I watched him with mild curiosity. Angelo always tried to compete with me in intellectual pursuits—and always failed. I might not be as smart as people said, but I was yet to see the match of me. I had travelled the world, from Italy to England, and nobody ever could beat me in debates. Which made many venerable professors very mad with me.

I suppose, I had made a lot more enemies than friends.

I smiled a wry smile.

‘Angelo, this talk is useless. You’ve made your choice and I’ve made mine. I do prefer courageous death to pallid life. Would you mind leaving now? I really don’t have any time to waste on useless conversations.’

‘So, the answer is no?’ he asked.

‘Did you really expect anything else?’

He shrugged his shoulders.

‘Some people are very brave until they see the face of death. Then they suddenly realise how much valuable their life is. And change their mind.’

‘There are things more dear to me than my life.’

Angelo shook his head.

‘Obstinacy must run in your blood.’

‘I have no reason to be ashamed of my ancestors.’ That was definitely the coup de grâce.

Flustered, Angelo turned on his heel and marched out without saying another word. Well, finally I had peace and quiet. Probably, not for long though.

I leaned against the cold wall and closed my eyes.

The world outside my tiny cell was coming to life. Inside the thick walls of Torre dell’Annona I could hear the heavy steps of the guards, doors squeaking and screeching, people talking, screaming, laughing, shouting orders. Fainter sounds were coming from the courtyard: hoofs clattering on the stones, horses neighing, people running around. Fainter still, there was the murmur of the great city of Rome: Romans going about their business, narrow streets bustling with crowds, spectators gathering at Campo de’Fiori…