Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood

by Oliver Bowden

Inwardly, he shrugged. He acknowledged once again that the true source of his anger was his own anxiety about his ability to protect those whom he held most dear. He needed them, he knew, but he was aware that his fear for their safety threatened to cramp his style.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Ezio’s long-awaited reunion with Machiavelli finally took place on Tiber Island, soon after the encounter at the brothel. Ezio was reserved at first—he didn’t like any of the Brotherhood disappearing without his knowledge of where they’d gone, but he recognized in his heart that, for Machiavelli, he must make an exception. And indeed, the Brotherhood itself was an association of free-minded, free-spirited souls acting together not from coercion or obedience, but from a common concern and interest. He didn’t own, or have any right to control, any of them.

  Serious and determined, he shook hands with his old colleague—Machiavelli shunned the warmth of an embrace. “We must talk,” he said.

  “We certainly must.” Machiavelli looked at him. “I gather you know about my little arrangement with Pantasilea?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That woman has more sense of tactics in her little finger than her husband has in his whole body—not that he isn’t the best man possible in his own field.” He paused. “I’ve been able to secure something of great worth from one of my contacts. We now have the names of nine key Templar agents whom Cesare has recruited to terrorize Rome.”

  “Just tell me how I may find them.”

  Machiavelli considered. “I suggest looking for signs of distress within any given city district. Visit the people there. Perhaps you’ll uncover citizens who can point you in the right direction.”

  “Did you get this information from a Borgia official?”

  “Yes,” said Machiavelli carefully, after a pause. “How do you know?”

  Ezio, thinking of the encounter he had witnessed with La Volpe in the market square, wondered if that might not have been the initial contact. Machiavelli must have been following it up ever since.

  “Lucky guess,” he said.“Grazie.”

  “Look—Claudia, Bartolomeo, and La Volpe are waiting for you in the inner room here.” He paused. “Thatwas a lucky guess.”

  “Virtù, dear Niccolò, that’s all,” said Ezio, leading the way.

  “Virtue?” said Machiavelli to himself, as he followed.

  His companions in the Brotherhood stood as he entered the hideout’s inner sanctum. Their faces were somber.

  “Buona sera,” Ezio said and got straight down to business. “What have you discovered?”

  Bartolomeo spoke first. “We’ve ascertained that thatbastardo Cesare is now at the Castel Sant’Angelo—with the Pope!”

  La Volpe added, “And my spies have confirmed that the Apple has indeed been given to someone for secret study. I am working on determining his identity.”

  “We can’t guess it?”

  “Guesswork’s no good. We need to knowfor sure.”

  “I have news of Caterina Sforza,” Claudia put in. “She will be moved to the prison within the Castel next week, on Thursday toward dusk.”

  Ezio’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat at this. But it was all good news.

  “Bene,” said Machiavelli. “So—the Castel it is. Rome will heal quickly once Cesare and Rodrigo have gone.”

  Ezio held up a hand. “Only if the right opportunity to assassinate them arises will I take it.”

  Machiavelli looked irritated. “Do not repeat your mistake in the Vault. You must kill them now.”

  “I’m with Niccolò,” said Bartolomeo. “We shouldn’t wait.”

  “Bartolomeo is right,” agreed La Volpe.

  “They must pay for Mario’s death,” said Claudia.

  Ezio calmed them, saying, “Do not worry, my friends: they will die. You have my word.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  On the day appointed for Caterina’s transfer to Castel Sant’Angelo, Ezio and Machiavelli joined the crowd that had gathered in front of a fine carriage, its windows closed with blinds, whose doors bore the Borgia crest. Guards surrounding the carriage kept the people back, and it was no wonder, because the mood of the people was not unanimously enthusiastic. One of the coachmen leapt down from his box and hastened around to open the nearside carriage door, pulled down the steps, and stood ready to assist the occupants down.

  After a moment, the first figure emerged, in a dark blue gown with a white bodice. Ezio recognized the beautiful blonde with the cruel lips. He had last seen her at the sack of Monteriggioni, but it was a face he could never forget. Lucrezia Borgia. She stepped down to the ground, all dignity, but this was lost as she reached back into the carriage, seized hold of something—or someone—and pulled hard.

  She dragged Caterina Sforza out by her hair and flung her to the ground in front of her. Bedraggled and in chains, wearing a coarse brown dress, Caterina in defeat still had greater presence and spirit than her captor would ever know. Machiavelli had to put a restraining hand on Ezio’s arm as he automatically started forward. Ezio had seen enough loved ones maltreated; but this was the time for restraint. A rescue now would be doomed to failure.

  Lucrezia, one foot on her prostrate victim, started to speak: “Salve, cittadini de Roma! Hail, citizens of Rome! Behold a sight most splendid. Caterina Sforza, the she-whore of Forlì! Too long has she defied us! Now she has, at last, been brought to heel!”

  There was little reaction from the crowd at this, and in the silence Caterina raised her head and cried: “Ha! No one stoops as low as Lucrezia Borgia! Who put you up to this? Was it your brother? Or your father? Perhaps a bit of both? Perhaps at the same time, eh? After all, you all pen in the same sty!”

  “Chiudi la bocca! Shut your mouth!” screamed Lucrezia, kicking her. “No one speaks ill of the Borgia!” She bent down, dragging Caterina up to her knees, and slapped her hard, so that she fell into the mud again. She raised her head proudly. “The same will happen to any— any—who dare to defy us!”

  She motioned to the guards, who seized the hapless Caterina, dragged her to her feet, and manhandled her in the direction of the Castel gates. Still, Caterina managed to cry out: “Good people of Rome! Stay strong! Your time will come! You will be free of this yoke, I swear it!”

  As she disappeared, and Lucrezia got back into her carriage to follow, Machiavelli turned to Ezio. “Well, thecontessa hasn’t lost any of her spirit.”

  Ezio felt drained. “They are going to torture her.”

  “It is unfortunate that Forlì has fallen. But we will get it back. We will get Caterina back, too. But we must concentrate. You are here, now, for Cesare and Rodrigo.”

  “Caterina is a powerful ally, one of us, indeed. If we help her now, while she is weak, she will aid us in return.”

  “Perhaps. But kill Cesare and Rodrigo first.”

  The crowd was beginning to disperse, and, apart from the sentries at the gate, the Borgia guards withdrew into the Castel. Soon only Machiavelli and Ezio were left, standing in the shadows.

  “Leave me, Niccolò,” said Ezio as the shadows lengthened. “I have work to do.”

  He looked up at the sheer walls of the ancient, circular structure, the mausoleum of the emperor Hadrian over a thousand years earlier, now an unassailable fortress. Its few windows were high up, and its walls sheer. Connected to Saint Peter’s Basilica by a fortified stone corridor, it had been the great stronghold of the popes for nearly two hundred years.

  Ezio studied the walls. Nothing was completely impregnable. By the light of the torches flickering in their sconces, as night fell, his eyes began to trace the slight ridges, fissures, and imperfections that, however small, would enable him to climb. Once he’d planned his route, he leapt like a cat up to the first hand-and footholds, digging fingers and toes in, steadying his breath, and then, deliberately, unhurriedly, started to scale the wall, keeping wherever possible away from the light cast by the torches.

  Halfway up, he came to an opening—an unglazed window in a stone
frame—beneath which, on the inner side of the wall, was a walkway for guardsmen. He looked each way along it, but it was deserted. Silently, he swung himself over and looked down, on the other side of the walkway, over a railing into what he quickly saw was the stable yard. Four men were walking there, and he recognized every one of them. Cesare was holding some kind of conference with three of his chief lieutenants: the French general Octavien de Valois; Cesare’s close associate Juan de Borgia Lanzol de Romaní and a lean man in black—a lean man with a cruel, scarred face: Micheletto Corella—Cesare’s right-hand man and most trusted killer.

  “Forget the Pope,” Cesare was saying. “You answer only to me. Rome is the pillar that holds our entire enterprise aloft. She cannot waver. Which means—neither can you!”

  “What of the Vatican?” asked Octavien.

  “What? That tired old men’s club?” answered Cesare contemptuously. “Play along with the cardinals for now, but soon we shall have no more need of them.”

  With that, he went through a door leading from the stable yard, leaving the other three alone.

  “Well, it looks as if he’s left Rome for us to manage,” said Juan after a pause.

  “Then the city will be in good hands,” said Micheletto evenly.

  Ezio listened for a while longer but nothing more was said that he reckoned useful—nothing that he didn’t already know—so he continued his climb around the outer wall, in his quest to locate Caterina’s whereabouts. He saw light coming from another window, glazed this time, but open to the night air, and with an outer sill on which he could partially support himself. Doing so, he looked cautiously through the window into a candlelit corridor with plain wooden walls. Lucrezia was there, sitting on an upholstered bench, writing in a notebook; but every so often she looked up, as if she were expecting someone.

  A few minutes later, Cesare came through a door at the far end of the corridor and made his way hurriedly toward his sister.

  “Lucrezia,” he said and kissed her. It was no fraternal kiss.

  Once they had greeted one another, he took her hands from around his neck and, still holding them and looking into her eyes, said, “I hope you are treating our guest with kindness.”

  Lucrezia grimaced. “That mouth on her!…How I’d love to sew it shut.”

  Cesare smiled. “I rather like it open, myself.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Ignoring her archness, he continued: “Have you talked to our father about the funds requested by my banker?”

  “The Pope is at the Vatican just now, but he might need some convincing when he returns. As will his own banker. And you know how cautious Agostino Chigi is.”

  Cesare laughed briefly. “Well, he certainly didn’t get rich by being rash.” He paused. “But—that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

  Lucrezia wound her arms around her brother’s neck again, nuzzling against him. “No—but…it gets quite lonely sometimes without you here. You and I spend so little time together these days, busy as you are with yourother conquests.”

  Cesare held her to him. “Don’t worry, kitten. Soon, once I have secured the throne of Italy, you are going to be my queen; and your loneliness will be a thing of the past!”

  She withdrew a little and looked him in the eye. “I cannot wait.”

  He ran his hand through her fine blond hair. “Behave yourself while I am gone.”

  Then, after another lingering kiss, Cesare left his sister by the door through which he’d entered. She herself, downcast, took the opposite direction.

  Where was Cesare going? Was he leaving immediately? From that leave-taking, it looked likely. Quickly, Ezio maneuvered himself around the circumference of the wall until he could take up a position that overlooked the Castel’s main gate.

  And not before time. As he watched, it was being thrown open, amid cries from the guards of “Attention! The captain-general is leaving for Urbino!” And shortly afterward, on a black horse, Cesare rode forth, accompanied by a small entourage.

  “Buona fortuna, Padron Cesare!” cried one of the officers of the watch.

  Ezio watched his archenemy ride off into the night.That was a flying visit, he thought to himself. And no chance to kill him at all. Niccolò will be very disappointed.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Ezio turned his attention back to the task at hand. To find Caterina. High up on the western side of the Castel he noticed a small window, set deep in the wall, from which a faint light came. He made his way to it. When he reached it, he saw that there was no sill on which he could rest, but instead there was a narrow transom projecting above the window, which he could cling to securely with one hand.

  He looked into the room. It was empty, though a torch burned on one wall. It looked like a guardroom, though, so Ezio hoped he was on the right track.

  Farther along on the same level there was another, similar window. Ezio made his way to it and peered through the bars, though there seemed no reason for bars. No one slim enough to escape through this window would be able to climb down a good 150 feet to the ground, and then make it across the open ground to the river and possible safety. The light was dimmer here, but Ezio could see immediately that it was a cell.

  Then he drew in his breath sharply. There, still in chains, was Caterina! She sat on a rough bench against one wall, but Ezio could not see if she was also chained to it. Her head was down, and Ezio did not know if she was awake or asleep.

  Whatever the case, she raised her head at a thunderous hammering on the door.

  “Open up!” Ezio heard Lucrezia cry.

  One of the two guards outside the door, who had both been dozing, hastened to obey. “Yes,Altezza! At once, Altezza.”

  Once inside the cell, and followed by one of the guards, Lucrezia wasted no time at all. From the conversation Ezio had already heard, he could guess the reason for her fury: jealousy. Lucrezia believed that Caterina and Cesare had become lovers. He could not believe that to be true. The thought of Caterina being defiled by such a monster of depravity was something his mind refused to accept.

  Lucrezia rushed across the cell and pulled Caterina to her feet by her hair, bringing her face close to her prisoner’s. “You bitch! How was your journey from Forlì to Rome? Did you ride in Cesare’s private carriage? What did you get up to?”

  Caterina looked her in the eye. “You’re pathetic, Lucrezia. Even more pathetic if you think I’d live by the same standards as you.”

  Enraged, Lucrezia threw her to the floor. “What did he talk about? His plans for Naples?” She paused. “Did you…enjoy it?”

  Wiping blood from her face, Caterina said: “I really can’t remember.”

  Her quiet insolence drove Lucrezia into a blind fury. Pushing the guard aside, she seized an iron bar used for slatting across the door and brought it down heavily across Caterina’s back. “Perhaps you will rememberthis!”

  Now, Caterina screamed in intense pain. Lucrezia stood back, satisfied.

  “Good. That’s put you in your place at last!”

  She threw the iron rod onto the floor and strode out of the cell. The guard followed her and the door slammed shut. Ezio noticed that there was a grille set into it.

  “Lock it, and give me the key,” ordered Lucrezia from the outside.

  There was a rattle and a rusty creak as the key turned, then a chain clattered as the key was handed over.

  “Here it is,Altezza.” The man’s voice was trembling.

  “Good. Now, if I come back and catch you asleep at your post, I’ll have you flogged. One hundred lashes. Understood?”

  “Yes,Altezza.”

  Ezio listened to Lucrezia’s footsteps as they grew fainter. He considered. The best way to reach the cell would be from above.

  He climbed up until he came to another opening, giving on to a guard’s walkway. This time, sentries were on duty, but it seemed that there were only two, patrolling together. He calculated it must take them five minutes to complete the circuit, so he waited u
ntil they had passed and then swung himself inside once again.

  Crouching low, Ezio followed the guards at a distance until he came to a doorway in the wall from which a stone stairway led downward. He knew that he’d climbed into the Castel two floors above where Caterina’s cell was located, and so, two flights down, he left the stairway and found himself in a corridor similar to the one in which he’d seen the encounter between Cesare and Lucrezia, only this time it was clad in stone, not wood. He doubled back in the direction of Caterina’s cell, encountering no one, though passing a number of heavy doors, each with a grille, which suggested cells. As the wall curved following the line of the Castel, he heard voices ahead and recognized the Piedmontese accent of the guard who’d been talking to Lucrezia.

  “This is no place for me,” he was grumbling. “Did you hear the way she spoke to me? I wish I was back in fucking Torino.”

  Ezio edged forward. The guards were facing the door, as Caterina had appeared at the grille. She spotted Ezio behind them as he withdrew into the shadows.

  “Oh, my poor back,” she said to the guards. “Can you give me some water?”

  There was a jug of water on the table near the door, where the two guards had been sitting earlier. One of them picked it up and brought it close to the grille.

  “Anything else you require, Princess?” he asked sarcastically.

  The guard from Turin sniggered.

  “Come on, have a heart,” said Caterina. “If you open the door, I might show you something worth your while.”

  The guards immediately became more formal. “No need for that,Contessa. We have our orders. Here.”

  The guard with the water jug unlatched the grille and passed the jug to Caterina through it. Then he closed the grille again.

  “About time we were relieved, isn’t it?” said the Piedmontese guard.

  “Yes, Luigi and Stefano should have been here by now.”

  They looked at each other.