Assassin's Creed: Renaissance (23 page)

‘God give you peace,’ he said, kissing Jacopo’s forehead as he pushed his dagger firmly into his old adversary’s heart.

When Ezio returned to Florence and broke the news to Duke Lorenzo of the death of the last of the Pazzi, Lorenzo was delighted, but saddened that the security of Florence and of the Medici had had to be bought at the cost of so much blood. Lorenzo preferred to find diplomatic solutions to differences, but that desire made him an exception among his peers, the rulers of the other city-states of Italy.

He rewarded Ezio with a ceremonial cape, which conferred on him the Freedom of the City of Florence.

‘This is a most gracious gift,
Altezza
,’ Ezio told him. ‘But I fear I will have little leisure to enjoy the benefits it confers on me.’

Lorenzo was surprised. ‘What? Do you intend to leave again soon? I had hoped that you would stay, reopen your family palazzo, and take up a position in the city’s administration, working with me.’

Ezio bowed, but said, ‘I am sorry to say that it is my belief that our troubles have not come to an end with the fall of the Pazzi. They were but one tentacle of a greater beast. My intention now is to go to Venice.’

‘Venice?’

‘Yes. The man who was with Rodrigo Borgia at the meeting with Francesco is a member of the Barbarigo family.’

‘One of the most powerful families in La Serenissima. Are you saying this man is dangerous?’

‘He is allied to Rodrigo.’

Lorenzo considered for a moment, then spread his hands. ‘I let you go with the utmost regret, Ezio; but I know that I shall never be out of your debt, which means in turn that I have no power to command you. Besides, I have a feeling that the work you are engaged on will in the long run be of benefit to our city, even though I may not live to see it.’

‘Don’t say that,
Altezza
.’

Lorenzo smiled. ‘I hope I am wrong, but living in this country at this time is like living on the rim of Vesuvius – dangerous and uncertain!’

Before leaving, Ezio brought news and gifts to Annetta, though it was painful to him to visit his former family home, and he would not enter it. He also studiously avoided the Calfucci mansion, but he did call on Paola, and found her gracious, but distracted, as if her mind were somewhere else. His last port of call was at his friend Leonardo’s workshop, but when he got there he found only Agniolo and Innocento about, and the place had the look of being closed up. There was no sign of Leonardo.

Agniolo smiled and greeted him as he arrived. ‘
Ciao
, Ezio! It’s been a long time!’

‘Too long!’

Ezio looked about him, questioningly.

‘You’re wondering where Leonardo is.’

‘Has he left?’

‘Yes, but not for ever. He’s taken some of his material with him, but he couldn’t take it all, so Innocento and I are looking after it while he’s away.’

‘And where has he gone?’

‘It’s funny. The Maestro was in negotiations with the Sforza in Milan, but then the Conte de Pexaro invited him to spend some time in Venice – he’s to complete a set of five family portraits…’ Agniolo smiled knowingly. ‘As if
that’ll
ever happen; but it seems that the Council of Venice is interested in his engineering work, and they’re providing him with a workshop, staff, the lot. So, dear Ezio, if you need him, that is where you’ll need to go.’

‘But that is exactly where I’m going,’ cried Ezio. ‘This is splendid news. When did he leave?’

‘Two days ago. But you’ll have no difficulty catching up with him. He’s got a huge wagon absolutely loaded with his stuff, and a couple of oxen to draw it.’

‘Any of his people with him?’

‘Just the wagoners, and a couple of outriders, in case of trouble. They’ve taken the Ravenna road.’

Ezio took with him only what he could pack into his saddlebags, and, travelling alone, had been riding only a day and a half when, at a bend in the road, he came upon a heavy ox-drawn cart equipped with a canvas canopy beneath which any amount of machinery and models was carefully stowed.

The wagoners stood at the side of the road, scratching their heads and looking hot and bothered, while the outriders, two slightly built boys armed with crossbows and lances, kept watch from a nearby knoll. Leonardo was nearby, apparently setting up some kind of leverage system, when he looked up and saw Ezio.

‘Hello, Ezio! What luck!’

‘Leonardo! What’s going on?’

‘I seem to have run into a bit of trouble. One of the cartwheels…’ He pointed to where one of the rear wheels had worked its way off the axle. ‘The problem is that we need the wagon lifted clear so that we can refit the wheel but we just don’t have the manpower to do it, and this lever I’ve botched together isn’t going to lift it high enough. So do you think…?’

‘Of course.’

Ezio beckoned to the two wagoners, heavily built men who’d be more use to him than the lissom outriders, and between the three of them they were able to hoist the wagon up high enough and hold it there long enough for Leonardo to slip the wheel back on to the axle and peg it securely. While he was doing this, Ezio, straining with the others to keep the wagon up, looked in at its contents. Among them, unmistakably, was the bat-like structure he’d seen before. It looked as if it had undergone many modifications.

Once the wagon had been repaired, Leonardo took up his seat on its front bench with one of the wagoners, while the other walked at the head of the oxen. The outriders patrolled restlessly both ahead and to the rear. Ezio kept his horse at a walk, next to Leonardo, and they talked. It had been a very long time since their last meeting, and they had much to talk about. Ezio was able to bring Leonardo up to date, and Leonardo talked of his new commissions, and of his excitement at the prospect of seeing Venice.

‘I am so delighted to have you as a travelling companion! Mind you, you’d get there much faster if you didn’t travel at my pace.’

‘It’s a pleasure. And I want to make sure you get there safely.’

‘I have my outriders.’

‘Leonardo, don’t misunderstand me, but even highwaymen still wet behind the ears could flick those two away as easily as you’d flick away a gnat.’

Leonardo looked surprised, then offended, then amused. ‘Then I’m doubly glad of your company.’ He looked sly. ‘And I have an idea it’s not just for sentimental reasons that you’d like to see me get there in one piece.’

Ezio smiled, but did not reply. Instead he said, ‘I notice you’re still working on that bat-contraption.’

‘Eh?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Oh, that. It’s nothing. Just something I’ve been tinkering away at. But I couldn’t leave it behind.’

‘What is it?’

Leonardo was reluctant. ‘I don’t really like to talk about things before they’re ready…’

‘Leonardo! You can trust me, surely.’ Ezio lowered his voice. ‘After all, I’ve trusted you with secrets.’

Leonardo struggled with himself, then relaxed. ‘All right, but you must tell no one else.’

‘
Promesso
.’

‘Anyone would think you mad if you did tell them,’ Leonardo continued, but his voice was excited. ‘Listen. I think I have found a way to make a man fly!’

Ezio looked at him and laughed in total disbelief.

‘I can see a time coming when you might want to wipe that smile off your face,’ said Leonardo, good-naturedly.

He changed the subject then and started to talk about Venice, La Serenissima, aloof from the rest of Italy and often looking eastwards more than westwards, both for trade and in trepidation, for the Ottoman Turks held sway as far as halfway up the northern Adriatic coast these days. He talked of the beauty and the treachery of Venice, of the city’s dedication to moneymaking, of its
richesse
, its weird construction – a city of canals rising out of fenland and built on a foundation of hundreds of thousands of huge wooden stakes – its ferocious independence, and its political power: not three hundred years earlier, the Doge of Venice had diverted an entire Crusade from the Holy Land to serve his own purposes, to destroy all commercial and military competition and opposition to his city-state, and to bring the Byzantine Empire to its knees. He talked of the secret, ink-dark backwaters, the towering, candlelit
palazzi
, the curious dialect of Italian they spoke, the silence that hovered, the gaudy splendour of their dress, their magnificent painters, of whom the prince was Giovanni Bellini, whom Leonardo was eager to meet, of their music, their masked festivals, their flashy ability to show off, their mastery of the art of poisoning. ‘And all this,’ he concluded, ‘I know just from books. Imagine what the real thing will be like.’

It will be dirty, and human, thought Ezio coldly. Like everywhere else. But he showed his friend an agreeable smile. Leonardo was a dreamer. Dreamers should be allowed to dream.

They had entered a gorge, and their voices echoed off its rocky sides. Ezio, scanning the almost invisible crests of the cliffs that hemmed them in on both sides, was suddenly tense. The outriders had gone on ahead, but he ought to have been able, in this confined space, to hear the clatter of their horses. However, no sound came. A light mist had sprung up, together with a sudden chill, neither of which did anything to reassure him. Leonardo was oblivious, but Ezio could see that the wagoners had become tense too, and were looking warily about them.

Suddenly, a scattering of small pebbles came clattering down the rocky side of the gorge, causing Ezio’s horse to shy. He looked up, squinting against the indifferent sun, high above, against which he could see an eagle soar.

Now even Leonardo was aware. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘We’re not alone,’ said Ezio. ‘There may be enemy archers up on the cliffs above us.’

But then he heard the thundering hooves of horses, several horses, approaching them from behind.

Ezio wheeled his horse, to see half a dozen cavalry approaching. The banner they bore was a red cross on a yellow shield.

‘Borgia!’ he muttered, drawing his sword as a crossbow bolt hammered into the side of the wagon. The wagoners themselves were already fleeing up the road ahead, and even the oxen were affected, for they lumbered slowly forward of their own volition.

‘Take the reins and keep them going,’ Ezio cried to Leonardo. ‘It’s me they’re after, not you. Just keep going, whatever happens!’

Leonardo hastened to obey as Ezio rode back to meet the horsemen. His sword, one of Mario’s, was well balanced by its pommel, and his horse was lighter and more manoeuvrable than those of his adversaries. But they were well armoured, and there would be no chance to use his Codex blades. Ezio dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, spurring it on into the thick of the enemy. Ducking low in the saddle, Ezio smashed into the group, the force of his charge causing two of their horses to rear violently. Then the swordplay began in earnest. The protective brace he wore on his left forearm deflected many blows, however, and he was able to take advantage of the surprise of a foeman when he saw that his blow did not land, to get in a meaningful blow of his own.

It was not long before he had unseated four of the men, leaving the two survivors to wheel round and gallop back the way they had come. This time, however, he knew that he must allow no one even the chance of getting back to Rodrigo. He galloped after them, cutting first one, and then the other, down off his horse as he caught up with them.

He searched the bodies swiftly, but neither yielded anything of note; then he dragged them to the roadside and covered them with rocks and stones. He remounted and rode back, pausing only to clear the road of the other corpses and give them a rudimentary burial, at least enough to conceal them, with the stones and brushwood he had at hand. There was nothing he could do about their horses, which by now had run away.

Ezio had escaped Rodrigo’s vengeance once more, but he knew the Borgia cardinal would not give up until he was assured of his death. He dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and rode to rejoin Leonardo. When he caught up, they looked for the wagoners and called their names in vain.

‘I paid them a huge deposit on this wagon and oxen,’ grumbled Leonardo. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll ever see it again.’

‘Sell them in Venice.’

‘Don’t they use gondolas there?’

‘Plenty of farms on the mainland.’

Leonardo looked at him. ‘By God, Ezio, I like a practical man!’

Their long cross-country journey continued, past the ancient town of Forlì, now a small city-state in its own right, and on to Ravenna and its port on the coast a few miles beyond. There they took ship, a coastal galley on its way from Ancona to Venice, and once he had ascertained that no one else on board presented any danger, Ezio managed to relax a little. But he was aware that, even on a relatively small ship like this, it would not be too difficult to slit someone’s throat at night and cast their body into the blue-black waters, and he watched alertly the comings and goings at every little harbour they put into.

However, they arrived several days later at the Venice dockyards without incident. Only here did Ezio encounter his next setback, and that was from an unexpected source.

They had disembarked and were waiting now for the local ferry, which would take them to the island city. It duly arrived, and sailors helped Leonardo move his wagon on to the boat, which wallowed alarmingly under its weight. The ferry captain told Leonardo that some of the Conte da Pexaro’s staff would be waiting on the quay to conduct him to his new quarters, and with a bow and a smile handed him on board. ‘You have your pass, of course,
signore
?’

‘Of course,’ said Leonardo, handing the man a paper.

‘And you, sir?’ inquired the captain politely, turning to Ezio.

Ezio was taken aback. He had arrived without an invitation, unaware of this local law. ‘But – I have no pass,’ he said.

‘It’s all right,’ put in Leonardo, speaking to the captain. ‘He is with me. I can vouch for him and I am sure that the
Conte
-‘

But the captain held up a hand. ‘I regret,
signore
. The rules of the Council are explicit. No one may enter the city of Venice without a pass.’