The Mosaic

Chapter 47 | Belladonna

Something was wrong.

The moment a fist had banged on the front door, the air stilled, holding it's breath. There was an uneasy feeling creeping from one to another, slowly, crawling up their spines, making their heads turn the same direction, waiting.

But when there was no servant sent first to announce the visitor, they knew. Steps thundered down the corridor, louder and louder like a nearing stampede until the rattling of spurs rang within Laelia's head. 

Soldiers, armed. And there was only one family in all of Florence that could dare to oppose the church. De'Medici.

Black eyes and a sharp smile danced through Laelia's vision as the steps stopped, right in front of the library. Luca -- she didn't know why, but -- he had said he was headed for the Medici palace. No, that was ridiculous. He had been kind, he was just a banker, this was a mere coincidence, dozens of strangers came and went at the Medici palace, she didn't even know what had happened, if something had happened.

Laelia's hand crept to her waist when the door flew open and the guards poured in. Whatever it was -- it wasn't bad. It was catastrophic. Terrible enough to warrant ten soldiers forcing entry into a cleric's villa. Her hand closed around a small pouch. She was no longer helpless.

The men parted, swords clanking when they made way for their captain. Laelia straightened up in her seat -- she caught Amand shifting subtly, half shielding Marius behind him. No one spoke a word.

They were dressed in harsh black leather, sharp iron studs lining the edges as if they had all been nailed into their duty. Black capes, fastened at the shoulder with the Medici coat of arms. Black boots, silver spores sharp enough to cut more than just a slow horse.

They were eons from the polished men with their neat beards and shining livery usually guarding noble palaces. These were soldiers, christened in blood.

Laelia squirmed when the captain stepped closer, hand on his sword. He looked exactly like his men, no unnecessary decor, nothing discerning him from his men except the large black hat he wore, long black feather bobbing with every slow step. Strong features betrayed no emotion.

"It is impolite to not take off one's hat when entering a house," Laelia said, plastering a smile onto her lips.

The captain hadn't paid her any attention -- woman was synonymous with doll sitting in the corner until someone wished to play with it. Now, he slowly turned. Grey eyes bore into Laelia like a knife. "We ain't here to be courteous, Lady." His voice was slow, rough, like stones grinding together. "We serve the Lady Medici. Father Fromm comes with us."

For just a second, Marius' face twisted in confusion, before he smoothed it back into his eternally detached smile. The slow breath he forced out betrayed his worry. Amand no longer indulged in subtlety, stepping in front of him with a grim expression.

Laelia hoped the devil could fence as well as he looked. Her fingers toyed with the pouch. She was grateful for the gloves now, palms growing sweaty.

"No," de Vito said, "Out with you, you're ugly and ruining my chat." He sipped on his lemonade.

Ten swords hissed, ten pairs of boots thundered a step forward, ten pairs of eyes settled on the old little bishop fumbling with his cane. Like bloodhounds waiting for their owners sign to rip their prey apart. The captain waved his hand. Ten swords hissed, shoved back into their sheaths, ten heels clacked when they stood back at attention.

"Father Fromm comes with us for questioning."

"What for?" Amand snapped. "Do it here." Laelia saw his fists curling. He was scared. Questioning -- it didn't quite sound like a short chat in the palace.