"Witchcraft," the Pope intoned from his throne, "is evil. Do you understand us, hmm? Do you repent?"
Once a month all the suspected witches were brought before the Pope for judgement. The accused – many of whom were innocents slandered by their enemies – had a choice of confessing and being given the Pope's personal blessing before being put to death, or being simply put to death.
There were two terrible ironies to watching his father preside over this farcical court, Cesare thought. The first was that the Grand Priest had blessed this room to prevent magic being used in it, and the blessing had been a ritual more symbolic – more magical - than most of the supposed practices of the accused.
The second was that there was a witch in the House of Borgia itself. No-one else knew, no-one else must ever know, that magic ran in Lucrezia's veins.
Lucrezia insisted on watching the judgements, for a reason she hadn't been able to articulate to Cesare. "I have to watch," was all she would say on the matter. He hated that she saw so many of her kind slaughtered in the name of the True Faith.
She would never be hurt, Cesare swore silently, as he did every month. He would not let anyone harm his beloved sister, even if he had to burn down the whole of Rome.
He was brought back to the present when the accused man spat defiantly at the floor and the Pope shrugged. "You are found guilty and will pass from this life without any hope of salvation." He gestured and two soldiers dragged the man to the side of the room and chained him up alongside the other three condemned prisoners.
The first accused had been a blonde woman, still quite young and pretty beneath the dirt and her ragged clothes. Lucrezia and Cesare had both lowered their eyes as she had begged forgiveness and received the blessing that would not spare her life. A motherly dark skinned female and a very young grief stricken man had followed her. Accusations plagued every race, gender and age – though, suspiciously, social class gave some limited protection.
Cesare found Rodrigo staring at him and smoothed his red clerical robes in a sign of outward deference to the occasion.
The last prisoner was brought before the Pope. Rodrigo gazed down sternly from the seat of judgement. "You are accused of witchcraft. How do you plead? Will you repent?"
"I will pray if you untie my hands," the frail looking man said. Rodrigo gave a satisfied smile. Cesare felt unease sweep over him as the elderly man's hands were unbound. The man clumsily got down upon his knees and clasped his hands together.
"Forgive me for being born with magic in my very blood. Forgive me for using my talents to heal the sick."
This wasn't what Rodrigo had been expecting. His eyes narrowed and his mouth drew into a tight line.
"Forgive those who put us to death," the man went on.
"Enough!" Rodrigo leant forward, anger flashing in his eyes.
The prisoner fixed him with a defiant glare. "You kill my kin, so-called Holy Father. Would you slay even your kin? Would you slay your child?"
Lucrezia! Cesare made to advance on the man who dared to threaten his family but Micheletto's hand grabbed at his elbow, stilling his attempt to move towards her. His servant stared straight ahead, stony faced, and Cesare hesitated. Micheletto was right, of course. This was not the time or place, not least because his hasty actions might actually expose Lucrezia.
He glanced over at his sister. She was staring at the prisoner with a mixture of fear and contempt. Giulia Farnese, seated beside her, subtly slipped a protective arm around Lucrezia.
"You dare accuse a Borgia of witchcraft?" Rodrigo's rage was almost palpable. He was probably wondering what torture ought to be inflicted before the execution, for such a slight could not go unpunished. Death would not be enough.
"I do not," the prisoner said and Cesare relaxed, relieved. Micheletto, still staring ahead, released him. Lucrezia licked her painted lips, aiming an unmistakably Borgia glare at the prisoner. "I only ask that, if your child was a monster, as you see us, would you slay them?"
With a speed unexpected for his years, the prisoner leapt to his feet, spinning on one heel so he was facing Cesare. One arm was upraised and he was shouting an invocation. Micheletto was faster, however, shoving Cesare aside with such force that he stumbled and fell to the floor.
For a moment the world was in turmoil. Then there was the smell of fire and rain and freshly ploughed fields and Cesare tasted wine and felt a gentle warmth wash over him, calming despite the situation. There was smoke, but as he sought to untangle himself from his crumpled robes, he realised it was not acrid smoke as from a bonfire, but white and sweet like incense.
There was also a dragon. Iridescent scales covered a huge hide, and a wicked looking head towered up maybe twenty, thirty feet.
Cesare stared at the creature for a moment and looked for Micheletto as soldiers drew their swords and moved towards the dragon hesitantly. The dragon gave a warning rumble, its massive tail flicking out behind it and scattering the assembled faithful. There was screaming and many ran for the doors but the Pope merely stared at the dragon as if angry at a stray dog that had dared interrupt the proceedings.
"No!" The prisoner pointed an accusing finger at Cesare. "It was supposed to be you! Let the Pope slay his favoured son!"
Magic was – supposedly - impossible in this room. The presence of the creature said otherwise. Cesare looked for Lucrezia – whatever the hell had happened, she was his first concern. She was on her feet, but she didn't seem afraid, only upset. She looked at him with pity and at last he realized the truth.
They'd finally arrested a witch with power beyond anything they'd imagined, and his faithful servant Micheletto had saved him by taking the curse upon himself, being transformed into a dreaded beast that must be killed.
Cesare felt white-hot rage surge in his blood. He got to his feet, tossing aside his hat, and drew a dagger from beneath his robes. With great economy of movement he strode forward, grabbed the witch, and plunged the danger into the man's heart.
The man fell lifeless to the floor. Cesare hoped that would be an end to it, that the spell would break. He was to be disappointed however. Micheletto remained a dragon. The dagger fell to the floor, unheeded.
"Our son has the wit to act," Rodrigo noted. "Now, guards, get rid of this infernal beast before it destroys all of Rome!"
"No!" Cesare moved to stand protectively in front of the dragon's head, praying he wasn't making a terrible mistake and that Micheletto wouldn't bite off his head. Was it his imagination or did he smell woodsmoke? He didn't dare to look at the dragon, keeping his gaze fixed on the Pope.
Rodrigo frowned. "This monstrous creature is an offence to God himself!"
"This creature is my most loyal servant, Micheletto." Cesare shook his head, distraught. "He has saved my life many times, Holy Father, and but for his valiant actions I would now be this monstrosity. I beg you to stay your hand."
Giulia and Lucrezia moved to stand alongside them. Giulia looked nervous but Lucrezia reached past Cesare and ran delicate fingers over the beast's scales. "Poor thing," she said softly.
"You want me to spare a dragon? An untameable beast?" Rodrigo gestured with one gloved hand. "You ask the impossible. Lucrezia, move away!"
With sudden inspiration Cesare lifted his head to stare at the dragon's head. "Micheletto," he called and the dragon lowered its head. If this didn't work, there was nothing else to be done – hell, if this went wrong, Cesare might lose his life. He moistened dry lips and stared into the amber, inhuman, eyes. "Micheletto. Sit."
Time seemed to stand still.
Then, with a low grumble, the dragon sank onto its haunches and Micheletto, beast though he now was, lay down his head onto the stone floor in submission.
"Dear God in Heaven," Rodrigo said, crossing himself.
"You see, Holy Father," Cesare said, his bold tone a lie, his heart still pounding furiously. "He is still loyal to me. He may still have an immortal soul. He cannot be killed."
"No," Rodrigo agreed. "No, of course not. Not when such an opportunity is given to us – it is a miracle, sent to us by God!"
There was such illogic in that statement given the events that had led to Micheletto's transformation that Cesare couldn't even begin to refute it.
"Holy Father?" Lucrezia asked, puzzled.
Rodrigo stood, excitement dancing in his eyes. "Think what we can accomplish with such a magnificent creature at our command." He made his way down the steps and over to Micheletto, where he regarded the dragon with pride.
Dragons were deadly and they had been wiped out because of their fierce and intractable natures. An obedient dragon, however, was another matter.
"France has unicorns," Rodrigo said, with religious fervour. He lifted one wagging finger. "But Rome…now Rome has dragons!"
(part one of Everything is Better With Dragons.)
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