The Road to Damietta Read Online Free Page A

summoned Guido to the door and in a leering speech accused him of dancing drunken in the piazza, of joining the crowd eating and guzzling at the altar, and of other outrageous acts. This attended to, Francis raised his hands in a supercilious benediction; everyone had a hearty drink of wine, then all trooped off to pray.
    I saw none of the orgy, it being described by my brother one night at supper, though I did hear the horrendous noise and the bacchic songs. I could easily imagine how Francis looked when he stood at the bishop's door, his black brows drawn down, a clown's smile on his face.
    I didn't see Francis again until a month, a month and three long weeks, had passed. Raul fell ill and forgot about him. The Bernardone shop was not far away. I thought of going there by myself. I thought of going with my mother, but I was sure that she would talk Francis to death while I stood around in silence. I also thought of asking Clare to go with me. This would be quite silly, I decided, since she was the most beautiful girl in the city of Assisi and the province of Umbria as well. Then I decided not to go at all, thinking it much too bold if I went by myself.
    Truthfully, I never decided. The decision was made for me. One night an unheard voice spoke. An unseen hand reached out in the dark and quietly took mine.
    At dawn I sent a servant into the courtyard to sample the day. She came back to report an overcast sky and a north wind, so I dressed to suit the weather in what I thought might catch his eye—a blue surcoat trimmed at the cuffs and hem with gray squirrel.
    The falconer brought Simonetta, my trim saker hawk, hatched in Venice and given to me by my father months ago on my birthday. I wore a blue gauntlet threaded with yellow stones on my left wrist to protect me from her talons. Simonetta wore a golden hood to protect her from the weather and from any temptations to fly away that she might encounter. White hawks were fashionable at the moment, and I had three of them, but Simonetta, jet-black with yellow legs, was my favorite.
    Remembering that Francis was said to sleep late, I started off at noon, but no sooner had I reached the square than Raul, still suffering from a cold and wrapped to the eyes in a woolen surcoat, came riding up.
    "You're quite bold," he croaked.
    "Bold?" I asked innocently.
    "You're on your way to meet Francis Bernardone, alone."
    "How do you know where I am going?"
    "By your favorite hawk and your pearl-encrusted shoes. Also
from the look in your eye. By chance, have you told your father about all this?"
    "Yes, I told him that I wished to shop for cloth and he asked where. 'At Bernardone's,' was my reply.
    "'There's no other place to buy cloth in the city of Assisi, except the place owned by the scoundrel Bernardone?' Father asked.
    " Yes,' I told him."
    In all of the provinces of Umbria and Tuscany, there was no place that had finer cloth in the latest weaving and colors than Bernardone's.
    "'Your mother will go with you.'
    "'Mother likes things that I don't like. She's a little backward in her ideas about cloth.'
    '"Then you will go with a maid and a proper number of serving women. Also with guards.'"
    Raul grumbled but fell in beside me. As we crossed San Rufino Square he said, though it seemed very painful for him to talk, "I heard that your idol, Francis Bernardone, stole a length of expensive cloth and some money from his father. The cloth he gave to a beggar, and the money he spent on a drunken party."
    "The city of Assisi hatches rumors like summer flies," I said. "Where did you hear this one?"
    "Yesterday, from your father."
    "I don't believe it."
    "It does sound odd. A son stealing from his own father. But Francis Bernardone is an odd one. You can expect most anything from him. And not only this. His father is angry. He's even threatened to summon Francis before the authorities."
    "I still don't believe it." And I didn't believe so much as a single word of the story.
    Flanked by