‘Then die with your pride, Orsi. It means nothing.’ Ezio stepped forward and further opened the wound in Lodovico’s neck. An instant later, he was no more. Ezio stooped over him and closed his eyes. ‘Requiescat in pace,’ he said.
But there was no time to be lost. He returned to the children, who had been watching wide-eyed. ‘Can you walk?’ he asked Ottaviano.
‘I’ll try, but it hurts terribly.’
Ezio knelt and looked. The ankle wasn’t twisted, but sprained. He lifted Ottaviano on to his shoulders. ‘Courage, little Duce,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you both home safe.’
‘Can I have a pee first? I really do need to.’
‘Be quick.’
Ezio knew it wouldn’t be an easy matter to get the children back through the village. It was impossible to disguise them, as they were gorgeously dressed, and in any case by now Bianca’s escape would surely have been discovered. He exchanged the gun on his wrist for the poison-blade, putting the wrist mechanism in his pack. Taking Bianca’s right hand in his left, he made for the woods that skirted the western side of the village. Climbing a low hill, he was able to look down on Santa Salvaza and saw Orsi troops running in the direction of the watchtower, but none seemed to have deployed in the woods. Grateful for the respite, and after what seemed an age, he arrived with the children back where he had tethered his horse, placed them on its back and got up behind them.
Then he rode back north to Forlì. The city looked quiet. Too quiet. And where were the Orsi forces? Had they raised the siege? It didn’t seem possible. He spurred his horse on.
‘Take the southern bridge, Messere,’ said Bianca, in front, holding on to the saddle’s pommel. ‘It’s the most direct way home from here.’
Ottaviano nestled against him.
As they approached the walls of the town, he saw the southern gates open. Out came a small troop of Sforza guards, escorting Caterina and, close behind her, Machiavelli. Ezio could see at once that his fellow Assassin had been wounded. He urged his mount forwards, and when he reached the others, swiftly dismounted and passed the children into Caterina’s waiting arms.
‘What in the name of the Blessed Virgin is going on?’ he asked, looking from Caterina to Machiavelli and back again. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Oh, Ezio,’ said Caterina. ‘I’m so sorry, so sorry!’
‘What’s happened?’
‘The whole thing was a trick. To lower our defences!’ Caterina said despairingly. ‘Taking the children was a diversion!’
Ezio turned his glance back to Machiavelli. ‘But the city is safe?’ he said.
Machiavelli sighed. ‘Yes, the city is safe. The Orsi no longer have an interest in it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘After we’d driven them out, we relaxed – only momentarily, to regroup and see to our wounded. It was then that Checco counter-attacked. They must have planned the whole thing! He stormed the city. I fought him man-to-man and hard, but his soldiers came on me from behind and overwhelmed me. Ezio, now I must ask you to show courage: for Checco has taken the Apple!’
Ezio was stunned for a long moment. Then he said slowly, ‘What? No – that cannot be.’ He looked around wildly. ‘Where has he gone?’
‘As soon as he had what he wanted, he beat a retreat with his men, and the army split up. We couldn’t see which group had the Apple, and we were too battle-weary to give effective chase anyway. But Checco himself led a company into the mountains to the west -‘
‘Then all is lost?’ Ezio cried, thinking that Lodovico had been right – he had underestimated the Orsi.
‘We still have the Map, thank God,’ said Caterina. ‘He didn’t dare spend too much time searching for it.’
‘But what if, now he has the Apple, he no longer needs the Map?’
‘The Templars cannot be allowed to triumph,’ said Machiavelli, grimly. ‘They cannot! We must go!’
But Ezio could see that his friend had turned grey from his wounds. ‘No – you stay here. Caterina! Tend to him. I must leave now! There may yet be time!’
23
It took a long time for Ezio, riding by day and taking what little rest he could when changing his horse, to arrive in the Appenines, and when he did, he knew the search for Checco Orsi would take him even longer. But he also knew that if Checco had returned to his family’s seat at Nubilaria, he would be able to cut him off on the road that led from there south on the long, winding route it took to Rome. There was no guarantee that Checco wouldn’t have gone directly to the Holy See, but Ezio thought that with such a precious cargo as the Apple, his adversary would first seek safety where he was known, and from there send couriers to establish whether the Spaniard had returned to the Vatican before making contact with him there.
Ezio therefore decided to take the Nubilaria road himself, and, entering the town in secret, set about discovering what he could about Checco’s whereabouts. But Checco’s own spies were everywhere, and it wasn’t long before Ezio learned that Checco was aware that he was closing in, and was planning to take off in a caravan of two carriages with the Apple, in order to escape from him and foil his plans.
On the morning Checco planned to depart, Ezio was ready, keeping a close watch on the southern gates of Nubilaria, and soon the two carriages he’d been expecting rumbled out through them. Ezio mounted his horse to give chase, but at the last moment a third, lighter carriage, driven by an Orsi henchman, came fast out of a side street and deliberately blocked Ezio’s path, causing his horse to rear and throw him. With no time to waste, Ezio was obliged to abandon his steed, and, jumping up, clambered on to the Orsi carriage, felling its driver with a single blow and throwing him to the ground. He whipped up the horses and gave chase.
It wasn’t long before he had his adversary’s vehicles in sight, but they saw him too and increased their speed. As they pelted down the treacherous mountain road, Checco’s escort-carriage, filled with Orsi soldiers who were preparing to fire their crossbows at Ezio, took a corner too fast. The horses broke their traces and raced on round the bend ahead, but the carriage, its steering-gear gone and its hafts empty, shot straight on over the edge of the road and crashed hundreds of feet into the valley below. Under his breath, Ezio thanked fate for her kindness. He urged his own horses on, worried that he would drive them too hard and cause their hearts to burst, but they were pulling less weight than the animals pulling Checco’s carriage and steadily made up the distance that separated Ezio from his quarry.