_Now, at last, this is the end_, thought Daoud as the door of the
chamber of torment rasped open. He had been preparing himself for death,
praying, commending himself to God. Now he hoped that without much more
pain, God would take him.
Erculio, who had been sitting with his back to the wall, pushed himself
to his feet and scuttled forward.
D'Ucello entered, followed by two guards in yellow and blue.
"Welcome back, Signore," Erculio cried. "Shall we now roast this
stubborn fellow's ballocks?"
Erculio, Daoud sensed, enjoyed feigning the gleeful torturer precisely
because it was a way of tormenting d'Ucello himself.
D'Ucello walked over to where Daoud lay naked on the rack and glowered
silently down at him, his lips pressed together under his thin mustache.
The podesta glanced at the silver flask on the table, but made no move
to pick it up. He seemed to be studying Daoud, searching for something
as he looked into his eyes.