Ezio controlled himself. 'What do you want?'
'In exchange? I want you to leave Rome. Why don't you go back to Monteriggioni and build the place up again? Do some farming. Leave the power game to those who understand it.'
Ezio spat.
'Oh, dear,' said the thin man. He seized Claudia by the hair and, producing a small knife, cut her left breast.
Claudia screamed.
'She's damaged goods at the moment, but I'm sure she'll recover under your tender care.'
'I'll take her back and then I'll kill you. Slowly.'
'Ezio Auditore! I gave you a chance. But you threaten me-and you are in no position to threaten. If there's any killing to be done, it'll be by me. Forget Monteriggioni-a sophisticated lady like Madonna Claudia would doubtless hate it there anyway-your destiny is here-to die in this room.'
The men and women on each side closed in, drawing swords.
'Told you-trapped,' said Machiavelli.
'At least we've found the bastards,' replied Ezio, as each man looked the other in the eye. 'Here!' He passed a handful of poison darts to his companion. 'Make them work!'
'You didn't tell me you came prepared.'
'You didn't ask.'
'I did.'
'Shut up.'
Ezio fell into a crouch as the diehards advanced. Their leader held the thin knife to Claudia's throat.
'Let's go!'
As one, they drew their swords. And with their free hand they threw the poison darts with deadly aim.
The Borgia supporters toppled on either side, as Machiavelli closed in and sliced and slashed with his sword and dagger, pushing against the diehards who tried to crush him-in vain-by force of numbers.
Ezio had one goal-to kill the thin man before he could rip open Claudia's throat. He leapt forward and seized the man by the throat, but his adversary was as slippery as an eel and wrenched himself to one side, without letting go of his victim.
Ezio wrestled him to the floor at last and, grasping the man's right hand with his left, forced the point of the thin knife the man was holding close to his throat. Its point touched the jugular vein.
'Have mercy,' babbled the diehard leader. 'I served a cause I thought was true.'
'How much mercy would you have shown my sister?' asked Ezio. 'You filth! You are finished.'
There was no need to release the hidden-blade. 'I told you it would be a slow death,' said Ezio, drawing the knife down to the man's groin. 'But I am going to be merciful.' He slid the knife back up and sliced the man's throat open. Blood bubbled in the man's mouth. 'Bastardo!' he gurgled. 'You will die by Micheletto's hand!'
'Requiescat in pace,' said Ezio, letting the man's head fall, though for once he spoke the words without much conviction.
The other diehards lay dead or dying about them as Machiavelli and Ezio hastened to untie the harsh cords that bound Claudia.
She had been badly beaten, but the diehards had at least drawn the line at leaving her honor intact.
'Oh, Ezio!'
'Are you all right?'
'I hope so.'
'Come on. We must get out of here.'
'Gently.'
'Of course.'
Ezio took his sister in his arms and, followed by a somber Machiavelli, walked out into the dying light of day.
'Well,' said Machiavelli, 'at least we have confirmation that Micheletto is still alive.'
FIFTY-ONE
'We've found Micheletto,' said La Volpe.
'Where?' Ezio's voice was urgent.
'He's holed up in Zagarolo, just to the east of here.'
'Let's get him, then.'
'Not so fast. He's got contingents from the Romagna towns still loyal to Cesare. He'll put up a fight.'
'Let him!'
'We'll have to organize.'
'Then let's do it! Now!'
Ezio, with Machiavelli and La Volpe, summoned a meeting on Tiber Island that night. Bartolomeo was still in Ostia, watching the port, and Claudia was resting up at the Rosa in Fiore, tended by her ailing mother, after her terrible ordeal, but there were enough thieves and recruits to muster a force of one hundred men and women able to bear arms. There was no need of other condottieri to back them up.
'He's encamped in an old gladiatorial school, and he's got maybe two hundred fifty men with him.'
'What does he intend to do?'
'No idea. Break out, head for safety in the north with the French, who knows?'
'Whatever his plans are, let's nip them in the bud.'
By early dawn, Ezio had gathered a mounted force. They rode out the short distance to Zagarolo and surrounded Micheletto's encampment by sunrise. Ezio bore his crossbow on one arm, over the bracer, and on the other, his poison-blade. There would be no quarter given, though he wanted to take Micheletto alive.
The defenders put up a fierce fight but, in the end, Ezio's forces were victorious, scattering the diehards under Micheletto's command like chaff.
Among the wounded, dead, and dying, Micheletto stood proud, defiant to the last.
'We take you, Micheletto Corella, as our prisoner,' said Machiavelli. 'No more shall you infect our nation with your putrid schemes.'
'Chains will never hold me,' snarled Micheletto. 'Any more than they will hold my master.'
They took him in chains to Florence, where he took up residence in the Signoria, in the very cell where Ezio's father, Giovanni, spent his last hours. There, the governor of the city, Piero Soderini, together with his friend and adviser Amerigo Vespucci, and Machiavelli, interrogated him and put him to the torture, but they could get nothing out of him and so, for the moment, left him to rot. His day as a killer seemed done.
Ezio, for his part, returned to Rome.
'I know you are a Florentine at heart, Niccolo,' he told his friend at their parting. 'But I shall miss you.'
'I am also an Assassin,' replied Machiavelli. 'And my first loyalty will always be to the Brotherhood. You will let me know when you next have need of me and I will come to you without delay. Besides,' he added darkly, 'I haven't given up all hope of squeezing information out of this vile man.'
'I wish you luck,' said Ezio.
But he wasn't so sure they'd break him. Micheletto was indeed an evil man; but he was also very strong willed.
FIFTY-TWO
'Ezio, you must put Micheletto out of your mind,' Leonardo told him, as they sat in the former's studio in Rome. 'Rome is at peace. This Pope is strong. He has subdued the Romagna. He is a soldier as much as he's a
