‘Leave it to me, su altezza.’

Rodrigo turned his irritable gaze on Marco. ‘I take it you can lay your hands on a suitable product for our purpose?’

Marco smiled deprecatingly. ‘That is rather my cousin’s area of expertise.’

‘I should be able to lay my hands on enough cantarella for our purposes,’ said Silvio.

‘And what is that?’

‘It’s a most effective form of arsenic and it is very difficult to trace.’

‘Good! See to it!’

‘I must say, Maestro,’ said Marco, ‘we are lost in admiration that you should associate yourself personally so closely with this enterprise. Is that not dangerous for you?’

‘The Assassin will not dare come after me. He is clever, but he will never outwit me. In any case, I feel inclined to involve myself more directly. The Pazzi disappointed us in Florence. I hope sincerely that the Barbarigi will not do the same…’ He glowered at them.

Silvio snickered. ‘The Pazzi were a bunch of amateur -‘

‘The Pazzi,’ Rodrigo interrupted him, ‘were a potent and venerable family, and they were brought to their knees by one young Assassin. Do not underestimate this troublesome foe, or he will bring the Barbarigi down too.’ He paused to let that sink in. ‘Now go, and get this done. We cannot afford another failure!’

‘What are your own plans, Master?’

‘I return to Rome. Time is of the essence!’

Rodrigo rose abruptly and left the room. From his vantage-point hidden on the balcony, Ezio watched him leave alone and cross the square, causing a flock of pigeons to scatter as he strode in the direction of the Molo. The other men soon followed him, separating and taking their own paths out of the square. When all was silent, he leapt down to the flagstones beneath and hurried off in the direction of Antonio’s headquarters.

Once there, he was met by Rosa, who greeted him with a lingering kiss. ‘Put your dagger back in its sheath,’ she smiled as their bodies pressed together.

‘You’re the one who made me draw it. And you’re the one,’ he added knowingly, ‘with its sheath.’

She took his hand. ‘Come on, then.’

‘No, Rosa, mi dispiace veramente but I can’t.’

‘So – you tire of me already!’

‘You know it isn’t that! But I have to see Antonio. It’s urgent.’

Rosa looked at him and saw the intense expression on his face, in his cold blue-grey eyes. ‘OK. For this once I forgive you. He’s in his office. I think he misses that model of the Palazzo Seta now that he’s got the real thing! Come!’

‘Ezio!’ said Antonio as soon as he saw him. ‘I don’t like that look. Is everything all right?’

‘I wish it was. I’ve just discovered that Carlo Grimaldi and the two Barbarigi cousins Silvio and Marco are in league with… a man I know too well, whom people call the Spaniard. They plan to murder Doge Mocenigo and replace him with one of their own.’

‘That is terrible news. With their own man as Doge they’ll have the entire Venetian fleet and trade empire in their grasp.’ He paused. ‘And they call me a criminal!’

‘So – you’ll help me stop them?’

Antonio extended his hand. ‘You have my word, little brother. And the support of all my men.’

‘And women,’ put in Rosa.

Ezio smiled. ‘Grazie, amici.’

Antonio looked thoughtful. ‘But Ezio, this will take some planning. The Palazzo Ducale is so strongly defended that it makes the Palazzo Seta look like an open park. And we don’t have time for me to have a scale model built so we can plan -‘

Ezio held up his hand and said firmly, ‘Nothing is impenetrable.’

The two of them looked at him. Then Antonio laughed, and Rosa smiled naughtily. ‘Nothing is impenetrable! – No wonder we like you, Ezio!’

Late in the day, when there were fewer people about, Antonio and Ezio made their way to the Doge’s Palace. ‘Treachery like this no longer surprises me,’ Antonio was saying as they went. ‘Doge Mocenigo is a good man and I’m surprised he’s lasted so long. As for me, when I was a child, we were taught that the nobles were just and kind. I believed it, too. And though my father was a cobbler and my mother a scullery-maid, I aspired to be much more. I studied hard, I persevered, but I could never make myself one of the ruling class. If you aren’t born into it, acceptance is impossible. So – I ask you, Ezio, who are the true nobles of Venice? Men like Grimaldi or Marco and Silvio Barbarigo? No! We are! The thieves and the mercenaries and the whores. We keep this place going and each one of us has more honour in his little finger than the whole pack of our so-called rulers! We love Venice. The others merely see it as a means of enriching themselves.’

Ezio kept his counsel, for he could not see Antonio, good as the man was, ever wearing the corno ducale. In due course they arrived at St Mark’s Square, making their way round it to the pink palace. It was quite clearly heavily guarded, and although the two of them managed to clamber undetected up scaffolding which had been erected on the side wall of the cathedral which adjoined the palace, when they looked over from their vantage-point they could see that even though they could – and did – leap across on to the palace roof, access to the courtyard, even from there, was barred by a high grille whose spiked top curved outwards and downwards. Below them in the courtyard they could see the Doge himself, Giovanni Mocenigo, a dignified old man who nevertheless seemed like a shrivelled husk inhabiting the gorgeous robes and corno of the leader of the city and the state, in conversation with his appointed murderer, Carlo Grimaldi.

Ezio listened intently.

‘Don’t you understand what I’m offering you, Altezza?’ Carlo was saying. ‘Listen to me, please, for this is your last chance!’

‘How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you threaten me!’ retorted the Doge.

Carlo was immediately apologetic. ‘Forgive me, sir. I meant nothing by it. But please believe that your safety is my principal concern…’

With that, the pair moved into the building and out of sight.

‘We have very little time,’ said Antonio, reading Ezio’s thoughts. ‘And there’s no way through this grille. Even if there were, look at the number of guards around. Diavolo!‘ He swiped the air in frustration, causing a cluster of pigeons to take to the air. ‘Look at them! The birds! How easy it might be for us if we could only fly!’