Chapter 20: Light

A/N: Lauds is a praise service that took place in the early morning, just before dawn, if you're wondering. It's one of the canonical hours. There would be seven church services every day in the Vatican, always at the close to the same time every day, each with a call to worship. Lauds is the second, after Matins. Cesare would have gone to pray late at night, around eleven, when there were no services going on.

Cesare ran out of the chapel, surprising Volpe who looked at him in alarm. "Master Cesare?"

"Take me home," Cesare ordered, still shaking, and Volpe nodded. They rode home at breakneck speed and Cesare rushed inside. "Chiaro," he whispered, looking around frantically. But Chiaro wasn't in his room. "Chiaro?" Cesare called.

"He's probably in your room, waiting for you," Volpe said, sounding bitter.

Without replying, Cesare ran to his room to find Chiaro sleeping in his bed. "Chiaro," he breathed, and quickly climbed into bed.

Chiaro woke up with a start and sat up to catch Cesare in his arms. "Cesare? Cesare, what happened? Are you all right?"

Cesare couldn't stop trembling, clinging as tightly as he could.

"Hey, calm down, it's okay."

Gradually, Cesare managed to breathe naturally again, though the trembling still wouldn't stop.

"Cesare, what happened?"

"I… tried praying," Cesare said, his voice shaking.

"You did? And?"

"He… spoke to me."

"God?"

"I think. He… is very powerful. Maybe he was trying to cast them out… there was so much light, but it was so strong… I didn't know what to do, and I didn't know what he would do to me. I panicked." He closed his eyes. "I think maybe… I didn't actually believe he was real until now."

"Understandable; it's hard to imagine." Chiaro rubbed his back. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." He leaned his forehead into Chiaro's shoulder, suddenly realizing he'd just run away from his salvation. "I feel so pathetic."

"Don't. It's okay. Do you want to go back? I'll go with you."

"I don't know." Chiaro's light was safe, comforting, soothing, like a candle in a dark cavern, or a sunbeam breaking through the clouds in the midst of a storm. But the light back at that church had been dangerous. It had been more like a roaring fire, the sun itself, not painful, but unimaginably bright, and Cesare had been afraid it would consume him. On the other hand… it had only come at his invitation. And it had stopped when he ran. The darkness chased him, threatening to consume him should he weaken for only a moment. He was only ever completely safe in Chiaro's arms. And the darkness was painful; he hated it as much as he desired it. But he loved the light as much as he feared it. "What if I lost my only chance?"

"I doubt it. He was human himself, you know. I think he understands panicking."

Cesare breathed in deeply and sighed. "Not tonight."

"All right."

"Maybe tomorrow." He allowed Chiaro to adjust his position so they were lying down and closed his eyes. "I think he might kill me, Chiaro. I mean, it would serve me right, but I don't want to die. And I'm wondering what it will be like to live without them if he allows me to live."

"Without the demons?"

"Yes."

"Are you that dependent on them?"

"I don't know." He stared into the darkness. "Can I really… live as an ordinary man again? A mortal man with no special abilities or anything? Is that what I want?"

"Is it?"

Cesare sighed again. "It would be easier, I think, if I could see a way forward. All I know is what I don't want to become, and even then part of me does. Can you imagine never having to fear anything again? To have complete power to achieve anything you want?"

"But that means giving up your soul," Chiaro said.

"And with it my ability to love," Cesare replied. "I want the light. But the darkness is so much more comfortable and familiar. And I can't imagine that God feels anything for me but hatred. At least the devil finds me useful. But what possible reason could he have for saving me? Wouldn't it stand to reason that he has some ulterior motive?"

Chiaro smiled a little and said nothing for a moment, then gently sat up, bringing Cesare with him. "Just a moment," he said, and went to light a candle with the dying fire. He built up the fire then came back, still holding the candle. "I need to go and get something. I'll be right back."

"I'll come with you," Cesare said, getting up.

"All right."

Cesare followed Chiaro back to Chiaro's room, where his friend located a brown leather satchel. "Found it," he said. "I want to read to you."

"All right," Cesare agreed, a little confused, but Chiaro's voice was always soothing, so he didn't mind. They went back to Cesare's room and Chiaro set up a few more candles, then sat back on the bed, arm around Cesare, and pulled a book out of his satchel. "What is it?" Cesare asked.

"My Bible," Chiaro replied.

"You have a Bible?" Cesare asked. "How?" True, the printing press had been in use for nearly half a century now, but Bibles were still rare and expensive.

"It was a gift. After my mother died, I lived at a monastery for a while, and a few of the monks made me this. It's only the four gospels, but it's written in Italian, so I can actually read it."

"Written in Italian?" Cesare asked, raising his eyebrows teasingly. "That explains a lot. You know unauthorized Bible translations are banned, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. What are you going to do, turn me in to the inquisition?"

Cesare gave a laugh. "An Italian Bible sounds interesting. What are you going to read?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I'll hop around. I think I'll start with John." He opened the Bible, and Cesare was drawn in to the beautiful handwriting and illuminated letters.

"They didn't use a press."

"No. One of the reasons this book is so precious to me." He flipped through the vellum pages until he got to the place he wanted. He relaxed, pulling Cesare a little closer. Cesare closed his eyes to listen. "In the beginning," read Chiaro, "was the Word. And the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."

Cesare opened his eyes and looked up at Chiaro, who smiled at him. He closed his eyes again. "Keep reading."

"There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. This man came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all through him might believe. He was not that Light, but wassent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world."

Chiaro continued to read long into the night, pausing here and there to change gospels, skipping over most of the theology and focusing on the stories—Jesus' interactions with people. Every so often, he checked to see if Cesare was still awake. Cesare was, too caught up in the light of the words Chiaro was reading to even think of sleeping. It wasn't as if Chiaro was telling him anything he hadn't already heard—he was a cardinal, after all, who had attended countless masses and had received a religious education. But hearing it read aloud in his own language made it somehow different. And he'd never really paid attention before. It hadn't mattered. Amazing how many more things mattered to him now than they had before he'd remembered how to love.

Chiaro read about demons being cast out by Jesus' words, and a woman caught in adultery being forgiven. He read about outcasts being accepted and lepers being touched and healed. One story caught his attention, Jesus asking a man who had been sick thirty-eight years if he wanted to get well. Some might have found that question surprising, but Cesare understood. He had been asked the same question, and he was still struggling with the answer. Chiaro read about a man born blind who Jesus healed, and another man who was raised from the dead. He continued to read until he got to the last supper.

"Wait," Cesare said, interrupting for the first time in nearly an hour, "aren't we getting to the crucifixion?"

"Yes," Chiaro replied.

"Isn't that the end?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been reading?"

"A while."

"Don't you need to sleep?"

"Actually, I'm not really tired," Chiaro said. "Do you want me to stop or keep reading?"

"You're really not very tired?"

"No, not really."

"Well, then keep reading."

"All right." Chiaro smiled and continued to read about promised peace in times of trouble and Jesus' declarations of everlasting love and commandments to love one another. He read about Judas' betrayal and Peter's denial, and Cesare felt his throat grow tight. He almost laughed at himself. He was actually getting attached to the Jesus in these stories. And suddenly he felt like stopping Chiaro before the story went any further, because he didn't want to hear the rest. He knew what would happen next. Suddenly, the crucifixes that decorated so many walls and so many rosaries didn't seem like a decoration anymore, because he knew the person on that cross.

But he didn't tell Chiaro to stop. The only reason he might have any hope at all was because of the crucifixion. Maybe—just maybe—that sacrifice counted for him too. Maybe he could be forgiven. Perhaps Jesus might cast out his demons and bring him back to life. Perhaps. So he listened. He listened to Jesus being whipped and beaten and mocked, forced to carry his own cross. His mind filled with all of the paintings he had seen of the Via Doloroso, and he wondered why they had never meant a thing to him until now. His throat grew tighter until he was actually crying.

"Cesare?" Chiaro asked, looking shocked. "Are you all right?"

Cesare nodded, blinking back his tears. "Keep reading."

So Chiaro kept reading, about a thief who Jesus said he would remember in heaven, and a mocking crowd Jesus forgave. He continued on past Jesus death and onto the burial and resurrection, which, though Cesare had heard it plenty of times, was still a relief after the crucifixion. He smiled a little at the story of a disciple who refused to believe Jesus was alive until he appeared before him. He seemed to be finding a lot of people he could relate to in these stories. Chiaro read a few more stories, then: "That's the end," Chiaro said.

"Is it?"

"Are you all right?"

Cesare was quiet for a moment. "If he's really like that, I almost think I could love him. He reminds me of you."

Chiaro's face went red. "Um… Cesare, he's God. I don't even compare. If you said I remind you of him, that would be saying too much."

Cesare shrugged. "That may be so. But I've never seen anything close to that sort of love except in you, and perhaps Vanozza. I can only compare what I can't see to what I've seen. It would make no sense to say you remind me of Jesus."

Chiaro paused, seeming like he was trying to figure this out, then shrugged and smiled a little. "So, maybe I shouldn't have suggested you talk to him before introducing you. Honestly, I think I needed a reintroduction, too."

"I do feel a little better about asking him for help now." Cesare closed his eyes. "Perhaps we should go tomorrow morning."

"It is tomorrow morning."

"Is it? What time is it?"

"I heard the matins bells hours ago, so I would guess it's almost time for lauds."

Cesare shook his head. "I've kept you up all night."

"I don't mind. Do you want to go to lauds? There might be someone there you could talk to."

"No… I was thinking I should probably put my affairs in order, in case getting rid of the demons does kill me." He sat up a little and looked at Chiaro. "If it does, you need to get away as soon as you can, because Volpe will probably think it's your fault and try to take revenge."

Chiaro, all smiles gone, opened his mouth then closed it.

"I don't think it will," Cesare said. "But in case it does, I want to be prepared, and I want to make sure you'll be safe."

Chiaro nodded. He sighed a little. "Well, then, we should go to sleep."

"All right."

They lay down, Chiaro hugging him a little tighter than usual.

"Chiaro, if something does happen, will you be all right without me?"

Chiaro smiled a little. "How can I answer that?" he asked. "I want you to do what you've decided to do, because I want you to find peace. Of course I won't be all right if you die… but I won't lose it or try to kill myself or anything like that, if that's what you're worried about."

"Are you all right with me trying this?"

"Yes, I want you to. I just can't help being a little worried."

Cesare smiled a little. "Don't worry. Let's go to sleep."

…

Chiaro woke up when Cesare got up, forcing him to let go. Blinking in the morning light, he reluctantly sat up. He was so tired.

"Sorry," Cesare said, looking guilty. "You wouldn't let go. You can go back to sleep if you want; I just need to go and talk to my father."

Chiaro sighed a little. If Cesare's time was running out, he didn't want to miss any time with him. "No, I'll come." He stood up, head spinning with exhaustion, then sat back down. "Can you give me a minute?" After a moment, he stood up again, and splashed some water from the washing dish onto his face. "Okay," he said. "I'm awake." He turned and smiled at Cesare, who raised his eyebrows. "What time is it?"

"About nine, I think." Cesare tossed him his clothes.

"Thanks." He dressed, still feeling groggy.

"Can you get Volpe?" Cesare asked distractedly.

"Can I send Pedro to get Volpe?" Chiaro asked.

"Oh. Of course."

Ten minutes later, Volpe had come in behind Pedro. Chiaro checked to make sure his sword was in place.

"You wanted me, Cesare?" he asked.

"Yes," Cesare said. "I have a request to make."

"Anything."

"Will you take over for me?"

Volpe blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm planning on disappearing, and I wondered if you would take over for me?"

"I… can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not you. I can't pretend to be you, and I don't have your influence."

"Of course you can pretend to be me."

Volpe stared at him.

"Hair can be dyed."

"And my face?"

"Wear a mask."

"But you don't wear masks, and even with a mask, do you think I could fool your father?"

"Probably not, but I could explain things to him."

Volpe continued to stare. "Master Cesare, you can't really be serious. I don't have access to the demonic strength you've been using."

"I plan on disposing of that demonic strength."

"How?" Volpe demanded. "Does Chiaro have some trick up his sleeve?" He glared at Chiaro, who looked away, thinking it best not to get involved in this conversation.

"I plan on asking God to dispose of it for me."

"You're not serious."

"I'm completely serious, Tagio."

"Why?"

Cesare sighed. "If you don't understand, it's useless to try to explain it to you."

"Cesare, he's ruining you!"

Chiaro sighed and sat on the bed. He'd just sit here and be invisible.

"Tagio, I don't want to be the nightmare."

Chiaro looked at him, confused. The nightmare?

"You did."

"Yes. But that was partly because I thought there was nothing else left for me." He smiled a little. "I'm sorry I didn't turn out to be the dark messiah you were looking for, Tagio. I would appreciate it, though, if you would do this for me. Particularly since I'm not entirely sure I'll survive my exorcism."

Volpe said nothing.

"Will you think about it? Really, I'm paying you a compliment by asking you. I think you're capable of this, more than I am actually."

Something in Volpe's eyes flashed, and for a moment it was very easy for Chiaro to imagine Volpe a world conqueror. "I will think about it. How long do I have?"

"Depends on how long it takes for me to put the rest of my affairs in order. I would appreciate it in the meantime if you will come with me to my meeting with my father and pay close attention."

"Yes. I will go and change into court wear, if you will excuse me." He bowed and left.

"That was a little unexpected," Chiaro said after a moment.

Cesare sighed. "Please be on your guard, Chiaro. I'm tempted to kill him and remove the threat, but he's the only one who could do this, and I'm hoping his own ambition will make him agree and forget about you."

"Cesare, don't worry so much. I'm better with a sword than Volpe. I'll be fine."

Cesare glared at him. "You don't worry so little. You're making me a nervous wreck with that carefree attitude."

"I had my hand on my hilt the entire time he was in the room."

"And you almost drank the poisoned wine last night."

Chiaro smiled a little. "What, are you going to start tasting all of my food now?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"Yes!" Cesare said.

"You know, I am an assassin, I'm somewhat immune myself."

"You're not immune to all poisons."

"You won't be immune to any once your demons are gone."

"Once my demons are gone, we both disappear and never have to worry about Volpe again."

"And you're sure you'll be okay with this?"

Cesare sighed a little. "I'll miss Lucrezia," he said. "But I don't know that there's anything I can do for her now. The man they've chosen as her second husband, Alphonso, seems to be a good man, and I can only hope that she falls in love with him."

"I meant, are you sure you'll be able to give up being a conqueror?"

Cesare smiled. "I don't know what I'll do instead. But if you'll stay with me, I think I'll be all right."

"Of course I will."

Cesare put an arm around him. "Of course you will," he said gently.