Chained naked, with his arms and legs spread painfully apart, he writhed in vain. He was gripped by raw fear as cold sweat ran in rivulets down his contorted face and aching ribs. Served up like a sacrificial lamb, he was defenseless. Suddenly, a finely polished, curved steel blade flashed in the stark torchlight as his merciless, hooded tormentor slowly drew it from its scabbard. He could see hatred seething in his wolf-like eyes; a blazing yellow fire seemed to dance in each dark orb. Mortified, he pathetically attempted to beg him to spare his life but the words froze in his paralyzed throat. As the relentless blade steadily moved toward him, he tried one last time to jerk his arms and legs free but it was no use, as the rusted iron manacles only tore deeper into the soft flesh of his wrists and ankles. He was to be castrated, like an animal.
"No!" he managed to scream, as he braced his naked groin to withstand the unimaginable pain.
"Constantine."
The executioner miraculously stopped and shouted his name.
"Constantine!"
Suddenly, the chains fell away from his arms and legs. The man was laughing.
Constantine sat bolt upright, dripping wet, and stared at the man, disoriented.
"Paolo!"
In the dim candlelight, he could see his older cousin, standing beside his bed. A toothy grin split the short charcoal beard that wrapped around his mouth and chin. He began to laugh heartily. Embarrassed, Constantine Ziani fell back and sucked in a deep breath as he wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. His glanced at his wrists. They were no longer bleeding and sore.
"You were having a nightmare. Now get up and get dressed. Captain-General Loredan wants to see us — now."
