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"Make it quick, will you?" Cesare's words rustled through the evening like a small snake through leaves.
Miguel rolled his eyes and flipped him an obscene gesture; no need for decorum between them, least of all deference. "I don't derive any pleasure from this, unlike certain other people. Who insist on watching from the riverbank. What's the poor sod done, anyway?"
Flicking sweat-soaked curls from his forehead, Cesare looked off into dusk, not keen on meeting Miguel's eyes over this one. "He's a liability, that's all. You know his affinities these days lie... elsewhere."
"Cesare." Miguel hedged visibly. "It's not anybody. It's Cesc we're talking about. Francesco Troche. A fucking blood brother."
"Which is why I'm asking you to make it quick." He sounded weary and irritated even to himself. The summer was unbearably hot already; fevers were raging in the city and he ached to be gone from Rome, to ride north and see Lucrezia, see if he could mend things with Louis, some sort of accord for as long as he needed to take Napoli- "Oh, and." About to retreat into the shadows near the moorings, Cesare wheeled around. "I want Jacopo di Santa Croce's body on the bridge come morning, in time for market traffic."
"My Lord." Miguel drawled in mock-courtesy, then hawked and spat.
Miguel rolled his eyes and flipped him an obscene gesture; no need for decorum between them, least of all deference. "I don't derive any pleasure from this, unlike certain other people. Who insist on watching from the riverbank. What's the poor sod done, anyway?"
Flicking sweat-soaked curls from his forehead, Cesare looked off into dusk, not keen on meeting Miguel's eyes over this one. "He's a liability, that's all. You know his affinities these days lie... elsewhere."
"Cesare." Miguel hedged visibly. "It's not anybody. It's Cesc we're talking about. Francesco Troche. A fucking blood brother."
"Which is why I'm asking you to make it quick." He sounded weary and irritated even to himself. The summer was unbearably hot already; fevers were raging in the city and he ached to be gone from Rome, to ride north and see Lucrezia, see if he could mend things with Louis, some sort of accord for as long as he needed to take Napoli- "Oh, and." About to retreat into the shadows near the moorings, Cesare wheeled around. "I want Jacopo di Santa Croce's body on the bridge come morning, in time for market traffic."
"My Lord." Miguel drawled in mock-courtesy, then hawked and spat.