Assassin's Creed: Renaissance (36 page)

‘That’s what’s in this box? An
apple
? It must be a pretty special one,’ said Ezio, while in his mind his uncle’s voice reverberated:
a piece of Eden
. ‘Come and take it from me!’

Rodrigo sliced at Ezio with his blade, slashing his tunic and drawing blood at the first pass.

‘Are you alone, Ezio? Where are your Assassin friends now?’

‘I don’t need their help to deal with you!’

Ezio used his daggers to cut and slash, and his left-forearm guard-brace to parry Rodrigo’s blows. But, though he landed no cut with the poison-blade, his double-blade stabbed through the velvet robe of the Cardinal and he saw it stained with the man’s blood.

‘You little shit,’ bellowed Rodrigo, in pain. ‘I can see that I’ll need help to master you! Guards! Guards!’

Suddenly, a dozen armed men bearing the Borgia crest on their tunics stormed into the courtyard where Ezio and the Cardinal were confronting one another. Ezio knew there was precious little poison left in the hilt of his right-hand dagger. He leapt back, the better to defend himself against Rodrigo’s reinforcements, and at that moment one of the new guards stooped to sweep the teak box off the ground and hand it to his Master.

‘Thank you,
uomo coraggioso
!’

Ezio, meanwhile, was seriously outmatched, but he fought with a strategic coldness born of an absolute desire to recapture the box and its contents. Sheathing his Codex blades, he reached for his bandolier of throwing-knives and shot them from his hands with deadly accuracy, first bringing down the
uomo coraggioso
and then, with a second knife, knocking the box from Rodrigo’s gnarled hands.

The Spaniard bent to pick it up again and make his retreat, when –
shoof!
– another throwing-knife hurtled through the air to clatter against a stone column inches from the Cardinal’s face. But this knife had not been thrown by Ezio.

Ezio whirled round to see a familiar, jovial, bearded figure behind him. Older, perhaps, and greyer, and heavier, but no less deft. ‘Uncle Mario!’ he exclaimed. ‘I knew I’d seen you earlier!’

‘Can’t let you have all the fun,’ said Mario. ‘And don’t worry,
nipote
. You are not alone!’

But a Borgia guard was bearing down on Ezio, halberd raised. The moment before he could deliver the crushing blow which would have sent Ezio into an endless night, a crossbow bolt appeared as if by magic, buried in the man’s forehead. He dropped his weapon and fell forwards, a look of disbelief etched on his face. Ezio looked round again and saw –
La Volpe
!

‘What are you doing here, Fox?’

‘We heard you might need some back-up,’ said the Fox, reloading quickly as more guards began to pour out of the building. It was as well that more reinforcements, in the shape of Antonio and Bartolomeo, appeared on Ezio’s side.

‘Don’t let Borgia get away with that box!’ yelled Antonio.

Bartolomeo was using his greatsword Bianca like a scythe, cutting a swathe through the ranks of guards as they tried to overpower him by sheer force of numbers. And gradually the tide of battle turned back in favour of the Assassins and their allies.

‘We’ve got them covered now
, nipote
,’ called Mario. ‘Look to the Spaniard!’

Ezio turned to see Rodrigo making for a doorway at the rear of the loggia and hastened to cut him off, but the Cardinal, sword in hand, was ready for him. ‘This is a losing battle for you, my boy,’ he snarled. ‘You cannot stop what is written! You’ll die by my hand like your father and your brothers -for death is the fate that awaits all who attempt to defy the Templars.’

Nevertheless, Rodrigo’s voice lacked conviction and, looking round, Ezio saw that the last of his guards had fallen. He blocked Rodrigo’s retreat at the threshold of the doorway, raising his own sword and preparing to strike, saying, ‘This is for my father!’ But the Cardinal ducked the blow, knocking Ezio off balance, yet dropping the precious box as he darted through the doorway to save his skin.

‘Make no mistake,’ he said balefully as he left. ‘I live to fight another day! And then I’ll make sure your death is as painful as it will be slow.’

And he was gone.

Ezio, winded, was trying to catch his breath and struggle to his feet when a woman’s hand reached down to help him. Looking up, he saw that the owner of the hand was – Paola!

‘He’s gone,’ she said, smiling. ‘But it doesn’t matter. We have what we came for.’

‘No! Did you hear what he said? I must get after him and finish this!’

‘Calm yourself,’ said another woman, coming up. It was Teodora. Looking round the assembled company, Ezio could see all his allies, Mario, the Fox, Antonio, Bartolomeo, Paola and Teodora. And there was someone else. A pale, dark-haired young man with a thoughtful, humorous face.

‘What are you all doing here?’ asked Ezio, sensing a tension among them.

‘Perhaps the same thing as you, Ezio,’ said the young stranger. ‘Hoping to see the Prophet appear.’

Ezio was confused and irritated. ‘No! I came here to kill the Spaniard! I couldn’t care less about your Prophet – if he exists at all. He certainly isn’t here.’

‘Isn’t he?’ The young man paused, looking steadily at Ezio. ‘
You
are.’

‘What?’

‘A prophet’s arrival was foretold. And here you have been among us for so long without our guessing the truth. All along you were the One we sought.’

‘I don’t understand. Who are you, anyway?’

The young man sketched a bow. ‘My name is Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli. I am a member of the Order of the Assassins, trained in the ancient ways, to safeguard the future of mankind. Just like you, just like every man and woman here.’

Ezio was astounded, looking from one face to the next. ‘Is this true, Uncle Mario?’ he said at last.

‘Yes, my boy,’ said Mario, stepping forward. ‘We have all been guiding you, for years, teaching you all the skills you’d need to join our ranks.’

Ezio’s head filled with questions. He did not know where to begin. ‘I must ask you for news of my family,’ he said to Mario. ‘My mother, my sister…’

Mario smiled. ‘You are right to do so. They are safe and well. And they are no longer at the convent but at home with me at Monteriggioni. Maria will always be touched by the sadness of her loss, but she has much to console herself with now as she devotes herself to charitable work alongside the abbess. As for Claudia, the abbess could see, long before she could herself, that the life of a nun was not ideal for one of her temperament, and that there were other ways in which she might seek to serve Our Lord. She was released from her vows. She married my senior captain and soon, Ezio, she will present you with a nephew or niece of your own.’

‘Excellent news, Uncle. I never quite liked the idea of Claudia spending her life in a convent. But I have so many more questions to ask you.’

‘There will be a time for questions soon,’ said Machiavelli.

‘Much remains to be done before we can see our loved ones again, and celebrate,’ said Mario. ‘And it may be that we never will. We made Rodrigo abandon his box but he will not rest until it is back in his possession, so we must guard it with our lives.’

Ezio looked around the circle of Assassins, and noticed for the first time that each of them had a brand around the base of his or her left ring finger. But there was clearly no time for further questions now. Mario said to his associates, ‘I think it is time…’ Gravely, they nodded their assent, and Antonio took out a map and unfolded it, showing Ezio a point marked on it.

‘Meet us here at sunset,’ he said, in a tone of solemn command.

‘Come,’ said Mario to the others.

Machiavelli took charge of the box with its precious, mysterious contents, and the Assassins filed silently out into the street and departed, leaving Ezio alone.

Venice was eerily empty that evening and the great square in front of the basilica was silent and unoccupied save for the pigeons which were its permanent denizens. The bell tower rose to a giddying height above Ezio’s head as he began to climb it, but he did not hesitate. The meeting to which he’d been summoned would surely provide him with the answers to some of his questions, and though he knew in his heart of hearts that he would find some of the answers frightening, he also knew that he could not turn his back on them.

As he approached the top he could hear muted voices. At last he reached the stonework at the very top of the tower and swung himself into the bell-loft. A circular space had been cleared and the seven Assassins, all wearing cowls, were ranged around its perimeter, while a fire in a small brazier burned at its centre.

Paola took him by the hand and led him to the centre as Mario began to utter an incantation:

‘
Laa shay’a waqi’un moutlaq bale koulon moumkine…
These are the words, spoken by our ancestors, that lie at the heart of our Creed…’

Machiavelli stepped forward and looked hard at Ezio. ‘Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember -‘

And Ezio picked up the rest of the words as if he had known them all his life: ‘- Nothing is true.’

‘Where other men are limited by morality or law,’ continued Machiavelli, ‘remember -‘

‘- Everything is permitted.’

Machiavelli said, ‘We work in the dark, to serve the light. We are Assassins.’

And the others joined in, intoning in unison: ‘Nothing is true, everything is permitted. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. Nothing is true, everything is permitted…’

When they had finished, Mario took Ezio’s left hand. ‘It is time,’ he told him. ‘In this modern age, we are not so literal as our ancestors. We do not demand the sacrifice of a finger. But the seal we mark ourselves with is permanent.’ He drew in his breath. ‘Are you ready to join us?’

Ezio, as if in a dream, but somehow knowing what to do and what was to come, extended his hand unhesitatingly. ‘I am,’ he said.

Antonio moved to the brazier and from it drew a red-hot branding-iron ending in two small semi-circles which could be brought together by means of a lever in the handle. Then he took Ezio’s hand and isolated the ring finger. ‘This only hurts for a while, brother,’ he said. ‘Like so many things.’

He inserted the branding-iron over the finger and squeezed the red-hot metal semi-circles together around its base. It seared the flesh and there was a burning smell but Ezio did not flinch. Antonio quickly removed the branding-iron and put it safely to one side. Then the Assassins removed their hoods and gathered round him. Uncle Mario clapped him proudly on the back. Teodora produced a little glass phial containing a clear, thick liquid, which she delicately rubbed on the ring burnt for ever on to Ezio’s finger. ‘This will soothe it,’ she said. ‘We are proud of you.’

Then Machiavelli stood in front of him and gave him a meaningful nod. ‘
Benvenuto
, Ezio. You are one of us now. It only remains to conclude your initiation ceremony, and then – then, my friend, we have serious work to do!’

With that, he glanced over the edge of the bell-tower. Far below, a number of bales of hay had been stacked a short distance away in various locations around the campanile – horse-fodder destined for the Ducal Palace. It seemed impossible to Ezio that from this height anyone could direct their fall accurately enough to land on one of those tiny targets, but that is what Machiavelli now did, his cloak flying in the wind as he leapt. His companions followed suit, and Ezio watched with a mixture of horror and admiration as each made perfect landings and then gathered, looking up at him with what he hoped were encouraging expressions on their faces.

Used as he was to bounding over rooftops, he had never faced a leap of faith from such a height as this. The hay-bales seemed the size of slices of polenta, but he knew that there was no other way for him to reach the ground again but this; and that the longer he hesitated, the harder it would be. He took two or three deep breaths and then cast himself outwards and downwards into the night, arms aloft in a perfect swallow dive.

The fall seemed to take hours and the wind whistled past his ears, ruffling and shaking his clothing and his hair. Then the hay-bales rushed up to meet him. At the last moment, he shut his eyes…

... And crashed down into the hay! All the breath was knocked from his body, but as he got shakily to his feet he found that nothing was broken, and that he was, in fact, elated.

Mario came up to him, Teodora at his side. ‘I think he’ll do, don’t you?’ Mario asked Teodora.

The middle of that evening found Mario, Machiavelli and Ezio sitting around the big trestle table in Leonardo’s workshop. The peculiar artefact which Rodrigo Borgia had set so much store by lay before them, and they all regarded it with curiosity and awe.

‘It’s fascinating,’ Leonardo was saying. ‘Absolutely fascinating.’

‘What is it, Leonardo?’ asked Ezio. ‘What does it do?’

Leonardo said, ‘Well, so far, I’m stumped. It contains dark secrets, and its design is unlike anything, I would guess, ever seen on earth before – I’ve certainly never seen such sophisticated design… And I could no more
explain
this than explain to you why the earth goes round the sun.’

‘Surely you mean, “the sun goes round the earth”?’ said Mario, giving Leonardo an odd look. But Leonardo continued to examine the machine, carefully turning it in his hands, and as he did so, it started to glow in response, with a ghostly, inner, self-generated light.

‘It’s made of materials that really shouldn’t, in all logic, exist,’ Leonardo went on, wonderingly. ‘And yet this is clearly a very ancient device.’

‘It’s certainly referred to in the Codex pages we have,’ put in Mario. ‘I recognize it from its description there. The Codex calls it “a Piece of Eden”.’

‘And Rodrigo called it “the Apple”,’ added Ezio.

Leonardo looked at him sharply. ‘As in the apple from the Tree of Knowledge? The apple Eve gave to Adam?’

They all turned to look at the object again. It had begun to glow more brightly, and with a hypnotic effect. Ezio felt increasingly impelled, for reasons which he couldn’t fathom, to reach out and touch it. He could feel no heat coming from it, and yet along with the fascination there came a sense of inherent danger, as if to touch it might send bolts of lightning through him. He was unaware of the others; it seemed as if the world around him had grown dark and cold, and nothing existed any more outside himself and this… thing.