"How many men have the Sienese?" Daoud asked.
"According to reports I have from the peasants who live north of here,
they number over four thousand men. I am amazed that even so prosperous
a city as Siena could hire such a large army."
_You would be even more amazed to know where they got the money_,
thought Daoud.
D'Ucello went on. "So, we are hopelessly outnumbered. Of course, this
rock of Orvieto is the most defensible position in Italy. Even with only
our few hundred we could hold the Sienese off for some weeks, perhaps
even months. But not indefinitely. The Holy Father knew that, which is
why he left. The city will be taken and sacked. The people will suffer
greatly. If I am not killed in the fighting, I will surely be hanged.
And after I and all the defenders are dead, the contessa will consider
the honor of the city satisfied and will make peace with the Sienese."
"Well, you will have done what you thought right," said Daoud, after the
podesta had finished listing all these evil consequences. D'Ucello's
eyebrows twitched and his lips quirked, showing that he caught the
irony.
Daoud would enjoy this conversation more, he thought, if his feet did
not throb, if his legs did not ache, if his torn back did not burn as if
he were lying on hot coals, if his head were not swimming.
"I may hold this post at the contessa's pleasure, but she does not have
the right to tell me to die needlessly. And, as podesta, my first
concern is the welfare of Orvieto. If I can come to terms with the
Ghibellini, the city will be spared destruction."
Daoud held up a hand. The pain of the gesture was excruciating.
"Are you not a loyal Guelfo? Are you not faithful to the papal cause?
How can you speak of coming to terms with the Ghibellini?" What a
pleasure it was to goad d'Ucello.
The podesta squinted at Daoud, as if to see how serious his question
was.
"This is a Guelfo city, and normally I would take that side. But I have
no personal feelings one way or the other. What I do care about is the
responsibility I have accepted, of governing this city. I carry out that
responsibility best by preserving it from ruin."
_And at the same time saving your own life_, thought Daoud. _And biting
your thumb at the Contessa di Monaldeschi who has been treating you like
a servant. Oh, there are many reasons why you want to surrender to the
Sienese._
But Daoud was in terrible pain, and so tired that fatigue itself was now
as much a torment as anything he had suffered earlier. He longed to cut
this conversation short.
"What has all this to do with me?"
"To display my good faith to the Ghibellini, I have decided to free
you."
"Why should the Ghibellini care, one way or the other, what happens to
me?" said Daoud. Slowly he rolled over on his side, to make it easier to
look at d'Ucello. Pain flared in his arms and legs, in his back and
chest. His hands barely had the strength to pull the blue cloak with
him.
"You still deny that you are of that party?" d'Ucello asked.
"I am David of Trebizond."
D'Ucello rose to answer a knock at the door. Daoud lifted himself on one
elbow to see who it was. In the shadowed corridor a white-robed friar,
taller than d'Ucello, was peering in, trying to see Daoud.
"We are not quite ready for you, Fra Bernardino," said d'Ucello,
half-closing the door.
"Wait, Signore," the Dominican said, putting out a pale hand. "Cardinal
Ugolini has come here with men-at-arms and is demanding that you release
this man David to him at once."
Ugolini, here? Daoud felt a lightness in his heart. Freedom was that
much closer.
"Make sure the cardinal is comfortable and is offered refreshments, Fra
Bernardino," said d'Ucello, "and tell him he will not have to wait
long."
_Better and better._
When the door was shut, d'Ucello walked over to the bed and stared into
Daoud's eyes. "If I let you go, will you speak on my behalf to the
Ghibellini?"