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Damari watched as one of the soldiers loading the wagon seized a torch from a companion and ran toward the corner of the labyrinth.

“Now,” Lion said softly. “Into the maze, Damari. You shouldn’t object to dying there. As I remember, it’s a place for which you have a great fondness.”

“You’re going to chase me through the maze?”

“Oh, no.” Lion shook his head. “We’re going to let the flames chase you.

There’s been little rain this last month.

The hedges should take the flames easily…

and spread rapidly, Damari. The north entrance will be blocked by flames in a few minutes.

” He nodded toward the opening in front of them.

“We’ll fire this entrance as soon as you pass through. ”

“If I pass through.”

“Your choice. The sword or the maze. Does that not sound familiar? I admit I would prefer you to choose the maze. There’s a certain justice in it.” Lion’s expression hardened. “I’ll enjoy seeing you burn as Mandara burned.”

“Perhaps the flames will spare you for your great destiny,” Sanchia said softly. “As you spared the people of Mandara, as you spared that poor Laurette.”

“They will spare me. You think you’ve bested me?” Damari shook his head as he turned and strode toward the entrance. “I’ll live to see you all dead.”

He smelled the smoke, heard the crackle of flames in the shrubbery behind him as soon as he entered the maze. The bitch and Andreas were wasting no time.

He could see a flare lighting the night sky ahead of him. The north entrance was burning. He instinctively started to run, thorns tearing at his naked flesh as he brushed against the hedges. He would escape. He had to escape. His destiny must be fulfilled.

Those fools had forgotten there was a way out other than the entrances they had set afire. The west hedge through which Andreas and his brother had escaped had not been replanted. He could wriggle through the hedge and then hide in the shrubbery until they were gone.

His breathing grew painful as he ran. The damned smoke was growing thicker, causing his eyes to tear and sting.

Ah, just ahead was the hole in the hedge!

He sprinted forward and started wriggling frantically through the opening. He cried out as the thorns pierced his legs and buttocks and stabbed into his genitals. He would kill them for this outrage! He would kill them all!

“No, Damari.”

He looked up and froze, no longer feeling the bite of the thorns and sharp twigs.

Sanchia was standing outside the circular opening in the hedge, a torch in her hand.

Her expression was stern as she slowly shook her head.

“There has to be justice.” She lit the branches at the top of the opening.

“Piero.” She lit the left side. “Bianca.” She touched the torch to the right side.

“Marco.” Finally she touched the flames to the bottom of the circle. “Caterina.”

“No!” Damari heard himself screaming as he backed out of the opening as the flames licked at him.

The bitch stood there beyond the flaming circle looking as delicate and fragile in her white gown as the figure on a cameo.

“One more,” she said quietly. She tossed the torch into the center of the opening. “Mandara.”

The hedge blazed high, a solid sheet of flame.

He was going to die, Damari thought dazedly. No, it could not be true. He scrambled away from the flaming hedge and onto the path. He began to run down the path, trying to see through the ever-thickening smoke.

There had to be a way out. He was screaming the words, he realized.

The burning hedges were all around him now, the fire coming closer, still closer.

He turned the corner.

Another wall of flame!

No matter how swiftly he ran, he could not get away from it. The flame touched the naked flesh of his back, and in agony he threw back his head and howled. The rest of his flesh was catching fire as easily as had the hedges.

No, it could not be. He had a destiny.…

Lorenzo opened his eyes to see Luigi’s scowling face above him. He swallowed and moistened his dry lips. “I take it I’ve yet to depart this earth, as you bear not the slightest resemblance to an angel.”

“Why would you think you deserve heaven?”

“For killing two arch demons?”

Luigi shook his head.

Lorenzo made a face. “They didn’t die?”

“Well, you didn’t totally fail. The pope will probably die at any moment.

They say he was administered extreme unction at vespers today.

” Luigi lifted a goblet of wine to Lorenzo’s lips and fed him a sip.

“And Cesare may yet succumb. The servants say he didn’t eat as much of the lamb as his father, but he lies gravely ill in a sickroom above the Borgia apartments. ”

“How long has it been?”

“You’ve been ill for five days.”

“And we’re still in your house?” Lorenzo’s gaze searched Luigi’s face. “I told you to leave Rome at once.”

“And why should I obey a man who’s stupid enough to poison himself?”

“You stayed to care for me?”

“I stayed because I had no need to go. The fools think both His Holiness and his son fell victim to the same bad-air illness that’s struck down nearly everyone in Rome.” He grinned. “I told you that Rome in summer wasn’t a healthy place to be.”

Lorenzo began to laugh weakly. “No one is thinking it peculiar that they both fell ill on the same day?”

Luigi shrugged. “There are those few who murmur of poison, but they speak of the banquet that Alexander and the duke enjoyed at the vineyards of Cardinal Adriano Corneto on August fifth. They say the Borgias wished to poison Corneto but the goblets became switched. Corneto also—conveniently—has fallen ill.”

“Jesú , that thought is as foolish as the other. Even I couldn’t brew a poison that would delay the effect for almost two weeks.

” Lorenzo hesitated, considering the advantages of such a potion.

“Though it would be a challenge to develop one. Since Cesare is still alive, perhaps I should think about it.”

“Think about going back to sleep and getting well.”

“Ah, you worry about me.”

“I care nothing if you live or die.” Luigi gave him another sip of wine and then gently wiped Lorenzo’s lips with a surprisingly clean cloth. “Why should I? I just grow tired of cleaning up your vomit and hearing you moan. Who is Caterina?”

Lorenzo was silent.

“Don’t answer me then. It’s not really as if I want to know anything about you.” Luigi set down the goblet on the floor and stood up. “Go back to sleep, and if you vomit again you can wipe it up yourself.”

“Luigi.”

Luigi turned to face him.

“I…thank you.”

Luigi looked quickly away. “It will be much easier to get rid of you when you’re on your feet than to drag your stinking carcass out the door.”

“Have I ever mentioned the sweet eloquence of your discourse?” Lorenzo closed his eyes and rolled over on his side. “I’ll sleep for a while, but awaken me in a few hours. There’s something I must do.”

“You can do nothing. You’re as weak as a starving kitten mewling for its mother’s teat.”

“What a truly denigrating comparison.” Lorenzo didn’t open his eyes. “If I cannot do the task myself, then you must help me. Wake me…”

————

“Hold the lantern higher. It’s black as a chimney in this alley. Do you want me to stumble into the Tiber and drown?” Luigi tightened his grip around Lorenzo’s slender form. “I know you have no fear for yourself. You’d probably float. They say the devil guards his own.”

“My dear Luigi, it’s humiliating enough having to submit to being carried like an infant without being insulted as well. Are we nearing the Vatican?”

“Just ahead,” Luigi panted. “And you’re heavier than an infant. About the weight of a boar dressed for serving or a side of beef before it’s spitted and—”

“Stop.” Lorenzo’s tone was pained. “I realize you’re enjoying my plight, but please refrain from comparing me to one of your dishes.

” He peered into the darkness ahead but could see nothing beyond the circle of the lantern light except the warm mist rising from the river.

“If you continue in this vein, I’ll be forced to walk and deprive you of this purely temporary feeling of superiority. ”

Luigi grunted. “And fall into a heap on the floor as you did when you tried to get out of bed?”

“I can walk—” He halted as Luigi snorted and then conceded, “A little. I just have to become accustomed to the idea that my limbs have only the consistency of pasta dough. I’m sure you appreciate that comparis—Ah, there it is.”

Luigi stopped short. “This is stupidity. We have no business here at this time of the evening, and those Swiss guards will cleave our heads like melons with their halberds. Let me take you back to the house.”

“After I’ve patiently suffered all the insults and vilification you’ve heaped upon my hapless head? We will definitely go on.” Lorenzo paused. “Or I’ll go on. I don’t think the situation will be as perilous as you believe, but, if you prefer, you can put me down and I’ll go on alone.”

Luigi muttered curses as he started toward the gates.

“You have the brains of a peahen. The pope may lie dying but he’s still the pope.

The Vatican is guarded more closely than any palace in all of Italy, and Cesare’s guards have formed a cordon around him while he lies helpless. There’s no way you can kill him now.”

“I know I cannot kill him. I must wait for another opportunity. That’s not why we came.”

“Then, by all the saints, what are we doing here?”

“The pope has something I want, and this is the best time to pluck it from his treasury.”

“And now you think of robbing the papal treasury?” Luigi shook his head. “Cristo , do you know how difficult that will be?”

“Not difficult at all, if our timing is correct.” Lorenzo’s gaze searched the darkness of the courtyard. “And I believe it very well may be. Where are the Swiss guards, Luigi? Where are the mighty forces that guard His Holiness?”

Luigi frowned as his gaze wandered over the empty courtyard. “Why, I don’t know…”