Assassin's Creed: Renaissance (32 page)

Ezio looked at her. ‘I like the way you think, Sister.’

‘You’ll just have to be very careful how you aim. You’ll only get one chance.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘
Buona fortuna
, my son. I’ll be waiting for you back at the bordello.’

She vanished among the partygoers, among whom Ezio could also see Dante and his goons still searching for him. Silent as a wraith, he made his way to a point on the quay as close as he dared get to the spot where Marco was standing on the barge. Fortunately, his resplendent robes, bathed in the lights of the party, made him an excellent target.

The Doge’s speech continued, and Ezio used it to prepare himself, listening carefully for the resumption of the fireworks. His timing would have to be accurate if he was to get his shot off undetected.

‘We all know we have come through troubled times,’ Marco was saying. ‘But we have come through them together, and
Venezia
stands a stronger city for it… Transitions of power are difficult for all, but we have weathered the shift with grace and tranquillity. It is no easy thing to lose a Doge in the prime of life – and it is frustrating to see our dear brother Mocenigo’s assassin still roam free and unpunished. However, we may comfort ourselves with the thought that many of us were beginning to grow uncomfortable with my predecessor’s policies, to feel unsafe, and to doubt the road he was guiding us down.’ Several voices in the crowd were raised in agreement, and Marco, smiling, held up his hands for silence. ‘Well, my friends, I can tell you that I have found the right road for us again! I can see down it, and I know where we are going! It’s a beautiful place, and we are going there together! The future I see for
Venezia
is a future of strength, a future of wealth. We will build a fleet so strong that our enemies will fear us as never before! And we will expand our trade routes across the seas and bring home spices and treasures undreamed of since Marco Polo’s time!’ Marco’s eyes glittered as his voice took on a minatory tone. ‘And I say this to those who stand against us: be careful which side of the line you choose, because either you are with us or you are on the side of evil. And we will harbour no enemies here! We will hunt you down, we will root you out, we will destroy you!’ He raised his hands again and declaimed: ‘And
Venezia
shall always stand – the brightest jewel in all civilization!’

As he let his arms fall in triumph, a mighty display of fireworks went up – a grand finale which turned night into day. The noise of the explosions was deafening – Ezio’s little lethal gunshot was quite lost in it. And he was well on his way out through the crowd before the people in it had had time to react to the sight of Marco Barbarigo, one of the shortest-reigning doges in Venetian history, stagger, clutching at his heart, and falling dead on the deck of the Ducal Barge. ‘
Requiescat in pace
,’ Ezio muttered to himself as he went.

But once the news was out, it travelled fast, and reached the brothel before Ezio did. He was greeted with cries of admiration from Teodora and her courtesans.

‘You must be exhausted,’ said Teodora, taking his arm and leading him away from the others towards an inner room. ‘Come, relax!’

But first Antonio offered his congratulations. ‘The saviour of Venice!’ he exclaimed. ‘What can I say? Perhaps it was wrong of me to doubt so readily. Now at least we’ll have a chance to see where the pieces fall…’

‘Enough of that now,’ said Teodora. ‘Come, Ezio. You’ve worked hard, my son. I feel your tired body is in need of comfort and succour.’

Ezio was quick to catch her meaning, and played along. ‘It is true, Sister. I have such aches and pains that I may need a great deal of comfort and succour. I hope you are up to it.’

‘Oh,’ grinned Teodora, ‘I don’t intend to ease your pain single-handed! Girls!’

A gaggle of courtesans slipped smilingly past Ezio into the inner room, at the centre of which he could see a truly massive bed, by whose side was a singular contraption like a couch, but with pulleys and belts, and chains. It reminded him of something out of Leonardo’s workshop, but he couldn’t imagine what possible use it might be put to.

He exchanged a long look with Teodora and followed her into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

A couple of days later Ezio was standing on the Rialto Bridge, relaxed and refreshed, and watching the crowds go by. He was just considering leaving to go and drink a couple of glasses of Veneto before the
ora di pranzo
, when he saw a man he recognized hurrying towards him – one of Antonio’s messengers.

‘Ezio, Ezio,’ the man said as he came up. ‘
Ser
Antonio wishes to see you – it’s a matter of importance.’

‘Then we’ll go immediately,’ said Ezio, following him off the bridge.

They found Antonio in his office in the company – to Ezio’s surprise – of Agostino Barbarigo. Antonio made the introductions.

‘It is an honour to meet you, sir. I am sorry for the loss of your brother.’

Agostino waved a hand. ‘I appreciate your sympathy, but to be frank my brother was a fool and completely under the control of the Borgia faction in Rome – something I would not wish on Venice ever. Luckily, some public-spirited person has averted that danger by assassinating him. In a curiously original way… There will be inquiries, of course, but I am at a loss personally to see where they will lead…’

‘
Messer
Agostino is shortly to be elected Doge,’ put in Antonio. ‘It is good news for Venice.’

‘The Council of Forty-One has worked fast this time,’ said Ezio, drily.

‘I think they have learnt the error of their ways,’ replied Agostino with a wry smile. ‘But I do not wish to be Doge in name only, as my brother was. Which brings us to the business in hand. Our ghastly cousin Silvio has occupied the Arsenal – the military quarter of town – and garrisoned it with two hundred mercenaries!’

‘But when you are Doge, can’t you command them to stand down?’ asked Ezio.

‘It would be nice to think so,’ said Agostino, ‘but my brother’s extravagances have depleted the city’s resources, and we will be hard put to it to withstand a determined force who have control of the Arsenal. And without the Arsenal, I have no real control of Venice, Doge or no Doge!’

‘Then,’ said Ezio. ‘We must raise a determined force of our own.’

‘Well said!’ Antonio beamed. ‘And I think I have just the man for the job. Have you heard of Bartolomeo d’Alviano?’

‘Of course. The
condottiero
who used to serve the Papal States! He’s turned against them, I know.’

‘And just now he’s based here. He has little love for Silvio, who, as you know, is also in Cardinal Borgia’s pocket,’ said Agostino. ‘Bartolomeo’s based on San Pietro, east of the Arsenal.’

‘I’ll go and see him.’

‘Before you do that, Ezio,’ said Antonio, ‘
Messer
Agostino has something for you.’

From his robes Agostino withdrew a rolled, ancient vellum scroll, with a heavy black seal, broken, hanging from a tattered red ribbon. ‘My brother had it among his papers. Antonio thought it might interest you. Consider it a payment for… services rendered.’

Ezio took it. He knew immediately what it was. ‘Thank you, Signore. I am sure this will be of great help in the battle which will surely come.’

Pausing only to arm himself, Ezio wasted no time in making his way to Leonardo’s workshop, where he was surprised to find his friend in the process of packing up.

‘Where are you off to now?’ asked Ezio.

‘Back to Milan. I was going to send you a message before I left, of course. And to send you a packet of bullets for your little gun.’

‘Well, I am very glad I’ve caught you. Look, I have another Codex page!’

‘Excellent. I am most interested in seeing those. Come in. My servant Luca and the others can carry on with this. I’ve got them quite well trained by now. Pity I can’t take them all with me.’

‘What are you going to do in Milan?’

‘Lodovico Sforza made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.’

‘But what about your projects here?’

‘The navy’s had to cancel. No money for new projects. Apparently the last Doge ran through most of it. I could have done him fireworks, no need to have gone to all the expense of sending off to China for them. Never mind, Venice is still at peace with the Turks, and they’ve told me I’m welcome to come back – in fact, I think they’d like me to. Meanwhile I’m leaving Luca behind – he’d be a fish out of water away from Venice – with a few basic designs to get them started. And as for the Conte, he’s happy with his family portraits – though personally I think they could do with more work.’ Leonardo started to unroll the vellum sheet. ‘Now, let’s have a look at this.’

‘Promise you’ll let me know when you return here.’

‘I promise, my friend. And you – keep me posted on your movements if you can.’

‘I will.’

‘Now…’ Leonardo spread the Codex page out and examined it. ‘There’s something here that looks like a blueprint for the double-bladed knife that went with your metal guard-bracer, but it’s incomplete and may be an earlier draft of the design. The rest can only be significant in connection with the other pages – look, there are more map-like markings and some kind of picture that puts me in mind of those complex knot-patterns I used to doodle when I had any time to think for myself!’ Leonardo rolled up the page again and looked at Ezio. ‘I’d put this in a safe place with the other two pages you’ve shown me here in Venice. They’re all clearly of great significance.’

‘Actually, Leo, if you’re going to Milan I wonder if I might ask you a favour?’

‘Fire away.’

‘When you get to Padua, would you please organize a trustworthy courier to take these three pages to my Uncle Mario in Monteriggioni? He’s an… antiquarian… and I know he’ll find them interesting. But I need someone I can depend on to do this for me.’

Leonardo gave him the ghost of a smile. If Ezio hadn’t been so preoccupied, he might almost have thought it
knowing
. ‘I’m sending my stuff straight on to Milan, but as for myself I’m paying a flying visit – to coin a phrase – to Florence first to check on Agniolo and Innocento, so I’ll be your courier as far as there, and I’ll send Agniolo on to Monteriggioni with them, have no fear.’

‘That is better than I could have hoped for.’ Ezio grasped his hand. ‘You are a good and wonderful friend, Leo.’

‘I certainly hope so, Ezio. Occasionally I think you could do with someone truly to look out for you.’ He paused. ‘And I wish you well in your work. I hope one day you will be able to bring it to a conclusion, and find rest.’

A distant look came into Ezio’s steel-grey eyes, but he didn’t reply except to say, ‘You’ve reminded me – I have another errand to run. I’ll send one of my host’s men over with the other two Codex pages. And now, for the moment,
addio
!’

The quickest way to reach San Pietro from Leonardo’s workshop was by taking the ferry or hiring a boat from the Fondamenta Nuova and sailing east from the north shores of the city. To his surprise Ezio found it hard to get anyone to take him there. The regular ferries had been suspended, and it was only by digging deep into his pockets that he managed to persuade a pair of young gondoliers to make the journey.

‘What’s the problem?’ he asked them.

‘Word is, there’s been some bad fighting down there,’ said the aft oarsman, straining against choppy water. ‘Seems that it’s died down now, just a local feud. But the ferries aren’t risking starting up again just yet. We’ll drop you on the north foreshore. Just keep an eye out for yourself.’

They did as they had promised. Ezio soon found himself alone, plodding up a muddy bank to the brick retaining wall, from where he could see the spire of the church of San Pietro di Castello a short way off. What he could also see was several plumes of smoke rising from a group of low brick buildings some distance south-east of the church. They were Bartolomeo’s barracks. His heart pounding, Ezio hastened in their direction.

The first thing that struck him was the silence. Then, as he drew nearer, he began to see dead bodies strewn around, some of the men wearing the blazon of Silvio Barbarigo, others a device he did not recognize. Finally he came upon a sergeant, badly wounded but still alive, who had managed to prop himself up against a low wall.

‘Please… help me,’ said the sergeant when Ezio approached.

Ezio searched around quickly and located the well, from which he drew water, praying that the attackers had not poisoned it, though it looked clean and clear enough. He poured some into a beaker he’d found and put it gently to the man’s lips, then moistened a cloth and wiped the blood from his face.

‘Thank you, friend,’ said the sergeant. Ezio noticed that he wore the unfamiliar badge, and guessed that it must be Bartolomeo’s. Evidently Bartolomeo’s troops had been worsted by Silvio’s.

‘It was a surprise attack,’ the sergeant confirmed. ‘Some whore of Bartolomeo’s betrayed us.’

‘Where have they gone now?’

‘The Inquisitor’s men? Back to the Arsenal. They’ve established a base there, just before the new Doge could take control. Silvio hates his cousin Agostino because he isn’t part of whatever plot the Inquisitor’s involved in.’ The man coughed blood, but endeavoured to continue. ‘Took our Captain prisoner. Carried him off with them. Funny really,
we
were just planning to attack
them
. Bartolomeo was simply waiting for… a messenger from the city.’

‘Where are the rest of your men now?’

The sergeant tried to look around. ‘Those that weren’t killed or taken prisoner scattered, tried to save themselves. They’ll be lying low in Venice and on the islands in the lagoon. But they’ll need someone to unite behind. They’ll be waiting for word of the Captain.’

‘And he’s a prisoner of Silvio?’

‘Yes. He…’ But the unfortunate sergeant here started to fight for breath. His struggle ended as his mouth opened and a shower of blood streamed from it, drenching the grass for three yards in front of him. But the time the flow had stopped, the man’s eyes were staring sightlessly in the direction of the lagoon.