Assassin's Creed: Renaissance
Page 66
Cursing himself and his fate, Ezio made his way back to the Thieves’ headquarters.
The following day found him in a mood of grim determination. He collected his gun from Leonardo, thanked him, and retrieved the Codex page, hoping that in time he would be able to get it and the other, taken from Emilio, back to his uncle Mario. Then he made his way back to Teodora’s house. From there, she conducted him to the Campo di San Polo, where the games were to take place. In the centre of the square a rostrum had been erected, and on it two or three officials sat at a desk, taking the competitors’ names. Among the people around, Ezio noticed the unhealthy, gaunt figure of Silvio Barbarigo. With him he was surprised to see the enormous bodyguard, Dante.
‘You’ll be up against him,’ Teodora was saying. ‘Think you can take him on?’
‘If I have to.’
Finally, when all the competitors’ names had been taken (Ezio gave a false one), a tall man in a bright red cloak took his place on the rostrum. He was the Master of Ceremonies.
There were four games in all. The contestants would vie with one another in each, and at the end an overall winner would be decided on by a panel of judges. Luckily for Ezio, many of the competitors, in the spirit of Carnival, elected to keep their masks on.
The first game was a foot-race, which Ezio won easily, to the intense chagrin of Silvio and Dante. The second, more complicated, involved a tactical battle of wills in which the contestants had to vie with each other as they tried to capture from one another emblematic flags which each had been provided with.
In this game, too, Ezio was pronounced the winner, but he felt uneasy as he saw the expressions on the faces of Dante and Silvio.
‘The third contest,’ announced the Master of Ceremonies, ‘combines elements of the first two and adds new ones of its own. This time, you will have to use speed and skill, but also charisma and charm!’ He spread his arms wide, to indicate a number of fashionably dressed women about the square, who giggled prettily as he did so. ‘A number of our ladies have volunteered to help us with this one,’ continued the Master of Ceremonies. ‘Some are here in the square. Others are walking in the streets around. You may even find some in gondolas. Now, you will recognize these ladies by the ribbons they wear in their hair. Your job, honoured competitors, is to collect as many ribbons as you can by the time my hour-glass runs out. We’ll ring the church bell when your time is up, but I think I can safely say that however fortune favours you, this will be the most enjoyable event of the day! The man who returns with the most ribbons will be the winner, and one step closer to gaining the Golden Mask. But remember, if there is no outright victor in these games, the judges will decide which lucky one of you will attend the Doge’s party! And now – Begin!’
The time passed, as the Master of Ceremonies had promised, quickly and enjoyably. The bell of San Polo rang out at a sign from him as the last sands trickled from the upper to the lower chamber of the glass, and the competitors took up their positions back in the square, handing their ribbons over to the adjudicators, some smiling, others blushing. Only Dante remained stony-faced, though his face grew red with anger when the count had been made and it was – once again – Ezio’s arm that the Master of Ceremonies held high.
‘Well, my mysterious young man, you are in luck today,’ the Master of Ceremonies said. ‘Let’s hope your good fortune doesn’t desert you at the last hurdle.’ He turned to address the crowd in general, while the rostrum was cleared and ropes set up round it to convert it into a boxing ring. ‘The last contest, ladies and gentlemen, is a complete contrast. It concerns itself only with brute strength. The competitors will fight each other, until all but the last two are eliminated. The last two will fight until one of them is knocked out. And then comes the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The overall winner of the Golden Mask will be announced, but be careful how you place your bets – there’s plenty of time for upsets and surprises yet!’
It was in this last game that Dante excelled, but Ezio, using different skills and light on his feet, managed to make the final pair, confronting the giant bodyguard. The man swung at Ezio with fists like piledrivers, but Ezio was agile enough to ensure that no seriously heavy punches landed and he was able to get some meaningful left uppercuts and right hooks in himself.
There were no breaks between rounds in this last bout, and after a time Ezio could see that Dante was tiring. But he also, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that Silvio Barbarigo was speaking urgently to the Master of Ceremonies and the panel of judges who had gathered at a table under a canopy not far from the ring. He thought he saw a fat leather purse change hands, which the Master of Ceremonies quickly pocketed, but he couldn’t be sure, as he had to return his attention to his opponent, who, angry now, was coming at him with flailing arms. Ezio ducked and landed two quick jabs to Dante’s chin and body, and at last the big man went over. Ezio stood over him and Dante glowered up. ‘This isn’t over yet,’ he growled, but he was finding it hard to get up.
Ezio looked over at the Master of Ceremonies, lifting his arm in appeal, but the man’s face was stony. ‘Are we sure all the competitors have been eliminated?’ the Master of Ceremonies called. ‘All of them? We cannot announce a winner until we are sure!’
There was a murmur in the crowd as two grim-looking men detached themselves from it and clambered into the ring. Ezio looked towards the judges but they had averted their gaze. The men were closing in on him and Ezio now saw that each had a stubby little knife, almost invisible, clutched in his paw.
‘So that’s how it’s going to be, eh?’ he said to them. ‘No holds barred, then.’
He danced out of the way as the fallen Dante tried to pull him off balance by grabbing his ankles, then leapt in the air to kick one of his new opponents in the face. The man spat out teeth and reeled away. Ezio came down and stamped hard on the second man’s left foot, crushing the instep. Then he punched him viciously in the stomach and, as he doubled up, brought his knee into hard contact with the man’s descending chin. Howling with pain, the man went over. He had bitten through his tongue, and blood gushed through his lips.
Without looking back, Ezio vaulted out of the ring and confronted the Master of Ceremonies and the sheepish-looking judges. The crowd behind him cheered.
‘I think we have a winner,’ Ezio told the Master of Ceremonies. The man exchanged glances with the judges and with Silvio Barbarigo, who was standing close by. The Master of Ceremonies climbed into the ring, avoiding the blood as best he could, and addressed the crowd.
The following day found him in a mood of grim determination. He collected his gun from Leonardo, thanked him, and retrieved the Codex page, hoping that in time he would be able to get it and the other, taken from Emilio, back to his uncle Mario. Then he made his way back to Teodora’s house. From there, she conducted him to the Campo di San Polo, where the games were to take place. In the centre of the square a rostrum had been erected, and on it two or three officials sat at a desk, taking the competitors’ names. Among the people around, Ezio noticed the unhealthy, gaunt figure of Silvio Barbarigo. With him he was surprised to see the enormous bodyguard, Dante.
‘You’ll be up against him,’ Teodora was saying. ‘Think you can take him on?’
‘If I have to.’
Finally, when all the competitors’ names had been taken (Ezio gave a false one), a tall man in a bright red cloak took his place on the rostrum. He was the Master of Ceremonies.
There were four games in all. The contestants would vie with one another in each, and at the end an overall winner would be decided on by a panel of judges. Luckily for Ezio, many of the competitors, in the spirit of Carnival, elected to keep their masks on.
The first game was a foot-race, which Ezio won easily, to the intense chagrin of Silvio and Dante. The second, more complicated, involved a tactical battle of wills in which the contestants had to vie with each other as they tried to capture from one another emblematic flags which each had been provided with.
In this game, too, Ezio was pronounced the winner, but he felt uneasy as he saw the expressions on the faces of Dante and Silvio.
‘The third contest,’ announced the Master of Ceremonies, ‘combines elements of the first two and adds new ones of its own. This time, you will have to use speed and skill, but also charisma and charm!’ He spread his arms wide, to indicate a number of fashionably dressed women about the square, who giggled prettily as he did so. ‘A number of our ladies have volunteered to help us with this one,’ continued the Master of Ceremonies. ‘Some are here in the square. Others are walking in the streets around. You may even find some in gondolas. Now, you will recognize these ladies by the ribbons they wear in their hair. Your job, honoured competitors, is to collect as many ribbons as you can by the time my hour-glass runs out. We’ll ring the church bell when your time is up, but I think I can safely say that however fortune favours you, this will be the most enjoyable event of the day! The man who returns with the most ribbons will be the winner, and one step closer to gaining the Golden Mask. But remember, if there is no outright victor in these games, the judges will decide which lucky one of you will attend the Doge’s party! And now – Begin!’
The time passed, as the Master of Ceremonies had promised, quickly and enjoyably. The bell of San Polo rang out at a sign from him as the last sands trickled from the upper to the lower chamber of the glass, and the competitors took up their positions back in the square, handing their ribbons over to the adjudicators, some smiling, others blushing. Only Dante remained stony-faced, though his face grew red with anger when the count had been made and it was – once again – Ezio’s arm that the Master of Ceremonies held high.
‘Well, my mysterious young man, you are in luck today,’ the Master of Ceremonies said. ‘Let’s hope your good fortune doesn’t desert you at the last hurdle.’ He turned to address the crowd in general, while the rostrum was cleared and ropes set up round it to convert it into a boxing ring. ‘The last contest, ladies and gentlemen, is a complete contrast. It concerns itself only with brute strength. The competitors will fight each other, until all but the last two are eliminated. The last two will fight until one of them is knocked out. And then comes the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The overall winner of the Golden Mask will be announced, but be careful how you place your bets – there’s plenty of time for upsets and surprises yet!’
It was in this last game that Dante excelled, but Ezio, using different skills and light on his feet, managed to make the final pair, confronting the giant bodyguard. The man swung at Ezio with fists like piledrivers, but Ezio was agile enough to ensure that no seriously heavy punches landed and he was able to get some meaningful left uppercuts and right hooks in himself.
There were no breaks between rounds in this last bout, and after a time Ezio could see that Dante was tiring. But he also, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that Silvio Barbarigo was speaking urgently to the Master of Ceremonies and the panel of judges who had gathered at a table under a canopy not far from the ring. He thought he saw a fat leather purse change hands, which the Master of Ceremonies quickly pocketed, but he couldn’t be sure, as he had to return his attention to his opponent, who, angry now, was coming at him with flailing arms. Ezio ducked and landed two quick jabs to Dante’s chin and body, and at last the big man went over. Ezio stood over him and Dante glowered up. ‘This isn’t over yet,’ he growled, but he was finding it hard to get up.
Ezio looked over at the Master of Ceremonies, lifting his arm in appeal, but the man’s face was stony. ‘Are we sure all the competitors have been eliminated?’ the Master of Ceremonies called. ‘All of them? We cannot announce a winner until we are sure!’
There was a murmur in the crowd as two grim-looking men detached themselves from it and clambered into the ring. Ezio looked towards the judges but they had averted their gaze. The men were closing in on him and Ezio now saw that each had a stubby little knife, almost invisible, clutched in his paw.
‘So that’s how it’s going to be, eh?’ he said to them. ‘No holds barred, then.’
He danced out of the way as the fallen Dante tried to pull him off balance by grabbing his ankles, then leapt in the air to kick one of his new opponents in the face. The man spat out teeth and reeled away. Ezio came down and stamped hard on the second man’s left foot, crushing the instep. Then he punched him viciously in the stomach and, as he doubled up, brought his knee into hard contact with the man’s descending chin. Howling with pain, the man went over. He had bitten through his tongue, and blood gushed through his lips.
Without looking back, Ezio vaulted out of the ring and confronted the Master of Ceremonies and the sheepish-looking judges. The crowd behind him cheered.
‘I think we have a winner,’ Ezio told the Master of Ceremonies. The man exchanged glances with the judges and with Silvio Barbarigo, who was standing close by. The Master of Ceremonies climbed into the ring, avoiding the blood as best he could, and addressed the crowd.
