Brotherhood

TWENTY-SIX

Once he was sure he had shaken off any possible pursuers, Ezio turned his horse. He was loath to lose such a good animal, but he took it to the stables where he and Machiavelli had hired horses what seemed like a lifetime ago and turned it over to the chief ostler there. The stables were neat and clean and clearly doing a thriving business, in a district that seemed to have shaken off Borgia control and, for the moment at least, maintained its independence. Then he made his way back toward Tiber Island on foot. The Assassins’ secret ferry was waiting at the bank and, once on the island itself, he hastened toward the hideout.

Inside, he found that Caterina had arrived safely. She was lying on a makeshift bed near the door, being tended by a doctor. She smiled when she saw him, and tried to sit up, but the doctor gently restrained her.

“Ezio! I am relieved to see you safe.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Where is Machiavelli?” There was no return of his pressure, but perhaps she was still too weak.

“I don’t know.”

La Volpe emerged from the shadows at the end of the room. “Ezio! Good to see you again!” He embraced the younger man. “I brought yourcontessa here. As for Machiavelli…”

But just then the main door swung open and Machiavelli himself came in. He looked drawn.

“Where have you been?” asked La Volpe.

“Looking for Ezio—not that I am accountable to you,” said Machiavelli, and Ezio was saddened to note the tension that still existed between his two friends. Machiavelli turned to Ezio and, without ceremony, asked: “What of Cesare and Rodrigo?”

“Cesare left almost immediately for Urbino. As for Rodrigo, he was at the Vatican.”

“That is odd,” said Machiavelli. “Rodrigo should have been in the Castel.”

“Very odd indeed,” La Volpe put in evenly.

If he’d noticed the dig, Machiavelli ignored it. “What a wasted opportunity,” he mused. Then, recollecting himself, he said to Caterina, “Oh, no offense,Contessa. We are glad to see you safe.”

“I take none,” she said.

“Now that Cesare has gone to Urbino, we must concentrate on building our forces here.”

Machiavelli raised his eyebrows. “But I thought we intended to strike now! We should go after him and cut him down where he stands.”

“That would be impossible,” Caterina said. “I have seen his army. It is massive. You would never reach him.”

Ezio said, “I say we work here. In Rome. Here, we have already made a good start. We should continue to erode the Borgia’s influence, while restoring our own. And, in fact, I want to begin immediately.”

“You speak as if you were already our leader,” said Machiavelli. “But the post has not been discussed, let alone ratified, by our council.”

“And I say we need a leader, and we need one right away,” countered La Volpe. “We have no time for councils and ratifications. We need to consolidate the Brotherhood once again, and, for my money, Ezio is the right man for the job. Machiavelli, I appeal to you—you and I are two of the most senior Assassins left. Bartolomeo is bound to agree. Let us make this decision now—keep it secret if you like—and later, we can put it to a formal vote.”

Machiavelli seemed to be on the point of speech, but then let it go and simply shrugged.

“I will not fail you,” Ezio said. “Gilberto, I’d like you to bring Bartolomeo and my sister, Claudia, here. There are matters to discuss. Niccolò, please come with me.”

On his way out, Ezio paused by Caterina’s bed. “Take care of her,” he said to the doctor.

“Where are we going?” Machiavelli said, once they were back in the city center.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

He led the way to the nearest market square. Half of it was open for business: there was a baker; a butcher was swatting flies away from his wares; and a greengrocer had a selection of rather tired-looking produce on sale. Early as it was, it was the wine shops that were doing the best business. And, as Ezio expected, a small knot of Borgia guards were duffing up the hapless owner of a leather goods stall.

“Look,” said Ezio, as they blended in with the small crowd of shoppers.

“I know what is going on,” said Machiavelli.

“I know you do, Niccolò,” said Ezio. “Forgive me, but you see the big picture. You understand what is to be done politically to break the Borgia, and I for one do not doubt your sincerity in this.” He paused. “But we must start at a more fundamental level. The Borgia take what they want from the people with complete impunity, to maintain their power.”

They watched the guards push the man to the ground, then, laughing, help themselves to what they fancied from his stall and move on. The man picked himself up, watched them go in impotent rage, and then, close to tears, began to rearrange his goods. A woman came up to comfort him, but he shook her off. Nevertheless she stayed, hovering near him, care and concern in her eyes.

“Why did you not help him?” asked Machiavelli. “Send them packing?”

“Look,” said Ezio, “helping one man is good, but it will not solve the problem. They will come again, when we are not here, and they will do the same again. Look at the quality of the stuff on offer here. The vegetables are old, the meat is flyblown, and the bread, no doubt, is hard. The best goes to the Borgia. And why do you think so many people are drinking?”

Machiavelli said, “I do not know.”

“Because they are in pain,” Ezio replied. “They are without hope and they are oppressed. They want to blot it all out. But we canchange that.”

“How?”

“By recruiting them to our cause.” He spread his arms. “These people—these are the ones who will form the backbone of our resistance to the Borgia.”

“We’ve talked of this before,” said Machiavelli sharply. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m going to start with that stallholder. To win this war, Niccolò, we need loyal soldiers—however they fight for us. We must sow the seeds of rebellion in their minds.” He paused, then continued earnestly, “By recruiting those whom the bullying State has made its enemies, we arm the people who have been disarmed by the Borgia.”

Machiavelli looked at his friend long and hard. “Go, then,” he said. “Go, and recruit our first novices.”

“Oh, I intend to,” said Ezio. “And you will see that from the group of determined men and women I gather around us, I will forge a sword capable of cutting the limbs and head from the trunk of the Borgia—and of the Templars themselves.”