“Yes. We think the plan is this: Micheletto intends to disguise his men in costumes, and he’ll make the killing look like an accident.”
“But where’s the performance taking place?”
“We don’t know. But it can’t be far from where Micheletto will be waiting for his men to gather.”
“I’ll go there and shadow him,” Ezio decided. “He’ll lead me to Lucrezia’s lover.”
“Anything else?” La Volpe asked his men.
They shook their heads. A serving-man came in then, bringing a tray with beer, bread, and salami, and the thieves fell on it gratefully. La Volpe drew Ezio to one side.
“Ezio, I am sorry, but I am convinced that Machiavelli has betrayed us.” He held up a hand. “Whatever you say will not convince me otherwise. I know we would both wish to deny it, but the truth is now clear. In my opinion, we should do…what needs to be done.” He paused. “And if you don’t, I will.”
“I see.”
“And there’s another thing, Ezio. God knows I’m loyal, but I also have the welfare of my men to consider. Until this thing is settled, I’m not putting them at risk—at
“You have your priorities, Gilberto, and I have mine.”
Ezio left, to prepare himself for his evening’s work. Borrowing a horse from La Volpe, he made his way straight to the Rosa in Fiore. Claudia greeted him.
“You’ve had a delivery,” she said.
“Already?”
“Two men, both very dapper. One quite young and a bit shifty looking, but handsome in a pretty sort of way. The other, maybe fifty—a few years older than you, anyway. Of course I remembered him—your old friend Leonardo—but he was quite formal. Gave me this note. And I paid him.”
“That was quick.”
Claudia smiled. “He said he thought you might appreciate an
Ezio smiled back. It would be good to encounter tonight’s bunch—and he imagined Micheletto’s men would be trained to a very high standard of villainy—armed with a few of his old friends, the Codex weapons. But he’d need backup, too—from La Volpe’s attitude, he knew he couldn’t depend on the loan of a contingent of thieves.
His thoughts turned to his own militia of new recruits. It was time to put a few of them through their paces.
THIRTY-SIX
Unknown to Ezio,
He stood silently on a deserted dock by the Tiber. A few barges and two ships rode at anchor, gently moving with the river’s flow. The ships’ grubby furled sails rippled slightly in the wind. Several guards wearing Cesare’s insignia were coming toward them, half hauling, half carrying a blindfolded man between them. At their head was Cesare himself.
Micheletto recognized the man, without surprise, as Francesco Troche.
“Please,” Francesco was whimpering, “I have done nothing wrong.”
“Franceso, my dear friend,” said Cesare, “the facts are plain: Your told your brother about my plans in the Romagna, and he contacted the Venetian ambassador. Not can absterge the blame for that from you.”
“It was an accident. I am still your servant and your ally.”
“Are you demanding that I discount your actions and rely on mere friendship?”
“I am asking…not demanding.”
“My dear Francesco, in order to unite Italy I must have every institution under my control. You know what higher organization we serve—the Order of Templars, of which I am now head.”
“I thought—your father…”
“And if the Church does not fall into line,” continued Cesare firmly, “I will eliminate it entirely.”
“But you know that I really work for you, not the Pope.”
“Ah, but do I, Troche? There’s only one way I can be unconditionally sure of that now.”
“Surely you can’t intend to kill me. Your most loyal friend?”
Cesare smiled. “Of course not.”
He snapped his fingers. Noiselessly, Micheletto approached from behind Francesco’s back.
“You are—you are letting me go?” Relief flooded into Troche’s voice. “Thank you, Cesare. Thank you from my heart. You will not regret—”
But his words were cut short as Micheletto, a thin cord twisted between his hands, leaned forward and bound it tightly around Troche’s neck. Cesare watched for a moment, but even before Francesco was fully killed, he turned to the captain of the guard and said, “Have you got the costumes for the play ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then give them to Micheletto—when he’s finished.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Lucrezia is mine, and mine alone. I didn’t think she was that important to me, but when I got that message in Urbino, from one of her own men, that that wretched toad of an actor had been pawing her, slobbering over her, I came back immediately! Can you understand a passion like that, Captain?”
“Yes, sir!”
“You’re a fool. Have you done, Micheletto?”
“
“Then weigh him down with stones and dump him in the Tiber.”
“I obey, Cesare.”
The captain had given orders to his men, and four of them had gone to fetch two large wicker hampers, which they now carried between them.
“Here are the costumes for your men. Make doubly sure the work is done correctly.”
“Indeed,
Cesare stalked off, leaving his subordinate to make the arrangements. Motioning the guards to follow him, Micheletto led the way toward the Baths of Trajan.
Ezio and his band of recruits were already there, hidden in the shelter of a ruined portico. He had noticed a number of men in black already foregathered, and he watched them closely as Micheletto appeared. The guards put the costume skips down and Micheletto motioned them to depart. The shadows were deep, and Ezio nodded to his own men to prepare themselves. He had strapped the bracer to his left forearm and the poison-blade to his right.
Micheletto’s men formed a line, and as each man came up to his leader, he was handed a costume—uniforms copying those worn by Roman legionaries at the time of Christ. Ezio noticed that Micheletto himself wore the costume of a centurion.
As each man stepped away to don his costume, Ezio stood ready. Silently, he extended the concealed poison-blade that Leonardo had just recrafted for him. The unsuspecting thugs went down without a whisper. Then his own recruits put on the theatrical clothes and pulled Micheletto’s henchmen’s bodies out of sight.
Absorbed in his work, Micheletto was unaware, once it was complete, that the men he now commanded were not his own. He led them, with Ezio close behind, in the direction of the Colosseum.
A stage had been erected in the ruins of the old Roman amphitheater where, since the time of the emperor Titus, gladiators had fought each other to the death,
