“What-?”
“You must stay at Machiavelli’s tonight.”
“What’s happened?”
“A misunderstanding.”
Sofia looked from him to Jun, who lowered her eyes, embarrassed at having brought her troubles to their door.
“Give me a moment,” she said.
Soon afterward, she and the children were installed in the carriage. Ezio stood at its door.
They looked at each other. Both wanted to say something, but no words came.
Ezio stepped back and nodded to the coachman. He cracked the reins, and the horses moved forward into the gathering gloom.
As they gathered pace, Sofia leaned from the window and blew him a kiss. He raised his arm in farewell, then, without waiting to watch them out of sight, returned to the villa and closed and locked the door.
EIGHTY-NINE
Ezio and Jun sat facing each other on wooden benches, drawn up in front of a roaring fire. Waiting.
“When I first fought the Borgia, it was revenge that drove me, and my first impulse was to aim for the head,” Ezio was telling her. “In time, however, I learned that those who inspire fear have more devoted followers than those who preach love. Killing Rodrigo and Cesare would have achieved nothing if I had not been able to replace their reign of terror with one that involved some measure of fraternity.” He paused in thought. “So I spent many years teaching men and women to think and act for themselves. First in Rome, then among our Brotherhood in Constantinople.”
“I long to read of your deeds. You must finish your book.”
“The important thing to realize is this: Love binds our Order together; love of people, of cultures, of the world.” He was silent again for a moment. “Fight to preserve that which inspires hope, and you will win back your people, Shao Jun.”
Jun stared into the flames, thinking, as the grand scope of her future widened in her imagination. “It will take a long, long time,” she said quietly, at last.
“But if you do it right, it will happen.”
Jun took a deep breath and straightened up, a determined expression on her face. She looked across at Ezio and nodded. He leaned across and patted her on the shoulder.
“Get some rest,” he said.
She rose and bowed slightly, then left the room.
Ezio turned to the fire, its glow reddening his face.
Deep in the night, disturbed by stealthy sounds outside, Ezio made his way to the kitchens. From high in the sky, the moon shone through the barred windows. Ezio approached the knife blocks and pulled several knives out, testing them for balance. Not satisfied, he put them back and cast around for some other weapon. An iron ladle? No. A chopping board? No. A poker, perhaps? Yes! He went over to the stove and picked one out, three feet long and made of heavy steel. He tested it, making two or three practice passes with it.
He tensed at a noise from above. Seconds later, a body dropped past the window. Ezio saw Jun land in a crouch, then bolt into the night. He made for the door and unlocked it, flinging it open.
There was a Chinese man there, poised for attack, who instantly lunged at him with a dao. Ezio stepped back and slammed the door on the man’s arm, smashing the radius and ulna, and the sword dropped from his hand, as the Chinese howled in agony. Ezio threw the door open again and brought the poker down hard on the man’s head, splitting the skull. He jumped over the corpse and dashed outside.
He soon found Jun, engaged in combat with three attackers. It was going badly for her, but he’d arrived in time to turn the tide, and the servants of the Jiajing Emperor retreated in the direction of the vineyard.
There, they took a stand. Jun, fighting with only her fists and feet, took one of their opponents out almost immediately, as Ezio brought down a second with his poker, ramming its point squarely into his attacker’s face. But the third Chinese managed to knock the poker from his grasp, and it was only by reaching out fast for a wooden dowel, which he plucked from the vines, that he managed to regain his advantage, beating the man to the ground, then striking him hard on the nape of the neck, crushing the cervical vertebrae.
It was over. Ezio collapsed on the gentle slope where his vines were planted, exhausted but uninjured. He caught Jun’s eye and tried to laugh, but his laughter turned into a wheezing cough.
“I sound like a dying cat,” he said.
“Come on, I’ll help you.”
She helped him to his feet, and, together, they returned to the villa.
NINETY
They were awake long before break of day. The morning was cool. Some watery sunlight found its way through the haze.
Shao Jun stood in the road, her pack on her back. Staring into the distance, she was ready to depart. She seemed lost in thought, and only turned when Ezio approached from the villa. His breathing was still labored and heavy.
He came up to her. “It is long way home, no?”
“But there is much to see along the way. Dashi, xiexie nin -Thank you, Mentor.” She bowed slightly.
Ezio was carrying something. A small, ancient box. He held it out to her. “Here. This may be of use one day.”
Jun took it and turned it in her hands. Then she began to open it, but Ezio stopped her.
“No,” he said. “Only if you lose your way.”
She nodded and packed it away. Ezio squinted past Jun, peering up the road. He saw the banners of approaching soldiers.
“You should go,” he said.
Jun followed his gaze, nodded, and set off, toward the vineyards that grew on the other side of the road. Ezio watched her as she made her way quickly over the brow of a nearby hill.
The soldiers rode up soon afterward, and Ezio greeted them. When he looked in Jun’s direction once more, she had disappeared.
A few weeks later, the harvest done, and Marcello’s ninth birthday behind them, he was back in his den, trying to write again. He had made good progress this time. He stared at the last blank sheet in front of him, then dipped his quill and scribbled a few words, concentrating hard. He read them back, and smiled. Then he dropped his quill as a shooting pain in his chest caught him off guard.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he said, collecting himself and replacing the quill in its stand by the inkwell.
Sofia entered the room.
“Just taking the kids down to Fiesole. We’ll be back just after dark.”
“Good.”
“Market day tomorrow. Are you coming with us?”
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
She closed the door behind her. Ezio sat brooding for a moment, then, satisfied, began gathering the papers on his desk, stacking them neatly, and tying a ribbon round them.
NINETY-ONE
The next day was fine and fresh. They had stayed in Florence for lunch, and Sofia was bent on making just a few more purchases before the journey home. Ezio, walking down the street a few paces behind his wife and children, suddenly winced as a fit of coughing took him. He leaned against a wall for support.
In a moment, Sofia was by his side.
“You should have stayed at home.”
He smiled at her. “I am home.”
“Sit down, here.” She indicated a nearby bench. “Wait for us. We’ll be right over there. Only take a minute or two.”
He nodded, watching her rejoin the children and wander off a little farther down the street. He made himself comfortable, letting the pain subside.
He watched the people walking to and fro, going about their daily business. He felt pleased and enjoyed watching them. He breathed in the smells of the market as it broke up around him. He listened to the sound the traders made.
“I love it here,” he said to himself. Home. Home at last.
His reverie was interrupted by the peevish voice of a young Italian who plumped himself down on the bench near him. The young man was talking, apparently, to himself. He didn’t look at Ezio.
&n
bsp; “ Al diavolo! I hate this damn city. I wish I were in Rome! I hear the women there are… mmm… like ripe Sangiovese on the vine, you know? Not like here. Firenze! ” He spat on the ground.
Ezio looked at him. “I don’t think Florence is your problem,” he remarked, pained at what the young man had said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Ezio was about to reply, but the pain seized him again, and he winced, and started to gasp. The young man turned to him. “Steady, old man.”
He grabbed Ezio’s wrist as Ezio caught his breath. Looking down at the hand that held him, Ezio thought the grip was uncommonly strong, and there was something strange, almost familiar, about the man’s expression. But he was probably imagining it all. He shook his head to clear it.
The young man looked at Ezio closely, and smiled. Ezio returned the look.
“Get some rest, eh?” the young man said.
He rose to his feet and walked away. Ezio nodded in belated agreement, watching him go. Then he leaned back, seeking Sofia in the thinning crowd. And saw her at a stall, buying vegetables. And there beside her were Flavia and Marcello, baiting each other, playing together.
He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. His breathing calmed. The young man was right. He should get some rest…
Sofia was packing the vegetables she’d bought into a basket when something cold crept into her heart. She looked up, then around, back to where Ezio sat. There was something about the way he was sitting.
Confused, not wanting to admit what she feared to herself, she put a hand to her mouth and hurried across to him, leaving the children playing where they were.
As she got closer, she slowed her pace, looking at him. She sat down by his side, taking his hand. And then she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his hair.
One or two people looked in their direction, then one or two more, with concern; but otherwise, life in the street went on.
NINETY-TWO
Much later that day, back home, and having sent Machiavelli away, Sofia took herself into the den. The children were in bed. She didn’t think what had happened had sunk in for them, yet.
In the den, the fire had gone out. She lit a candle. She walked to the desk and picked up the neatly stacked sheaf of papers, tied with a ribbon, that lay on it. And she began to read: When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it; I had time, but I did not know it; and I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. And now, in the twilight of my life, this understanding has passed into contentment. Love, liberty, and time… once so much at my disposal, are the fuels that drive me forward; and love, most especially, my dearest, for you, our children, our brothers and sisters… and for the vast and wonderful world that gave us life and keeps us guessing. With endless affection, my Sofia, I am forever yours.
Ezio Auditore
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LIST OF CHARACTERS
Adad: stonemason
Al Mualim: Mentor of the Brotherhood
Al-Sayf, Malik: Assassin comrade of Altair
Al-Sayf, Tazim: Assassin and Malik’s son
Al-Scarab: pirate captain
Auditore, Claudia: Ezio’s sister
Auditore, Ezio: Master Assassin
Auditore, Federico: Ezio’s elder brother
Auditore, Giovanni: Ezio’s father
Auditore, Mario: Ezio’s uncle
Auditore, Petruccio: Ezio’s younger brother
Azize: Assassin in Constantinople
Baglioni, Pantasilea: Bartolomeo d’Alviano’s wife
Barleti, Tarik: Janissary captain
Bekir: Larnaka shipping agent
Borgia, Cesare: Rodrigo’s son, 1480-1519
Borgia, Rodrigo: Pope Alexander VI, 1451-1503
Buonarroti, Michelangelo: artist, sculptor, etc., 1475-1564
Cemal: Assassin in Altair’s time d’Alviano, Bartolomeo: Italian captain and Assassin, aka Barto,
1455-1515
da Vinci, Leonardo: artist, scientist, sculptor, etc., 1452-1519 de Sable, Robert: Templar Grand Master
Dilara: Ottoman spy, Tarik’s agent
Dogan: Assassin in Constantinople
Dovizi, Duccio: Claudia’s ex-boyfriend
Durer, Meister Albrecht: painter, 1471-1528
Erasmus, Desiderius: leader of the Northern European Assassins
Evraniki: Assassin in Constantinople
Ferdinand II, King: king of Spain, 1479-1516
Francis I, King: king of France, 1494-1547
Haras: Assassin adept in Altair’s time
Heyreddin: Assassin in Constantinople
Hulagu, Khan: grandson of Genghis Khan, 1217-65
Ibn-La’Ahad, Altair: Master Assassin
Ibn-La’Ahad, Darim: Altair’s eldest son
Ibn-La’Ahad, Sef: Altair’s youngest son
Ibn-La’Ahad, Umar: Altair’s father
Il Volpe: member of the Assassin Council
Irini: Assassin in Constantinople
Janos: Ottoman prisoner
Julius II, Pope: Pope and friend to the Assassins, 1443-1513
Juno: goddess, one of Those Who Came Before
Jupiter: god, one of Those Who Came Before
Kasim: Assassin in Constantinople
Kemal Reis: Piri Reis’s uncle
Luther: aka Martin Luther, priest, 1483-1546
Machiavelli, Niccolo di Bernardo dei: philosopher and writer,
1469-1527
Ma’Mun: shipping agent
Mehmed II, Sultan: previous sultan of the Ottoman Empire, 1432-81
Minerva: goddess, one of Those Who Came Before
Nazar: Janissary soldier
Nikolos: guard
Osman, Ahmet: Suleiman’s uncle and Bayezid II’s eldest son,
1465-1513
Osman, Cem: Bayezid II’s brother and pretender to the throne,
1459-95
Osman, Selim I: Suleiman’s father and Bayezid II’s youngest son, ca. 1465-1520
Osman, Suleiman: the prince and governor of Kefe, 1494-1566
Osman, Sultan Bayezid II: the current sultan, Suleiman’s grandfather, 1447-1512
Osman, Tomas: Bayezid II’s brother
Palaiologos, Constantine: last Byzantine emperor
Palaiologos, Manuel: heir of the Palaiologos family
Paola: Assassin madame, member of the Assassin Council
Petros: soldier
Piri Reis: admiral, cartographer, bomb maker
Polo, Maffeo: Niccolo Polo’s brother, 1252-1309
Polo, Niccolo: journal writer, Marco’s father, 1252-94
Rosa: member of the Assassin Council
Salai: Leonardo’s assistant
Sartor, Sofia: lady in green
Sforza, Caterina: Countess of Forli
Shahkulu: Manuel’s bodyguard
Shao Jun: Chinese Assassin
Sofian, Abbas: Altair’s former comrade and Master Assassin
Sofian, Ahmad: Abbas’s father
Tazim, Yusuf: leader of the Assassins in Constantinople
Teragani: Assassin in Altair’s time
Thorpe, Maria: Altair’s wife
Vespucci, Amerigo: explorer and navigator, 1454-1512
Vespucci, Cristina: Ezio’s former girlfriend
Villiers de L’Isle-Adam, Philippe: member of the Knights Hospitalier at Rhodes, 1464-1534
Zhu Huocong: the Jiajing Emperor
GLOSSARY OF FOREIGN TERMS
ARABIC
barakallah feek God bless you hajj pilgrimage masa’il kher good evening
CHINESE (Mandarin) dao knife dashi, xiexie nin thank you, Mentor duibuqi I’m sorry ling chi death by a thousand cuts qian Chinese currency
FRENCH
vendange vintage
veraison ripening
GREEK
apistefto unbelievable edaxi okay fiye apo brosta mou! get out of my way!
Hriste mou my
God kourayo courage poi kala very good ti distihia what misery
ITALIAN
al diavolo to hell amore love a presto see you soon arrocco castling (chess move) bastardo bastard bene good, well bistecca alla fiorentina Florentine steak brutti ma buoni Italian cookies buffone jester buona donna good woman buona sera good evening buon giorno good day canaglia scoundrel carciofini sott’olio artichokes in oil castagnaccio chestnut flour cake cazzo prick, shit che succede? what’s happening?
Dio mio my God duomo dome e incredibile it’s incredible fettunta garlic bread finito finished fratello mio my brother fuori out grazie thank you il diavolo the devil kogge ship levatrice midwife maccaroin in broddo pasta soup magnetismo magnetism meister master merda shit messer/e sir mia cara my dear mio my mio bel menestrello my handsome minstrel moleche soft-shell crab molto curioso very curious navigatore navigator nessun problema no problem non mi sorprende I’m not surprised pandiramerino rosemary bread panzanella Florentine bread pecorino cheese perdonate, buon signore pardon me, good sir perfetto perfect piena di vita full of life prego please presuntuoso presumptuous principe prince raccolto harvest ragazzo boy requiescat in pace rest in peace rixoto de go rice with fish salame toscano Tuscan salami salsicce di cinghiale wild boar sausages salute a voi, Assassini health to you, Assassins salve hello se solo if only si yes si, da molto tempo yes, a long time sieur sire soldi money spaghetti allo scoglio reef spaghetti tesoro treasure tonno al cartoccio tuna in foil una tortura! torture va bene fine
TURKISH
adi herif bastard, pig affedersiniz, efendim excuse me, sir akce Turkish coin allaha ismarladik goodbye
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