Two days later, Leonardo studied the eyes of his manacled prisoner for evidence of treachery. To his relief, he was calm and obliged Leonardo with a lopsided smile. The guards secured a rope to the back of the chair. The prisoner’s left arm was positioned to rest atop a sturdy table, while in his right hand, the prisoner held a pouch of coins. Leonardo positioned him with the right side of his face and body turned in profile, so as to hide the scar that ran down the left-hand side of his neck. ‘What is your name?’ Leonardo asked.
‘You’re wasting your time,’ said the chief guard. ‘He refuses to talk. We call him the Butcher of Milan, but you can call him Judas if you like.’ The chief guard slapped the shoulder of his colleague as both chortled at his little joke. His eyebrows furrowed by c
