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There was only one place for Ezio to go now. The way forward for Cesares troops was cut off and it would take them days to work their way around the ravine and catch up with the Assassin survivors. He directed the refugees to towns outside Borgia control, at least for the moment Siena, San Gimignano, Pisa, Lucca, Pistoia and Florence where they would find sanctuary. He also tried to impress upon his mother and sister the wisdom of returning to the safety of Florence, whatever had happened to Villa Auditore and despite the sad memories the city held, and the fact that both were seized with a compulsive desire to avenge Marios death. Ezio himself was bound for Rome, where, he knew, Cesare would go to regroup. It might even be that Cesare in his arrogance would think Ezio beaten, or dead on the road, like carrion. If so, then that could only be to the Assassins advantage. Something else was haunting Ezio, though. With Mario dead, the Brotherhood was leaderless. Machiavelli was a powerful force within it, and at present he did not seem to be Ezios friend. This was something that had to be resolved. Along with the human survivors of the town was a number of livestock, including the great chestnut warhorse Mario had loved so much. Ezio mounted the steed, held for him by the old stable master, who had also managed to escape, though most of his horses had been captured by the Borgia. Reining his horse in, he took leave of his mother and sister. Must you really go to Rome asked Maria. Mother, the only way to this war is to take it to the enemy. But how can you possibly succeed against the forces of the Borgia I am not their only enemy. And besides, Machiavelli is already there. I must make my peace with him so that we can work together. Cesare has the Apple, Claudia said soberly. We must pray that he does not master its powers, Ezio replied, though privately he felt great misgivings. Leonardo was in Cesares pay now, and Ezio was well aware of of his former friends intelligence. If Leonardo taught Cesare the mysteries of the Apple worse still, if Rodrigo got hold of it again He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. Time enough to confront the threat of the Apple when it presented itself. You shouldnt be riding now. Rome is miles to the south. Cant you at least give it a day or two asked Claudia. The Borgia will not rest and the evil spirit of the Templars rides within them, rejoined Ezio drily. No one will be able to sleep easily until their power is broken. What if it never is We must never give up the fight. The minute we do that, we have lost. È vero. His sisters shoulders slumped, but then she straightened them again. The fight must never be given up, she said firmly. Until death, said Ezio. Until death. Take care on the road. Take care on the road. Ezio leaned down from the saddle to kiss his mother and sister before wheeling the horse round and onto the road south. His head was pounding with the pain of his wound and the exertions of battle. More than this was the aching of his heart and soul at the loss of Mario and the capture of Caterina. He shuddered at the thought of her in the clutches of the evil Borgia family; he knew all too well what fate might befall her in their hands. He would have to skirt around the Borgia troops, but his heart told him that now his main objective had been achieved to break the Assassin stronghold Cesare would head home. There was also the question of Caterinas safety, though Ezio knew that if ever a person would go down fighting, it was she. The most important thing was to lance the boil that was infecting Italy, and lance it soon, before it could infect the whole land. Ezio dug his heels hard into the horses flanks and galloped south down the dusty road. His head was swimming with exhaustion, but he willed himself to keep awake. He vowed he would not rest until he arrived in the brokendown capital of his beleaguered country. He had miles to go before he would be able to sleep.
How stupid had he been to ride for so long wounded, and so far south, only breaking the ride for the horses sake. A post horse would have been more sensible, but the chestnut steed, Agnella, was his last link to Mario. Where was he He remembered a crumbling, dingy suburb and then, rising out of it, a oncemajestic yellow stone arch, an erstwhile gateway that pierced a formerly magnificent citys walls. Ezios impulse had been to rejoin Machiavelli to right the wrong he had committed by not making sure that Rodrigo Borgia was dead. But by God, he was tired. He lay back on the pallet he found himself on. He could smell the dry straw, its odour carrying with it a hint of cow dung. Where was he An image of Caterina came suddenly and strongly into his mind. He must free her. They had to be together at last. But perhaps he should also free himself from her, though part of his heart told him that this was not what he really wanted. How could he trust her How could a simple man ever understand the subtle labyrinths of a womans mind Alas, the torture of love didnt seem to get any less acute with age. Was she using him Ezio had always maintained an inner room within his heart, a sanctum sanctorum that was kept locked, even to his most intimate friends, his mother who knew of it and respected it his sister, and his late brothers and father. Had Caterina broken in He hadnt been able to prevent the killing of his father and brothers, and by Christ and the Cross he had done his best to protect Maria and Claudia. Caterina could look after herself she was a book that kept its covers closed and yet and yet, how he longed to read it. I love you, his heart cried out to Caterina in spite of himself. The woman of his dreams at last, this late in life. But his duty, he told himself, came first, and Caterina Caterina never truly showed her cards. Her enigmatic brown eyes, her smile, the way she could twist him round her long, expert fingers. The closeness. The closeness. But also the keen silence of her hair, which always smelled of vanilla and roses How could he ever trust her, even when he laid his head on her breast after they had made passionate love, and wanted so much to feel secure No! The Brotherhood. The Brotherhood. The Brotherhood! His mission and his destiny. I am dead, Ezio said to himself. I am already dead inside, but I will finish what I have to do. The dream dissolved and his eyelids flickered open, revealing a view of an ample but elderly cleavage descending on him, the chemise the woman was wearing parting like the Red Sea. Ezio sat up rapidly. His wound was properly dressed now, and the pain was so dull as to be almost negligible. As his eyes focused, they took in a small room with walls of roughhewn stone. Calico curtains were drawn across the small dows, and in a corner an iron stove burned, the embers from its open door giving the place its only light. The door was shut, but whoever was with him in the room lit the stump of a candle. A middleaged woman, who looked like a peasant, knelt beside him, just within the frame of his vision. Her face was kindly as she tended to his wound, rearranging the poultice and bandage. It was sore! Ezio ced in pain.
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