ou _will_ sing at the cardinal's table. Your suggestion is a good
one. I will also arrange for you to be with Madonna Sophia at other
times as well, so that you can honestly claim to know something about
her."

"Very good, Messer David." Sordello turned to go, then turned back
again. "Messere?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you might send me on another trip to paradise sometime
soon?" The eager light in his eyes sickened Daoud.

"Do your work well, and I will see that you are properly rewarded."

Sordello left, and Daoud brooded over his shame at what he had done to
the man--turned him into something less than human, less than animal, a
kind of demon with a single appetite.

After a moment he forced himself to put that out of his mind. A fighter
in jihad, holy war, must do many an ugly thing, but all was for the
greater glory of God.

XXXIX

The hymn "O Salutaris Hostia," sung by over a thousand strong voices
abetted by several thousand more uncertain ones, echoed from the
hillsides. The entire clergy of Orvieto, from the pope down to the
lowliest subdeacon, had come out of the city, and so had most of the lay
population. But Daoud's attention was drawn, not by the great procession
coming down the cliffside road, or by the crowd in the meadow around
him, but by the astonishing change that had come over the landscape.

It was as if some devastating disease had struck all the growing things
of the region, from the tallest trees to the very blades of grass. The
leafless groves raised black, skeletal arms up to the bright blue sky,
like men praying. The vineyards on the slopes were gray clumps of
shrubbery. The meadow grass on which he stood was yellow and brittle; it
broke to bits underfoot.

He had known, of course, that such changes came over the European
landscape each winter. But to see such desolation with his own eyes was
more amazing, even frightening, than he realized it would be. Soon the
Christians would be celebrating the birth of Jesus the Messiah, whom
they believed was God. Seeing death in the landscape all around him,
Daoud found it easier to understand why these idolators might feel
driven to worship a God who rose from the dead.

He hoped it would help his mission that the wave of enthusiasm for the
miracle at Bolsena had swept everyone in Orvieto from the pope on down.
He hoped they would have neither time to think about the Tartars nor
interest in dealing with them.

But this miracle and