• That was written for a writing workshop -- disclaimed in case I'm so unlucky as to have this upload seen by a member of the group.

    --

    Absolution

    It was a long road back to the city. The pig farm behind them, Luisa and her companion, the wagon’s driver, settled in for the trip home. With the job complete, they didn’t have anything to worry about -- not the moment, anyway. They could rest assured that, short of highwaymen, there was nothing to be concerned with, and highwaymen didn’t attack noticeably empty wagons.

    As any other night, there was some thin fog low to the ground, but it was still rather warm. The air was still and the snorting of the ox echoed. At least they could hear any potential horses heading their way.

    “This is it, then?” the driver asked.

    Luisa nodded, though in the dark, the driver likely didn’t see it. After a moment’s hesitation, she corrected that mistake and said, “Yes, our work is done for now. We took an hour to reach the farm, but had cargo. With the cargo dumped, you can push the ox hard enough to save five minutes if you want your money faster. I’ll compensate you at the shop.”

    "You and your numbers."

    Numbers had always been the least of her difficulties. You and your numbers, said the
    butcher -- Luisa and her numbers, my, Luisa has a head for them, she'd heard it over and
    over again.

    It wasn't all that she had a head for.

    “My father didn’t send me to finishing school so I could cut meat.”

    The butcher snorted, “Then sit back and enjoy your education, signora.”

    She did. She watched the stars up above, the many hundreds of lights against the deep purple sky. Perhaps one of them was Saint Michael himself, watching over her as she cast down her own devil. For a moment, she wondered if he would be enough, or if God would still punish her for what she had done. It didn’t matter. Her father’s political ambitions would be realized. Her fortunes were pocket change in comparison.

    -

    Had Luisa known what he was going to say, she might not have allowed anyone to see the young man enter the home of the Castiglione family. Nevertheless, unknowing, she welcomed him into her office. There, surrounded by shelves full of ledgers and folios, Luisa sat opposite him. He looked uncomfortable. Surely it was for one of two reasons: he owed more lira than he could repay, or he was asking for a loan that he knew was beyond his means.

    “Will you take water?” Her voice maintained the same flatness it always had, defeating the purpose of attempting to be hospitable to begin with. The man was noticeably more ill at ease.

    After a moment’s hesitation, he said calmly, “I will.”

    She rose from her chair and poured some warm water from the carafe on the table behind her into a wooden cup. As per tradition, she sipped from it to prove that she hadn’t poisoned it in any fashion, fostering a level of trust between them. He took it from her, gulped it down quickly, and then returned it to her. Oh, yes, he was nervous.

    “So, signore..." she trailed off, waiting for his introduction.

    “Ambrogio.”

    “Signore Ambrogio, what is your business here, exactly? I’ll have you know in advance that we are not offering loans at this juncture.”

    He smiled a little and glanced backward before leaning forward. “I want fifty ducats, half of which will be in lira.”

    “I am very sorry, but as I just said, we are not offering loans at this juncture.”

    “Signora Castiglione, believe me when I tell you that this is not a loan. You will give me this money. I know all about Councilor Carducci and your father. You will note that this information is in the hands of a friend of mine who will send it to the doge if I do not appear in twenty minutes.”

    “Councilor Carducci?”

    “Excuse me, signora, but don’t even try. There will be no negotiation and if you waste my time, the council will find out anyway. Give me a place to retrieve the money that is not on your property, and I will make sure this disappears.”

    Luisa nodded slowly. “Of course,” she said. “How did you come by this information, if I may ask?” Staying polite was the key to making others feel as though they were really in charge. If there was anything apart from numbers that she was skilled at, it was that form of deception. She understood immediately the potential consequences of allowing this young man to succeed in this plan of his, and she understood what would happen if the doge knew of her father’s schemes.

    “I simply did, Signora. Now, tell me where you’ll send the money and I’ll be on my way. Write it down.”

    “Oh, you can read?” She wrote slowly.

    Ambrogio chuckled. “I know someone who can.”

    “This man is experienced in escrow. I think we can both trust him. He should have your money tomorrow afternoon. If he doesn’t, tell him I want him to come collect it at your leisure.”

    He snatched the note and get up, moving quickly to the door. “Thank you for your cooperation and hospitality, Signora. I hope to do business with you again.”

    “I trust you won’t have the opportunity for this business again.”

    He chuckled again -- the man was remarkably jovial. “We shall see, we shall see. Good day, Luisa.”

    He left. He didn’t seem to notice that she never opened her ledger even to check and see if they had the necessary funds. That did not mark a man who had thought his plan out very well, or one who had done the necessary and proper research. She was never one to simply agree without checking the necessary books.

    She left as well, and spoke to her manservant outside. “Follow him wherever he goes. Find out whom he meets with. If you see a member or employee of this family, come back immediately, they’re who I want. If not, wait for four hours. Take Isidora and Pietro with you, cover everything, and hurry up. Go now!”

    The manservant hurried off. She could trust of the three of them to do what they had to do to make sure everything would work out well for her. They would make sure to note everyone Ambrogio met with, every word he spoke, everyone who cared about his existence; as a serf, those would be few, but they all mattered. Confident in her spies’ abilities, she made her way to her father’s study upstairs. She knocked on the door and waited for his reply. When he opened the door, she entered and took a seat at his desk without a word. Looking up, she saw her portrait hanging above his desk. It was the work of one of the greatest painters in Emilia, worth two hundred ducats. He had commissioned it so he could show off his wonderful daughter to all of his visitors. She smiled.

    “Luisa?”

    “Father, are you trying to get an invitation to the doge’s birthday?”

    He nodded as he circled the desk and sat opposite her. “Of course, it’s important to our future. Why?”

    “I just wondered.” She thought for a moment about the possibilities. The family had a lot of money invested in ventures that required the doge’s favor quickly. If they weren’t able to gain his good graces by the end of the year, she hypothesized, they would lose vast sums of lira. Of course, if Ambrogio stayed in Emilia and came forward, they would be charged with treason. “I met a man today who knows about Carducci’s death. He’s going to tell the doge if we don’t pay him fifty ducats.”

    “Then pay him.”

    “Fifty ducats, Father. We can’t afford that. Besides, there’s nothing to stop him from--.”

    He slammed his fist on his desk, “Then I’ll discredit him! We’ll plant evidence to confirm that he did it; the spies can handle all of it. It’s not a problem if we act quickly. When he tells the council, they’ll want an investigation and we’ll show them to this wretch.”

    He was right about one thing. It wasn’t going to be a problem if they acted quickly. His plan, however, was unnecessarily complicated, as always. He was used to dealing with other upwardly mobile politicians, working with massive plots involving city-level resources. Setting his mind on such a small target was akin to setting a forest ablaze simply to keep a wolf from your sheep. No, she had to do it herself. Sometimes even he needed to be protected.

    “Yes, Father. I’ll tell your spymaster to start planning tomorrow. The money is due in escrow at the end of the week.” That would give them more than enough time to find out that Ambrogio had disappeared and was no longer a threat. Luisa would handle it personally -- she just knew her father’s plan would never work. There was no reason for the doge to investigate; he had already gathered evidence and if it fit Ambrogio’s accusation, as it undoubtedly would, then the family would simply be written off as traitors; her father could get preferential treatment, but she would be hanging from the gibbet by the end of the month. Her father, however, would not take kindly to her criticisms. He never did. She would simply handle it so he would never find out it was she. Even he had no idea of what she was capable.

    “Thank you, dear,” he said, his voice softer now that he was dealing specifically with her. “I don’t want you to worry about this nonsense. Stay away from this man, Daughter -- the spymasters will take care of everything.”

    Someone will, at least. Luisa smiled to feign agreement.

    -

    It was early in the afternoon when Luisa left the Castiglione manor, with a maidservant named Savina carrying a lockbox holding the necessary coinage. Luisa hadn't known the girl's name before now, but her spies had seen her meet with Ambrogio and they saw a sealed letter pass from her to him; they had even smiled and joked with each other afterward, which was yet more evidence that neither Ambrogio nor his informer really knew what they were doing.

    They entered the shop through the front, Luisa wearing nondescript clothing, a drab combination of browns and olive to match her maidservant. Savina looked happy.

    “Why are we at a butcher?” the girl asked.

    “He works escrow, too.” She nodded to the butcher and gestured at the girl. “Marco, this is the business.”

    Marco nodded. “And what’s her name?”

    The girl said happily, “Savina, sir. Where should I take the money?”

    Luisa pointed to the back of the shop, where there was a thick, oak door leading to a large storage area. Savina walked through it carrying the lockbox. Luisa followed her, knowing that Marco would close the shop and leave a note for Ambrogio to knock when he arrived. Midday was no time for a butcher to do his business, traditionally speaking; hence the escrow services.

    Inside, Savina stood in the middle of the room, evidently confused. The door shut and the lock clicked, leaving her with Luisa, the only light coming from a small window high up in the wall. She turned to face Luisa. “What’s going on? I thought you couldn’t be here. What if he sees you?”

    Luisa walked over to a cutting table and grabbed the boning knife laying there. “Everything will work out, Savina. Trust me.” Moving very close to the girl, she took a deep breath. “We cannot afford to have traitors in our employ, Savina, and I regret that your service to this family has come to an end. God for--”

    “What?” Savina barely croaked out the word.

    “--give me for my sins.”

    Before the girl could actually say anything more, Luisa whipped the knife around, the narrow blade slicing cleanly through the girl’s throat. She stepped back and turned around so she would not have to see the poor girl’s last moments. Hearing them was bad enough. She reached up and mopped at her face with her sleeve, wiping off the droplets of blood that had spurted out.

    When Luisa could no longer hear the girl clinging to life, she turned back around. Savina had probably been a good maidservant until she had spoken to Ambrogio. As she looked down at the body, she wondered briefly if her death had really been necessary. Yes, we can’t let traitors get away with anything.

    She grabbed hold of Savina’s arms and pulled her away from the center of the room before calling for Marco. When the butcher appeared, she pointed to the body. “Get her up on the table.”

    He bent down and scooped her up in his arms, laying her flat on the cutting table against one of the walls. “What are you going to do with her?”

    “How would you get rid of a body?”

    Marco sniffed and wiped the blood on his hands off on his apron. “There’s a pig farm about an hour out what pays for my inedibles. Slop, you know. I’d say she’s pretty damn inedible.”

    “Then that’s what we do.”

    “Need to chop them up small, though. Getting out of the city is the issue; the farm doesn’t ask questions.”

    Luisa nodded. She had no problem with this and indeed the excitement she felt in the pit of her stomach made her feel like she needed an outlet for it. She looked around for a bone saw. “When Ambrogio gets here, send him back. When he comes in here, sap him. Don’t kill him, I want to have a few words first.”

    “Yes, signora. I’ll wait out front, then. Got some work to finish up.”

    At the cutting table, Luisa picked up a spare apron and slowly put it on. She reached for the saw on the nearby shelf and placed it on the torso. Where to start? She moved it down to one of the wrists and set to cutting through. It was tough work and something far from what she was used to. She was surprised that the blood flowed out without any spray. The sound of the saw blade on the bones was grating but oddly satisfying, as were the cracks that soon followed. Her arm tired, she shook her head and looked around for another implement. The cleaver would likely be more effective. She took hold of that and held it high over her head, lining up the blow as best could before bringing it down full force. She missed, chopping off two fingers instead.

    That was still gratifying, though. She smiled a little, unfazed by the fact that she was enjoying this work. A thought struck her. What about the head? They couldn’t really make that any smaller. Would a pig eat that? She didn’t see how. Perhaps Marco knew better than she.
    She heard voices on the other side of the door and backed away from the corpse, making sure Ambrogio would see Savina’s remains when he entered. The cleaver remained in her hand.

    The door creaked open and a golden light shone into the room. Ambrogio entered first, with Marco just behind, holding a lantern in one hand and pulling a leather blackjack out from under his belt. They both stopped, Ambrogio staring at Luisa with his lips parted. She noted his eyes darting between her and the corpse and opened his mouth to scream, but only a croak came out before Marco bashed him over the head with the blackjack. He dropped instantly.

    “Is he still alive?” Luisa asked.

    Marco rolled Ambrogio onto his back and placed a hand over the man’s heart. “Still beating. I didn’t hit him as hard as I could have.”

    “Help me, then.”

    He hung the lantern from a hook in the middle of the ceiling and the both of them set about tying the man’s hands behind his back and around a leg of the cutting table. Tearing two strips of cloth from Savina’s dress, they balled one and stuffed it into Ambrogio’s mouth -- the second was tied around his head so he wouldn’t spit out the first.

    Then they waited. Ambrogio would take some time to wake up again, but they had all day, so there was no reason to try to wake him up sooner. When he did, Luisa had some business to attend to. In the meantime, she got back to Savina’s body.

    “Give me the saw,” Marco said. “I don’t really want to do this but I suppose we have to. Might as well do it right.”

    “Yes,” was all Luisa said in response. She sniffed as she passed Marco the saw and kept chopping away with her cleaver.

    It took almost an hour for Ambrogio to regain consciousness. When he did, he groaned and tried to get up but failed, the table dragging him back to the ground. Luisa stepped back as he kicked his legs and struggled helplessly. His eyes were wide, darting back and forth, and the muffled noises he made almost resembled some kind of speech, punctuated by gagging as the wad of cloth in his mouth moved toward the back of his throat.

    In the well-lit room, Luisa could see the panic in his eyes. She pulled up a stool and sat in front of him, legs crossed delicately.

    “This is what happens when you blackmail a noble family, Ambrogio.” Her sentence ended just as Marco tossed a small, bloody piece of human onto the floor beside them. “You’re not getting any money and you’re not getting information from…,” she trailed off as she bent forward to pick up the piece of poor Savina. She cleared her throat to cover the slight grimace and threw the bit onto his lap. He tried his best to scream but barely a sound came out. “Suffice it to say that this is the end of everything for you. Now, I’m not going to torture you, but I do need you to know that right now, Castiglione agents are hunting down your friends and family, what few there are, and making sure they disappear. It’s fortunate that you’re a nonentity in this city; that makes this so much easier. I have no idea what made you honestly think you could threaten a Family but it is very important that you realize how poorly thought-out your plan was.”

    She could see the tears streaming from his eyes, his chest heaving, but he wasn’t sobbing at all. He didn’t make a sound. Luisa wondered what was going through his head -- it was assuredly an emotion quite unfamiliar for her. Ambrogio turned away as Marco tossed another piece onto the ground.

    “I want you to know, and I swear this before God Himself, Ambrogio, that your sister will be well taken care of by our family. One of our maidservants disappeared this afternoon, so the position is open, and I think nine is a good age to start working. Pax tibi, Ambrogio; may God have mercy on your soul.”

    As though rehearsed, Marco reached down and seized Ambrogio by the hair, yanking his head back. Luisa closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch as Marco slit their captive’s throat. Pax tibi indeed, peace be with his eternal soul. In her heart, she knew this was just work, but that didn’t stop her from taking a kind of joy in crushing the man’s hopes and dreams. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she had never in her life felt as excited as she did at that moment. Warmth shot up her spine from her belly and she shivered at the feeling, smiling a little.

    “Your help would be appreciated, signora.” Marco placed a hand on her shoulder.

    She opened her eyes and nodded. “Of course,” she said, her voice maintaining the same flatness it always did.

    -

    The sun was rising by the time Luisa and Marco reached Emilia’s marble gates. They entered without incident, the ox trudging over the cobbles. The streets were still mostly empty, the only traffic being others from the countryside, arriving early to set up their wares in the market. She and Marco were simply another wagon. As they passed through the narrow streets headed toward his shop, Luisa clenched her fists.

    “Wait, Marco, take me to the church.”

    He turned down the next avenue without hesitation so they could double back to the Basilica of St. Michael. “Why?”

    “For confession.”

    The rest of the trip was in silence. Marco stopped in front of the cathedral and waited for Luisa there. She hopped down from the seat and drew her peasant skirt away from her feet so she could rush up the steps and through the atrium. Inside, she slowed to a brisk walk up the central nave. The cathedral was almost empty and her boots echoed through the enormous space around her. She avoided looking at the stained glass or the other faithful, guilt welling up inside her, and headed directly to altar. There, she dropped to her knees briefly, signing the cross on her forehead, and turned toward the confessionals, entering the closest one.

    She closed the door and sat inside in silence, waiting for the priest. It was not a long wait; he had definitely noticed her right away, walking in as fast as she had. She spoke before he even sat down in the companion booth. “Bless me, father, for I have sinned.”

    “How have you sinned, child?” His voice was low and mild, soothing even.

    “I have broken the Fourth Commandment, signore.” She closed her eyes. “I have dishonored my father.”