re time passes before he discovers my
presence in Orvieto, the more believable that will be."

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

David stopped walking and rested his hand on Lorenzo's shoulder. "That
is why you must go tonight, my friend. And come back quickly with an
army 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 shed
built against the wall, beside one of the round guard towers.

Lorenzo was not particularly frightened by the ordeal ahead. He had done
enough climbing in his younger days. But he was repelled by the thought
that through the large opening in the floor of the little house the
people of this quarter dumped, not only their garbage, but also the
contents of their chamber pots.

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

Riccardo put a meaty hand on the rough-hewn door. It gave without a
struggle. Not even locked, thought Lorenzo. He supposed the podesta, may
his ballocks wrinkle up like prunes, had not thought that anyone would
choose 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 being
crowded 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's
waist, just above the belt that held the jewels, and they both pulled
hard on the knot to test it. Tying the knots in the dark, they had to be
doubly careful. Then Riccardo tied the other end of the rope around his
own waist and donned heavy oxhide gloves.

It was a warm April night, and Lorenzo smelled a horrid odor of garbage
and excrement coming up from the pit. It was not actually a pit, but a
crevice in the face of the cliff on which Orvieto was built. Lorenzo had
hoped the day's heavy rain would have washed the cliffside clean. But
the 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 city
w