They overslept, of course, but Ezio was not about to forego another bout in favour of cannon practice, even though a part of his mind reproved him for this. In the background he could distantly hear the sounds of marching - clattering men moving at a running march - and shouted orders, followed by the boom of cannon.

‘Target practice with the new cannon,’ said Ezio when, for a moment, Caterina stopped and looked at him quizzically. ‘Manoeuvres. Mario’s a hard taskmaster.’

The heavy brocade curtains across the windows shut out most of the light and the room remained cocooned in comfortable dimness; no servant came to disturb them. Soon, Caterina’s moans of pleasure drowned out any other noise to his ear. His hands tightened around her strong buttocks, and she was pulling him up urgently towards her when their lovemaking was interrupted by more than just the roar of cannon.

Suddenly the peace and the softness of the room was shattered. The windows blew away with a mighty roar, taking a part of the stone outer wall with them, as a gigantic cannonball smashed in and landed, boiling hot, inches from the bed. The floor sagged under its weight.

Ezio had instinctively thrown himself protectively over Caterina at the first sign of danger, and in that moment the lovers transformed themselves into professionals and colleagues - if they were to remain lovers, they first had to survive.

They leapt from the bed, throwing on their clothes. Ezio noticed that apart from the delicious phial of oil, Caterina touted a very useful jagged-edged dagger beneath her skirts.

‘What the hell … ?’ Ezio cried.