The Saracen: The Holy War

by Robert Shea

  XLV

  Daoud drifted in and out of consciousness for two days after the fightat the Monaldeschi palace. Sleeping was much better than being awake andremembering failure.

  In dreams he rode once again with his khushdashiya, his brotherMamelukes.

  A yellow silk banner rippled in the breeze before them, declaring, WAGEWAR UTTERLY ON THE IDOLATORS, AS THEY WAGE WAR UTTERLY ON YOU.

  Dust clouds swirled around them as they thundered down upon a row ofFrankish knights. From a distance Daoud sent bolt after bolt from hiscompound bow whistling into the dark line of mail-clad men. He saw menclutch at their throats and topple from the saddle.

  Screaming, he charged into the midst of the Franks, whirling his saifover his head, his lance in his left hand. A knight galloped into hispath, holding up a shield white as an eggshell, emblazoned with a redcross. Daoud brought the saif down, and the knight raised his shield tofend off the blow. That left the crusader momentarily blind, and Daoudthrust under the shield with his lance.

  The lance went in as if the knight wore no mail. As the Frank fellbackward from his horse, Daoud saw that it was Simon de Gobignon.

  Sophia's light touch on his shoulder woke Daoud. He was lying on hisstomach. He propped himself up on his elbows and saw the glowing,diamond-shaped windowpanes and the familiar white walls of his room onthe upper floor of Cardinal Ugolini's mansion. He turned his head tolook at Sophia. Her dark eyes comforted him.

  "Time for your poultice," she said.

  He tried to smile at her. "And something to drink. My mouth tastes dryand foul."

  "Wine?"

  "By the Archangel, no! The juice of oranges, and later kaviyeh."

  Sophia laughed. "Oranges? In April? You must be dreaming. Trees do notbear fruit all year round in this part of the world, David. Your bitterbeverage I can supply. But let me see to your wound first." She raisedthe blanket that covered his body. He felt his skin grow hot from scalpto toes. She was gazing upon his nude body. He was glad he was lying onhis stomach rather than on his back.

  Did his nakedness mean anything to her? Among Christians, he knew, menand women often saw each other naked. Not only did women go through thestreets with their faces uncovered, but in warm weather the common folk,men and women both, walked to the public baths with barely a bit ofcloth wrapped around their loins. And all Christians slept naked. WhenSophia saw his body like this, was it just another unclothed body, likethe many she had doubtless seen in her lifetime? Did she feel anyembarrassment? Or desire? As for himself, his sense of helplessness madehim feel only embarrassed, nothing more.

  He turned his head again to look at her. She was intent on administeringthe poultice, and that doubtless took her mind off his nakedness. Shehad lifted off the old cloth, stained an ugly yellow-brown, and droppedit to the floor. He got a glimpse of the wound, a red slit about half afinger's length with black knots of thread in it in the back of hisright leg, halfway between knee and buttock. Gently she patted andstroked on the wound a paste made of ground rose petals, lime water, andegg white, the Sufi remedy he had taught her to make.

  Lorenzo had used his knife to open the hole made by the arrow so that hewould not tear Daoud's flesh pulling the barbed head out. While Lorenzoworked over him, Daoud drew upon Saadi's final teaching to him to defendhimself against the pain. In his mind he began to create the drug calledSoma. He envisioned it as a bowl of glowing, silver-colored liquid, andhe believed it could form a capsule around any part of his body wherethere was pain and wall it off from the rest of himself, at the sametime filling him with a feeling of well being.

  _Once you have experienced the effects of material drugs on your bodyand learned to master them_, Saadi said to him, _you have the knowledgeyou need to create a drug of the mind, Soma. This is more powerful andmore reliable, and it will not harm your body in any way. Indeed, Somawill make your body stronger. It will calm your mind, fill you withpeace, sometimes give you visions. But if you should suddenly need allyour faculties, they are yours at once. The drug is gone in an instant._

  It was Saadi's teaching that whatever a man could accomplish withdrugs, he could accomplish more effectively and reliably with his mindalone. A trained man could envision a drug that would serve any desiredpurpose. And thus a man could transcend the Hashishiyya reliance onadministered drugs.

  While he had drunk from the bowl of Soma and it had flooded through hisbody, Daoud's fingers had gripped the little leather case hung aroundhis neck that contained the Sufi tawidh, the numerological invocationthat he believed would speed his healing. A river of blood had pouredout of his leg when Lorenzo drew out the arrow, and he had fainted.Sophia had stitched the wound with cotton thread that was now black withcongealed blood.

  Now Sophia laid a clean, folded linen cloth over the wound, used anotherstrip of linen to tie the poultice to his leg, and then pulled theblanket up over him. Their eyes had not met once during the time she wascaring for him. He found to his surprise that he had to know what shewas thinking and feeling.

  As if sensing his need, she spoke. "I have wanted to tell you, but youwere too sick to understand me. D'Ucello, the podesta, came here thenight of the uprising, looking for you and Lorenzo. As we planned, Itold him you had both gone to Perugia."

  Daoud's body went cold. He felt as if he were being stalked, and thehunter was closing in.

  "Did he believe you?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "He blustered some, but the cardinal ordered him off inthe end. I think he must have hoped to find you among the dead orwounded at the Monaldeschi palace."

  Daoud rolled over in bed, the wooden frame creaking, and the pain torethrough his leg like the slash of a scimitar. He groaned throughclenched teeth. Despite his ability to shield his mind from pain when ittook him unexpectedly like this, it could hurt like the torments of thedamned.

  "What are you doing?"

  He gasped. "Trying to get up. D'Ucello will be back, and he must not seeme wounded." He tried to sit up, and she laid her hand, firm and cool,on his forehead and pushed him back against the pillows.

  "You are in more danger from fever than you are from d'Ucello," shesaid, letting her hand rest on his forehead.

  "You will be surprised at how quickly the wound heals," he said,touching the tawidh at his neck. "As for fever, it is healthy. It burnsout impurities." He laughed bitterly. "I hope it is burning thestupidity out of me."

  "You--stupid?" She laughed.

  He did not join her. It pleased him a little, in the midst of hisanguish and self-disgust, to see that she thought well of him. But shewas wrong about him--and her life depended on him, and that thought madehim feel worse.

  "De Gobignon was waiting for me. He knew I was coming for the Tartars.He _knew_."

  "How much could he have known?" she asked. "No one knew what your planswere."

  "Sophia, if de Gobignon had not been there, I would have been able tokill those two barbarian pigs easily. I did my best, with all my skill,all my training, all my experience, and it went for nothing."

  That was a pain Soma would not shield him from, the pain of failure. Itfelt like a mace blow to his chest every time he remembered the fight inthe blackness of the spice pantry.

  To drive away the damnable memory of being routed by the Christians, hehad to concentrate on the present and the future.

  "Send someone to fetch Sordello to me."

  "You should be resting."

  He laughed and touched her hand lightly. "Resting! Our enemies are notresting." She sighed, but went.

  When Sordello entered Daoud's room, Lorenzo followed him closely, eyesboring into the back of the mercenary's skull. Sophia entered behindLorenzo.

  Trembling, Sordello knelt by Daoud's bed. "I feared for you, MesserDavid. I am happy to see you looking so well."

  Would Sordello give up the pleasures of hashish and the promise of aparadise with beautiful women? What reward could Simon de Gobignon offerhim that could be more enticing?

  _Yet, I have always known that this m
an was a two-edged sword that couldturn in my hand._

  "The Monaldeschi were prepared for us," said Daoud. "They were armed andon their battlements when we came. Someone warned them."

  "You do not suspect me, Messer David?" Sordello, crouched on the floorby Daoud's bed, looked up slyly sideways at him. "I would be a fool toinjure one who has been so great a benefactor to me."

  Daoud felt rage boil up inside him at Sordello's false abjectness. Heglared at the old bravo and saw a faint tremor in his jaw.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned toward Sordello. "Yourfawning insults me. I think you lie."

  Hatred briefly twisted Sordello's face. Then a knowing smile made iteven uglier.

  "Messer David, if I had told the Count de Gobignon what I know aboutyou, you would surely be dead by now."

  Daoud forced himself to his feet. The pain shot through him like alightning bolt, but in his fury he ignored it. He bent down and seizedSordello's throat with his right hand. He fell back sitting on the bed,pulling the popeyed bravo toward him so that his good knee pressed intothe Sordello's chest.

  Somewhere, nearby, he heard Sophia cry out in protest, but he paid noattention.

  "Confess that it was you, and I will kill you quickly," Daoud whispered."I have shown you paradise, and I can show you hell. If you do not giveyourself up now, and I find out later that it was you, I will inflicttorments of mind and body on you beyond your imagining."

  "David, stop, you will kill him!" Sophia screamed. She gripped Daoud'sarm, digging her nails into his muscle.

  Gradually Daoud released his hold on the corded throat. With his eyesalone, employing the Hashishiyya "look that imprisons," he held Sordellofast. The bravo's eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.

  He was glad Sophia had stopped him. She must have realized that he wouldregret it if he killed Sordello in a fit of rage. If Sordello had notbetrayed them, his false reports to Simon de Gobignon would still beuseful. And in any case his sudden disappearance immediately after theattack on the Monaldeschi palace would draw de Gobignon's attention.

  "If it is not you, then there is another among us who told Simon deGobignon about my plans. If you want to save your life, you will findout who it is."

  "I promise you, Messere." Sordello's voice was a hoarse croak. "Whoeverthe escremento is, I will deliver his life into your hands."

  Sordello stood up, then turned to Sophia and bowed.

  "Madonna," Sordello gasped. "My eternal gratitude--"

  "Just get out," Sophia snapped.

  Was there a suggestion of a leer in Sordello's lumpy face as he staredat Sophia? But pain spread from the wound in Daoud's leg in greatripples through him, and he lay back and concentrated on the Sufiexercise that detached him from his body.

  The heavy oak door closed behind Sordello. They were all three silentfor a moment. Then Lorenzo jerked the door open and looked out into thecorridor. He nodded, indicating Sordello had truly gone.

  "It might have been wiser to strangle him," said Lorenzo. "He has allour lives in his hands."

  Daoud held up his hand. "What he said was true. He could have deliveredus to our enemies before the attack. I believe he is still in my power."

  * * * * *

  When alone with Sophia, Daoud lay back on his cushions. She stoodlooking down at him, and he wondered if that was pity he saw in herface.

  "You are in such pain," she said.

  He shook his head. "It is nothing."

  "I do not mean the pain of the body."

  She understood, then, what he was feeling. He smiled at her and shut hiseyes.

  She sat in silence on the edge of the bed while he lay there, brooding.Again he escaped into drowsiness. His mind drifted back to the sands ofEgypt. He dreamed again of riding as a Mameluke.

  When he woke, a short time had passed, and Sophia was still sittingthere, gazing down at him.

  Hints of a new plan began to come together in his mind. As fever purgedhim of poison, it had brought him dreams of battle. Not of intrigueswith the priests and bishops around the pope. Not of ambushes in narrowstreets. Rather, open war.

  That was the meaning of those dreams. Perhaps God Himself had sent them.He was called upon to wage jihad against the enemies of Islam as aMameluke, on horseback, at the head of an army.

  He held out his arm to Sophia. "Help me up. You and Lorenzo and I mustmeet with Ugolini."

  * * * * *

  Later that morning, a heavy spring rain hammered on the windows ofUgolini's cabinet. The storm had so darkened the room that thecardinal's servants had lit extra candles. Daoud, Lorenzo, and Sophiasat in a semicircle across from Ugolini's worktable.

  The painted glass eyes of Ugolini's stuffed owl glared disapprovinglydown from the bookshelves at Daoud, who had a sense that the cardinalfelt as the owl looked. The skull on the table seemed to be laughing athim.

  He understood now what he had to do, but would the others, especiallyUgolini, go along with it? Over Ugolini's frantic protests he hadinsisted on inciting the Filippeschi to attack the Palazzo Monaldeschi.That attack having failed of its purpose, would the three of them stillaccept Daoud's authority? Ugolini, surely, would think that events hadproved him right about the futility of the attack on the Monaldeschi.How could he be won over to the idea of a wider war? _Make war utterlyon the idolaters_--that, he had decided, was the meaning of his dream.

  "Manfred's supporters, the Ghibellini, must take the pope captive," hesaid. "I know that you would prefer peace to war, but now that I havetried to kill the Tartars and failed, we do not have that choice." Itwas best, he thought, to admit his failure openly before Ugolini threwit in his face.

  The cardinal's eyes were almost as wide and as stark as the owl's. "Youwould plunge the whole of Italy into war?"

  "No," said Daoud, "but that is what is going to happen. The one thingthat has kept the French out of Italy is the pope's refusal to give theChristian kings, especially the king of France, permission to allythemselves with the Tartars. But now that Urban is ill, he may give KingLouis what he wants. When the pope allows the alliance, Louis will givehis brother Charles permission to attack Manfred. It is not I who willplunge Italy into war. I am proposing only that we act before the Frenchdo."

  Ugolini shook his head. "What do you mean, take the pope captive?"

  "The Papal States are surrounded by cities ruled by Manfred's Ghibellinosupporters. The nearest is Siena. With gold and with timely warningsabout the danger from the French, we can persuade Siena to move againstthe pope." He held up his fist. "And then we can make sure that the nextpope elected is favorable to Manfred. And through him, well disposedtoward peace with Islam."

  It was the same sort of plan, Daoud thought, as inciting the Filippeschiagainst the Monaldeschi. But Lorenzo had already visited Siena and madesure that the Ghibellini of Siena, with Daoud's help, could raise a fargreater army than the pope could muster in Orvieto. This time he wouldsucceed.

  "Impossible!" Ugolini cried. "No king can control the Papacy. TheHohenstaufen have been trying to rule over the popes for centuries, andfor centuries they have failed."

  "Perhaps it takes a stranger to see that where the Hohenstaufen failed,the French are about to succeed," said Daoud. "France is now thestrongest kingdom in Europe. If Manfred does not get control of the popeand the cardinals, the next pope will be under the protection of theFrench, and will have to do whatever they want."

  "Urban is a sick man," said Ugolini. "There is not a cardinal who wouldrisk a wager that he will live to see the year 1265. He will not callfor the French to save him when he knows the angels are coming to gethim."

  "No, there I must disagree with Your Eminence," said Lorenzo, loungingin a large chair facing Ugolini's table. "Urban is a Frenchman, and hewill work to bring the French into Italy until the moment the angelsknock at his door."

  Sophia, who had been sitting quietly in an armless straight-back chairwith her hands folded in her lap, said,
"The pope will blame theGhibellini for the attack on the Monaldeschi. He will want help, and hewill ask it from the French even if it means Christians joining theTartars in a crusade the pope does not really want."

  "Very shrewd," said Daoud with a smile in her direction. "Except thatthe pope had decided before the attack on the Monaldeschi to approve thealliance with the Tartars. As we know from his persuading Fra Tomasso toswitch sides. It was because the pope had clearly turned against us thatI planned to kill the Tartars."

  Daoud was tired of sitting. Despite the pain in his leg, he used hisstick to push himself to his feet and stepped out of the window recess.He limped over to Ugolini's table.

  "We must send Lorenzo to Siena with enough of our precious stones toraise an army big enough to overwhelm the papal soldiery and the Orvietomilitia. It may take time to persuade the Sienese to act. It will takemore time to muster an army and march on Orvieto. We must begin asquickly as we can. With the pope in Ghibellino hands, with theGhibellini in a position to sway the outcome of the next papal election,we may yet keep the French out of Italy."

  And that, he thought, would keep crusaders and Tartars out of the Daral-Islam.

  Ugolini's shrug spoke more of despair than of acquiescence. "Certainlythe French will come if we do nothing. You are right about that. Do asyou will. It is a miracle we have survived this long."

  Strange, Daoud thought. Ugolini saw their mere survival as miraculous.To Daoud, failure so far to put a final stop to the alliance ofChristians and Tartars made him wonder whether God disapproved of him.

  * * * * *

  Once he accepted the fact that he had to go, Lorenzo had hoped the rainwould continue. Under its cover his leaving the city was less likely tobe noticed or impeded. But by mid-afternoon, the hour of None, when hewas packed and mounted, a spare horse trotting behind him, a bright,hot sun had come out, and the puddles in the narrow streets were turningto steam.

  At the Porta Maggiore he stopped when he saw two clerks seated at tableson either side of the gateway, one questioning each person entering thetown, the other examining those leaving. A dozen of the podesta's men inyellow and blue stood by to keep people in line. Each clerk consultedwhat appeared to be a list on a scroll and on another scroll wrote downthe names of those he questioned.

  Only two days ago Sophia had told d'Ucello that David of Trebizond andhis man Giancarlo were in Perugia. Now, Lorenzo thought, those damnedclerks were probably watching for their return. They could have been setat the gate the morning after the attack on the Monaldeschi palace.

  He smiled ironically as he remembered how, last summer, he had sat asthese clerks did now, at the gateway to Lucera waiting to catch acertain Saracen newly arrived from Egypt.

  Now, thought Lorenzo, if he tried to leave Orvieto he would not only bestopped and possibly arrested, he would be as good as telling thepodesta that he and David had never been out of the town at all.

  Lorenzo clenched his fists. He felt like a tuna caught in a net.

  _And if I stand here much longer staring they'll notice me and haul mein._

  He quickly turned his horses away from the gate and headed back toUgolini's mansion.

  * * * * *

  At the beginning of the third Nocturn, Lorenzo, David, and a servant ofUgolini's named Riccardo, whom they had chosen for his size andstrength, emerged from an alley near the north side of the city wall.

  David wore a hood pulled low over his face. He limped and walked with astick. Lorenzo had advised against his being out in the street at all,but David had answered that the watch did not know he was in Orvieto andwould not be looking for him.

  Lorenzo was amazed at how rapidly David had gotten better. He had neverseen a man walking only two days after taking a bad arrow wound in theleg. The Muslims who taught David the art of healing must be even betterthan Jewish physicians.

  As they walked, Lorenzo made David recite the names of half a dozenprominent Perugian merchants who were supporters of King Manfred. If thepodesta were to question David about his whereabouts the night of theFilippeschi uprising, these men would bear witness that David andLorenzo had been in Perugia.

  "If d'Ucello does question you, how will you explain that you are backin Orvieto without having been seen entering through the gate?" Lorenzoasked him.

  "I will tell him--with the greatest reluctance--that the line was verylong when I arrived and that I was in haste to enter, so I bribed themen on duty to let me by. The more time passes before he discovers mypresence in Orvieto, the more believable that will be."

  "If he suspects you of anything, he will arrest you no matter how good astory you tell him," Lorenzo said.

  David stopped walking and rested his hand on Lorenzo's shoulder. "Thatis why you must go tonight, my friend. And come back quickly with anarmy from Siena."

  * * * * *

  Lorenzo had a pack over his shoulder and wore a long traveling cloak.Riccardo carried a coil of rope. Ahead of them was a small stone shedbuilt against the wall, beside one of the round guard towers.

  Lorenzo was not particularly frightened by the ordeal ahead. He had doneenough climbing in his younger days. But he was repelled by the thoughtthat through the large opening in the floor of the little house thepeople of this quarter dumped, not only their garbage, but also thecontents of their chamber pots.

  They went quietly to the door of the shed. There was a guard in thetower above them, though he would have no reason to watch the garbagechute.

  Riccardo put a meaty hand on the rough-hewn door. It gave without astruggle. Not even locked, thought Lorenzo. He supposed the podesta, mayhis ballocks wrinkle up like prunes, had not thought that anyone wouldchoose this ignominious way to escape from the city.

  "Sophia told me to tell you she would miss you," David said.

  "Kiss her for me," said Lorenzo.

  _Wonder if David has bedded Sophia yet._

  Riccardo filled the little room so that Lorenzo felt himself beingcrowded to the edge of the chute.

  "Hey! Riccardo! Push me down _after_ you have the rope around me."

  "Sorry, Messere." The burly man tied the rope tightly around Lorenzo'swaist, just above the belt that held the jewels, and they both pulledhard on the knot to test it. Tying the knots in the dark, they had to bedoubly careful. Then Riccardo tied the other end of the rope around hisown waist and donned heavy oxhide gloves.

  It was a warm April night, and Lorenzo smelled a horrid odor of garbageand excrement coming up from the pit. It was not actually a pit, but acrevice in the face of the cliff on which Orvieto was built. Lorenzo hadhoped the day's heavy rain would have washed the cliffside clean. Butthe people of Orvieto had been dumping offal here for centuries.

  "Your final instructions?" he said to David.

  "Ugolini's servant Guglielmo seems to have gotten safely out of the citywith your horses and baggage," said David. "He must not have been on anylist. He will meet you at the shrine of Saint Sebastian on the road toSiena. From there you know what you have to do."

  David grasped him by the shoulders and then patted his back. They hadbecome good friends, Lorenzo realized. Look how David was trusting himto ride with a fortune in gems to Siena, meet the right parties, bargainwith them, deliver the gems to them and come back to Orvieto with aGhibellino army. That was much to expect of a man. Yet David seemed notto doubt that Lorenzo would do it.

  Lorenzo felt warm when he thought how much David meant to him. He hadcome on this mission as King Manfred's man, but he was going to Sienajust as much for David as for Manfred. Bringing the Sienese into thestruggle might keep the French away, though, and that would help Manfredas much as it would the Muslims.

  "Lower away, then," Lorenzo said to Riccardo.

  David stepped back. Riccardo and Lorenzo both took hold of the rope.Lorenzo stepped over the edge of the chute. His legs dangled, and hetried not to think about how much empty space was between him and therocks
at the base of Orvieto's mountain. The rope cut painfully into hiswaist and back. He gripped it tightly with his gloved hands and wrappedhis legs around it to take some of the strain off the loop around hiswaist.

  Grunting, Riccardo slowly lowered Lorenzo through the chute. David wasstanding beside Ugolini's man and had laid a protective hand on therope. The hole in the floor was just wide enough for Lorenzo's shouldersto pass through. Then he was hanging free below the city wall, his backto the cliff, staring out at a starry black sky and the silhouettes ofdistant hillsides. He felt dizzy and shut his eyes.

  "Turn me," he whispered hoarsely up at the opening above him.

  After a moment he felt his body rotating, and again he had to fightdizziness. He was facing in toward the smelly crevice, and he drew uphis legs and planted his feet firmly on its walls. With the help of therope he could walk down the cliffside. Riccardo let out the rope alittle more, and Lorenzo's boot sole scraped loudly against thecrumbling tufa surface, releasing a shower of pebbles.

  "Who's down there?" a distant voice shouted, and Lorenzo felt as ifsomeone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. That was the guardin the tower high above. He wondered if the guard could see him downhere. He tried to grip the sides of the crevice with his feet and pullhimself closer to the cliff face.

  "I am taking a piss, buon'amico!" Riccardo called up to the guard. "Doyou mind?"

  "That place is not for pissing," the guard called back.

  "Would you rather I sprinkled your tower?"

  There was no answer this time, and Riccardo began whistling loudly tocover any further noises Lorenzo might make. Lorenzo hoped the guardwould not come down to investigate. What if he did, and Riccardo felt hemust let go of the rope?

  Riccardo must have had the same thought, because he began paying out therope more rapidly, and Lorenzo's feet flew over the crackling rock. Hewas like a man running furiously backward. It would be comical, hethought, were he not in danger of breaking his neck.

  This was a time when he wished he had clung to a religion of some sortrather than abandoning the faith of his fathers and replacing it withnothing. It would be so comforting to pray to an all-powerful being whomight be kind enough to protect him. Just _hoping_ not to get hurtseemed stupid and futile.

  He felt the cliff wall beginning to slant outward a bit under his feet.The whistling from the shed had stopped. He looked up and saw that hewas halfway down the side of the cliff. The backs of his legs ached fromthe strain of supporting his weight, and his shoulders and arms hurttoo. He began to worry, not so much about whether he would fall as whathe might land in when he reached the bottom.

  And the smell of rot and filth all around him might choke him before heever got down. He saw directly below him a pit of blackness surroundedby trees that were only a little less dark. The muck might be over hishead; he might just sink into it.

  As he reached the level of the trees he drew his knees up and thenstraightened them hard, giving himself a push away from the cliff. Hewas still being lowered, so that when he swung back to the cliff he wasmuch farther down. This time his boots hit a coating of soft stuff onthe rock, and the smell was unbearable.

  _I'd rather break my neck than smother in shit._

  He kicked again with his legs, and when he hit the end of the outwardswing, the rope feeling as if it would cut him in two, he grabbed for atree branch, barely visible in the darkness. It hit him in the stomachand knocked all the wind out of him, but he clung to it desperately.

  Bent double over the tree limb, he looked down and saw shadows thatmight be forest floor as far below him as his own height. Then again, hemight be seeing the tops of other trees. He drew his dagger and cut therope around his middle but held it with one hand. He took deep, relievedbreaths when the constraint was gone. He gave three sharp jerks on therope, the signal that he was down. After a moment all tension left therope, and he felt it falling in the darkness. Another moment and heheard rustlings, thumps, and splashes as the rope landed at the bottomof the crevice. Tomorrow's dumping, he thought, would quite conceal it.

  He wondered briefly if David and Riccardo had safely left the dumpingshed and were on their way back to Ugolini's. He looked down again intothe darkness, realizing that if he jumped from here he might fall farenough to kill himself. Having swung away from the pile of offal, he wasnow more worried about breaking his neck. He pulled himself up,straddling the tree and facing in toward the trunk. He slid down to thetrunk, then tried to feel about with his foot for another branch.

  His feet met nothing. He swung over the side of the branch, feeling thetrunk with one hand and the space below him with his feet. Stillnothing. Now he was dangling from the limb, holding on with two achinghands. If he had not worn gloves, he would have no skin left on hispalms.

  _Well, here goes one hopeful atheist._ He let go.

  He fell a short distance, feetfirst, into a pool of water. It came upover his low boots, soaking his hose. There was no smell; apparently itwas a pure forest pool, probably a puddle enlarged by the recent rain.Sighing, he sloshed out of it. Small creatures hopped and scurried awayfrom him.

  _It could have been much, much worse._

  Glad to feel his feet on the ground, he hoped the rest of his journey toSiena would be less exciting than the beginning.