Shao Jun stood in the road, her pack on her back. Staring into the distance, she was ready to depart. She seemed lost in thought, and only turned when Ezio approached from the villa. His breathing was still labored and heavy.
He came up to her. “It is long way home, no?”
“But there is much to see along the way. Dashi, xiexie nin -Thank you, Mentor.” She bowed slightly.
Ezio was carrying something. A small, ancient box. He held it out to her. “Here. This may be of use one day.”
Jun took it and turned it in her hands. Then she began to open it, but Ezio stopped her.
“No,” he said. “Only if you lose your way.”
She nodded and packed it away. Ezio squinted past Jun, peering up the road. He saw the banners of approaching soldiers.
“You should go,” he said.
Jun followed his gaze, nodded, and set off, toward the vineyards that grew on the other side of the road. Ezio watched her as she made her way quickly over the brow of a nearby hill.
The soldiers rode up soon afterward, and Ezio greeted them. When he looked in Jun’s direction once more, she had disappeared.
A few weeks later, the harvest done, and Marcello’s ninth birthday behind them, he was back in his den, trying to write again. He had made good progress this time. He stared at the last blank sheet in front of him, then dipped his quill and scribbled a few words, concentrating hard. He read them back, and smiled. Then he dropped his quill as a shooting pain in his chest caught him off guard.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he said, collecting himself and replacing the quill in its stand by the inkwell.
Sofia entered the room.
“Just taking the kids down to Fiesole. We’ll be back just after dark.”
“Good.”
“Market day tomorrow. Are you coming with us?”
“Yes.”
“Sure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
She closed the door behind her. Ezio sat brooding for a moment, then, satisfied, began gathering the papers on his desk, stacking them neatly, and tying a ribbon round them.
NINETY-ONE
The next day was fine and fresh. They had stayed in Florence for lunch, and Sofia was bent on making just a few more purchases before the journey home. Ezio, walking down the street a few paces behind his wife and children, suddenly winced as a fit of coughing took him. He leaned against a wall for support.
In a moment, Sofia was by his side.
“You should have stayed at home.”
He smiled at her. “I am home.”
“Sit down, here.” She indicated a nearby bench. “Wait for us. We’ll be right over there. Only take a minute or two.”
He nodded, watching her rejoin the children and wander off a little farther down the street. He made himself comfortable, letting the pain subside.
He watched the people walking to and fro, going about their daily business. He felt pleased and enjoyed watching them. He breathed in the smells of the market as it broke up around him. He listened to the sound the traders made.
“I love it here,” he said to himself. Home. Home at last.
His reverie was interrupted by the peevish voice of a young Italian who plumped himself down on the bench near him. The young man was talking, apparently, to himself. He didn’t look at Ezio.
“ Al diavolo! I hate this damn city. I wish I were in Rome! I hear the women there are… mmm… like ripe Sangiovese on the vine, you know? Not like here. Firenze! ” He spat on the ground.
Ezio looked at him. “I don’t think Florence is your problem,” he remarked, pained at what the young man had said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Ezio was about to reply, but the pain seized him again, and he winced, and started to gasp. The young man turned to him. “Steady, old man.”
He grabbed Ezio’s wrist as Ezio caught his breath. Looking down at the hand that held him, Ezio thought the grip was uncommonly strong, and there was something strange, almost familiar, about the man’s expression. But he was probably imagining it all. He shook his head to clear it.
The young man looked at Ezio closely, and smiled. Ezio returned the look.
“Get some rest, eh?” the young man said.
He rose to his feet and walked away. Ezio nodded in belated agreement, watching him go. Then he leaned back, seeking Sofia in the thinning crowd. And saw her at a stall, buying vegetables. And there beside her were Flavia and Marcello, baiting each other, playing together.
He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. His breathing calmed. The young man was right. He should get some rest…
Sofia was packing the vegetables she’d bought into a basket when something cold crept into her heart. She looked up, then around, back to where Ezio sat. There was something about the way he was sitting.
Confused, not wanting to admit what she feared to herself, she put a hand to her mouth and hurried across to him, leaving the children playing where they were.
As she got closer, she slowed her pace, looking at him. She sat down by his side, taking his hand. And then she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his hair.
One or two people looked in their direction, then one or two more, with concern; but otherwise, life in the street went on.
NINETY-TWO
Much later that day, back home, and having sent Machiavelli away, Sofia took herself into the den. The children were in bed. She didn’t think what had happened had sunk in for them, yet.
In the den, the fire had gone out. She lit a candle. She walked to the desk and picked up the neatly stacked sheaf of papers, tied with a ribbon, that lay on it. And she began to read: When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it; I had time, but I did not know it; and I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. And now, in the twilight of my life, this understanding has passed into contentment. Love, liberty, and time… once so much at my disposal, are the fuels that drive me forward; and love, most especially, my dearest, for you, our children, our brothers and sisters… and for the vast and wonderful world that gave us life and keeps us guessing. With endless affection, my Sofia, I am forever yours.
Ezio Auditore
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LIST OF CHARACTERS
Adad: stonemason
Al Mualim: Mentor of the Brotherhood
Al-Sayf, Malik: Assassin comrade of Altair
Al-Sayf, Tazim: Assassin and Malik’s son
Al-Scarab: pirate captain
Auditore, Claudia: Ezio’s sister
Auditore, Ezio: Master Assassin
Auditore, Federico: Ezio’s elder brother
Auditore, Giovanni: Ezio’s father
Auditore, Mario: Ezio’s uncle
Auditore, Petruccio: Ezio’s younger brother
Azize: Assassin in Constantinople
Baglioni, Pantasilea: Bartolomeo d’Alviano’s wife
Barleti, Tarik: Janissary captain
Bekir: Larnaka shipping agent
Borgia, Cesare: Rodrigo’s son, 1480-1519
Borgia, Rodrigo: Pope Alexander VI, 1451-1503
Buonarroti, Michelangelo: artist, sculptor, etc., 1475-1564
Cemaclass="underline" Assassin in Altair’s time d’Alviano, Bartolomeo: Italian captain and Assassin, aka Barto,
1455-1515
da Vinci, Leonardo: artist, scientist, sculptor, etc., 1452-1519 de Sable, Robert: Templar Grand Master
Dilara: Ottoman spy, Tarik’s agent
Dogan: Assassin in Constantinople
Dovizi, Duccio: Claudia’s ex-boyfriend
Durer, Meister Albrecht: painter, 1471-1528
Erasmus, Desiderius: leader of the Northern European Assassins
Evraniki: Assassin in Constantinople
Ferdinand II, King: king of Spain, 1479-1516