Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood

Much occurred in the weeks that followed. The Assassins sought Cesare frantically, but in vain. He did not return to Rome, and indeed Romeseemed purged of all Borgia and Templar influence, though Ezio and his companions remained on the alert, knowing that as long as the enemy lived, there was danger. They suspected there were still pockets of die-hard loyalists, just waiting for the signal.

And the Vatican was rocked once more. Pius III was a bookish and deeply religious man. After a reign of only twenty-six days, his already frail health succumbed to the extra pressures and responsibilities the Papacy placed on it, and, in October, he died. But he had not, as Ezio had feared, proved to be a puppet of the Borgia. Rather, during the short span of his supremacy, he set in motion reforms within the College of Cardinals that swept away all the corruption and sensuality fomented by his predecessor. There would be no more selling of cardinalates for money, and no more accepting of payments in order to let well-off murderers escape the gallows. Alexander VI’s pragmatic doctrine, “Let them live in order to repent,” no longer held currency.

And he had issued a warrant throughout the Papal States for the arrest of Cesare Borgia.

His successor was elected immediately and by an overwhelming majority. Only three cardinals opposed him, and one of them was Georges d’Amboise, the Cardinal of Rouen, who vainly hoped to gain the triple tiara for the French. Following the check in his career caused by the election of Pius, Giuliano della Rovere, Cardinal of San Pietro in Vincoli, had wasted no time in consolidating his supporters and assuring himself of the Papacy at the next opportunity, which he knew would come soon.

Julius II, as he styled himself, was tough man of sixty, still vigorous, as much in his arms and loins as in his brain. He was a man of great energy, as Ezio would soon learn, a political intriguer and a warrior, and proud of his humble origins as the descendant of fishermen—for had not Saint Peter himself been a fisherman?

But the Borgia threat still cast its shadow.

“If only Cesare would show himself,” growled Bartolomeo as he and Ezio sat in conference in the map-room of his barracks.

“He will. But only when he’s ready.”

“My spies tell me that he plans to gather his best men to attack Rome through one of its principal gates.”

Ezio considered this. “If Cesare’s coming from the north, as seems almost certain, he’ll try to get in by the gate near the Castra Praetoria. He might even try to retake the Castra itself. It’s in a strong strategic position.”

“You’re probably right.”

Ezio stood. “Gather the Assassins. We’ll face Cesare together.”

“And if we cannot?”

“That’s fine talk from you, Barto! If we can’t, I will face him alone.”

They parted company, arranging to meet in Rome later in the day. If there was going to be an attack, the Holy City would be ready for it.

And Ezio’s hunch proved right. He’d told Bartolomeo to summon the others to a church piazza near the Castra. All of them arrived, and they made their way to the northern gate, already heavily defended, as Julius II had shown himself perfectly happy to accept Ezio’s advice. But the sight that met their eyes, a couple of hundred yards’ distant, was a sobering one. There was Cesare, on a pale horse, surrounded by a group of officers wearing the uniform of his own private army, and behind him was at least a battalion of his own troops.

Even at that distance, Ezio’s keen ears could pick out Cesare’s bombast—the odd thing was, why did anyone fall for it? At least, why do so still?

“All of Italy shall be united, and you will rule at my side!” Cesare was proclaiming. Then he turned and spotted Ezio and his fellow Assassins ranged along the ramparts of the gate.

He rode a little closer, though not close enough to be within crossbow or musket range. But he was alone.

“Come to watch my triumph?” he shouted up at them. “Don’t worry. This isn’t all my strength. Soon, Micheletto will arrive with my armies! But you will all be dead by then! I have enough men to deal with you!”

Ezio looked at him; then, turning, he looked down at the mass of papal troops, Assassin recruits, andcondottieri ranged beneath him on the inside of the gate. He raised a hand, and the gatekeepers drew back the wooden staves that kept the gates shut. They stood ready to open them at his next signal. Ezio kept his hand raised.

“My men will never fail me!” cried Cesare. “They know what awaits them if they do! Soon— soon!—you will pass from this Earth, and my dominions will return to me!”

Ezio thought,The New Disease has affected the balance of his mind. He let his hand drop. Below him, the gates swung open and the Roman forces streamed out, cavalry first, infantry running behind. Desperately, Cesare yanked at his reins, forcing the bit hard into his horse’s mouth, and wheeled. But the violence of his maneuver made his mount stumble, and he was quickly overtaken. As for his battalion, it broke and ran at the sight of the oncoming Roman brigades.

Well, well, thought Ezio. My question is answered. These men were prepared to fight for money, but not from loyalty. And you can’t buy loyalty.

“Kill the Assassins!” yelled Cesare frantically. “Uphold the honor of the Borgia!” But it was all in vain. He himself was surrounded.

“Throw down your arms, Cesare,” Ezio called to him.

“Never!”

“This is not your city anymore. You are no longer captain-general. The Orsini and the Colonna families are on the side of the new Pope, and when some of them paid lip service to you, that was all it was—lip service. They were only waiting for the chance to get back the cities and estates you stole from them.”

A small deputation rode out through the gates now. Six knights in black armor, one of them bearing Julius II’s crest—a sturdy oak tree—on a pennant. At their head, on a dapple-grey palfrey—the very opposite of a warhorse— rode an elegantly dressed man whom Ezio instantly recognized as Fabio Orsini. He led his men straight up to the still-proud Cesare.

Silence fell.

“Cesare Borgia, called Valentino, sometime Cardinal of Valencia and Duke of Valence,” Orsini proclaimed, and Ezio could see the triumphant twinkle in his eye. “By order of His Holiness, Pope Julius II, I arrest you for the crimes of murder, betrayal, and incest!”

The six knights fell in next to Cesare, two on each side, one before and one behind. The reins of his horse were taken from him and he was tied to the saddle.

“No, no, no,no!” bawled Cesare. “This is not how it ends!”

One of the knights flicked at Cesare’s horse’s rump, and it started forward at a trot.

“This isnot how it ends!” Cesare yelled defiantly. “Chains will not hold me!” His voice rose to a scream. “I will not die by the hand of man!”

Everybody heard him, but nobody was listening.

“Come on, you,” said Orsini crisply.

FORTY-EIGHT

“I was wondering what had happened to you,” Ezio said. “Then I saw the chalked drawing of the pointing hand. So I knew you were signaling me, which is why I sent you a message. And now—here you are! I thought you might have slipped away to France.”

“Not me—not yet!” said Leonardo, brushing some dust off a chair at the Assassins’ Tiber Island hideaway before he sat down. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows.

“I’m glad of it. Even gladder that you didn’t get caught in the dragnet for any last Borgia supporters that the