His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. “But your sister?” he asked. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. ” A spot of colour flared in Anna’s cheek as she glanced towards the speaker. “Well——” She stopped short. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Let him not bear the weight of my punishment. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person.
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