ser David."

Angered by the feeling of confinement, Daoud thought about throwing the
guard, disarming him, and walking through the gate just to teach him a
lesson. But that was hardly what a trader would do. That would only
bring more suspicion down on him. He nodded curtly and walked away.

* * * * *

The following Sunday, Daoud stood at the front of the cathedral,
reluctantly hearing Mass, bodies pressing him from all sides. Four of
Ugolini's men-at-arms, including the massive Riccardo, stood with Daoud.
The little cardinal, required by the etiquette of the Sacred College to
attend but made fearful by the rumors of fighting and killing to come,
had begged Daoud to come with him and stay near him. The noonday heat
together with the heat of packed human flesh turned the interior of the
cathedral into an oven. The reek of sweat mixed with the heavy smell of
incense rendered the air almost unbreathable.

A gilded screen standing on the altar displayed the miraculous linen
cloth of Bolsena, lighted candles massed around it. The pope, at least,
had left that to Orvieto. Ugolini was one of six red-robed cardinals,
half hidden under their huge, circular red hats, who sat in chairs in a
row before the altar. Each one had a cluster of assistants and guards
behind him. Cardinal de Verceuil was among them. Daoud recognized him
from the rear because he was the tallest of the six.

That meant the Tartars were still in Orvieto. If Lorenzo and the
Ghibellino army from Siena arrived in time, there would be a chance to
kill the Tartars before they rejoined the pope in Perugia. It was
maddening, not knowing what Lorenzo had accomplished or where he was.
This was one time he wished Christian armies could move with the speed
and decisiveness of Muslims. Or Tartars.

The elderly Cardinal Piacenza, his arms supported by priest-assistants,
held up the gold cup of wine which Christians believed, in a sense that
Daoud had never been able to understand, to be the blood of Jesus the
Messiah. The cathedral was filled with a reverent quiet.

A burst of angry men's voices from the rear of the cathedral broke the
silence. Shouts echoed against the heavy stone walls. Daoud heard thuds,
scuffling, the clash of steel. A jolt of alarm went through him, and his
hand went to his sword.

Everyone, including Piacenza, turned to stare. The last time there had
been a clash of arms in the cathedral it had been the Count d