For the next half-hour, Ezio and Leonardo were able – indeed, obliged – to enjoy the beauties of La Serenissima from the best place that it is possible to enjoy them – a gondola, expertly managed by its fore-and-aft gondoliers. But the enjoyment was marred by Nero’s oily spiel. Ezio, despite his interest in the unique beauty and architecture of this place, still wet from his rescue of Madonna Caterina, and tired, tried to find refuge in sleep from Nero’s dreary monologuing, but suddenly he snapped awake. Something had caught his attention.
From the canal bank, not far from the palace of the Marchese de Ferrara, Ezio heard raised voices. Two armed guards were harassing a businessman.
‘You were told to stay at home, sir,’ said one of the uniforms.
‘But the rent is paid. I have every right to sell my wares here.’
‘Sorry, sir, but it’s in contravention of Messer Emilio’s new rules. I’m afraid you’re in rather a serious situation, sir.’
‘I’ll appeal to the Council of Ten!’
‘No time for that, sir,’ said the second uniform, kicking down the awning of the businessman’s stall. The man was selling leather goods, and the uniforms, between them, while pocketing the best, threw most of his wares into the canal.
‘Now, let’s not have any more of this nonsense, sir,’ said one of the uniforms, as they swaggered off, unhurriedly.
‘What’s going on?’ Ezio asked Nero.
‘Nothing, Altezza. A little local difficulty. I beg you to ignore. And now we are about to pass under the famous wooden bridge of the Rialto, the only bridge over the Grand Canal, famed in all history for…’
Ezio was happy to let the poor bugger ramble on, but what he had seen had disturbed him, and he had heard the name Emilio. A common enough Christian name – but: Emilio Barbarigo?
Not long afterwards, Leonardo insisted that they stop so that he could look at a market with stands selling children’s toys. He went up to the one that had caught his eye immediately. ‘Look, Ezio,’ he cried.
‘What have you found?’
‘It’s a lay figure. A little articulated manikin we artists use as models. I could do with a couple. Would you be so kind – ? I seem to have sent my purse with my bags to my new workshop.’
But as Ezio was reaching for his own purse, a bunch of young people pushed past them, and one of them tried to cut his purse from his belt.
‘Hey!’ yelled Ezio. ‘Coglione! Stop!’ And he raced after them. The one he’d marked as his attacker turned for an instant, pushing a tress of auburn hair clear of the face. A woman’s face! But then she was gone, vanishing into the crowd with her companions.
They resumed their tour in silence, Leonardo, however, now contentedly clutching his two lay figures. Ezio was impatient to be rid of the buffoon who was their guide, and even of Leonardo. He needed time alone, time to think.
‘And now we approach the famous Palazzo Seta,’ Nero droned on. ‘Home of Su Altezza Emilio Barbarigo. Messer Barbarigo is famous at present for his attempts to unify the merchants of the city under his guiding control. A laudable undertaking which has, alas, encountered some resistance from the more radical elements in the city…’
A grim fortified building stood back from the canal, allowing for a flagstoned space in front of it, at whose quay three gondolas were moored. As their own gondola passed, Ezio noticed the same businessman he had seen harassed earlier try to enter the building. He was being held back by two more guards, and Ezio noticed on their shoulders a yellow blazon crossed with a red chevron, below it a black horse, above it a dolphin, star and grenade. Barbarigo men, of course!
‘My stall has been destroyed, my goods ruined. I demand compensation!’ the businessman was saying in an angry tone.
‘Sorry sir, we’re closed,’ said one of the uniforms, poking the poor man with his halberd.
‘I haven’t finished with you. I’ll report you to the Council!’
‘Much good may it do you,’ snapped the older, second uniform. But now an officer and three more men appeared.
‘Causing an affray, are we?’ said the officer.
‘No, I -‘
‘Arrest this man!’ barked the officer.
‘What are you doing?’ said the businessman, frightened. Ezio watched powerless and in growing anger, but he had marked the place in his mind. The businessman was dragged off in the direction of the building, where a small ironclad door opened to admit him, and immediately closed behind him.
‘You haven’t chosen the best of places, though it may be the prettiest,’ Ezio told Leonardo.
‘I am beginning to wish that I’d plumped for Milan after all,’ replied Leonardo. ‘But a job is a job.’
13
After Ezio had taken leave of Leonardo and settled into his own lodgings, he wasted no time in making his way back to the Palazzo Seta, not an easy task in this city of alleyways, twisting canals, low arches, little squares and dead-ends. But everyone knew the palazzo, and locals willingly gave him directions when he got lost – though they all seemed at a loss as to why anybody should wish to go there of their own free will. One or two suggested that it would be simplest for him to take a gondola, but Ezio wanted to familiarize himself with the city, as well as to arrive at his goal unnoticed.
It was late afternoon as he approached the palazzo, though it was less of a palace than a fortress, or a prison, since the main building complex had been erected within the battlemented walls. On either side it was hemmed in by other buildings which were separated from it by narrow streets, but to its rear was what looked like a sizeable garden surrounded by another high wall, and at the front, facing the canal, was the wide, open area Ezio had seen earlier. Here now, though, a pitched battle seemed to be taking place between a bunch of Barbarigo guardsmen and a motley group of young people who were taunting them and then skipping lightly out of reach of their swinging halberds and stabbing pikes, throwing bricks, stones, and rotten eggs and fruit at the infuriated uniforms. Perhaps they were just creating a diversion, for Ezio, looking beyond them, could see a figure scaling the wall of the palazzo beyond the scene of the mêlée. Ezio was impressed – the wall was so sheer that even he would have thought twice about tackling it. But whoever it was reached the battlements without detection or difficulty, and then, astoundingly, leapt up from them to land on the roof of one of the watchtowers. Ezio could see that the person was planning to jump again from there to the roof of the palace itself and try to gain access to the interior from there, and he made a note of the tactic should he ever need – or be able – to use it himself. But the guards in the watchtower had heard the person land, and called a warning to their fellows on guard in the palace proper. A bowman appeared at a window in the eaves of the palace roof and fired. The figure jumped gracefully and the arrow went wide, clattering off the tiles, but the second time the archer fired his aim was true, and, with a faint cry, the figure staggered, clutching a wounded thigh.