“But she can be released from these walls,” Leonello cut in effortlessly. “Suora Serafina served the Pope’s daughter here, as you know. The Duke—you are aware Cardinal Borgia is now Duc de Valentinois, or Duke Valentino? He wishes his sister’s reputation, and those who might wish to damage it . . . more closely guarded. We are to take Suora Serafina with us.”

The prioress looked from Leonello to Carmelina and back with something like horror. “For what purpose?”

I flicked my eyes at Bartolomeo. He really was holding her entirely too gently to be credible here. I’d coached him last night in his role as brutal henchman—“More swagger, Bartolomeo, and do try to leer occasionally. Is a little brutality too much to ask?” But Carmelina’s former apprentice, I’m afraid, had no talent for mime. He stood there holding Carmelina between his hands like a bouquet of roses, and what we really needed here was a good snarl and a cruel yank on her arms. Fortunately, my clever cook produced a stifled little cry as though he had yanked cruelly on her arms.

“Where will you be taking her?” the prioress repeated, horrified.

My turn in the drama, and I leaned forward earnestly. “It’s been decided that I will find her suitable work in the countryside. She’ll come to no harm, I assure you.” At that, Leonello smirked behind me in amused contempt. Naïve females. “No harm at all!” I continued with a dim-witted little trill. “But it was thought better if she took up another name there, and Suora Serafina was pronounced dead and buried behind these walls.”

Leonello drew one of his little knives and began to clean under his nails with it, giving the prioress a silky smile. She’ll be dead and buried soon enough, that smile whispered, and the prioress stared mesmerized at the knife.

“And for your trouble, naturally you shall be compensated.” I produced a purse and dropped it to the table beside me with a negligent clink. I’d sold my diamond rose brooch for a purse that heavy. I liked the idea that Rodrigo Borgia, Pope Alexander VI, was so kindly funding a nun’s escape from her vows.

Carmelina managed another little cry. Leonello cleaned his nails some more, looking sinister. Bartolomeo lurked, looking not very sinister, but the prioress had no eyes for him as her gaze flicked from the knife to the purse.

“You know the reason Suora Serafina ran from her convent in Venice?” I added, careless. “It’s a shocking story.” Leonello had told me all about Carmelina’s grisly little piece of dead saint, and I’d had an idea how to use the information.

“Cardinal Borgia gave no details.” The prioress sounded cautiously interested. “I assumed Suora Serafina ran away to join a lover. It’s usually the reason, with these feckless young nuns.”