Renaissance

by Oliver Bowden

  17

  ‘Ezio! How long has it been?’ Leonardo greeted him like a long-lost brother. His workshop in Venice had taken on all the look of his workshop in Florence, but dominating it was a full-scale version of the bat-like machine whose purpose, Ezio now knew, was one which he had to take seriously. But first things first, for Leonardo.

  ‘Listen, Ezio, you sent me via a very nice man called Ugo another Codex page, but you never followed up on it. Have you been that busy?’

  ‘I have rather had my hands full,’ replied Ezio, remembering the page he had taken from Emilio Barbarigo’s effects.

  ‘Well, here it is.’ Leonardo rummaged in the apparent chaos of his room, but quickly came up with the neatly rolled Codex page, its seal restored. ‘There’s no new weapon-design on this one, but from the look of the symbols and the manuscript writing on it, which I believe to be Aramaic or even Babylonian, it will be a significant page in whatever jigsaw puzzle you are assembling. I think I recognize traces of a map.’ He held up his hand. ‘But tell me nothing! I am only interested in the inventions these pages you bring me reveal. More than that, I do not care to know. A man like me is only immune from danger according to his usefulness; but if it were discovered that he knew too much –’ And Leonardo expressively slit his throat with his finger. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he continued. ‘I know you by now, Ezio, your visits are never simply social. Have a glass of this rather awful Veneto – give me Chianti any day – and there are some fishcakes somewhere or other, if you’re hungry.’

  ‘Have you completed your commission?’

  ‘The Conte is a patient man. Salute!’ Leonardo raised his glass.

  ‘Leo – does this machine of yours actually work?’ asked Ezio.

  ‘You mean, does it fly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Leonardo rubbed his chin. ‘Well, it’s still in the early stages. I mean, it’s nowhere near ready yet – but I think, in all modesty, that – yes! Of course it will work. God knows I’ve spent enough time on it! It’s an idea that just won’t let go of me!’

  ‘Leo – can I try it?’

  Leonardo looked shocked. ‘Of course you can’t! Are you mad? It’s far too dangerous. For a start, we’d have to get it to the top of a tower to launch you…’

  The following day, before dawn, but just as the first streaks of greyish pink were colouring the eastern horizon, Leonardo and his assistants, having dismantled the flying-machine in order to transport it, had reconstructed it on the flat high roof of the Ca’ Pexaro, the family mansion of Leonardo’s unsuspecting employer. Ezio was with them. Beneath them, the city slept. There were not even any guards on the roofs of the Palazzo Ducale, for this was the Hour of the Wolf, when vampires and spectres were most powerful. No one but madmen and scientists would venture forth at such a time.

  ‘It’s ready,’ said Leonardo. ‘And thank God the coast is clear. If anyone saw this thing they’d never believe their eyes – and if they knew it was my invention I’d be finished in this town.’

  ‘I’ll be quick,’ said Ezio.

  ‘Try not to break it,’ said Leonardo.

  ‘This is a test flight,’ said Ezio. ‘I’ll go easy. Just tell me again how this bambina works.’

  ‘Have you ever watched a bird in flight?’ asked Leonardo. ‘It’s not about being lighter than air, it’s about grace and balance! You must simply use your bodyweight to control your elevation and direction, and the wings will carry you.’ Leonardo’s face was very serious. He squeezed Ezio’s arm. ‘Buona fortuna, my friend. You are – I hope – about to make history.’

  Leonardo’s assistants strapped Ezio carefully into position below the machine. The bat-like wings stretched out above him. He was secured face forwards in a tight leather cradle, though his arms and legs were free, and before him was a horizontal crossbar of wood, attached to the main wooden frame which held the wings aloft. ‘Remember what I told you! Side-to-side controls the rudder. To-and-fro controls the angle of the wings,’ Leonardo explained earnestly.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ezio, breathing hard. He knew that if this didn’t work, in a moment he’d be taking the last leap of his life.

  ‘Go with God,’ said Leonardo.

  ‘See you later,’ said Ezio with a confidence he didn’t really feel. He balanced the contraption over him, settled, and took a run off the edge of the roof.

  His stomach left him first, and then there was a feeling of wonderful exhilaration. Venice reeled beneath him as he tumbled and rolled, but then the machine started to tremble, and fall down the sky. It was only by keeping his head, and remembering Leonardo’s instructions regarding the use of the joystick, that Ezio was able to right the craft and guide it back – just – to the Pexaro palace roof. He landed the strange craft at a running pace – using all his strength and agility to keep it stable.

  ‘Christ Almighty, it worked!’ yelled Leonardo, careless of security for a moment, unravelling Ezio from the machine and hugging him frantically. ‘You wonderful man! You flew!’

  ‘Yes, by God, so I did,’ said Ezio, breathless. ‘But not as far as I need to go.’ And his eyes sought out the Doge’s Palace and the courtyard that was his goal. He was also thinking of how little time he had, if the murder of Mocenigo was to be averted.

  Later, back in Leonardo’s workshop, Ezio and the artist-inventor gave the machine a careful overhaul. Leonardo had his blueprints laid out on a large trestle table.

  ‘Let me look over my plans here. Maybe I can find something, some way to extend the duration of the flight.’

  They were interrupted by the hasty arrival of Antonio. ‘Ezio! I am so sorry to disturb you but this is important! My spies tell me that Silvio has obtained the poison they need, and he’s handed it over to Grimaldi.’

  But just then Leonardo shouted in despair. ‘It’s no good! I’ve been over it and over it and it just won’t work! I don’t know how to extend the flight. Oh, bugger it!’ He swept papers angrily off the table. Some of them wafted into the large fireplace nearby, and as they burned, rose. Leonardo watched, his expression clearing, and at last a broad smile cleared the anger from his face. ‘My God!’ he cried, ‘Eureka! Of course! Genius!’

  He snatched the papers that weren’t already burnt out of the fire and stamped the flames out. ‘Never give in to your temper,’ he advised them. ‘It can be terribly counter-productive.’

  ‘So what’s cured yours?’ asked Antonio.

  ‘Look!’ Leonardo said. ‘Did you not see the ashes rise? Heat lifts things up! How often have I seen eagles high in the air, not flapping their wings at all, and yet staying aloft! The principle is simple! All we have to do is apply it!’

  He reached for a map of Venice and spread it out on the table. Leaning over it with a pencil, he marked out the distance between the Palazzo Pexaro and the Palazzo Ducale, putting crosses at key points between the two buildings. ‘Antonio!’ he cried. ‘Can you get your people to build bonfires at each of the places I’ve marked, and light them in a close sequence?’

  Antonio studied the map. ‘I think we could arrange that – but why?’

  ‘Do you not see? This is Ezio’s flight path! The fires will carry my flying machine and him all the way to his target! Heat rises!’

  ‘What about the guards?’said Ezio.

  Antonio looked at him. ‘You’ll be flying that thing. For once, leave the guards to us. In any case,’ he added, ‘some of them at least will be busy elsewhere. My spies tell me there’s a curious shipment of coloured powder in little tubes which has just arrived from a country far away to the east called China. God knows what it is but it must be valuable, they’re taking such good care of it.’

  ‘Fireworks,’ said Leonardo to himself.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  *

  Antonio’s men had the fires Leonardo had ordered built and ready by dusk. They had also cleared the areas around them of any watchmen or idle bystanders who might be inclined to warn the authori
ties of what was afoot. Leonardo’s assistants had meanwhile transported the flying-machine to the Pexaro roof once more, and Ezio, armed with his spring-blade and arm-guard, had taken up his position in it. Antonio stood nearby.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ he said.

  ‘It’s the only way to get into the palace. You said so yourself.’

  ‘I never dreamed this could actually happen, though. I still find it almost impossible to believe. If God had meant us to fly –’

  ‘Are you ready to give the signal to your men, Antonio?’ asked Leonardo.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Then do so now, and we’ll get Ezio airborne.’

  Antonio walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. Then he took out a large red handkerchief and waved it. Far below they could see first one, then two, three, four and five huge bonfires leap into flame.

  ‘Excellent, Antonio. My congratulations.’ Leonardo turned to Ezio. ‘Now, remember what I told you. You must fly from fire to fire. The heat of each one as you pass over it should keep you in the air all the way to the Ducal Palace.’

  ‘And be careful,’ said Antonio. ‘There are archers posted on the roofs and they’ll certainly shoot as soon as they see you. They’ll think you’re some demon from hell.’

  ‘I wish there was some way I could use my sword at the same time as flying this thing.’

  ‘Your feet are free,’ said Leonardo thoughtfully. ‘If you manage to steer close enough to the archers and avoid their arrows, you might be able to kick them off the rooftops.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘And now you must go. Good luck!’

  Ezio sailed off the roof into the night sky, setting a course for the first fire. He was beginning to lose height as he approached, but then, as he reached it, he felt the machine lift again. Leonardo’s theory worked! On he flew, and he could see the thieves tending the bonfires look up and cheer. But the thieves were not the only ones aware of him. Ezio could see Barbarigo archers posted on the cathedral roof and on the other buildings near the Doge’s Palace. He managed to manoeuvre the flying-machine out of the way of most of the arrows, though one or two thudded into its wooden frame, and he also managed to swoop low enough to knock a handful of bowmen off their perches. But as he approached the Palace itself, the Doge’s own guards opened fire and they were using fire-arrows. One caught in the starboard wing of the machine and it immediately burst into flames. It was all Ezio could do to keep on course, and he was losing height fast. He saw a pretty young noblewoman looking up and screaming something about the devil having come to claim her, but then he was past. He let go of the controls and fumbled with the harness buckles which held him in. At the last moment he wrenched himself free and leapt forwards and outwards, to land in a perfect crouch on an inner courtyard roof, past the grille which guarded the palace interior from all but the birds. Looking up, he saw the flying-machine crash into the campanile of St Mark’s and its wreckage fall to the square below, causing panic and pandemonium among the people there. Even the ducal archers’ attention was diverted, and Ezio took advantage of that to climb swiftly down and out of sight. As he did so, he saw Doge Mocenigo appear at a second-storey window.

  ‘Ma che cazzo?’ said the Doge. ‘What was that?’

  Carlo Grimaldi appeared at his elbow. ‘Probably just some youths with firecrackers. Come, finish your wine.’

  Hearing that, Ezio made his way via roofs and walls and, taking care to keep out of sight of the archers, to a spot just outside the open window. Looking in, he saw the Doge draining a goblet. He threw himself over the sill and into the room, exclaiming, ‘Stop, Altezza! Don’t drink – !’

  The Doge looked at him in astonishment as Ezio realized he had arrived a moment too late. Grimaldi smiled wanly. ‘Not quite your usual accursed good timing, young Assassin! Messer Mocenigo will be leaving us shortly. He’s drunk enough poison to fell a bull.’

  Mocenigo rounded on him. ‘What? What have you done?’

  Grimaldi made a gesture of regret. ‘You should have listened to me.’

  The Doge staggered and would have fallen if Ezio had not rushed forward to support him and guide him to a chair, where he sat down heavily.

  ‘Feel tired…’ said the Doge. ‘… Going dark…’

  ‘I am so sorry, Altezza,’ said Ezio helplessly.

  ‘About time you tasted failure,’ snarled Grimaldi at Ezio, before flinging open the door of the room and bellowing, ‘Guards! Guards! The Doge has been poisoned! I have the killer here!’

  Ezio sprang across the room and grabbed Grimaldi by the collar, dragging him back into the room, banging the door shut and locking it. Seconds later he heard the guards running up and hammering on it. He turned to Grimaldi. ‘Failure, eh? Then I’d better do something to make up for it.’ He released his spring-blade.

  Grimaldi smiled. ‘You can kill me,’ he said, ‘But you can never defeat the Templars.’

  Ezio plunged the dagger into Grimaldi’s heart. ‘Peace be with you,’ he said, coldly.

  ‘Good,’ said a feeble voice behind him. Looking round, Ezio saw that the Doge, though deadly pale, was still alive.

  ‘I’ll fetch help – a doctor,’ he said.

  ‘No – it’s too late for that. But I shall die happier for seeing my assassin go before me into the dark. Thank you.’ Mocenigo was struggling for breath. ‘I’d long suspected he was a Templar but I was too weak, too trusting… But look in his wallet. Take his papers. I don’t doubt that you’ll find something among them to help your own cause, and avenge my death.’

  Mocenigo was smiling as he spoke. Ezio watched as the smile froze on his lips, his eyes glazed, and his head lolled sideways. Ezio put a hand on the side of the Doge’s neck to ascertain that he was dead, that there was no pulse. Ezio drew his fingers over the dead man’s face to close his eyelids, muttered a few words of blessing, and hastily took and opened Grimaldi’s wallet. There, among a small sheaf of other documents, was another Codex page.

  The guards continued to hammer at the door, and now it was beginning to give. Ezio ran to the window and looked down. The courtyard was alive with guards. He’d have to take his chances on the roof. Climbing out of the window, he started to scale the wall above him as arrows hissed around his head, clattering against the stonework on either side of him. When he reached the roof he had to contend with more archers, but they were off guard and he was able to use the element of surprise to dispense with them. But he was confronted with another difficulty. The grille which had kept him out before now trapped him within! He ran up to it, and realized that it was designed only to keep people out – its spiked top curved outwards and downwards. If he could climb to the top, he could leap clear. Already he could hear the footfalls of many guards thundering up the stairs to the roof. Summoning all the strength his desperation could give him, he took a running jump and clambered to the top of the grille. The next moment he was safely on the other side of it and it was the guards who were trapped by it. They were too heavily armed to be able to scale it, and Ezio knew that in any case they lacked his agility. Running to the edge of the roof, he looked down, leapt across to the scaffolding erected along the cathedral wall, and shinned down it. Then he sped into St Mark’s Square and lost himself in the crowd.

  18

  The death of the Doge on the same night that the bizarre bird-demon appeared in the sky caused a great stir in Venice which lasted many weeks. Leonardo’s flying-machine had crashed into St Mark’s Square, already a conflagration, and had burnt to ashes, as no one would dare approach the strange contraption. In the meantime, the new Doge, Marco Barbarigo, was duly elected and took office. He swore a solemn public oath to track down the young assassin who had avoided capture and arrest by the skin of his teeth, and who had murdered that noble servant of the state, Carlo Grimaldi, and probably the old Doge too. Barbarigo and Ducal guards were to be seen at every street corner and they also patrolled the canals day and night.

  Ezio, on A
ntonio’s advice, lay low at his headquarters, but he was boiling with a frustration that wasn’t helped by the fact that Leonardo had temporarily left town in the entourage of his patron, the Conte de Pexaro. Even Rosa lacked the means to distract him.

  But soon, one day not far into the new year, Antonio called him to his office, greeting him with a broad smile. ‘Ezio! I have two pieces of good news for you. First of all, your friend Leonardo has returned. Secondly, it’s Carnevale! Nearly everyone is wearing a mask and so you –’ But Ezio was already halfway out of the room. ‘Hey! Where are you off to?’

  ‘To see Leonardo!’

  ‘Well, come back soon – there’s someone I want you to meet.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  Her name’s Sister Teodora.’

  ‘A nun?’

  ‘You’ll see!’

  Ezio made his way through the streets with his hood up over his head, making his way unobtrusively between the groups of extravagantly dressed and masked men and women who thronged the streets and the canals. He was keenly aware of the clusters of guards on duty as well. Marco Barbarigo was no more concerned about Grimaldi’s death than he was about the death of his predecessor, which he had helped to plan; and now that he had made a pious show of seeking out a culprit, he could let the matter drop with a good public conscience, and appear to scale down the costly public operation. But Ezio also knew that if the Doge could secretly trap and kill him, he would. As long as he was alive and could be a thorn in the Templars’ side, they would count him among their bitterest enemies. He would have to remain constantly on the lookout.

  He made his way to Leonardo’s workshop successfully, however, and entered it unseen.

  ‘It’s good to see you again,’ Leonardo greeted him. ‘This time I thought you were dead for sure. I heard no more of you, then there was all that business over Mocenigo and Grimaldi, then my patron took it into his head to travel and insisted I went with him – to Milan, as it happens – and I never have the leisure to rebuild my flying-machine because the Venetian Navy finally want me to start designing stuff for them – it’s all very vexing!’ Then he smiled. ‘But the main thing is, you are alive and well!’