Genoa, Italy 1420

The boy stared in fascination at the small round object the merchant pressed into his hand. His index finger traced the scaly green outline of the snake encircling the clay disc. As the ship pulled away from the docks of Genoa, its sails billowing as it set off towards the shores of France, the wind lifted the boy’s hair, and the sea dusted his face with salty spray.

‘You see this?’ the merchant said, raising his voice to battle the wind, but not so much that the ship’s crew might hear. This is our family heirloom. When I was your age, my father bid me keep it safe, to pass down to my first-born son, as his father, and his father’s father, and his father before him. It has served as God’s protection for many generations of Angelieri, and it is now my time to pass it to you. You are old enough, figlio mio.’

The boy seemed distracted. The man grabbed him by the chin and turned his face roughly towards him.

‘Pay attention, boy!’ demanded the merchant, his voice rasping with urgency. You may think it a frivolous piece of pottery, but there is power in that disc. It is an heirloom, yes. But it is more than that. It is a holy relic. It is the protection of San Michele, the archangel himself. He has spoken to our ancestors through that disc, and you would do well to heed it. I will tell you now, what my father told me. What you, in turn, will tell your first-born son when it is time. Listen closely, for these are the words spoken to my great-great-great-great grandfather, Guidaloste Angelieri, when he first received this amulet from his grandfather, its creator.’

The boy’s stunned face stared up into that of his father with a mix of fear and incredulity. The fingers of his left hand curled over the small snake disc. His wide eyes did not stray from the older man’s face as he nodded almost imperceptibly. The merchant reached forward and affectionately pushed the hair away from the boy’s face. Then, taking the child’s hands in his own, and with his eyes half closed as if trying to remember a script, he recited these words to his son.

This object I give you is too precious to abandon; dangerous even, if it ever got into the wrong hands. I, Fernando Angelieri, trust you, Alberto Angelieri, to now take care of my wouivre. But you must look after her; she has powers you will never understand!