‘We must approach them with all the caution we would use to approach a nest of vipers,’ Machiavelli concluded. ‘And God knows where and how soon they will next strike.’ He paused and drank half a glass of wine. ‘And now, Mario, I leave you. Ezio, we will meet again soon, I trust.’

‘You’re leaving this evening?’

‘Time is of the essence, good Mario. I ride for Rome tonight. Farewell.’

The room was silent once Machiavelli had left. After a long pause, Ezio said bitterly, ‘He blames me for not killing Rodrigo when I had the chance.’ He looked round at them. ‘You all do.’

‘Any of us might have made the decision you made,’ said his mother. ‘You were sure he was dying.’

Mario came and put an arm round his shoulders. ‘Machiavelli knows your value; we all do. And even with the Pope out of the way, we’d still have had to deal with his brood.’

‘But if I had cut off the head, could the body have survived?’

‘We must deal with the situation as it is, good Ezio, not with it as it might have been.’ Mario clapped him on the back. ‘And now, as we are in for a busy day tomorrow, I suggest we dine and prepare for an early night!’

Caterina’s eyes met Ezio’s. Did he imagine it, or was there a flicker of lust there? He shrugged inwardly. Perhaps he was just imagining it.

7

Ezio ate lightly - just pollo ripieno with roasted vegetables - and he drank his Chianti cut half and half with water. There was little conversation at dinner, and he answered his mother’s string of questions politely but laconically. After all the tension that had mounted in anticipation of the meeting, and which had now melted away, he was very tired. He had barely had a chance to rest since leaving Rome, and it looked now as if it would be a long time still before he could realize his long-cherished ambition of spending some time back in his old home in Florence, reading and walking in the surrounding gentle hills.