Renaissance

23

It took a long time for Ezio, riding by day and taking what little rest he could when changing his horse, to arrive in the Appenines, and when he did, he knew the search for Checco Orsi would take him even longer. But he also knew that if Checco had returned to his family's seat at Nubilaria, he would be able to cut him off on the road that led from there south on the long, winding route it took to Rome. There was no guarantee that Checco wouldn't have gone directly to the Holy See, but Ezio thought that with such a precious cargo as the Apple, his adversary would first seek safety where he was known, and from there send couriers to establish whether the Spaniard had returned to the Vatican before making contact with him there.

Ezio therefore decided to take the Nubilaria road himself, and, entering the town in secret, set about discovering what he could about Checco's whereabouts. But Checco's own spies were everywhere, and it wasn't long before Ezio learned that Checco was aware that he was closing in, and was planning to take off in a caravan of two carriages with the Apple, in order to escape from him and foil his plans.

On the morning Checco planned to depart, Ezio was ready, keeping a close watch on the southern gates of Nubilaria, and soon the two carriages he'd been expecting rumbled out through them. Ezio mounted his horse to give chase, but at the last moment a third, lighter carriage, driven by an Orsi henchman, came fast out of a side street and deliberately blocked Ezio's path, causing his horse to rear and throw him. With no time to waste, Ezio was obliged to abandon his steed, and, jumping up, clambered on to the Orsi carriage, felling its driver with a single blow and throwing him to the ground. He whipped up the horses and gave chase.

It wasn't long before he had his adversary's vehicles in sight, but they saw him too and increased their speed. As they pelted down the treacherous mountain road, Checco's escort-carriage, filled with Orsi soldiers who were preparing to fire their crossbows at Ezio, took a corner too fast. The horses broke their traces and raced on round the bend ahead, but the carriage, its steering-gear gone and its hafts empty, shot straight on over the edge of the road and crashed hundreds of feet into the valley below. Under his breath, Ezio thanked fate for her kindness. He urged his own horses on, worried that he would drive them too hard and cause their hearts to burst, but they were pulling less weight than the animals pulling Checco's carriage and steadily made up the distance that separated Ezio from his quarry.

As Ezio drew level, the Orsi coachman struck out at him with his whip, but Ezio caught it in his hand and pulled it free. Then, when the right moment came, he let go of his own reins and leapt from his carriage to the roof of Checco's. In panic, the horses of his carriage, relieved of both the weight and the control of a driver, bolted, and careered out of sight down the road ahead of them.

'Get the hell off!' yelled Checco's driver, alarmed. 'What in God's name do you think you are doing? Are you crazy?' But without his whip, he was finding it harder to control his own team of horses. He had no leisure to fight.

From inside the carriage, Checco himself was shouting, 'Don't be a fool, Ezio! You'll never get out of this!' Leaning half out of the window, he lunged at Ezio with his sword while the coachman frantically tried to control the horses. 'Get off my carriage, now!'

The driver tried deliberately swerving the carriage to throw Ezio off, but he clung on for dear life. The carriage veered dangerously and, at last, as they were passing a disused marble quarry, it ran completely out of control, crashing on to its side and throwing the driver heavily on to a pile of slabs of marble of all sizes that had been sawn out by the masons and then abandoned owing to faults that ran through the stone. The horses were pulled down in their traces, pawing the ground in frantic terror. Ezio jumped clear, landed in a crouch, and had his sword out ready for Checco, who, winded but unhurt, was clambering out, fury in his face.

'Give me the Apple, Checco. It's all over.'

'Imbecile! It'll be over when you're dead !' Checco swung his sword at his opponent, and immediately they were cutting and slashing at each other dangerously close to the edge of the road.

'Give me the Apple, Checco, and I'll let you go. You have no idea of the power of what you have!'

'You'll never have it. And when my Master does, he will have undreamed-of power, and Lodovico and I will be there to enjoy our share of it!'

'Lodovico is dead! And do you really think your Master will let you live, once your usefulness to him is over? You already know too much!'

'You killed my brother? Then this is for you, for his sake!' Checco rushed at him.

They closed, blades flashing, and Checco struck at Ezio again, his sword deflected by the metal arm-guard. The fact that his well-aimed blow had not struck home momentarily put Checco off his guard, but he quickly recovered and struck a blow at Ezio's right arm, cutting deeply into his bicep and causing him to let his weapon fall.

Checco gave a hoarse cry of triumph. He held the point of his sword at Ezio's throat. 'Don't beg for mercy,' he said, 'for I'll give you none.' And he drew back his arm to drive in the fatal blow. At that instant, Ezio unleashed the double-bladed dagger from its mechanism on his left forearm and, swinging round with lightning speed, rammed it into Checco's chest.

Checco stood stock still for a long moment, looking down at the blood dripping on to the white roadway. He dropped his sword and fell against Ezio, clutching on to him for support. Their faces were close. Checco smiled. 'So, you have your prize again,' he whispered, as the life-blood pumped out faster from his chest.

'Was it really worth it?' asked Ezio. 'So much carnage!'

The man gave what sounded like a chuckle, or it might have been a cough, as more blood flooded his mouth: 'Look, Ezio, you know how hard it will be for you to hold on to a thing of such value for long.' He fought for breath. 'I am dying today, but it will be you who dies tomorrow.' And as the expression faded from his face and his eyes rolled upwards, his body sank to the ground at Ezio's feet.

'We shall see, my friend,' Ezio told him. 'Rest in peace.'

He felt groggy. Blood was pouring from the wound in his arm, but he made himself walk to the carriage and calmed the horses, cutting them free of their traces. Then he searched the interior and quickly located the teak box. Opening it quickly to ensure that its contents were safe, he reclasped it shut again and tucked it firmly under his good arm. He glanced across the

quarry, where the driver lay inert. It wasn't necessary to verify that the man was dead, for the broken angle of the body told him everything.

The horses had not moved far, and Ezio went over to them, wondering if he had the strength to mount one and use it at least to get him part of the way back to Forli. He hoped he would find everything there as he had left it, for his tracing of Checco had taken far longer than he'd hoped or expected. But he had never pretended that his work would be easy, and the Apple was back in Assassin control. The time he had spent had not been in vain.

He looked at the horses again, deciding that the lead-beast would be his best choice of the four. He went to put his hand on its mane, to pull himself up, for it was not equipped with riding tack, but as he did so he staggered.

He had lost more blood than he'd thought. He would have to bind up his wound somehow before he did anything else. He tethered the horse to a tree, and cut a strip from Checco's shirt to use as a bandage. Then he dragged the body out of sight. If anyone came by, they would assume, if they did not look too carefully, that Ezio and the driver had been the victims of a tragic road accident. But it was getting late, and there would be few travellers abroad at this hour.

However, the effort drained the last of his resources. Even I have to rest, he thought, and the thought was a sweet one. He sat down in the shade of the tree and listened to the sound of the horse as it gently grazed. He placed the teak box on the ground beside him, and took one last cautious look round, for this was the last place he should remain for long; but his eyelids were heavy, and he did not see the silent watcher concealed by a tree on the knoll which rose above the road behind him. When Ezio awoke, darkness had fallen, but there was just enough moonlight for him to see a figure moving silently near him.

Ezio's right bicep ached dully, but when he tried to raise himself with his good left arm, he found he could not move it. Someone had brought a slab of marble from the quarry and used it to pin the arm down. He struggled, using his legs to try to stand, but he could not. He looked down to where he had left the box containing the Apple.

It was gone.

The figure, who was dressed, Ezio saw, in the black cappa and white habit of a Dominican monk, had noticed him wake, and turned to him, adjusting the marble slab so that it held him more securely. Ezio noticed that a finger was missing from one of the monk's hands.

'Wait!' he said. 'Who are you? What are you doing?'

The monk didn't reply. Ezio could see the box as the monk stooped to pick it up again. 'Don't touch that! Whatever you do, don't -'

But the monk opened the box, and a light as bright as the sun shone forth.

Ezio thought he heard the monk give a sigh of satisfaction, before he passed out again. When he woke again, it was morning. The horses were all gone, but with daylight, some of his strength had returned. He looked at the marble slab. It felt heavy, but it did move slightly when his arm moved under it. He looked around. Just within reach of his right hand he could see a stout branch that must have fallen from the tree at some point in the past but which was still green enough to be strong. Gritting his teeth, he picked it up and manoeuvred it under the slab. His right arm hurt like hell and started to bleed again as he wedged one end of the branch under the slab and heaved. A half-forgotten line from his schooldays had flashed through his mind: Give me a lever long enough, and I will lift the earth. He pushed hard. The slab started to move, but then his strength failed him and it fell back into place again. He lay back, rested, and tried again.

At the third attempt, screaming inwardly with pain, and thinking the muscles of his wounded right arm would tear through the skin, he pushed again, as if his very life depended on it, and, finally, the slab rolled over on to the ground.

Gingerly, he sat up. His left arm was sore, but nothing was broken.

Why the monk had not killed him as he slept, he had no idea. Perhaps murder was not part of the Man of God's plan. But one thing was certain - the Dominican, and the Apple, were gone.

Dragging himself to his feet, he found his way to a nearby stream and drank thirstily before bathing his wound and redressing it. Then he set off eastwards, back over the mountains towards Forli.

At last, after a journey of many days, he saw the towers of the town in the distance. But he was tired, drained by his unremitting task, by his failure, by his loneliness. On the journey back he had had plenty of time to think about Cristina and what might have been, had he not been given this Cross to bear. But since he had, he could not change his life; nor, as he realized, would he.

He had reached the far end of the bridge to the southern gate and was close enough to see people on the battlements when exhaustion finally overcame him, and he passed out.

When he next awoke, it was to find himself lying in a bed, covered in pristine linen sheets, out on a sunny terrace shaded by vines. A cool hand stroked his forehead, and pressed a beaker of water to his lips.

'Ezio! Thank God you are back with us. Are you all right? What happened to you?' The questions flowed from Caterina's mouth with all her usual impetuosity.

'I... I don't know.'

'They saw you from the ramparts. I came out personally. You had been travelling for I don't know how long, and you have a horrific wound.'

Ezio struggled with his memory. 'Something is coming back to me now. I had retrieved the Apple from Checco. but there was another man who came soon afterwards - he took the Apple!'

'Who?'

'He wore a black hood, like a monk - and I think. had a finger missing!' Ezio struggled to sit up. 'How long have I been lying here? I have to go - right away!' he started to rise, but it was as if his limbs were made of lead, and as he moved, a terrible dizziness overcame him, so he was obliged to lie back again.

'Whoa! What did that monk do to me?'

Caterina leaned over him. 'You can't go anywhere yet, Ezio. Even you need time to recover if you are to fight the battles well which lie ahead; and I can see a long and arduous journey in front of you. But cheer up! Niccolo has returned to Florence. He will look after matters there. And your other fellow Assassins are vigilant. So stay a while.' She kissed his forehead, then, tentatively at first, his lips. 'And if there is anything I can do to. hasten your recovery, you have only to say the word.' Her hand began very gently to wander downwards beneath the sheets until she found her objective. 'Wow,' she smiled. 'I think I am already succeeding - a little.'

'You are quite a woman, Caterina Sforza.'

She laughed. 'Tesoro, if ever I were to write the story of my life, I would shock the world.'

Ezio was strong and still, at thirty years old, a young man in his prime. Moreover, he had undergone some of the toughest training known to man, so it was really no wonder that he was up and about again sooner than most would have been. But his right arm had been severely weakened by Checco's blow, and he knew he needed to work hard to recover the full strength he required to resume his quest. He made himself be patient, and under Caterina's strict but understanding guidance, spent his enforced time at Forli in quiet contemplation, when he could often be found sitting under the vines lost in one of Poliziano's books, or, more frequently, in vigorous exercise of every kind.

And then a morning came when Caterina arrived in his chamber to find him dressed for travel, and a page helping him pull on his riding boots. She sat on the bed beside him.

'So the time has come?' she said.

'Yes. I can delay no longer.'

She looked sad and left the room, to return not long afterwards with a scroll. 'Well, the time had to come,' she said, 'and God knows your task is more important than our enjoyment - for which I hope another time will come round again soon!' She showed him the scroll. 'Here - I have brought you a leaving-present.'

'What is it?'

'Something you will need.'

She unrolled it and Ezio saw that it was a map of the entire peninsula, from Lombardy to Calabria, and all across it, as well as the roads and towns, a number of crosses were marked on it, in red ink.

Ezio looked up at her. 'It's the map Machiavelli spoke of. Your husband's -'

'My late husband's, mio caro. Niccolo and I made a couple of important discoveries while you were on your travels. The first is that we timed our. removal of dear Girolamo rather well, for he'd just about completed his work on this. The second is that it is of inestimable value, for even if the Templars have the Apple, they cannot hope to find the Vault without the Map.'

'You know about the Vault?'

'Darling, you can be just a tad naive at times. Of course I do.' She became more businesslike. 'But fully to disarm our enemies, you must recover the Apple. This map will help you bring your full great task to an end.'

As she handed him the Map, their fingers touched, lingered and entwined. And their eyes would not leave each other's.

'There is an abbey in the Wetlands near here,' Caterina said at last. 'Dominicans. Their Order wears black hoods. I'd start there.' Her eyes were shining and she looked away. 'Now go! Find us that troublesome monk!'

Ezio smiled. 'I think I'm going to miss you, Caterina.'

She smiled back, a bit too brightly. For once in her life she was finding it hard to be brave. 'Oh, I know you will.'