Screams. Everyone was screaming and running around, throwing their arms above their heads to brace for any debris that came flying at them. Cannons were being shot at the walls surrounding the town and the stones came crumbling down. Our own men manned our defenses, which also happened to be cannons, at the top of the walls, fighting back with all they had. Cesare Borgia had led his men into Monteriggioni for a surprise attack. People were shoving me aside and at every push, I nearly found myself flat on my arse on the ground. I kept my balance, though, and repeatedly called out, "PapĂ ! Where are you?" My only answer was the shouts of civilians as they fled to safety. I shoved my way through the crowd, the opposite direction everyone else was heading.
Some called me crazy, others cursed at me for getting in their way. I had to find my father. He was the only family I had left. I could hear the marching of soldiers just outside the walls. Borgia's army was getting closer. I continued making my way through the crowd, looking desperately for the familiar, happy face of my father. Several times I found myself overwhelmed by the crowd and ended up rolling in the dirt until I regained my footing and continued my search.
There.
Several feet away a figure lay on the ground, his back to me. I could tell it was my father by the familiar brown boots and black trousers with patched holes in the back of his knees. He had used a lighter tone of fabric than the actual color his pants were so he stuck out like a sore thumb. I surged forward, a sudden burst of energy overtaking me. I skidded to a stop and knelt behind his limp form. I prayed silently to whoever would listen as I turned him over. I tuned out all the terrified shouting and the stomping of thousands of people as they ran for cover. My heartbeat quickened and I could hear a ringing in my ears.
I gasped, tears immediately springing to my eyes. I clenched my fist and covered my mouth to keep from screaming. My father's eyes were open and vacant, staring up at the heavens, eyes glazed over with fear in his last moments. A small stream of blood trickled down the side of his open mouth. One of his hands lay on top of his chest and I lifted it up, noticing the blood on his palm and the deep scarlet stain marring his otherwise white shirt.
I closed his eyes and, with tears streaming silently down my face, I whispered, "Addio, padre. (Goodbye, father.)" By then most of the town's people had left, only a few stragglers left behind to catch up with the rest.
Suddenly I was being lifted off my feet and was thrown onto someone's shoulder. I thrashed my legs and beat my fists against the stranger's back, "Lasciami andare, stronzo! (Let me go, asshole!)"
"Ah, be still, I'm trying to rescue you!" His low, husky voice startled me. I could hear the hiss of a sword being drawn and soon after, somebody grunted in defeat, falling to their death.
The Borgia's men had successfully infiltrated Monteriggioni, his soldiers cutting down anyone who got in their way. I looked around at the dead bodies littering the streets, carelessly strewn aside, laying in pools of blood, never to be seen by their families again. I was overcome with a deep sense of sorrow. I had no family anymore. I was alone.
The stranger continued through the streets, hacking down men as he went. I bounced uncomfortably against his backside, the smell of sweat, dirt and blood filling my nostrils.
"Where are we going?" I turned my head, trying to get a good look at him.
He simply grunted, ignoring my question. A few moments later I was being set down in front of a double set of stair cases leading up to what I knew to be the Auditore villa. My brows furrowed in confusion, "What are we doing here?" I finally got a good look at my supposed savior. His face was square, with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown and were clouded with worry. His mouth was set in a tight line, no doubt indicating his annoyance that I was holding him up, a scar cutting over the left side. He was tall, at least a head taller than I was. His long, dark hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck with a red ribbon, the same color as the blood spattering his shirt, which was partly untucked from his trousers.
He grabbed my hand and sighed, dragging me up the stairs, his black boots thudding loudly against the marble staircase, "There's a tunnel underneath my family's villa. You'll be safe there."
Family? So that must mean...
"Are you the rumored Ezio Auditore?" I eyed his back skeptically. I'd never actually seen an Auditore before, and I'd always imagined someone much more extravagant. I definitely never envisioned this dirty ruffian, killing men left and right. All I really knew about him was that he was popular with the women. A real charmer.
"Si." His reply was gruff and I could tell he wanted me to keep quiet so he could focus on leading me through the courtyard and around back. I didn't pursue the matter further and instead tried focusing on keeping up with his brisk pace, nearly tripping as he led me inside his home, through a narrow hallway and into a large room lined with book cases, one of which was pushed aside to reveal a tunnel.
He led me down several sets of stairs, leading further underground, which opened up into an even larger room decorated with statues of robed figures, towering above me, nearly reaching the ceiling above. A group of people stood around one of those statues, huddled together, conversing amongst themselves.
One of them glanced over at Ezio at his arrival and cried out with relief, "Oh, Ezio! Sono contento che tu sei al sicuro. (I'm glad you're safe.)"
"Claudia!" He called to her and opened his arms as she ran to him, wrapping himself around her in a tight embrace, "Get everyone to safety, I'm going to finish this."
She nodded and walked back over to the group of people. I glanced up at him and tugged on his sleeve as he turned to leave, hating how it made me appear like a child, "I'm going too."
He started to object but I cut him off, "I don't know these people and, although I barely even know you, I want to come with you. I owe you my life, I suppose."
He huffed, but didn't say anything further, starting to walk back out the way we'd come.
I took that as an unspoken 'yes' and followed him outside. He saddled up a horse and hoisted himself up onto the beast, looking down at me expectantly, "Well?"
I rolled my eyes and helped myself up, putting my foot into the stirrup and heaving myself onto the saddle, wrapping my arms around his waist hesitantly.
Sensing my reluctance, Ezio chuckled, "Don't worry, I don't bite." I could hear the smirk in his voice, "Unless you like that."
I scoffed and turned my head, trying to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. Men, I swear.
"I never caught your name?" He slapped the reins against the horse's neck, urging it into a canter.
"Blanca. Blanca Romano." I had to raise my voice so I wouldn't be drowned out by the heavy stomping of the horse's hooves. Its solid body swayed confidently beneath us, compact muscles contracting beneath my calves as it moved along.
"Ah, you hail from Rome?"
My surname indicated my place of birth.
I nodded, "Si." The wind whipped my hair around my face and I had to push the black strands away frequently as they got caught in my eyelashes and the corners of my mouth.
I could feel his body slumping in the saddle, sliding to the left. I noticed his grip on the reins slackening and I cried out as he fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Ah! Mio dio! (My God!)" I jumped off the horse and glanced at his right shoulder. There was a considerable amout of blood seeping through the fabric and I ripped it aside to reveal the gaping wound in his tanned flesh, "Doctor! I have to find a doctor."
His sleeping face contorted in pain and he suddenly shot up. I stood on my feet, relieved he was finally awake. The woman tending to him tried to push him back down on the bed, "You're hurt. Take it easy." She cooed, her voice soft and calming.
"Where am I?" He glanced down at his naked torso and the bandaging wrapped around his shoulder.
"Rome." I stated before she could answer, "You're in Rome."
His eyes stared at me questioningly before the kind woman answered, "A man by the name of Machiavelli brought you and her," She gestured at me with a flourish of her hand, "to my home."
"She agreed to help us." I interjected, finishing for her. She smiled at me and I sat back down, sudden exhaustion taking over. I hadn't slept in a while, I realized. I still didn't want to believe that my father was dead, but I had to face the harsh reality. He was gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back.
I looked up to find Ezio scratching at the slight beard on his chin, eyes narrowed in concentration, "Alright." He heaved himself up and pulled on his shirt, "Where is my pack? The one I had strapped to my horse?"
"Your horse ran away. The man who brought you also brought fresh clothes for you to change into." She left the room to get them.
"Where are you going?" I looked up at him through bleary eyes, blinking to keep them open. I was so tired.
He glanced down at me, "I have some things to attend to. Why don't you go get some rest?" The woman returned with the pack and he pulled out a robe that I noticed was similar to the ones the statues were wearing at the underground tunnel in Ezio's villa. He shrugged them on and patted me on the head, "Although it's a shame I can't see you off to bed myself." He added with a sly grin and mischevious wink.
I nodded, "Bene. (Good.) I'm worn out." I ignored his flirtations and followed the older woman into a guest bedroom.
I didn't see Ezio for a while after that. The woman who had so kindly helped us offered to let me stay at her home for the time being. I politely declined. We'd already imposed too much on them. Instead, she gave me a small amount of coin so I could purchase a room for the night at a nearby inn. I thanked her immensly for her help before following her directions to the inn.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was in knots, sticking out at odd angles. I patted it down in a futile attempt to tame it with no luck. My face was smeared with dirt and I smelled like sweat and horse. Not a good combination. My eyes had bags underneath them and I stared at the hazel orbs, framed with thick lashes. I tried splashing water on my face to try and appear more awake than I looked. That didn't really help.
After I bathed and dried myself off, I put my shirt and pants back on, trying to ignore the stench. Although I was clean, my clothes were still filthy. I rolled up the sleeves of the white button-up and tucked the hem into my breeches. Finally appearing decent enough for public exposure, I slipped my boots on and headed outside.
I was determined to find Ezio.
It took my all day and I got lost several times. I hadn't been in Rome since I was a little girl and so much had changed. Not only the people, but the buildings. Everything was so much bigger and busier than I'd remembered. It wasn't until nightfall that I finally spotted him, hood drawn up, talking to another hooded, mysterious man in brown. When the other man departed, I strode calmly up to Ezio from behind and tapped on his shoulder.
He whirled around, "Merda! (Shit!) What are you doing here?"
Brow raised, I smacked him on the arm, "What, did you think you could just ditch me?"
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut, "No, nothing like that." He opened his eyes and looked down at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I couldn't see his eyes, they were masked in shadow, but I didn't doubt they were alight with excitement, "Although I much rather enjoy the beautiful women that accompany me naked..." He left the statement unfinished, hanging in the air to tease me.
I glanced in the direction the other man had wandered, deciding to change the subject, "Who was that?"
He followed my gaze, although there was clearly no one there, he knew who I was referring to, "La Volpe." He stated simply.
I looked wonderingly up at him, "What did he want?"
I could tell he was holding back his frustration, "You sure do ask a lot." He said as he began dragging me through the streets, an apparent destination on his mind unknown to me, "He wants me to spy one someone for him. Machiavelli is meeting with a Borgia captain and Volpe believes he's a traitor. He doesn't trust him and I need to reassure him so he'll rejoin our..." He seemed to pause, searching for the right term, "cause." He finished.
"Who is this Machiavelli character that I'm hearing so much about?" I tried looking up into his eyes, shrouded in the darkness created by his hood.
"An ally."
I simply nodded, not wanting to irritate him further with my inquiries. I briefly wondered what line of work Ezio was involved in as I followed him through dark alleyways and isolated, abandoned streets, devoid of people. He came to an abrupt stop and leaned around the next bend in the road, sticking to the shadows. I decided to stay back out of the way and let him do whatever it is he needed to do.
I could hear him cursing under his breath and he suddenly grabbed my wrist, dragging me with him, "The guards are being attacked. I have to help that mercenary." He seemed to be speaking to himself, but he spoke loud enough for me to hear.
He let go of my hand to unsheathe his sword when we came into view, "Hey! Over here!" He called threateningly to the Borgia's men, drawing their attention away from the bleeding mercenary they were pummeling. They spat on the ground, snarled at Ezio, and started whacking at him with their weapons. Ezio easily parried their strikes, then spun on his heel to retaliate, driving the point of his sword into their soft flesh. He killed one right after the other.
I was amazed at how easily he could kill, how naturally it came to him. He looked back at me while fighting off the last guard, sword raised to deflect an overhead strike, "Hello? Could you be so kind as to help the poor, bleeding man?"
Coming to my senses, I glared at his harsh tone before hurrying over to the man dressed in pale green, hunched over, nursing the injury on his left arm. Blood soaked through the material of his shirt and stained his entire hand. I helped him to his feet and he nodded his thanks, grimacing in pain.
"What is your name?" I asked just as Ezio finished off the last man and started in our direction.
His breathing was ragged, "Claudio." He managed between gasps.
"Well, Claudio," Ezio smiled, flashing his brilliant smile, "We shall accompany you to safety."
"Bless you, kind sir."
I'm using Google Translate for the Italian so I apologize if there are any incorrect phrases.
