ets gleaming dully under the overcast sky.

Finally, as the people threw themselves to their knees, some crying out
and stretching their arms wide, Urban himself, on a litter carried by
eight men-at-arms, with a column of priests on either side, came through
the open gate of the palace. He wore white gloves on the trembling hands
that he raised to bless the people. He was bundled up in a white wool
cloak, and his head was covered by a hood of fur so white that it made
his own hair and his beard look yellowish.

Reluctantly, but knowing it would be dangerous not to do so, Daoud
dropped to his knees as Urban passed him.

"Do not leave us, Holy Father!" a man next to him cried out.

Daoud thought of the whispers he had been hearing in his wanderings
through the streets and marketplaces. People were frightened. Some said
that terrible things would happen after Urban left. There would be new
bloodshed between the Monaldeschi and the Filippeschi. The Sienese would
besiege Orvieto and massacre its people.

Daoud himself believed d'Ucello, the podesta, would use the pope's
departure to try to increase his own power over the city.

_And that bodes ill for me._

The podesta was a clever man. Daoud felt certain d'Ucello suspected him
of the killing of the French knight and of involvement in the
Filippeschi uprising.

Daoud followed the procession along the curving street to the Porta
Maggiore, intending to watch it follow the road to the north, wishing
the Sienese army might appear suddenly in the distance and intercept it.
But at the gate a sergente in yellow and blue stepped into his path.

"I am not leaving," Daoud said, staring at the man. "I want to stand
just outside the gate."

The sergente shrugged. He was a broad-shouldered man with a square brown
face and a mustache cut straight across. As they stood talking, he
darted little glances at Daoud's hands and feet, half smiling. Daoud
sensed that he was ready for a fight, perhaps even wanted one. The
sergente thought, of course, that he was dealing with a merchant, who
would not be as skilled in combat as a professional soldier.

Daoud felt a chill along his spine. D'Ucello was still determined to
keep him prisoner in Orvieto. That confirmed Daoud's suspicions that the
podesta might soon move against him.

"You can watch the procession from the top of the wall," the podesta's
man said. "The view is better from up there anyway. You may not go
beyond the gate, Mes