Assassin's Creed: Renaissance

by Oliver Bowden

  Ezio used the short time left to ride to the convent to take his leave of his mother and sister, to pack all his essential clothing and equipment, and to say goodbye to his uncle and the men and women of the town who had been his companions and allies for so long. But it was with a joyful and determined heart that he saddled his horse and rode forth from the castle gates at dawn the following morning. It was a long but uneventful day's ride, and by dinner-time he was settled in his new quarters and ready to re-acquaint himself with the city which had been his home all his life, but which he had not seen for so long. But this wasn't a sentimental return, and once he had found his feet again, and permitted himself one sad walk past the facade of his old family home, he made his way straight to Leonardo da Vinci's workshop, not forgetting to take Vieri de' Pazzi's page of the Codex with him.

  Leonardo had expanded into the property to the left of his own since Ezio had gone away, a vast warehouse with ample room for the physical results of the artist's imaginings to take shape. Two long trestle tables ran from one end of the place to the other, lit by oil-lamps and by windows set high in the walls - Leonardo had no need of prying eyes. On the tables, hanging from the walls, and scattered, partly assembled, in the middle of the room, were a confusing number of devices, machines and bits of engineering equipment, and pinned to the walls were hundreds of drawings and sketches. Among this pandemonium of creativity, half a dozen assistants busied and scuttled, overseen by the slightly older, but no less attractive, Agniolo and Innocento. Here, there was a model of a wagon, except that it was round, bristled with weapons, and was covered with an armoured canopy in the shape of a raised cooking pot lid, at the top of which was a hole through which a man might stick his head to ascertain what direction the machine was going in. There, the drawing of a boat in the shape of a shark but with an odd tower on its back. More oddly still, it looked from the drawing as if the boat were sailing underwater. Maps, anatomical sketches showing everything from the working of the eye, to coitus, to the embryo in the womb - and many others which it was beyond Ezio's imagination to decipher - crowded all available wall-space, and the samples and clutter piled on the tables reminded Ezio of the organized chaos he remembered from his last visit here, but multiplied one hundredfold. There were precisely figured images of animals, from the familiar to the supernatural, and designs for everything from water-pumps to defensive walls.

  But what caught Ezio's eye most was hanging low from the ceiling. He had seen a version of it before, he remembered, as a smallish model, but this looked like a half-scale mock-up of what might one day be a real machine. It still looked like the skeleton of a bat, and some kind of durable animal skin had been stretched tightly over the frames of two wooden projections. Nearby was an easel with some paperwork attached to it. Among the notes and calculations, Ezio read:

  ... spring of horn or of steel fastened upon wood of willow encased in reed.

  The impetus maintains the birds in their flying course during such time as the wings do not press the air, and they even rise upwards. If a man weigh two hundred pounds and is at point n, and raises the wing with his block, which is one hundred and fifty pounds, with power amounting to three hundred pounds he would raise himself with two wings...

  It was all Greek to Ezio, but at least he could read it - Agniolo must have transcribed it from Leonardo's impenetrable scrawl. In that moment he saw Agniolo looking at him, and hastily turned his attention elsewhere. He knew how secretive Leonardo liked to be.

  Presently Leonardo himself arrived from the direction of the old studio and bustled up to Ezio, embracing him warmly. 'My dear Ezio! You're back! I am so glad to see you. After all that's happened, we thought.' But he let the sentence hang there, and looked troubled.

  Ezio tried to lighten his mood again. 'Look at this place! Of course I can't make head or tail of any of it, but I suppose you know what you're doing! Have you given up painting?'

  'No,' said Leonardo. 'Just following up. on other things, that've caught my attention.'

  'So I see. And you've expanded. You must be prospering. The past two years have been good to you.'

  But Leonardo could see both the underlying sadness and the severity that had settled in Ezio's face now. 'Perhaps,' said Leonardo. 'They leave me alone. I imagine they think I'll be useful to whoever wins absolute control one day. Not that I imagine anyone ever will.' He changed. 'But what of you, my friend?'

  Ezio looked at him. 'There will be time, I hope, one day to sit down and talk over all that has happened since we last met. But now, I need your help again.'

  Leonardo spread his hands. 'Anything for you!'

  'I have something to show you which I think will interest you.'

  'Then you had better come to my studio - it is less busy there.'

  Once back in Leonardo's old quarters, Ezio produced the Codex page from his wallet and spread it on the table before them.

  Leonardo's eyes widened with excitement.

  'You remember the first one?' asked Ezio.

  'How could I forget?' The artist gazed at the page. 'This is most exciting! May I?'

  'Of course.'

  Leonardo studied the page carefully, running his fingers over the parchment. Then, drawing paper and pens towards him, he began to copy the words and symbols down. Almost immediately, he was darting to and fro, consulting books and manuscripts, absorbed. Ezio watched him work with gratitude and patience.

  'This is interesting,' said Leonardo. 'Some quite unknown languages here, at least to me, but they do yield a kind of pattern. Hmmn. Yes, there's a gloss here in Aramaic which makes things a bit clearer.' He looked up. 'You know, taking this with the other page, you'd almost think they were part of a guide - on one level, at least - a guide to various forms of assassination. But of course there's far more to it than that, though I have no idea what. I just know that we're only scratching the surface of what this may have to reveal. We'd need to have the whole thing complete, but you've no idea where the other pages are?'

  'None.'

  'Or how many in the complete volume?'

  'It is possible that. that that may be known.'

  'Aha,' said Leonardo. 'Secrets! Well, I must respect them.' But then his attention was caught by something else. 'But look at this!'

  Ezio looked over his shoulder but could see nothing but a succession of closely grouped, wedge-shaped symbols. 'What is it?'

  'I can't quite make it out, but if I'm right this section contains a formula for a metal or an alloy that we know nothing of - and that, logically, shouldn't possibly exist!'

  'Is there anything else?'

  'Yes - the easiest bit to decipher. It's basically the blueprint for another weapon, and it seems to complement the one you already have. But this one we'll have to make from scratch.'

  'What kind of weapon?'

  'Fairly simple, really. It's a metal plate encased in a leather bracer. You'd wear it on your left forearm - or your right if you were left-handed, like me - and use it to ward off blows from swords or even axes. The extraordinary thing is that although it's evidently very strong, the metal we're going to have to cast is also incredibly light. And it incorporates a double-bladed dagger, spring-loaded like the first.'

  'Do you think you can make it?'

  'Yes, though it will take a little time.'

  'I haven't much of that.'

  Leonardo pondered. 'I think I have all I need here, and my men are skilled enough to forge this.' He thought for a moment, his lips moving as he made calculations. 'It will take two days,' he decided. 'Come back then and we'll see if it works!'

  Ezio bowed. 'Leonardo, I am most grateful. And I can pay you.'

  'I am grateful to you. This Codex of yours expands my knowledge - I fancied myself an innovator, but I find much in these ancient pages to intrigue me.' He smiled, and murmured almost to himself. 'And you, Ezio, cannot guess how indebted I am to you for showing them to me. Let me see any more that you may find - where they come from is your business. I am only
interested in what they contain, and that no one else outside your inner circle, apart from me, should know about them. That is all the recompense I require.'

  'That is indeed a promise.'

  'Grazie! Until Friday, then - at sunset?'

  'Until Friday.' Leonardo and his assistants discharged their commission well. The new weapon, though it was defensive in application, was extraordinarily useful. Leonardo's younger assistants mock-attacked Ezio, but using real weapons, including double-handed swords and battle-axes, and the wristplate, light as it was and easy to wield, easily deflected the heaviest blows.

  'This is an amazing armament, Leonardo.'

  'Indeed.'

  'And it may well save my life.'

  'Let's hope you get no more scars like the one across the back of your left hand,' said Leonardo.

  'That is a last souvenir from an old. friend,' said Ezio. 'But now I need one more piece of advice from you.'

  Leonardo shrugged. 'If I can help you, I will.'

  Ezio glanced over at Leonardo's assistants. 'Perhaps in private?'

  'Follow me.'

  Back in the studio, Ezio unwrapped the slip of paper Mario had given him and handed it to Leonardo. 'This is the person my uncle told me to meet. He told me it'd be no good to try to find him directly -'

  But Leonardo was staring at the name on the paper. When he looked up, his face was filled with anxiety. 'Do you know who this is?'

  'I read the name - La Volpe. I guess it's a nickname.'

  'The Fox! Yes! But do not speak it aloud, or in public. He is a man whose eyes are everywhere, but who himself is never seen.'

  'Where might I find him?'

  'It is impossible to say, but if you wanted to make a start - and be very careful - you should try the district of the Mercato Vecchio -'

  'But every thief who isn't either in gaol or on the gallows hangs out there.'

  'I told you you'd need to be careful.' Leonardo looked round as if he were being overheard. 'I. might be able to get word to him. Go and look for him tomorrow after Vespers. Perhaps you will be fortunate. perhaps not.'

  Despite his uncle's warning, there was one person in Florence whom Ezio was determined to see again. In all the time of his absence, she had never been far from his heart, and now the pangs of love had increased with the knowledge that she was not far away. He could not take too many risks in the city. His face had changed, become more angular, as he had grown both in experience and years, but he was still recognizable as Ezio. His hood helped, allowing him to 'disappear' in a crowd, and he wore it low; but he knew that, although the Medici now held sway, the Pazzi had not had all their teeth drawn. They were biding their time, and they would remain vigilant: of those two things he was certain, just as he was certain that if they caught him unawares, they would kill him, Medici or no Medici. Nevertheless, the following morning he could no more prevent his feet taking the way to the Calfucci mansion than he could have flown to the moon.

  The main street doors stood open, revealing the sunlit courtyard beyond, and there she was, slimmer, possibly taller, her hair up, no longer a girl but a woman. He called her name.

  When she saw him she turned so pale he thought she was going to faint, but she rallied, said something to her attendant to make her go away, and came out to him, her hands outstretched. He drew her quickly out of the street into the secluded shelter of an archway nearby, whose yellow stones were festooned with ivy. He stroked her neck, and noticed that the thin chain to which his pendant was attached was still around her neck, though the pendant itself was hidden in her bosom.

  'Ezio!' she cried.

  'Cristina!'

  'What are you doing here?'

  'I am here on my father's business.'

  'Where have you been? I have had no word of you for two years.'

  'I have been. away. Also on my father's business.'

  'They said you must be dead - and your mother and sister.'

  'Fate dealt with us differently.' He paused. 'I could not write, but you have never left my thoughts.'

  Her eyes, which had been dancing, suddenly clouded and looked troubled.

  'What is it, carissima?' he asked.

  'Nothing.' She tried to break free. He would not let her.

  'Clearly it's something. Tell me!'

  She met his eyes, and her own filled with tears. 'Oh, Ezio! I'm engaged to be married!'

  Ezio was too taken aback to answer. He let go of her arms, realizing that he was holding her too tightly, hurting her. He saw the lonely furrow he had to plough, stretching ahead of him.

  'It was my father,' she said. 'He kept on and on at me to choose. You were gone. I thought you were dead. Then my parents began to entertain visits from Manfredo d'Arzenta - you know, the son of the bullion people. They moved here from Lucca soon after you left Florence. Oh, God, Ezio, they kept asking me not to let the family down, to make a good match while I still could. I thought I'd never see you again. And now -'

  She was interrupted by a girl's voice, crying out in panic at the end of the street, where there was a little square.

  Cristina became instantly tense. 'That's Gianetta - do you remember her?'

  They could hear more screams and yells now, and Gianetta called out a name - 'Manfredo!'

  'We'd better see what's going on,' said Ezio, making his way down the street in the direction of the fracas. In the square, they found Cristina's friend Gianetta, another girl whom Ezio did not recognize, and an elderly man who, he remembered, had worked as Cristina's father's head clerk.

  'What's going on?' said Ezio.

  'It's Manfredo!' cried Gianetta. 'Gambling debts again! This time, they're going to kill him for sure!'

  'What?' cried Cristina.

  'I am so sorry, signorina,' said the clerk. 'Two men to whom he owes money. They've dragged him off to the foot of the New Bridge. They said they were going to beat the debt out of him. I am so sorry, signorina. I could do nothing.'

  'That's all right, Sandeo. Go and call the house guards. I'd better go and -'

  'Wait a minute,' put in Ezio. 'Who the devil is Manfredo?'

  Cristina looked at him as if from the inner side of prison bars. 'My fidanzato,' she said.

  'Let me see what I can do,' said Ezio, and rushed away down the street that led in the direction of the bridge. A minute later, he stood at the top of the embankment looking down at the narrow strip of land near the first arch of the bridge, close to the heavy, slow-moving, yellow waters of the Arno. There, a young man clad in elegant black and silver was on his knees. Two more young men were sweating and grunting as they kicked him hard, or bent down to pummel him with their fists.

  'I'll pay it back, I swear!' groaned the young man in black and silver.

  'We've had enough of your excuses,' said one of his tormentors. 'You've made us look very foolish. So now we're going to make an example of you.' And he raised his boot to the young man's neck, pushing him face down in the mud, while his companion kicked him in the ribs.

  The first attacker was about to stamp on the young man's kidneys when he felt himself grabbed by the scruff of the neck and his coat-tails. Someone was lifting him high up - and the next thing he knew, he was flying through the air, landing seconds later in the water among the sewage and debris that had washed up around the foot of the first pier of the bridge. He was too busy choking on the disgusting water that had poured into his mouth to notice that his companion had by now suffered the same fate.

  Ezio reached a hand down to the mud-spattered young man and hauled him to his feet.

  'Grazie, signore. I think they really would have killed me this time. But they'd have been fools if they had. I could have paid them - honestly!'

  'Aren't you afraid they'll come after you again?'

  'Not now they think I've got a bodyguard like you.'

  'I haven't introduced myself: Ezio - de Castronovo.'

  'Manfredo d'Arzenta, at your service.'

  'I'm not your bodyguard, Manfredo.'


  'It doesn't matter. You got those clowns off my back, and I'm grateful. You don't know how much. In fact, you must let me reward you. But first, let me get cleaned up and take you for a drink. There's a little gaming-house just off the Via Fiordaliso -'

  'Now, just a minute,' said Ezio, aware that Cristina and her companions were approaching.

  'What is it?'

  'Do you do a lot of gambling?'

  'Why not? It's the best way I know of passing the time.'

  'Do you love her?' Ezio cut in.

  'What do you mean?'

  'Your fidanzata - Cristina - do you love her?'

  Manfredo looked alarmed at his rescuer's sudden vehemence. 'Of course I do - if it's any of your business. Kill me here and I'd die still loving her.'

  Ezio hesitated. It sounded as though the man was telling the truth. 'Then listen: you are never going to gamble again. Do you hear?'

  'Yes!' Manfredo was frightened.

  'Swear!'

  'I do!'

  'You do not know how lucky a man you are. I want you to promise me to be a good husband to her. If I hear that you are not, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.'

  Manfredo could see that his rescuer meant every word he had said. He looked into the cold grey eyes, and something in his memory stirred. 'Do I not know you?' he said. 'There's something about you. You seem familiar.'

  'We have never met before,' said Ezio. 'And we need never meet again, unless.' he broke off. Cristina was waiting at the end of the bridge, looking down. 'Go to her, and keep your promise.'

  'I will.' Manfredo hesitated. 'I really do love her, you know. Perhaps I really have learned something today. And I will do everything in my power to make her happy. I need no threat to my life to make me promise that.'