Ezio kept walking. He remembered where the stables should be in relation to where they were. It was fortunate that Caterina seemed to be the only prisoner in this section. There were no other guards about. Still, he trod softly and moved quickly, but not so fast as to lumber into a trap. Every so often he stopped and listened. She was light in his arms, and, despite imprisonment, her hair still smelled of vanilla and roses, reminding him of happier times they had had together.
“Listen, Ezio—that night in Monteriggioni—when we…bathed together…I had to ensure your allegiance. To protect Forlì. It was in the Assassins’ interests as much as mine, but—” She broke off. “Do you understand, Ezio?”
“If you had wanted my allegiance, all you had to do was ask for it.”
“I needed you on my side.”
“My loyalty and my sword arm on your side weren’t enough. You wanted to be sure of my heart as well.” Ezio walked on, shifting her weight in his arms. “But,è la politica. Of course. I knew it. You need not explain.”
Within him, his heart felt as if it had fallen down a bottomless mineshaft. Howcould her hair still be scented?
“Caterina,” he asked, his throat dry, “did they…? Did Cesare…?”
She sensed, however dimly, what he felt, and smiled—with her lips, though, he noticed, not with her eyes. “Nothing happened. My name must still have some small value. I was left…unspoiled.”
They had reached the main door of the stables. It was unguarded, but firmly closed. Ezio put Caterina down. “Try to walk a little. You must get the strength back in your ankles.”
He looked around for a means of opening the door. It had no bolts or handles. But there had to be a way…
“Try over there,” said Caterina. “Isn’t that a lever of some kind?”
“Wait here,” Ezio said.
“As if I had a choice!”
He made his way over to the lever, noticing as he went a square hole in the floor with an open trapdoor above it. To judge from the smell beneath, it must have been some sort of grain store. And, peering down, he could make out a large number of sacks. But boxes, too—boxes of what looked like gunpowder.
“Hurry,” said Caterina.
He took the lever in his hands and hauled on it. It was stiff at first, but under the strain of his muscles, it gave a little and then swung over easily. At the same time, the door swung open.
But there were a couple of guards in the stables and they whirled around at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges and rushed toward it, drawing their swords.
“Ezio!Aiuto!”
He sped over to her, picked her up, and carried her toward the hole in the floor.
“What are you doing?!”
He held her over the hole.
“Don’t you dare!”
He dropped her down, unable to resist a short snicker at her yell of panic. It wasn’t far, and he had time to see her land safely on the soft sacks before turning to face the guards. The fight was short and sharp, and the guards were heavy with fatigue and had been taken by surprise. Ezio’s skills with the blade were more than a match for them. However, one of them managed to get a glancing blow in, but it cut the material of Ezio’s doublet and didn’t reach the flesh. Ezio was tiring himself.
When it was over, Ezio reached down and hauled Caterina out again.
“Figlio di puttana,” she swore, dusting herself down. “Never do that to me again.”
He noticed that she seemed to be walking at least a little better already.
Quickly, he selected horses for them and soon had them saddled and ready. He helped her onto one and leapt into the saddle of the other himself. An archway led off one side of the stables and through it he could see the main gate of the Castel. It was guarded, but it was open. Dawn was approaching, and no doubt tradesmen from the city were expected, to make deliveries.
“Ride like hell,” Ezio told her. “Before they have time to realize what’s going on. Across the bridge and then make for Tiber Island. You’ll be safe there. Find Machiavelli. He’ll be waiting for me.”
“But weboth have to get away from here!”
“I’ll follow. But for now I must stay and take care of the remaining guards, create a diversion, a delay, something.”
Caterina pulled the reins of her horse in, so that it reared. “Get back in one piece,” she said. “Or I will never forgive you!”
Ezio hoped she meant it, as he watched her kick the horse into a gallop. She charged past the guards at the main gate, scattering them. As soon as he saw that she was clear, he rode his own horse back through the stables to the grain and powder store, seizing a torch from its sconce as he passed. This he threw into the hole, and then he wheeled around and galloped back the way he had come, drawing his sword.
The guards had formed a cordon and were waiting for him, halberds raised. Ezio didn’t know the horse but he knew what he had to do; he rode straight at the line of guards and at the last minute pulled hard on the reins and, leaning forward in the saddle, dug his heels in. At the same time as the horse charged forward, there was an almighty explosion from near the stables. He was right! It had been gunpowder! The ground shook with the explosion—and the guards instinctively ducked down. The horse, also shocked with the noise of the bang, was more determined to make good her flight. She flew into the air, clearing the line of guards as easily as she might have cleared a fence.
Leaving panic and confusion in his wake, he rode in the direction of the rising sun. His heart swelled within him. He had saved Caterina!
TWENTY-SIX
Once he was sure he had shaken off any possible pursuers, Ezio turned his horse. He was loath to lose such a good animal, but he took it to the stables where he and Machiavelli had hired horses what seemed like a lifetime ago and turned it over to the chief ostler there. The stables were neat and clean and clearly doing a thriving business, in a district that seemed to have shaken off Borgia control and, for the moment at least, maintained its independence. Then he made his way back toward Tiber Island on foot. The Assassins’ secret ferry was waiting at the bank and, once on the island itself, he hastened toward the hideout.
Inside, he found that Caterina had arrived safely. She was lying on a makeshift bed near the door, being tended by a doctor. She smiled when she saw him, and tried to sit up, but the doctor gently restrained her.
“Ezio! I am relieved to see you safe.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Where is Machiavelli?” There was no return of his pressure, but perhaps she was still too weak.
“I don’t know.”
La Volpe emerged from the shadows at the end of the room. “Ezio! Good to see you again!” He embraced the younger man. “I brought yourcontessa here. As for Machiavelli…”
But just then the main door swung open and Machiavelli himself came in. He looked drawn.
“Where have you been?” asked La Volpe.
“Looking for Ezio—not that I am accountable to you,” said Machiavelli, and Ezio was saddened to note the tension that still existed between his two friends. Machiavelli turned to Ezio and, without ceremony, asked: “What of Cesare and Rodrigo?”
“Cesare left almost immediately for Urbino. As for Rodrigo, he was at the Vatican.”
“That is odd,” said Machiavelli. “Rodrigo should have been in the Castel.”
“Very odd indeed,” La Volpe put in evenly.
If he’d noticed the dig, Machiavelli ignored it. “What a wasted opportunity,” he mused. Then, recollecting himself, he said to Caterina, “Oh, no offense,Contessa. We are glad to see you safe.”