As they crested a ridge Mauro had to brake suddenly to avoid running into three wizened old men in black cloaks with pointed black cowls riding wiry little ponies. The car stalled and stopped in the middle of the road. Slowly the men rode round them and carried on. They were in no hurry. Life here had gone on, unchanged, for centuries. James thought he could have seen men dressed like these, riding their ponies down these roads, five hundred years ago, maybe even a thousand.

He looked round at Mauro. His head had flopped forward on to the wheel and he was sleeping.

‘Come along,’ said James, shaking him. ‘Move over. I can drive.’

Mauro tried to protest, but he was too tired and by the time James had manhandled him into the passenger seat, he was fast asleep again.

James took the wheel and looked over the controls. The Hispano-Suiza wasn’t too different from his roadster back in Eton and after a bumpy start he was driving with some confidence.

The sun was coming up, which would make things easier, but they still had a fair way to go. Never mind. James felt alive, all his senses alert. The Hispano-Suiza had a big, powerful engine but he was in control of it. He was filled with a wild, reckless spirit.

He knew that he would never forget this night.

14

14

The Last Thing That Goes Through the Mind of a Dying Man

People had been streaming into the small town of Sant’ Ugo all morning, mostly poor peasants and shepherds but also a scattering of richer families and a few sightseers and tourists.

The town had originally been little more than a collection of shepherds’ huts, but Count Ugo had enlarged it to accommodate his workers. It was now an ugly, dull collection of hastily built, and in some cases only half-completed, concrete buildings painted a lurid salmon pink and laid out on a formal grid design with wide streets. The only thing of any interest was a sports stadium at the edge of town, towards which the crowds were flocking.

James nosed the big Hispano-Suiza down the packed main road, trying not to run anyone over. He was reminded of the Fourth of June back in Eton. Overexcited people, many of whom seemed to be already drunk, spilt off the pavements and wandered into the streets without a care.

It was hot and noisy and confusing, especially to James who had been driving on deserted country roads all night. He wondered how he and Mauro must look – two grimy boys driving a big, dusty Hispano-Suiza – but nobody seemed to pay them much attention. Occasionally a group of rowdy young men would surround the car, singing and shouting and banging on the bonnet, but as far as anyone was concerned they were just two more revellers come to enjoy the party.