again.

If he had not had the training of those two great and very different
masters, Sheikh Saadi and Fayum al-Burz, he would have been mad with
terror by now. Each time the door to the dungeon opened, the spear of
ice pierced him again. Would it be now that he would lose his manhood in
pain beyond imagining, pain so great that he would gladly die at once?

When no one was nearby, Erculio came close, cursed at him loudly,
punched him, and whispered, "He is gone much longer than he said he
would be. It is late afternoon. I told you he does not want to do this."

_But he will do it_, Daoud thought.

* * * * *

Sometime later--Daoud could not tell how long--the door swung open and
d'Ucello strode in. Daoud let the cold fear flood into him. He even let
himself whimper a bit. The tide of maddening terror reached its height
and then receded, and he was in command of himself again.

The two guards snapped to attention, and Erculio scurried over to him.
The podesta's face was set, and when he came close to Daoud, there was
pain in his eyes.

"Has he spoken?" he said to Erculio.

"Not a word, Signore, and I have made him suffer greatly."

_I shall be leaving this world just moments from now. I will fix my
thoughts on God._

"I gave you more time than I intended to," d'Ucello said to Daoud.
"There was a small battaglia at a bordello on the east side of town. A
place you are familiar with. The house run by that fat old whore, Tilia
Caballo. Where, according to her testimony, you were when the French
cavaliere was murdered outside Cardinal Ugolini's. Your putana friend
has been despoiled, I fear, and many of her menservants killed and her
women hurt."

_Rachel._

He desperately wanted to know whether Rachel had been hurt, and he dared
not speak of her to d'Ucello. Anguish for Rachel cracked his armor
against fear. He saw what was going to happen to him, felt the liquid
fire, saw his death. Cold sweat broke out on his body.

He tried to turn his mind back to Tilia's house.

_And Tilia, what of Tilia?_

It surprised him that his anxiety for Tilia was so strong. She had come
to be his friend without his ever realizing it.

He thought of Francesca, who had comforted him so during his first
months in Orvieto. Of the women who had helped him initiate Sordello.
All of them no doubt raped, and perhaps hurt in other ways besides.

_The savages! This would never have happened in El Kahira.