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Assassin’s Creed® Page 134

by Oliver Bowden


  As they gathered pace, Sofia leaned from the window and blew him a kiss. He raised his arm in farewell then, without waiting to watch them out of sight, returned to the villa and closed and locked the door.

  89

  Ezio and Jun sat facing each other on wooden benches, drawn up in front of a roaring fire. Waiting.

  ‘When I first fought the Borgia, it was revenge that drove me, and my first impulse was to aim for the head,’ Ezio was telling her. ‘In time, however, I learned that those who inspire fear have more devoted followers than those who preach love. Killing Rodrigo and Cesare would have achieved nothing if I had not been able to replace their reign of terror with one that involved some measure of fraternity.’ He paused in thought. ‘So I spent many years teaching men and women to think and act for themselves. First in Rome, and then among our Brotherhood in Constantinople.’

  ‘I long to read of your deeds. You must finish your book.’

  ‘The important thing to realize is this: love binds our Order together; love of people, of cultures, of the world.’ He was silent again for a moment. ‘Fight to preserve that which inspires hope, and you will win back your people, Shao Jun.’

  Jun stared into the flames, thinking, as the grand scope of her future widened in her imagination. ‘It will take a long, long time,’ she said quietly, at last.

  ‘But if you do it right, it will happen.’

  Jun took a deep breath and straightened up, a determined expression on her face. She looked at Ezio and nodded. He leant across and patted her on the shoulder.

  ‘Get some rest,’ he said.

  She rose, and bowed slightly, then left the room.

  Ezio turned to the fire, its glow reddening his face.

  Deep in the night, disturbed by stealthy sounds outside, Ezio made his way to the kitchens. From high in the sky, the moon shone through the barred windows. Ezio approached the knife blocks and pulled several knives out, testing them for balance. Not satisfied, he put them back and cast around for some other weapon. An iron ladle? No. A chopping board? No. A poker, perhaps? Yes! He went over to the stove and picked one out, three feet long and made of heavy steel. He tested it, making two or three practice passes with it.

  He tensed at a noise from above. Seconds later, a body dropped past the window. Ezio saw Jun land in a crouch, then bolt into the night. He made for the door and unlocked it, flinging it open.

  A Chinese man stood there, poised for attack, who instantly lunged at him with a dao. Ezio stepped back and slammed the door on the man’s arm, smashing the radius and ulna. The sword dropped from his hand, as the Chinese howled in agony. Ezio threw the door open again and brought the poker down hard on the man’s head, splitting the skull. He jumped over the corpse, and dashed outside.

  He soon found Jun, engaged in combat with three attackers. It was going badly for her but he’d arrived in time to turn the tide, and the servants of the Jiajing Emperor retreated in the direction of the vineyard. There, they took a stand. Jun, fighting with only her fists and feet, took one of their opponents out almost immediately. Ezio brought down a second with his poker, ramming its point squarely into his attacker’s face. But the third Chinese managed to knock the poker from his grasp, and it was only by reaching out fast for a wooden dowel, which he plucked from the vines, that he managed to regain his advantage, beating the man to the ground and then striking him hard on the nape of the neck, crushing the cervical vertebrae.

  It was over. Ezio collapsed on the gentle slope among his vines, exhausted but uninjured. He caught Jun’s eye and tried to laugh, but his laughter turned into a wheezing cough.

  ‘I sound like a dying cat,’ he said.

  ‘Come on, I’ll help you.’

  She helped him to his feet, and together they returned to the villa.

  90

  They were awake long before break of day. The morning was cool. Some watery sunlight found its way through the haze.

  Shao Jun stood in the road, her pack on her back. Staring into the distance, she was ready to depart. She seemed lost in thought, and only turned when Ezio approached from the villa. His breathing was still laboured and heavy.

  He came up to her. ‘It is a long way home, no?’

  ‘But there is much to see along the way. Dashi, xièxiè nin – thank you, Mentor.’ She bowed slightly.

  Ezio was carrying something. A small ancient box. He held it out to her. ‘Here. This may be of use one day.’

  Jun took it, and turned it in her hands. She began to open it, but Ezio stopped her.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Only if you lose your way.’

  She packed it away. Ezio squinted past Jun, peering up the road. He saw the banners of approaching soldiers.

  ‘You should go,’ he said.

  Jun followed his gaze, nodded, and set off towards the vineyards that grew on the other side of the road. Ezio watched her as she made her way quickly over the brow of a nearby hill.

  The soldiers rode up soon afterwards, and Ezio greeted them. When he looked in Jun’s direction once more, she had disappeared.

  A few weeks later, the harvest done, and Marcello’s ninth birthday behind them, he was back in his den, trying to write again. He hadn’t made bad progress this time. He stared at the last blank sheet in front of him, then dipped his quill, and scribbled a few words, concentrating hard. He read them back, and smiled. Then he dropped his quill as a shooting pain in his chest caught him off guard.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, collecting himself, and replacing the quill in its stand by the inkwell.

  Sofia entered the room.

  ‘Just taking the children down to Fiesole. We’ll be back just after dark.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Market day tomorrow. Are you coming with us?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  She closed the door behind her. Ezio sat brooding for a moment, then, satisfied, began gathering the papers on his desk, stacking them neatly, and tying a ribbon round them.

  91

  The next day was fine and fresh. They had stayed in Florence for lunch, and now Sofia was bent on making just a few more purchases before the journey home. Ezio, walking down the street a few paces behind his wife and children, suddenly winced as a fit of coughing took him. He leant against a wall for support.

  In a moment Sofia was by his side.

  ‘You should have stayed at home.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I am home.’

  ‘Sit down, here.’ She indicated a nearby bench. ‘Wait for us. We’ll be right over there. Only take a minute or two.’

  He nodded, watching her rejoin the children and wander off a little farther down the street. He made himself comfortable, letting the pain subside.

  He watched the people walking to and fro, going about their daily business. He felt pleased, and enjoyed watching them. He breathed in the smells of the market as it broke up around him. He listened to the sound the traders made.

  ‘I love it here,’ he said to himself. Home. Home at last.

  His reverie was interrupted by the peevish voice of a young Italian who plumped himself down on the bench near him. The young man was talking, apparently, to himself. He didn’t look at Ezio.

  ‘Al diavolo! I hate this damn city. I wish I were in Rome! I hear the women there are … mmm … like ripe Sangiovese on the vine, you know? Not like here. Firenze!’ He spat on the ground.

  Ezio looked at him. ‘I don’t think Florence is your problem,’ he remarked, distressed at what the young man had said.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Ezio was about to reply, but the pain seized him again. He winced and started to gasp. The young man turned to him. ‘Steady, old man.’

  He grabbed Ezio’s wrist as Ezio caught his breath. Looking down at the hand that held him, Ezio thought the grip was uncommonly strong, and there was something strange, almost familiar, about the man’s expression.
But he was probably imagining it all. He shook his head to clear it.

  The young man looked at Ezio closely, and smiled. Ezio returned the look.

  ‘Get some rest, eh?’ the young man said.

  He rose to his feet and walked away. Ezio nodded in belated agreement, watching him go. Then he leant back, seeking Sofia in the thinning crowd. He saw her at a stall, buying vegetables. And there beside her were Flavia and Marcello, baiting each other, playing together.

  He closed his eyes, and took some deep breaths. His breathing calmed. The young man was right. He should get some rest …

  Sofia was packing the vegetables she’d bought into a basket when something cold crept into her heart. She looked up, and then back to where Ezio sat. There was something about the way he was sitting. Confused, not wanting to admit what she feared to herself, she put a hand to her mouth, and hurried across to him, leaving the children playing where they were.

  As she got closer, she slowed her pace. She finally sat down by his side, taking his hand, and then she leant forward, pressing her forehead against his hair.

  One or two people looked in their direction, and then one or two more with concern but, otherwise, life in the street went on.

  92

  Much later that day, back home, and having sent Machiavelli away, Sofia took herself into the den. The children were in bed. She didn’t think what had happened had sunk in for them, yet.

  In the den the fire had gone out. She lit a candle and walked to the desk, picking up the neatly stacked sheaf of papers, tied with a ribbon, which lay on it. She began to read:

  When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it; I had time, but I did not know it; and I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. And now, in the twilight of my life, this understanding has passed into contentment. Love, liberty and time, once so much at my disposal, are the fuels that drive me forward. Love, most especially, my dearest, for you, our children, our brothers and sisters … and for the vast and wonderful world that gave us life and keeps us guessing. With endless affection, my Sofia, I am forever yours.

  Ezio Auditore

  Glossary of Italian, Greek, Chinese and Turkish Terms

  a presto see you soon

  adi herif pig

  al diavolo to the Devil

  affedersiniz excuse me

  affedersiniz, efendim excuse me, sir

  akçe old Turkish coin

  Allah ashkina God willing

  Allaha ismarladik! may God bless you!

  aman Allahim oh dear!

  amore love

  apistefto unbelievable

  arrocco castling

  aynen oyle exactly

  ballata ballad

  bastardo bastard

  bene good

  beyfendi your excellence

  bir sey degil you’re welcome

  bistecca alla fiorentina Florentine steak

  brutti ma buoni ugly but good

  buffone idiot

  buon giorno good day

  buona donna good lady

  buona sera good evening

  canaglia scoundrel

  carciofini sott’olio baby artichokes cooked in olive oil

  castagnaccio chestnut

  cazzo dick/shit

  che sucede? what’s happening?

  çok üzüldüm very good

  dao sabre

  dashi, xièxiè nin thank you, Mentor

  dio mio my god

  duìbùqi I’m sorry

  duomo cathedral

  è incredibile it’s incredible

  edáxi ok

  efendim sir/mister

  evet yes

  fettunta garlic bread

  finito finished

  fratello mio my brother

  fuori outside/get out!

  Gennaio January

  gerzek fool

  ghazi holy warrior

  Giugno June

  grazie thank you

  güle güle very good

  güzel excellent

  hajj pilgrimage

  haydi rastgele good luck

  hristé mou goodness me!

  il diavolo the Devil

  inanilmaz incredible

  janbiyah Arab dagger, with a curved, broad blade

  kanun law

  karesi square

  kargasha mayhem

  kesinlikle absolutely

  kouráyo courage

  kyrie Lord

  la Crociata Segreta the Secret Crusade

  levatrice midwife

  ling chi death of a thousand cuts

  lokanta cafe/restaurant

  maccaroin in brodo maccaroni soup

  magnetismo magnetism

  masa’il kher good evening

  merda shit

  merhaba welcome

  messer sir

  mia cara my dear

  mio bel menestrello my handsome minstrel

  mio principe my prince

  moleche soft-shelled crab

  molto curioso very curious

  nessun problema no problem

  pandiramerino rosemary bread

  panzanella bread and tomato salad

  pecorino a type of cheese

  pek güzel quite beautiful

  pekala all right

  perdonate, buon signore pardon me, good sir

  perfetto perfect

  piena di vita full of life

  poi kalà very good

  prens prince

  prego please

  presuntuoso presumptuous (person)

  principe prince

  qián coin

  raccolto harvest

  ragazzo boy/kid

  requiescat in Pace rest in peace

  rixoto de gò goby risotto

  sagliginiza! see you soon!

  salame toscano Tuscan salami

  salsicce di cinghiale wild boar sausage

  salute a voi, Assassini greetings, Assassins

  salve hi

  sayin da Vinci bey Mr da Vinci, sir

  se solo if only!

  serefe! cheers!

  sharbat sherbet

  shehzad/shehzadem prince

  sì yes

  sì, da molto tempo yes, a long time

  sinav icin iyi sanslar! good luck to you, my friend

  souk market/bazaar

  sövalye knight

  spaghetti allo scoglio seafood pasta

  tesekkür ederim thank you

  Tesekkür, Mentor. Chok tesekkür ederim! Thank you, mentor. Thank you very much.

  tesoro my darling

  ti distihìa what misery

  tonno al cartoccio freshly baked tuna in breadcrumbs

  un favore a favour

  una tortura torture

  va bene all right

  vendange grape harvest

  veraison grape-ripening

  List of Characters

  Abbas: enemy of Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad

  Al Mualim: Mentor of the Brotherhood in the twelfth century

  al-Scarab: pirate captain, scourge of the White Sea

  Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad: Mentor of the Assassins

  Bartolomeo d’Alviano: friend of Ezio

  Bekir: Larnaka agent

  Captain Tarik Barleti: Captain of the Sultan’s bodyguard the Janissaries

  Claudia Auditore: Ezio’s sister

  Darim: Maria and Altaïr’s son

  Dilara: Tarik’s principal agent

  Dogan: Assassin lieutenant to Yusuf

  Domenico Garofoli: governor of Cyprus

  Duccio Dovizi

  Ezio Auditore da Firenze: the Mentor

  Haras: traitor to the Brotherhood in the twelfth century

  Leonardo da Vinci: artist, scientist, sculptor, etc., 1452–1519

  Ma’Mun: shipping agent

  Manuel Palaiologos: Byzantine prince, heir of the last Byzantine emperor, would be emperor

  Maria Thorpe: Altaïr’s English wife

  Niccolò di
Bernardo dei Machiavelli: Assassin, philosopher and writer, 1469–1527

  Piri Reis: admiral and manager of the Turkish merchant fleet

  Prince Ahmet Osman: Prince Suleiman’s uncle, the Sultan’s favourite son

  Prince Selim Osman: Prince Suleiman’s father and brother to Ahmet

  Prince Suleiman Osman: Sultan Bayezid’s grandson and Governor of Kefe

  Shahkulu: Manuel’s bodyguard and Türkmeni renegade

  Sofia Sartor: bookshop owner

  Sultan Bayezid

  Yusuf Tazim: Leader of the Istanbul Assassins

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to

  Yves Guillemot

  Jean Guesdon

  Corey May

  Darby McDevitt

  And also

  Alain Corre

  Laurent Detoc

  Sébastien Puel

  Geoffroy Sardin

  Xavier Guilbert

  Tommy François

  Cecile Russeil

  Christele Jalady

  The Ubisoft Legal department

  Chris Marcus

  Etienne Allonier

  Maria Loreto

  Alex Clarke

  Alice Shepherd

  Anton Gill

  Guillaume Carmona

  Clémence Deleuze

  Oliver Bowden

  * * *

  ASSASSIN’S CREED®

  Forsaken

  Contents

  Prologue

  Part One: Extracts from the Journal of Haytham E. Kenway

  6 December 1735

  7 December 1735

  8 December 1735

  9 December 1735

  10 December 1735

  11 December 1735

  Part Two: 1747, Twelve Years Later

  10 June 1747

  11 June 1747

  18 June 1747

  20 June 1747

  2-3 July 1747

  14 July 1747

  15 July 1747

  16 July 1747

  17 July 1747

  Part Three: 1753, Six Years Later

  7 June 1753

  25 June 1753

  12 August 1753

  18 April 1754

  8 July 1754

  10 July 1754

  13 July 1754

  14 July 1754

  15 November 1754

  8 July 1755

  9 July 1755

  10 July 1755

 

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