‘All right.’
‘But watch how you aim. Your girlfriend’s troops are out there fighting the Borgia. We wouldn’t want to take any of them out.’
‘What girlfriend?’
The armourer winked. ‘Do me a favour, Ezio. This is a very small town.’
Ezio made his way to the second big gun. A gunner was sponging it down to cool it after firing as another was muzzle-loading it with tamped-down powder and a 50-pound iron ball. A third man prepared the slow match, lighting it at both ends so there would be no delay if one end accidentally burnt out at the moment of touch.
‘Let’s go,’ said Ezio as he came up.
‘Signore!’
He scanned the field beyond the wall. The green grass was splattered with blood, and the fallen lay strewn among the wheatsheaves. He could see the yellow, black and blue livery of Caterina’s men interspersed with the mulberry and yellow of the Borgia tunics.
‘Get some of the smaller guns to pick out those individuals. Tell them to aim for the black and gold,’ Ezio snapped. ‘And let’s get this gun trained on the siege tower over there. It’s getting too close for comfort; we need to take it out.’
The gunners heaved the cannon round and dipped the barrel so that it was aimed at the base of the approaching tower, which was no more than fifty yards from the walls by now.
Ezio was busy directing aim when a nearby saker was hit. It exploded, flinging red-hot bronze in every direction. Ezio’s gunner, who was inches away from him, had his head and shoulders sliced off by shards. The man’s arms fell to the floor, and the remains of his body followed suit, spewing blood like a fountain. The pungent smell of burnt meat filled Ezio’s nostrils as he leapt to take the gunner’s place.
‘Keep your nerve,’ he yelled to the rest of the crew. He squinted along the gunsight. ‘Steady now … and … fire!’
The cannon thundered as Ezio jumped to one side and watched as the ball smashed into the base of the tower. Had that one shot been enough? The tower lurched badly, seemed to steady, and then – by God! – crashed to the earth, seemingly in slow motion, throwing some of the men it contained clear whilst crushing others. The screams of the wounded mules that had been dragging it forward added to the cacophony of panic and death – the attendants of all battles. Ezio watched as Caterina’s troops moved in swiftly to wipe out the wounded and bemused Borgia survivors. She herself was at the head, her silver breastplate flashing in the cold sunlight. Ezio saw her plunge her sword straight through a Borgia captain’s right eye and into his brain. The soldier’s body squirmed in the agony of death for a long moment, pivoted by its point, his hands uselessly trying to clutch the firmly held blade and pull it out.
There was no time to take pleasure in their triumph or rest on their laurels, though. Looking down over the ramparts, Ezio could see Borgia troops bringing massive battering rams up to the main gate, and at the same time he heard Caterina’s warning cry. We’ll send a thousand men to Forlì to help her against this bastard Cesare, he said to himself.
‘If they get in, they’ll kill us all,’ said a voice at his shoulder. Ezio turned to see the old master sergeant. He had lost his helmet and an ugly head wound seeped blood.
‘We must get the people out. Now.’
‘Some have already been able to leave, but those less able to help themselves are stranded.’
‘I’ll deal with it,’ said Ezio, recalling Mario’s admonition. ‘Take over here, Ruggiero. Look! Over there! They’ve got a tower right up to the ramparts! Their men are storming the wall! Get some more of our men over there before they overpower us.’
‘Sir!’ And the sergeant was gone, yelling orders, at the head of a platoon that gathered swiftly at his command and which, within seconds, was locked in hand-to-hand combat with the vicious Borgia mercenaries.
Ezio, sword in hand and slashing his way past the oncoming enemy troops, made his way down to the town. Quickly organizing a group of Caterina’s men who had been forced to retreat into the town as the tide of battle turned once more in the Borgia’s favour, he did his best to round up the remaining vulnerable townspeople and shepherd them into the relative safety of the citadel. As he completed the task, Caterina joined him.
‘What news?’ he asked her.
‘Bad news,’ she rejoined. ‘They’ve smashed down the main gate. They’re moving into the town.’
‘Then we haven’t a minute to lose. We must all retreat into the citadel.’
‘I’ll muster the rest of my men.’
‘Come quickly. Have you seen Mario?’
‘He was fighting outside the walls.’
‘And the others?’
‘Your mother and sister are already in the citadel. They’ve been guiding the citizens through the escape tunnel that leads to the north, beyond the walls, and safety.’
‘Good. I must go to them. Join us as fast as you can. We’ll have to fall back.’
‘Kill them all,’ yelled a Borgia sergeant as he rounded the corner at the head of a small troop of men. All held bloodied swords aloft, and one man brandished a pike on which he had stuck the head of a girl. Ezio’s throat went dry as he recognized the face – it was Angelina’s. With a roar, he fell on the Borgia soldiers. Six against one was nothing to him. Slicing and stabbing, within seconds he stood amidst a circle of maimed and dying men, his chest heaving as he breathed hard with the exertion
The blood cleared from his eyes. Caterina was gone. Wiping sweat, blood and grime from his face, he made his way back up to the citadel, telling the men guarding it to open up only to Mario and Caterina. He climbed the inner tower and looked down over the burning town.
Apart from the crackle of the flames and the isolated moans of the wounded and dying, things had gone ominously quiet.
9
The quiet did not last for long, however. Just as Ezio was checking that the cannon on the ramparts were correctly aligned and loaded, a mighty explosion threw the citadel’s massive wooden gates aside, hurling its defenders backwards into the courtyard, below where Ezio stood on the battlements, and killing many.
As the smoke and dust cleared, Ezio made out a group of people standing in the gateway. His Uncle Mario appeared to be at their head, but evidently something was badly wrong. His face was grey and drained of blood. He also looked far older than his sixty-two years. His eyes locked with Ezio’s as his nephew leapt down from the battlements to confront the new danger. Mario fell to his knees, then onto his face. He struggled to rise, but a long, thin, thrusting sword – a Bilbao – projected from between his shoulder blades. The young man behind him shoved him back into the gravel with the toe of his black boot and a trail of blood formed at the corner of the old man’s mouth.
The young man was dressed in black, and a black mask partially covered his vicious face. Ezio recognized the pustules of the New Disease on the man’s skin. He shuddered inwardly. There was no doubt whom he was confronting.
Flanking the man in black were two others, both in early middle age; and a beautiful blonde woman with cruel lips. Another man, also dressed in black, stood apart and a little to one side. He held a bloodstained falchion in his right hand, and in his left he held a chain, which was attached to a heavy collar around Caterina Sforza’s neck, who was bound and gagged. Her eyes flashed unquenchable rage and defiance. Ezio’s heart stopped – he couldn’t believe that just this morning he’d held her once again, and now she’d been captured by the vile Borgia leader. How could this be happening? His eyes met hers for an instant across the courtyard, sending her a promise that she would not be a prisoner for long.
With no time to figure out all that was unfolding around him, Ezio’s soldier’s instinct took control. He must act now or lose everything. He strode forward, closed his eyes and stepped off the battlement, his cape flowing out behind him – it was a leap of faith to the courtyard below. With practised grace he landed on his feet and stood tall to confront his enemies, cold determination etched on his face.
&n
bsp; The master armourer staggered up, struggling with a wounded leg, and stood by Ezio. ‘Who are these people?’ he breathed.
‘Oh,’ said the young man in black, ‘we haven’t introduced ourselves. How remiss of us. But I course I know you, Ezio Auditore, if only by repute. Such a pleasure. At last I shall be able to remove the biggest thorn in my side. After your dear uncle, of course.’
‘Step back from him, Cesare!’
One eyebrow went up and the dark eyes blazed in the handsome, flawed face. ‘Oh, how flattered I am that you’ve guessed my name correctly. But let me present my sister, Lucrezia.’ He turned to nuzzle the blonde in a most unbrotherly way as she squeezed his arm and pressed her lips dangerously close to his mouth. ‘And my close associates Juan Borgia, cousin, friend and banker; my dear French ally, General Octavien de Valois, and, last but not least, my indispensable right-hand man, Micheletto da Corella. What would I do without my friends?’
‘And your father’s money.’
‘Bad joke, my friend.’
As Cesare spoke, his troops moved like ghosts into the citadel. Ezio was powerless to stop them as his own men – hopelessly outnumbered – were swiftly overcome and disarmed.
‘But I’m a good soldier, and part of the fun is choosing efficient support,’ Cesare continued. ‘I must admit I didn’t think you’d be quite such a pushover. But of course, you aren’t getting any younger, are you?’
‘I’ll kill you,’ Ezio said evenly. ‘I’ll wipe you and your kind from the face of the earth.’
‘Not today you won’t,’ said Cesare, smiling. ‘And just look what I’ve got, courtesy of your uncle.’ A gloved hand delved into a pouch at his side and from it he produced, to Ezio’s horror, the Apple!
‘Useful gadget,’ said Cesare, smiling thinly. ‘Leonardo da Vinci, my new military advisor, tells me he already knows quite a lot about it, so I’m hoping he’ll enlighten me further, which I’m sure he will if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders. Artists! Ten a penny, as I’m sure you’d agree.’
Lucrezia sniggered unfeelingly at this.
Ezio looked across at his old friend, but da Vinci refused to meet his gaze. On the floor, Mario stirred and groaned. Cesare pushed his face into the ground with his boot and produced a gun – it was a new design, as Ezio immediately recognized, regretting again the destruction of most of his Codex weapons at the outset of the attack.
‘That’s not a matchlock,’ said the armourer keenly.
‘It’s a wheel-lock,’ said Cesare. ‘You’re clearly no fool,’ he added, addressing the armourer. ‘It’s much more predictable and efficient than the old guns. Leonardo designed it for me. Reloads fast, too. Would you like a demonstration?’
‘Indeed!’ the armourer replied, his professional interest overcoming any other instinct.
‘By all means,’ said Cesare, levelling the pistol at him and shooting him dead. ‘Reload, please,’ he continued, passing the gun to General Octavien and producing its twin from his belt. ‘We’ve had so much bloodshed,’ he went on, ‘so it’s distressing to reflect that a little more cleansing is in order. Never mind. Ezio, I’d like you to take this in the spirit it’s meant – from my family to yours.’
Stooping slightly and placing one foot in the centre of Mario’s back, he drew the sword out, letting the blood ooze forth. Mario’s eyes went wide with pain as he struggled to crawl towards his nephew.
Cesare leaned forward and fired the pistol at point-blank range into the back of Mario’s cranium, which burst apart.
‘No!’ shouted Ezio as the memory of the brutal murder of his father and brothers flashed through his mind. ‘No!’ He lunged towards Cesare, the agony of loss surging through him uncontrollably.
As Ezio leapt forward, General Octavien, having reloaded the gun. Ezio staggered back, choking, and the world went black.
10
By the time Ezio came to, the tide of battle had turned again and the Borgia attackers had been chased back outside the walls of the citadel. He found himself being dragged to safety as the soldiers who had retaken the rocca closed the broken gate with a barricade, gathered all the remaining citizens of Monteriggioni within its walls and began organizing their escape to the countryside beyond. There was no knowing how long they could hold out against the determined forces of the Borgia, whose strength seemed limitless.
All this Ezio learned from the grizzled master sergeant as he was recovering.
‘Stay still, my Lord.’
‘Where am I?’
‘On a stretcher. We’re taking you to the sanctuary. The inner sanctum. No one will reach there.’
‘Put me down. I can walk.’
‘We have to dress that wound.’
Ignoring him, Ezio shouted an order at the stretcher-bearers. But when he stood up his head reeled.
‘I cannot fight like this.’
‘Oh God, here they come again,’ bellowed the sergeant as a siege tower crashed into the upper castellations of the citadel, disgorging yet another fresh troop of Borgia soldiers.
Ezio turned to face them, his head slowly clearing from the darkness, his steely self-control overcoming the searing pain of the gunshot wound. Assassin condottieri quickly surrounded him and fought off Cesare’s men. They managed to beat a retreat with few casualties, but as they made their way into the inner vastness of the castle, Claudia shouted from a doorway, eager to hear of her brother’s well-being. As she stepped into the open, a Borgia captain rushed towards her, bloodied sword in his hand. Ezio looked on in horror, but recovered his composure enough to yell at his men. Two Assassin fighters ran towards Ezio’s sister, only just managing to put themselves between her and the flashing blade of the Borgia murderer. Sparks shot from the contact of the three blades as both Assassins raised their swords simultaneously to block the killing blow. Claudia stumbled to the ground, her mouth open in a silent scream. The stronger of the Assassin soldiers, the master sergeant, pushed the enemy’s sword skywards, locking the hilts at the hand-guards, while the other Assassin pulled back his blade and stabbed forward into the guts of the Borgia captain. Claudia regained her composure and rose slowly to her feet. Safely in the fold of the Assassin troop, she rushed towards Ezio, ripping a strip of cotton from her skirts and pressing it to his shoulder; the white cloth quickly bloomed red with blood from the wound.
‘Shit! Don’t take risks like that!’ Ezio told her, thanking the sergeant as his men pushed the enemy back, hurling some from the high battlements while others fled.
‘We must get you inside the sanctuary,’ cried Claudia. ‘Come on!’
Ezio allowed himself to be carried again – he had lost a lot of blood. In the meantime, the remaining citizens of the town, who had not yet been able to escape, crowded round them. Monteriggioni itself was deserted and under the complete control of the Borgia force. Only the citadel remained in Assassin hands.
Finally they reached their goal: the cavernous fortified room beneath the castle’s northern wall, linked to the main building by a secret passage leading from Mario’s library. But only in the nick of time. One of their men, a Venetian thief called Paganino who had once been under Antonio de Magianis’s control, was in the act of closing the secret door to the stairwell as the last of the fugitives passed through it.
‘We thought you had been killed, Ser Ezio!’ he cried.
‘They haven’t got me yet,’ returned Ezio grimly.
‘I don’t know what to do. Where does this passage lead?’
‘To the north, outside the walls.’
‘So it’s true. We always thought it was a legend.’
‘Well, now you know better,’ said Ezio, looking at the man and wondering if, in the heat of the moment, he had said too much to a man he knew little of. He ordered his sergeant to close the door, but at the last moment Paganino slipped through it, back to the main building.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I have to help the defenders. Don’t worry, I’ll lead them back this way.
’
‘I must bolt this door behind us. If you don’t come now you are on your own.’
‘I’ll manage, sir. I always do.’
‘Then go with God. I must ensure the safety of these people.’
Ezio took stock of the crowd gathered in the sanctuary. In the gloom he could make out amongst the fugitives the features not only of Claudia, but of his mother. He breathed an inward sigh of relief.
‘There is no time to be lost,’ he told them, jamming the door shut behind him with a sizeable iron bar.
11
Ezio’s mother and sister quickly dressed and bandaged his wound properly, and got him to his feet, then Ezio directed the master sergeant to twist the hidden lever that had been built into the statue of the Master Assassin, Leonius, which stood by the side of the giant chimney piece at the centre of the northern wall of the sanctuary. The concealed door swung open, revealing the corridor through which the people could escape to the safety of the countryside half a mile beyond the city limits.
Claudia and Maria stood by the entrance, shepherding townsfolk through it. The master sergeant had gone ahead with a platoon, bearing torches, to guide and protect the refugees as they made their escape.
‘Hurry!’ Ezio urged the citizens as they entered the dark maw of the tunnel. ‘Don’t panic. Be quick but don’t run. We don’t want a stampede in the tunnel.’
‘And what of us? What of Mario?’ asked his mother.
‘Mario – how can I tell you this? – Mario has been killed. I want you and Claudia to make your way home to Florence.’
‘Mario dead?’ cried Maria.
‘What is there in Florence for us?’ asked Claudia.
Ezio spread his hands. ‘Our home. Lorenzo de’ Medici and his son undertook to restore the Auditore mansion to us, and they were as good as their word. Now the city is in the control of the Signoria again, and I know that Governor Soderini watches over it well. Go home. Put yourselves in the care of Paola and Annetta. I will join you as soon as I can.’
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