Having reached Tiber Island they crossed the river by a rickety bridge that trembled beneath their horses’ hooves, then they doubled back, turning north to ride up the main street leading out of the squalid little town that had once been the capital of the civilized world. They did not stop until they were in the depths of the countryside, and had assured themselves they were out of reach of their pursuers.
Near the settlement of Settebagni, in the shade of a massive elm tree by the side of the dusty road that ran parallel to the river, they reined their horses in and took time to draw breath.
‘That was too close, Uncle.’
The older man shrugged and smiled a little painfully. From a saddlebag Mario produced a leather flagon of rough red wine and proffered it to his nephew.
‘Here,’ he said, slowly catching his breath. ‘Good for you.’
Ezio drank, then grimaced. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘It’s the best they can do at The Sleeping Fox,’ said Mario, grinning broadly. ‘But once we get to Monteriggioni you’ll fare better.’
Ezio smiled and passed the flask back to his uncle, but then his features became troubled.
‘What is it?’ asked Mario in gentler tones.
Slowly, Ezio produced the Apple from the pouch in which he’d stowed it. ‘This. What am I to do with it?’
Mario looked grave. ‘It is a heavy responsibility. But it is one you must shoulder alone.’
‘How can I?’
‘What does your heart tell you?’
‘My heart tells me to be rid of it. But my brain …’
‘It was vouchsafed you … by whatever powers you encountered in the vault,’ said Mario solemnly. ‘They would not have given it back to mortals if there was not a purpose devised for it.’
‘It is too dangerous. If it fell into the wrong hands again …’ Ezio looked ominously at the slothful river flowing nearby. Mario watched him expectantly.
Ezio hefted the Apple in his gloved right hand. But still he hesitated. He knew he couldn’t throw such a great treasure away, and his uncle’s words had swayed him. Surely Minerva would not have allowed him to take back the Apple without reason.