Assassin’s Creed®

by Oliver Bowden

  Ezio dismounted and ran round to the western walls, keeping low and taking cover behind hillocks and bushes. Meanwhile Caterina stood up in her stirrups and bawled at the enemy within the city walls: ‘Hey, you! I’m talking to you, you spineless dogs. You occupy my city? My home? And you really think I’m going to do nothing about it? Why, I’m coming up there to rip off your coglioni – if you’ve got any, that is!’

  Groups of soldiers had appeared on the ramparts now, looking across at Caterina, half-amused, half-intimidated as she kept it up: ‘What kind of men are you? Doing the bidding of your paymasters for handfuls of loose change! I wonder if you’ll think it was worth it after I’ve come up there, cut your heads off, pissed down your necks and shoved your faces up my figa! I’ll stick your balls on a fork and roast them over my kitchen fire! How does that sound?’

  By now there were no men on watch along the western ramparts. Ezio found the canal unguarded, and, swimming down it, he located the overgrown entrance of the tunnel. Slipping out of the water, he plunged into the tunnel’s black depths.

  It was well maintained inside, and dry, and all he had to do was follow it until he saw light at its other end. He approached it cautiously, and as he did so Caterina’s voice came to him again. The tunnel ended in a short flight of stone steps which led up into a back room on the ground floor of one of the western towers of Forlì. It was deserted, Caterina had collected quite a crowd. Through a window he could see most of the Orsi troops’ backs, as they watched, and even occasionally applauded, Caterina’s performance.

  ‘… if I were a man I’d wipe those grins off your faces! But don’t think I won’t give it my best shot anyway. Don’t be misled by the fact that I’ve got tits –’ A thought struck her. ‘I bet you’d like to see them, wouldn’t you? I bet you wish you could touch them, lick them, give ’em a squeeze! Well, why don’t you come down here and try? I’d kick your balls so hard they’d fly out through your nostrils! Luridi branco di cani bastardi! You’d better pack up and go home while you still can – if you don’t want to be impaled and stuck up all along my citadel walls! Ah! But maybe I’m wrong! Maybe you’d actually enjoy having a long oaken pole up your arses! You disgust me – I even begin to wonder if you’re worth the bother. I’ve never seen such a piss-poor shower of shite. Che vista penosa! I can’t see that it’d make much difference to you as men even if I had you castrated.’

  By now Ezio was in the street. He could see the gate closest to where Caterina and Machiavelli were located. At the top of its arch a bowman stood by the heavy lever which operated it. Moving as silently and as quickly as he could, he shinned up to the top of the arch and stabbed the soldier once in the neck, dispatching him instantly. Then he threw all his weight on to the lever, and the gates below swung open with a mighty groan.

  Machiavelli had been watching carefully all this time, and as soon as he saw the gates opening, he leant over and spoke softly to Caterina, who immediately spurred her horse forward at a frantic gallop, closely followed by Machiavelli and the rest of her entourage. As soon as they saw what was happening, the Orsi troops on the ramparts let out a yell of anger and started to swarm down to intercept, but the Sforza faction was too quick for them. Ezio seized the bow and arrows from the dead guard and used them to fell three Orsi men before he swiftly climbed a nearby wall and started to run over the city’s rooftops, keeping pace with Caterina and her group as they rode through the narrow streets towards the citadel.

  The deeper they went into the city, the greater was the confusion that reigned. It was clear that the battle for control of Forlì was far from over, as knots of soldiers under the banner of the blue snakes and black eagles of the Sforza fought the Orsi mercenaries, as ordinary citizens rushed for shelter in their houses or simply ran aimlessly hither and yon in the confusion. Market-stalls were overturned, chickens ran squawking underfoot, a small child sat in the mud and bawled for its mother, who ran out and snatched it to safety; and all around the noise of battle roared. Ezio, leaping from roof to roof, could see something of the lie of the land from his vantage-point, and used his arrows with deadly accuracy to protect Caterina and Machiavelli whenever Orsi guards got too close to them.

  At last, they arrived in a broad piazza in front of the citadel. It was empty, and the streets leading off it appeared deserted. Ezio descended and rejoined his people. There was nobody on the citadel’s battlements, and its massive gate was firmly closed. It looked every bit as impregnable as Caterina had said it was.

  She looked up, and cried: ‘Open up, you bloody parcel of fools! It’s me! La Duchessa! Get your arses in gear!’

  Now some of her men in the citadel did appear above them, among them a captain who said, ‘Subito, Altezza!’ and issued orders to three men who disappeared immediately to open the gate. But at that instant, howling for blood, dozens of Orsi troops poured from the surrounding streets into the square, blocking any retreat and pinning Caterina’s company between them and the unforgiving wall of the citadel.

  ‘Bloody ambush!’ shouted Machiavelli, with Ezio rallying their own handful of men, and keeping between Caterina and their enemies.

  ‘Aprite la porta! Aprite!’ yelled Caterina. And at last the mighty gates swung open. Sforza guards rushed out to aid them, and, slashing at the Orsi in vicious hand-to-hand fighting, beat a retreat back through the gates, which quickly slammed shut behind them. Ezio and Machiavelli (who had quickly dismounted) both leaned against the wall, side by side and breathing hard. They could scarcely believe that they had made it. Caterina dismounted too, but didn’t rest for an instant. Instead she ran across the inner courtyard to a doorway in which two little boys and a wet-nurse holding a baby were waiting fearfully.

  The children ran to her and she embraced them, greeting them by name, ‘Cesare, Giovanni – no preoccuparvi.’ She stroked the baby’s head, cooing, ‘Salute, Galeazzo.’ Then she looked around, and at the wet-nurse.

  ‘Nezetta! Where are Bianca and Ottaviano?’

  ‘Forgive me, my lady. They were playing outside when the attack began and we haven’t been able to find them since.’

  Caterina, looking frightened, was about to reply when suddenly a huge roar went up from the Orsi troops outside the citadel. The Sforza captain came rushing up to Ezio and Machiavelli. ‘They’re bringing in reinforcements from the mountains,’ he reported. ‘I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold out.’ He turned to a lieutenant. ‘To the battlements! Man the cannon!’

  The lieutenant rushed off to organize gun-crews, and these were hurrying to their positions when a hail of arrows fired by Orsi archers started to descend on the inner courtyard and the ramparts above. Caterina hustled her younger children to safety, shouting to Ezio at the same time, ‘Look after the cannon! They’re our only hope! Don’t let those bastards breach the citadel!’

  ‘Come!’ shouted Machiavelli. Ezio followed him up to where the cannon were ranged.

  Several of the gun-crews were dead, along with the captain and the lieutenant. Others were wounded. The survivors were struggling to trim and angle the heavy cannon to bring them to bear on the Orsi men in the square below. Huge numbers of reinforcements had come up, and Ezio could see that they were manhandling siege-engines and catapults through the streets. Meanwhile, directly below, a contingent of Orsi troops were bringing up a battering-ram. If he and Machiavelli didn’t think of something quickly there would be no chance of saving the citadel, but to withstand this new assault he would have to fire the cannon at targets within the walls of Forlì itself, and so risk injuring or even killing some of its innocent citizens. Leaving Machiavelli to organize the gunners, he raced down to the courtyard and sought out Caterina.

  ‘They are storming the city. To keep them at bay I must fire the cannon at targets within its walls.’

  She looked at him with steely calm. ‘Then do what you must do.’

  He looked up to the ramparts where Machiavelli stood, waiting for the signal. Ezio raised his arm, and lowered it d
ecisively.

  The cannon roared, and even as they did so Ezio was flying back up to the ramparts where they were located. Directing the gunners to fire at will, he watched as first one siege-engine and then another was blown to bits, as well as the catapults. There was little room for the Orsi troops to manoeuvre in the narrow streets and after the cannon had wreaked their havoc, Sforza archers and crossbowmen began to pick off the surviving invaders within the city walls. At last, the remaining Orsi troops had been driven out of Forlì altogether, and those Sforza troops who had survived outside the citadel itself were able to secure the outer curtain walls. But the victory had come at a cost. Several houses within the city were smouldering ruins, and in order to win it back, Caterina’s gunners had not been able to avoid killing some of their own people. And there was something else to consider, as Machiavelli was quick to point out. They had flushed the enemy out of the city, but they had not raised the siege. Forlì was still surrounded by Orsi battalions, cut off from supplies of fresh food and water; and Caterina’s two older children were still out there somewhere, at risk.

  Some little time later, Caterina, Machiavelli and Ezio were standing on the ramparts of the outer walls surveying the host encamped around them. Behind them, the citizens of Forlì were doing their best to put the city back in order, but food and water wouldn’t last for ever and everyone knew it. Caterina was haggard, worried to death about her missing children – Bianca, the older, was nine, and Ottaviano a year younger.

  They had yet to encounter the Orsi brothers themselves, but that very day a herald appeared at the centre of the enemy army and blew a clarion call. The troops parted like the sea to allow two men riding chestnut horses and dressed in chain-steel hauberks to pass between them, accompanied by pages bearing the crest of the bear-and-bush. They reined in well out of arrow range.

  One of the horsemen stood up in his stirrups and raised his voice. ‘Caterina! Caterina Sforza! We think you are still cooped up in your dear little city, Caterina – so answer me!’

  Caterina leant over the battlements, a wild expression on her face. ‘What do you want?’

  The man grinned broadly. ‘Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you were missing… any children!’

  Ezio had taken up a position at Caterina’s side. The man who was speaking looked up at him in surprise. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Ezio Auditore, if I am not mistaken. How pleasant to meet you. One has heard so much about you.’

  ‘And you, I take it, are the fratelli Orsi,’ Ezio said.

  The one who had not yet spoken raised a hand. ‘The same. Lodovico –’

  ‘– and Checco,’ said the other. ‘At your service!’ He gave a dry laugh.

  ‘Basta!’ cried Caterina. ‘Enough of this! Where are my children? Let them go!’

  Lodovico bowed ironically in the saddle. ‘Ma certo, Signora. We’ll happily give them back. In exchange for something of yours. Something, rather, that belonged to your late lamented husband. Something he was working on, on behalf of… some friends of ours.’ His voice suddenly hardened. ‘I mean a certain Map!’

  ‘And a certain Apple, too,’ added Checco. ‘Oh yes, we know all about that. Do you think we are fools? Do you think our employer doesn’t have spies?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lodovico. ‘We’ll have the Apple too. Or shall I slice your little ones’ throats from ear to ear and send them to join their pappa?’

  Caterina stood listening. Her mood had changed to one of icy calm. When her turn came to speak, she cried, ‘Bastardi! You think you can intimidate me with your vulgar threats? You scum! I’ll give you nothing! You want my children? Take them! I have the means to make more!’ And she raised her skirts to show them her vagina.

  ‘I’m not interested in your histrionics, Caterina,’ said Checco, wheeling his horse around. ‘And I’m not interested in staring at your figa either. You’ll change your mind, but we’re only giving you an hour. Your brats will be safe enough until then in that slummy little village of yours just down the road. And don’t forget – we will kill them and then we will come back and smash your city and take what we want by force – so you just take advantage of our generosity and we can all save ourselves a lot of bother.’

  And the brothers rode off. Caterina collapsed against the rough wall of the rampart, breathing heavily through her mouth, in shock at what she’d just said and done.

  Ezio was by her side. ‘You’re not going to sacrifice your children, Caterina. No Cause could ever be worth that.’

  ‘To save the world?’ She looked at him, lips parted, pale blue eyes wide under her mane of red hair.

  ‘We cannot become people like them,’ said Ezio simply. ‘There are some compromises which cannot be made.’

  ‘Oh, Ezio! That is what I expected you to say!’ She flung her arms round his neck. ‘Of course we can’t sacrifice them, my darling!’ She stood back. ‘But I cannot ask you to take the risk of getting them back for me.’

  ‘Try me,’ said Ezio. He turned to Machiavelli. ‘I won’t be gone long – I hope. But whatever happens to me, I know you will guard the Apple with your life. And Caterina –’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you know where Girolamo hid the Map?’

  ‘I’ll find it.’

  ‘Do so, and protect it.’

  ‘And what will you do about the Orsi?’ asked Machiavelli.

  ‘They are already added to my list,’ said Ezio. ‘They belong to the company of men who killed my kinsmen and destroyed my family. But I now see that there is a greater Cause to be served than mere revenge.’ The two men shook hands and their eyes locked.

  ‘Buona fortuna, amico mio,’ said Machiavelli sternly.

  ‘Buona fortuna anche.’

  It wasn’t hard to reach the village whose identity Checco had so carelessly given away, even if his description of it as a slum had been a little ungracious. It was small and poor, like most serf-villages in the Romagna, and it showed signs of having recently been flooded by its nearby river; but on the whole it was neat and clean, the houses roughly whitewashed and the thatch new. Although the water-logged road that divided the dozen or so houses was still mired from the flood, everything suggested order, if not contentment, and industry, if not happiness. The only thing which distinguished Santa Salvaza from a peacetime village was that it was peppered with Orsi men-at-arms. No wonder, mused Ezio, that Checco thought he could afford to mention where he was holding Bianca and Ottaviano. The next question was, where exactly in the village might Caterina’s children be located?

  Ezio, having armed himself this time with the double-blade on his left forearm with his metal arm-guard, and the pistola on his right, as well as a light arming-sword hung from his belt, was dressed simply in a peasant’s woollen cloak which hung down below his knees. He pulled his hood up to avoid recognition, and, dismounting some way outside the village and keeping a weather-eye out for Orsi scouts, he slung a fardel of kindling borrowed from an outhouse on to his back. Stooping beneath it, he made his way into Santa Salvaza.

  The residents of the village tried to go about their business as they normally did, despite the military presence that had been foisted on to them. Naturally, no one was particularly enamoured of the Orsi mercenaries, and Ezio, unnoticed by the latter but almost instantly recognized as a stranger by the locals, was able to gain their support in his mission. He made his way to a house at the end of the village, larger than the others and set slightly apart. It was there, he’d been told by an old woman carrying water from the river, that one of the children was being held. Ezio was grateful that the Orsi soldiery was pretty thinly spread. Most of the force were busy laying siege to Forlì.

  But he knew he had very little time to rescue the children.

  The door and windows of the house were firmly shut, but as he made his way round the back, where two wings of the building formed a courtyard, Ezio heard a young, firm voice delivering a severe lecture. He climbed on to the roof and peered down into the courtyard, where Bi
anca Sforza, the miniature image of her mother, was giving two surly Orsi guardsmen a dressing-down.

  ‘Are you two sorry-looking specimens all they could rustle up to guard me?’ she was saying regally, drawn up to her full height and showing as little fear as her mother would have done. ‘Stolti! It won’t be enough! My mamma is fierce and would never let you hurt me. We Sforza women are no shrinking violets, you know! We may look pretty to the eye, but the eyes deceive. As my pappa found out!’ She drew breath, and the guards looked at each other nonplussed. ‘I hope you don’t imagine I’m scared of you either, because if you did you’d be very much mistaken. And if you touch one hair of my little brother’s head, my mamma will hunt you down and eat you for breakfast! Capito?’

  ‘Just button it, you little fool,’ growled the older of the guards. ‘Unless you want a clip round the ear!’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that! In any case, it’s absurd. You’ll never get away with this, and I’ll be safe at home within the hour. In fact, I’m getting bored. I’m surprised you don’t have anything better to do, while I wait for you to die!’

  ‘All right, that’s quite enough,’ said the older guard, reaching out to grab her. But at that moment Ezio fired his pistola from the rooftop, hitting the soldier squarely in the chest. The man was launched from his feet – crimson blossoming through his tunic even before he hit the ground. Ezio mused for a second that Leonardo’s powder mix must be improving. In the flurry of confusion that followed the guard’s sudden death, Ezio leapt down from the rooftop, landing with the grace and power of a panther, and with his double-blades quickly rounded on the younger guard, who fumbled in drawing an ugly-looking dagger. Ezio slashed precisely at the man’s forearm, shearing through tendons as though they were ribbons. The man’s dagger dropped to the ground, sticking point first in the mud – and before he could muster any further defence, Ezio had brought the double-blade under his jaw, stabbing through the soft tissue of the mouth and tongue, into the cavity of the skull. Ezio calmly withdrew the blades, leaving the corpse to slump to the ground.