Once the stitches were in and the wound bandaged so that Ezio looked like a turbaned Turk, the doctor smiled encouragement. 'That'll be three fiorini, for now. I'll come to your palazzo in a few days and remove the stitches. That'll be another three fiorini to pay then. You'll have a terrible headache, but it'll pass. Just try to rest - if it's in your nature! And don't worry: the wound looks worse than it is, and there's even a bonus: there shouldn't be much of a scar, so you won't be disappointing the ladies too greatly in future!'

Once they were back in the street, Federico put his arm round his younger brother. He pulled out a flask and offered it to Ezio. 'Don't worry,' he said, noticing the expression on Ezio's face. 'It's our father's best grappa. Better than mother's milk for a man in your condition.'

They both drank, feeling the fiery liquid warm them. 'Quite a night,' said Federico.

'Indeed. I only wish they were all as much fun as -' but Ezio interrupted himself as he saw that his brother was beginning to grin from ear to ear. 'Oh, wait!' he corrected himself, laughing: 'They are!'

'Even so, I think a little food and drink wouldn't be a bad thing to set you up before we go home,' said Federico. 'It's late, I know, but there's a taverna nearby where they don't close until breakfast time and -'

'- you and the oste are amici intimi?'

'How did you guess?'

An hour or so later, after a meal of ribollita and bistecca washed down with a bottle of Brunello, Ezio felt as if he'd never been wounded at all. He was young and fit, and felt that all his lost energy had flowed back into him. The adrenaline of the victory over the Pazzi mob certainly contributed to the swiftness of his recovery.

'Time to go home, little brother,' said Federico. 'Father's sure to be wondering where we are, and you're the one he looks to to help him with the bank. Luckily for me, I've no head for figures, which is why I suppose he can't wait to get me into politics!'