Renaissance

by Oliver Bowden

  ‘And the most wanted man in Venice!’

  ‘Yes. A double murderer, and of two of the state’s most prominent citizens.’

  ‘You know better than to believe that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be here if I did. You know you can trust me, Ezio, as you can everybody here. After all, we’re the ones who flew you into the Palazzo Ducale.’ Leonardo clapped his hands and an assistant appeared with wine. ‘Luca, can you find a carnival mask for our friend here? Something tells me it might come in handy.’

  ‘Grazie, amico mio. And I have something for you.’ Ezio handed over the new Codex page.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Leonardo, recognizing it immediately. He cleared some space on the table near him, unrolled the parchment and started to examine it.

  ‘Hmnn,’ he said, frowning in concentration. ‘This one does have the design for a new weapon, and it’s quite complex. It looks as if it’ll attach to your wrist once again, but this is no dagger.’ He pored over the manuscript some more. ‘I know what this is! It’s a firearm, but on a miniature scale – as small as a humming-bird in fact.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound possible,’ said Ezio.

  ‘Only one way to find out, and that’s to make it,’ said Leonardo. ‘Luckily these Venetian assistants of mine are expert engineers. We’ll get down to it straight away.’

  ‘What about your other work?’

  ‘Oh, that’ll keep,’ said Leonardo airily. ‘They all think I’m a genius and it does no harm to let them – in fact, it means they tend to leave me in peace!’

  In a matter of days the gun was ready for Ezio to test. For its size, its range and power turned out to be quite extraordinary. Like the blades, it was designed to attach to the spring-mechanism which strapped to Ezio’s arm, and could be pushed back to conceal it, shooting out in an instant when required for use.

  ‘How can it be that I never thought of something like this myself?’ Leonardo said.

  ‘The bigger question,’ Ezio replied wonderingly, ‘is how the idea could have come to a man who lived hundreds of years ago.’

  ‘Well, however it came about, it’s a magnificent piece of machinery, and I hope it serves you well.’

  ‘I think this new toy comes at a most timely moment,’ said Ezio, earnestly.

  ‘I see,’ said Leonardo. ‘Well, the less I know about it the better, though I can hazard a guess that it may have something to do with the new Doge. I’m not much of a politician, but sometimes even I can smell skulduggery.’

  Ezio nodded meaningfully.

  ‘Well, that’s something you’d better talk to Antonio about. And you’d better hang on to that mask – as long as it’s Carnevale, you should be safe on the streets. But remember – no weapons out there! Just keep it up your sleeve.’

  ‘I’m going to see Antonio now,’ Ezio told him. ‘There’s someone he wants me to meet – some nun called Sister Teodora, over in Dorsoduro.’

  ‘Ah! Sister Teodora!’ smiled Leonardo.

  ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘She’s a mutual friend of Antonio’s and mine. You’ll like her.’

  ‘Who is she, exactly?’

  ‘You’ll find out,’ grinned Leonardo.

  Ezio made his way to the address Antonio had given him. The building certainly didn’t look like a convent. Once he’d knocked and been admitted, he was convinced that he’d come to the wrong place, for the room he found himself in reminded him more than anything of Paola’s salon in Florence. And the elegant young women who came and went were certainly no nuns. He was about to put his mask back on and go when he heard Antonio’s voice, and moments later the man himself appeared, leading on his arm an elegant and beautiful woman with full lips and sultry eyes, who was, indeed, dressed as a nun.

  ‘Ezio! There you are,’ said Antonio. He was slightly drunk. ‘Allow me to introduce… Sister Teodora. Teodora, meet the – how shall I put this? – most talented man in all Venice!’

  ‘Sister,’ said Ezio bowing. Then he looked at Antonio. ‘Am I missing something here? I’ve never really seen you as the religious type.’

  Antonio laughed, but Sister Teodora, when she spoke, was surprisingly serious. ‘It all depends on how you view religion, Ezio. It’s not men’s souls alone that require solace.’

  ‘Have a drink, Ezio!’ said Antonio. ‘We must talk, but first, relax! You’re perfectly safe here. Have you met the girls yet? Anyone take your fancy? Don’t worry, I won’t tell Rosa. And you must tell me –’

  Antonio was interrupted by a scream from one of the rooms that surrounded the salon. The door flew open to reveal a wild-eyed man wielding a knife. Behind him on the blood-soaked bed, a girl writhed in agony. ‘Stop him,’ she screamed. ‘He’s cut me and he’s stolen my money!’

  With a furious roar the maniac grabbed another girl before she could react and held her close, his knife at her throat. ‘Let me out of here or I’ll carve this one up too,’ he bawled, pressing the tip of the knife so that a little bead of blood appeared on the girl’s neck. ‘I mean it!’

  Antonio, instantly sober, stared from Teodora to Ezio. Teodora herself was looking at Ezio. ‘Well, Ezio,’ she said with a coolness that took him aback, ‘now’s the chance to impress me.’

  The maniac was making his way across the salon to the door, where a small knot of girls was standing. As he reached it, he growled at them, ‘Open it!’ But they seemed rooted to the spot with fear. ‘Open the sodding door or she gets it!’ He dug the knife a little further into the girl’s throat. Blood began to flood from her neck.

  ‘Let her go!’ commanded Ezio.

  The man swung round to face him, an ugly expression on his face. ‘And who are you? Some kind of benefattore del cazzo? Don’t make me finish her off!’

  Ezio looked from the man to the door. The girl in his arms had fainted, a dead weight. Ezio could see the man hesitate, but any moment now he would have to let her go. He readied himself. It would be hard, the other women were close; he’d have to pick the precise moment and then act fast, and he knew he had very little experience of his new weapon. ‘Open the door,’ he said firmly to one of the terrified prostitutes in the group.

  As she turned to do so, the madman let the bleeding girl fall to the ground. As he prepared to rush out into the street, he took his attention off Ezio for a second, and in that second Ezio released his little pistol and fired.

  There was a snapping report and a burst of flame followed by a puff of smoke seemed to shoot out from between the fingers of Ezio’s right hand. The maniac, a surprised expression still on his face, fell to his knees, a neat little hole in the middle of his forehead and some of his brains spattered on the doorpost behind him. The girls screamed and moved hastily away from him as he slowly toppled forward. Teodora shouted orders, and attendants hurried to succour the two wounded girls, but they were too late for the one in the bedroom, as she had bled to death.

  ‘You have our gratitude, Ezio,’ said Teodora, once order had been restored.

  ‘I was too late to save her.’

  ‘You saved the others. He might have slaughtered more if you hadn’t been here to stop him.’

  ‘What sorcery did you use to bring him down?’ asked an awe-struck Antonio.

  ‘No sorcery. Just a secret. A grown-up cousin of the throwing-knife.’

  ‘Well, I can see that it’s going to come in handy. Our new Doge is scared stiff. He surrounds himself with guards and he never leaves the palazzo.’ Antonio paused. ‘I imagine that Marco Barbarigo is next on your list?’

  ‘He is as big an enemy as his cousin Emilio was.’

  ‘We will help you,’ said Teodora, joining them. ‘And our chance presents itself soon. The Doge is throwing a massive party for Carnevale and he will have to leave the palazzo for that. No expense has been spared, as he wants to buy the people’s favour even if he cannot earn it. According to my spies, he has even ordered fireworks from China!’

  ‘This is why I asked you here today,’ Antonio explained
to Ezio. ‘Sister Teodora is one of us, and she has her finger on the very pulse of Venice.’

  ‘How do I get invited to this party?’ Ezio asked her.

  ‘It isn’t easy,’ she replied. ‘You need a golden mask to get you in.’

  ‘Well, it can’t be so hard to lay hands on one of those.’

  ‘Not so fast – each mask is an invitation, and each is numbered.’ But then Teodora smiled. ‘Never mind, I have an idea. I think it’s possible that we might win you a mask. Come, walk with me.’ She led him away from the others to a quiet little courtyard at the rear of the building, where a fountain played in an ornamental pool.

  ‘They are holding some special carnival games which are open to all tomorrow. There are four events, and the winner will be awarded a golden mask and will be an honorary guest at the party. You must win it, Ezio, for access to the party gives you access to Marco Barbarigo.’ She looked at him. ‘When you go, I advise you to take that little spitfire of yours with you, for you won’t get close enough to knife him.’

  ‘May I ask you a question?’

  ‘You can try. I cannot guarantee an answer.’

  ‘I am curious. You wear the habit of a nun, and yet clearly you are no such thing.’

  ‘How do you know that? I assure you, my son, that I am married to the Lord.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. You are also a courtesan. Indeed, you run a bordello.’

  Teodora smiled. ‘I see no contradiction. How I choose to practise my faith, what I choose to do with my body – these are my choices and I am free to make them.’ She paused in thought for a moment. ‘Look,’ she continued. ‘Like so many young women, I was drawn to the Church, but gradually I became disillusioned with the so-called believers in this city. Men only hold God as an idea in their heads, and not in the depths of their hearts and their bodies. Do you see what I am getting at, Ezio? Men must know how to love in order to attain salvation. My girls and I provide that knowledge to our congregation. Of course, no imaginable sect of the Church would agree with me, so I was obliged to create my own. It may not be traditional, but it works, and men’s hearts grow firmer in my care.’

  ‘Among other things, I imagine.’

  ‘You are cynical, Ezio.’ She extended her hand to him. ‘Come back tomorrow and we will see about these games. Take care of yourself in the meantime and don’t forget your mask. I know you can take care of yourself, but our enemies are still out to get you.’

  There were some small adjustments Ezio wanted on his new gun, so he returned to Leonardo’s workshop on his way back to the Thieves’ Guild headquarters.

  ‘I am glad to see you again, Ezio.’

  ‘You were right about Sister Teodora, Leonardo. Truly a Freethinker.’

  ‘She would get into trouble with the Church if she weren’t so well protected; but she has some powerful admirers.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ But Ezio noticed that Leonardo was slightly abstracted, and looking at him strangely. ‘What is it, Leo?’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better not to tell you, but if you found out by accident it would be worse. Look, Ezio, Cristina Calfucci is in Venice with her husband for Carnevale. Of course she’s Cristina d’Arzenta now.’

  ‘Where is she staying?’

  ‘She and Manfredo are the guests of my patron. That is how I know.’

  ‘I must see her!’

  ‘Ezio – are you sure that’s such a good idea?’

  ‘I’ll collect the gun in the morning. I’ll need it by then, I’m afraid – I have some urgent business to attend to.’

  ‘Ezio, I wouldn’t go out unarmed.’

  ‘I still have my Codex blades.’

  Heart pumping, Ezio made his way to the Palazzo Pexaro, via the office of a public scribe whom he paid to write a short note, which read:

  Cristina my darling

  I must meet you alone and away from our hosts this evening at the nineteenth hour. I will await you at the Sign of the Sundial in the Rio Terra degli Ognisanti –

  – and he had it signed, ‘Manfredo’. Then he delivered it to the Conte’s palazzo, and waited.

  It had been a long shot, but it worked. She soon emerged with only a maidservant to chaperone her, and hurried in the direction of Dorsoduro. He followed her. When she arrived at the appointed spot and her chaperone had retired to a discreet distance, he stepped forward. Both of them were wearing their carnival masks, but he could tell that she was as beautiful as ever. He could not help himself. He took her in his arms and kissed her long and tenderly.

  Finally she broke free and, taking off her mask, she looked at him uncomprehendingly. Then, before he could stop her, she had reached up and removed his own mask.

  ‘Ezio!’

  ‘Forgive me, Cristina, I –’ He noticed she no longer wore his pendant. Of course not.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here? How dare you kiss me like that?’

  ‘Cristina, it’s all right…’

  ‘All right? I haven’t seen or heard from you in eight years!’

  ‘I was just afraid you wouldn’t come at all if I didn’t use a little subterfuge.’

  ‘You’re quite right – of course I wouldn’t have come! I seem to remember that the last time we met you kissed me in the street and then, as cool as a cucumber, saved my fiancé’s life and left me to marry him.’

  ‘It was the right thing to do. He loved you, and I –’

  ‘Who cares what he wanted? I loved you!’

  Ezio didn’t know what to say. He felt as if the world had fallen away from him.

  ‘Don’t seek me out again, Ezio,’ continued Cristina, tears in her eyes. ‘I can’t bear it, and you clearly have another life now.’

  ‘Cristina –’

  ‘There was a time when you would only have had to crook your finger, and I –’ She interrupted herself. ‘Goodbye, Ezio.’

  He watched helplessly as she walked away, rejoined her companion, and disappeared round a corner of the street. She had not looked back.

  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 pret
tily 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!’