‘Not such a tartaruga after all,’ he said, as he came up and clapped Ezio on the shoulder. ‘You went past me like greased lightning.’
‘I didn’t even know that I had,’ said Ezio briefly, trying to catch his breath.
‘Well, you won’t beat me up to the top of the tower,’ retorted Federico, pushing Ezio to the side, and he started to clamber up the squat tower which the city fathers were thinking of replacing with something of a more modern design. This time Federico made it first, and even had to give a hand up to his wounded brother, who was beginning to feel that bed would be no bad thing. They were both out of breath, and stood while they recovered to look out over their city, serene and silent in the oyster-light of dawn.
‘It is a good life we lead, brother,’ said Federico with uncharacteristic solemnity.
‘The best,’ Ezio agreed. ‘And may it never change.’
They both paused – neither wishing to break the perfection of the moment – but after a while Federico quietly spoke. ‘May it never change us either, fratellino. Come, we must get back. There is the roof of our palazzo. Pray God Father hasn’t stayed up all night, or we really will be for it. Let’s go.’
He made for the edge of the tower in order to climb back down to the roof, but stopped when he saw that Ezio had remained where he was. ‘What is it?’
‘Wait a minute.’
‘What are you looking at?’ asked Federico, rejoining him. He followed Ezio’s gaze and then his face broke out into a grin. ‘You sly devil! You’re not thinking of going there now, are you? Let the poor girl sleep!’
‘No – I think it’s time Cristina woke up.’
Ezio had met Cristina Calfucci only a short time before, but already they seemed inseparable, despite the fact that their parents still deemed them too young to form a serious alliance. Ezio disagreed, but Cristina was only seventeen and her parents expected Ezio to rein in his wild habits before they would even begin to look more kindly on him. Of course, this only served to make him more impetuous.
Federico and he had been lounging in the main market after buying some trinkets for their sister’s Saint’s Day, watching the pretty girls of the town with their accompagnatrice as they flitted from stall to stall, examining lace here, ribbons and bolts of silk there. But one girl had stood out from her companions, more beautiful and graceful than anyone Ezio had ever seen before. Ezio would never forget that day, the day on which he had first set eyes on her.
‘Oh,’ he had gasped involuntarily. ‘Look! She’s so beautiful.’
‘Well,’ said his ever-practical brother. ‘Why don’t you go over and say hello?’
‘What?’ Ezio was shocked. ‘And after I’ve said hello – what then?’
‘Well, you could try talking to her. What you’ve bought, what she’s bought – it doesn’t matter. You see, little brother, most men are so afraid of beautiful girls that anyone who actually plucks up the courage to have a chat stands at an immediate advantage. What? You think they don’t want to be noticed, they don’t want to enjoy a little conversation with a man? Of course they do! Anyway, you’re not bad-looking, and you are an Auditore. So go for it – and I’ll distract the chaperone. Come to think of it, she’s not so bad-looking herself.’
Ezio remembered how, left alone with Cristina, rooted to the spot, at a loss for words, drinking in the beauty of her dark eyes, her long, soft auburn hair, her tip-tilted nose…
She stared at him. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘What d’you mean?’ he blurted out.
‘Why are you just standing there?’
‘Oh… erhm… because I wanted to ask you something.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘What’s your name?’
She rolled her eyes. Damn, he thought, she’s heard it all before. ‘Not one you’ll ever need to make use of,’ she said. And off she went. Ezio stared after her for a moment, then set off after her.
‘Wait!’ he said, catching up, more breathless than if he’d run a mile. ‘I wasn’t ready. I was planning on being really charming. And suave! And witty! Won’t you give me a second chance?’
She looked back at him without breaking her stride, but she did give him the faintest trace of a smile. Ezio had been in despair, but Federico had been watching and called to him softly: ‘Don’t give up now! I saw her smile at you! She’ll remember you.’
Taking heart, Ezio had followed her – discreetly, taking care she wouldn’t notice. Three or four times he had to dart behind a market stall, or, after she had left the square, duck into a doorway, but he’d managed to tail her pretty successfully right up to the door of her family mansion, where a man he recognized had blocked her path. Ezio had drawn back.
Cristina looked at the man angrily. ‘I’ve told you before, Vieri, I’m not interested in you. Now, let me pass.’
Ezio, concealed, drew in a breath. Vieri de’ Pazzi! Of course!
‘But signorina, I am interested. Very interested indeed,’ said Vieri.
‘Then join the queue.’
She tried to get past him, but he moved in front of her. ‘I don’t think so, amore mio. I’ve decided that I’m tired of waiting for you to open your legs of your own volition.’ And he seized her roughly by the arm, drawing her close, putting his other arm round her as she struggled to get free.
‘I’m not sure you’re getting the message,’ said Ezio suddenly, stepping forward and looking Vieri in the eye.
‘Ah, the little Auditore whelp. Cane rognoso! What the hell do you have to do with this? To the devil with you.’
‘And buon’ giorno to you too, Vieri. I’m so sorry to intrude, but I have the distinct impression that you’re spoiling this young lady’s day.’
‘Oh, you do, do you? Excuse me, my dearest, while I kick the stuffing out of this parvenu.’ With that, Vieri had thrust Cristina aside and lunged at Ezio with his right fist. Ezio parried easily and stepped aside, tripping Vieri as the momentum of his attack carried him forward, sending him sprawling in the dust.
‘Had enough, friend?’ said Ezio mockingly. But Vieri was on his feet in an instant, and came towards him in a rage, fists flailing. He’d got one hard blow in to the side of Ezio’s jaw, but Ezio warded off a left hook and got two of his own in, one to the stomach and, as Vieri bent double, another to his jaw. Ezio had turned to Cristina to check that she was all right. Winded, Vieri backed off, but his hand flew to his dagger. Cristina saw the movement and gave an involuntary cry of alarm as Vieri brought the dagger plunging down towards Ezio’s back, but, warned by the cry, Ezio had turned in the nick of time and seized Vieri firmly by the wrist, wrenching the dagger away from him. It fell to the ground. The two young men stood face to face, breathing hard.