Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood (28 page)

At last he managed to get ahead of his prey and cut off his line of escape. The thief went for his dagger, an ugly-looking
cinquedea
, but Ezio quickly wrested it out of his hand and it clattered harmlessly to the pavement.

“Why did you run?” asked Ezio, pinioning the man. Then he noticed a letter protruding from the man’s leather belt pouch. The seal was unmistakable: It was that of Pope Alexander VI—Rodrigo—the Spaniard!

Ezio let out a long breath as a series of suspicions fell into place. Paganino had long ago been with Antonio de Magianis’s Thieves’ Guild in Venice. He must have been offered enough money by the Borgia to persuade him to switch sides and had infiltrated La Volpe’s group here—the Borgia had had a mole at the heart of the Assassins’ organization all along.

Here was the traitor—not Machiavelli at all!

But while Ezio’s attention was distracted, the thief wrenched himself free and, in a flash, seized his fallen weapon. His desperate eyes met Ezio’s.

“Long live the Borgia!” he cried and thrust the
cinquedea
firmly into his own breast.

Ezio looked down at the fallen man as he thrashed about in his death agonies.
Well, better this death than a slow one at the hands of his masters
—Ezio well knew the price exacted by the Borgia for failure. He stuffed the letter into his doublet and made off.
Merda,
he thought to himself,
I was right! And now I have to stop La Volpe before he gets to Machiavelli!

As Ezio made his way across the city, he was accosted by Saraghina, one of the girls from the Rosa in Fiore.

“You must come quickly,” she said. “Your mother wants to see you urgently.”

Ezio bit his lip. There should be time. “Hurry,” he said.

Once at the bordello, he found Maria waiting for him. Her face betrayed her anxiety.

“Ezio,” she said, “thank you for coming to see me.”

“I have to be quick, Mother.”

“There’s something amiss.”

“Tell me.”

“The old proprietor of this establishment—”

“Madonna Solari?”

“Yes.” Maria collected herself. “It turns out that she was a cheat and a liar. We’ve discovered that she was playing
il doppio gioco
. She had close ties with the Vatican. Worse—several of those still employed here may still be—”

“Don’t worry,
Madre
. I’ll root them out. I’ll send my most trusted recruits to interview the girls. Under Claudia’s direction, they will soon get at the truth.”

“Thank you, Ezio.”

“We will ensure that only girls loyal to us remain here. As for the rest—” The expression on Ezio’s face was harsh.

“I have other news.”

“Yes?”

“We have word that ambassadors from King Ferdinand of Spain and from the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian, have arrived in Rome. It seems they seek an alliance with Cesare.”

“Are you sure, Mother? What need have they of him?”

“I don’t know,
figlio mio
.”

Ezio’s jaw was set. “We had better be safe rather than sorry. Ask Claudia to investigate for me. I give her a full mandate to give orders to the recruits I will send.”

“You trust her for this?”

“Mother, after the business with the Banker, I would trust the two of you with my life. I am ashamed not to have done so before—but it was only my anxiety for your safety that—”

Maria held up a hand. “You do not need to explain. And there is nothing to forgive. We are all friends again now. That is what matters.”

“And Cesare’s days are numbered. Even if the ambassadors gain his support, they will soon find it is worthless.”

“I hope your confidence is well-founded.”

“Believe me, Mother, it is. Or will be—if I can save Machiavelli from La Volpe’s misguided suspicion!”

Borrowing a horse from the stables he had liberated, Ezio rode posthaste to the Sleeping Fox. It was crucial that he get there before anything happened to Machiavelli. Lose him, and he’d lose the best brains in the Brotherhood.

Although the hour was not that late, he was alarmed to see that the inn was closed. He had his own key and let himself in through the wicket gate.

The scene that met his eyes told him that he had arrived not a moment too soon. The members of the Thieves’ Guild were all present. La Volpe and his principal lieutenants stood together, busily discussing something that appeared to be of great importance and it looked as though judgment had been reached, since La Volpe, a baleful look on his face, was approaching Machiavelli with a businesslike basilard in his right hand. Machiavelli, for his part, looked unconcerned, seemingly without any idea about what was happening.

“Stop!” shouted Ezio, bursting in on the scene and catching his breath after his headlong ride.

All eyes turned to him, while La Volpe stood rooted to the spot.

“Stay your hand, Gilberto!” commanded Ezio. “I have discovered the real traitor!”

“What?” said La Volpe, shocked, against a background of excited murmuring from his people.

“He is—was—none other than one of your own men—Paganino! He was present at the attack on Monteriggioni, and now I see his mischief in many of our recent misfortunes.”

“Are you sure of this?”

“He himself revealed his guilt.”

La Volpe’s brow darkened. He sheathed his dagger. “Where is he now?” he growled.

“Where no one can touch him anymore.”

“Dead?”

“By his own hand. He was carrying this letter.” Ezio held the sealed parchment aloft.

Ezio passed the letter to La Volpe, and Machiavelli came up as the thieves’ leader broke the seal and opened the paper.

“My God!” said La Volpe, scanning the words.

“Let me see,” said Machiavelli.

“Of course,” La Volpe said, crestfallen.

But Machiavelli was scanning the letter. “It’s from Rodrigo to Cesare. Details of our plans for the French general, Octavien—among other things.”

“One of my own men!”

“This is good news,” Machiavelli said to Ezio. “We can substitute this letter with another. Containing false information—put them off the scent…”

“Good news indeed,” replied Ezio, but his tone was cold. “Gilberto, you should have listened to me.”

“I am once again in your debt, Ezio,” said La Volpe, humbly.

Ezio allowed himself a smile. “What debt can there be amongst friends who trust—who must trust—one another?’

Before La Volpe could reply, Machiavelli put in, “And congratulations, by the way. I gather you resurrected Christ three days early!”

Ezio laughed, thinking of his rescue of Pietro. How did Machiavelli find out about things so
fast
?

La Volpe looked around at the men and women of the Guild gathered around them. “Well, what are you staring at?” he said. “We’re losing business here!”

Later, after Machiavelli had left to deal with the intercepted letter, La Volpe drew Ezio aside. “I am glad you are here,” he said, “and not just for preventing me from making a total fool of myself.”

“More than that,” said Ezio lightly. “Do you know what I would have done to you, if you had killed Niccolò?”

La Volpe grunted. “Ezio…” he said.

Ezio clapped him on the back. “But all’s well. No more quarrels. Within the Brotherhood, we cannot afford them! Now—what is it you wanted to say to me? Do you have need of my assistance?”

“I do. The Guild is strong, but many of my men are young and untried in any real test. Look at that kid who nicked your purse. Look at young Claudio.”

“And your point is…?”

“I was coming to that. The thieves in Rome generally are also young men and women. Skilled in their trade, sure, but
young
. Prone to rivalries. Damaging rivalries.”

“Are you speaking of another gang?”

“Yes. One in particular that may pose a threat. I need reinforcements to deal with them.”

“My recruits?”

La Volpe was silent, then said, “I know I refused you help when my suspicions of Niccolò were at their height, but now…”

“Who are they?”

“They call themselves the Cento Occhi—the One Hundred Eyes. They are creatures of Cesare Borgia, and they cause us significant trouble.”

“Where is their base?”

“My spies have located it.”

“Where?”

“Just a moment. They are angry, and they are spoiling for a fight.”

“Then we must surprise them.”

“Bene!”

“But we must be prepared for retaliation.”

“We will strike first. Then they will have no opportunity for retaliation!” La Volpe, now more and more his old self, rubbed his hands in anticipation. “The main thing is to take out their leaders. They alone have direct contact with the Borgia. Remove them, and we will have as good as beheaded the Cento Occhi.”

“And you really need my help for this?”

“You broke the power of the wolfmen.”

“Without your help.”

“I know.”

“The man who helped me break the wolfmen was—”

“I
know!
”

“Listen, Gilberto. We will combine forces and do this together—have no fear of that. Then, I presume your Guild will be the dominant cartel in Rome.”

“That is true,” agreed La Volpe reluctantly.

“If I help you in this,” said Ezio slowly, “there is a condition.”

“Yes?”

“That you shall not again threaten the unity of the Brotherhood. For that is what you almost did.”

La Volpe bowed his head. “I am schooled,” he said meekly.

“Whether we succeed in this venture of yours—or fail.”

“Whether we succeed or fail,” agreed La Volpe. “But we won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

La Volpe gave his friend a Mephistophelean grin. “Fail,” he said.

Having detailed a group of his growing militia of new recruits to help La Volpe in his efforts against the Cento Occhi, Ezio made his way back to his lodgings. He was exhausted and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke, he refilled the poison-blade’s inner vial with the venom especially prepared by Leonardo and checked and cleaned the retractable pistol, the double-blade, and the new crossbow and poison darts.

His work was interrupted by a messenger from Bartolomeo, bidding him come to the mercenaries’ barracks as quickly as possible. Sensing trouble, and worried about it, for he had hoped that Bartolomeo and his
condottieri
had the French well in check, Ezio packed the Codex weapons he judged he might need into a saddlebag and made his way with all speed to the stables, where he rented his favorite horse and set off. It was a fine day, and the road was more or less dry, since rain had held off for about a week. The countryside even seemed a little dusty as he rode through it, taking care to choose a route obscure enough not to be monitored by Borgia troops, and often taking shortcuts through woods and across fields where cows raised their heads idly from their grazing to watch him pass.

It was afternoon by the time he reached the barracks, and all seemed quiet. He noticed that, since their renovation, the ramparts and walls had taken a slight bruising from French cannonades, but the damage wasn’t serious, and a handful of men were busy on scaffolding or slung in baskets from the battlements, repairing the gouges and cracks the cannonballs had made.

He dismounted and handed the bridle to an ostler who came running up, wiping the little flecks of foam gently from his horse’s mouth—he hadn’t ridden her hard—and patting her muzzle before making his way, unannounced, across the parade ground in the direction of Bartolomeo’s quarters.

His mind was on his next step, now that Cesare’s banker had been removed, and he was considering what counteraction his enemy might take to ensure that there was no cessation in his supply of funds, so he was surprised suddenly to find himself with his nose to the tip of Bianca, Bartolomeo’s greatsword.

“Who goes there?” bellowed Bartolomeo.

“
Salve
to you, too,” rejoined Ezio.

Bartolomeo gave vent to a huge belly laugh. “Got you!”

“Teach me to be on my toes.”

“Actually”—Bartolomeo gave a theatrical wink—”I was expecting my wife!”

“Well, well.”

Bartolomeo lowered his sword and embraced Ezio. When he released him from the bear hug, his expression was more serious.

“I’m glad you’ve come, Ezio.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Look!”

Ezio followed his friend’s gaze to where a platoon of wounded mercenaries was entering the parade ground.

“The French
puttane
have got us under pressure again,” said Bartolomeo, answering Ezio’s unspoken question.

“I thought you’d barked the shins of their general—what’s his name?”

“Octavien de Valois. Thinks he’s some kind of descendant of the noble house of Valois. Some wretch’s spawn of a bastard, if you ask me.”

Bartolomeo spat as another contingent of wounded men appeared.

“Looks serious,” said Ezio.

“King Louis must have sent reinforcements to back Cesare up. Since we gave Valois such a fuckin’ bashing.” Bartolomeo scratched his beard. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“How bad is it?”

“They’ve got their fuckin’ tower back,” said Bartolomeo grumpily.

“We’ll get it back. Where’s Valois now?”

“You’re right!” Bartolomeo ignored the question. “Of course we’ll get it back! We’ll have the scoundrels in retreat before you could say
fottere!
It’s only a matter of time.”

Just then, a bullet whizzed past their ears and embedded itself in the wall behind them.

“It was so quiet when I rode up,” said Ezio. He looked at the sky. The sun had gone behind large clouds that had suddenly rolled across the sky.

“
Seemed
so quiet, you mean. They’re sneaky bastards, the French. But I’ll have Valois by the throat soon enough, mark my word.” He turned to yell an order to a sergeant who’d come running up. “Close the gates! Get those men off the outer walls!
Move!
”

Men ran hither and thither, manning the battlements, priming the cannon.