Machiavelli was nowhere to be found. Even at the Assassin’s secret headquarters on Tiber Island he had left no news. The best information Ezio could get was that he was ‘away’, but he wasn’t reported to be in Florence either. The two young friends who were temporarily in Rome at the time – Baldassare Castiglione and Pietro Bembo – and running the hideout were completely reliable, and already associate members of the Brotherhood, not least because one had connections with Cesare and the other with Lucrezia. It was a pity, Ezio thought, that the first had to return to Mantua soon and the other to Venice. He consoled himself with the thought that they would nonetheless be useful to him in their home towns.
Satisfied that he had done what he could on those fronts, Ezio turned his thoughts back to The Rosa in Fiore.
This time, when he paid a visit to the brothel, the door was open. The place seemed airier somehow, and lighter. He’d remembered the names of the girls he’d met on the day of Madonna Solari’s abduction, and after having given them to the older and more sophisticated woman in the entrance hall, who, he noticed, had two well-dressed, young, polite, but tough-looking men standing guard, he was ushered through to the inner courtyard, where, he was told, he’d find the girls.
He found himself in a rose garden, surrounded by high red-brick walls. A pergola, almost hidden under luxuriant pink climbing roses, ran along one wall, and in the centre was a small fountain with white marble benches around it. The girls he sought were with a group of others, talking to two older women whose backs were to him. They turned on his approach.
He was about to introduce himself – he’d decided to try another tack this time – when his jaw dropped.
‘Mother! Claudia! What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you. Ser Machiavelli told us we might find you here. Before he left.’
‘Where is he? Did you see him in Florence?’
‘No.’
‘But what are you doing here in Rome?’ he repeated dumbly. He was filled with shock and anxiety. ‘Has Florence been attacked?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Maria. ‘But the rumours were true: our palazzo has been destroyed. There is nothing for us there.’
‘And even if it were not in ruins, I would never go back to Mario’s rocca at Monteriggioni,’ put in Claudia. Ezio looked at her and nodded. He understood what a backwater that place would seem to a woman like her, but his heart was troubled.
‘So we have come here. We have taken a house in Rome,’ continued Maria. ‘Our place is with you.’
Thoughts raced through Ezio’s mind. In his innermost heart, though he scarcely admitted it to his conscious mind, he still felt that he might have prevented the deaths of his father and brothers. He had failed them. Maria and Claudia were all that was left of his family. Might he not fail them in the same way? He did not want them to be dependent on him.
He attracted danger. If they were near him, would they not attract danger too? He didn’t want their deaths on his head. They’d have been better off in Florence, where they had friends, where their safety, in a city once again stable under the wise management of Piero Soderini, would have been ensured.
‘Ezio,’ said Claudia, interrupting his thoughts. ‘We want to help.’
‘I sought to keep you safe by sending you to Firenze.’ He tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, but found that he was snapping as he spoke. Maria and Claudia looked shocked, and although Maria let it go quickly, Ezio could see that Claudia was wounded and offended. Had she picked up something of his thoughts?
Luckily, they were interrupted by Agnella and Lucia. ‘Messer, excuse us, but we are anxious. ‘We still have no news of Madonna Solari. Do you know what has become of her?’
Ezio’s thoughts were still on Claudia and the expression in her eyes, but his attention switched at the question. Cesare must have done a good cover-up job. But then again, bodies were found in the Tiber practically every day, and some of them had been there for some time.
‘She’s dead,’ he said abruptly.
‘What?’ cried Lucia.
‘Merda,’ said Agnella succinctly.
The news spread quickly among the girls.
‘What do we do now?’ asked one.
‘Will we have to close?’ asked another.
Ezio deduced the undercurrent of their anxiety. Under Madonna Solari, however inefficient Machiavelli had said she was, these girls had been collecting information for the Assassins. Without protection, and if, as Solari’s death suggested, Cesare had his suspicions about The Rosa in Fiore, what might their fate be? On the other hand, if he had thought that Solari wasn’t the only spy in the place, wouldn’t he have made a move by now?
That was it. There was still hope.
‘You cannot close,’ he told them. ‘I need your help.’
‘But Messere, without someone to run things, we are finished.’
A voice near him said decisively, ‘I’ll do it.’
It was Claudia.
Ezio wheeled on her. ‘You do not belong here, sister!’
‘I know how to run a business,’ she retorted. ‘I ran Uncle Mario’s estates out in the sticks for years.’
‘This is quite different.’
His mother’s calming voice intervened. ‘What alternative do you have, Ezio? You need someone fast, evidently, and you know you can trust your sister.’
Ezio saw the logic of this, but it would mean putting Claudia on the front line – the very place he most dreaded her being. He glared at her, and she returned the look with defiance.
‘You do this, Claudia, and you are on your own. You’ll get no special protection from me.’
‘I’ve done perfectly well without that for twenty years,’ she sneered.
‘Fine,’ he returned icily. ‘Then you’d better get down to work. First of all, I want this place thoroughly cleaned up, redecorated and improved in every way. Even this garden needs a good job done on it. I want this place to be the best establishment in town. And God knows you’ve got competition. And I want the girls clean – this new disease no one seems to know much about, it’s rife in all the ports and in the biggest cities, so we all know what that means.’
‘We’ll see to it,’ replied Claudia coldly.
‘You’d better. And there’s another thing. While you’re at it, I want your courtesans to find out the whereabouts of Caterina Sforza.’ He remained stony-faced.
‘You can count on us.’
‘You’re in this now, Claudia. Any mistakes and they’re on your head.’
‘I can take care of myself, Brother.’
‘I hope you can,’ growled Ezio, turning on his heel.
21
Ezio was busy for the next few weeks, consolidating the remaining forces of the Brotherhood gathered in Rome, and deciding what use to make of the initial information he had gathered from La Volpe, and from the early reports sent by Bartolomeo. He hardly dared hope that the tide was turning against the Borgia, but it could be that he was looking at the beginning of the end. He remembered, however, the old adage about how much easier it is to handle a young lion than to approach an old, experienced one. Set against his cautious optimism was the fact that Cesare’s grip on the Romagna was tightening, while the French held Milan. Nor had the French withdrawn their support from the Papal Commander. Years earlier, the Cardinal of San Pietro in Vincula, Giuliano della Rovere, the Pope’s great enemy, had tried to turn the French against the Borgia and topple Alexander from his seat, but Alexander had outwitted him. How could Ezio succeed where della Rovere had failed? At least no one had poisoned the cardinal – he was too powerful for that – and he remained Ezio’s trump card.
Ezio had also decided, though this he kept to himself, that his mission should be to encourage the Brotherhood to relocate their headquarters permanently to Rome. Rome was at the centre of world affairs – and the centre of world corruption. Where else could be better suited, especially now that Monteriggioni was no longer a viable option.
Ezio had plans for a system of distribution of the Brotherhood’s funds, in response to individual Assassins’ successfully completed missions. Those diamonds he’d taken from the slave traders had come in very handy and been a welcome addition to the campaign fund.
One day …
But ‘one day’ was still a long way off. The Brotherhood still had no new elected leader, though by common consent, and by virtue of their actions, he and Machiavelli had become its temporary chiefs. This was only temporary, though, and nothing had been ratified in formal council.
Caterina still preyed on Ezio’s mind.
He had left Claudia to oversee the renovation of The Rosa in Fiore without any supervision or interference. Let her sink or swim in her own overweening confidence. It would be no fault of his if she sank. The brothel was an important link in his network, however, and he admitted to himself that if he really had no faith in her, he might have leaned on her harder in the first place. Now was the time to put her work – what she had achieved – to the test.
When he returned to The Rosa in Fiore, he was as surprised as he was pleased. It was just as successful as his other transformations in the city and at Bartolomeo’s barracks, though he was modest and realistic enough not to take all the credit for those. He hid his delight as he took in the sumptuous rooms hung with costly tapestries, the wide sofas, the soft silk cushions and the white wines chilled with ice – an expensive luxury.
The girls looked like ladies, not whores, and from their manner someone had evidently taught them to be more refined. As for the clientele, the least he could infer was that business was booming, and though he’d had his reservations about the nature of their standing earlier, there could be no doubt now. Looking around the central salon, he could see at least a dozen cardinals and senators, as well as members of the Apostolic Camera and other officers of the Curia.
They were all enjoying themselves, all relaxed, and all – he hoped – unsuspecting. But the proof of the pudding would lie in the value of the information Claudia’s courtesans were able to extract from this venal bunch of slobs.
He caught sight of his sister – modestly dressed, he was glad to see – talking rather too affectionately (to his mind) to Ascanio Sforza, the former Vice-Chancellor of the Curia and now in Rome again after his brief disgrace, trying to wheedle his way back into Papal favour. When Claudia caught sight of Ezio, her expression changed. She excused herself from the cardinal and came towards him, a brittle smile on her face.
‘Welcome to The Rosa in Fiore, Brother,’ she said.
‘Indeed.’ He did not smile.
‘As you can see, it is the most popular brothel in Rome.’
‘Corruption is still corruption, however well dressed it is.’
She bit her lip. ‘We have done well. And don’t forget why this place really exists.’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘The Brotherhood’s money seems to have been well invested.’
‘That’s not all. Come to the office.’
To Ezio’s surprise, he found Maria there, doing some paperwork with an accountant. Mother and son greeted each other guardedly.
‘I want to show you this,’ said Claudia, producing a book. ‘Here is where I keep a list of all the skills taught to my girls.’
‘Your girls?’ Ezio could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice. His sister was taking to this like a duck to water.
‘Why not? Take a look.’ Her own manner had tightened.
Ezio leafed through the proffered book. ‘You aren’t teaching them much.’
‘Think you could do better?’ she answered sarcastically.
‘Nessun problema,’ Ezio said unpleasantly.
Sensing trouble, Maria abandoned her accounts and came up to them. ‘Ezio,’ she said, ‘the Borgia make it difficult for Claudia’s girls. They keep out of trouble, but it’s hard to avoid suspicion. There are several things you could do to aid them …’
‘I’ll keep that in mind. You must let me have a note of them.’ Ezio turned his attention back to Claudia. ‘Anything else?’
‘No.’ She paused, then said, ‘Ezio?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
Ezio turned as if to go. Then he said, ‘Have you found Caterina?’
‘We are working on it,’ she replied coldly.
‘I’m glad to hear it. Bene. Come to see me at Isola Tiberina the minute you have found out exactly where they are holding her.’ He inclined his head towards the sounds of merriment coming from the central salon. ‘With this lot to milk, you shouldn’t find it that difficult.’
He left them to it.
Outside in the street, he felt guilty about the way he’d behaved. They seemed to be doing a great job. But would Claudia be able to hold her own?
Inwardly, he shrugged. He acknowledged once again that the true source of his anger was his own anxiety about his ability to protect those he held most dear. He needed them, he knew, but he was aware that his fear for their safety made him vulnerable.
22
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 knowing where they had gone – but he recognized in his heart that, for Machiavelli, he must make an exception. 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 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. ‘That was 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 sombre.
‘Buona sera,’ Ezio said and got straight down to business. ‘What have you discovered?’
Bartolomeo spoke first: ‘We’ve ascertained that that bastardo 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 know for sure.’
‘I have news of Caterina Sforza,’ Claudia put in. ‘She will be moved to the prison within the Castel next week, on Thursday towards 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: ‘Do not worry, my friends; they will die. You have my word.’
23
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 round 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, wearing a dark blue gown with a white bodice. Ezio recognized the beautiful blonde with the cruel lips immediately. He had last seen her at the sacking 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 time for restraint. A rescue attempt 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.’
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