First of the Order
Quattro: The Vatican
It just had to be there somewhere or her grandmother would be so disappointed that she'd lost it. Lucretia knew how valuable the crucifix was to her family, the precious beads had been used for centuries of prayers. Lucretia poked through more piles of garbage and refuse, slowly working her way towards the subway stop. She was running out of space, and if she'd dropped it on the subway… But Lucretia refused to see that possibility as she crept down the subway stairs, trying to see in the dim. Suddenly she saw, by the tracks, a flash of red and blue. It was there, fallen through the space where the trains met the platform, the sting of beads caught on a jag of cement. She rushed forward, suddenly oblivious of anything else in the station, and reached down for her precious object…only to feel another hand. Her eyes followed the hand up to an arm, and then to a face. The face of a blonde man with striking blue eyes. "Is this yours?" he asked, in a slightly British accent.
"His holiness wishes to see me? Surely you mean my father?" Antonio questioned the messenger who stood at the door of the workshop.
"No, he explicitly asked for Antonio Rambaldi." The messenger insisted. "You are to come to the east door in St. Peter's at 4 this afternoon, alone."
Antonio calculated quickly. His father was due home from a trip to his home, Mt. Sebacio today, but even if he had left early this morning, he would not be in Rome until nightfall. He would have none of his father's advice in speaking to the Holy Father. Still, what was he to do?
"I will be there." He told the messenger, shutting the door, and sitting down to think. Everything seemed to be falling apart. His father had fallen in some sort of melancholy, while working on his project all the more frantically. Yet, he'd taken the time to visit home, almost as if he would never be able to see it again. Antonio thought Alexander was part of the problem, but he also knew that Rambaldi's dreams had been particularly frightening of late, but how did it all fit together?
A few hours later, Antonio found himself knocking at the requested east door, still questioning, but determined to do and say as his father would have him. The door opened and a servant appeared
"You are Antonio Rambaldi?"
"Yes."
"Follow me." They wove through a maze of corridors and side rooms. After a minute or two Antonio lost all sense of direction, although at one point it seemed they were underground. Finally they opened a door to a wing of richly carpeted rooms and fine furnishings. One of the doors was opened, and Antonio walked into a richly decorated room. Antonio had seen many fine homes, even built several, but this opulence shocked even him. The fine grain of the furniture, the rich carpets and heavy drapes. The artwork of several masters hung on the walls, including Rambaldi's portrait of Alexander before he had attained the Papacy. The Pope was truly a rich man.
"Antonio." The voice startled him from his reverie and Antonio whirled to see the Pope.
"My Father," he knelt and place the customary kiss on the Holy Father's hand. As he rose, he saw Cesare Borgia follow his father into the room. The three were quickly seated and Alexander began the conversation.
"So, your father returns to Rome this evening?"
"Yes, I expect him before nightfall."
"Where was he visiting?" Alexander asked again
"Mt. Sebacio." Antonio was slightly puzzled. Surely Alexander hadn't called him to learn of his father's welfare?
"Ah, yes. His childhood home. I hope the visit restores him. He has been working much too busily these past months"
"Yes, he has." Antonio agreed. "I try to get him to slow down, but he can be very stubborn."
"Yes I know." Alexander said, a strange smile forming quickly on his face. "I'm sure you are of great use to him."
"I try. But it's very hard to get him to sit down and rest recently."
"But what can it be that consumed him so much?" the question was nonchalant, perfectly casual. But when Antonio glanced over to Cesare who had sat silently through the interview, the devouring look in his eyes gave them away.
"I do not know."
"Do you?"
"No."
"Well, perhaps you do not know why he is so concerned, but I think you know what his plan is? What is life's work is? Surely you are not ignorant of that?
"I-I know parts of it, but I do not know the entire thing." Antonio stammered slightly.
"But you know how to read his writings, you know the code. You could find out, could you not?" Alexander persisted.
"I-I suppose. My father will tell me when I need to know."
"But perhaps you could read it and find out yourself, without him telling it to you. Perhaps you could show us some of the wonderful things you've made for him?"
Suddenly Antonio understood what they wanted. His father's work, for themselves. Just the pieces he knew would be of incredible value. "If you want to see my father's work, then you must ask him!" Antonio expected to start an argument, but Alexander simply nodded placidly.
"You know the Cardinal Sangritori is most concerned about your father's activities." He changed the subject. "If the inquisition finds that your father believes science alone can let us know God? There is no room for faith there." Antonio offered no reply.
"My favor keeps the Cardinal from acting, but if I were to withdraw it…" the Pope let the sentence hang. "You understand the consequences."
"If my father wishes to keep his plans secret, it is not my place to tell them" Antonio said defiantly.
"Then you will both face the consequences." Alexander said. "Cesare, will you show Antonio the way out?"
Antonio walked stiffly behind the other man, silently thinking of how he would break this news to his father. When they reached the door, Cesare reached for the knob, then hesitated and threw the slighter man against the door.
"We know your father has found the secret of the greatest power. Surely you see that it could be used to make Italy the greatest land in the world. It must be placed in the hands of the church.
"Why? So you can rule the world. My father's device will be used by God, but not through the hands of the Borgias." Antonio retorted and pulled away, yanking the door open and stepping out into the dark streets. He walked home in silence, now aware of the danger that pressed on him. No wonder his father had been troubled. If even the smallest of his devices fell into the hands of the enemy… Antonio pushed the thought from his head and walked faster.
He was too late. The small workshop was surrounded by a contingent of his friends, and something about their stance told Antonio that they had been defeated.
"Lorenzo, what is happened?" He called to their leader, one of his closer friends.
"The Guard of the Inquisition was waiting as he entered the city. He claimed the protection of the Pope, but they denied it. You must go to them, Antonio. They will listen to you when you say you are under the protection of his Holiness.
"His Holiness' protection is no longer ours to claim, Lorenzo. The Borgias too wish to have my father's designs for their own power. We have no allies but ourselves."
"They took your father to the inquisition prison. He said for you to come to him as soon as you could."
"Then I will go. You are guarding the workshop?"
"We thought it best to protect Rambaldi's designs from those to whish to use them to their own gain."
"Yes, that is wise. Have the guard here rotated and call all of the order to meet here at 7 tonight."
"It will be done."
* * *"Father, I am so sorry." Antonio said as soon as the guard that led him to the cell departed.
"For what, my son, this is not of your doing."
"No, the Pope told me this would be the consequence."
"Ahh…I see." Rambaldi nodded knowingly. "He wished you to betray me? To find the secret of what I am doing and let him have it for his own use?"
"I refused." Antonio said proudly.
"Of course you did." Rambaldi said. "I have given you everything, and even that which the Pope himself cannot grant." Antonio nodded, remembering the bitter liquid Rambaldi had given him and Giovanni Donato to drink
"But in the end, the Pope will win. Or at least seem to." He added as an afterthought. "For even the liquid will not stop the Cardinal's Inquisition."
"The inquisition cannot stop all of us. The order is being assembled. We will fight!" Antonio protested. Rambaldi could not simply give in.
"And fight you will." His father said calmly. "But my part in this is finished. My son, do not waste yourself in fighting over my life when my work is so much more valuable."
"I cannot accept that you must die. We will find another way."
"No my son, the trial is over. The execution is tomorrow. My part in this is over and you must see it though for me. Come to the execution tomorrow morning disguised as a simple craftsman among the crowds. Then you will understand why I must die so all can be completed.
"You will not die tomorrow, Father. I will see to it." He rose and headed for the exit
"Antonio!"
"Don't worry father, I will get you out of here." He said, before turning and walking out.
"Oh, my son, must you always choose the hard way?"
* * *"You are certain they will take this road?" Antonio asked for the third time, still reluctant to commit the success his plan to the word of an uneducated farmer his father had brought from Mount Sebacio a few years ago of the order.
"Yes," Gino insisted. "My friend Nico was a guard there once. He assured me it was so. The Via San Gregorio is the fastest way to the execution ground that does not use heavily guarded streets."
"Alright then. Draco, Flippio, Enrique, Gino, Leone, and Luigi will wait with me along the road. We will get my father from them, and smuggle him into Luigi's brother's house. You are certain know one knows you are a follower?" He turned to the swarthy young man.
"No one." He replied surely, "And my brother is an ardent supporter of the pope, though he is away on business. His is the last house they will search."
"Then we will wait in the basement of the house until midday or whenever the search is called off. Lorenzo, your group will assemble the caravan. Be sure to pack the entire workshop carefully. The slightest scrap of paper may be invaluable to my father."
"We will leave nothing behind." Lorenzo assured him. "And no one will know what we are doing."
"Good, we will meet you when we can get away from the house and all head for Florence. They will not be so likely as to turn a simple heretic over to the Pope."
* * *Dawn found Antonio and his small group of men waiting anxiously in an alleyway along the Via San Gregorio. Rambaldi and his guards should have been on their way to the execution grounds by then. It was only a matter of time.
"They are coming!" Luigi's voice sounded over the crude voice transmitter Antonio had brought from the workshop
"You are sure?" Antonio spoke into the simple-looking box.
"Yes, there are seven men, and an old prisoner is among them."
"They are wearing the Cardinal's red?"
"Yes, they will pass you in about 3 minutes."
"Assume position." Antonio gave the last order, loud enough for both Leone and the men near him to hear.
Within a few minutes they could see the escort themselves, coming around the bend in the road. Antonio threw a small device the size of a potato in front of the guards' path. Immediately a flash went out, and the street was filled with smoke. The guards, startled, looked for the source, and some panicked and ran back. Luigi's group stepped up from their position, letting the deserters flee and watching for the prisoner. Antonio led his own group to block the forward path, and rushed into the group of panicked guards to find his father. But the old man clad in ragged clothes and trembling in the middle of the guards was not Milo Rambaldi.
Antonio grabbed the nearest guard and threw him against the wall of a nearby building. "Where is he?"
"Where is who?" the bewildered man asked
"Where is my father, Milo Rambaldi?"
"He's dead."
"You lie!"
"He's dead by now." The guard insisted. "He was taken to the Vatican last night…maybe thought the Pope would pardon him. They moved the execution up to dawn. Cesare Borgia ordered us to take this one to the execution grounds at dawn. Probably to clean up the mess."
"No!!!!" Antonio threw the guard against the wall once more and fled in the direction of the execution grounds. But the sight of smoke wafting above the peaceful Italian homes stopped him in his tracks before the guards around the amphitheater could even raise their spears. He was too late. His father was dead. The rescue had failed, faked into believing a decoy. Then he caught a glimpse of a man walking to speak with the guards. Cesare Borgia, who turned a triumphant face in his direction, eyes meeting eyes. This was war.