Before Francesco could recover, Ezio stamped on his hand, making him let go of the hilt, grabbed him by the shoulder and heaved him over on to his back. As he struggled to get up, Ezio kicked him brutally in the face. Francesco's eyes rolled as he struggled into unconsciousness. Ezio knelt down and proceeded to frisk the old man while he was half-awake, ripping off body-armour and his doublet, revealing the pale, wiry body beneath. But there were no documents, nothing of importance on him. Just a handful of florins in his purse.
Ezio flung aside his sword and released his spring-blade dagger. He knelt, put an arm under Francesco's neck and pulled him up so that their faces were almost touching.
Francesco's eyelids flickered open. His eyes expressed horror and fear. 'Spare me!' he managed to croak.
At that moment a great cry of victory rose from the courtyard below. Ezio listened to the voices, and caught enough to understand that the Pazzi had been routed. 'Spare you?' he said. 'I'd as soon spare a rabid wolf.'
'No!' shrieked Francesco. 'I beg you!'
'This is for my father,' said Ezio, stabbing him in the gizzard. 'And this is for Federico,' stabbing him again, 'And this for Petruccio; and this for Giuliano!'
Blood spurted and streamed from Francesco's wounds and Ezio was covered in it, but he would have gone on stabbing the dying man if Mario's words had not then come back to him: 'Do not become the man he was.' He sank back on to his heels. Francesco's eyes still glittered, though their light was fading. He was muttering something. Ezio leaned low to listen.
'A priest. a priest. for pity's sake, fetch me a priest.'
Ezio was deeply shocked, now that the fury within him had abated, at the savagery with which he had killed. This was not in accordance with the Creed. 'There is no time,' he said. 'I will have a Mass said for your soul.'
Francesco's throat was rattling now. Then his limbs stiffened and shook as he reached his death throes, his head arching back, his mouth open wide as he fought the last impossible battle with the invincible foe whom we all have to face one day; and he sank down, an empty bag, a slight, shrunken, pallid thing.
'Requiescat in pace,' murmured Ezio.
Then a new roar arose from the square. Across from the south-west corner fifty or sixty men came running, led by a man Ezio recognized - Francesco's uncle, Jacopo! They bore the Pazzi banner aloft.
'Liberta! Liberta! Popolo e liberta!' they shouted as they came. At the same time the Medici forces streamed out of the palazzo to meet them, but they were tired and, as Ezio could see, outnumbered.
He turned back to the body. 'Well, Francesco,' he said. 'I think I have found one way in which you can repay your debt, even now.' Quickly, he reached under the corpse's shoulders, hoisted it up - it was surprisingly light - and carried it to the balcony. Here, finding a lanyard from which a banner hung, he used the length of rope to fasten around the old man's lifeless neck. He quickly attached the other end to a sturdy stone column, and, summoning up all his strength, raised it high, then tossed it over the parapet. The rope paid out, but suddenly jerked taut with a snap. Francesco's limp body hung, toes pointing listlessly at the ground far below.
Ezio hid himself behind the column, 'Jacopo!' he called in a voice of thunder. 'Jacopo de' Pazzi! Look! Your leader is dead! Your cause is finished!'
Below, he could see Jacopo look up, and falter. Behind him, his men, too, hesitated. The Medici troops had followed his gaze, and now, cheering, they were closing in. But the Pazzi had already broken ranks - and were fleeing. In a matter of days, it was all over. The power of the Pazzi in Florence was broken. Their goods and property were seized, their coats-of-arms torn down and trampled. Despite Lorenzo's appeals for mercy, the Florentine mob hunted down and killed every Pazzi sympathizer they could find, though some of the principals had fled. Only one who was captured obtained clemency - Raffaele Riario, a nephew of the Pope, whom Lorenzo considered to be too credulous and ingenuous to have had any serious involvement, though many of the Duke's advisers thought that Lorenzo was showing more humanity than political astuteness in his decision.
Sixtus IV was furious, nevertheless, and placed Florence under an interdict, but he was powerless otherwise, and the Florentines shrugged him off.
As for Ezio, he was one of the first to be summoned to the Duke's presence. He found Lorenzo standing on a balcony overlooking the Arno, watching the water. His wounds were still bandaged but they were healing, and the pallor had left his
cheeks. He stood proud and tall, and fully the man who had earned the soubriquet Florence had bestowed on him - Il Magnifico.
After they had greeted one another, Lorenzo gestured towards the river. 'Do you know, Ezio, when I was six years old, I fell into the Arno. I soon found myself drifting down and into darkness, certain that my life was at an end. Instead, I woke to the sound of my mother weeping. At her side stood a stranger, soaking wet and smiling. She explained to me that he had saved me. That stranger's name was Auditore. And so began a long and prosperous relationship between our two families.' He turned to look at Ezio solemnly. 'I am sorry that I could not save your kinsmen.'
Ezio found it hard to find words. The cold world of politics, where distinctions between right and wrong are too often blurred, was one he understood but rejected. 'I know you would have saved them if it had been within your power,' he said.
'Your family house, at least, is safe and under the city's protection. I have put your old housekeeper, Annetta, in charge of it, and it is staffed and guarded at my expense. Whatever happens, it will be waiting for you whenever you wish to return to it.'
'You are gracious, Altezza.' Ezio paused. He was thinking of Cristina. Might it not be too late to persuade her to break her engagement, marry him, and help him bring the Auditore family back to life? But two short years had changed him beyond recognition, and he had another duty now - a duty to the Creed.
'We have won a great victory,' he said at last. 'But the war is not won. Many of our enemies have escaped.'
'But the safety of Florence is assured. Pope Sixtus wanted to persuade Naples to move against us, but I have persuaded Ferdinando not to do so; and neither will Bologna or Milan.'
Ezio could not tell the Duke of the greater battle he was engaged in, for he could not be sure if Lorenzo was privy to the secrets of the Assassins. 'For the sake of our greater security,' he said, 'I need your permission to go and seek out Jacopo de' Pazzi.'
A cloud crossed Lorenzo's face. 'That coward!' he said angrily. 'He fled before we could lay hands on him.'
'Do we have any idea where he might have gone?'
Lorenzo shook his head. 'No. They've hidden themselves well. My spies report that Baroncelli may be trying to make his way to Constantinople, but as for the others.'
Ezio said, 'Give me their names,' and there was something in the firmness of his voice that told Lorenzo that here was a man it might be fatal to cross.
'How could I ever forget the names of my brother's murderers? And if you seek and find them, I shall be forever in your debt. They are the priests Antonio Maffei and Stefano da Bagnone. Bernardo Baroncelli I have mentioned. And there is another, not directly involved in the killings, but a dangerous ally of our enemies. He is the Archbishop of Pisa, Francesco Salviati - another of the Riario family, the Pope's hunting dogs. I showed his cousin clemency. I try not to be a man like they are. I wonder sometimes how wise I am in that.'
'I have a list,' said Ezio. 'Their names will be added to it.' He prepared to take his leave.
'Where will you go now?' asked Lorenzo.
'Back to my uncle Mario in Monteriggioni. That will be my base.'
'Then go with God, friend Ezio. But before you do, I have something that may interest you.' Lorenzo opened a leather wallet at his belt and from it extracted a sheet of vellum. Almost before he'd unrolled it, Ezio knew what it was.
'I remember years ago talking to your father about ancient documents,' said Lorenzo quietly. 'It was a shared interest that we had. I know he'd translated s
ome. Here, take this - I found it among Francesco de' Pazzi's papers, and as he no longer needs it, I thought you might like it - as it reminded me of your father. Perhaps you might like to add it to his. collection?'
'I am indeed grateful for this, Altezza.'
'I thought you might be,' said Lorenzo, in such a way as to make Ezio wonder how much he actually knew. 'I hope you find it useful.'
Before he packed and made ready for his journey, Ezio hastened, with the fresh Codex page Lorenzo had given him, to visit his friend Leonardo da Vinci. Despite the events of the last week, the workshop was carrying on as if nothing had happened.
'I am glad to see you safe and sound, Ezio,' Leonardo greeted him.
'I see that you came through the troubles unscathed too,' replied Ezio.
'I told you - they leave me alone. They must think me either too mad, or too bad, or too dangerous to touch! But do have some wine, and there are some cakes somewhere, if they haven't gone stale - my housekeeper's useless - and tell me what's on your mind.'
'I'm leaving Florence.'
'So soon? But they tell me you're the hero of the hour! Why not sit back and enjoy it?'
'I have no time.'
'Still got enemies to pursue?'
'How do you know?'
Leonardo smiled. 'Thank you for coming to say goodbye,' he said.
'Before I go,' said Ezio, 'I have another page of the Codex for you.'
'That is indeed good news. May I see it?'
'Of course.'
Leonardo perused the new document carefully. 'I'm beginning to get the hang of this,' he said. 'I still can't quite see what the general diagram in the background is, but the writing is becoming familiar. It looks like the description of another weapon.' He rose, and brought a handful of old and fragile-looking books to the table. 'Let's see. I must say, whoever the inventor was who wrote all this, he must have been a very long way ahead of his time. The mechanics alone.' He trailed off, lost in thought. 'Aha! I see! Ezio, it's a design for another blade - one that will fit into the mechanism you attach to your arm if you need to use this one in place of the first.'
'What's the difference?'
'If I'm right, this one's quite nasty - it's hollow in the middle, see? And through the tube concealed in the blade, its user can inject poison into his victim. Death wherever you strike! This thing would make you practically invincible!'
'Can you make it?'
'On the same terms as before?'
'Of course.'
'Good! How long have I got?'
'The end of the week? I have some preparations to make, and. there's someone I want to try to see. to say goodbye. But I need to get going as soon as possible.'
'It doesn't give me long. But I still have the tools I needed for the first job, and my assistants have got their hand in, so I don't see why not.'
Ezio used the intervening time to settle his affairs in Florence, pack his bags, and arrange a courier to take a letter to Monteriggioni. He found himself putting off his final, self-imposed task again and again, but he knew he'd have to do it. At last, on his second to last evening, he walked over to the Calfucci mansion. His feet were like lead.
But when he approached the place he found it dark and closed up. Knowing he was behaving like a madman, he clambered up to Cristina's balcony, only to find her windows securely shuttered. The nasturtiums in pots on the balcony were withered and dead. As he climbed down again, wearily, he felt as if his heart had been covered in a shroud. He remained at the door in a dream, for he knew not how long, but someone must have been watching him, for finally a first-floor window opened and a woman put her head out.
'They've gone, you know. Signor Calfucci saw the trouble coming and cleared the family out to Lucca - that's where his daughter's fiance comes from.'
'Lucca?'
'Yes. The families have got quite close, I hear.'
'When will they be back?'
'No idea.' The woman looked at him. 'Don't I know you from somewhere?'
'I don't think so,' said Ezio.
He spent that night dreaming alternately of Cristina and of Francesco's bloody end.
In the morning it was overcast, a sky to suit Ezio's mood. He made his way to Leonardo's workshop, glad that this was the day on which he would leave Florence. The new knife blade was ready, finished in dull grey steel, very hard, the edges sharp enough to sever a silk handkerchief if you just let it fall through the air on to them. The hole in the point was tiny.
'The hilt contains the poison, and you release it simply by flexing your arm muscle against this inner button. Be careful, as it's quite sensitive.'
'What poison should I use?'
'I've used a strong distillation of hemlock to get you started, but when you run out, ask any doctor.'
'Poison? From a doctor?'
'In high enough concentrations, that which cures can also kill.'
Ezio nodded sadly. 'I am in your debt once more.'
'Here is your Codex page. Must you leave so soon?'
'Florence is safe - for now. But I still have work to do.'
10
'Ezio!' beamed Mario, his beard bristlier than ever, his face burned by the Tuscan sun. 'Welcome back!'
'Uncle.'
Mario's face became more serious. 'I can see from your face that you've been through much in the months since we last met. And when you are bathed and rested, you must tell me all.' He paused. 'We have heard all the news from Florence, and I - even I - found myself praying that by some miracle you would be spared. But not only were you spared, you turned the tide against the Pazzi! The Templars will hate you for that, Ezio.'
'It is a hatred I reciprocate.'
'Rest first - then tell me all.'
That evening the two men sat down together in Mario's study. Mario listened intently as Ezio told him all he knew of the events that had passed in Florence. He returned Vieri's Codex page to his uncle, and then passed over the one he had been given by Lorenzo, describing the design it contained for the poison-blade, and showing it to him. Mario was duly impressed, but fixed his attention on the new page.
'My friend was not able to decipher more than the description of the weapon,' said Ezio.
'That is as well. Not all the pages contain such instructions, and only those that do should be of any interest to him,' said Mario, an underlying note of caution in his voice. 'In any case, only when the pages are reunited shall we be able to understand fully the meaning of the Codex. But this page, when we place it, together with Vieri's, with the others, should bring us a step further.'
He rose, walked over to the bookcase that concealed the wall on which the Codex pages hung, swung it back, and studied where the new pages might go. One of them connected with those already in place. The other touched a corner of it. 'It is interesting that Vieri and his father should have owned pages that were evidently close together,' he said. 'Now, let us see what.' He broke off, concentrating. 'Hmmn,' he said at last, but his voice was troubled.
'Does this bring us any further, Uncle?'
'I'm not sure. We may be just as much in the dark as ever, but there is definitely some reference to a prophet - not from the Bible, but either a living prophet, or one who is to come.'
'Who could it be?'
'Let's not go too fast.' Mario brooded over the pages, his lips moving, speaking a language Ezio did not understand. 'As far as I can make out, the text here roughly translates as "Only the Prophet may open it." And here, there's a reference to two "Pieces of Eden", but what that means, I do not know. We must be patient, until we have more pages of the Codex.'
'I know the Codex is important, Uncle, but I have what is for me a more pressing reason to be here than to unravel its mystery. I seek the renegade, Jacopo de' Pazzi.'
'He certainly travelled south after fleeing Florence.' Mario hesitated before continuing. 'I had not meant to talk of this with you tonight, Ezio, but the matter is as urgent to me as I see it is to you, and we have to start our preparatio
ns soon. My old friend Roberto has been driven out of San Gimignano and it has become once more a stronghold of the Templars. It is too close to Florence, and to us, to remain so. I believe that Jacopo may seek refuge there.'
'I have a list of the names of the other conspirators,' said Ezio, taking it from his wallet and handing it to his uncle.
'Good. Some of these men will have far less to fall back on than Jacopo, and may be easy to root out. I'll send spies out into the countryside at dawn to see what they can discover about them, and in the meantime we must prepare to retake San Gimignano.'
'By all means make your men ready, but for me there is no time to waste if I am to bring these murderers down.'
Mario considered. 'Perhaps you are right - a man alone can often breach walls which an army cannot. And we should bring them down while they still think they are safe.' He considered for a moment. 'So, I give you my permission. You go on ahead and see what you can discover. I know you are more than able to look after yourself these days.'
'Uncle, my thanks!'
'Not so fast, Ezio! I grant you this leave on one condition.'
'Which is?'
'That you delay your departure for a week.'
'A week?'
'If you are to go out into the field alone, with no back-up, you will need more than these Codex weapons to help you. You are a man now, and a brave fighter for the Assassins. But your reputation will make the Templars even hungrier for your blood, and I know that there are still skills which you lack.'
Ezio shook his head impatiently. 'No, Uncle, I am sorry, but a week - !'
Mario frowned, but raised his voice only slightly. It was enough. 'I have heard good things of you, Ezio, but also bad. You lost control when you killed Francesco. And you allowed sentiment over Cristina to tempt you from your path. Your whole duty now is to the Creed, for if you neglect it, there may be no world left for you to enjoy.' He drew himself up. 'I speak with your father's voice when I command your obedience.'
Ezio had watched his uncle grow in stature, even in size, as he spoke. And painful as it was to accept, he acknowledged the truth of what he had been told. Bitterly, he bowed his head.
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