Caesar never knew, even in martial arts, that Julio. The Medici were also such a formidable enemy - his impression of Giulio was almost always based on his gentle smile and kind personality, compared to Borgia's ferocity and aggressiveness, Giulio never seemed to have an argument or fight with anyone, except for the time against Luigi—perhaps this was why Lucrecia liked him, and Caesar always had some contempt for him.

Even if Giulio had brought him out unscathed from tens of thousands of enemies, or for his outstanding achievements in two battles, and with the admiration of General Gonzalo, Caesar had always attributed the former to Giulio's unexpected stratagem, the latter to the musket and the careless knight of the Edict—and to the defeat at Brest, he was only to the sudden appearance of Madame Kindness, who never thought Giulio was a brave man, or rather, he thought Giulio was weak and unskilled.

At this time, their swords clashed, like two ferocious beasts roaring and biting together, Caesar had been standing on the steps above, which was in his favor, but he could not resist Giulio's step-by-step approach, Borgia kept retreating, and the lack of visibility from behind made him uneasy, he feared that he would fall, and Giulio's blade would take the opportunity to take his life, but he had no time to change positions - he let out an angry scream, and the Templars tried to rush at him, but they were stopped by the Assasin Assassins.

"Let the children take care of their own affairs!" Ezio shouted that they had no mercy for the Templars, that they were willing to be in the same league as Borgia, and that they even had the blood of their colleagues on their hands—they had nothing to honor compared to the twelve Templars who had gone to Rhodes.

And at that moment, Caesar's worst fear happened, his heel fell on the edge of the steps, his body lost his balance, and he fell—at the same time, he threw out the dagger, which slashed Giulio's cheek, but it did not slow him down, and the narrow silver light shot down like thunder in Caesar's field of vision, and he raised his longsword and blocked in a reluctant position—when the two longswords of similar style almost collided with each other, Caesar suddenly abandoned his weapon, and he lay backwards and rolled, while hooking Giulio with his toes, he drew a one-handed axe from behind him and slashed at Giulio's leg, Giulio's sword retreated, blocking the attack in time, although he had to pay the price of breaking his weapon.

Giulio switched his dagger to his right hand, and they confronted each other on the steps again, only this time it was clearly Caesar who had the upper hand, his one-handed axe was longer and heavier than the dagger, but Giulio's movements were as agile as a swooping falcon, and his steps were as light as a breeze, and any fleeting gap would be a harbinger of his attack—and after a few moments, Borgia became impatient, and he seemed to lose control of his body once more.

Julio turned sideways and gave way to the blade of the one-handed axe, it was less than a finger away from him, and the wind made him feel pain, but he also got a great opportunity, he opened his palm, flicked out the Hidden Blade, and stabbed under Caesar's unprotected ribs, but the touch it gave back told him that the Hidden Blade was not piercing into a human body, but something that was perhaps finer and harder than chain mail, and the sharp Hidden Blade was locked - Caesar jerked his arm back, holding and twisting Julio's wrist tightly, He was thrown to the ground, followed by a follow-up kick that kicked the dagger out of Giulio's hand.

"Assasin's old trick, huh?" He commented contemptuously, swinging a deadly axe.

But something he couldn't have imagined happened, Giulio raised his left hand, and the two rings stuck in the base of his fingers tightened the bowstring with a strange gesture, and as his fingers relaxed again, a short crossbow bolt struck Caesar. Borgia's throat.

The axe fell from the air, and Julio turned sideways, easily dodging the final blow.

Caesar. Borgia fell to the ground, and he drew his crossbow arrows, but to no avail, precious air and blood were pouring out of the wound, but for a moment he would not die.

Giulio drew a rapier that felt familiar to Caesar and knelt beside him: "Farewell, Caesar. He said.

When the rapier pierced Caesar's chest, he remembered that in the beginning, Giulio had also stabbed the rapier into Luigi. Borgia's body.

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October 1503 was Lucleia's second year in Ferrara, and unlike what people might think, she seldom appeared in public like a real widow, often dressed in white or dark clothes, and rarely danced or hunted, and the only time she was seen throwing the Kinducat, probably only when she gave alms to the poor or offered Mass, which made people surprised and a little sorry, and even the Marquise of Mantua, who was most hostile to him at first, had to say, She's not a very bad person.

The news of the death of Pope Alexander VI came from Rome when Lucleia. Borgia did not seem surprised, she was sad, but as if she had expected it, she changed into black clothes, took off all her jewels, put on a veil, and knelt in front of the icon all day long, praying for her father.

The Duke of Ferrara did not regret the death of Alexander VI, and he was even somewhat relieved, after all, the Duke of Romagna was really a great threat to Ferrara. But what he was worried about now was his son's feelings for Luclayia, and he never imagined that his unruly son would really fall in love with a woman whose surname was Borgia.

"You're really going to ask Julio. Did the Medici send out an invitation? Duke Ferrara asked worriedly.

"Why not, for him the title of cardinal is only a matter of time," said his eldest son frivolously, "and, it is said that he is also very good at artillery, and I am about to talk carefully with such a man." ”

"Is it you, or your wife?" The Duke of Ferrara said solemnly, "You know, legend has it that he and Lucria once had a secret marriage. ”

"According to people, the statues of saints in St. Peter's Square have all had an affair with Lucrea." The second Alfonso said indifferently: "Lucrecia just wants to see him." ”

"I hope it's exactly what you say." The Duke of Ferrara sighed, "But I have a question for you, Alfonso, are you and Lucrecia not really in the same room?" ”

"Not yet."

"Very well," said the Duke of Ferrara, "you have no heir, and if she bears you a child, things will be very troublesome." ”

"Yes, father." Alfonso said in her heart, but if she wanted to, we would have one or more sons.

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Giulio thought he wouldn't see Lucrea again.

They met in a small hall in the Palazzo Dukes of Ferrara, where Lucretia sat at a small gilded table with honey-stained peaches and wine.

"Luclayia," Giulio whispered, "Caesar is dead. ”

Lucrecia didn't speak, but her tears fell like droplets on a porcelain statue.

"I see." She said.

After a while, she picked up the silver kettle and poured a glass of wine for Julio: "Drink some bars." ”

Julio shook his head.

"Then eat some honey-stained peaches."

Julio shook his head.

"I have heard," said Lucresia, "that if the Romans go to the house of their enemies, they will not drink a sip of water or eat a mouthful, because they do not want to receive even a little favor from the enemy, Giulio, are we enemies?" ”

She didn't get an answer, so she asked, "May I kiss your hand?" ”

"Nope." Julio tenderly refused.

"Can I kiss you on the lips, then?"

"Nope."

"You're such a heartless person."

"I'm leaving, Lucrea."

Giulio said, standing up, turning and walking out of the small hall.

Alfonso, the eldest son of the Duke of Ferrara, passed by Giulio, and their shadows were still intertwining, and Giulio heard his exclamations.

Alfonso ran over and picked up Lucrecia who had fallen to the ground, his wife's lips black and bleeding from her ears and mouth.

She seemed to be trying to say something, but Alfonso could barely catch a single word.

Except for ...... "Swallow".

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……

The poor little swallow felt colder and colder day by day, but he still refused to leave the prince, for he loved him too much. He only pecked a little bread crumb in front of the bakery when the baker was not paying attention, and flapped his wings to keep warm.

But in the end he knew he was going to die. He had only enough strength to fly to the prince's shoulder again. "Good-bye, dear prince!" He muttered, "Will you let me kiss your hand?" ”

"Little swallow, I am glad that you are going to Egypt," said the prince, "and you have lived here too long, but you should kiss me on the lips, for I love you." ”

"I'm not going to Egypt now," said the swallow. "I'm going to the house of the dead. I've heard that death is the brother who sleeps, isn't it? ”

He kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, then fell at the prince's feet and died.

……

The Happy Prince, Wilde.