Only the Devil Laughed
An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99
Chapter Three.
Castel Sant'Angelo, 1499.
The first sign that the soldiers were approaching was the faint glow at the hole in the bottom of the door. A few seconds later the sound of mailed boots on flagstones echoed along the narrow passageway and then the door was flung open.
They took Ezio from the cell and marched him along the corridor to the great spiral ramp. When they reached it they turned right, heading upwards rather than downwards to the courtyard as he had expected. The ramp ended in a narrow square lined in herringbone brick. Ezio blinked owlishly in the sunlight as one of the guards unlocked a heavy wooden door that was rather nicer than any he had seen so far. "Where are you taking me?"
"Just walk," a soldier growled.
Ezio shrugged. He had a pretty good idea where they were headed. When the guards pushed open another door and shoved him into a narrow, richly furnished room with unparalleled views over the river and the Vatican, he was sure of it. As they entered, the crimson robes of cardinals parted like the red sea to display the Pope.
Borgia stood with his hands behind his back, studying the view. He wore a red velvet cape over his embroidered robe. Dark patches of sweat marked his sleeves. He turned around and smiled at Ezio. It was the sort of smile that belonged on the face of a second-hand horse dealer. "Welcome, Assassin." Only Ezio heard the capital letter on the last word.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance."
"Vai in culo." Ezio replied.
There was a collective intake of breath from the cardinals. The guard holding Ezio punched him in the small of the back with a mailed fist. Ezio's knees buckled. He sagged to the floor. The Pope waited patiently until they had dragged him upright again. He crossed himself. "In nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti. I forgive you, my son."
The hypocrisy was so thick Ezio almost choked on it. The assembled cardinals crossed themselves, impressed at this sudden display of benevolence. Ezio guessed that that was the whole point of the exercise. The Vatican mission had been too obvious, too high-profile. There was no way Borgia could have concealed the whole episode.
He raised his head painfully. "You're a fake, Borgia." He knew nothing he said would be believed, but he said it anyway. "You told me you didn't believe in such superstitious practices. That your faith was a lie. You're just in it for the pow-" He gasped as the guard behind him did something painful to his arms. "-Power. Just the power."
Borgia held up a hand to halt the guard. "Let him speak." He stepped forwards. ""I have power. I am the Pope. Why I would want more?"
"You're a Templar." Ezio said bluntly. The assembled cardinals exchanged bemused glances.
The Pope smiled. "The Templars are dead and gone," he said. "I am a holy man."
"You don't even believe in the power of God. To Templars, there are only men with power and those without." Ezio knew that he was playing into the Pope's hands, but he couldn't stop himself. "You killed so many people, just for power. You killed my family."
The Pope looked around. He spread his arms theatrically. "You see? This man is insane. A family sickness. Why, his very father once told me that I would die with an Assassin's blade in my throat."
"There's still time, Borgia." Ezio snarled.
The Pope nodded. This time the guard was less gentle. Ezio spat blood from between bruised lips.
"Please try to be careful," the Pope said reprovingly. "That carpet was rather expensive, after all." He clapped his hands. "Enough of this. Let us move on with the proceedings."
A cardinal stepped forwards. He cleared his throat. His nose twitched. He produced a white handkerchief and waved it in front of his nose. It masked, but didn't hide, the expression of distaste upon his face.
"Ezio Auditore da Firenze."
Ezio raised his head.
"I am Cardinal Lorenzo Campeggio. We have all heard of your crimes. Now I ask you; do you confess to the attempted murder of His Holiness Alexander the Sixth?"
Ezio listened with the detached air of a man who knew that nothing he could say would save him. "Yes. But he is not a holy man," he added.
Campeggio frowned. "Do you confess to the murders of..." he consulted the paper again, "eighteen cardinals of high standing?"
"Che cazzo stai dicendo? I have killed nobody who didn't deserve it."
The cardinal winced at the profanity. "If you did not, who did?"
Borgia winked, and Ezio knew why the Pope had ben so long in visiting him. He'd been eliminating the witnesses. He jerked his chin in the direction of the Pope. "He did."
"Why on earth would the Pope do such a thing?" Campeggio frowned, shocked out of formality.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try, my son."
"They were witnesses. They saw him steal the Apple from me. Saw him open the Vault."
'The Vault?"
"There is a secret vault beneath il Vaticano. Go and look for it if you don't believe me."
The cardinal glanced uncertainly at the Borgia, who shrugged and stepped forwards. He came within arm's reach of Ezio and looked around at the cardinals. "You heard this man. He is insane." He stepped closer to address the Assassin. "Even if those poor men's deaths meant nothing to you, repent and you shall be cleansed of your sins in the next life." He took one final step closer and hissed in Ezio's ear, softly enough that only he could hear. "You will burn in hell. Just like your family."
Ezio nutted him.
He realized even as he did it that it wasn't the smartest move, but it was worth it just to see Borgia stagger back, blood streaming from his nose. The guards punched him to the floor and hauled him upright with a blade at his throat. Borgia's blood dripped from his chin, and Ezio laughed. "Get it over with, Templar." He spat on the floor. "Finish this mockery. Kill me if you must, but don't bore me anymore. I confess to it all. The murder of so many men must have slipped my mind."
Borgia swung around to face him, teeth bared in a decidedly un-papal snarl. Drops of blood spattered the carpet.
"We have a confession," the cardinal said quickly... "That is enough." He turned to Ezio. "Do you repent?"
"The only thing I regret is not killing that bastardo when I had the chance." Ezio snarled.
Borgia smiled. His smile was no longer the smile of a second-hand horse dealer. It was a grin of pure malevolence. "This man is insane." He wiped blood from his nose with the sleeve of his robe.
"If sanity is measured by my desire to kill you, Borgia, I am the only sane man in this room."
"You see?"The Pope turned to the cardinals. "Ezio Auditore da Firenze. You have confessed to your crimes in front of witnesses. You are hereby sentenced to death. You will be imprisoned until the time of your execution in the Castel Sant'Angelo. Va bene, my son. May God have mercy on your soul."
"Why don't you kill me now?" Ezio asked. Judging from the stunned silence, this did not seem to be a normal response. "I'll tell you. You want the Apple. You are a fake and a liar." He turned to the cardinals. "And you are all fools for believing in him."
Borgia waved his hand. "Vaults, now apples...I grow tired of this man's ranting. Take him away."
The guards obeyed.
Ezio's eyes did not leave Borgia's until the guards had dragged him from the room. Most of the cardinals ignored him, as if he was beneath even their notice, except one. Campeggio stared after him with a worried expression on his face.
"Ask him about the Eden fragments," Ezio called as the guards hauled him down the staircase. "Ask him about the cryp--" He broke off as one of the guards kicked him. Free, Ezio would have dodged the blow easily, but the chains hampered his movement and wrapped themselves painfully around his legs. He went down in a crash of ironwork. Dimly he heard the captain's voice drift over his head. "I told you to shut up."
Ezio got painfully to his feet. He said nothing else as the guards escorted him down the ramp and along the narrow passageway that led to his cell. They shoved him in and left him alone, taking the light with them.
After he had heard their footsteps die away Ezio got to his feet. He paced four strides to the back wall, then four strides the other way, trying to move without the chains rattling. You never knew when such a skill would come in useful. He hadn't given up. Not by a long shot. If the worst came to the worst-well, he had a son to carry on the line, and the artifacts were safe enough for now.
He had almost mastered moving quietly when the door of his cell was unlocked and opened again.
They took him to a small room on the same level. It was stone-walled, like his cell, lit by a single brazier. There was a chair in the centre of the room and a low arched door on the opposite side. They had not waited long when a door opened in the shadows of the arch and Borgia walked in. He had changed from his papal robes into a simple shirt and doublet such as any man might wear. There were no cardinals here, and no carpet.
"Ezio," he asked pleasantly. "Where is the Apple?"
Ezio matched the man's triumphant smile. "I don't know," he said.
Roma, 1500.
"Will you just hurry?" Rosa tapped her foot. "Avanti! You are slow as a snail."
Leonardo kicked his horse into a trot. He winced as his muscles protested at even the small movement. They had been travelling for four days with barely a rest. After deciphering Ezio's message, he had paid a porter to finish his packing and ridden out with Rosa the same day. "There is no point in exhausting the horses," he pointed out.
"Bah! They are as fresh as daisies. And we are almost there." Rosa snapped her head around to glare at him. Her eyes were dark with worry and exhaustion.
"By my calculations, we have nearly three hours to go before we reach Roma." Leonardo told her.
"Curse your calculations. We shall be there much sooner."
Leonardo reviewed his mental arithmetic. If a horse trots at eight miles an hour, he thought, and the last way marker we passed marked Roma as thirty- two miles distant, then my calculations are correct.
Rosa interrupted his musings. "If you had not brought so much paper the journey would have been quicker."
"My sketchbooks are necessary for my work." Leonardo said mildly. "I have designed a device for opening up a prison by means of a giant winch. This may come in handy."
Rosa looked interested for the first time. "Is it small enough to be smuggled into Sant'Angelo, maybe in a laundrywoman's basket?"
Leonardo admitted that it was probably not.
"Your head is as full as ideas as a cheese is full of holes! And most of them are useless!"
They passed the rest of the journey in silence and arrived at the city gates three hours later. Leonardo refrained from drawing Rosa's attention to the fact.
The guards eyed them suspiciously. "What do you want?"
"My name is Leonardo da Vinci. This is my ...associate, Rosa."
Rosa nodded tightly. "Stop looking at my tits,' she told the guard."Che cazzo!"
The guard scowled. "Charmed, I'm sure." He turned his attention back to Leonardo. "I think I've heard of you. Why are you here?"
"Um," Leonardo said. He hadn't been to Roma in years. "I'm here to view the tapestries."
The guard looked bemused. "Tapestries?"
"Churches." Leonardo said quickly. "Paintings. Sculptures. Artifacts. Processions." He waved one hand. "Objects of that sort."
The guard shrugged. "There's no accounting for taste." He waved them through. "Shouldn't be a bad time to visit, if you're interested in that sort of thing. And Signore da Vinci?"
Leonardo nodded without really listening.
"While you're here, I suggest you find yourself a more polite whore."
"I am no whore, porca puttana." Rosa glared at him.
"Well, I wouldn't pay you."
Rosa spat a curse. She kicked her horse forwards. It trotted through the gateway, forcing the guard to jump out of the way. Leonardo followed. He heard the guard swearing from behind them as he brushed the mud from his armor.
They found a cheap inn near the Vatican and stabled their horses. Leonardo negotiated a pair of rooms, and they met in the stable yard after a hasty meal. Rosa had changed into a boy's outfit. It suited her far better than her skirts ever had. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"To the Ponte Sant'Angelo."Leonardo adjusted the fit of a long easel-case he'd brought to conceal the artifacts.
Rosa looked at Leonardo incredulously. "That's crazy."
"Nevertheless." Leonardo checked the pouch in which he had secreted Ezio's note. "That is where the artifacts are."
"You're crazy. He's crazy. Vaffanculo! Nobody sane would hide something near so many guards."
"Exactly." Leonardo headed towards the glint of water. He had visited Roma only once, and that was many years ago, but it was not a difficult place to find your way around. "You just have to find the river..."he muttered, underneath his breath.
Rosa frowned. "What?"
"Nothing."
They reached the Arno a few minutes later. Rosa hung over the parapets, gazing at the rippling water below. When she had subjected the river to intense scrutiny she shaded her eyes and looked over the rooftops. 'What's that?"
Leonardo looked at her, surprised. "St Paul's. The Vatican. You've never travelled?"
"Why travel? I have all I need in Venezia." She studied the building carefully as they walked. "It looks large. And expensive."
"It is."
"You know this place? You've been here before?" At his nod she slapped him on the shoulder. Her grip had the force of a man's. Leonardo staggered. "Then tell me something I don't know about that building, artist. Something interesting."
Leonardo searched his memory. "Um. There's a rumor that it has one of the largest libraries of pornography in the world."
Rosa frowned. "But they're priests," she pointed out.
"Yes. Um. It's not true, anyway. They have a few drawings, I'm told, but nothing extensive. But it makes a good story."
"It does." Rosa smirked. "That's a pity. If it was true, we'd know what Ezio was doing in Rome before he tried to kill the Pope."She did not sound disapproving.
It is a pity the man has a blind spot when it comes to members of his own sex. Leonardo thought ruefully. He changed the subject as they rounded the curve of the Arno and saw a crowd gathered on the bank. "What's that?"
The sound of lutes, cornets and tambourines drifted over the water. Rosa cocked her head, "It's a parade. What are they celebrating?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
They drew closer. Rosa hovered protectively at Leonardo's shoulder. Her head snapped from side to side as she kept a wary watch for pickpockets. "At least it will distract people from our destination," she said optimistically, glaring at a small boy who hesitated for a second too long beside Leonardo's belt pouch.
Leonardo jumped onto the corner of a horse trough to get a better look. But the crowd was too thick for him to see the Castel Sant'Angelo, and his shoes slipped on the wet stone. He fell painfully, elbowing a woman in the shoulder and earning a scornful glance from Rosa. "Let me do the climbing," she snapped.
Leonardo flushed. He found a slightly more secure position and propped himself up on the trough so he could get a good view of the spectacle. He saw almost immediately that there was no point cutting round. The crush was everywhere. They'd have to wait until the crowd dispersed.
I must make a device, he thought, lit by braziers, with colored glass over them, to indicate when the road was clear and one could cross. He fumbled for his notebook as the first horse pranced by at a stately trot.
Rosa hissed between her teeth. "Borgia."
Startled, Leonardo looked up. "Rodrigo?"Instead of the stout, bearded man he was expecting, he saw a dark man dressed in steel and velvet. A flag bearing the Borgia red bull flew above his head
"Cesare," Rosa spat.
Leonardo nodded. He'd heard the name before.
The woman who Leonardo had assaulted earlier pushed forwards to get a better look. "He's on his way to the Vatican," she said chattily. "They're making him Captain of the Church."
Leonardo frowned. He'd heard of the younger Borgia's reputation for capricious viciousness. He had to admit that the man certainly looked the part. He resembled the dark knight from a tale. His armor was tinted black, the same color as his clothes, and his hawkish nose and pencil-thin moustache reinforced the impression of slightly louche cruelty. He was surrounded by a retinue of mercenaries who wore the Borgia family crest of a red bull. The soldiers encircled a carriage whose coats of arms had been scrawled out with black paint and painted over with a crude representation of the same animal. There was a flicker of movement at the windows, but no face appeared.
Rosa frowned. She sidled up to Leonardo and watched the carriage vanish into the crowded streets. Cesare's escort passed with much fanfare and clashing of armor, and then the streets began to empty. Leonardo slipped down from the horse-trough and made his way across the square.
"Is it far?" Rosa asked.
Leonardo pointed at the four-pillar bridge that stretched across the river in front of them. Its reflection hung perfectly in the still water below it, detailed enough that Leonardo could make out the mirror images of the condemned criminals whose bodies hung from the bridge reflected in the water. "That's it."
They reached the bridge a few minutes later and wandered across it like sightseers. Leonardo studied its corpses with anatomical interest, noting the curve of an exposed jawbone, the ropy, dried muscles of a man's calf. Rosa was more practical.
"Not him. Not him. Not him. Hmm..." She studied one corpse. "No, not him either." She followed Leonardo as he dodged a rosary-seller and came to rest, like a fish drawn by the tides, against the travertine marble plinth of one of the statues that decorated the bridge. He muttered "In aerumna mea dum configitur spina," under his breath.
"Where is it?" Rosa asked impatiently.
Leonardo looked up at the marble face of an angel with a crown of thorns. "It's here," he said.
"Here?' Rosa stared at the angel as if its mouth would open and speak the location of the artifacts.
Leonardo unrolled the scrap of parchment. He pointed at the scrawled sketch of an orb and staff, and then at a Latin phrase scribbled on the left-hand side of the paper. He held the parchment up to the inscription on the base of the statue. The two matched.
"Where is it? I cannot see it."
Leonardo peered over the balustrade. The Arno's chilly waters rippled below them. He brushed a fly from his face. "It must be underneath."
Rosa came to stand beside him. "Hand me the bag."
She took the easel-case from Leonardo, glanced both ways, and slipped over the side of the bridge. He heard scuffling sounds from underneath his feet. The Castel Sant'Angelo squatted on the opposite bank of the river. The statue of a sword-wielding Saint Michael that stood on its ramparts looked threatening rather that beautiful. Leonardo regarded the building warily. He could see soldiers on the battlements, but they didn't seem to be taking much notice. "Have you got it?" he whispered down to her.
There was no reply. Somebody tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around, instantly on the defensive, praying Rosa did not suddenly appear.
A thin man thrust a handful of grubby wooden beads under his nose. "Rosary?"
Leonardo shook his head. The vendor was more persistent. "It's cheap."
"I'm sorry, but no." Leonardo backed up, rotating until the salesman had his own back to the balustrade of the bridge. If Rosa did appear, the chances were the man wouldn't see her.
The man spat. "Thought business'd be good, what with the parade," he said reflectively. "Those Borgias, though, they're bad for trade."
Leonardo could not fault him there. He stared over the man's shoulder but saw nothing.
"Lucky, though," the salesman said. "That bastard just captured the Tiger of Forli."
Leonardo wondered if he'd heard correctly. "Pardon?" he asked. He'd known Forli was under siege, but he'd never thought the town would fall so quickly. Caterina Sforza had held her castle successfully against the Orsis only two years previously.
The rosary-seller spat and slid his hand under his grubby shirt to scratch his chest. "Didn't you see the parade? Lady in the carriage? That was Caterina Sforza."
Leonardo's heart sank. 'What of her family?" he questioned desperately. "There were children."
The salesman shrugged.
'I'll buy a rosary," Leonardo bargained. He drew a florin from his purse. The salesman's eyes went instantly to the coin. "The kids are in Firenze with the Medici," he said without taking his eyes from the florin."I heard that Lorenzo, il Magnifico's cousin-that-was, I heard he's personally taken custody of the youngest boy. Bit strange, that, if you ask me. You'd have thought he'd want to keep him with his family."
Leonardo hardly heard him. "Thank God," he breathed. He shoved the florin into the salesman's grubby hand and moved away to stand against the base of the statue. He thought for a second that the man would follow him, but the satisfied hawker wandered off to accost a well-heeled Roman couple out for an afternoon stroll.
There was a scuffling noise. Rosa reappeared, brandishing the bag like a scepter. She slipped over the balustrade and turned to Leonardo, 'What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Leonardo shook himself and turned to her. "Did you find them?"
Rosa nodded. She unlaced the bag a fraction so Leonardo could peer in. He saw a round, golden object and the unmistakable shape of the pastoral staff. Both objects were caked in pigeon shit. "We have it.' She dug down into the bag. 'But there's one thing I don't understand."
Leonardo was surprised it was only one thing. He himself had felt like he was treading deep water since he'd received Ezio's message. "What?"
Rosa pulled out a tubular leather object. She dug around and produced a second one. Leonardo was not expecting them, and so it took him a few seconds before he recognized Ezio's greaves, adapted for combat by the addition of hidden blades.
Rosa frowned." Why would Ezio hide his daggers?"
Leonardo hurriedly replaced both objects in the bag. "This is bad," he said conversationally, tugging at Rosa's sleeve. "Let's get back. We need to make sure the artifacts are safe."
"I just-Dio mio! Ezio would never leave those weapons. He told me once his father left them to him. Unless..." she paused. 'Unless he thought he was going to die. Unless he intended to leave them to his descendants. But that doesn't make sense. He hasn't got any." She studied Leonardo's expression. "Has he?"
Leonardo said nothing.
"He has?"
"People are beginning to stare." Leonardo said levelly. He grabbed Rosa's sleeve and dragged her into a walk. She shook his hand away, but she followed.
"Who with?" she hissed.
Leonardo sighed. 'While I was waiting for you on the bridge," he said. "I talked to a man who told me about Cesare's victory. He's captured Forli, Rosa. The Lady Caterina Sforza was in that carriage we saw."
"What does this have to do with-?"
"Listen. It's important. The man told me her children are safe in Firenze. With the Medici."
Rosa frowned. "Do you know the Sforza woman?"
Leonardo shook his head. "I've never met her."
"Then why do you even care about her? About her children? What does this have to do with Ezio?"
Leonardo sighed. He patted the linen bag at his side and turned to face Rosa. "Because Giovanni, Caterina's youngest son," he told her, "isn't Caterina's husband's at all. He's Ezio's."
Author's Notes:
I HAVE MORE FANART!
Chapter three illustration: 'Borgia swung around to face him, teeth bared in a decidedly un-papal snarl' is posted on my livejournal; xahra99
and linked to by .
Vai in culo; the equivalent of 'Fuck off'
Che cazzo stai dicendo: 'What the fuck are you talking about?'
Leonardo da Vinci did really design a device for escaping from prison that worked by ripping bars out of the window using a giant screw. There were statues on the Ponte Sant'Angelo in the fifteenth century, but the present ones weren't erected until 1669. Caterina Sforza was captured after the siege of Forli by Cesare Borgia, but she wasn't transferred to the Castel Sant'Angelo until later in the year. Her children stayed in Florence during her captivity but her youngest son, Giovanni (named after his father and coincidentally, also Ezio's) was looked after by Lorenzo de'Medici, the cousin of the Lorenzo de'Medici who featured in the game.
