this be a test, he thought, fearful that he knew not of such a saint? “With Cristo no cause is lost.” It was all he could think to say.

“Ah,” said the older and friendlier-looking of the pair of Guardia Nobile di Meducci who had stayed their magnificent horses before Davido’s donkey-drawn wagon. “The priest is young, but wise.”

Davido gave a slight bow of the head. “But I am not a priest.”

“No?” said the older guard. “Well, what are you, then?”

“A novice monk, a friar of Il Ordo Fratrum Minorum,” answered Davido in proper Latin, just as Nonno would have.

“Oh,” said the older guard, genuinely pleased. “A Franciscan.”

Davido nodded.

“Long ago, in Assisi,” said the older guard, “I took a wound, and were it not for the Order of the Little Brothers, dare I say, I would not be here today.”

Good God, thought Davido with a jolt of fear, he’ll know more about the monks than I do.

“And what of him?” said the gruffer, younger-looking of the pair, who had yet to speak. He pointed to Davido’s uncle, Culone, who was passed out asleep in the wagon-bed. He too was dressed as a monk.

Davido smiled. “The brother does like his wine.”

“Ah,” said the younger guard with a tart chortle, “a little brother of the drunken order.”

The older guard ignored his partner’s comment. “Well, your kin did aid me once, perhaps you can again? God knows we could use a blessing for this fool’s errand.”

Even through his panic, Davido could hear Nonno’s voice inside his head. Keep your mouth shut. Nod. Play the part. The less you talk, the wiser you’ll seem.

The older guard leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Will you swear to secrecy, young monk?”

“I swear only to God,” said Davido, trying his best to be monk-like. “But if something troubles you, speak your piece. It shall not leave my lips.”

“Well,” said the older guard, seemingly impressed with the young monk’s manner, “monks are not known to be big talkers, are they?”

“Only big drinkers,” said the younger guard caustically.

The older guard nodded at Davido apologetically for his partner. “The Duke of Tuscany has disappeared from his country villa. Not seen for a week now.”

“Who can blame him,” said the younger guard, “with a sticchio for a wife and frocio for a son?”

The older guard’s countenance turned suddenly fierce. He shot his associate a disapproving glance. “Enough!” he said and then returned his attention to Davido. “Have you seen him, perhaps,” he asked, gesturing to the surrounding countryside, “along the road or in any of these rhymer villages?”

“Well, I know not his look, but I’ve been upon this road since morning,” Davido lied convincingly, “when I set out from Siena, and I have seen only shepherds with their flocks and farmers in the fields.”

“Ah,” sighed the older guard, “then you see how hard our charge?”

Davido nodded.

“Then give unto us a blessing before we part, good friar.”

“Well,” answered Davido, mimicking exactly the line he’d heard Nonno use once before in a similar situation, “it is God and priests who bless and monks who meditate and pray.”

“Then lead us in prayer.” The guard did not wait for a reply and swung a leg over his horse and dismounted.

“Ay,” grunted the younger guard, clearly displeased.

Davido saw the older guard’s eyes widen with anger as he turned to his associate. “Figlio di Puttana! You will dismount your horse right now and bend your knee in prayer,” commanded the older guard with a severity that nearly caused Davido to leap from his wagon seat, “or I will stuff your goddamn balls up your horse’s ass.”

Immediately, the hierarchy became supremely clear as the younger guard grimaced, but dismounted nonetheless.

“Sorry, Friar,” said the older guard, and then, in a rather knightly fashion, he staked his sword into the earth with both hands, held tight its hilt and took a knee in front of Davido’s wagon. “Come,” he beckoned Davido and then bowed his head in supplication.

Davido felt his pulse quicken and the muscles of his body tighten. Usually these exchanges never went further than extending the sign of the cross to a passing stranger. On the few occasions when they had, Nonno had been there to handle the situation; but even in those instances, it had never gone this far. The travel ruse that Nonno had thought up long ago did not extend much beyond dressing like a monk in a heavy frock, wearing a large cross around the neck and knowing a few key facts about the order