of men behind each mantlet.

Fire arrows from mantlets and tortoises hissed overhead and fell,
trailing sparks, into the atrium of the palace. Simon heard splashes as
servants threw water on the trees.

"Put more of your men on the sides," he said to Teodoro, who hurried
down the stairs inside the tower.

The moon was now a red oval low in the eastern sky. The light would help
the Filippeschi target the defenders on the rooftop, but it would not
expose them in the streets.

A loud crash startled Simon, and he felt the tower floor shake. Another
crash and another. Stone casters. The stones were coming from all
directions, and Simon could hear screams.

He turned to de Puys. "Fire our stone casters."

With de Puys gone, only Simon and the cardinal were left in the tower.
They had nothing to say to each other. The cardinal had donned his
miter-shaped helmet at the first sign of the Filippeschi, and Simon
could not see his face. Simon longed for Teodoro to come back.

It was Simon's equerry, Thierry, who pushed open the trapdoor. "Capitano
Teodoro is hit."

"Blood of God!" Simon pushed past de Puys to hurry down the tower's
inner staircase.

Teodoro lay near the entrance to the tower, surrounded by a crowd of
men-at-arms. His breathing came in hoarse gasps, alternating with grunts
of pain. It was too dark for Simon to see him well. He knelt beside
Teodoro, and a vile smell of excrement choked him. Someone beside Simon
was sobbing. Teodoro had been much liked among the Venetians.

Carefully Simon felt down the capitano's body. The hard leather cuirass
he wore was cracked down the center. Just below his chest Simon's hand
met the huge rock. It was wet, probably with Teodoro's blood.

"It caught him right in the middle," said an archer standing over Simon.
"Broke him in two. Crushed his belly and his spine. Only the part of him
above the stone is alive."

A gurgling sound rose in Teodoro's throat. He was vomiting, and warm
liquid gushed over Simon's hand. His own stomach writhed, and bile
burned his throat. He stood up suddenly, and instantly regretted it,
because he had wanted to comfort Teodoro in his dying. But the gasping
had stopped.

Teodoro had probably never known he was there.

Simon's hands and knees were trembling.

_So this is what it is like to be killed in battle._

He wiped his hand on his surcoat. Careful to make his voice firm, he
ordered the archers back to their positions. The weight of h