Part Eight: Death of a Banker
The following day, Ezio arrived at the Mercato Vecchio. Originally built as a Roman Forum in ancient times, it had eventually converted to a massive open-air market, filled with peddlers and merchants and wheeler-dealers; everything from grain, wool, linen, flax, pork, apothecaries, even doctors sold their business at the market. Roman arches bordered the square; perfect semicircles that topped columns forming and impressive rectangle, and always bustling with people.
He spent the morning fruitlessly searching the crowds of the Mercato, trying to make himself visible to wherever La Volpe might be watching, but not obvious to the guards that patrolled. It was a fine balance and he might have even enjoyed the challenge but as he bought some bread and cheese from one of the merchants to snack on for lunch, he couldn't help but be frustrated. Tension in the city was rising, whatever the Pazzi were planning would likely happen once it was at a breaking point, and it would be soon. Ezio was getting impatient. He needed to find this Fox, but he found nothing.
High above, an eagle screeched, and Ezio felt like an idiot.
Without changing what he was doing, he reached for that part of his mind that let him see the unseen. Colors faded and shadows seemed to darken as he looked at the world with fresh eyes. He walked around the market, not even looking at anything specific as he just focused on what he needed to see. Once he reached the northwest corner, he saw a flash of gold, the hit of what he was looking for.
He looked again, his focus narrowing, trying to catch what had caught his eye.
A thief bumped into him, jogging by in a hurry, and Ezio's purse suddenly felt lighter.
"What!? My pouch! - My money!"
"Oh... your money..." the thief taunted in insincere tones. "I don't have your money!" the dirty man laughed, pushing back his cap and gazing down his nose.
Ezio needed no other prompting. Monteriggioni didn't have funds truly coming in yet and while he had brought enough money to survive for a few days, he was keeping his expenses as low as he could. He couldn't afford to lose such financing.
"Get back here!"
He took off running and the thief only laughed as he took off faster than a bird. Well Ezio could match that speed, and he could dance through the afternoon crowds far better than the thief. Despite wearing armor and thus, having to carry more than the thief, Ezio quickly gained on him as they ducked through alleys, stands, and at one point, a garden of a palazzo.
The thief, seeing that Ezio was catching up, decided to take to the roofs and swiftly started to climb. Well two could play at that game. Here, however, Ezio's armor did slow him down compared to the thief. Once on the roofline, the thief had put great distance between them, but Ezio had raced Mario on roofs and had kept in practice in Monteriggioni, even at night.
This chase had gone on long enough. In a burst of speed, he tackled the thief onto a flat roof overlooking the Arno. They both stood, Ezio panting.
"I really have no interest in hurting you," he said between breaths. "So give me back my money and we'll call it even." Ezio acknowledged the skill of this thief; but Ezio was simply faster.
"Not so fast," a new voice interrupted. Ezio whirled, shocked that he hadn't sensed him coming, and rushed to steady his breathing. The man was in browns and faded oranges, a hood similar to Ezio's raised, though it was likely to hide his purple eyes than to hide his face as it was for Ezio.
"What do you want?" he asked cautiously. "Who are you?"
"They call me many things," the purple-eyed stranger said with confidence and an air of mystery that reminded him of Paola. "Murderer. Cutthroat. Thief. But you may call me La Volpe." He gave a grand bow. "At your service, Messer Ezio."
Ezio was grateful to finally find the Fox he was looking for, but... "How do you know my name?" He took a step back, weary.
"It is my business to know everything in this city," Volpe chuckled. "Isn't that why you're here?"
"Indeed," Ezio nodded. "I need to find someone; to know where he'll be even before he does."
"Who?" Volpe crossed his arms, and smiled. Ezio suspected this thief already knew the answer.
"Francesco de' Pazzi," Ezio said and couldn't quite hold back his hatred and contempt from his voice.
"Bene," Volpe nodded. "I've been keeping my ears open since your uncle contacted me. There's word on the street of a caravan just arrived from Roma: A secret meeting at sunset tonight. You can likely learn something of Francesco's whereabouts there."
"Do you know where it is to be held?"
"Yes," Volpe nodded again. Glancing back, he smiled unrepentantly and added, "Oh, yes. Here's your money." He pulled the purse from the thief Ezio had been chasing and tossed it to the young Florentine. The thief laughed and hopped off the building and disappeared into another alley.
"Follow me," the Fox smiled mischievously. "But we must move fast! Think you can keep up?" There was a hint of challenge in that voice.
"Not a problem," Ezio was never one to back down from a challenge. This skinny, almost bone-thin thief needed to be taken down a peg, and Ezio had enough confidence in his speed to be able to do it.
Too bad Volpe took off like a crossbow bolt, almost gliding across the rooftops.
"What are you doing back there?" he called with a laugh, as Ezio struggled to get his already burning muscles moving. "I said to keep up with me!"
Ezio laughed at his own over-confidence.
Volpe was clearly lighter than Ezio and was fresh for the challenge. Ezio truly didn't stand a chance. And as much as it pained him every time he saw the Fox slow or wait as he tried to catch up, he was grateful that Volpe didn't just leave him in the dust.
They flew across the rooftops north and arrived overlooking the Santa Maria Novella. The oldest basilica in the city, and only just finished some eight years ago. It was resplendent with frescos inside, and funded by many of the wealthiest families of Florence, buying their own family or private chapels on sacred ground. Rumor had it the site was a church since even before the crusades, and the church rumored to hold a sacred tomb somewhere in its depths.
Ezio panted heavily while La Volpe wasn't even winded, though the young Florentine did take pride that he kept up. Barely. "Here we are!" the Fox offered cheerfully. Ezio didn't even have the breath to chuckle. "Francesco de' Pazzi is meeting his people inside that church."
"How do I join them?" Ezio said once he had better control of his breath.
"There are catacombs that run under the city. They'll lead you to a place where you can eavesdrop on the meeting." The young Florentine nodded, already spying something he hadn't ever noticed before. His sharp eyes saw the skull in a triangle symbol buried in a small fountain by the church and Ezio couldn't help but feel that was his way in. After all, it was a symbol on the statues in the Sanctuary back at Monteriggioni.
"Thank you for all your help, Volpe."
"Buona fortuna."
Ezio nodded his thanks and dropped down to the fence of the courtyard and then down into the empty garden. He eased his way forward, opening his eyes to see all that an eagle could, and it seemed to glow in gold, indicating it was the right thing to do. Ezio poked the symbol, ran his fingers over the skull, until he happened to tug at the eyes. The skull seemed to turn, twisting until it was upside-down, revealing the stylized compass that was the symbol of the Assassin's, worn on Ezio's belt and bracer, on Mario's shoulder guard, and the fountain drained and a small tunnel that one could crawl through was revealed.
And Ezio knew there was another such symbol, another skull in an Assassin's symbol, at the Duomo. He and his brother had often commented on it when they were children, wondering why a skull was on the wall of the cathedral. Something to ponder later. For now, he had catacombs to crawl through.
Ezio cursed once he was inside. It was incredibly dark, the setting sun above casting long shadows over any crack or crevice above that could give light for Ezio to navigate by. From what little illumination he had, he grasped through old bones and cloth, apologizing to whoever existed for these poor souls of the desecration he was doing. With a femur bone as a torch covered in old dry cloth that he was somehow able to set alight with his flint.
Once properly outfitted with his light source, Ezio started to roam the catacombs. Keeping his sense of direction was tricky, as he often turned off at an angle or had to make some sort of u-turn in order to navigate. Several times he came across dead ends and needed to turn around and backtrack. Still, the time wandering helped Ezio to get his wind back after chasing a thief and then the skinny Volpe across the Florentine roofs.
From his pack he pulled some dried fruit bought earlier once his stomach rumbled. Still, it was a long time before, while looking for some trace of gold with his Eagle Vision to see where to go, that he spied an Assassin symbol of a compass in a cup. Only it wasn't upright.
Ezio at last let out a smile. It was a direction. Faint, faded, and barely seen unless one had a certain gift. At last he started to make his way through the catacombs with more confidence.
"How long do we have to stand here, Saverio? It's so cold," a voice complained in the distance. Ezio immediately dropped his improvised torch, stomping it out and relying on the echoing voices to guide him.
"What do you want, Ilario?" another voice replied. "Messer Pazzi is paying us good money to watch the entrance, and the dead won't try to murder us. I can't wait to go home to Elana and tell her how much gold we made tonight!"
Ezio let out a silent sigh and hoped he wouldn't have to kill this pair of guards. He may be an Assassin, but he had no taste for killing. Guards were hired. Some were truly loyal, but by the sounds of it, those two were only loyal to the coin paid them. Pitiable. So Ezio snuck forward, using the shadows to his advantage until, at last, he saw the torchlight of the lonely guards stationed ahead of him.
He glanced down the hall of crypts, spying the two shivering by torchlight. Ezio carefully edged his way further down the hall he was on, seeking another way past them, but found no turns that would lead behind the guards.
"Merda," Ezio swore, backtracking to the narrow hall.
He was better rested, though getting tired after a long day and a longer afternoon of running around. Ezio pulled out some bread and more dried fruit, hoping it would give him the needed sustenance to face whatever lay beyond these two guards.
I hope this Elana wishes well for you, Ezio offered in silent prayer.
Then he was dashing forward and in a controlled leap of over a year of practice, he knocked one of the guards down and plunged his hidden blade into the man's neck, avoiding the armor and digging in to the heart.
The other guards was already running away. "Saverio!" he called back. "I'll be back with the other guards!"
"Requiescat in pace," Ezio whispered, closing Saverio's eyes and hoping his death wouldn't harm this Elana person too much. Then he was off, chasing Ilario. Thankfully, the guard had grabbed the torch with him, making him incredibly easy to track as all Ezio had to do was follow the light. And with his keen eyes pinned on the fleeing Ilario, Ezio saw all the obstacles ahead and judged when he and his pace would meet them and avoid them.
"Leave me alone!" Ilerio called, "You demon! Go back to hell!"
Ezio didn't reply, letting the guard's terror trip him up.
But the catacombs were old. And one leap the guard made left stone crumbling away. Ezio couldn't follow that way, but it didn't matter. He merely hopped up the ledges to an upper ledge of stone used for the upper catacombs. The guard, though panicked, was nowhere near as fast as him and he caught up quickly.
Well, Ezio had wanted to practice, but he was fairly certain this would work.
With a flying leap, he landed on top of Ilerio, diving his blade into the man's neck as he had with Saverio. The man didn't even gurgle.
"Requiescat in pace for you as well," Ezio whispered.
Ahead he could see a light and slowly he edged his way forward.
Down a series of steps was a small squad of guards, playing some sort of game around their candles. Beyond was a door and in the echoing of the catacombs, Ezio thought he heard Spanish vowels.
Bene, he thought, now to get to that door without the guards noticing.
He studied the room, with a high vaulted ceiling, likely a holy place centuries past for preparing the bodies for the catacombs behind him. That meant he was below the Santa Maria Novella. Nodding to himself, Ezio looked around and spotted a ledge high above the light of the candles. A quick glance showed a broken arch column that would lead up to it.
On near silent feet, as the guards were laughing at some dirty joke, Ezio leapt up and grasped the ledge, barely wider than his foot, and started the laborious process of edging around the room.
It took the better part of a half hour, Ezio's arms aching and it was only when he was halfway around the room that his feet found footing and he was able to somewhat rest his arms. But he had made it, and he dropped down silently, the guards still unaware, and eased through the door that was so old, it couldn't even shut any more.
The voices ahead were louder now, and Ezio took a turn leading up to a higher vantage point and watched through a barred widow in the hall that circled around the meeting room. Inside, there was a type of chanting in Latin.
"Et benedictio Dei omnipotentis, Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti descendat super vos et maneat semper."
"Grazie, padre. Bernado?"
Ezio strained to look through to see the men who were talking.
"It's all here." The plump man with a feathered cap dressed in red said, gesturing to the weapons on the table. Ezio squinted. Was he Venetian? Or from San Gimignano? "Swords. Staves. Axes. Armor. Bows. Our men will want for nothing." Not Venetian, wrong accent.
"I take this gift to mean the Pope consents?" A bald priest in brown robes asked.
"He gave his blessing to the operation..." the Spaniard said, putting his hands lightly on the table. "Of course, that was only 'as long as nobody is killed'."
"We're all set for the Duomo in the morning, Signore," Francesco nodded. "The bait's been laid, but it wasn't easy." Francesco pushed back his curly hair and gave a wide grin. "His fool brother keeps changing his plans..."
"Si!" the plump Bernardo agreed. "We'll need to be on hand to make sure Guiliano even gets out of bed for church tomorrow!"
They all laughed.
Ezio found nothing to laugh at. They were planning something for Mass tomorrow? Had they no sense of honor? But Ulderico's constant reminders that not all were honorable echoed in his mind.
The Spaniard noticed that someone else wasn't laughing. "What is it, Jacopo? Do you think they suspect something?"
"Impossible!" Francesco interrupted. "The Medici are too arrogant or too stupid to even notice. Likely a bit of both."
Bernardo laughed.
The Medici? Was their plan in regards to the Medici or were they simply wary of the Medici? Guiliano Medici was Lorenzo's brother, or was it someone else entirely?
"Do not underestimate our enemies, Francesco!" Jacopo hissed. His old face creased in contempt of his relative. "Or have you already forgotten how your son was murdered?"
Vieri's father pursed his lips and turned right to Borgia. "We'll suffer no such surprises this time, Maestro. You have my word," he assured and bowed.
"Molto bene," the Spaniard nodded. "I should be off. I've some other business to attend to before I return to Rome." He looked imperiously at them. "Gentleman. Tomorrow, a new sun rises over Firenze. May the Father of Understanding guide us."
"May the Father of Understanding guide us," they all responded.
From there they dispersed, heading out and Ezio's mouth thinned. They were planning something for tomorrow during mass. Against the Medici. Unacceptable. He had to stop it. Somewhere in the crowds coming to worship, he'd find the curly-haired Francesco, and kill him.
Now he just needed to get out of here.
The way he had gone seemed the best way, but Ezio paused, his sharp eyes spying another Assassin symbol, pointing in a different direction. He followed it down an almost invisible staircase and saw a statue. One very familiar statue, from the Sanctuary. A statue of Darius. Ezio looked around with fresh interest, spying many treasures that he could sell to fund his time here in Firenze and send money back to Monteriggioni to start more repairs around the town. He grabbed what he could, but before he left, his eyes went to the tomb itself.
It felt wrong to open it. This was an Assassin, a predecessor of his, in a way, and Ezio did feel a kinship. It may not have been the way he wished to live his life, but it was a part of him now. But, with a heavy sigh, Ezio pushed aside the sarcophagus's lid and looked inside.
He held back a gasp as he reached in and pulled out a seal that looked to fill in the missing spot of the statue back in Monteriggioni perfectly, one faintly engraved with a hidden blade like one of the seals to the armor of Altair. Perhaps this was a way to get to that light but sturdy armor? He'd have to test the theory when he returned.
But for now, his eyes had spied a trace of gold that would lead to his exit.
He pushed open a wall that was a hidden door and dropped down into the sewers. From here, it was easy to follow it to the Arno and climb up to a small pier. In fact, this was the southwest pier where he'd met Volpe earlier. Ezio hid a chuckle. The sun had set and he walked up the stairs, making no move to hide for wherever Volpe's men were, and found a small, cheap tavern to get a good bath at.
Cleaned and feeling much better, Ezio sat down in the tavern proper with a glass of cheap wine and a small but surprisingly good meal.
From the shadows Volpe emerged, sitting down with the young Florentine and ordering a glass of wine for himself.
"I know where Francesco will be and when. But..." Ezio said quietly.
"What is it?" Volpe asked, his eyes roaming the crowd.
"I overheard something..." Ezio replied. "They have weapons, enough for a battalion. Even the Pope has given support."
"Typical of Sixtus," the Fox spat, "but... What the hell are they planning?"
"I couldn't understand the specifics," Ezio shook his head, frustrated at having all the pieces but no proper picture of the Pazzi's plan. "But it involved the Medici. And it begins tomorrow morning, at the Duomo."
"The Medici will be there for Sunday service...," Volpe shrugged. "And the rest of Firenze. It is Easter after all."
Both Ezio and Volpe suddenly looked to each other in complete understanding. The Pazzi had been spreading dissension around Florence, building the tension. Tomorrow would be their move. "They're going to do it right in the middle of mass..." Volpe whispered, horror across his face.
"But it's also a chance for me to blend with the crowd," Ezio looked into his wine, planning, "get close, and stop this madness." And kill another Pazzi bastardo who had been responsible for the death of his family.
Volpe had other concerns, however. "If they succeed... If we lose Lorenzo, and Firenze falls to the Pazzi..."
"It will not come to that. I promise," Ezio vowed. The Medici wouldn't be harmed, simply because Ezio would kill Francesco and the other people from the meeting before they even reached the Medici family. Francesco first.
"I hope you're right," Volpe shook his head. The Fox stood, saying nothing more, and weaved out of the crowd, lightening purses as he went. Ezio held in a chuckle and finished his meal. It was very late and he wanted to turn in. He needed plenty of sleep for the work he needed to do the following morning.
Easter Sunday dawned bright but cool. As the sun rose, Ezio pulled his hood over his head and merged into the crowds as they made their way en masse to the Santa Maria del Fiore. As the crowds grew thicker and thicker, Ezio began changing his gate regularly, blending into the crowds and hoping he appeared invisible. The number of people milling about the cathedral easily numbered into the thousands, perhaps even as high as ten thousand; good for Ezio, but also bad, because as good as his eyes were, there were limits on finding the hints of gold necessary to pick out his targets.
Frowning, he kept to the massive double doors of the cathedral, watching the church fill with people and hoping he could spy what he was looking for that way. His eyes picked out Lorenzo, bony nose and prominent forehead, escorting his wife and children and smiling happily - ignorant of whatever conspiracy the Pazzi, the Templars, had concocted for him - as he conversed with the crowds arm in arm with his wife, beautiful and elegantly dressed. Slightly behind and to the side was Lorenzo's brother Guiliano, the handsome Golden Boy and counterpart to Il Magnifico, also arm and arm with his wife. They walked down the central isle to their honored place at the front of the congregation.
But where was Francesco...?
There, pushing through the crowds, Ezio saw the curly dark hair of Francesco, flanked by the heavy-set Bernardo. Seeing him in the full morning light, Ezio vaguely recognized him as one of the Pazzi's bankers; perhaps that was how he was able to secure so many weapons? It didn't matter; Ezio didn't have time to think about it as he watched the two stalking towards the Medici. The young Florentine started to gently push his way through the throng of people, wanting to stop their lumbering, dangerous gate.
Over the din of the crowds, Ezio could hear Bernardo shouting. "Here, traitor!" the plump banker broke out into a run, stiletto in hand, and gave a vicious backhanded slash at Guiliano's unprotected neck, both he and his wife staring in shock at the advance. Guiliano clutched at his throat, his wife screaming to the top of her lungs, and Ezio stopped being gentle as he started to shove his way through the crowd, thickening even more as the spectators began to realize what was happening. The immaculate marble floor splattered with blood.
Guiliano stumbled to his feet, Bernardo apparently having missed a vital artery, tried to run, but only into the arms of Francesco.
Lorenzo, meanwhile, hearing the cries, turned to see his brother stabbed by the bearded Francesco.
"Guiliano!" he shouted, horrified, "No-!" He moved away from his wife and the priests he was talking to, instinctively wishing to protect his brother, and to Ezio's horror one of the bishops he was talking to pulled out a knife and grabbed Lorenzo's shoulder, spinning him around and slashing him as well.
Both Medici? The patrons of Florence? Would Ezio be too late for even his beloved city as well as his family? Growling, Ezio pushed his way further, desperate to stop what he was seeing, the gallows superimposing over his eyes.
Francesco, gloves and blade bloody, shoved Guiliano to the heavy Bernardo who held the bleeding man in place.
"No!" he cried out, terrified. "In the name of God, I beg you, mercy!" The handsome man managed to break from Bernardo's grasp, fear giving him strength, but Bernardo only slashed again, Guiliano falling to the ground.
"No mercy for you, dog!" Francesco shouted, stabbing him brutally. Guiliano cried out, but his body stilled as well. "Die! DIE! DIEEE!" Francesco cried out, stabbing the body over and over and over with Bernardo. His moves were clumsy, Ezio could see as the man's rage overtook him. He thought Francesco might have stabbed his own leg, but Ezio couldn't examine it further as he tried with renewed vigor to shove his way through the throngs. In less than a minute Guiliano was dead and the young assassin still had not gotten close enough to stop it.
Lorenzo was still fighting off a priest, another man Ezio recognized, Antonio Maffei, a monk that sometimes visited the villa Auditore. Even he...? Lorenzo was a better fighter than his brother it seemed, or at least was matched to a monk with no formal training. He shoved Maffei away, drawing his sword and holding it menacingly to the monk. Maffei and the other clergymen all but ran from the scene, deeper into the belly of the cathedral, but Francesco had finished brutalizing the Medici's brother and stood, covered in blood, and tossed his knife aside, drawing his sword to match Lorenzo.
"Your day is done, Lorenzo!" he shouted. "Your entire family dies by my sword!" He charged and gave a brutal swing that Lorenzo deflected with some skill. The second strike was much more precise, and Lorenzo, wounded, was pushed back.
Ezio had had enough. At last he pushed the last of the crowd aside and drew his sword, brazenly stepping between the Pazzi and the Medici and deflecting a third strike.
Francesco swung mercilessly, but he had been trained to duel, not to fight, and Ezio had no problem deflecting blows over and over. He did not risk a counterstrike, determined to keep himself between the raving Francesco and Lorenzo de' Medici. "You brought this on yourself!" he was shouting, "Die! Just die!"
"No one else is dying today," Ezio growled, deflecting another strike. "Except for you!"
A pair of city guards entered the church, flanking Francesco in attacking Ezio. The nineteen-year-old firmly kept himself planted in front of Lorenzo, until the patron sidestepped one of Ezio's swings and delivered a quick and precise strike on one of the guards, slashing him under the arm and circling a counterstrike back. His footing stumbled, slightly, and Ezio took up the place, circling the sword of the second city guard away. He saw Francesco running away, a coward like his son, and Ezio grunted under a surprisingly strong swing, forcing him to refocus on the battle and kill the guard he was fighting.
For a moment, there was quiet, and Ezio took a breath.
"You... saved my life," Lorenzo said, panting and incredibly pale. The slash that Maffei had given him was under his ear, close to his neck.
"It's nothing," Ezio started to say, but whatever strength Lorenzo had at last seeped out of him, and the patron of Florence sank heavily to his knees. Ezio dropped his words and quickly closed the distance between he and Lorenzo, kneeling down and grabbing the man's shoulders to prevent him from falling over completely. "Signore!" he said. He looked out across the giant square, the crowds had all but disappeared in terror, and the hooded man could see a veritable flood of city guards begin to descend upon them. "It's not safe for us here," he said quickly, turning back to the bleeding Lorenzo. "Do you know of a place we can go?" His first thought had been the villa, but his childhood home would never be safe again.
"To my home..." Lorenzo said. "People I can trust there..." Blood was streaming down his neck and across his robes, staining everything. His face was absolutely white, as were his lips; he was sweating, and he couldn't seem to get enough air.
"Hang on, Signore!" Ezio said, throwing an arm over his shoulders and wrapping his hand around the patron's waist. "I'll get you there."
Carrying more than dragging, Ezio hauled Lorenzo to his feet and dashed as quickly as the extra weight could carry him. Much as he burned with killing Francesco for the man's many, many sins, his first priority was protecting at least one man. If he couldn't save his family from the gallows, he would be damned if he would fail Il Magnifico, the patron of Florence and close friend of his father's.
A fire blocked the first alley Ezio would have taken, and Ezio was forced to take a main street. Everywhere he looked city guards were battling with Medici guards, sword-fighting filled the streets. Civilians were nowhere to be seen, but many eyes watched in horror from the windows. Blood and entrails and feces were everywhere, bodies littered the streets in an unmitigated riot. Ezio had never seen his beloved city look like this, and all he could feel was rage against the Pazzi, the Templars, for the thinking that atrocities like this were acceptable.
Lorenzo seemed to be mirroring his thoughts. Panting though he was, he saw the state of his precious city as well, and he let out a low growl.
"Francesco de' Pazzi," he grunted, strength under the low moan of his voice. "I'll kill him; I'll wipe his entire family from the city! They'll be erased!"
The anger made him faint, however, and his legs buckled, leaving Ezio to stumble with the weight he was carrying.
"Be still, Signore," the Florentine said. "Conserve your energy, or I'll be delivering a corpse."
The Medici moaned, apparently senseless. Ezio cursed and tried to increase his speed. He finally found an alley they could duck through, and Ezio quickly turned north towards the Palazzo Medici. Time was against him, he didn't know how serious Lorenzo's injury was, but bleeding from the neck certainly could not be a good thing. He could not stop to let Lorenzo rest, but all the running about and avoiding the virtual forest of swords was decidedly not helping the injury. Ezio finally forced himself to stop long enough to readjust the Medici's weight, lifting him and balancing him across his shoulders. He could run a little more freely now, and it gave him a burst of speed as he cut down one street, around a throng of civilians crying out in outrage. Someone saw them, and Ezio heard a high-pitched shriek.
"Il Magnifico! He's dead!"
"We can't stand for this!"
Just what Ezio needed. He ducked into another alley and cut immediately into a courtyard, the mob blowing right by him. Panting, he left when he was certain they were alone and once more began his trek north.
"We're almost there now..." he muttered softly.
"Good," Lorenzo moaned, conscious once more. Ezio took that as a good sign and prayed to his father that his long-time friend would stay awake.
The streets slowly filled with Medici guards instead of city guards, and those city guards that spotted Ezio and Lorenzo were quickly waylaid by the men loyal to the Medici. "Get him to the house!" one of the loyalists cried out, and Ezio nodded, running out of breath.
They arrived at the palazzo and saw yet another mob in the front of the house. Frustrated, Ezio growled. "How can we get past that?" he muttered.
Lorenzo groaned. "Servant entrance," he muttered. "Back alley..."
"Of course, signore," he said, moving at a right angle and finding the alley he wanted. He circled around the palazzo and found the servant's entrance Lorenzo had suggested. He set the patron of Florence down on his feet, half leaning him against the doorframe, and pounded on the wooden door.
"I have Lorenzo de' Medici!" he shouted, "He's been wounded! Open the door!"
"Il Magnifico is dead!" a male voice inside shouted. "You can't fool us!"
"He's not dead!" Ezio shouted, pounding on the door again. He kicked it as well, desperate concern for Lorenzo fueling him. "Guiliano is dead, Lorenzo survived! He needs a doctor! Open up damn it, or he'll bleed out! I did not carry him through riots and bloodshed to watch him die!"
A peephole slid open, and Ezio recognized the helmet of a Medici guard. Cold, narrow eyes assessed Ezio. "What's the password?" he demanded.
Lorenzo struggled to his feet and swung into the sight of the peephole. "Poliziano!" he growled, his voice hoarse as blood spurted out from his neck again. "Open the maldetta door!"
Ezio could see the man's eyes triple in size.
"By the Thrice Greatest! He's alive!"
The door opened quickly and the man, Poliziano gestured the two enter. "Come in. Quickly! The city is at war! Hurry!"
The Medici man quickly grew to a swarm of five men; everyone grabbing Lorenzo and carrying him through the kitchen and servant quarters, into a grandiose foyer and up a stairwell to an elaborate chamber Ezio assumed was Lorenzo's bedroom. Poliziano was shouting orders left and right: sending one man to get a doctor, ordering maids to grab any and all towels, demanding the guards to man every entrance to the palazzo. Ezio watched, half-guarding Lorenzo before finally settling for taking a post by the patron's door, looking at every face that came in and out of the room. The doctor arrived with surprising speed, wax coat half open and mask horribly askew as he was half led, half dragged into Lorenzo's chamber. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief with his arrival, and soon everyone else shy of a few maids was whisked out for whatever surgery or treatment was necessary. More than a few guards milled about, uncertain what to do before the man from the door - Poliziano - started ordering them back to their posts.
That left just the two of them. Poliziano was dressed as a guard, but only barely, in ill-fitting armor that was hastily and erroneously put on, the effort of a man unfamiliar with armor but wanting its protection. It was several hours later when the man spoke.
"... I'm sorry I doubted you," he told Ezio.
The young Florentine waved it off. "I don't blame you," he said.
"Information has been haphazard at best," Poliziano explained. "Rumors or half-understood sightings, worry turning into fear turning into fact. I still don't know what happened other than the Medici were attacked at the Duomo. The men that were there were at a distance, more than a few said both were dead, but if Lorenzo is alive, then Guiliano might..." he shook his head. "I need information."
"Then I will provide it," Ezio said, rolling his shoulders and lowering his hood, realizing belatedly it was still on.
The poorly armored man blinked. "You... you were there?"
"I saw everything," Ezio said. He gave a quick and clinical account of what happened, explaining how Lorenzo's brother had been brutalized by Francesco and the heavy-set man named Bernardo, of the treachery of the monk Antonio Maffei and one of the bishops, of Lorenzo's quick sword work and his own attempt to save them, of his journey through the streets and how many thought he was carrying Lorenzo's corpse.
"That explains it," Poliziano said, pulling off his too-big helmet and running a gloved hand through his hair. "No wonder the citizens are crying for blood."
"A sign of loyalty for their beloved patron," Ezio said, shrugging. "I would have done no less, had I still lived here."
"You're a Florentine?"
"I... was," Ezio said slowly, hesitant to give his name to a man who could order his execution.
"Sir! A report!" a guard said, coming down the immaculate hall. "The city guards are attacking the Palazzo della Signoria, they're trying to find and kill the Gonfaloniere! People are saying the papal bankers and the Salviati are behind this as well as the Pazzi. Jacopo de' Pazzi has been killed and thrown out a window; reports indicate his body is being dragged naked through the streets. Guiliano's body has disappeared, the men guarding it were all found dead in a courtyard near the Santa Maria Novella - how they got all the way over there I don't know, but some say he's resurrected and hiding near the Arno. Federico da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino has been spotted outside the city with troops; it looks like he's preparing to attack. Many Pazzi are being gathered together and summarily executed by the citizens, we're trying to stop them but-"
"Do not try," said a new voice, and Ezio and Poliziano both turned to see Lorenzo, pale and drawn, leaning on the doorframe to his chambers. Bandages were wrapped around his neck, and he clutched his injury. He was white as his linens, but his face was set in grave determination.
"We are Florentines," he muttered, his voice a hoarse rasp after the surgery. "I refuse to let the city that I love lower themselves to animals, acting and reacting to whatever ignites their rage. They are better than that; we are better than that. It's why we have a Gonfaloniere and a Signoria; it's why we elect our officials every two months, it's why we are Firenze. I will not let our people reduce themselves, even if," Lorenzo winced, pain threatening to overtake him, "Even if they killed my brother." He turned hard eyes to Poliziano. "Take me to the Palazzo."
"Signore!" he protested. "You are not well enough-"
"He is right, Signore," Ezio said, touching Lorenzo's shoulder. "Rallying the citizens will do little good if the effort kills you. Rest first, and when you are strong enough you can do what is necessary."
Lorenzo paused, his gaze fixing slowly on the nineteen-year-old. "You," he said softly, recognition filling his eyes. "I am in your debt," he said, sagging against the frame. The poorly dressed Poliziano led him to a chair in his cambers. "Tell me. Why did you help me?"
Ezio hesitated at first, a hundred thoughts running through his mind; but this was Lorenzo de' Medici, Il Magnifico and patron of his father's. To hide his identity would be dishonorable, and as to why...? Three bodies swinging in the gallows filled his mind.
"... You are not the only one who lost a brother to the Pazzi," he said simply, emotion filling his face. "My name is Ezio Auditore."
The man beside him stiffened, obviously recognizing the name, and Lorenzo's eyes widened, looking at the young Florentine anew. "You're Giovanni's son..." he whispered. A slow, sad smile bloomed on his face, and he leaned back in his seat, still clutching his neck. "Your father was a good man. He understood honor, loyalty."
"Sir!" the guard who had originally been giving a report said, daring to interrupt. "The Pazzi thugs are storming the Palazzo della Signoria. We can't hold them off much longer... If they get inside, they'll murder our supporters and put their own devils in power!"
Lorenzo winced, weak but struggling to his feet. "Then my survival will mean nothing," he rasped, swaying. "I have to..." But his legs gave out again, and the guard, Poliziano, the doctor, and Ezio all lifted the patron of Florence back to his bed. Lorenzo reached out and grabbed Ezio's sleeve. "Francesco de' Pazzi..." he said, breathing hard. "Help save our city, Auditore... Kill him." His eyes were cold, hard even in their pain.
"You have my word, Signore," Ezio promised, holding the Medici's hand. "Rest, knowing that Francesco is as good as dead."
Lorenzo nodded, the motion causing pain in his wound, and Ezio departed with the badly armored Poliziano. "Do you know where Francesco is now?" he asked.
Poliziano was already demanding information, three different guards coming forward to answer the question.
"Signore!" one man, a rookie with a bloody arm, said, "I saw Francesco lead a battalion around the back of the Palazzo della Signoria. I fear he may be seeking another way in."
"Bene," Ezio said, appreciating the information. "I know a way up the Palazzo, I can sneak up on him from behind."
"Take some of the guards with you."
"Forgive me, messere, but I can be more invisible if I am alone."
Poliziano frowned, before nodding his head. "Just like your father," he said, making Ezio blink. "Go," he ordered. "Before it's too late. Do what you can."
Ezio nodded and, to the surprise of the guards, opened a window and leapt to a balcony across the street, climbing up to the rooftops. The sun was starting to disappear on the horizon and Ezio used the long shadows to his advantage as he raced across the roofs of Florence, trying not to look down to the horror of the streets. Pazzi thugs and the troops they'd hired were fighting with Medici guards and citizens alike. Indeed, the citizens were probably the most brutal fighters, many shouting for vengeance that any would dare harm the patron that had made Florence so prosperous. But such brutal riots left many bodies in its wake.
That didn't stop Ezio from dropping down to take part.
Since he had learned down in the catacombs that he could assassinate from above with the same skill he used for leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he couldn't stop the desire to help those were once his fellow citizens. If ever he saw a group out numbered, or about to be ambushed, he rained down from above, knives digging into the chinks of mercenary armor and then he himself would drop, his hidden blade sinking into one or two aggressors. The citizens didn't even seem to notice. Not at first.
But as the moon rose and Ezio dove into a fray again, starting to feel winded from constantly having to climb back up to the rooftops to avoid getting pulled into every scuffle, it seemed that the people he saved would pay attention. Some merely nodded their heads. One woman forcefully grabbed Ezio into her home as he was climbing her window and forced some bread down his throat while thanking him over and over for saving Il Magnifico before shooing him back out to the chaos. A man saw Ezio digging his throwing knives out of a victim's back and wordless tossed fresh blades over.
It felt... good. After being labeled a traitor and having to flee, people acknowledging him as a hero was... pleasant. Even a touch flattering and embarrassing, but Ezio could work out those feelings later. Standing on one of the office buildings of the Signore and their assistants, he looked down, for the first time, to the piazza where his family had died. His heart dipped, sorrow weighing down, but it was easily managed and put aside as the chaos below overshadowed his grief. The Medici men were barricaded in front of the Palazzo Vecchio. Troops were marching forward, their commanders on horseback, but not getting far due to the sheer size of the mob between them. Citizens from all walks of life, be it brothels, artisans, farmers, construction workers, tailors, blacksmiths, heralds, everyone was there with a weapon of some kind to resist these foreign invaders under the Duke of Urbino's banner with the Pazzi by their sides.
Never, never, had Ezio been so proud to be a Florentine.
He called for the vision of his eagle, seeking to find Francesco de' Pazzi in this crowd of thousands. There were no traces of gold, but his ears caught a breath of something and Ezio immediately looked up, looking straight into the maddened eyes of Francesco who stood atop the ramparts of the Palazzo Vecchio.
"You, again!?" the Pazzi son growled. "Why aren't you dead? - Men! Slaughter him!"
Well that was all well and good, but is that jackass blind or what his men were down in the square and Ezio was alone on the rooftops. Indeed, Ezio had climbed this building once before, when he was still an unconditioned, inexperienced boy, to speak to his father for what would be the last time. Now he was a warrior, with over a year of training, and a sharp desire to see this bastardo dead for all the chaos he'd wrought.
Ezio ran right up to the Palazzo Vecchio and started to climb. The moon was not hidden this time, and he bore much more experience in his arms and back. It was incredibly easy to scale up to the battlements and climb further still, unlike his previous journey.
"Oh! The boy thinks himself a swordsman," Francesco taunted from above. "So you've drawn some blood! My men will make short work of you!"
Ezio angered against his will. He'd worked hard on his skills and they were not to be underestimated by this pampered dog! But even though he was angered, Ulderico's lessons were now an ingrained part of him and he just kept climbing. He reached the lower ramparts where guards were waiting for him and pulled out his sword. The fight was quick and clearly unbalanced in Ezio's favor. These were Pazzi bodyguards, who had apparently gone soft over the years. Ezio had sliced open the neck of one and then cut off the leg of another without even breaking step.
"Stop!" Francesco cried. "You're only delaying your inevitable and painful end! What do you think you're proving? That you're a loyal servant to that dog, Lorenzo? Death shall be your reward! Guards-! Guards!"
Ezio climbed to the upper battlements and stood easily on the edges, walking along them with the practiced grace of all his training.
"No one's coming..." he said coldly. "It's just us now."
Francesco also climbed to the edges of the ramparts. "Damn it! Damn you to hell!" he cursed. "Get the hell away from me!"
"There is nowhere for you to run," Ezio growled. "You've turned the citizens of Firenze into animals seeking your blood. If you drop, they'll just rip you to pieces."
The Pazzi son started to swear in earnest, glancing down at the mob and Medici guards who were easily beating back the troops. He weighed his chances carefully as Ezio continued to stalk closer and closer. Finally Francesco made a break for the door that lead back inside. Ezio leapt forward, his blade plunging into the coward's back, in almost the exact same spot as Lorenzo had been stabbed by the bishop.
"Now Firenze will judge you for what you have done," Ezio said quietly.
"It's over... It's all over..." Francesco gasped.
"...Better to be content in this life, than aspire to it in the next. Requiescat in pace." Ezio ran his hidden blade over the man's throat ending his life. Anger course through him, he felt veins pulsing in his forehead, but he remembered Mario's gut-punch, and his feelings of Vieri after his death, and he forced himself to stand and resist the temptation.
The door burst open and Medici men came out, seeking to assess the situation.
"Is that... Francesco de' Pazzi?" a lieutenant asked.
"I know just what to do with it," the captain said grimly. "Help me bring him down."
None of them noticed Ezio's white shadow ducking back over the rooftops.
The young Florentine went back to helping the crowds down below, staying out of sight and picking only those in dire need of help. The foreign troops and Pazzi supporters barely ever had a chance to glance at him before he was disappearing up the dark buildings in the shadows of moonlight. Things were clearly starting to flow into a Florentine and Medici victory.
Jacopo, however, arrived on his horse to rally his troops in the piazza. Ezio kept his sharp eyes on him once he noticed him. Lorenzo's reports that the head of the Pazzi was dead and dragged naked through the streets seems to have been exaggerated. Watching carefully from the rooftops, trying to plot a course to the elder Pazzi through the chaotic crowd below.
"Liberty! Liberty! Liberty! People and liberty!" the old Pazzi head shouted. His troops picked up the cry, morale starting to rise and the Florentines stepped back in line with the Medici guards, readying for the worst.
The chanting didn't last, however.
"Francesco...?"
Ezio's sharp ears caught the startled gasp as the citizens and Medici men both tossed Francesco's naked body over the Loggia dei Lanzi in the corner of the piazza, built by Cosimo de' Medici, Lorenzo's grandfather for German mercenary pikeman that had been converted as a large gathering place for ceremonies like swearing in Gonfaloniere or the Priore. Above Francesco's swinging body the Medici guards cheered and clapped, causing the citizens and barricaded Medici men to cheer as well, marking a clear victory for the Medici and Florence.
And as the crowd cheered and Ezio lowered himself to the crowds, Jacopo kicked his heels in his horse's sides and took off at a sharp gallop, escaping what the mob would do to him once they got their hands on him.
The Pazzi forces started to retreat; leaving the Palazzo della Signoria in Medici hands. Ezio nodded to himself, exhausted after such a long day, and headed back to the rooftops. He made his way back to the Palazzo de' Medici and found an empty guardhouse. It would be a good place to catch some sleep before checking in on Lorenzo the following morning.
Author's Notes: Whew, what to say about this chapter.
This is a Lorenzo chapter. However much he SUCKED as a Banker, he was a free-thinker, looking back to Roman and Greek classics and cultivating their thoughts and ideas with the other Humanists, and he was great for introducing patrons to budding artists like Leonardo or Michelangelo. He was called Il Magnifico for a reason, and as an established friend of Giovanni Auditore, it is not much of a stretch for Ezio to see Lorenzo as a semi-father figure, an image of home (re: Florence) and a connection to his father that he wants to cultivate. With such an important influence over Ezio, the two of us bent over backwards to make his scenes - these and later ones - to make some kind of impression on Ezio and help shape him. Lorenzo's words about rising above people's instincts pops up later in the fic (see if you can't find it!) and his dedication to the people of Florence is something that will shape Ezio much later down the road (re: Brotherhood). He's... fatherly; in a way Mario isn't (and can't) be for Ezio.
The Pazzi conspiracy itself we tried to keep historically accurate as we could. It takes place inside the Duomo instead of outside, Francesco screws up and stabs his leg, and if you pay close attention to the "rumors" that are reported to Poliziano you might realize they're true to the real history. Poliziano, fyi, isn't a guard like he's portrayed in the game, but a scholar.
Ezio's emotional fallout for this isn't really felt in this chapter, it all happens so fast he hasn't really had time to process it. He certainly feels the hatred for the Pazzi, Mr. Bowden is right in the fact that killing Frencesco de' Pazzi is almost as personal as killing Vieri, but Ezio also has his conversation with Mario in his head, and his talks with Claudia. It reads fast, but there's so much going on, as we said, that sometimes you just sort of ride the wave of the event.
Next chapter: assassin contracts, bonding with Lorenzo (more of it, any way), and another seal. See you next week.