41The ink had dried. Manisante lifted up the paper to read the letter again. Satisfied, he decided to sign it: Antonio Marini, Apothecary.
He went to check Paolo. He knelt next to him while holding his nose to avoid smelling the terrible stench coming from the discharge of bowls the poison had provoked. The man had stopped breathing. Right brother! Now I will give you something to make you look even more like me.
After several attempts and a bit of effort, he managed to tug the ring from the middle finger of his left hand and spent a few moments contemplating the large ruby mounted in its very refined gold setting. It was the gift from his wife on their wedding day and it had belonged to who knows which one of her ancestors. He spat on it, in disdain, as he had seen Paolo do many times.
