Brotherhood

FORTY-ONE

A few days later, after Bartolomeo had rounded up the remains of Valois’ dispirited army, Ezio fell in with La Volpe, both on their way to a convocation Ezio had ordered of the Brotherhood at the Assassins’ hideaway on Tiber Island.

“How do things stand here in Rome now?” was Ezio’s first question.

“Very good, Ezio. With the French army in disarray, Cesare has lost important support. Your sister, Claudia, tells us that the Spanish and the Holy Roman ambassadors have left hurriedly for home, and my men have routed the Cento Occhi.”

“There is still much to do.”

They arrived at their destination and found the rest of their companions already gathered in the inner room of the hideout. A fire blazed on a hearth in the middle of the floor.

After they had greeted each other and taken their places, Machiavelli stood and intoned in Arabic:

“Laa shay’a waqi’un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine: The Wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. We work in the Dark, to serve the Light. We are Assassins.”

Ezio stood in turn and addressed his sister. “Claudia. We dedicate our lives to protecting the freedom of humanity. Mario Auditore and our father, Giovanni, his brother, once stood at a fire similar to this one, engaged in the same task. Now, I offer the choice to you: of joining us.”

He extended his hand and she placed hers in his. Machiavelli withdrew from the fire the familiar branding iron ending in two small semicircles like the letterC, which could be brought together by means of a lever in the handle.

“Everything is permitted. Nothing is true,” he said gravely. And the others—Bartolomeo, La Volpe, and Ezio—repeated the words after him.

Just as Antonio de Magianis had once done to Ezio, so Machiavelli now solemnly applied the branding iron to Claudia’s ring finger and closed the clamp, so that the mark of a ring was burned there forever.

Claudia winced, but did not cry out. Machiavelli removed the iron and put it safely to one side.

“Welcome to our Order—our Brotherhood,” he told Claudia formally.

“Sisterhood, too?” she asked, rubbing a soothing ointment onto her branded finger from a little vial Bartolomeo had proffered her.

Machiavelli smiled. “If you like.”

All eyes were on him as he now turned to Ezio.

“We have not seen eye to eye on many issues,” he began.

“Niccolò—” Ezio interrupted, but Machiavelli held up a hand to stay him.

“But ever since the epiphany in the Vault under the Sistine Chapel, and even before then, you have proven again and again that you were exactly what our Order needed. You have led the charge against the Templars, carried ourgonfalon proud and high, and steadily rebuilt our Brotherhood after what it suffered after the debacle at Monteriggioni.” He looked around. “The moment has come, my friends, to appoint Ezio formally to the position he already occupies by common consent—that of our leader. I present to you Ezio Auditore di Firenze—the Grand Master of our Order.” He turned to Ezio. “My friend, from henceforth you will be known as il Mentore—the guardian of our Brotherhood and of our secrets.”

Ezio’s head swam with emotion, though still a part of him wanted to wrench itself away from this life in which the great task demanded every waking hour and allowed few even for sleep. Still, he stepped forward and austerely repeated the words central to the Creed:

“Where other men are limited by morality and law, we must, in quest of our sacred goals, always remember: Everything is permitted. Nothing is true. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.”

The others repeated the formula after him.

“And now it is time,” said Machiavelli, “for our newest member to take her Leap of Faith.”

They made their way to the Church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin and climbed its bell tower. Carefully guided by Bartolomeo and La Volpe, Claudia fearlessly threw herself into the void just as the golden orb of the sun broke free of the eastern horizon and caught the folds of her silver dress in its light and turned them golden, too. Ezio watched her land safely and walk with Bartolomeo and La Volpe in the direction of a nearby colonnade. Now, Machiavelli and Ezio were left alone. Just as Machiavelli was about to make his Leap, Ezio stopped him.

“Why the sudden change of heart, Niccolò?”

Machiavelli smiled. “What change of heart? I have always stood by you. I have always been loyal to the cause. My fault is independent thinking. That is what caused the doubts in your mind—and Gilberto’s. Now we are free of all that unpleasantness. I never sought the leadership. I am…more of an observer. Now, let us take our Leap of Faith together, as friends and as fellow warriors of the Creed!”

He held out his hand and, also smiling, Ezio took it in a firm grasp. Then they threw themselves off the roof of the campanile together.

Scarcely had they landed and rejoined their companions than a courier rode up. Breathless, he announced, “Maestro Machiavelli, Cesare has returned to Rome alone from his latest foray in the Romagna. He rides for the Castel Sant’Angelo.”

“Grazie, Alberto,” said Machiavelli, as the courier wheeled his horse around and sped back the way he had come.

“Well?” Ezio asked him.

Machiavelli showed his palms. “The decision is now yours, not mine.”

“Niccolò, you had better not stop telling me what you think. I now seek the opinion of my most trusted adviser.”

Machiavelli smiled. “In this case you know my opinion already. It hasn’t changed. The Borgia must be eradicated. Go and kill them,Mentore. Finish the job you have started.”

“Good advice.”

“I know.” Machiavelli looked at him appraisingly.

“What is it?” Ezio asked.

“I had been thinking of writing a book about Cesare’s methods. Now I think I will balance it with an examination of yours.”

“If you’re writing a book about me,” said Ezio, “better make it a short one!”