‘Ah – I did wonder. Normally we just go straight there.’
‘This is a particularly important consignment,’ said Ezio, hoping it was. The captain didn’t bat an eyelid.
While they had stopped to talk, one of the guards muttered to the other, ‘Load of rubbish, if you ask me. This kind of arsing about makes me wish I were still a blacksmith.’
‘I’m starving. I want to go home,’ muttered the other. ‘Stuff the security. It’s only a couple of blocks north of here.’
On hearing this, Ezio breathed a sigh of relief, for his mind had flashed on the location of the palazzo of the other banker, Agostino Chigi, who dealt with the Pope’s affairs. That was a little to the north-east of where they were now. It stood to reason that Cesare’s banker’s place would not be far away – in the financial district. What a fool he’d been not to think of that before, but it had been another busy day.
‘We’ve made enough of a detour,’ he said decisively. ‘We’ll take a direct route from here.’
He set off towards the Palazzo Chigi, and was reassured by the sense of relief he got from his companions. After a while, the captain even decided to take the lead. They adopted a brisk pace and soon reached a district of clean, broad streets. The large well-lit marble edifice they headed for had different guards on duty at the foot of its entrance steps and in front of the imposing double front door at their head.
Evidently, Ezio’s party was expected.
‘Not before time,’ said the leader of the new guards, who clearly outranked the captain. Turning to Ezio, he added, ‘Hand over the box to my men, Luigi. I’ll see the banker gets it. You’d better come, too. There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.’ He looked round. ‘Where’s Senator Troche?’
‘Dealt with as ordered,’ said Ezio quickly before anyone else could answer.
‘Good,’ replied the guard leader gruffly.
Ezio followed the box, which was now in the hands of the new guards, up the steps. Behind him, the captain made to follow.
‘Not you,’ said the guard leader.
‘We can’t go in?’
‘Not tonight. You and your men are to join the patrol here. And you might send one of them to fetch another detachment. We’re on full security. Orders of Duke Cesare.’
‘Porco puttana,’ growled one of Ezio’s guards to his mate.
Ezio pricked up his ears. Cesare? He’s here? he thought to himself, his mind racing as he went through the open doors into an entrance hall ablaze with light and, luckily, thronged with people.
The captain and the guard leader were still arguing about the extra patrol duty when a detachment of Papal city police came up to them on the double. They were out of breath and concern showed on their faces.
‘What is it, sergeant?’ the guard leader said to their commander.
‘Perdone, Colonnello, but we’ve just been on the beat near the Pantheon – the doors were open …’
‘And?’
‘So we investigated. I sent some men in …’
‘Spit it out, man.’
‘We found Messer Torcelli, sir. Murdered.’
‘Luigi?’ The guard leader turned to look up at the front door through which Ezio had just disappeared. ‘Nonsense. He arrived here a few minutes ago, with the money. There must be some mistake.’
32
Ezio, after having quickly and discreetly divested himself of Luigi’s outer garments and hidden them behind a column, made his way through the crowd of richly attired guests, many of whom wore masks, keeping a close eye on the guards with the box of money. He drew nearer to them as they approached an attendant in fine livery, to whom they handed it.
‘For the banker,’ said one of the guards.
The attendant nodded and, carrying the box with ease, turned to make his way towards the back of the hall. Ezio was about to follow when he was joined by three girls who brushed against him. Their dress was as opulent as that of the other guests, but their décolleté left little to the imagination. With a shock of surprise and pleasure, Ezio recognized them as courtesans from The Rosa in Fiore. He’d obviously underestimated his sister. No wonder she was so furious with him.
‘We’ll take over from here, Ezio,’ said one of the girls.
‘It wouldn’t do for you to get too close,’ said a second. ‘But keep us in sight.’
They swanned off after the attendant and soon caught up with him, at which point one of them engaged him in conversation.
‘Hi there,’ she said.
‘Hello,’ replied the man guardedly. But it wasn’t much fun being at such a party and yet having to be on duty.
‘Mind if I walk with you? All these people! It’s hard to get through them with any speed.’
‘Sure. I mean, I don’t mind if you want to keep me company.’
‘I’ve never been here before.’
‘Where did you come from?’
‘Trastevere.’ She shuddered theatrically. ‘You have to pass some of the old ruins to get here. They make me nervous.’
‘You’re safe here.’
‘With you, you mean?’
The attendant smiled. ‘I could protect you, if the need arose.’
‘I bet you could.’ She looked at the box. ‘My, what a fine chest you have there.’
‘It isn’t mine.’
‘Oh, but you’re holding it in those strong arms of yours. What muscles you must have.’
‘Want to touch them?’
‘Santò cielo! But what would I tell the priest in Confession?’
By now they had arrived at an iron-bound door flanked by two guards. Ezio watched as one of them knocked. A moment later, the door was opened and a figure in the red robes of a cardinal appeared in the entrance, with an attendant similarly dressed to the first.
‘Here is the money you were expecting, Your Eminence,’ said the first attendant, handing the box to the second.
Ezio drew in his breath, his thoughts had been confirmed. The banker was none other than Juan Borgia the Elder, Archbishop of Monreale and Cardinal-Priest of Santa Susanna. The selfsame man he had seen in Cesare’s company at Monteriggioni and in the stable yard at the Castel Sant’Angelo!
‘Good,’ said the banker, whose black eyes glittered in his sallow face. He was eyeing the girl, who stood close to the first attendant. ‘I’ll take her, too, I think.’
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him, looking levelly at the first attendant. ‘As for you, you are dismissed.’
‘Onoratissima!’ said the girl, willingly snuggling up to the banker as the attendant tried to control the expression on his face. The second attendant disappeared into the room beyond the door, closing it behind him, as the banker led the girl back into the party.
The first attendant watched them go, then gave a resigned sigh. He started to leave, but then stopped, patting himself down. ‘My coin purse! What’s happened to it?’ he muttered, then looked in the direction the banker had gone with the girl. They were surrounded by laughing guests, amongst whom agile servants moved with silver trays loaded with food and drink. ‘Oh shit!’ he said to himself, and made his way back towards the front doors which, as he passed through them, closed behind him. Evidently all the guests had arrived. Ezio watched him go and thought, If they continue to treat people like that, I should have no trouble mustering all the new recruits I need.
Ezio turned and pushed his way through to a position close to the banker just as a herald appeared on a gallery and a trumpeter blew a short fanfare to make silence for him.
‘Eminenze, signore, signori,’ announced the herald. ‘Our esteemed lord, and guest of honour, the Duke of Valence and Romagna, Captain-General of the Papal Forze Armate, Prince of Andria and Venafro, Count of Dyois and Lord of Piombino, Camerino and Urbino – His Grace Messer Cesare Borgia – is about to honour us with an address in the Great Inner Chamber.’
‘Come on, my dear, you shall sit near me,’ the banker said to the courtesan from The Rosa in Fi
ore, his bony hand snaking round her buttocks. Joining the press of people that now moved obediently through the double doors that led to the inner chamber, Ezio followed. He noticed that the other two girls were not far away, but were sensibly ignoring him. He wondered how many other allies his sister had managed to infiltrate into this gathering. If she succeeded in all he had asked her to do, he would have to do more than eat humble pie, but he also felt proud and reassured.
Ezio took a seat on an aisle near the middle of the assembly. Papal guards lined the edges of the room, and another row stood in front of the dais that had been erected at one end of it. Once everyone had settled, the women fanning themselves, for the room was hot, a familiar figure in black strode onto the dais. He was accompanied, Ezio noticed, by his father, although Rodrigo simply took a seat behind him. To his relief, Lucrezia was nowhere to be seen, though she must have been released by now.
‘Welcome, my friends,’ said Cesare, smiling a little. ‘I know we all have a long night ahead of us.’ He paused for the laughter and scattered applause. ‘But I will not detain you long. My friends, I am honoured that the Cardinal of Santa Susanna has gone to so much trouble to help me celebrate my recent victories.’
Applause.
‘And what better way shall I have to mark them than by joining in the brotherhood of Man? Soon we will gather here again for an even greater gala, for then we shall be celebrating a united Italy. Then, my friends, the feasting and revelry will last not one night, or two, or even five, six or seven – we shall spend forty days and nights in celebration.’
Ezio saw the Pope stiffen at this, but Rodrigo said nothing; he did not interrupt. The speech, as Cesare had promised, was a short one, amounting to a list of the new city states brought under his sway, and a vague outline of his plans for future conquests. When it was over, amid loud shouts of approval and applause, Cesare turned to go, but his way was blocked by Rodrigo, who was clearly struggling to suppress his fury. Ezio made his way forward to listen to the terse conversation that had started, sotto voce, between father and son. As for the other revellers, they had begun to drift back to the main hall, their minds already on the pleasures of the party ahead.
‘We did not agree to conquer all Italy,’ Rodrigo was saying, his voice full of spite.
‘But, caro padre, if your brilliant Captain-General says we can do it, why not rejoice and let it happen?’
‘You risk ruining everything! You risk upsetting the delicate balance of power we have worked so hard to maintain.’
Cesare’s lip curled. ‘I appreciate all that you have done for me, of course, caro padre, but do not forget that I control the army now, and that means that I make the decisions.’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘Don’t look so glum. Enjoy yourself!’
With that, Cesare left the dais and went through a curtained door to one side. Rodrigo watched him go for a moment then, muttering to himself, followed.
Strut as much as you like for now, Cesare, thought Ezio. I’ll pluck you down. In the meantime, your banker must pay the price for his involvement with you.
Putting on the air of any other party guest, he sauntered in the same direction as the others. During the speech, the main hall had been transformed – beds and couches were placed around it under heavy canopies, and the floor had been covered with damask cushions and thick Persian rugs. Servants still passed among the guests, providing wine, but the guests had become more interested in one another. All over the room, men and women were shedding their clothes, in pairs, threesomes, foursomes and more. The smell of sweat rose with the heat.
Several women and not a few men, some not yet engaged in the fun and games, gave Ezio the eye, but few paid any serious attention to him as he made his way, using the columns of the room for cover, towards the banker, who had now shed his biretta, his magnificent ferraiolo and his cassock to reveal a spindly figure in a white cotton shirt and woollen long johns. He and the girl were half sitting, half lying on a canopied couch set into an alcove, more or less hidden from the view of the rest of the guests. Ezio drew near.
‘And are you having a pleasant evening, my dear?’ the banker was saying, his gnarled hands fiddling clumsily with the stays of her dress.
‘Yes, Eminenza, indeed I am. There is so much to look at.’
‘Oh, good. I spared no expense, you know.’ His lips slobbered over her neck. He bit and sucked, moving her hand lower.
‘I can tell,’ she replied, her eyes meeting Ezio’s over the banker’s shoulder and warning him to stay back for the moment.
‘Yes, sweetheart, the finer things in life make power so rewarding. If I see an apple growing on a tree, I simply pluck it. No one can stop me.’
‘Well,’ said the girl. ‘I suppose is does depend a bit on whose tree it is.’
The banker cackled. ‘You don’t seem to understand: all the trees are owned by me.’
‘Not mine, my dear.’
The banker drew back a little, and when he spoke again, frost had crept into his voice, ‘On the contrary, tesora, I saw you steal my attendant’s purse. I believe I’ve earned a free ride for your penance. In fact, I’m taking a free ride that’ll last all night long.’
‘Free?’ Ezio hoped the girl wasn’t pushing her luck. He glanced around the room. The few guards were stationed round its perimeter at intervals of perhaps fifteen feet, but none of them near. The banker, on his own ground, was clearly sure of himself. Perhaps a little too sure.
‘That’s what I said,’ replied the banker, the ghost of menace in his tone. Then a new thought struck him. ‘Do you have a sister by any chance?’
‘No, but I have a daughter.’
The banker considered this. ‘Three hundred ducats?’
‘Seven.’
‘You drive a hard bargain, but … done. A pleasure doing business with you.’
33
As the evening wore on, Ezio listened to the voices around him – ‘Do it again!’ ‘No, no, you’re hurting me!’ ‘No, you can’t do that. I won’t allow it!’ – and all the sounds of pain and pleasure – the pain real, the pleasure simulated.
The banker was not running out of steam, unfortunately, and, having lost patience fumbling with her, started to tear the girl’s dress off her. She still implored Ezio with her eyes to hold his ground. ‘I can handle this,’ she seemed to be saying to him.
He looked around the room again. Some of the servants and most of the guards had been inveigled by the guests to join in the fun, and he noticed people wielding wooden and ivory dildos, and little black whips.
Soon …
‘Come here, my dear,’ the banker was saying, pushing the girl back down onto the couch and, managing to straddle her, pushing himself into her. Then his hands closed round her neck and he started to strangle her. Choking, she struggled, then fainted.
‘Oh yes! That’s nice!’ he gasped, the veins in his neck bulging. His fingers tightened round the girl’s neck. ‘This should increase your pleasure. It certainly increases mine.’ A minute later he had finished and lay heavily on her body, slipping on their sweat as he caught his breath.
He had not killed the girl. Ezio could see the rise and fall of her chest.
The banker clawed his way to his feet, leaving her prostrate form half-on, half-off the couch.
He snapped out an order to a pair of servants who were still on duty nearby: ‘Get rid of her.’
As the banker moved towards the main orgy, Ezio and the servants watched him go. As soon as he was at a safe distance and otherwise occupied, the servants lifted the girl gently onto the couch, placed a carafe of water near her and covered her with a fur rug. One of them noticed Ezio. Ezio put a finger to his lips and the man smiled and nodded. At least there was some good in this fetid hellhole.
Ezio shadowed the banker as he pulled up his long johns and moved from group to group, muttering his appreciation like a connoisseur in an art gallery.
‘Oh, bellissima,’ he would say from time to time, stopping to w
atch, then he made for the iron-bound door he’d originally appeared from and knocked on it. It was opened from within by the second attendant, who’d almost certainly been spending all that time verifying the new accounts.
Ezio didn’t give them a chance to close the door behind them; he leapt forward and pushed both men back inside. Ezio closed the door and faced them. The attendant, a little man in his shirtsleeves, burbled and fell to his knees, a dark stain flowering between his legs, before he fainted. The banker drew himself up.
‘You!’ he said. ‘Assassino! But not for much longer.’ His arm snaked out to a bell pull, but Ezio was quicker. The Hidden Blade sprang out and slashed through the fingers of the hand the banker had extended. The banker snatched his maimed hand back as three fingers scattered onto the carpet. ‘Stay back!’ he screamed. ‘Kill me and it’ll do no good. Cesare will never let you live. But—’
‘Yes?’
The man’s face became sly. ‘If you spare me …’
Ezio smiled. The banker understood. He nursed his ruined hand.
‘Well,’ he said, though tears of pain and rage were starting in his eyes. ‘At least I have lived. The things I have seen, felt, tasted. I regret none of them. I do not regret a moment of my life.’
‘You have played with the trinkets power brings. A man of real strength would be contemptuous of such things.’
‘I gave the people what they wanted.’
‘You delude yourself.’
‘Spare me.’
‘Your own debt is due, Eminenza. Unearned pleasure only consumes itself.’
The banker fell to his knees, mumbling half-remembered prayers.
Ezio raised the Hidden Blade.
‘Requiescat in Pace,’ he said.
He left the door open when he departed. The orgy had declined to some sleepy, smelly groping. One or two of the guests, supported by servants, were vomiting, while another pair of servants carried out a corpse: it had evidently all been too much for someone’s heart. There was no one left on guard.
‘We are ready,’ said a voice at his elbow. He turned to see Claudia. Around the room, a dozen girls disentangled themselves and stood. Among them, dressed once more and looking shaken but otherwise fine, was the girl the banker had molested so vilely. The servants who had helped her stood beside her. More recruits.
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