Assassin's Creed: Renaissance (31 page)

‘You’ll be up against him,’ Teodora was saying. ‘Think you can take him on?’

‘If I have to.’

Finally, when all the competitors’ names had been taken (Ezio gave a false one), a tall man in a bright red cloak took his place on the rostrum. He was the Master of Ceremonies.

There were four games in all. The contestants would vie with one another in each, and at the end an overall winner would be decided on by a panel of judges. Luckily for Ezio, many of the competitors, in the spirit of Carnival, elected to keep their masks on.

The first game was a foot-race, which Ezio won easily, to the intense chagrin of Silvio and Dante. The second, more complicated, involved a tactical battle of wills in which the contestants had to vie with each other as they tried to capture from one another emblematic flags which each had been provided with.

In this game, too, Ezio was pronounced the winner, but he felt uneasy as he saw the expressions on the faces of Dante and Silvio.

‘The third contest,’ announced the Master of Ceremonies, ‘combines elements of the first two and adds new ones of its own. This time, you will have to use speed and skill, but also charisma and charm!’ He spread his arms wide, to indicate a number of fashionably dressed women about the square, who giggled prettily as he did so. ‘A number of our ladies have volunteered to help us with this one,’ continued the Master of Ceremonies. ‘Some are here in the square. Others are walking in the streets around. You may even find some in gondolas. Now, you will recognize these ladies by the ribbons they wear in their hair. Your job, honoured competitors, is to collect as many ribbons as you can by the time my hour-glass runs out. We’ll ring the church bell when your time is up, but I think I can safely say that however fortune favours you, this will be the most enjoyable event of the day! The man who returns with the most ribbons will be the winner, and one step closer to gaining the Golden Mask. But remember, if there is no outright victor in these games, the judges will decide which lucky one of you will attend the Doge’s party! And now – Begin!’

The time passed, as the Master of Ceremonies had promised, quickly and enjoyably. The bell of San Polo rang out at a sign from him as the last sands trickled from the upper to the lower chamber of the glass, and the competitors took up their positions back in the square, handing their ribbons over to the adjudicators, some smiling, others blushing. Only Dante remained stony-faced, though his face grew red with anger when the count had been made and it was – once again – Ezio’s arm that the Master of Ceremonies held high.

‘Well, my mysterious young man, you are in luck today,’ the Master of Ceremonies said. ‘Let’s hope your good fortune doesn’t desert you at the last hurdle.’ He turned to address the crowd in general, while the rostrum was cleared and ropes set up round it to convert it into a boxing ring. ‘The last contest, ladies and gentlemen, is a complete contrast. It concerns itself only with brute strength. The competitors will fight each other, until all but the last two are eliminated. The last two will fight until one of them is knocked out. And then comes the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The
overall
winner of the Golden Mask will be announced, but be careful how you place your bets – there’s plenty of time for upsets and surprises yet!’

It was in this last game that Dante excelled, but Ezio, using different skills and light on his feet, managed to make the final pair, confronting the giant bodyguard. The man swung at Ezio with fists like piledrivers, but Ezio was agile enough to ensure that no seriously heavy punches landed and he was able to get some meaningful left uppercuts and right hooks in himself.

There were no breaks between rounds in this last bout, and after a time Ezio could see that Dante was tiring. But he also, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that Silvio Barbarigo was speaking urgently to the Master of Ceremonies and the panel of judges who had gathered at a table under a canopy not far from the ring. He thought he saw a fat leather purse change hands, which the Master of Ceremonies quickly pocketed, but he couldn’t be sure, as he had to return his attention to his opponent, who, angry now, was coming at him with flailing arms. Ezio ducked and landed two quick jabs to Dante’s chin and body, and at last the big man went over. Ezio stood over him and Dante glowered up. ‘This isn’t over yet,’ he growled, but he was finding it hard to get up.

Ezio looked over at the Master of Ceremonies, lifting his arm in appeal, but the man’s face was stony. ‘Are we sure all the competitors have been eliminated?’ the Master of Ceremonies called. ‘
All
of them? We cannot announce a winner until we are
sure
!’

There was a murmur in the crowd as two grim-looking men detached themselves from it and clambered into the ring. Ezio looked towards the judges but they had averted their gaze. The men were closing in on him and Ezio now saw that each had a stubby little knife, almost invisible, clutched in his paw.

‘So that’s how it’s going to be, eh?’ he said to them. ‘No holds barred, then.’

He danced out of the way as the fallen Dante tried to pull him off balance by grabbing his ankles, then leapt in the air to kick one of his new opponents in the face. The man spat out teeth and reeled away. Ezio came down and stamped hard on the second man’s left foot, crushing the instep. Then he punched him viciously in the stomach and, as he doubled up, brought his knee into hard contact with the man’s descending chin. Howling with pain, the man went over. He had bitten through his tongue, and blood gushed through his lips.

Without looking back, Ezio vaulted out of the ring and confronted the Master of Ceremonies and the sheepish-looking judges. The crowd behind him cheered.

‘I think we have a winner,’ Ezio told the Master of Ceremonies. The man exchanged glances with the judges and with Silvio Barbarigo, who was standing close by. The Master of Ceremonies climbed into the ring, avoiding the blood as best he could, and addressed the crowd.

‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he announced after clearing his throat a little nervously. ‘I think you’ll all agree that we’ve enjoyed a hard and fairly fought battle today.’

The crowd cheered.

‘And on such an occasion it’s hard to choose a real winner -‘

The crowd looked puzzled. Ezio exchanged glances with Teodora, who was standing on its fringe.

‘It’s been a hard job for the judges and myself,’ continued the Master of Ceremonies, sweating slightly and mopping his brow, but a winner there has to be, and, on aggregate, mind, we have picked one.’ Here he stooped and with difficulty raised Dante to a sitting position. ‘Ladies and gentlemen – I give you the winner of the Golden Mask – Signore Dante Moro!’

The crowd hissed and booed, yelling their disapproval, and the Master of Ceremonies, together with the judges, had to beat a hasty retreat as the bystanders began to pelt them with any rubbish they could lay their hands on. Ezio hurried across to Teodora and the two of them watched as Silvio, a twisted smile on his livid face, helped Dante off the rostrum and bundled him away down a side-alley.

Back at Teodora’s ‘convent’, Ezio struggled to contain himself as Teodora herself and Antonio watched him with concern.

‘I saw Silvio bribe the Master of Ceremonies,’ said Teodora. ‘And no doubt he lined the judges’ pockets too. There was nothing I could do.’

Antonio laughed derisively and Ezio cast him an irritable look.

‘It’s easy to see why Silvio was so determined to get their man to win the Golden Mask,’ Teodora went on. ‘They’re still on the alert and they don’t want to take any chances with Doge Marco.’ She looked at Ezio. ‘They won’t rest until you are dead.’

‘Then they’ll have a lot of sleepless nights.’

‘We must think. The party’s tomorrow.’

‘I’ll find a way of shadowing Dante to the party,’ decided Ezio. ‘I’ll get the mask off him somehow, and -‘

‘How?’ Antonio wanted to know. ‘By killing the poor
stronzo
?’

Ezio turned on him angrily. ‘Do you have a better idea? You know what’s at stake!’

Antonio held up his hands, deprecatingly. ‘Look, Ezio – if you kill him, they’ll cancel the party, and Marco will retreat back into the palazzo. We’ll have wasted our time – again! No, the thing to do is steal the mask, quietly.’

‘My girls can help,’ put in Teodora. ‘Plenty of them will be going to the party themselves – as entertainers! They can distract Dante while you acquire the mask. And once you’re there, have no fear. I will be there too.’

Ezio nodded reluctantly. He didn’t like being told what to do, but in this instance he knew that Antonio and Teodora were right. ‘
Va bene
,’ he said.

The following day, as the sun was setting, Ezio made sure he was in place near where Dante would pass by on the way to the party. Several of Teodora’s girls loitered nearby. At last the big man appeared. He’d gone to some lengths with his clothes, which were expensive but flashy. The Golden Mask hung at his belt. As soon as they saw him the girls cooed and waved, moving up to either side of him, two of them linking arms with him, making sure the mask swung behind him, and walking him to the large, cordoned-off area by the Molo where the party was taking place, and had, indeed, already begun. Timing his action precisely, Ezio chose the last possible minute to cut the mask free of Dante’s belt. He snatched it away and ducked ahead of Dante, to appear with it before the guardsmen who were controlling entrance to the party. Seeing it, they let Ezio in, but when, a few moments later, Dante appeared, and reached behind him to put the mask on, he found that it had gone. The girls who’d escorted him had melted into the crowd and put on their own masks, so he would not recognize them.

Dante was still arguing with the guards at the gate, who had their inflexible orders, as Ezio made his way through the revellers to make contact with Teodora. She greeted him warmly. ‘You made it! Congratulations! Now, listen. Marco remains very cautious indeed. He’s staying on his boat, the Ducal Bucintoro, on the water just off the Molo. You won’t be able to get all that close to him, but you should find the best vantage-point for your attack.’ She turned to summon three or four of her courtesans. ‘These girls will help cover your movements as you make your way through the party.’

Ezio set off, but as the girls, radiant in shimmering silver and red satins and silks, moved through the sea of guests, his attention was taken by a tall, dignified man in his mid-sixties, with clear, intelligent eyes and a white spade beard, who was talking to a Venetian noble of similar age. Both wore small masks which covered little of the face, and Ezio recognized the first of them as Agostino Barbarigo, the younger brother of Marco. Agostino might have a lot to do with the fate of Venice if anything untoward should happen to his brother, and Ezio thought it expedient to manoeuvre himself into a position from which he could overhear the man’s conversation.

As Ezio edged up, Agostino was laughing gently. ‘Honestly, my brother embarrasses himself with this display.’

‘You have no right to speak of him that way,’ replied the noble. ‘He is the Doge!’

‘Yes, yes. He is the Doge,’ replied Agostino, stroking his beard.

‘This is his Party. His
Carnevale
, and he’ll spend his money as he sees fit.’

‘He’s the Doge in name only,’ Agostino said rather more sharply. ‘And it’s Venetian money that he’s spending, not his own.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There are larger things at stake, and you know it.’

‘Marco was the man chosen to lead. It’s true your father may have thought that he’d never amount to much, and so transferred his political ambitions to you, but that hardly matters now, does it, given how things stand?’

‘I never
wanted
to be Doge -‘

‘Then I congratulate you on your success,’ said the nobleman, coldly.

‘Look,’ said Agostino, keeping his temper. ‘Power is more than wealth. Does my brother truly believe he was chosen for any other reason than his riches?’

‘He was chosen for his wisdom and his leadership!’

They were interrupted by the beginning of the firework display. Agostino watched it for a moment, then said, ‘And this is what he does with such wisdom? Offer a light show? He hides away in the Ducal Palace while the city comes apart at the seams, and then thinks some expensive explosions will make people forget all their problems.’

The noble made a dismissive gesture. ‘The people love the spectacle. It’s human nature. You’ll see…’

But at that moment Ezio spotted the burly figure of Dante, in the company of a posse of guards, barging through the party, doubtless looking for him. He continued to make his way to an unexposed spot from where he might gain access to the Doge if ever he left the Bucintoro, moored a few yards out from the quay.

There was a fanfare and for now the fireworks ceased. The people fell silent, then broke into applause as Marco came to the portside of his state barge to address them, and a page introduced him: ‘
Signore e signori!
I present to you the beloved Doge of
Venezia
!’

Marco began his address: ‘
Benvenuti!
Welcome, my friends, to the grandest social event of the season! In peace or at war, in times of prosperity or paucity,
Venezia
will always have
Carnevale
!...’

As the Doge continued to speak, Teodora rejoined Ezio.

‘It’s too far,’ Ezio told her. ‘And he’s not going to leave the boat. So I’ll have to swim out there.
Merda
!’

‘I wouldn’t try it,’ said Teodora in hushed tones. ‘You’d be spotted right away.’

‘Then I’ll have to fight my way out th—’

‘Wait!’

The Doge was continuing. ‘Tonight, we celebrate what makes us great. How brightly our lights shine over the world!’ He spread his arms, and there was another short firework display. The crowd cheered and roared their approval.

‘That’s it!’ said Teodora. ‘Use your
pistola
! The one you stopped the murderer with in my bordello. Use the sound of the fireworks when they start again to cover the noise of your gunshot. Time it right, and you’ll walk out of here unnoticed.’