lt she was somehow pleasing Angelo, who
had taught her to read Hebrew.

She was reading about Egypt when the second storm of the morning struck
Orvieto and the window no longer admitted enough light to read by. A few
water droplets blew in through the open window to fall on the open
pages. She carefully blotted them up with the hem of her satin robe, but
she was afraid more rain would damage the vellum pages. So she shut the
book, and watched the lightning flash and listened to the thunder.

Tilia's house was built halfway down an incline, so Sophia could see
water foaming in the ditch that ran through the center of the street. So
heavy was the rain that waves were flowing down the cobblestones. Where
a raindrop struck the water, the splash was like a little crown.

A dark shadow appeared at the high end of the street, a hooded figure.
Another followed, and another. They rose higher and higher, until she
could see that they were riding horses. What were men doing out in a
storm like this? Were they coming here?

They were. The first men reined up their horses outside Tilia's front
door, dismounted, and moved to the shelter of the overhanging houses
across the street. More men on horses, some on mules, and many more on
foot, gathered outside the house. All wore hoods or broad-brimmed hats
to keep the rain from their heads. Rachel's heart began to thud in her
chest when she saw there were too many for her to count. She saw the
gleam of helmets under some of the hoods, the wet glitter of mail when
an arm or leg emerged from a cloak. A train of mules carrying heavy
packs came down the street and stopped.

Rachel began to tremble. These men had not come for pleasure. There were
too many of them, and their dress and manner was full of menace. She was
glad that the heavy rain forced them to keep their heads down;
otherwise, one of them might have looked up here and seen her. She drew
back a little from the window.

A line of covered carts drawn by pairs of mules pulled up behind the
crowd of armed men. The cart in the lead was bright yellow and red, and
its paint glistened wetly.

Did anyone else in the house know this crowd was out there? Perhaps no
one else was looking out a window. She ran to the door of her room, just
as she heard a pounding from below.

Then there were shouts, bangs, and crashes, the shrill shattering of
glass and porcelain, the heavy thumps of bodies falling. Rachel opened
her door. Other doors