the bit between his teeth and braced his hands upon Luigi’s arm.

The lead guard now set his hand on the bolt and eyed Cosimo. “I’ll pull on three,” he explained, suggesting to all present that this was not the first time he’d dealt with an arrow sticking from someone’s flesh. “Uno, due …” The lead guard pulled on two.

“Ay!” Cosimo reeled and his jaw clamped down on the leather bit.

“Mi scusi,” said the lead guard as he held the bloody arrow.

Cosimo nodded approvingly, knowing his man had done the procedure exactly right. The lead guard then took out a small vial of honey, scooped some onto his finger and pressed it into Cosimo’s wound. Next, he undid the burgundy sash from around his own waist and tied a figure-eight knot, weaving it around Cosimo’s hips, waist and thighs, effectively securing and compressing the wound. All told, the operation took hardly a minute and thoroughly impressed the village folk.

Luigi and the lead guard now helped the duke to his feet. “Cosimo di Pucci de’ Meducci the Third,” the lead guard announced, “Grand Duke of Tuscany!” And then he rapped his sword three times upon the cobblestones and all the members of the Guard dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

Mari looked to Davido, Mucca looked to the Cheese Maker, Augusto Po looked to Vincenzo. It was true! The odd vagrant in their midst was who he claimed to be. Accordingly, every villager in the piazza followed the guards’ lead, lowering themselves onto one knee and bowing their heads.

“Raise your heads,” commanded Cosimo, acting decidedly more like a king than a farmer. “Guards,” he gestured to where Giuseppe lay, “take this man. Bind him and toss him in the dankest, darkest and most dismal prison in all of Tuscany. There he shall stay, and there he shall have a special sentence. These fruits of red that lie about him, they are called tomatoes, and they are all he shall be fed. And when it is winter,” the duke looked to Davido and paused for a moment, unsure of what to say next, “he will eat dried tomatoes—tomatoes dried by the sun.”

Now, there’s an idea, mused Davido and the Good Padre at the very same instant: sun-dried tomatoes.

“He will have only water and tomatoes for the remainder of his days. And so it is.” The duke flicked his wrist in the direction of Giuseppe, indicating that he was through addressing that subject.

The lead guard pointed to a pair of junior guards, and then pointed to the criminal in question. The junior guards sprung to their feet, dragged Giuseppe from the food mess and began to bind him up.

“Now,” continued Cosimo, loud enough for all to hear, “the olive mill, the vineyards, the orchards that were wrongfully his, I return rightfully to Mari. And as for you two,” Cosimo proclaimed while limping over to Mari and Davido and gesturing for them to rise, “I do not care much for religion, but I care a great deal about love. And your love will be protected as long as I am duke. But we Meduccis are not known for our longevity, so I would suggest that you choose one religion. Which one, I do not care. But be of that, marry in that and live in that. And know that a life lived for love is a life lived in God.” Cosimo leaned in and lowered his voice for only Davido and Mari to hear: “I will keep an eye on you both and may your sister in heaven keep an eye on us all.”

Cosimo then smiled as he stepped away from the couple and, with the aid of his chef, hobbled toward the battalion. The pair of guards who had bound Giuseppe now heaved him up onto a horse’s back and secured him there with rope. Subsequently, the lead guard and two others lifted Cosimo onto the back of his exquisitely muscled horse. All the Meducci guards followed suit and mounted up, some of them, including Luigi, mounting up two per saddle. Davido caught the eye of the lead guard as he settled into his saddle behind the duke. A glimmer of recognition crinkled the old warrior’s brow, followed by the slightest of smirks.

From atop his horse, Cosimo gazed down upon the gathering of villagers who, for the last three weeks, had been his peers—his salvation. “Good-bye, my friends,” he said with a raise of his hand, “you have been so very good and