Brotherhood

THIRTY-ONE

Ezio followed the senator through another maze of streets, though these, leading closer to the Tiber, were also more familiar to him, and he passed monuments, squares, and fountains familiar to him, as well as building works—for the Borgia spent lavishly onpalazzi and theaters and even galleries in quest of their own self-aggrandizement. At last Egidio halted in an attractive square formed by large private houses on two sides and a row of expensive shops on a third. On the fourth was a well-tended little park that sloped down toward the river. This was Egidio’s destination. He selected a stone bench and took up a position by it in the gathering gloom, looking left and right, but apparently unruffled. Ezio admired his poise—and it was also useful. Any sign of nervousness might have put the Banker’s minions on their guard.

Ezio took up a position by a cedar tree and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Minutes after Egidio’s arrival, a tall man dressed in a livery he did not recognize came up to him. A badge on his shoulder showed, on one half of the crest, a red bull in a golden field, and on the other, broad black and gold horizontal stripes. Ezio was none the wiser for this.

“Good evening, Egidio,” the newcomer said. “It seems that you are ready to die like a gentleman!”

“That’s hardly friendly of you,Capitano,” replied Egidio. “Seeing that I have the money.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, that makes all the difference. The Banker will be most pleased. You came alone, I trust?”

“Do you see anyone else here?”

“Just follow me,furbacchione.”

They moved off, retracing their steps eastward, and crossed the Tiber. Ezio followed them at a discreet distance, but staying within earshot.

“Is there any news of my brother,Capitano?” asked Egidio as they walked.

“I can only tell you that Duke Cesare wishes very much to interview him. As soon as he returns from the Romagna, that is.”

“He’s all right, I hope.”

“If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear.”

They continued in silence, and at the Church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, turned north, in the direction of the Pantheon.

“What’ll happen to my money?” said Egidio. Ezio realized that he was pumping the captain for Ezio’s benefit. Clever man.

“Your money?” The captain snickered. “I hope all the interest’s there.”

“It is.”

“It had better be.”

“Well?”

“The Banker likes to be generous to his friends. He treats them well. He can afford to.”

“Treat you well, does he?”

“I like to think so.”

“How generous he is,” observed Egidio, with such heavy sarcasm that even the captain caught it.

“What did you say?” he asked threateningly, breaking his stride.

“Oh—nothing.”

“Come on—we’re there.”

The great bulk of the Pantheon rose out of the gloom in its cramped piazza. The tall Corinthian portico of the fifteen-hundred-year-old building, constructed as a temple to all the Roman gods but long since consecrated as a church, towered above them. In its shadow three men were waiting. Two were dressed similarly to the captain. The third was in civilian dress, a tall but dry and withered-looking man, whose fine robes sat ill on him. They greeted the captain, and the civilian nodded coldly at Egidio.

“Luigi! Luigi Torcelli!” said Egidio loudly, for Ezio’s benefit. “It’s good to see you again. Still the Banker’s agent, I see. Thought you’d have been promoted by now. Desk job and all that.”

“Shut up,” said the withered man.

“He’s got the money,” said the captain.

Torcelli’s eyes glittered. “Well, well! Thatwill put my master in a good mood. He’s having a rather special party this evening, so I’m delivering your payment to him personally, at his palazzo. And I must hurry. Time is money. So give it here!”

Egidio clearly hated to comply, but the two underling guards leveled their halberds at him and he handed the bags over.“Oof!” he said. “It’s heavy. Glad to get shot of them!”

“Shut up,” snapped the agent once again. To the guards he said, “Hold him here until I get back.”

With that, he disappeared inside the cavernous, deserted church, closing its mighty, heavy doors firmly behind him.

Ezio needed to follow him, but there was no way he’d get through those doors, and anyway, first he had to get past the guards undetected. But Egidio must have guessed this, for he started up a line of banter with the uniforms, irritating them, but, above all, distracting them.

“Well, why not release me? I’ve paid up,” he said indignantly.

“What if you’ve sold us short?” replied the captain. “The money has to be counted first. You must see that.”

“What? Ten thousand ducats? It’ll take all night!”

“It has to be done.”

“If Luigi’s late, he’ll get the stick. I can imagine the kind of man the Banker must be!”

“Shutup.”

“You people certainly have a very limited vocabulary. Look, think of poor old Torcelli—if he doesn’t show up with the money soon, the Banker probably won’t let him join in the fun.Does he let his lackeys join in the fun?”

The captain cuffed the senator impatiently on the head, and Egidio fell silent, still grinning. He’d seen Ezio slip past and begin to climb the façade of the building in the direction of the dome behind it.

Once on the roof of the circular edifice, which the classical frontage partially concealed, Ezio made his way toward the round opening—the oculus—he knew was at its center. It would be a test of all his climbing skills, but once inside, he would find the agent and put the next phase of the plan, which was rapidly forming in his mind, into operation. The agent was about his size, though far less muscular, and his flowing robes would hide Ezio’s physique—if all went well.

The trickiest part would be lowering himself through the aperture at the dome’s apex and then finding some way of descending from there. But he’d been to the church before and knew that censers, hanging far below, were suspended by chains from this very roof. If he could reach one of them…if it would take his weight…

Well, there was no other way. Ezio knew full well that even he couldn’t climb, flylike, across the inner curve of a dome, coffered though it was, 140 feet above the cold grey flagstones of the floor.

He hung over the edge of the oculus and peered into the gloom beneath. A pinpoint of light far below showed where the agent was, seated on a bench that ran around the edge of the wall. He’d have the money next to him and be counting it by candlelight. Next, Ezio looked around for the chains. None was within reach, but if he could just…

He changed his position and lowered his legs over the edge of the circular opening, gripping it with both hands. It was a huge risk, but the chains looked solid and old, and far heavier than he’d thought. He looked at their fixtures in the ceiling, and as far as he could see they were set fast in the solid stone.

Well, there was nothing for it. Pushing hard with his hands, he threw himself forward and sideways into the void.

For a moment it seemed to him that he was suspended in the air, that the air even held him up, as water does a swimmer. But then he started to fall.

His arms flailed forward and he willed his body toward the nearest chain. And caught it! The links slipped under his gloves and he slid several feet before he was able to get a firm grip, but then he found himself swaying gently in the darkness. He listened. He had heard no sound, and it was too dark for the agent to see the chain swinging, from far below where he sat. Ezio looked toward the light. It still burned steadily and there were no calls of alarm.

Steadily, he lowered himself, down and down, until he was near the floor, perhaps twenty feet above it. He was quite close to the agent and could see his silhouette as he hunched over the money bags, the gold coins glinting in the the candlelight. Ezio could hear the man muttering and the gentle, rhythmic click of an abacus.

Suddenly, though, there was an awful, tearing sound from above. The fixture of the chain in the roof could bear the strain of the extra weight no longer and had ripped loose. Ezio let go of the chain as it went slack in his hands and threw himself forward, toward the candle. As he sailed through the air, he heard a startled “Who’s there?” from the agent, and a seemingly unending rattle as 140 feet of chain fell snaking to the floor. Ezio thanked God the church doors were closed: their thickness would deaden any sound from within.

Ezio fell upon the agent with his full weight, knocking the breath out of him. Both men sprawled on the floor, the agent spread-eagled beneath Ezio.

He wriggled free, but Ezio had him by the arm.

“Who are you? Christ protect me!” said the agent, terrified.

“I am sorry, friend,” said Ezio, releasing the hidden-blade.

“What? No! No!” the agent jabbered. “Look, take the money! It’s yours! It’syours!”

Ezio adjusted his grip and drew the man close.

“Get away from me!”

“Requiescat in pace,” said Ezio.

Leaving the body on the floor, Ezio quickly stripped the agent of his outer robes and put them on over his own, drawing a scarf over his lower face and tipping the agent’s hat down low. The robes were a little snug on him, but it was not a noticeably bad fit. Then he finished transferring the money from the bags into the metal box the agent had brought for the purpose, where much of it was already neatly stacked. To it he added the account book, and, abandoning the abacus and the leather bags, he tucked the heavy box under his arm and made for the door. He had heard enough of the agent’s manner of speech to be able to emulate it tolerably, he hoped. Anyway, he’d have to chance it.

As he approached the door, it opened and the captain called through it, “Everything going well in there?”

“Just done.”

“Well, hurry up, Luigi, or we’ll be late.”

Ezio emerged into the portico.

“The count is complete?”

Ezio nodded.

“Va bene,” said the captain. Then, turning to the men who held Egidio, he crisply ordered: “Kill him.”

“Wait!” said Ezio.

“What?”

“Don’t kill him.”

The captain looked surprised. “But that’s…that’s hardly usual procedure, is it, Luigi? Besides, do you know what this guy’sdone?”

“I have my orders. From the Banker himself. This man is to be spared.”

“May I ask why?”

“Do you question the commands of the Banker?”

The captain shrugged and nodded to the guards, who let go their hold of the senator.

“Lucky you,” he said to Egidio, who had the sense not to glance at Ezio before hastening off, without another word.

The captain turned to Ezio. “OK, Luigi. Lead the way.”

Ezio hesitated. He was stumped, as he had no idea where to go. He hefted the box. “This is heavy. Have the guards carry it between them.”

“Certainly.”

He passed the box over but still didn’t move.

The guards waited.

“Ser Luigi,” said the captain after a few moments, “with respect, we must get this to the Banker on time. Of course, I am not questioning your authority…but should we not get going?”

What was the point of buying time to think? Ezio knew he’d have to work on a hunch. It was likely that the Banker would live somewhere in the vicinity either of the Castel Sant’Angelo or of the Vatican. But which? He plumped for the Castel Sant’Angelo and started off in a westerly direction. His security detail looked at one another, but followed him. Even so, he sensed their disquiet, and indeed, after they had gone a little way, he heard the two guardsmen whispering:

“Is this some kind of test?”

“Not sure.”

“Perhaps we’re too early?”

“Maybe we’re taking a roundabout route deliberately—for some reason.”

Finally the captain tapped him on the shoulder and said: “Luigi—are you all right?”

“Of course I am!”

“Then—again with respect—why are you taking us toward the Tiber?”

“Security reasons.”

“Ah—I did wonder. Normally we just go straight there.”

“This is a particularly important consignment,” said Ezio, hoping it was. But the captain didn’t bat an eyelid.

While they had stopped to talk, one of the guards muttered to the other, “Load of rubbish, if you ask me. This kind of arsing about makes me wish I were still a blacksmith.”

“I’m starving. I want to go home,” muttered the other. “Stuff the security. It’s only a couple of blocks north of here.”

Hearing this, Ezio breathed a sigh of relief, for his mind had flashed on the location of the palazzo of the other banker, Agostino Chigi, who dealt with the Pope’s affairs. That was a little to the northeast of where they were now. It stood to reason that Cesare’s banker’s place would not be far away—in the financial district. What a fool he’d been not to think of that before. But it had been another busy day.

“We’ve made enough of a detour,” he said decisively. “We’ll take a direct route from here.”

He set off toward the Palazzo Chigi and was reassured by the sense of relief he got from his companions. After a while, the captain even decided to take the lead. They adopted a brisk pace and very soon reached a district of clean, broad streets. The large and well-lit marble edifice they then headed for had different guards on duty at the foot of its entrance steps and in front of the imposing double front door at their head.

Evidently, Ezio’s party was expected.

“Not before time,” said the leader of the new guards, who clearly outranked the captain. Turning to Ezio, he added, “Hand over the box to my men, Luigi. I’ll see the Banker gets it. But you’d better come, too. There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.” He looked around. “Where’s Senator Troche?”

“Dealt with as ordered,” said Ezio quickly, before anyone else could answer.

“Good,” replied the guard leader gruffly.

Ezio followed the box, now in the hands of the new guards, up the steps. Behind him, the captain made to follow.

“Not you,” said the guard leader.

“We can’t go in?”

“Not tonight. You and your men are to join the patrol here. And you might send one of them to fetch another detachment. We’re on full security. Orders of Duke Cesare.”

“Porco puttana,” growled one of Ezio’s guards, the former blacksmith, to his mate.

Ezio pricked up his ears.Cesare? He’s here?—he thought to himself, his mind racing, and he went through the open doors into an entrance hall ablaze with light and, luckily, thronged with people.

The captain and the guard leader were still arguing about the extra patrol duty when a detachment of papal city police came up to them on the double. They were out of breath, and concern showed on their faces.

“What is it, Sergeant?” the guard leader said to their commander.

“Perdone, Colonnello—but we’ve just been on the beat near the Pantheon—the doors were open—”

“And?”

“And so we investigated. I sent some men in—”

“Spit it out, man!”

“We foundMesser Torcelli, sir. Murdered.”

“Luigi?” The guard leader turned to look up at the front door, through which Ezio had just disappeared. “Nonsense. He arrived here a few minutes ago. With the money. Must be some mistake.”