Post by crmsndragonwngs on Feb 18, 2013 1:32:10 GMT -5
Emiliana Santi had always thought of herself as a strong-willed woman. At least, she had until Cesare Borgia had ripped through her countryside like the angry red bull that flew on his banner.
It had been peaceful that day. Her husband had been out in the fields with their eldest son, sowing the seeds of next season's wheat crop. Emiliana had been hanging out sheets and clothes fresh from the wash, singing hymns to little Julia who sat in the flowerbeds, laughing heartily as only infants can. The weather had been gloriously mild, and thunder rolled on the horizon, promising rain at the day's end. Julia sneezed, sending a shower of flower petals all around her, and Emiliana laughed. Upon hearing her mother, the tiny child began to laugh as well.
And then came the thundering of hooves.
At first, Emiliana had mistaken the steady beating for the thunder on the horizon. But as they drew near, she realized with a kind of sick certainty that they were the heavy hoof beats of armored horses, burdened by armored soldiers. She snatched her baby up into her arms and called for her husband and her boy, hoping the soldiers would pass them by if they thought no one was home. But Giovanni Santi and their boy Angelo were already making their way to the street, curious no doubt as to why the Papal troops were storming through the Roman countryside.
Emiliana went into their small home and peered out one of the front windows, careful to keep her baby, as well as herself, out of sight. She saw the Papal troops, armed with their axes and spears, riding armor-clad horses. At their head was Cesare Borgia, the very captain of this considerable guard and the son of Pope Alexander IV, a wretched man. Oh, and what a sight he was! Handsome Cesare Borgia in full battle-dress astride a magnificent white stallion. The red bull flew above his troop, a banner that signified the Borgia family no matter where it flew.
Giovanni stopped at the side of the road, holding an arm out to halt Angelo. He rung his hands with a cloth, brushing the soil off of his fingers. Many other townsfolk stopped as well, to gawk at Cesare and his men, no doubt. The young captain stopped when he saw Emiliana's husband and son.
"What is in your field, peasant?" He asked, his voice deep and commanding.
"Wheat. But I am no peasant, Capitano Borgia." Giovanni replied, a proud expression touching his face. "I am a farmer."
"You are no peasant, and yet you work your own fields." Cesare said with a laugh, spreading his arms wide to encourage laughter from his soldiers. "If you are no peasant, then where are your servants?"
"We are all servants, signore." Giovanni replied, nodding solemnly.
"Oh? And how is that?" Cesare asked, and Emiliana could tell that the young captain was mocking her husband. She opened the front door and walked outside, baby Julia still in her arms, fear forgotten. She intended to give Captain Cesare Borgia a piece of her mind.
"We are all servants to il nostro Dio. You, being the son of our Holy Father, should know this." Giovanni said, his voice still patient and even. Cesare laughed, low and dark, and circled Giovanni.
"If we are all servants, signore, then how is it some men are greater than others?" He growled.
"No man is greater than another in the eyes of God." Giovanni replied. Young Angelo shied to his father's side. Something was amiss. The shift in Cesare's intent was nearly tangible.
"So you say I am no greater than you? That my father is no greater than you?" Cesare snarled, pulling a knife from his belt. "You should be locked away for such talk. But I think I will spare the Pope such trouble."
"Giovanni!" Emiliana screamed, scaring the baby in her arms to tears. Cesare drove the blade deep into her husband's side. Giovanni Santi gasped and coughed up blood into his mouth. The captain of the Papal guard smiled.
"Kill the boy." Cesare said, turning his gaze to Emiliana and her baby. "Bongiorno, madonna."
"Bastardo! I'll kill you!" Emiliana snarled, taking a step back. He advanced on her, grinning like a shark.
"And what is this little one's name?" The young captain asked, gazing at little Julia.
"Go to hell." Emiliana snapped. Cesare looked at her, then turned and looked at his men.
"Why do I not hear screaming?" He demanded. The soldiers looked at him, a conflicted look in each of their eyes. "Kill. Him."
"No!" Emiliana screamed as one of the Papal guards slid a knife across young Angelo's throat. Cesare gave a feral smile, then turned back to Emiliana, who had sunk to the ground, weeping.
"I will take the child, signora, as penance for your husband's insolence." The wicked man before her said, reaching for her baby.
"Stay away from her, bastardo!" She screamed, looking about her wildly. "Why are you all just standing there?! Aiuto!" She demanded of her neighbors. They looked at her with a kind of sadness in their eyes that displayed sympathy, but no more. They were not foolish. They did not want Cesare to turn his feral gaze on them and their families.
Cesare Borgia ripped little Julia from Emiliana's arms and more or less tossed her to one of the officers standing close by.
"Kill it as well." He ordered, then turned and clamped iron fingers around Emiliana's arm, hauling her to her feet. "And as a bonus," he growled, moving so close Emiliana could smell his fowl breath, "I will have this fine woman."
---
He had taken everything from her. Her husband. Her children. Her dignity. And as she brought her husband's blade down onto the shoulder of the guard that had told her to find somewhere else to whore as she'd walked away from a nearby tailor's shop, that is what she thought of. All that she had lost. All that had been taken from her.
Several more guards descended upon her, blades singing through the air as they narrowly missed fatally wounding her, and she knew that she would die this day. She was not afraid of death. Not in the least. Death meant release from a world that had turned on her. Death meant release from all the memories that assaulted her every morning as she woke up.
But then an angel dropped from the heavens, slashing a sword through Emiliana's enemies. White wings flared out around him as he spun and countered. The flash of his armor in the sun made a halo of light around him, and she thought he was perhaps the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Within seconds, the guards had fallen and blood stained the ground. The angel sheathed his sword and turned to her, holding out his hand. Immediately, Emiliana fell to her knees.
"The liberation of Roma has begun." His deep voice drifted around her, bearing a certain ring of rebellion that made Emiliana look up. The angel had a hood pulled low over his head. His golden eyes were sharp as an eagle's, and a scar split otherwise perfect lips. Then she looked at his extended hand. So this was the man all of Roma whispered about. Perhaps not an angel, but a savior nonetheless. Emiliana looked up at him once more, her mind made up. She grasped his forearm and stood.
"I will join you, Assassino. A foe of the Borgia is certainly a friend of mine." She said, and her words were met with a sad and knowing smile. He released her arm and nodded, a silent command.
She'd heard the Assassins had made Isola Tiberina their home in Roma, so she went there, new life flaring in her heart.
Cesare Borgia would pay dearly for all he had taken from her.
