Perhaps. But who else would hold such sway over the flagellants?

I am not certain, I confessed.

I hope it was the Archbishop who dispatched them to kill ben Solomon.

How can you say this, Gabriella?

Do you not see, Rafael? If the Archbishop was motivated by his debt, then it is now canceled. And he might forget his grievance against the rest of us.

No, I said, as I clutched her hand in mine. The Archbishop will not forget. Neither will those crazed beasts in their bloodied robes. Their leader blamed this pestilence on the Jews. They will come back, Gabriella.

We were interrupted by the arrival of her older brother and sister along with several of their children. Between the death of their father and the terror of the flagellants, the family was in such a heightened state of agitation that it prevented further rational discussion. I used the distraction as opportunity to go see Don Marco.

I arrived at the gates of the San Giovanni Monastery more breathless than ever. It was the most effort I had expended since I had contracted the pestilence, and the climb up the hill seemed thrice as steep as before.

I was surprised to find such a hubbub of activity outside the monastery. Monks and peasants labored alongside each other, as they sawed and nailed planks. On the eastern side of the main church, mounds of dirt ringed a pit that was so deep I had to stand at its edge to see its base. At the bottom, men with spades hacked at the firm ground. A stocky man who looked to be neither peasant nor monk marched about, shouting directions to the other workers.

Don Marco rushed over to shake my hand with great affection. Your recovery must be complete if you are able to make the journey here, he said.

I am much improved. What is happening here, Don Marco?

We are building a sanctuary.

Underground? I asked in confusion.

Not for the brothers. For the harbingers sent to us by God.

You mean the rats?

At this juncture, the burly man shouting the orders joined us. I once constructed noble edifices, churches, and palaces! he exclaimed. Now I build underground crypts for rats.

Don Marco introduced the man as Giuseppe the builder, a master craftsman originally from Milano. Giuseppe was quick to respond that all great builders come from Milano.

What is the intention of this crypt? I asked.

Other churches house the relics of holy saints and apostles, Don Marco said.

These rats are hardly relics.

No, they are far more important, he said with unusual gravity. For they carry the Lord’s forgiveness along with His wrath.

How so?

These divine creatures possess the power to heal as well as to damn. God did not dispatch them to San Giovanni as a mere blessing for us insignificant brothers. No, I believe the Lord has entrusted them to us for safekeeping.

Safekeeping? For what reason?

The next time.