The fighting seemed to be moving toward the doors, and the crowd flowed after it. Mass was forgotten as the congregation, cardinals and bishops included, rushed to see.
Ugolini hurried to Daoud and took his arm. The two of them were carried with the crowd toward the rear of the cathedral. Ugolini clutched at Daoud so tightly that his fingers hurt. The servants, Daoud noticed, managed to stay with them.
"Stay close to me," Ugolini said.
"You might be safer in the cathedral," said Daoud.
"Outside there is more room to run."
The short-legged Ugolini could not run very far, thought Daoud. He steeled himself. If they were attacked by a large number of enemies, they were dead men.
Daoud and Ugolini came through the main door of the cathedral together and stood on the crowded steps.
"I cannot see!" Ugolini cried. People on the steps below him were blocking his view.
Daoud was tall enough to see quite well. His heart, beating rapidly, seemed to be rising from his chest to his throat. Marco di Filippeschi, his long black hair flying as he jerked his body from side to side, was struggling with four men who held him, while a fifth wrapped a rope around his arms. Other men used pikes to push back the crowd, forming a ring of space around the young Filippeschi leader and his captors.
Marco is going to die, Daoud thought, feeling cold sweat all over his skin.