He threw his clothes onto the bed. Under it, in a locked elm chest, were the secret Codex weapons Leonardo da Vinci had once fashioned for him. He would check them over first thing in the morning, after the council of war he'd be holding with his uncle. The original hidden-blade never left him except when he was naked, and then it was always within arm's reach. He wore it always; it had become part of his body.

Sighing with relief, Ezio slipped into the bath. Immersed to his neck in the hot water, breathing in the gently scented steam, he closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath of relief. Peace at last. And he had better make the most of the few short hours he had of it.

He had dozed off and begun to dream when the softest of noises, the door opening and closing behind its heavy tapestry hanging, caused him to awake, instantly alert, like a wild animal. Silently his hand sought the blade and with a practiced movement he attached it to his wrist. Then, in one fluid motion he turned and stood upright in the tub, poised for action and looking in the direction of the door.

"Well," said Caterina, grinning as she approached, "you certainly haven't lost any inches with the years."

"You have the advantage of me, Contessa Contessa." Ezio smiled. "You are fully clothed."

"I expect we could arrange something to change that. But I am waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to say that you don't really need to see for yourself. For you to say that you are sure, even without seeing my naked body, that Nature has been as kind to me, if not kinder, as she has been to you." Her grin broadened at Ezio's confusion. "But I remember you were never as good at paying compliments as you were at ridding the world of Templars."

"Come here!"

He drew her to him, pulling at the girdle of her skirt as her fingers flew first at the blade, detaching it, and then at the laces of her bodice. Seconds later he had lifted her into the bath with him, their lips glued to one another's and their naked limbs entwined.

They did not linger in the bath long, but soon got out, drying each other on the rough linen towels the servant had left. Caterina had brought a vial of scented massage oil with her and drew it from a pocket of her dress.

"Now, lie on the bed," she said. "I want to make sure you are good and ready for me."

"Surely you can see that I am."

"Indulge me. Indulge yourself."

Ezio smiled. This was better than sleep. Sleep could wait.

Sleep, Ezio found, was obliged to wait three hours. Then she curled up in his arms. She fell asleep before him and he watched her for a while. Nature had indeed been kind to her. Her slender yet curvaceous body, with its narrow hips, broad shoulders, and small but perfect breasts, was still that of a twenty-year-old, and her cloud of fine, fine light red hair that tickled his chest as she laid her head on it carried the same scent that had driven him wild all those years ago. Once or twice in the depths of the night, he woke to find he had rolled away from her, and when he took her in his arms again, she nestled up to him with a tiny sigh of joy and closed her hand round his forearm; but she did not wake. Ezio wondered later if this hadn't been the best night of love of his life.

They overslept, of course, but Ezio was not about to forgo another bout in favor of cannon practice, though a part of his mind reproved him for this. Meanwhile, he could distantly hear the sounds of marching men-clattering men moving at a running running march-and shouted orders, and then, the boom of cannon. march-and shouted orders, and then, the boom of cannon.

"Target practice with the new cannon," said Ezio, when for a moment Caterina stopped him and looked at him quizzically. "Maneuvers. Mario's a hard taskmaster."

The heavy brocade curtains across the windows shut out most of the light and the room remained cocooned in comfortable dimness; and no servant came to disturb them. Soon, Caterina's moans of pleasure drowned out any other noise to his ear. His hands tightened around her strong buttocks-she was pulling him up urgently toward her, when their lovemaking was interrupted by more than just the roar of cannon.

Suddenly, the peace and the softness of the big room was shattered. The windows blew away with a mighty roar, taking a part of the stone outer wall with them, as a gigantic cannonball smashed in and landed, searing hot, inches from the bed. The floor sagged under its weight.

Ezio had thrown himself protectively and instinctively over Caterina at the first instant of danger, and in that moment the lovers transformed themselves into professionals and colleagues-after all, if they were to remain remain lovers, they first had to lovers, they first had to survive survive.

They leapt from the bed, throwing on their clothes. Ezio noticed that apart from the delicious vial of oil, Caterina had concealed a very useful jagged-edged dagger beneath her skirts.

"What the hell-?" Ezio cried.

"Go and find Mario," said Caterina urgently.

Another ball flew in, shattering the beams over their recently vacated bed and smashing it to pieces.

"My troops are in the main courtyard," said Caterina. "I'll find them and get them around the back of the citadel and see if we can't outflank them there. Tell Mario that's what I've decided."

"Thank you," said Ezio. "Stay out of sight."

"I wish I'd had time to change," she said, laughing. "We'd better book into an albergo albergo next time, eh?" next time, eh?"

"Let's make damned sure there is is a next time," rejoined Ezio, laughing, too, but nervously, and strapping on his sword. a next time," rejoined Ezio, laughing, too, but nervously, and strapping on his sword.

"You bet! Arrivederci! Arrivederci!" cried Caterina, rushing from the room without forgetting to blow him a kiss.

He looked at the ruins of the bed. The Codex weapons-the double-blade, the poison-blade, the pistol-were buried under it, in all probability destroyed. At least he still had his hidden-blade. Even in extremis extremis he would never forget that. His murdered father's last bequest. he would never forget that. His murdered father's last bequest.

EIGHT.

Ezio had no idea what time it was, but sense told him attacks usually began at dawn, when the victims were still confused and wiping the sleep out of their eyes. He was lucky that his training had bestowed on him, even after he'd reached the age of forty, the alertness and agility of a wildcat.

Once outside and on the battlements, he scanned the landscape around the little town. The town itself, now below him as he skirted around, was in flames in many quarters. He saw where the tailor's shop was burning and Angelina's house, too.

There would be no birthday party for poor Claudia tonight.

He ducked as another cannonball smashed into the ramparts. For God's love, what guns were their attackers bringing to bear? How could they reload and fire so fast? Who was behind this?

Through the smoke and dust he made out Mario, dodging toward him through crumbling masonry. Ezio leapt off the ramparts to land in a crouch near Mario and ran to join him.

"Uncle! Che diavolo Che diavolo...?"

Mario spat. "They've caught us on our back foot. It's the Borgia!"

"Fottere!"

"We underestimated Cesare. They must have massed to the east during the night."

"What must we do?"

"The main thing is to get all the townspeople clear-those who haven't already been killed. We've got to hold them off until we've done that. If they take the town with the people still inside it, they'll kill them all-everyone in Monteriggioni is either an Assassin or an Assassin's abettor, in their eyes."

"I know the route out. Leave it to me."

"Good man. I'll muster our defenders and give them everything we've got." Mario paused. "Look. Let's take them on first. You go and command the cannon on the ramparts."

"And you?"

"I'll lead a frontal assault. Take the battle to the bastards."

"Caterina is going to try to take her forces around the flank."

"Good. Then we are in with a chance. Now hurry! hurry!"

"Wait!"

"What is it?"

Ezio lowered his voice. "Where is the Apple?" He did not tell his uncle that the Codex weapons had been destroyed by one of the first cannonades. Inwardly he prayed that, by some miracle, his path would cross with Leonardo's again, for he did not doubt that the master of all the arts and sciences would help him reconstruct them, in case of need. In the meantime, he had the hidden-blade still, and he was a past master himself in the use of conventional weapons.

"The Apple is safe," Mario reassured him. "Now go. And if you see that the Borgia show the slightest slightest chance of breaching the walls, shift your attention to evacuating the town. Do you understand?" chance of breaching the walls, shift your attention to evacuating the town. Do you understand?"

"S, zio mio."

Mario placed his hands on Ezio's shoulders and looked at him gravely for a long moment. "Our fate is only partially in our own hands. There is only a certain amount of it that we can control. But never forget, never never forget, nephew-that whatever happens to you, or to me, this day, there is never a feather lost by a sparrow that is not brushed away by the finger of God." forget, nephew-that whatever happens to you, or to me, this day, there is never a feather lost by a sparrow that is not brushed away by the finger of God."

"I understand, Capitano Capitano."

There was a brief moment of silence between them. Then Mario extended his hand.

"Insieme per la vittoria!"

Ezio took his uncle's hand in his and wrung it fervently. "Insieme!" "Insieme!"

Mario turned to go.

Ezio said, "Capitano-be careful!"

Mario nodded grimly. "I'll do my best! And you-take my best horse and get to the outer walls as fast as you can!" He drew his sword and, with his great war cry rallying his men, ran toward the foe.

Ezio watched him briefly and then ran himself toward the stable, where the old groom whose runaway horse he'd saved only the day before was waiting. The huge chestnut was saddled and ready.

"Maestro Mario had already sent orders," the old man said. "I may be past my prime, but no one could ever accuse me of being inefficient. Ma attenzione! Ma attenzione! This horse is full of spirit!" This horse is full of spirit!"

"I brought him to heel yesterday. He'll know me today."

"True enough! Buona fortuna! Buona fortuna! We all depend on you!" We all depend on you!"

Ezio swung himself into the saddle and urged the eager horse toward the outer walls.

He rode through the already devastated town. The tailor, dead and mutilated in front of his shop. What harm had he ever done anyone? And Angelina, weeping in front of her burned-down house; what was the point of not showing her pity?

War-that was all. Brutalizing and cruel. Vicious and infantile. Ezio's gorge rose at it.

Freedom and Mercy. And Love. These were the only things worth fighting for, worth killing for-and these were the prime elements of the Assassin's Creed. Of the Brotherhood.

Ezio, as he rode forth, encountered scenes of terrible desolation. Devastation and chaos surrounded him as his horse carried him through the burning town.

"My children! Where are my children?" a young mother screamed as he passed, helplessly.

"Just pack what you can and let's get out of here!" cried out a man's voice.

"My leg! My leg's been shot away!" yelled a towns-man.

"How can we escape?" shrieked several people, rushing around in panic.

"I can't find my mother! Mamma! Mamma!" rang out the voice of a little child.

Ezio had to steel his heart. He could not go to the rescue of individuals. There was no time. But if he could organize the defense properly, more people would be saved than lost.

"Aiuto! Aiuto!" a teenaged girl, mobbed by Borgia troops, cried out as they forced her down. a teenaged girl, mobbed by Borgia troops, cried out as they forced her down.

Ezio rode grimly on. He would kill them. Kill them all, if he could. Who was this heartless Cesare Borgia? Could he be actually worse than the Pope? Could there ever be a more evil Templar?

"Water! Water! Bring water!" a man's voice bellowed despairingly. "Everything is burning!"

"Where are you, please, oh, God! Where are you, Marcello?" a woman's voice sang out.

Ezio rode on, his mouth set. But the cries for help still rang in his ears: "Come usciamo di qui?" "Come usciamo di qui?"

"Run! Run!" Voices were raised against the sound of the bombardment. There were screams and sobs, desperate pleas for help, for a means of getting out of the beleaguered town, as the pitiless Borgia troops piled on cannonade upon cannonade.

Please God they do not breach the walls before our own guns have been brought into proper play, Ezio thought, and though he could hear the explosions as the sakers and falconets spat shot at the attackers, he could not yet hear the boom of the big guns he had encountered the day before, the only cannon that might truly smash the huge wooden siege towers the Borgia forces were trundling toward the city walls. Ezio thought, and though he could hear the explosions as the sakers and falconets spat shot at the attackers, he could not yet hear the boom of the big guns he had encountered the day before, the only cannon that might truly smash the huge wooden siege towers the Borgia forces were trundling toward the city walls.

He goaded the chestnut up the ramp to the walls and leapt off as he reached the point where he had last met the drunken armorer next to the ten-foot cannon. He was-perfectly sober now-directing gunners to bring this gun to bear on a tower that the highly trained attackers were shoving slowly but surely in the direction of the ramparts. Ezio could see that its top matched the height of the crenellations at the top of the walls.

"The wretches!" he muttered. But how could anyone have predicted the speed and-even Ezio had to admit this to himself-masterly perfection of the attack?

"Fire!" yelled the grizzled master-sergeant in command of the first big gun as Ezio approached. The great cannon boomed and sprang back, but the ball was just wide, nicking a splattering of wood off a corner of the siege tower's roof.

"Try to hit the fucking towers, you fools!" yelled the sergeant.

"Sir-we need more ammunition!"

"Then go down to the stores, and make it snappy! Look! They're storming the gate!"

Other cannon bellowed and spat. Ezio was pleased to see a tranche of attackers smashed into a sea of blood and bone.

"Reload!" yelled the sergeant. "Fire again at my command!"