Knives Don't Have Your Back: Chapter IV
Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood
Rated: PG13 (NC17 overall)
Word Count: 4,018 / 90,339
Knives Don't Have Your Back
† IV †
Teodor strolled through the wide corridors of Castel Sant’Angelo. Soldiers and servants scurried beside him, all more agitated than usual. Teodor supposed it had something to do with the meeting Cesare had ordered this afternoon and tried to not find the nervous atmosphere disheartening. He was already tired due to the attack the night before and the injury to his arm throbbed noticeably from the beating he’d received. The discomfort was compounded by his refusal to wear the sling, deciding to favor appearance over practicality when summoned by Cesare Borgia.
Malfatto had disapproved of this decision. When Teodor had emerged from the patient room sans his sling the doctor had paused long enough to deliver a pointed stare before returning to his autopsy of the burnt thief’s body.
At least, Teodor assumed he didn’t approve. With the mask it was difficult to tell and he had been distracted by the sight of Malfatto’s fingers buried in the empty sockets of the dead man’s face.
“The left eye was completely melted, but I recovered most of the residue,” Malfatto had said, sounding delighted.
“I have to go,” Teodor had answered, and left him to it.
Teodor supposed he could have been friendlier. He was still uneasy from that awkward moment after the fight. Absently, he rubbed his thumb across the pads of his fingers, remembering the warmth of Malfatto’s cheek.
Teodor’s arm twinged sharply, bringing him back to the moment. A hand gripped him at the elbow, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to see who had grabbed him and met the long face of Octavian de Valois.
“Bonjour, mon vieil ami,” De Valois said, tipping his head to Teodor with a kind smile. “It is good to see you.”
“I could say the same,” Teodor responded, gingerly extricating himself from the man’s hold. He gestured down the hallway. “Are you here for the meeting?”
“In a sense,” De Valois replied. “First, I need you to come with me.”
Teodor frowned. “Now? But there’s only a few minutes before-”
“Cesare won’t mind if we’re a little late,” De Valois said, once more taking Teodor by the arm and beginning to steer him in the opposite direction.
Teodor had met De Valois outside a small tavern in Genoa six years ago. At the time Teodor had been eighteen years old and hell-bent on self-destruction after fleeing his home in Torino. He had been on the wrong end of a fight with the passing French military when De Valois had recognized Teodor as the aristocratic son of a fellow French nobleman. De Valois, a distant cousin to the French monarch, had spent time with Teodor’s father at court and neatly jumped at the chance to take advantage of the situation. By recruiting one wild boy, De Valois gained the favor of Teodor’s family which could prove beneficial on both French and Italian soil.
At the time, Teodor hadn’t thought in such terms. De Valois had thrown Teodor his own weapon so he could win his fight-an épieu-and paid for Teodor’s drinks during the fallout. Indebted and finally given an outlet for his violent nature, Teodor had spent the next two years in service to De Valois before being relocated and rebranded a Borgia soldier and sent to plan sieges of his own. De Valois had trained him in strategy and combat and together they had sacked many cities, including the rumored assassin hideout, Monteriggioni.
Personally, Teodor found De Valois to be competent and sound as a leader, but he held tightly to class and culture and wouldn’t dare learn of things he felt were beneath his station. Teodor had no such reservations and considered himself a better soldier for it. If Teodor had met De Valois anywhere but in the tavern on that fateful night in Genoa, he would likely despise him.
Given their history, Teodor allowed himself to be led into a nearby room. He waited long enough for De Valois to lock the door before he spoke.
“I hope you have a good reason to jeopardize both our heads,” he said.
De Valois smiled affectionately. “I don’t answer to Cesare Borgia. But yes, I do. Do you know what was to be discussed today?”
“I heard rumors we were to march to Senigallia,” Teodor replied. “Is that true?”
De Valois nodded. “Are you familiar with the situation there?”
“As well as the men in charge of it,” Teodor replied.
The men he referenced were the generals Oliverotto da Fermo and Vitellozzo Vitelli. At the beginning of the year they had forged a plot with the Orsini brothers against Cesare, going as far as to try and bridge some sort of alliance with France. Teodor supposed this was motivated by greedy ambition but also born of the fear every man has when his talents and cunning make him a target not only for the enemies of the state, but also the state itself. Cesare had a habit of drowning nearby fires at the slightest threat of smoke.
Unluckily for those involved, the conspiracy against Cesare failed. In summer, the alliance tried to take Urbino, Camerino and Fossombre-without success. The Italian people, while fearful of Cesare, knew the harsh reality that a strong leader was better than a weak one. The towns revolted, the French armies denied them aide, and the conspirators had to admit defeat.
After their attempt to overthrow the most powerful man in all of Italia, Da Fermo and Vitelli had stupidly tried to get back into the good graces of Cesare. Teodor was of the mind that Cesare lacked good graces entirely. Still, Da Fermo and Vitelli had campaigned and captured the town of Senigallia in Cesare’s name. As far as apologies go, the gift of a coastal city that served as a strategic stronghold was a fine one. But, as most had thought, not fine enough. That was until Cesare had welcomed the conspirators back with open arms and even rewarded them with property and wealth.
Cesare’s unprecedented act of benevolence had thrown the political landscape into an uproar. Teodor still didn’t understand how the men had escaped the chopping block, let alone been rewarded for their treason.
“As far as anyone is concerned, Cesare wants to march to Senigallia to throw a celebration for Da Fermo and Vitelli,” De Valois said, watching Teodor closely.
Teodor scowled, puzzled. There wasn’t any need to march to an already conquered city unless it was to provide reinforcements. More so, there wasn’t any reason to call a meeting to discuss Cesare’s vacation plans. As far as anyone is concerned, De Valois said. Teodor blinked as understanding washed over him.
“And Cesare’s true purpose?” Teodor asked.
“He intends to execute Da Fermo and Vitelli for their treason,” De Valois answered bluntly. “Senigallia and the military presence within will be absorbed into Borgia holdings.”
“No one is going to believe Cesare Borgia is coming for a simple feast if he brings an army with him,” Teodor said, thinking of the meeting taking place down the hall full of officers and mercenary leaders. “Da Fermo and Vitelli would hole up inside Senigallia and force a siege at such a sight. There’s no way we could take the city without sustaining heavy losses on both sides.”
“Which is where you come in,” De Valois said, sounding pleased with himself. Teodor got the feeling De Valois had volunteered his services for something that might be not only difficult but likely deadly.
“Of course. One officer alone wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. I’ll just slip inside the city and take on the entire guard by myself,” Teodor said in a neutral tone.
“Don’t be dramatic,” De Valois said. “What if I told you Cesare has a way to separate Da Fermo and Vitelli from their forces without a large military presence?”
“I would say that the officers left behind would vie for control of the men and the city,” Teodor pointed out. “A battle would still be likely.”
“Very perceptive,” De Valois answered. “Now, if we were able to dispose of those leftover officers, do you think the soldiers who were left would fall in line?”
“That depends on how it’s handled,” Teodor said. He scratched his forehead, trying to think. “Shown enough force and enough gold I would say it’s possible. It would require killing every officer regardless of their loyalty. You would need to coordinate their deaths so it was simultaneous and absolute. That requires men, and more importantly you would need someone with enough power to handle the backlash.”
De Valois cocked an eyebrow at Teodor and gave him a knowing look.
“Absolutely not,” Teodor said immediately, shaking his head. “I’m not a general. I’m barely an officer anymore.”
“Which is why you’re perfect,” De Valois said. “You’re decorated and capable, Teodor, with a noble pedigree to boot. Cesare can’t send in one of his condottieri, no one would follow them. Anyone with a higher rank than yours would draw suspicion. And don’t think I’m not aware of what it is you’re up to these days. This will require a light touch and you’re the man to do it.”
Teodor was silent, working through what De Valois had said. If it worked, Cesare’s plan was brilliant. Da Fermo and Vitelli were considered tyrants. By disposing of them he would gain the love of the people and demonstrate such cunning and force that would-be adversaries would think twice before taking on anyone under the Borgia flag. Teodor would only be responsible for a small piece of the deception and he found himself surprisingly pleased for being considered. Cesare was many horrible things, but he was also a great man and thought Teodor worthy of his company.
Also, it was likely that if Teodor refused he would be killed immediately.
“What do you need me to do?” Teodor asked.
De Valois smiled. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper and handed it over to Teodor. Inside there was a list of twelve names. Apparently De Valois knew Teodor’s mind better than he let on.
“Unless you have divine power, you’re going to need some back up. If you want some of your men pulled from the campaigns, I’ll see that it’s done,” De Valois said.
Teodor could only think of one man he’d trust with this level of secrecy. “I’ve never been the type to carry favor with a particular regiment, but I do know someone who is.”
De Valois raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Captain Donato Mancini,” Teodor replied. “The men who follow him are loyal beyond imagining.”
De Valois nodded, his gaze somewhere on the ceiling as if he were lost in thought. After a moment he gave a short laugh. “An operation such as this would require so honest a man.”
The irony was not lost on Teodor. “And one who is not,” he replied with a grimace.
De Valois shook his head. “Do not think of an honest man and a duplicitous man as being opposite of one another.”
Teodor shrugged, not willing to examine the statement further. “Should I send for the captain then?”
De Valois unlocked the door before answering, using one hand to hold it open and the other to usher Teodor out of the room.
“I believe you’ll find Captain Mancini at the end of the hall,” De Valois said as they walked. “He’s been quite impressive in the campaigns, so I’m told.”
“Who else knows the true nature of Cesare’s plans?” Teodor asked. Behind the two large wooden doors at the end of the hallway he could hear the faint rumblings of a crowd. It sounded like they were cheering.
“Most of them don’t. A great deal of people, you’ll find, need only to be invited to meetings so they feel as if they are someone important. A few know Cesare’s intentions for Da Fermo and Vitelli. But besides myself, only Cesare and that rabid dog of his know of your orders.”
Teodor assumed De Valois was referring to Micheletto Corella, the frightening protector of Cesare Borgia. Micheletto was a marvel in the world of cruel and dangerous men. His penchant for murder and violence was unlike any Teodor had ever known, and Teodor kept the company of killers.
They reached the end of the hall. Teodor turned to De Valois and bowed.
“I won’t let you down, vieil ami,” he said.
Properly flattered by the gesture, De Valois puffed out his chest like a rooster. “You could never,” he said, clapping Teodor hard on the left shoulder. Teodor saw stars and held back a wince. “Now go pay your respects.”
Teodor nodded. He slipped through the wooden doors and into cacophony inside. Cesare was in the middle of the room, surrounded by his trusted officials and high-ranking soldiers, all of them trying to talk at once. A few civilians were there as well-a man with a ginger beard and round glasses stood silently by the fireplace and a brunette woman with striking features was discussing something with a large man who looked to be a mercenary given the scar on the side of his face. Some expressions on the people around him were more smug than others, which Teodor took to mean they were aware of the pending executions.
As if from nowhere, Teodor felt a hand on the side of his face and the press of lips against his cheek. He stumbled for a moment at the shock of it. With a loud smacking sound, Donato released his face and stood before him with beaming brown eyes.
“You,” Donato said, emphasizing the word by poking Teodor hard in the chest with a stout finger, “missed all the fun.”
“You’ll have to fill me in,” Teodor replied, looking over Donato’s shoulder to where Cesare stood. Someone had opened a bottle of wine and was pouring it into the glass in Cesare’s hand.
“Long live the Borgia,” toasted the dark-haired man at Cesare’s left. Micheletto.
Those with cups held them high. Donato squabbled with a nearby serving boy trying to get his hands on some wine. Teodor watched Cesare’s smile, saw it match the expression on the brunette woman’s face in the background as she opened a peculiar-looking fan.
“Long live the Borgia!” echoed the room, the words overlapping.
Cesare’s dark eyes caught Teodor’s stare and held him captive.
“Long live the Borgia,” he whispered, watching Cesare’s smile widen.
“Finally,” Donato harrumphed, pressing a wine glass into Teodor’s hand, breaking the trance. “Give me that,” Donato ordered, speaking to a young serving boy he’d grabbed by the arm. The serving boy handed over the bottle of wine he was carrying and scurried off.
“Thank you,” Teodor said as Donato filled his cup. When he held it out to toast, Donato clanked the entire bottle against the glass before taking a long swig.
“Not everyone is supposed to know, but I’ll tell you anyway,” Donato said, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially into Teodor’s ear. “We’re going to war,” he said happily.
Teodor thought about the list of names in his pocket. Across the room a man shouted a toast, first to the city of Roma and after that to the women who warmed the beds within its walls. Donato cheered heartily.
“I don’t think it’s war we’re going to,” Teodor whispered, but no one heard.
† † †
A week later, Teodor studied the map of Senigallia in front of him, particularly that of the Santa Maria delle Grazie. He marked what he thought would make good exits in case things went badly. He needed to be prepared for the worst. The church itself stood just outside the city walls, but two streets into Senigallia Teodor tried to work his way around an imaginary retaliatory attack. At least, that is what he would plan if he were in their shoes. It was the most obvious route to the docks and a ship would be the fastest route back to Roma.
The plan was simple. Cesare would invite Da Fermo and Vitelli to the Santa Maria delle Grazie under the pretense of a feast. Cesare would ride only with Micheletto and a few soldiers for protection to keep suspicion at bay. Once Da Fermo and Vitelli were separated from the camp, Teodor and Donato, along with Donato’s men, would arrive pledging promises to resupply the troops stationed there and provide reinforcements. The officers would be drawn to the camp to welcome their arrival. After the customary dinner and debriefing, Teodor planned to capture and publicly execute all twelve officers.
In theory it was a simple ambush and coup. In reality, Teodor feared it would be chaos. Should Da Fermo and Vitelli’s men revolt, should Donato and his men be unable to contain the soldiers while they cut down the officers, should they themselves be overcome, Cesare would be left facing an army.
Teodor resisted the urge to slam his head upon the desk and beat himself senseless. There were too many variables. He felt overwhelmed at the moment and needed some distraction.
“Donato,” he called, turning in his chair. The man in question was bent over a trunk on the floor, rough hands pawing through Teodor’s scattered possessions.
“Stockings, stockings...ah! There you are!” mumbled Donato. The captain had taken it upon himself to see that Teodor was packed for the road. He had been withdrawn after learning the true nature of their orders, troubled even, and the mundane task eased his mind.
After the scuffle with the thieves in Malfatto’s shop, Teodor had decided to abandon his estate for awhile. He had grown notorious for his deeds, a side effect he hadn’t anticipated, and his house had become a liability. Taken from his more secretive work by injury and infamy, Teodor had been assigned to design a military strategy to protect some sort of secret equipment Cesare had been building. When the mission in Senigallia was finished he would receive further instructions, but for now he appeared to be once more a simple soldier and had been quartered in the soldier’s barracks.
Donato huffed, his hands expertly folding a pair of Teodor’s stockings into a tiny square. He eyed Teodor disapprovingly. “For such a serious man I thought you would be more organized than this.”
Teodor raised an eyebrow. “Things have been busy.”
“Bah! It is never too busy. If I were your commanding officer, I would lash you,” Donato said, but his voice was playful as always. He bent over another trunk.
“Do you think the men will give us any trouble?” Teodor asked, changing the topic. He was referring to the troops in Senigallia. “If Da Fermo and Vitelli die do you think they would care?”
Donato unearthed some books from one trunk and moved to sit on the bed, placing the stack of volumes in his lap. “I’m not sure,” he answered distractedly, examining the books.
“Neither am I,” said Teodor. He looked over to the desk and picked up some papers from the packet of information he had been given, trying to infer something useful.
“Loyalty,” Donato said after awhile. Teodor paused and looked to him. “Cutting down Da Fermo and Vitelli might not move them, but officers are different. You know that. Officers work with their fellow soldiers more than a general or figurehead. When we take everything away...” Donato shrugged. He looked up at Teodor, expression bothered. “If a fellow soldier came and killed your men, your superiors, how would you react?”
Teodor considered this. Loyalty was not something he placed a lot of faith in. “I would not be motivated by vengeance.”
If anything, Donato looked exasperated. “But how could you trust a man who cuts down his own people? Think, Teodor, of the men you commanded. Why did they follow you?”
For the first time in awhile, Teodor thought back to that night in the stables with Cesare. He wondered what had become of his horse.
“You suggest then,” Teodor said carefully, “that this plan is misguided?”
“We will become traitorous men,” Donato said, dark eyes burning into Teodor’s. “Like those we are ordered to kill, we will become dishonest. Untrustworthy. Unable to lead.”
Teodor was silent. Donato spoke of loyalty and trust as if they were somehow entwined with ability. He had never thought of such a thing.
“Men will follow those they fear,” Teodor replied. “If I were subservient to a devious man, I would have the choice to either challenge him or follow him. Devious men are powerful because of their cunning. I would want to be on the side of such a man rather than stand against him.”
Donato’s dark look reeked of disappointment. “Devious men are powerful because they must be, or else all the hate in the world would eat them alive. A man who rules with fear will always be triumphed by a man who can rule with love. My poor Teodor, why do you not see this? What if it was your mentor, De Valois, who Cesare ordered cut down? In that packet you received, is there an order to remove me?”
“I...” Teodor stopped. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. What Donato was suggesting was close to treason, a dangerous blasphemy against the rule of Cesare Borgia. If it were another man sitting on his bed Teodor would never entertain these thoughts. But this was not another man, this was Donato, his friend. A friend who was becoming a liability.
Would I cut him down?
Teodor’s eyes flicked open and he forced a warm smile to his face.
“Donato, no one could ever order me to kill you,” he said. Inside he felt hollow, lost. “Who would pack my stockings?”
Donato’s wary look relaxed, but did not disappear entirely. When he did not speak, Teodor forced himself to his feet and went over to the man. He took the books from Donato’s lap and sat beside him on the bed. They both stared at the floor.
“You mustn’t speak of these things,” Teodor whispered. “You will get us both killed if you do not stop. And then no one will look after your men. We will carry out our orders.”
“I did not join the guard to murder my fellow soldiers,” Donato confessed. His normally passionate voice sounded weak and strange to Teodor’s ears, and for the first time Teodor realized how badly Donato was struggling.
“With this plan Cesare will win the hearts of the people. He will use Da Fermo and Vitelli’s cruelty for his own good. You have fought to bring Borgia rule to Italia for years, Donato. Do not back down now. After this you will have nothing but power and glory to look forward to. Your men will be held in high regard.”
Teodor fell silent. Donato continued staring at his boots. After a few minutes had passed Donato shook himself like a cat and he patted Teodor’s knee with a strong hand.
“Thank you, mio fratello,” Donato said. The captain stood up and moved in front of Teodor. “Enough of this talk then,” he said, the playful tone restored. He smiled at Teodor and hauled him up with one arm. “We have catching up to do! Ignore your work, we need to go a tavern now. I will find us some ladies-” Donato’s eyebrows wiggled at this and Teodor sighed inwardly, “-and then you will tell me about your time in Roma. I heard you almost died! And me, you must hear about me, because I am very important now. Let’s see, I was promoted back in...”
Donato continued rambling as he pushed Teodor towards the door, everything temporarily righted. Teodor tried his best to pay attention to the words, but deep inside a seed had been planted in his head.
Would I cut him down?
Teodor prayed he would never have to find out the answer.
† † †
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author's notes | warnings
Rated: PG13 (NC17 overall)
Word Count: 4,018 / 90,339
Knives Don't Have Your Back
† IV †
Teodor strolled through the wide corridors of Castel Sant’Angelo. Soldiers and servants scurried beside him, all more agitated than usual. Teodor supposed it had something to do with the meeting Cesare had ordered this afternoon and tried to not find the nervous atmosphere disheartening. He was already tired due to the attack the night before and the injury to his arm throbbed noticeably from the beating he’d received. The discomfort was compounded by his refusal to wear the sling, deciding to favor appearance over practicality when summoned by Cesare Borgia.
Malfatto had disapproved of this decision. When Teodor had emerged from the patient room sans his sling the doctor had paused long enough to deliver a pointed stare before returning to his autopsy of the burnt thief’s body.
At least, Teodor assumed he didn’t approve. With the mask it was difficult to tell and he had been distracted by the sight of Malfatto’s fingers buried in the empty sockets of the dead man’s face.
“The left eye was completely melted, but I recovered most of the residue,” Malfatto had said, sounding delighted.
“I have to go,” Teodor had answered, and left him to it.
Teodor supposed he could have been friendlier. He was still uneasy from that awkward moment after the fight. Absently, he rubbed his thumb across the pads of his fingers, remembering the warmth of Malfatto’s cheek.
Teodor’s arm twinged sharply, bringing him back to the moment. A hand gripped him at the elbow, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to see who had grabbed him and met the long face of Octavian de Valois.
“Bonjour, mon vieil ami,” De Valois said, tipping his head to Teodor with a kind smile. “It is good to see you.”
“I could say the same,” Teodor responded, gingerly extricating himself from the man’s hold. He gestured down the hallway. “Are you here for the meeting?”
“In a sense,” De Valois replied. “First, I need you to come with me.”
Teodor frowned. “Now? But there’s only a few minutes before-”
“Cesare won’t mind if we’re a little late,” De Valois said, once more taking Teodor by the arm and beginning to steer him in the opposite direction.
Teodor had met De Valois outside a small tavern in Genoa six years ago. At the time Teodor had been eighteen years old and hell-bent on self-destruction after fleeing his home in Torino. He had been on the wrong end of a fight with the passing French military when De Valois had recognized Teodor as the aristocratic son of a fellow French nobleman. De Valois, a distant cousin to the French monarch, had spent time with Teodor’s father at court and neatly jumped at the chance to take advantage of the situation. By recruiting one wild boy, De Valois gained the favor of Teodor’s family which could prove beneficial on both French and Italian soil.
At the time, Teodor hadn’t thought in such terms. De Valois had thrown Teodor his own weapon so he could win his fight-an épieu-and paid for Teodor’s drinks during the fallout. Indebted and finally given an outlet for his violent nature, Teodor had spent the next two years in service to De Valois before being relocated and rebranded a Borgia soldier and sent to plan sieges of his own. De Valois had trained him in strategy and combat and together they had sacked many cities, including the rumored assassin hideout, Monteriggioni.
Personally, Teodor found De Valois to be competent and sound as a leader, but he held tightly to class and culture and wouldn’t dare learn of things he felt were beneath his station. Teodor had no such reservations and considered himself a better soldier for it. If Teodor had met De Valois anywhere but in the tavern on that fateful night in Genoa, he would likely despise him.
Given their history, Teodor allowed himself to be led into a nearby room. He waited long enough for De Valois to lock the door before he spoke.
“I hope you have a good reason to jeopardize both our heads,” he said.
De Valois smiled affectionately. “I don’t answer to Cesare Borgia. But yes, I do. Do you know what was to be discussed today?”
“I heard rumors we were to march to Senigallia,” Teodor replied. “Is that true?”
De Valois nodded. “Are you familiar with the situation there?”
“As well as the men in charge of it,” Teodor replied.
The men he referenced were the generals Oliverotto da Fermo and Vitellozzo Vitelli. At the beginning of the year they had forged a plot with the Orsini brothers against Cesare, going as far as to try and bridge some sort of alliance with France. Teodor supposed this was motivated by greedy ambition but also born of the fear every man has when his talents and cunning make him a target not only for the enemies of the state, but also the state itself. Cesare had a habit of drowning nearby fires at the slightest threat of smoke.
Unluckily for those involved, the conspiracy against Cesare failed. In summer, the alliance tried to take Urbino, Camerino and Fossombre-without success. The Italian people, while fearful of Cesare, knew the harsh reality that a strong leader was better than a weak one. The towns revolted, the French armies denied them aide, and the conspirators had to admit defeat.
After their attempt to overthrow the most powerful man in all of Italia, Da Fermo and Vitelli had stupidly tried to get back into the good graces of Cesare. Teodor was of the mind that Cesare lacked good graces entirely. Still, Da Fermo and Vitelli had campaigned and captured the town of Senigallia in Cesare’s name. As far as apologies go, the gift of a coastal city that served as a strategic stronghold was a fine one. But, as most had thought, not fine enough. That was until Cesare had welcomed the conspirators back with open arms and even rewarded them with property and wealth.
Cesare’s unprecedented act of benevolence had thrown the political landscape into an uproar. Teodor still didn’t understand how the men had escaped the chopping block, let alone been rewarded for their treason.
“As far as anyone is concerned, Cesare wants to march to Senigallia to throw a celebration for Da Fermo and Vitelli,” De Valois said, watching Teodor closely.
Teodor scowled, puzzled. There wasn’t any need to march to an already conquered city unless it was to provide reinforcements. More so, there wasn’t any reason to call a meeting to discuss Cesare’s vacation plans. As far as anyone is concerned, De Valois said. Teodor blinked as understanding washed over him.
“And Cesare’s true purpose?” Teodor asked.
“He intends to execute Da Fermo and Vitelli for their treason,” De Valois answered bluntly. “Senigallia and the military presence within will be absorbed into Borgia holdings.”
“No one is going to believe Cesare Borgia is coming for a simple feast if he brings an army with him,” Teodor said, thinking of the meeting taking place down the hall full of officers and mercenary leaders. “Da Fermo and Vitelli would hole up inside Senigallia and force a siege at such a sight. There’s no way we could take the city without sustaining heavy losses on both sides.”
“Which is where you come in,” De Valois said, sounding pleased with himself. Teodor got the feeling De Valois had volunteered his services for something that might be not only difficult but likely deadly.
“Of course. One officer alone wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. I’ll just slip inside the city and take on the entire guard by myself,” Teodor said in a neutral tone.
“Don’t be dramatic,” De Valois said. “What if I told you Cesare has a way to separate Da Fermo and Vitelli from their forces without a large military presence?”
“I would say that the officers left behind would vie for control of the men and the city,” Teodor pointed out. “A battle would still be likely.”
“Very perceptive,” De Valois answered. “Now, if we were able to dispose of those leftover officers, do you think the soldiers who were left would fall in line?”
“That depends on how it’s handled,” Teodor said. He scratched his forehead, trying to think. “Shown enough force and enough gold I would say it’s possible. It would require killing every officer regardless of their loyalty. You would need to coordinate their deaths so it was simultaneous and absolute. That requires men, and more importantly you would need someone with enough power to handle the backlash.”
De Valois cocked an eyebrow at Teodor and gave him a knowing look.
“Absolutely not,” Teodor said immediately, shaking his head. “I’m not a general. I’m barely an officer anymore.”
“Which is why you’re perfect,” De Valois said. “You’re decorated and capable, Teodor, with a noble pedigree to boot. Cesare can’t send in one of his condottieri, no one would follow them. Anyone with a higher rank than yours would draw suspicion. And don’t think I’m not aware of what it is you’re up to these days. This will require a light touch and you’re the man to do it.”
Teodor was silent, working through what De Valois had said. If it worked, Cesare’s plan was brilliant. Da Fermo and Vitelli were considered tyrants. By disposing of them he would gain the love of the people and demonstrate such cunning and force that would-be adversaries would think twice before taking on anyone under the Borgia flag. Teodor would only be responsible for a small piece of the deception and he found himself surprisingly pleased for being considered. Cesare was many horrible things, but he was also a great man and thought Teodor worthy of his company.
Also, it was likely that if Teodor refused he would be killed immediately.
“What do you need me to do?” Teodor asked.
De Valois smiled. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper and handed it over to Teodor. Inside there was a list of twelve names. Apparently De Valois knew Teodor’s mind better than he let on.
“Unless you have divine power, you’re going to need some back up. If you want some of your men pulled from the campaigns, I’ll see that it’s done,” De Valois said.
Teodor could only think of one man he’d trust with this level of secrecy. “I’ve never been the type to carry favor with a particular regiment, but I do know someone who is.”
De Valois raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Captain Donato Mancini,” Teodor replied. “The men who follow him are loyal beyond imagining.”
De Valois nodded, his gaze somewhere on the ceiling as if he were lost in thought. After a moment he gave a short laugh. “An operation such as this would require so honest a man.”
The irony was not lost on Teodor. “And one who is not,” he replied with a grimace.
De Valois shook his head. “Do not think of an honest man and a duplicitous man as being opposite of one another.”
Teodor shrugged, not willing to examine the statement further. “Should I send for the captain then?”
De Valois unlocked the door before answering, using one hand to hold it open and the other to usher Teodor out of the room.
“I believe you’ll find Captain Mancini at the end of the hall,” De Valois said as they walked. “He’s been quite impressive in the campaigns, so I’m told.”
“Who else knows the true nature of Cesare’s plans?” Teodor asked. Behind the two large wooden doors at the end of the hallway he could hear the faint rumblings of a crowd. It sounded like they were cheering.
“Most of them don’t. A great deal of people, you’ll find, need only to be invited to meetings so they feel as if they are someone important. A few know Cesare’s intentions for Da Fermo and Vitelli. But besides myself, only Cesare and that rabid dog of his know of your orders.”
Teodor assumed De Valois was referring to Micheletto Corella, the frightening protector of Cesare Borgia. Micheletto was a marvel in the world of cruel and dangerous men. His penchant for murder and violence was unlike any Teodor had ever known, and Teodor kept the company of killers.
They reached the end of the hall. Teodor turned to De Valois and bowed.
“I won’t let you down, vieil ami,” he said.
Properly flattered by the gesture, De Valois puffed out his chest like a rooster. “You could never,” he said, clapping Teodor hard on the left shoulder. Teodor saw stars and held back a wince. “Now go pay your respects.”
Teodor nodded. He slipped through the wooden doors and into cacophony inside. Cesare was in the middle of the room, surrounded by his trusted officials and high-ranking soldiers, all of them trying to talk at once. A few civilians were there as well-a man with a ginger beard and round glasses stood silently by the fireplace and a brunette woman with striking features was discussing something with a large man who looked to be a mercenary given the scar on the side of his face. Some expressions on the people around him were more smug than others, which Teodor took to mean they were aware of the pending executions.
As if from nowhere, Teodor felt a hand on the side of his face and the press of lips against his cheek. He stumbled for a moment at the shock of it. With a loud smacking sound, Donato released his face and stood before him with beaming brown eyes.
“You,” Donato said, emphasizing the word by poking Teodor hard in the chest with a stout finger, “missed all the fun.”
“You’ll have to fill me in,” Teodor replied, looking over Donato’s shoulder to where Cesare stood. Someone had opened a bottle of wine and was pouring it into the glass in Cesare’s hand.
“Long live the Borgia,” toasted the dark-haired man at Cesare’s left. Micheletto.
Those with cups held them high. Donato squabbled with a nearby serving boy trying to get his hands on some wine. Teodor watched Cesare’s smile, saw it match the expression on the brunette woman’s face in the background as she opened a peculiar-looking fan.
“Long live the Borgia!” echoed the room, the words overlapping.
Cesare’s dark eyes caught Teodor’s stare and held him captive.
“Long live the Borgia,” he whispered, watching Cesare’s smile widen.
“Finally,” Donato harrumphed, pressing a wine glass into Teodor’s hand, breaking the trance. “Give me that,” Donato ordered, speaking to a young serving boy he’d grabbed by the arm. The serving boy handed over the bottle of wine he was carrying and scurried off.
“Thank you,” Teodor said as Donato filled his cup. When he held it out to toast, Donato clanked the entire bottle against the glass before taking a long swig.
“Not everyone is supposed to know, but I’ll tell you anyway,” Donato said, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially into Teodor’s ear. “We’re going to war,” he said happily.
Teodor thought about the list of names in his pocket. Across the room a man shouted a toast, first to the city of Roma and after that to the women who warmed the beds within its walls. Donato cheered heartily.
“I don’t think it’s war we’re going to,” Teodor whispered, but no one heard.
† † †
A week later, Teodor studied the map of Senigallia in front of him, particularly that of the Santa Maria delle Grazie. He marked what he thought would make good exits in case things went badly. He needed to be prepared for the worst. The church itself stood just outside the city walls, but two streets into Senigallia Teodor tried to work his way around an imaginary retaliatory attack. At least, that is what he would plan if he were in their shoes. It was the most obvious route to the docks and a ship would be the fastest route back to Roma.
The plan was simple. Cesare would invite Da Fermo and Vitelli to the Santa Maria delle Grazie under the pretense of a feast. Cesare would ride only with Micheletto and a few soldiers for protection to keep suspicion at bay. Once Da Fermo and Vitelli were separated from the camp, Teodor and Donato, along with Donato’s men, would arrive pledging promises to resupply the troops stationed there and provide reinforcements. The officers would be drawn to the camp to welcome their arrival. After the customary dinner and debriefing, Teodor planned to capture and publicly execute all twelve officers.
In theory it was a simple ambush and coup. In reality, Teodor feared it would be chaos. Should Da Fermo and Vitelli’s men revolt, should Donato and his men be unable to contain the soldiers while they cut down the officers, should they themselves be overcome, Cesare would be left facing an army.
Teodor resisted the urge to slam his head upon the desk and beat himself senseless. There were too many variables. He felt overwhelmed at the moment and needed some distraction.
“Donato,” he called, turning in his chair. The man in question was bent over a trunk on the floor, rough hands pawing through Teodor’s scattered possessions.
“Stockings, stockings...ah! There you are!” mumbled Donato. The captain had taken it upon himself to see that Teodor was packed for the road. He had been withdrawn after learning the true nature of their orders, troubled even, and the mundane task eased his mind.
After the scuffle with the thieves in Malfatto’s shop, Teodor had decided to abandon his estate for awhile. He had grown notorious for his deeds, a side effect he hadn’t anticipated, and his house had become a liability. Taken from his more secretive work by injury and infamy, Teodor had been assigned to design a military strategy to protect some sort of secret equipment Cesare had been building. When the mission in Senigallia was finished he would receive further instructions, but for now he appeared to be once more a simple soldier and had been quartered in the soldier’s barracks.
Donato huffed, his hands expertly folding a pair of Teodor’s stockings into a tiny square. He eyed Teodor disapprovingly. “For such a serious man I thought you would be more organized than this.”
Teodor raised an eyebrow. “Things have been busy.”
“Bah! It is never too busy. If I were your commanding officer, I would lash you,” Donato said, but his voice was playful as always. He bent over another trunk.
“Do you think the men will give us any trouble?” Teodor asked, changing the topic. He was referring to the troops in Senigallia. “If Da Fermo and Vitelli die do you think they would care?”
Donato unearthed some books from one trunk and moved to sit on the bed, placing the stack of volumes in his lap. “I’m not sure,” he answered distractedly, examining the books.
“Neither am I,” said Teodor. He looked over to the desk and picked up some papers from the packet of information he had been given, trying to infer something useful.
“Loyalty,” Donato said after awhile. Teodor paused and looked to him. “Cutting down Da Fermo and Vitelli might not move them, but officers are different. You know that. Officers work with their fellow soldiers more than a general or figurehead. When we take everything away...” Donato shrugged. He looked up at Teodor, expression bothered. “If a fellow soldier came and killed your men, your superiors, how would you react?”
Teodor considered this. Loyalty was not something he placed a lot of faith in. “I would not be motivated by vengeance.”
If anything, Donato looked exasperated. “But how could you trust a man who cuts down his own people? Think, Teodor, of the men you commanded. Why did they follow you?”
For the first time in awhile, Teodor thought back to that night in the stables with Cesare. He wondered what had become of his horse.
“You suggest then,” Teodor said carefully, “that this plan is misguided?”
“We will become traitorous men,” Donato said, dark eyes burning into Teodor’s. “Like those we are ordered to kill, we will become dishonest. Untrustworthy. Unable to lead.”
Teodor was silent. Donato spoke of loyalty and trust as if they were somehow entwined with ability. He had never thought of such a thing.
“Men will follow those they fear,” Teodor replied. “If I were subservient to a devious man, I would have the choice to either challenge him or follow him. Devious men are powerful because of their cunning. I would want to be on the side of such a man rather than stand against him.”
Donato’s dark look reeked of disappointment. “Devious men are powerful because they must be, or else all the hate in the world would eat them alive. A man who rules with fear will always be triumphed by a man who can rule with love. My poor Teodor, why do you not see this? What if it was your mentor, De Valois, who Cesare ordered cut down? In that packet you received, is there an order to remove me?”
“I...” Teodor stopped. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. What Donato was suggesting was close to treason, a dangerous blasphemy against the rule of Cesare Borgia. If it were another man sitting on his bed Teodor would never entertain these thoughts. But this was not another man, this was Donato, his friend. A friend who was becoming a liability.
Would I cut him down?
Teodor’s eyes flicked open and he forced a warm smile to his face.
“Donato, no one could ever order me to kill you,” he said. Inside he felt hollow, lost. “Who would pack my stockings?”
Donato’s wary look relaxed, but did not disappear entirely. When he did not speak, Teodor forced himself to his feet and went over to the man. He took the books from Donato’s lap and sat beside him on the bed. They both stared at the floor.
“You mustn’t speak of these things,” Teodor whispered. “You will get us both killed if you do not stop. And then no one will look after your men. We will carry out our orders.”
“I did not join the guard to murder my fellow soldiers,” Donato confessed. His normally passionate voice sounded weak and strange to Teodor’s ears, and for the first time Teodor realized how badly Donato was struggling.
“With this plan Cesare will win the hearts of the people. He will use Da Fermo and Vitelli’s cruelty for his own good. You have fought to bring Borgia rule to Italia for years, Donato. Do not back down now. After this you will have nothing but power and glory to look forward to. Your men will be held in high regard.”
Teodor fell silent. Donato continued staring at his boots. After a few minutes had passed Donato shook himself like a cat and he patted Teodor’s knee with a strong hand.
“Thank you, mio fratello,” Donato said. The captain stood up and moved in front of Teodor. “Enough of this talk then,” he said, the playful tone restored. He smiled at Teodor and hauled him up with one arm. “We have catching up to do! Ignore your work, we need to go a tavern now. I will find us some ladies-” Donato’s eyebrows wiggled at this and Teodor sighed inwardly, “-and then you will tell me about your time in Roma. I heard you almost died! And me, you must hear about me, because I am very important now. Let’s see, I was promoted back in...”
Donato continued rambling as he pushed Teodor towards the door, everything temporarily righted. Teodor tried his best to pay attention to the words, but deep inside a seed had been planted in his head.
Would I cut him down?
Teodor prayed he would never have to find out the answer.
† † †
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