"Two of them found me, and pulled me out of my hiding place. They said that good women are at home at night, waiting on their husbands, and that any woman walking the streets at night must be a whore. And so - " She shuddered. "There wasn't any use in screaming. What would that have done? Brought more guards." Her eyes were hard and dry as stone. "Some other guards came by. One of the men, I recognised. The captain. Pietro da Siena." She spat out his name. "I thought they were going to kill me. I do not remember how long it went on, or how I got home."
No wonder she had been so lacking in confidence - to be carrying this around. Ezio thought of Caterina, of how she had fought beside him at Forlì, and of the passionate night they had shared. All the fire in her had been burned away, after what Cesare Borgia had done to her. Ezio did not know if she would ever recover from it. And his own mother - all those years of silence. His chest felt tight with rage.
Annetta Abete snuck a look at him, and shrank away, shame in her eyes. He realised that his fists were clenched and he had allowed his anger to show on his face. He forced himself to soften his expression.
"I am not angry with you, Annetta," he said, and she relaxed, relief flooding her body. "I am angry that Roma is under the control of Cesare Borgia and other stupratori." He looked at her. "You are not to blame for this."
She stared. "I thought - I should not have been -"
"You are not to blame," he said again. He knew something of the methods of war. By raping Caterina, Cesare had been sending a message to Ezio. And his condottieri were sending a message to all the men of Roma. That just like the streets, the taxes and the goods - their women too belonged to the Borgia.
"Annetta." He made his voice as gentle as he could. "Forgive me, but - since this happened - have you bled?"
"I - yes, Maestro," she said.
"Thank God for that," he said, relieved.
Annetta nodded. "I too thank God for this. No child should come of such a thing."
Ezio risked an arm around her shoulders. She tensed a little, but then he felt her relaxing under his arm, even leaning against him. She turned her head into his chest, hiding her face, and he knew that she had begun to cry.
FILL: Confiding [3/3]
No wonder she had been so lacking in confidence - to be carrying this around. Ezio thought of Caterina, of how she had fought beside him at Forlì, and of the passionate night they had shared. All the fire in her had been burned away, after what Cesare Borgia had done to her. Ezio did not know if she would ever recover from it. And his own mother - all those years of silence. His chest felt tight with rage.
Annetta Abete snuck a look at him, and shrank away, shame in her eyes. He realised that his fists were clenched and he had allowed his anger to show on his face. He forced himself to soften his expression.
"I am not angry with you, Annetta," he said, and she relaxed, relief flooding her body. "I am angry that Roma is under the control of Cesare Borgia and other stupratori." He looked at her. "You are not to blame for this."
She stared. "I thought - I should not have been -"
"You are not to blame," he said again. He knew something of the methods of war. By raping Caterina, Cesare had been sending a message to Ezio. And his condottieri were sending a message to all the men of Roma. That just like the streets, the taxes and the goods - their women too belonged to the Borgia.
"Annetta." He made his voice as gentle as he could. "Forgive me, but - since this happened - have you bled?"
"I - yes, Maestro," she said.
"Thank God for that," he said, relieved.
Annetta nodded. "I too thank God for this. No child should come of such a thing."
Ezio risked an arm around her shoulders. She tensed a little, but then he felt her relaxing under his arm, even leaning against him. She turned her head into his chest, hiding her face, and he knew that she had begun to cry.