“I don’t think so. The guards handed theirs to Lucrezia. She paid me a visit.”
“I know. I saw.”
“Then why didn’t you do anything to stop her?”
“I was outside the window.”
“Out
“Just athletic. Now—if Lucrezia has the only key we know of, I’d better go and get it. Do you know where she is?”
Caterina considered. “I heard her mention that her quarters are at the very top of the Castel.”
“Excellent. That key is as good as mine! Now—stay here until I get back!”
Caterina gave him a look, and glanced at her chains, and at the cell door. “Why—where do you think I
TWENTY-FIVE
He was getting used to the contours of the outer walls of the Castel Sant’Angelo by now and found that, the higher he climbed, the easier it was to find hand- and footholds. Clinging like a limpet, his cape billowing slightly in the breeze, he soon found himself on a level with the highest parapet and silently hauled himself up onto it.
The drop on the other side was slight—four feet to a narrow brick walkway, from which stairs led down, at occasional intervals, to a garden. A rooftop garden, in the center of which was a stone building, one story high, with a flat roof. It had broad windows, so the place was no extra fortification, and the light of many candles blazed within, disclosing opulent and tastefully decorated rooms.
The walkway was deserted, but the garden was not. On a bench under the spreading bows of a button-wood tree, Lucrezia sat demurely, holding hands with a handsome young man whom Ezio recognized as one of Rome’s leading romantic actors—Pietro Benintendi. Cesare wouldn’t be too pleased if he knew about this! Ezio, a mere silhouette, crept along the walkway to a point as close to the couple as he dared, grateful for the moon, which had risen by now and provided not only light but also confusing, camouflaging pools of shade. He listened.
“I love you so, I want to sing it to the heavens,” Pietro was saying ardently.
Lucrezia shushed him. “Please! You must whisper it only to yourself. If Cesare found out, who knows what he would do.”
“But you are free, are you not? Of course I heard about your late husband and I am very sorry, but—”
“Quiet, you fool!” Lucrezia’s hazel eyes glittered. “Do you not know that Cesare had the Duke of Bisceglie murdered?—my husband was strangled.”
“What?”
“It’s true.”
“What happened?”
“I loved my husband. Cesare grew jealous. Alfonso was a handsome man, and Cesare was conscious of the changes the New Disease had made to his own face, though God knows they are slight. He had his men waylay Alfonso and beat him up. He thought that would act as a warning. But Alfonso was no puppet. He hit back; while he was still recovering from Cesare’s attack, he had his own men retaliate. Cesare was lucky to escape the fate of San Sebastiano! But then, cruel man!—he had Micheletto Corella go to his bedchamber, where he lay nursing his wounds, and strangle him there.”
“It isn’t possible.” Pietro looked nervous.
“I loved my husband. Now, I make-believe to Cesare, to allay his suspicions. But he is a snake—always alert, always venomous.” She looked into Pietro’s eyes. “Thank God I have you to console me. Cesare has always been jealous of where I place my attentions; but that should not deter us. Besides, he has gone to Urbino to continue his campaigning. There is nothing to hinder us.”
“Are you sure?”
“I will keep our secret—if you will,” said Lucrezia intensely. She disengaged one hand from his and moved it to his thigh.
“Oh, Lucrezia!” sighed Pietro. “How your lips call to me!”
They kissed, delicately at first, then more and more passionately. Then Ezio shifted his position slightly and inadvertently kicked a brick loose, which fell into the garden. He froze.
Lucrezia and Pietro sprang apart.
“What was that?” she said. “No one is allowed access to my garden or my apartments without my knowledge—no one!”
Pietro was already on his feet, looking around fearfully. “I’d better go,” he said hastily. “Look—I have to prepare for my rehearsal—scan my lines for the morning. I must go!” He stooped to give Lucrezia a last kiss. “Farewell, my love!”
“Stay, Pietro—I am sure it was nothing!”
“No—it is late. I must go!”
Putting on a melancholy expression, he slipped away across the garden and vanished through a door set into the wall on the far side.
Lucrezia waited a moment, then stood and snapped her fingers. Out of the shelter of some tall shrubs growing nearby, one of her personal guardsmen emerged and bowed.
“I heard the entire exchange,
Lucrezia pursed her lips. “Good. Tell Cesare. We shall see how he feels when the boot is on the other foot.”
“Yes,
Bowing again, the guard withdrew.
Left alone, Lucrezia picked a marguerite from a clump of the flowers that were growing nearby and started to pluck its petals off, one by one.
“He loves me; he loves me not; he loves me; he loves me not…”
Ezio slipped down the nearest staircase and made his way toward her. She had sat down again and looked up at his approach, but showed no fear and only slight surprise. Well, if she had any more guards concealed in the garden, Ezio would give them short shrift.
“Please continue. I do not mean to interrupt,” Ezio said, bowing in his turn, though in his case the bow was not made without irony.
“Well, well. Ezio Auditore da Firenze.” She gave him her hand to kiss. “How pleasant to meet you properly at last. I’ve heard so much about you, especially recently. That is, I imagine no one else can have been responsible for the little upsets we have been experiencing here in Rome?” She paused. “It’s a pity Cesare is no longer here. He would have enjoyed this.”
“I have no quarrel with you personally, Lucrezia. Free Caterina and I will stand down.”
Her voice hardened slightly. “I’m afraid that is impossible.”
Ezio spread his hands. “Then you leave me no choice!” He closed in on her, but cautiously. She had long fingernails.
“Guards!” she shrieked, turning in an instant from noblewoman to harpy, and slashing at his eyes as—just in time—he caught her wrists. Pulling a length of twine from his leather pouch he twisted her wrists behind her and tied them swiftly, before flinging her to the ground and placing one foot firmly on a fold of her dress so that she could not rise and run. Then he drew his sword and dagger and stood his ground, ready to face whatever guards came running from the direction of the apartments. Luckily for Ezio, they were lightly armed and heavily built and wore no chain mail. Though unable to change his position, for above all he could not afford to have Lucrezia cut and run—and already she was trying to bite his ankle through his boot—he ducked below the swinging blade of the first guard and hacked at the man’s exposed flank. One down. The second guard was more cautious but, conscious of the now-snarling Lucrezia on the floor, stepped forward to attack Ezio. He lunged at Ezio’s chest—Ezio parried upward, locking the guards of both blades, and simply swung his left hand, dagger pointing forward, at the man’s
