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“Business. Go.”
“Okay.” Roberto turned away and walked back to the farmhouse, and the man halted the mare and dismounted, his cloak swirling around him. He breathed heavily, and his face was slaked with sweat, leaving spittle on his beard. The mare was exhausted, her nostrils as round as ducats.
Franco took the mare’s reins and wiped foam from her neck. “Well?”
“Franco, it’s done. I took him to the madhouse.”
“Good.” Franco’s chest tightened. It was a dirty piece of work, but not as dirty as it could have been, since he hadn’t followed orders. “Remember, Claudio, this is our secret. If you’re ever asked, you must say you killed the boy.”
“I will.”
“And you weren’t seen at the festival?”
“I don’t think so.”
Franco didn’t like the answer. “Were you seen or not?”
“As I say, I don’t... think so, but I can’t guarantee anything. I waited until his mother was distracted, but there were so many people—”
“Look in my eyes. Were you seen? Yes or no?”
“No,” Claudio answered, but his eyes betrayed him.
Franco felt stricken. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t risk being discovered or all would be lost. He willed himself to action. Quickly, he withdrew his knife from its sheath and plunged it into Claudio’s chest.
Claudio’s eyes flew open. He emitted a moan, dropped to his knees, and flopped over onto his side. Franco controlled the revulsion and horror he felt as he wrenched the knife from Claudio’s chest. Blood spurted from the wound as the man’s heart pumped its last.
“Franco!” Roberto rushed over.
Franco whirled around, shocked. “I thought you were inside—”
“No!” Roberto knelt beside Claudio, whose gaze fixed on the stars. “Youkilledhim!”
“I had to.” Franco felt sick to his stomach. He forced himself to think. He wiped his knife clean on the ground.
“How could youdosuch a thing?” Roberto looked up, distraught. “You stabbed him, unprovoked! Why?”
“It was the only way.” Franco returned his knife to its sheath.
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know how things are here.”
“It’s a sin!” Roberto’s eyes filled with tears. “A mortal sin!”
Franco straightened, composing himself. “Roberto, what’s done is done. I’ll take the body, and you take the mare. She needs to be cooled down.”
“Franco, this isn’t like you!”
“No, it isn’t likeyou.” Franco picked up Claudio’s heels and began dragging him away.
CHAPTER THREE
“So, tell me about this boy,” Dottor Vergenti said to Renzo, as they stood in the entrance hall of the madhouse. It was Monday morning, and evidently a child had been relinquished over the weekend, which would necessitate extra paperwork. Vergenti was administrator of the madhouse, addressed asdottorethough he wasn’t a medical doctor. He had gotten this job through his relatives in city government. He used to teach Latin, and while he did like Latin, he disliked children.
“He’s about five years old, maybe six. He’s incorrigible. I told you what he did. Hestabbedme!” Renzo held up a hand with bloodied gauze. “See for yourself!”
“Madonna!” Vergenti wrinkled his nose. “But how? You’re built like an ox. He can’t be very strong, at his age.”
