“You wouldn’t have me back at all if not for Leonello.” Giulia turned her smile on me, still stretched out in my seat opposite. “You’ve heard how he defended me?”

The Pope’s fierce dark eyes found me through the carriage’s shadows. “You’ll be tended by Our own physician, little man—you’ll want for nothing. You’ll be well rewarded, We promise in the name of God.”

I gave the best half bow I could manage lying down. “Your Holiness.”

He had already forgotten me, looking back to Giulia. “Now that We have you back and safe, We deal with the French. If they so much as laid a finger on you—”

“They were all perfect gentlemen,” Giulia said smoothly. “Though I must admit I found those cannons of theirs rather fearsome.”

“They may have cannons, but their king is a fool.”

Perhaps, I thought, but a fool with a claim to the kingdom of Naples in the south. When old King Ferrente died, King Charles of France had declared he would press his claim, and he’d come to do so with an army of near twenty-five thousand. Twenty-five thousand French pike-men would be enough to make any man nervous if he faced them, but the Pope looked merely contemptuous. “Little Charles wants Naples?” he snorted. “Let him come through Rome first, and I’ll make him beg for it.”

“Will you?” Giulia laced her pale fingers with his swarthy ones. “That I would like to see.”

“Well, you won’t, because I’m sending you to safety first, mi perla. One stint of captivity is enough!” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll let Charles think I mean to grant his claim of title to Naples—he’ll make his troops behave themselves, if he thinks he’ll get that out of me. I’ll promise him this and that, and when he marches on Naples I’ll let him strand himself there while his army gets sick and his supply lines fail.”

“Will they start failing?”

“Cesare will make sure of it. I’ll give him to the French for a good-faith hostage; he’ll plant a few seeds of discord, then he’ll escape. Meanwhile, I’ll hook us an ally or two against the French. Milan must be feeling rather nervous by this time. Perhaps Venice too.” The Pope did not give any more details of his plans before an audience, even an insignificant audience like me, but his chuckle was wicked as a stream of good sins as he wrapped Giulia more tightly in his arms. “Bah! Now I have you back, mi perla, I’m full of plans. And you”—giving her ear a fierce tweak—“had better be full of remorse for causing me all this worry! Next time I tell you to cut your visit to your family short and come home to me, maybe you’ll listen!”

“Yes, Your Holiness,” she said demurely.