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“And is she entitled to the danger? You saw what happened to her at Solinari and then we had ducats aplenty to pave our way. Now we only have our wits against Damari and his condotti.”

“Then they’d better be exceedingly sharp wits.” Lorenzo moved over to the window to stand looking out at the ruined hulls in the shipyard. “And we obviously need all the help we can muster. If you won’t take her, then I will.”

Lion made a violent motion with his hand. “Damn you, Lorenzo, what if I—” He broke off as if afraid to speak the thought gripping his mind.

“What if you lose her, too? Don’t worry. You’re so besotted with Sanchia that you’d probably die gloriously defending her and therefore have no time for foolish regrets.”

Sanchia gazed at Lorenzo blankly and then began to laugh. The laughter was tentative, rusty, but still it was laughter and she felt the knot of anger and sorrow within her miraculously loosen. “That has all the macabre logic I would expect of you, Lorenzo.”

“I am always logical.”

“I don’t like it.” Lion shook his head wearily. “But I obviously can’t move either of you.”

“It’s very wise of you to surrender, for you may well need Sanchia.” Lorenzo turned away from the window. “Because I won’t be able to help you with Damari.”

Lion’s gaze narrowed on his face. “That is your choice, of course.”

“You think I back away from the task?” Lorenzo shook his head.

“But you speak only of Damari. You’ve forgotten that he wouldn’t have been able to do what he did if he hadn’t had the approval and support of Borgia and the pope.

Damari was the sword, but the Borgias were the ones who wielded it.

In my eyes it’s Cesare and Alexander who bear the brunt of the blame. ”

“Certainly a good portion of the blame.”

“And consider this, throughout his entire career Cesare Borgia has adopted whatever methods he found at hand to conquer the cities in his path. The ploy Damari used to defeat Mandara had the advantages of economy and complete devastation. Who is to say Borgia will not choose to use the plague again if the need arises?”

“Dear God,” Sanchia whispered.

“Exactly. If justice is to be done, it must be done to all three.” Lorenzo smiled. “And, as I’m the most qualified for the task, I’ll volunteer to be the dispenser of justice to the noble house of Borgia.”

Sanchia and Lion gazed at him in astonishment.

“You would kill the pope?” Sanchia whispered.

“Do you not believe he deserves it? He’s totally corrupt, a man who has lusted for power his whole life long. Did he not buy the papacy with blood and ducats? Does he not have the blood of any number of people on his hands?”

“No one is saying the world would not be better off without him.” Lion hesitated. “But, Dio , it would be hazardous, if not impossible. Both Borgias are surrounded by guards at all times. How would you manage it?”

“I have no idea. Something will come to me. I’m most ingenious when offered a challenge of this magnitude.” Lorenzo paused. “But you may be sure their deaths will not be easy.”

He had asked if Caterina’s death had been easy, Sanchia remembered, and she had told him that none of the deaths at Mandara had been easy.

“So Damari is mine,” Lion said.

“And Sanchia’s. Don’t be selfish, Lion.” Lorenzo turned toward the door. “I’m going to Cesena to make a few inquiries regarding the whereabouts of Duke Valentino. I should be back in a few days. Will you still be here?”

Lion nodded. “I’ve decided to sell the shipyard to Basala and keep only the one in Marseilles. It will take that long to complete the transaction.”

Sanchia looked at him in surprise. “You’re leaving Italy?”

“We’re leaving Italy. There’s nothing here for us now. I told you once that Mandara was my country.” He shrugged. “And now there is no more Mandara.”

Lorenzo nodded. “It’s best to put Mandara behind you.” He opened the door. “We’ll talk more when I return.”

Lorenzo returned on the evening of the third day as he had promised.

“Borgia has left for Rome,” he announced. “He departed almost immediately after he was paid a visit by Damari. The good duke was said to be in excellent spirits, so it’s safe to assume that he journeyed to his father with the Wind Dancer.”

“And Damari?” Lion asked.

“He was planning on returning to Solinari ‘to dispose of Andreas at leisure,’” Sanchia quoted bitterly.

“But he won’t stay there long. It will worry him that I haven’t launched an attack on Solinari, and he’ll need to know if I’ve spread the disease so he can take steps to protect the Borgias.

He’ll probably come here to Pisa first.” Lion frowned.

“And bring enough men to make sure we have no chance to resist him.”

“Then I believe it’s time to complete our plans,” Lorenzo said with a faint smile.

Lion nodded. “And to put them into motion.”

The next morning Lorenzo left Pisa for Rome.

The following day Lion and Sanchia departed for Florence.

It felt very strange to Sanchia to be riding through the same Porto San Friano from which she had departed those many months ago.

Yet it had not actually been so long, she realized with a slight sense of shock.

They had left Florence through this gate in early March and it was now only late July.

It seemed a lifetime since Lion had come to Giovanni’s shop for that frightened, nervous child.

She was thinking of that other Sanchia as if she were some other person entirely, she thought sadly. Well, and so she was.

“You’re very quiet.” Lion asked, “Are you weary?”

Anxiety threaded his voice and Sanchia tried to smother the impatience it aroused in her.

His cosseting at first had brought her a sense of security and comfort she had badly needed, but now that she was stronger it was unbearable.

“I was thinking about how many things have happened since I left Florence. I’m no longer the same person. ”

He flinched. “Who would not change after the punishment I’ve dealt you?”

“You meant me no harm.”

“That didn’t stop harm from coming to you. I am to blame.”

Sanchia sucked in her breath. Lion’s pampering, the way he avoided touching her as if she were one of the holy saints instead of a woman he wanted, all stemmed from his sense of blame.

“Who knows what would have happened to me if I had stayed here?” she asked softly.

“It could have been as bad. No place is entirely safe.”

“If I hadn’t taken you away, you would never have known Damari.”

“But there was already a Caprino in my life.”

“It’s not the same.”

Dio , the man was stubborn. It would obviously take more than words to change his mind. “Do you think Giulia will help us?”

“We’ll find out shortly. Her casa is—” He broke off with the sharp intake of breath of a man struck an unexpected blow.

Sanchia looked at him in alarm. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just forgot about the doors.” Lion reined in and sat looking at the magnificent bronze doors of the baptistery of the cathedral of Florence, his eyes glittering with sudden moisture.

“Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise. When Marco and I were boys my father brought us to Florence whenever he visited Lorenzo de’ Medici.

My father insisted I go with him to the palace to learn the ways of dealing with princes, but he permitted Marco to run free.

Marco was giddy with joy. He was drunk with the art of Michelozzi and the ideas of Alberti, the beautiful statues and the paintings.

” He stopped, unable to go on for a moment.

“And most of all he loved those bronze doors. He’d get up before daybreak so he could see the first light of dawn strike them, he’d go four streets out of his way to catch a glimpse of them.

Once he said to me, ‘Lion, if I could sculpt something as beautiful as those doors I’d never ask for heaven.

I’d stand outside all day long and ask everyone who passed, Did you see them? Did you really look at them?’”

Sanchia swallowed to ease the sudden tightness of her throat. “I grew so accustomed to walking by the cathedral that I scarcely noticed the doors.”

“Not Marco. Beautiful things were always new to him.” He shook his head. “But most of us do forget to take notice of what is familiar to us. It’s only when they’re lost that we realize how we valued them.”

“That’s true.” Sanchia wanted desperately to comfort but knew there was nothing she could say to ease the depth of suffering she sensed in him at this moment. “But perhaps if we remember that, we can learn to—”

“It’s not enough . It’s too late.” His hand tightened with sudden violence on the reins. “I want him back! I want all of them back, Sanchia.”

She was silent, gazing at him in an agony of tenderness.

Then he straightened his shoulders and deliberately loosened his grip on the reins. “I’m behaving foolishly,” he said gruffly. “I’m not a boy to cry for what’s beyond my reach.” His gaze shifted to her face. “I’ve distressed you.”

“Distressed me?” She was exasperated. She could feel the tension and sorrow coiled within him, but he allowed her only an occasional fleeting glimpse before he walled it up inside himself again. “It’s you who are in distress.”

“Nonsense. All goes well with me.” He nudged Tabron forward. “Come along. Giulia’s casa is on the next street.”

Giulia Marzo looked up warily from her account book as the maid showed Lion and Sanchia into her chamber.

“What a surprise to see you, Lion. I believe you stated the intention of never visiting me again.” She looked from Sanchia to Lion.

“I see you still have your little slave. Has she brought you pleasure?”

“More than I’ve brought her.” He gently pushed Sanchia down on a chair by the door. “Sit down, cara . Since Giulia is failing in courtesy, we must take our comfort where we may.”

“When did you do otherwise?” Giulia asked dryly. “As I remember, you always did exactly as you pleased.” She paused. “As it pleased you to kill Caprino.”

“Did his death disturb you?”