Meanwhile Mario, unnoticed, had taken two steps sideways, closing the angle of attack on the two remaining guards, whose attention was still entirely focused on the shocking display of violence unfolding before them. In two more steps, he closed in and heaved his sword under the breastplate of the nearest guard, the point rising up sickeningly into the man’s torso. The guard’s face contorted with confused agony. One man left. With horror in his eyes he turned as if to flee – but too late. Ezio’s blade struck his right flank as Mario’s sword sliced into his thigh. The man fell to his knees with a grunt and Mario kicked him over.
The two Assassins looked around – the blood of the guards spread across the paved ground, soaking into the scarlet hems of the cardinals’ vestments.
‘Let’s go before more of Borgia’s men reach us.’ They brandished their swords at the now terrified cardinals, who quickly fled the Assassins, clearing a path that would lead them from the Vatican. They heard the sound of approaching horses – no doubt more soldiers – as they pushed their way forcefully towards the south-east, running at full speed across the expanse of the plaza, away from the Vatican in the direction of the Tiber. The horses Mario had organized for their escape were tethered just outside the purlieus of the Holy See. But first they had to turn to those Papal Guards who had followed on horseback and who were bearing down on them fast, their thundering hooves echoing on the cobbles. Using their falchions, Ezio and Mario managed to strike away the halberds the guards thrust at them.
Mario cut one guard down just as he was about to stab Ezio from behind with his spear.
‘Not bad for an old man,’ Ezio cried gratefully.
‘I expect you to return the favour,’ returned his uncle. ‘And not so much of your “old man”!’
‘I haven’t forgotten everything you taught me.’
‘I should hope not. Look out!’ Ezio whirled round just in time to slice the legs of a horse from under a guard who’d galloped up wielding a vicious-looking mace.
‘Buona questa!’ shouted Mario. ‘Good one!’
Ezio leapt sideways, avoiding two more of his pursuers and managing to unsaddle them as they careered past, carried forward by their own momentum. Mario, heavier and older, preferred to stand his ground and cut at his enemies before leaping out of their reach. But once they had gained the edge of the broad square that faced the great cathedral church of St Peter, the two Assassins quickly clambered to the safety of the rooftops, scaling the crumbling house walls as nimbly as geckos, and scampering across them, leaping over the gaps where the streets between them made canyons. It wasn’t always easy, and at one point Mario nearly didn’t make it, his fingers scrabbling for the gutters as he fell just short. Panting hard, Ezio doubled back to pull him clear, succeeding just as the crossbow bolts fired by their pursuers rattled uselessly past them into the sky.
But their going was far faster than that of the guards, who, more heavily armoured and lacking the skills of the Assassins, tried in vain to keep up by running though the pathways beneath until gradually they fell back.
Mario and Ezio clattered to a halt on a roof overlooking a small square on the edge of Trastevere. Two large, tough-looking chestnut horses were saddled and ready outside a lowly-looking inn, its battered sign declaring it to be The Sleeping Fox, while being watched over by a wall-eyed hunchback with a bushy moustache.
‘Gianni!’ hissed Mario.
The man looked up and immediately undid the reins by which the horses were tethered to a huge iron ring set into the wall of the inn. Mario instantly leapt down from the rooftop, landing in a crouch, and from there sprang into the saddle of the nearer, and larger, of the two horses. It whinnied and trod the earth in nervous anticipation.
‘Shh, Campione,’ said Mario to the animal, and then, looking up to where Ezio still stood on the parapet, he yelled, ‘Come on! What are you waiting for?’
‘Just a minute, Zio,’ said Ezio, turning to face two Borgia guards who had managed to struggle up to the roof and who were now facing him with – to his astonishment – cocked pistols of a type that was new to him. Where the hell had they got those from? This was no time for questions, though, so he whirled through the air at them, unleashing his Hidden Blade and slicing each neatly through the jugular before they had a chance to fire.
‘Impressive,’ said Mario, reining in his impatient horse. ‘Now, get a move on! Cosa diavolo aspetti?’
Ezio threw himself off the roof to land close by the second horse, which was being held firmly by the hunchback, then he rebounded off the ground to spring into the animal’s saddle. It reared excitedly under his weight but he immediately had it under control and wheeled it round to follow his uncle as he rode fast towards the Tiber. At the same time Gianni disappeared into the inn, and a detachment of Borgia cavalry tore round the corner into the square. Digging his heels into the horse’s flanks, Ezio sped after his uncle as they made their way at breakneck speed through the broken-down streets of Rome towards the dirty, sluggish river. At their backs they could hear the shouts of the mounted Borgia guards, cursing their prey as Mario and Ezio galloped through the maze of ancient streets, slowly pulling further away.
Having reached Tiber Island they crossed the river by a rickety bridge that trembled beneath their horses’ hooves, then they doubled back, turning north to ride up the main street leading out of the squalid little town that had once been the capital of the civilized world. They did not stop until they were in the depths of the countryside, and had assured themselves they were out of reach of their pursuers.
Near the settlement of Settebagni, in the shade of a massive elm tree by the side of the dusty road that ran parallel to the river, they reined their horses in and took time to draw breath.
‘That was too close, Uncle.’
The older man shrugged and smiled a little painfully. From a saddlebag Mario produced a leather flagon of rough red wine and proffered it to his nephew.
‘Here,’ he said, slowly catching his breath. ‘Good for you.’
Ezio drank, then grimaced. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘It’s the best they can do at The Sleeping Fox,’ said Mario, grinning broadly. ‘But once we get to Monteriggioni you’ll fare better.’
Ezio smiled and passed the flask back to his uncle, but then his features became troubled.
‘What is it?’ asked Mario in gentler tones.
Slowly, Ezio produced the Apple from the pouch in which he’d stowed it. ‘This. What am I to do with it?’
Mario looked grave. ‘It is a heavy responsibility. But it is one you must shoulder alone.’
‘How can I?’
‘What does your heart tell you?’
‘My heart tells me to be rid of it. But my brain …’
‘It was vouchsafed you … by whatever powers you encountered in the vault,’ said Mario solemnly. ‘They would not have given it back to mortals if there was not a purpose devised for it.’
‘It is too dangerous. If it fell into the wrong hands again …’ Ezio looked ominously at the slothful river flowing nearby. Mario watched him expectantly.
Ezio hefted the Apple in his gloved right hand. But still he hesitated. He knew he couldn’t throw such a great treasure away, and his uncle’s words had swayed him. Surely Minerva would not have allowed him to take back the Apple without reason.
‘The decision must be yours alone,’ said Mario. ‘But if you feel unhappy having custody of it now, give it to me for safekeeping. You can take it back later when your mind is calmer.’
Ezio hesitated still, but then they both heard, in the distance, the sound of thundering hooves and the baying of hounds.
‘Those bastards don’t give up easily,’ said Mario through gritted teeth. ‘Come, give it to me.’
Ezio sighed, but replaced the Apple in its leather pouch and threw it over to Mario, who quickly stowed it in his saddlebag.
‘And now,’ said Mario, ‘we must jump these nags into the river and swim them across. That’ll
put the damned dogs off our scent, and even if they’re bright enough to ford the Tiber themselves, we’ll be able to lose them in the woods over there. Come on. I want to be in Monteriggioni by this time tomorrow.’
‘How hard do you expect to ride?’
Mario dug his heels into his mount’s flanks and the beast reared, foam at the corners of its mouth.
‘Very hard,’ he said. ‘Because from now on we don’t simply have Rodrigo to contend with, his son and daughter are with him – Cesare and Lucrezia.’
‘And they are … ?’
‘The most dangerous people you are ever likely to meet.’
4
It was the afternoon of the following day when the little walled town of Monteriggioni, dominated by Mario’s rocca, appeared on its hill on the horizon. They had made better time than they’d expected and had now eased their pace to spare the horses.
‘… and then Minerva told me about the sun,’ Ezio was saying. ‘She told of a disaster that happened long ago, and foretold of another which is to come …’
‘But not until some time in the future, vero?’ said Mario. ‘Then we need not fret about it.’
‘Si,’ Ezio replied. ‘I wonder how much more work we have to do.’ He paused reflectively. ‘Perhaps it will soon be finished.’
‘Would that be so bad?’
Ezio was about to reply when he was interrupted by the sound of an explosion: cannon fire from the direction of the town. He drew his sword, rising in his saddle to scan the ramparts.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Mario, laughing heartily. ‘It’s only exercises. We’ve upgraded the arsenal here and installed new cannon all along the battlements. We have training sessions daily.’
‘As long as they aren’t aiming at us.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Mario again. ‘It’s true that the men still need to get their eye in, but they have enough sense not to fire at the boss!’
A short while later they were riding through the open principal gate of the town and up the main thoroughfare that led to the citadel. As they did so, crowds gathered to line the street, looking at Ezio with a mixture of respect, admiration and affection.
‘Welcome back, Ezio!’ one woman called.
‘Grazie, Madonna,’ Ezio smiled back, inclining his head slightly.
‘Three cheers for Ezio!’ a child’s voice rang out.
‘Buongiorno, fratellino,’ Ezio said to him. Turning to Mario, he added, ‘It’s good to be home.’
‘I think they’re more pleased to see you than me,’ said Mario, but he was smiling as he spoke, and in fact much of the cheering, especially from the older townsmen, was for him.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing the old family seat again,’ said Ezio. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘It has indeed, and there are a couple of people there who’ll be looking forward to seeing you.’
‘Who?’
‘Can’t you guess? You can’t be that preoccupied with your duties to the Brotherhood.’
‘Of course. You mean my mother and my sister. How are they?’
‘Well, your sister was very unhappy when her husband died, but time heals most things, and I think she’s much better now. In fact, there she is.’
They had ridden into the courtyard of Mario’s fortified residence, and, as they dismounted, Ezio’s sister, Claudia, appeared at the top of the marble staircase that led up to the main entrance and flew down it and into her brother’s arms.
‘Brother!’ she cried, hugging him. ‘Your return home is the best birthday present I could have wished for.’
‘Claudia, my dearest,’ said Ezio, holding her close. ‘It is good to be back. How is our mother?’
‘Well, thanks be to God. She’s dying to see you – we’ve been on tenterhooks ever since the news reached us that you were returning. And your fame goes before you.’
‘Let’s go in,’ said Mario.
‘There’s someone else who’ll be glad to see you,’ continued Claudia, taking his arm and escorting him up the staircase. ‘The Countess of Forlì.’
‘Caterina? Here?’ Ezio tried to keep the excitement out of his voice.
‘We did not know when exactly you would arrive. She and Mother are with the Abbess, but they will be here by sunset.’
‘Business first,’ said Mario knowingly. ‘I am calling a meeting of the Council of the Brotherhood here tonight. Machiavelli, I know, is especially keen to talk to you.’
‘Is it finished, then?’ asked Claudia intently. ‘Is the Spaniard truly dead?’
Ezio’s grey eyes hardened. ‘I will explain everything at the meeting this evening,’ he told her.
‘Very well,’ replied Claudia, but her eyes were troubled as she took her leave.
‘And please give my greetings to the Countess when she returns,’ Ezio called after her. ‘I will see her, and Mother, this evening. First I have business to attend to with Mario which will not wait.’
Once alone, Mario’s tone became serious. ‘You must prepare well for tonight, Ezio. Machiavelli will be here by sunset and I know he has many questions for you. We will discuss matters now, and then I advise you to take some time off – it won’t hurt you to get to know the town a little again.’
After a session of deep conversation with Mario in his study, Ezio made his way back into Monteriggioni. The question of the Pope’s survival hung heavily over him and he sought distraction from it. Mario had suggested he visit his tailor to order some new clothes to replace his travel-stained ones, so first he made his way to the tailor’s shop, where he found the tailor sitting cross-legged on his workbench, sewing a brocade cloak of a rich emerald green.
Ezio liked the tailor, who was a good-natured fellow a little older than Ezio himself. The tailor greeted him warmly.
‘To what do I owe the honour?’ he asked.
‘I think I’m due some new clothes,’ said Ezio a little ruefully. ‘Tell me what you think. Be honest.’
‘Even if it were not my job to sell you clothes, signore, I would have to advise you that a new suit would be the making of you.’
‘I thought as much! Very well!’
‘I’ll measure you now. Then you can pick out the colours you’d like.’
Ezio submitted himself to the tailor’s ministrations and chose a discreet dark grey velvet for the doublet, with matching hose in wool.
‘Can it be ready by tonight?’
The tailor smiled. ‘Not if you want me to do a good job of it, signore. But we can try for a fitting towards midday tomorrow.’
‘Very well,’ replied Ezio, hoping that the meeting he was to attend that evening would not result in his having to leave Monteriggioni immediately.
He was making his way across the town’s main square when he noticed an attractive woman struggling with an unwieldy box of red and yellow flowers that was clearly too heavy for her to lift. At that time of day there were few people around, and Ezio had always found it difficult to resist a damsel in distress.
‘Can I lend you a hand?’ he asked, coming up to her.
She smiled at him. ‘Yes, you’re just the man I need. My gardener was supposed to pick these up for me, but his wife’s sick so he had to go home. As I was passing this way I thought I’d fetch them, but this box is way too heavy for me. Do you think you could … ?’
‘Of course.’ Ezio stooped and hefted the box onto his shoulder. ‘So many flowers. You’re a lucky woman.’
‘Even luckier now that I’ve run into you.’
There was no doubt that she was flirting with him. ‘You could have asked your husband to fetch them for you, or one of your other servants,’ he said.
‘I have only one other servant and she isn’t half as strong as I am,’ replied the woman. ‘And as for a husband – I have none.’
‘I see.’
‘I ordered these flowers for Claudia Auditore’s birthday.’ The woman looked at him.
‘That sounds like fun.’
‘It will be.’ S
he paused. ‘In fact, if you’d like to help me out some more, I’m looking for someone with a bit of class to escort me to the party.’
‘Do you think I have enough class?’
She was bolder now. ‘Yes! No one in this entire town walks with greater bearing than you, sir. I am sure Claudia’s brother, Ezio himself, would be impressed.’
Ezio smiled. ‘You flatter me. But what do you know of this Ezio?’
‘Claudia – who is a particular friend of mine – thinks the world of him. But he rarely visits her, and from what I can gather he’s rather distant.’
Ezio decided it was time to come clean. ‘It’s true, alas – I have been … distant.’
The woman gasped. ‘Oh no! You are Ezio! I don’t believe it. Claudia did say you were expected back. The party’s supposed to be a surprise for her. Promise you won’t say a word.’
‘You’d better tell me who you are now.’
‘Oh, of course. I am Angelina Ceresa. Now promise.’
‘What will you do to keep me quiet?’
She looked at him archly. ‘Oh, I’m sure I can think of several things.’
‘I’m longing to hear what they are.’
They had reached the door of Angelina’s house by this time. Angelina’s elderly housekeeper opened it to them and Ezio placed the box of flowers on a stone bench in the courtyard. He faced Angelina and smiled.
‘Now, are you going to tell me?’
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