sails at Pier Six.'
Ezio ran down to the quay. It took him a little time, pushing his way through a throng of busy, cursing mariners, to locate Pier Six, and when he did so, the boat that answered the Apple's description was just casting off. It, too, seemed familiar. Its decks were stacked with several sacks and boxes of cargo-boxes large enough to conceal a man, and on deck Ezio recognized, with a shock, the seaman he had left virtually for dead after his abortive rescue of Madonna Solari. The man was limping badly as he approached one of the boxes and, with a mate, shifted its position. Ezio noticed that the box had holes bored along each side near the top. He ducked behind a rowboat, raised on trestles for repainting, to keep out of sight, as the sailor he had lamed turned to look back toward the quay, scanning it, perhaps to check for pursuers.
He watched helplessly for a moment as the caravel pushed out into midstream, raising one of its sails to catch the stiff breeze out there. Even on horseback, he couldn't follow the little ship along the river's bank, since the path was often blocked or interrupted by buildings that came right up to the water. He had to find a boat for himself.
He made his way back to the quay and walked hastily along it. The crew of a shallop had just finished unloading, and the boat itself was still rigged. Ezio approached the men.
'I need to hire your boat,' he said urgently.
'We've just put in.'
'I'll pay handsomely.' Ezio delved into his purse and showed a handful of gold ducats.
'We've got to get the cargo seen to first,' said one crew member.
'Where d'you want to go?' asked another.
'Downstream,' said Ezio. 'And I need to go now.'
'See to the cargo,' said a newcomer, approaching. 'I'll take the signore. Jacopo, you come with me. Won't take more than the two of us to sail it.'
Ezio turned to thank the newcomer and recognized, with a shock, Claudio, the young thief he'd rescued from the Borgia guards.
Claudio smiled at him. 'One way of thanking you, Messere, for saving my life. And keep your money, by the way.'
'What are you doing here?'
'I wasn't cut out for thievery,' said Claudio. 'La Volpe saw that. I've always been a good sailor, so he lent me the money to buy this boat. I'm the master. Do a good trade, between here and Ostia.'
'We need to hurry. Cesare Borgia's escaped!'
Claudio turned and barked out an order to his mate. Jacopo sprang aboard and began to prepare the sails. Then he and Ezio embarked, and the rest of the crew cast them off.
The shallop, free of its cargo, felt light in the water. Once they reached midstream, Claudio put on as much sail as he could. Soon, the caravel, more heavily laden, ceased to be a speck in the distance.
'That what we're after?' asked Claudio.
'Yes, please God,' replied Ezio.
'Better get your head down,' said Claudio. 'We're well-known on this stretch, but if they see you, they'll know what's up. I know that craft. Run by an odd bunch. Don't socialize.'
'Do you know how many crew?'
'Five, usually. Maybe fewer. But don't worry. I haven't forgotten what La Volpe taught me-still comes in handy, sometimes-and Jacopo here knows how to use a blackjack.'
Ezio sank beneath the low gunwale, raising his head from time to time just enough to check the closing distance between them and their objective.
But the caravel was a faster vessel than the shallop, and Ostia was in sight before Claudio could draw alongside. He boldly hailed the caravel.
'You look pretty heavily laden,' he called. 'What you got on board-gold bullion?'
'None of your business,' the master of the caravel snarled back from his place near the wheel. 'And back off. You're crowding my water.'
'Sorry, mate,' said Claudio, as Jacopo brought the shallop right alongside, bumping the caravel's fenders. Then he cried to Ezio, 'Now!'
Ezio leapt from his hiding place across the narrow gap dividing the two ships. Recognizing him, the lame sailor, with a strangled roar, lunged at him with a bill-hook, but it caught on Ezio's bracer, and Ezio was able to pull him close enough to finish him with a deep thrust of the hidden-blade into his side. But while he was so engaged, he failed to notice another crewman stealing up on him from behind, brandishing a cutlass. He turned in momentary alarm, unable to avoid the descending blade, when a shot rang out and the man arched his back, letting his cutlass fall to the deck before crashing overboard himself.
'Look out!' yelled Jacopo, who was holding the shallop close alongside the caravel as the master of the other boat strove to get clear. A third seaman had emerged from below and was using a crowbar to pry open the upright crate with the holes along its top sides, while a fourth was crouching at his side, covering him with a wheel-lock pistol. No ordinary sailor would have access to such a gun, thought Ezio, remembering the battle with the slave traders. Claudio leapt from the shallop onto the caravel's deck and threw himself on the man with the crowbar, while Ezio darted forward and skewered the wrist of the hand holding the gun with his hidden-blade. It fired harmlessly into the deck and the man retreated, whimpering, holding his wrist, trying to stop the blood pulsing out of the antibrachial vein.
The master, seeing his men routed, pulled a pistol himself and fired it at Ezio, but the caravel lurched in the current at the crucial moment and the shot went wide, though not wide enough, as the ball sliced a nick in Ezio's right ear, which bled heavily. Shaking his head, Ezio leveled his gun at the master and shot him through the forehead.
'Quick!' he said to Claudio. 'You take the wheel of this thing and I'll deal with our friend here.'
Claudio nodded and ran to bring the caravel under control. Feeling the blood from his ear soak his collar, he twisted his opponent's wrist fiercely to make him lose his grip on the crowbar. Then he brought his knee hard into the man's groin, seized his collar, and half dragged, half kicked him to the gunwale, where he tossed him overboard.
In the silence that followed the fight, furious and confused shouts and imprecations could be heard coming from the crate.
'I will kill you for this. I will twist my sword in your gut and give you more pain than you could ever dream was possible.'
'I hope you're comfortable, Cesare,' said Ezio. 'But if you're not, don't worry. Once we get to Ostia, we'll arrange something a little more civilized for your return trip.'
'It's not fair,' said Jacopo from the shallop. 'I didn't get a chance to use my blackjack once!'
PART II
Everything is permitted. Nothing is true.
– DOGMA SICARII, I, I.
It was late in the spring of the year of Our Lord 1504. The Pope tore open the letter a courier had just brought him, scanned it, and then banged a meaty fist down on his desk in triumph. The other hand held up the letter, from which heavy seals dangled.
'God bless King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Aragon and Castile!' he cried.
'Good news, Your Holiness?' asked Ezio, seated in a chair across from him.
Julius II smiled darkly. 'Yes! Cesare Borgia has been safely delivered into one of their strongest and most remote rocche!'
'Where?'
