Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood

by Oliver Bowden

  “Do you think that bitch Lucrezia will be back anytime soon?”

  “Shouldn’t think so.”

  “Then why don’t we take a look down the guardroom—see what’s keeping them?”

  “All right. Only take us a couple of minutes anyway.”

  Ezio watched as they disappeared around the curve of the wall, and then he was at the grille.

  “Ezio,” breathed Caterina. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Visiting my tailor—what do you think?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Ezio, do you think we have time forjokes?”

  “I’m going to get you out. Tonight.”

  “If you do, Cesare will hunt you down like a dog.”

  “I think he’s already trying to do that. But his men don’t seem all that fanatical, to judge by these two. Do you know if the guards have another key?”

  “I don’t think so. The guards handed theirs to Lucrezia. She paid me a visit.”

  “I know. I saw.”

  “Then why didn’t you do anything to stop her?”

  “I was outside the window.”

  “Outthere? Are you mad?”

  “Just athletic. Now—if Lucrezia has the only key we know of, I’d better go and get it. Do you know where she is?”

  Caterina considered. “I heard her mention that her quarters are at the very top of the Castel.”

  “Excellent. That key is as good as mine! Now—stay here until I get back!”

  Caterina gave him a look, and glanced at her chains, and at the cell door. “Why—where do you think Imight go?” she said with a dry smile.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  He was getting used to the contours of the outer walls of the Castel Sant’Angelo by now and found that, the higher he climbed, the easier it was to find hand- and footholds. Clinging like a limpet, his cape billowing slightly in the breeze, he soon found himself on a level with the highest parapet and silently hauled himself up onto it.

  The drop on the other side was slight—four feet to a narrow brick walkway, from which stairs led down, at occasional intervals, to a garden. A rooftop garden, in the center of which was a stone building, one story high, with a flat roof. It had broad windows, so the place was no extra fortification, and the light of many candles blazed within, disclosing opulent and tastefully decorated rooms.

  The walkway was deserted, but the garden was not. On a bench under the spreading bows of a button-wood tree, Lucrezia sat demurely, holding hands with a handsome young man whom Ezio recognized as one of Rome’s leading romantic actors—Pietro Benintendi. Cesare wouldn’t be too pleased if he knew about this! Ezio, a mere silhouette, crept along the walkway to a point as close to the couple as he dared, grateful for the moon, which had risen by now and provided not only light but also confusing, camouflaging pools of shade. He listened.

  “I love you so, I want to sing it to the heavens,” Pietro was saying ardently.

  Lucrezia shushed him. “Please! You must whisper it only to yourself. If Cesare found out, who knows what he would do.”

  “But you are free, are you not? Of course I heard about your late husband and I am very sorry, but—”

  “Quiet, you fool!” Lucrezia’s hazel eyes glittered. “Do you not know that Cesare had the Duke of Bisceglie murdered?—my husband was strangled.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true.”

  “What happened?”

  “I loved my husband. Cesare grew jealous. Alfonso was a handsome man, and Cesare was conscious of the changes the New Disease had made to his own face, though God knows they are slight. He had his men waylay Alfonso and beat him up. He thought that would act as a warning. But Alfonso was no puppet. He hit back; while he was still recovering from Cesare’s attack, he had his own men retaliate. Cesare was lucky to escape the fate of San Sebastiano! But then, cruel man!—he had Micheletto Corella go to his bedchamber, where he lay nursing his wounds, and strangle him there.”

  “It isn’t possible.” Pietro looked nervous.

  “I loved my husband. Now, I make-believe to Cesare, to allay his suspicions. But he is a snake—always alert, always venomous.” She looked into Pietro’s eyes. “Thank God I have you to console me. Cesare has always been jealous of where I place my attentions; but that should not deter us. Besides, he has gone to Urbino to continue his campaigning. There is nothing to hinder us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I will keep our secret—if you will,” said Lucrezia intensely. She disengaged one hand from his and moved it to his thigh.

  “Oh, Lucrezia!” sighed Pietro. “How your lips call to me!”

  They kissed, delicately at first, then more and more passionately. Then Ezio shifted his position slightly and inadvertently kicked a brick loose, which fell into the garden. He froze.

  Lucrezia and Pietro sprang apart.

  “What was that?” she said. “No one is allowed access to my garden or my apartments without my knowledge—no one!”

  Pietro was already on his feet, looking around fearfully. “I’d better go,” he said hastily. “Look—I have to prepare for my rehearsal—scan my lines for the morning. I must go!” He stooped to give Lucrezia a last kiss. “Farewell, my love!”

  “Stay, Pietro—I am sure it was nothing!”

  “No—it is late. I must go!”

  Putting on a melancholy expression, he slipped away across the garden and vanished through a door set into the wall on the far side.

  Lucrezia waited a moment, then stood and snapped her fingers. Out of the shelter of some tall shrubs growing nearby, one of her personal guardsmen emerged and bowed.

  “I heard the entire exchange,mia signora, and can vouch for it.”

  Lucrezia pursed her lips. “Good. Tell Cesare. We shall see how he feels when the boot is on the other foot.”

  “Yes,signora.”

  Bowing again, the guard withdrew.

  Left alone, Lucrezia picked a marguerite from a clump of the flowers that were growing nearby and started to pluck its petals off, one by one.

  “He loves me; he loves me not; he loves me; he loves me not…”

  Ezio slipped down the nearest staircase and made his way toward her. She had sat down again and looked up at his approach, but showed no fear and only slight surprise. Well, if she had any more guards concealed in the garden, Ezio would give them short shrift.

  “Please continue. I do not mean to interrupt,” Ezio said, bowing in his turn, though in his case the bow was not made without irony.

  “Well, well. Ezio Auditore da Firenze.” She gave him her hand to kiss. “How pleasant to meet you properly at last. I’ve heard so much about you, especially recently. That is, I imagine no one else can have been responsible for the little upsets we have been experiencing here in Rome?” She paused. “It’s a pity Cesare is no longer here. He would have enjoyed this.”

  “I have no quarrel with you personally, Lucrezia. Free Caterina and I will stand down.”

  Her voice hardened slightly. “I’m afraid that is impossible.”

  Ezio spread his hands. “Then you leave me no choice!” He closed in on her, but cautiously. She had long fingernails.

  “Guards!” she shrieked, turning in an instant from noblewoman to harpy, and slashing at his eyes as—just in time—he caught her wrists. Pulling a length of twine from his leather pouch he twisted her wrists behind her and tied them swiftly, before flinging her to the ground and placing one foot firmly on a fold of her dress so that she could not rise and run. Then he drew his sword and dagger and stood his ground, ready to face whatever guards came running from the direction of the apartments. Luckily for Ezio, they were lightly armed and heavily built and wore no chain mail. Though unable to change his position, for above all he could not afford to have Lucrezia cut and run—and already she was trying to bite his ankle through his boot—he ducked below the swinging blade of the first guard and hacked at the man’s exposed flank. One down. The second guard was more cautious but, conscio
us of the now-snarling Lucrezia on the floor, stepped forward to attack Ezio. He lunged at Ezio’s chest—Ezio parried upward, locking the guards of both blades, and simply swung his left hand, dagger pointing forward, at the man’s head. Two down. The final man, hoping to take advantage of the fact that both of Ezio’s blades were engaged, rushed forward. Ezio flicked his right arm hard—sending the blade of the second guard spiraling up toward the new foe. The final guard had to raise his sword to deflect the blow—but just too late and the flying blade nicked his biceps. He winced with pain but came forward again—sword swinging—at Ezio. Ezio had recovered his stance and deflected the attack with his dagger—freeing his sword hand to slash viciously at the man’s torso. It was over. The guards lay dead around him—and Lucrezia was silent for the first time. Breathing hard, Ezio pulled his captive to her feet.

  “Now come on,” he said. “And don’t scream. If you do, I will be forced to take your tongue.”

  He dragged her toward the door through which Pietro had left, found himself in a corridor, and half pushed, half dragged Lucrezia back down the tower, in the direction of the cells.

  “Rescuing princesses from castles now? How romantic!” Lucrezia spat out.

  “Shut up.”

  “I suppose you think you’re achieving great things, charging around, creating havoc, killing whomever you wish.”

  “I said, shut up.”

  “But does your plan have any form? What do you think you are going to achieve? Don’t you know how strong we are?”

  Ezio hesitated at a staircase leading down to the next floor. “Which way?” he asked her.

  She laughed, and didn’t reply.

  He shook her. “Whichway?”

  “To the left,” she replied sullenly.

  She was silent for a while, then started again. This time, Ezio let her ramble on. He was sure of where he was now. She squirmed in his grip, and he was concentrating on two things: to keep a firm hold of her and to be alert for any ambush by the Castel guards.

  “Do you know what became of the remains of the Pazzi family in Florence once you’d brought them to their knees? Your dear friend Lorenzo, the so-called Magnifico, stripped them of all their possessions and threw them into prison. All of them! Even those who’d played no part in the conspiracy against him.” Ezio’s mind turned unwillingly to the revenge Caterina had taken against a rebellion against her in Forlì. Her measures had far exceeded Lorenzo’s—indeed, made them look mild. He shook the thoughts away.

  “The women were forbidden to marry and the family tombstones were erased,” Lucrezia went on. “Wiped from the history books. Poof! Just like that!”

  But they were not tortured and killed, thought Ezio. Well, it was possible that Caterina had felt justified in her actions at the time. Still, her cruelty had cost her some of the loyalty she had always been able to depend on before, and perhaps that was why Cesare had finally been able to take Forlì.

  But she was still an important ally. That was what Ezio had to remember. That, and to suppress whatever feelings—real or imagined—he may have felt for her.

  “You and your Assassin friends ignore the consequences of your actions. You are content to set things in motion but you are never willing to see them through!” Lucrezia paused for breath, and Ezio gave her a savage yank forward. But that didn’t stop her. “Unlike you, Cesare will finish what he started, and bring peace to Italy. He kills for a higher purpose—again, unlike you!”

  “The ignorant and the passive make easy targets,” retorted Ezio.

  “Say what you like,” replied Lucrezia, seeing she had touched a nerve. “In any case, my words are wasted here, youipocrita!”

  They had all but reached the cells now. “Remember,” Ezio said, drawing his dagger, “if you try to warn your guards, your tongue—”

  Lucrezia breathed hard, but was silent. Watchfully, Ezio inched forward. The two new guards were seated at the table, playing cards. Throwing Lucrezia to the ground in front of him, he leapt on them and had dispatched them both before they had a moment to react. Then he spun around and charged after Lucrezia, who had got to her feet and begun to run back the way she had come, screaming for help. He caught up with her in two bounds, clapped a hand over her mouth, and pulled her to him with his other arm, swinging her around and pushing her back toward Caterina’s cell. She bit and tore at the gloved hand over her mouth with her teeth at first, then, seeing she was powerless, seemed to give up and went limp.

  Caterina was already at the grille, which Ezio unlatched.

  “Salute, Lucrezia,” said Caterina, smiling unpleasantly. “How I’ve missed you!”

  “Vai a farti fottere, troia—Go fuck yourself, you whore!”

  “Charming as always,” said Caterina. “Ezio! Bring her close. I’ll take the key.”

  She reached out as Ezio obeyed her order. He noticed that Caterina grazed Lucrezia’s breasts as she reached between them and extracted the key, which hung on a black silk cord.

  Caterina passed the key to Ezio, who quickly unlocked the door. The same key fitted the padlock securing the chains—Caterina had not, after all, been chained to the wall—and as Caterina divested herself of these, Ezio shoved Lucrezia into the cell.

  “Guards! Guards!” screamed Lucrezia.

  “Oh, shut up,” said Caterina, picking up a dirty rag from the guards’ table and using it to gag her enemy. Then Ezio took some more twine and bound Lucrezia’s ankles, before slamming the cell door and locking it securely.

  Ezio and Caterina looked at each other.

  “My hero,” she said drily.

  Ezio ignored that. “Can you walk?”

  Caterina tried, but stumbled. “I don’t think I can—the manacles they had on me must have done some damage.”

  Ezio sighed and lifted her into his arms. He’d have to drop her like a sack if they were surprised by guards and he needed to get to his weapons quickly.

  “Which way?” she asked.

  “Stables first. Then the quickest route out of here.”

  “Why save me, Ezio? Seriously. With Forlì taken, I am useless to you.”

  “You still have a family.”

  “It isn’t your family.”

  Ezio kept walking. He remembered where the stables should be in relation to where they were. It was fortunate that Caterina seemed to be the only prisoner in this section. There were no other guards about. Still, he trod softly and moved quickly, but not so fast as to lumber into a trap. Every so often he stopped and listened. She was light in his arms, and, despite imprisonment, her hair still smelled of vanilla and roses, reminding him of happier times they had had together.

  “Listen, Ezio—that night in Monteriggioni—when we…bathed together…I had to ensure your allegiance. To protect Forlì. It was in the Assassins’ interests as much as mine, but—” She broke off. “Do you understand, Ezio?”

  “If you had wanted my allegiance, all you had to do was ask for it.”

  “I needed you on my side.”

  “My loyalty and my sword arm on your side weren’t enough. You wanted to be sure of my heart as well.” Ezio walked on, shifting her weight in his arms. “But,è la politica. Of course. I knew it. You need not explain.”

  Within him, his heart felt as if it had fallen down a bottomless mineshaft. Howcould her hair still be scented?

  “Caterina,” he asked, his throat dry, “did they…? Did Cesare…?”

  She sensed, however dimly, what he felt, and smiled—with her lips, though, he noticed, not with her eyes. “Nothing happened. My name must still have some small value. I was left…unspoiled.”

  They had reached the main door of the stables. It was unguarded, but firmly closed. Ezio put Caterina down. “Try to walk a little. You must get the strength back in your ankles.”

  He looked around for a means of opening the door. It had no bolts or handles. But there had to be a way…

  “Try over there,” said Caterina. “Isn’t that a lever of some kind?” />
  “Wait here,” Ezio said.

  “As if I had a choice!”

  He made his way over to the lever, noticing as he went a square hole in the floor with an open trapdoor above it. To judge from the smell beneath, it must have been some sort of grain store. And, peering down, he could make out a large number of sacks. But boxes, too—boxes of what looked like gunpowder.

  “Hurry,” said Caterina.

  He took the lever in his hands and hauled on it. It was stiff at first, but under the strain of his muscles, it gave a little and then swung over easily. At the same time, the door swung open.

  But there were a couple of guards in the stables and they whirled around at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges and rushed toward it, drawing their swords.

  “Ezio!Aiuto!”

  He sped over to her, picked her up, and carried her toward the hole in the floor.

  “What are you doing?!”

  He held her over the hole.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He dropped her down, unable to resist a short snicker at her yell of panic. It wasn’t far, and he had time to see her land safely on the soft sacks before turning to face the guards. The fight was short and sharp, and the guards were heavy with fatigue and had been taken by surprise. Ezio’s skills with the blade were more than a match for them. However, one of them managed to get a glancing blow in, but it cut the material of Ezio’s doublet and didn’t reach the flesh. Ezio was tiring himself.

  When it was over, Ezio reached down and hauled Caterina out again.

  “Figlio di puttana,” she swore, dusting herself down. “Never do that to me again.”

  He noticed that she seemed to be walking at least a little better already.

  Quickly, he selected horses for them and soon had them saddled and ready. He helped her onto one and leapt into the saddle of the other himself. An archway led off one side of the stables and through it he could see the main gate of the Castel. It was guarded, but it was open. Dawn was approaching, and no doubt tradesmen from the city were expected, to make deliveries.

  “Ride like hell,” Ezio told her. “Before they have time to realize what’s going on. Across the bridge and then make for Tiber Island. You’ll be safe there. Find Machiavelli. He’ll be waiting for me.”