'Liberta! Liberta! Popolo e liberta!' they shouted as they came. At the same time the Medici forces streamed out of the palazzo to meet them, but they were tired and, as Ezio could see, outnumbered.
He turned back to the body. 'Well, Francesco,' he said. 'I think I have found one way in which you can repay your debt, even now.' Quickly, he reached under the corpse's shoulders, hoisted it up - it was surprisingly light - and carried it to the balcony. Here, finding a lanyard from which a banner hung, he used the length of rope to fasten around the old man's lifeless neck. He quickly attached the other end to a sturdy stone column, and, summoning up all his strength, raised it high, then tossed it over the parapet. The rope paid out, but suddenly jerked taut with a snap. Francesco's limp body hung, toes pointing listlessly at the ground far below.
Ezio hid himself behind the column, 'Jacopo!' he called in a voice of thunder. 'Jacopo de' Pazzi! Look! Your leader is dead! Your cause is finished!'
Below, he could see Jacopo look up, and falter. Behind him, his men, too, hesitated. The Medici troops had followed his gaze, and now, cheering, they were closing in. But the Pazzi had already broken ranks - and were fleeing. In a matter of days, it was all over. The power of the Pazzi in Florence was broken. Their goods and property were seized, their coats-of-arms torn down and trampled. Despite Lorenzo's appeals for mercy, the Florentine mob hunted down and killed every Pazzi sympathizer they could find, though some of the principals had fled. Only one who was captured obtained clemency - Raffaele Riario, a nephew of the Pope, whom Lorenzo considered to be too credulous and ingenuous to have had any serious involvement, though many of the Duke's advisers thought that Lorenzo was showing more humanity than political astuteness in his decision.
Sixtus IV was furious, nevertheless, and placed Florence under an interdict, but he was powerless otherwise, and the Florentines shrugged him off.
As for Ezio, he was one of the first to be summoned to the Duke's presence. He found Lorenzo standing on a balcony overlooking the Arno, watching the water. His wounds were still bandaged but they were healing, and the pallor had left his
cheeks. He stood proud and tall, and fully the man who had earned the soubriquet Florence had bestowed on him - Il Magnifico.
After they had greeted one another, Lorenzo gestured towards the river. 'Do you know, Ezio, when I was six years old, I fell into the Arno. I soon found myself drifting down and into darkness, certain that my life was at an end. Instead, I woke to the sound of my mother weeping. At her side stood a stranger, soaking wet and smiling. She explained to me that he had saved me. That stranger's name was Auditore. And so began a long and prosperous relationship between our two families.' He turned to look at Ezio solemnly. 'I am sorry that I could not save your kinsmen.'
Ezio found it hard to find words. The cold world of politics, where distinctions between right and wrong are too often blurred, was one he understood but rejected. 'I know you would have saved them if it had been within your power,' he said.
'Your family house, at least, is safe and under the city's protection. I have put your old housekeeper, Annetta, in charge of it, and it is staffed and guarded at my expense. Whatever happens, it will be waiting for you whenever you wish to return to it.'
'You are gracious, Altezza.' Ezio paused. He was thinking of Cristina. Might it not be too late to persuade her to break her engagement, marry him, and help him bring the Auditore family back to life? But two short years had changed him beyond recognition, and he had another duty now - a duty to the Creed.
'We have won a great victory,' he said at last. 'But the war is not won. Many of our enemies have escaped.'
'But the safety of Florence is assured. Pope Sixtus wanted to persuade Naples to move against us, but I have persuaded Ferdinando not to do so; and neither will Bologna or Milan.'
Ezio could not tell the Duke of the greater battle he was engaged in, for he could not be sure if Lorenzo was privy to the secrets of the Assassins. 'For the sake of our greater security,' he said, 'I need your permission to go and seek out Jacopo de' Pazzi.'
A cloud crossed Lorenzo's face. 'That coward!' he said angrily. 'He fled before we could lay hands on him.'
'Do we have any idea where he might have gone?'
Lorenzo shook his head. 'No. They've hidden themselves well. My spies report that Baroncelli may be trying to make his way to Constantinople, but as for the others.'
Ezio said, 'Give me their names,' and there was something in the firmness of his voice that told Lorenzo that here was a man it might be fatal to cross.
'How could I ever forget the names of my brother's murderers? And if you seek and find them, I shall be forever in your debt. They are the priests Antonio Maffei and Stefano da Bagnone. Bernardo Baroncelli I have mentioned. And there is another, not directly involved in the killings, but a dangerous ally of our enemies. He is the Archbishop of Pisa, Francesco Salviati - another of the Riario family, the Pope's hunting dogs. I showed his cousin clemency. I try not to be a man like they are. I wonder sometimes how wise I am in that.'
'I have a list,' said Ezio. 'Their names will be added to it.' He prepared to take his leave.
'Where will you go now?' asked Lorenzo.
'Back to my uncle Mario in Monteriggioni. That will be my base.'
'Then go with God, friend Ezio. But before you do, I have something that may interest you.' Lorenzo opened a leather wallet at his belt and from it extracted a sheet of vellum. Almost before he'd unrolled it, Ezio knew what it was.
'I remember years ago talking to your father about ancient documents,' said Lorenzo quietly. 'It was a shared interest that we had. I know he'd translated some. Here, take this - I found it among Francesco de' Pazzi's papers, and as he no longer needs it, I thought you might like it - as it reminded me of your father. Perhaps you might like to add it to his. collection?'
'I am indeed grateful for this, Altezza.'
'I thought you might be,' said Lorenzo, in such a way as to make Ezio wonder how much he actually knew. 'I hope you find it useful.'
Before he packed and made ready for his journey, Ezio hastened, with the fresh Codex page Lorenzo had given him, to visit his friend Leonardo da Vinci. Despite the events of the last week, the workshop was carrying on as if nothing had happened.
'I am glad to see you safe and sound, Ezio,' Leonardo greeted him.
'I see that you came through the troubles unscathed too,' replied Ezio.
'I told you - they leave me alone. They must think me either too mad, or too bad, or too dangerous to touch! But do have some wine, and there are some cakes somewhere, if they haven't gone stale - my housekeeper's useless - and tell me what's on your mind.'
'I'm leaving Florence.'
'So soon? But they tell me you're the hero of the hour! Why not sit back and enjoy it?'
'I have no time.'
'Still got enemies to pursue?'
'How do you know?'
Leonardo smiled. 'Thank you for coming to say goodbye,' he said.
'Before I go,' said Ezio, 'I have another page of the Codex for you.'
'That is indeed good news. May I see it?'
'Of course.'
Leonardo perused the new document carefully. 'I'm beginning to get the hang of this,' he said. 'I still can't quite see what the general diagram in the background is, but the writing is becoming familiar. It looks like the description of another weapon.' He rose, and brought a handful of old and fragile-looking books to the table. 'Let's see. I must say, whoever the inventor was who wrote all this, he must have been a very long way ahead of his time. The mechanics alone.' He trailed off, lost in thought. 'Aha! I see! Ezio, it's a design for another blade - one that will fit into the mechanism you attach to your arm if you need to use this one in place of the first.'