Following the rise and fall of Machiavelli

The medieval hamlet of Sant'Andrea in Percussina sits in the Tuscan hills amid rose-covered stone farmhouses and small country chapels surrounded by acres of silver-green olive groves.

Farmers drive Apes, the tiny three-wheeled farm vehicles favored by pensioners here, piled high with fruit and vegetables from their land, while the scent of grapes fermenting for local Chianti wine, one of the town's main productions, wafts from underground barrel-vaulted cantinas.

But despite having the feeling of being in a faraway enclave, from a bench in the corner of one of those village gardens, I can see the rooftops of Florence in the distance, even making out the familiar dome of the city's cathedral, glinting in the early summer sun.