Assassin's Creed: Renaissance
Page 42
‘I have a list,’ said Ezio. ‘Their names will be added to it.’ He prepared to take his leave.
‘Where will you go now?’ asked Lorenzo.
‘Back to my uncle Mario in Monteriggioni. That will be my base.’
‘Then go with God, friend Ezio. But before you do, I have something that may interest you…’ Lorenzo opened a leather wallet at his belt and from it extracted a sheet of vellum. Almost before he’d unrolled it, Ezio knew what it was.
‘I remember years ago talking to your father about ancient documents,’ said Lorenzo quietly. ‘It was a shared interest that we had. I know he’d translated some. Here, take this – I found it among Francesco de’ Pazzi’s papers, and as he no longer needs it, I thought you might like it – as it reminded me of your father. Perhaps you might like to add it to his… collection?’
‘I am indeed grateful for this, Altezza.’
‘I thought you might be,’ said Lorenzo, in such a way as to make Ezio wonder how much he actually knew. ‘I hope you find it useful.’
Before he packed and made ready for his journey, Ezio hastened, with the fresh Codex page Lorenzo had given him, to visit his friend Leonardo da Vinci. Despite the events of the last week, the workshop was carrying on as if nothing had happened.
‘I am glad to see you safe and sound, Ezio,’ Leonardo greeted him.
‘I see that you came through the troubles unscathed too,’ replied Ezio.
‘I told you – they leave me alone. They must think me either too mad, or too bad, or too dangerous to touch! But do have some wine, and there are some cakes somewhere, if they haven’t gone stale – my housekeeper’s useless – and tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘I’m leaving Florence.’
‘So soon? But they tell me you’re the hero of the hour! Why not sit back and enjoy it?’
‘I have no time.’
‘Still got enemies to pursue?’
‘How do you know?’
Leonardo smiled. ‘Thank you for coming to say goodbye,’ he said.
‘Before I go,’ said Ezio, ‘I have another page of the Codex for you.’
‘That is indeed good news. May I see it?’
‘Of course.’
Leonardo perused the new document carefully. ‘I’m beginning to get the hang of this,’ he said. ‘I still can’t quite see what the general diagram in the background is, but the writing is becoming familiar. It looks like the description of another weapon.’ He rose, and brought a handful of old and fragile-looking books to the table. ‘Let’s see… I must say, whoever the inventor was who wrote all this, he must have been a very long way ahead of his time. The mechanics alone…’ He trailed off, lost in thought. ‘Aha! I see! Ezio, it’s a design for another blade – one that will fit into the mechanism you attach to your arm if you need to use this one in place of the first.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘If I’m right, this one’s quite nasty – it’s hollow in the middle, see? And through the tube concealed in the blade, its user can inject poison into his victim. Death wherever you strike! This thing would make you practically invincible!’
‘Can you make it?’
‘On the same terms as before?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good! How long have I got?’
‘The end of the week? I have some preparations to make, and… there’s someone I want to try to see… to say goodbye. But I need to get going as soon as possible.’
‘It doesn’t give me long. But I still have the tools I needed for the first job, and my assistants have got their hand in, so I don’t see why not.’
Ezio used the intervening time to settle his affairs in Florence, pack his bags, and arrange a courier to take a letter to Monteriggioni. He found himself putting off his final, self-imposed task again and again, but he knew he’d have to do it. At last, on his second to last evening, he walked over to the Calfucci mansion. His feet were like lead.
But when he approached the place he found it dark and closed up. Knowing he was behaving like a madman, he clambered up to Cristina’s balcony, only to find her windows securely shuttered. The nasturtiums in pots on the balcony were withered and dead. As he climbed down again, wearily, he felt as if his heart had been covered in a shroud. He remained at the door in a dream, for he knew not how long, but someone must have been watching him, for finally a first-floor window opened and a woman put her head out.
‘They’ve gone, you know. Signor Calfucci saw the trouble coming and cleared the family out to Lucca – that’s where his daughter’s fiancé comes from.’
‘Lucca?’
‘Yes. The families have got quite close, I hear.’
‘When will they be back?’
‘No idea.’ The woman looked at him. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Ezio.
He spent that night dreaming alternately of Cristina and of Francesco’s bloody end.
In the morning it was overcast, a sky to suit Ezio’s mood. He made his way to Leonardo’s workshop, glad that this was the day on which he would leave Florence. The new knife blade was ready, finished in dull grey steel, very hard, the edges sharp enough to sever a silk handkerchief if you just let it fall through the air on to them. The hole in the point was tiny.
‘The hilt contains the poison, and you release it simply by flexing your arm muscle against this inner button. Be careful, as it’s quite sensitive.’
‘What poison should I use?’
‘I’ve used a strong distillation of hemlock to get you started, but when you run out, ask any doctor.’
‘Poison? From a doctor?’
‘In high enough concentrations, that which cures can also kill.’
Ezio nodded sadly. ‘I am in your debt once more.’
‘Here is your Codex page. Must you leave so soon?’
‘Florence is safe – for now. But I still have work to do.’
10
‘Ezio!’ beamed Mario, his beard bristlier than ever, his face burned by the Tuscan sun. ‘Welcome back!’
‘Uncle.’
Mario’s face became more serious. ‘I can see from your face that you’ve been through much in the months since we last met. And when you are bathed and rested, you must tell me all.’ He paused. ‘We have heard all the news from Florence, and I – even I – found myself praying that by some miracle you would be spared. But not only were you spared, you turned the tide against the Pazzi! The Templars will hate you for that, Ezio.’
‘Where will you go now?’ asked Lorenzo.
‘Back to my uncle Mario in Monteriggioni. That will be my base.’
‘Then go with God, friend Ezio. But before you do, I have something that may interest you…’ Lorenzo opened a leather wallet at his belt and from it extracted a sheet of vellum. Almost before he’d unrolled it, Ezio knew what it was.
‘I remember years ago talking to your father about ancient documents,’ said Lorenzo quietly. ‘It was a shared interest that we had. I know he’d translated some. Here, take this – I found it among Francesco de’ Pazzi’s papers, and as he no longer needs it, I thought you might like it – as it reminded me of your father. Perhaps you might like to add it to his… collection?’
‘I am indeed grateful for this, Altezza.’
‘I thought you might be,’ said Lorenzo, in such a way as to make Ezio wonder how much he actually knew. ‘I hope you find it useful.’
Before he packed and made ready for his journey, Ezio hastened, with the fresh Codex page Lorenzo had given him, to visit his friend Leonardo da Vinci. Despite the events of the last week, the workshop was carrying on as if nothing had happened.
‘I am glad to see you safe and sound, Ezio,’ Leonardo greeted him.
‘I see that you came through the troubles unscathed too,’ replied Ezio.
‘I told you – they leave me alone. They must think me either too mad, or too bad, or too dangerous to touch! But do have some wine, and there are some cakes somewhere, if they haven’t gone stale – my housekeeper’s useless – and tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘I’m leaving Florence.’
‘So soon? But they tell me you’re the hero of the hour! Why not sit back and enjoy it?’
‘I have no time.’
‘Still got enemies to pursue?’
‘How do you know?’
Leonardo smiled. ‘Thank you for coming to say goodbye,’ he said.
‘Before I go,’ said Ezio, ‘I have another page of the Codex for you.’
‘That is indeed good news. May I see it?’
‘Of course.’
Leonardo perused the new document carefully. ‘I’m beginning to get the hang of this,’ he said. ‘I still can’t quite see what the general diagram in the background is, but the writing is becoming familiar. It looks like the description of another weapon.’ He rose, and brought a handful of old and fragile-looking books to the table. ‘Let’s see… I must say, whoever the inventor was who wrote all this, he must have been a very long way ahead of his time. The mechanics alone…’ He trailed off, lost in thought. ‘Aha! I see! Ezio, it’s a design for another blade – one that will fit into the mechanism you attach to your arm if you need to use this one in place of the first.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘If I’m right, this one’s quite nasty – it’s hollow in the middle, see? And through the tube concealed in the blade, its user can inject poison into his victim. Death wherever you strike! This thing would make you practically invincible!’
‘Can you make it?’
‘On the same terms as before?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good! How long have I got?’
‘The end of the week? I have some preparations to make, and… there’s someone I want to try to see… to say goodbye. But I need to get going as soon as possible.’
‘It doesn’t give me long. But I still have the tools I needed for the first job, and my assistants have got their hand in, so I don’t see why not.’
Ezio used the intervening time to settle his affairs in Florence, pack his bags, and arrange a courier to take a letter to Monteriggioni. He found himself putting off his final, self-imposed task again and again, but he knew he’d have to do it. At last, on his second to last evening, he walked over to the Calfucci mansion. His feet were like lead.
But when he approached the place he found it dark and closed up. Knowing he was behaving like a madman, he clambered up to Cristina’s balcony, only to find her windows securely shuttered. The nasturtiums in pots on the balcony were withered and dead. As he climbed down again, wearily, he felt as if his heart had been covered in a shroud. He remained at the door in a dream, for he knew not how long, but someone must have been watching him, for finally a first-floor window opened and a woman put her head out.
‘They’ve gone, you know. Signor Calfucci saw the trouble coming and cleared the family out to Lucca – that’s where his daughter’s fiancé comes from.’
‘Lucca?’
‘Yes. The families have got quite close, I hear.’
‘When will they be back?’
‘No idea.’ The woman looked at him. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Ezio.
He spent that night dreaming alternately of Cristina and of Francesco’s bloody end.
In the morning it was overcast, a sky to suit Ezio’s mood. He made his way to Leonardo’s workshop, glad that this was the day on which he would leave Florence. The new knife blade was ready, finished in dull grey steel, very hard, the edges sharp enough to sever a silk handkerchief if you just let it fall through the air on to them. The hole in the point was tiny.
‘The hilt contains the poison, and you release it simply by flexing your arm muscle against this inner button. Be careful, as it’s quite sensitive.’
‘What poison should I use?’
‘I’ve used a strong distillation of hemlock to get you started, but when you run out, ask any doctor.’
‘Poison? From a doctor?’
‘In high enough concentrations, that which cures can also kill.’
Ezio nodded sadly. ‘I am in your debt once more.’
‘Here is your Codex page. Must you leave so soon?’
‘Florence is safe – for now. But I still have work to do.’
10
‘Ezio!’ beamed Mario, his beard bristlier than ever, his face burned by the Tuscan sun. ‘Welcome back!’
‘Uncle.’
Mario’s face became more serious. ‘I can see from your face that you’ve been through much in the months since we last met. And when you are bathed and rested, you must tell me all.’ He paused. ‘We have heard all the news from Florence, and I – even I – found myself praying that by some miracle you would be spared. But not only were you spared, you turned the tide against the Pazzi! The Templars will hate you for that, Ezio.’
