One of the scenes in today's chapter may be slightly disturbing to some readers. Brace yourself! I know it may seemed rushed, but I doubt I'll have time to post one next week, so enjoy!
After Chiara was left alone, all she could do was think. The first thing she wondered was why fate had been so cruel to her. Everything in her life was going perfectly fine and then with the blink of an eye, every bad thing which could happen, happened all at once. Monteriggioni was destroyed, she found out her sister was a Templar, her mother died, she became a courtesan and almost got raped; not just once but twice.
An unpleasantly cold draught flew around the cells and Chiara had no choice but to sit in one corner, hugging her knees in regret. She regretted leaving her mother in the first place. She regretted escaping her home in Milan. She regretted being stubborn enough to get involved with the assassin's affairs, which ultimately led to her imprisonment. The only good which came out of this was that her capture didn't disrupt the mission as the Banker had been killed. Ezio would have nothing to worry about because she was out of the way. Now he and Machiavelli could resume his work of destroying Cesare's papal funds completely. At least, that's what Chiara had thought.
Somewhere on the other side of the river Tiber, in the Assassin's Hideout, Machiavelli and Ezio were knee deep in confusion.
The first was pacing back and forth frantically whilst the latter sat at a table, elbow propped up with his head in his hands.
"We need to find her!"
Ezio sighed in exasperation, clearly annoyed, "I know. You have only said that, oh about a hundred times."
"But what do we do?"
"If you were able to keep quiet for one minute Niccolo, it would give me a chance to think peacefully."
"I am sorry," said Machiavelli, occasionally stopping to sit on a chair, and then standing back up again to continue walking. The hideout here was given to them by Fabio Orsini, Bartolomeo's cousin. It was decorated beautifully over the years with red and gold coverings emblazoned with the Assassin insignia, and shelves as high as the ceiling holding stacks of books. The only thing lacking in this place was the number of assassins. Ezio desperately needed to recruit more young men and women.
"Let us think about this calmly. I will inform Claudia to make sure her courtesan's keep their eyes and ears open for any information on Chiara's whereabouts. I trust you to do the same with La Volpe and his thieves."
Machiavelli narrowed his eagle eyes, "Do I have to? Are you even aware of how much he hates me?"
"Let this be a chance to amend things with him then."
"Fine," concluded Machiavelli on that matter, "And then? What if they hear nothing?"
"You have contacts all over the city. Try to get an associate inside the Castel Sant'Angelo. Everyone knows the Contessa resides there with Cesare. Maybe Chiara is there too."
"Alright. I will see what can I do. In the meantime, any news from Bartolomeo?" asked Machiavelli, finally able to sit still. He was concerned about Chiara's safety as much as Ezio was; perhaps even more. He had grown close to her during their time together at the Rosa Del Fiore. Daily, he would bring her news on her sister which hardly ever changed, even providing help on the brothel's financial situation. She was the first woman he felt anything for. His cynicism dwindled in her presence.
Ezio nodded, "Si. He wants me to meet him to discuss General Octavian."
"The French commander? The war between them never seems to end. How long has it been?"
Ezio shrugged his shoulder, thinking back to when he aided Bartolomeo with the downfall of Silvio Barbarigo.
"Three years, I think. Hopefully this time we can finish off the bastardo francese (French bastard)."
"Buona fortuna, amico mio (Good luck, my friend)."
"Grazie. I will be off now. When there is any news of Chiara, let me know."
"Of course." said Machiavelli.
Ezio left the hideout swiftly through the underground tunnel and Machiavelli gathered a list of contacts associated with the Borgia's. He already had a young guard inside called Gianluca who he hadn't heard from in a while. He frequently came to La Volpe Addormentata when he was off duty, so now was the time to contact him.
Machiavelli rolled up his list and slipped it inside his coat. He then left for the thieve's guild through the same underground entrance Ezio had used. It was claustrophobic and smelled like a sewer but it was safer staying below, than being above on water where he could be easily seen.
At the pub, business was booming. It was a busy night now that the focus was lost on the Banker's parties and his protection. There were double the amount of guards than he had ever seen. Machiavelli spotted La Volpe in the game room, laughing whole-heartedly as he snatched money from drunken guards who had no idea how fast their money was disappearing.
"La Volpe. We need to talk," greeted Machiavelli as he approached the table.
"Try to win at least one game, my friends!" he yelled to the guards he stood up.
La Volpe led Machiavelli to the back room where the thieves lived.
"As you may already know, the Banker was killed at his pagan party."
"And Chiara Sforza was kidnapped," continued La Volpe, under his dark, droopy hood.
"Ezio asked if you would let your men be on the lookout for any news."
"And why would I do that? That girl is out of the picture. Now we can continue eliminating the rest of Cesare's first-hand men."
"She is important to the Brotherhood! Ezio specifically asked-"
"Are you sure? Or is she important to you?" remarked La Volpe snidely.
Machiavelli shook his head in disbelief, "Why do you distrust me so much? Chiara is important and Ezio needs any news he can get on her. God knows where she is now!"
"You're in love with her aren't you?" asked La Volpe, grinning.
He found it amusing to tease Machiavelli, especially because he got wound up too quickly.
"No."
"And now you're in denial."
"La Volpe, just trust me on this. The sooner we find her, the-"
"But she is useless to us. What can she do? She couldn't even play her role correctly when it came to killing Juan Borgia. If anything, she is more trouble."
"Forget it. I will find her myself," said Machiavelli.
"Have fun," shrugged La Volpe, dismissively.
Machiavelli stormed out of the backroom and found himself trapped in between guards and thieves who were drinking gleefully and losing themselves in idle chitchat.
Claustrophobia wound him up even further and as he struggled to find a seat, he heard someone call out his name.
"Pssst! Niccolo!"
He scanned the room for the voice and spotted young Gianluca in a corner, next to the door.
"Gianluca! I thought I would find you here. What news from the Castel?"
"Sigora Chiara is there, messer."
Machiavelli gained interest all of a sudden, "So Ezio was right. How is she?"
"I think Cesare hurt her," replied the young boy, sadness in his innocent eyes. "Her clothes were ripped and her cheeks were bruised when I took her down to the cells."
"No!" exclaimed Niccolo. He couldn't bear the thought of Cesare laying one finger on Chiara.
"I wish I could get her out, but I am afraid the number of guards has tripled. French guards do their duty here too."
"Is there any way inside for me?"
The guard shook his head, "The only way inside is to climb. Even then, you would need keys to access the many entrances of the Castel."
"Can you retrieve any one of those keys?" asked Machiavelli desperately.
"No. The Pope keeps one on him at all times as does Lucrezia. Cesare is too careless to even carry one."
"I am sorry. I think messer Ezio would be the only able to climb in without arousing suspicion."
"Excuse me?" asked Niccolo, clearly offended.
"He is the one who is more skilled at combat, isn't he?" asked the guard, hesitantly.
"All of us are skilled at combat. Ezio is merely a better acrobat," remarked Machiavelli coldly. The attention Ezio received was absurd. Everywhere you looked, people were constantly praising him. It was true that Machiavelli was jealous, but he often let it pass due to them being allies and even friends.
"That is what I meant. Are you going to tell him?"
Machiavelli nodded, "Of course! Since he is the best man for the job, I have no choice but to."
Gianluca frowned at Machiavelli's words but even so, reminded him that security was tight at the Castel and that it would prevent him from coming here often. After bidding him goodbye and leaving the pub, Machiavelli rubbed his chin, angrily.
"More skilled", he repeated the guard's words, "My foot."
He noticed from the corner of his eye that La Volpe had watched the whole thing. Machiavelli didn't even bother to give a nod in his direction and left the pub, on his way back to the Tiber Island hideout.
Back at the Castel Sant'Angelo, Chiara was being interrogated personally by Cesare because Caterina coming back from the cells empty-handed was simply not enough.
"I will ask you one last time, Chiara. Where is the assassin's hideout?"
"I told you I have no idea!" she shouted back.
Chiara was stood in the same office as the night before. The only thing in this room was a table in the corner with a map on it, a candle burning softly, and a few tapestries hung on high walls. The windows were too high to climb - it would be impossible to escape without three chairs or so stacked on top of one another. Caterina stood in one corner, providing no input to the interrogation.
"Okay, let us try another question. What are the assassins planning?"
Chiara repeated herself and denied knowing anything because it was indeed true. She had no idea what the assassins were planning against them.
"We have all the time in the world, darling. I made sure all my business for the night was handled prior to our little meeting."
"How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
"Only until you tell the truth."
Chiara clenched her fists and tried to stay calm and composed.
"Cesare, if I knew anything I would have told you by now. What have I got to lose by not telling you?"
This made Cesare ponder for a moment before nodding, "Good point but Caterina informed me of how much you care about the well-being of the Italian people. It is admirable, I admit."
He leaned inside closer and whispered in her ear, "Maybe that is why you won't tell me. You don't want to see these dumb citizens get hurt?"
"I honestly do not know anything about the assassins. They didn't tell me anything," replied Chiara, trembling. He shifted her unruly hair out of her eyes and smiled.
"Yet you somehow found your way into my brother's Pagan party?"
"That was one thing. They asked me to help on one occasion."
Cesare stopped smiling, "So you lied."
"Do you know what happens to liars here, Chiara?" asked Cesare.
She didn't say anything. Instead she glanced at Caterina who stood like a statue, emotionless and unmoving.
"I said, do you know what happens to liars here?" he roared, causing Chiara to whimper.
"No," she mumbled.
He unbuckled his belt and roughly pushed Chiara down to the floor.
"They get punished," he stated, taking off his pants. He kneeled over her with a never-ending maliciousness and pinned Chiara down with his whole body so she couldn't move. She let out a scream but he called her a bitch and told her to shut her mouth.
He groped her chest and lifted her skirt up above her legs. Cesare then wedged the tips of his fingers between her thighs and pushed. Chiara let out a blood-curling scream. It hurt. The sensation was unbelievably painful and she felt blood dribbling down her legs.
"Caterina!" she cried out to her sister who was paralysed on the spot, unable to look at the horrific sight in front of her.
"She won't do anything!" said Cesare breathlessly as he thrust himself inside Chiara. Caterina couldn't take it anymore and touched the door handle when Cesare forbid her from leaving. While Chiara felt agony, he felt pleasure. He yanked at her hair, surpressing a cry of delight at his victory. She felt good; a hundred times better than Caterina ever did. Chiara's fragility and her youth were assets. She was his age moreorless.
"Caterina, help me!" she yelled out again. The pain seared through her insides. It consumed her and she screamed again. Cesare was still moving on top of her, not letting the exhaustion stop him. His hands were getting clammy as he held her arms down. Chiara thought she was going to break his bones.
"Just tell him what he needs to hear..." said Caterina, unable to look her sister in the eyes. She had her back to them both, fists clenched. If she interfered, Cesare would hurt her too. She was too much of a coward to even sacrifice herself for her little sister.
Chiara continued screaming, tears streaming down her face, praying for it to end. She couldn't stop and her sister knew that those screams would haunt her for a long time.