Chapter Text
There is someone already in the dining hall when Claudia enters it – Carlotta, perfectly well done in her carmine red dress, drinking tea while the maid sets the table. It's not an unusual sight – the Madame of Fiore Mortale is one of the more common visitors in the Auditore villa, really, being in charge of the most successful business in Monteriggioni… but usually she tends to visit later in the afternoon, not first thing in the morning. Like most prostitutes, Carlotta generally keeps late hours in all things – including when she gets up.
"You're up and about early, Madame," Claudia greets the older woman and goes to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning. I hope it is nothing serious."
"Oh, I would have been banging on your door if it was – no, not as serious as all that. Good morning, my lady," Carlotta says, smiling. "One of my girls was out and about late, and she spotted something on her way home I thought you would like to know sooner rather than later."
"And yet it's not as serious as all that? Then surely you could have sent one of your girls to tell me?" Claudia asks while taking seat, waving off the maid who rushes to serve her.
"I was up anyway, and I thought I could use a little luxury," Carlotta says, a little conspiratorially, and lifts hey tea cup. "And perhaps a spot of gossip."
"Oh?"
"Yes. You see, Annetta saw a monk entering the town."
Claudia pauses at that. "A monk?" she repeats a little incredulously while Carlotta grins, her cheeks dimpling. "Here?"
Since Ezio had funded the restoration of the brothel, Monteriggioni as a whole had been all but excommunicated, just short of having been declared a heretical nest of sin and sodomy. Being a known base for Assassins was likely the actual cause and the brothel only an excuse – they had many enemies in the church, thanks to Ezio's exploits. The only reason they didn't have worse trouble for their crimes and vices was likely due to their close ties to the Medici and Florence, keeping their enemies in check… for now. But as a result of it all… Monteriggioni wasn't exactly a place men of God were eager to visit.
The last time Claudia had spotted a person in a religious habit anywhere near the town, she's been riding with her mother, and the monks they'd passed by all made signs of the cross to ward off the evil they presented. It would have been amusing – had it not broken Maria's heart so.
"Are you certain it was a monk and not a man in disguise?" Claudia asks, dubiously. Everyone in Monteriggioni knows to be wary of potential spies – but it would surely make better sense that way.
"The man didn't even have shoes, my dear – he'd make a poor spy without shoes. I set Saverio to watch him, of course," Carlotta says, waving a hand reassuringly. "But Annetta says he looked poor and humble and hungry – if also very pretty."
"Pretty," Claudia repeats, arching a brow.
"Mm-hmm. Annetta would have approached him, had it looked like he had any coin. Apparently she was tempted anyway, just for his looks," Carlotta says, amused. "Spies are rarely picked for their good looks – pretty spies are far too easy to spot. Still, I thought you would like to know anyway."
"Hmm, yes, thank you," Claudia agrees and leans back, considering it. Uncle Mario is out, having a scuffle in San Gimignano, probably, and Ezio is who knows where, doing who knows what. Should the monk prove a spy after all, it would be up to her to deal with it. And if not… well, that would be even more interesting. And possibly concerning.
"Saverio is on him?" Claudia clarifies and Carlotta nods. "Please have him report what he sees to me – there's coin and a hot meal in the villa in it for him, if he does well."
"With that incentive, you'll have more than just what he sees," Carlotta says admonishingly. "Don't overpay people, Claudia, not even your own – especially not when they are already paid. The coin will be enough."
Claudia hesitates. "A meal in the villa is worth that much?"
"Day of luxury in the presence of lords and ladies in their grand halls is a gift to be given with great consideration – not at a whim," Carlotta says and stands. "We have so little greatness here, and its shine and allure is a powerful tool for persuading the people here – don't diminish its value so easily. Lord knows your brother does you no favours with it."
Claudia sighs. "I don't want to stand above the people of Monteriggioni. Uncle Mario doesn't," she murmurs. Monteriggioni is so small and it's people still so few – it feels vile to hang onto pretence of aristocracy among them, when they are all so poor – and when her family is in such state of dishonour.
Carlotta looks at her and smiles, patting her cheek. "You are a dear. The people want it. To have a high lady there with her fancy things and learned ways is such a great thing for the wretched – it makes it feel as if a person of greatness has deemed us worthy of her time and consideration. Just her presence is a gift for the poor."
But it's all pretence. Auditore family is almost as poor and bankrupt as the people of Monteriggioni – their only income is Ezio's bloody ways, and those are far from reliable. The windows of the villa are still boarded up and Claudia has been wearing the same dress for months, it's a disgrace. Surely everyone can see how low they have fallen?
Carlotta chuckles, likely reading some of her thoughts on her face. "Diminish the shine of greatness by sharing it too willingly with the undeserving, and you undervalue not only yourself and your time... but also those you treat thusly."
"Pretence of elitism makes me elite, then?" Claudia asks, a little irritable now.
"Yes – and it is grand," Carlotta says with a laugh. "Give Saverio coins and he will have something to boast and feel big about – give him your time and he will wonder what is the matter with you."
Claudia sighs. To think she thought there would be less societal politics in Monteriggioni than there were in Florence – but in Florence she was surrounded by people of equal or greater standing. Here… she is the greatest, it seems.
And damn if it doesn't grate.
"Very well, coins alone," Claudia says and looks at Carlotta. "But what does our association mean, for my false grandiosity?"
"That beneath it all, you are a cunning woman who knows the value and practicality of things down to Earth," Carlotta says with a smile. "But now you know why I declined your dinner invitations."
Apparently to save face. Claudia face, as it happens.
Carlotta leaves and the maid begins serving breakfast. The nurse comes in to beg Maria's excuses – she wishes to be left in peace, again. It would be another day, at least, before she came out of her room. So, alone at the table of pretend exclusivity, Claudia sighs and acutely misses the time she had the luxury of entertaining friendships.
Saverio comes to her late afternoon, hat in hand and stories to tell. He's a young man, more of a boy really, on the verge of breaking his voice and starting to break hearts. Time would tell if he would stay in the employment of Fiore Mortale. For now, he tends to mostly run errands – and watch people who need watching.
The monk, whom Claudia just expected to leave as soon as whatever business he had was concluded, had not left. Nor had he started snooping around, or hold sermons on sin and vice – or even visit the poor church of Monteriggioni, still in disuse and disrepair. No, instead the monk had found a bench, and promptly fallen asleep on it, in the shade of a cypress tree.
"Honestly he seemed more like a beggar to me, than a man from a monastery," Saverio says. "But he has robes and even a rosary and a cross, so I suppose he is a monk. A poor one."
"Monks tend to swear oaths of poverty," Claudia says. "I assume he didn't stay asleep?"
"Old Man Guido woke him up, before noon," Saverio agrees. "I couldn't hear what they spoke of at first, I was further away, but when I got closer, Old Man Guido was asking about God and scripture and demanding the monk pray for his wife."
Guido was once a commander of Monteriggioni forces, before age and injury had caught up with him – now he's a demanding nuisance to anyone he manages to catch. A good sum of complaints Claudia receives are about Old Man Guido bothering people – or from him, complaining about the people complaining about him.
It's been especially bad since Guido's wife, Ortensia, fell ill and the doctor could not promise her recovery. It gives him some leeway and people forgive him some of his outbursts – but not all.
"How did the monk react?" Claudia asks with a sigh.
"Mostly I think he was only confused – poor fella looks exhausted. They did talk about God, and the monk promised to pray and such," Saverio says. "And then they talked a whole lot about Guido's old woman and Guido cried."
Claudia blinks, taken aback. "Old Guido cried?" she repeats, just to make sure she didn't mishear.
"Like a baby, right there where everyone could see," Saverio says, grinning and rocking on the balls of his feet, proud to be bringing this news to her. "After that he and the monk went on a walk – I followed, of course. They talked about – about letting go, forgiveness, enjoying the time you have left, things like that, how Old Man Guido should be spending time with his wife. Never seen the old man like that."
"Hmm," Claudia agrees. Likely neither had anyone else – the most you tended to get out of Guido was either curses and insults or old war stories. She had tried to offer her help once, and afterwards swore to never do it again – nothing was worth the abuse she got for her efforts. "What happened then?"
According to Saverio, Guido had headed home and the monk had been accosted by another person from the town – Madame Ranieri, who had great concerns about the status of her soul, living next to the renovated Fiore Mortale as she did. The monk had reassured her that what others do around her had no effect on her soul – not unless she tried to force her will upon others, at which point it would be a different thing.
There were other similar incidents – people approaching the monk on matters of sin and soul and asking, in so many words, for some judgement or absolution for themselves or those around them.
Claudia hums thoughtfully, rubbing her hands together as she listens to Saverio's report. From what she can tell, the man had not expounded judgement on anyone or held any sermons, but how quickly people approached him is telling.
Monteriggioni has been a town without spiritual guide for a very long time. The restoration of the church was asked for most often – and the fact that Ezio had put his money on the brothel instead, while it made financial sense, had not made people happy.
Every Sunday good fifty people set out from Monteriggioni to attend to the mass in Siena. With the countryside covered in restlessness and plagued by opportunistic bandits, it wasn't a happy voyage for them to make. Claudia had made it herself with mother a few times, but the danger was far too great, and not worth the welcome and treatment they were given once there. But as Monteriggioni had no working church and no priest to manage it…
The first time a citizen of Monteriggioni had died and had to be then buried in Siena, it had felt as though a personal failing. The first time a young lady from Monteriggioni rode to be married in Siena was a worse blow still. Baptisms were the same… and of course no one had place to make their confessions, find their solace and forgiveness.
And in Monteriggioni no one expected to have their last rites read to them.
Lack of a church was one of the major reasons why people were still more eager to move out than they were to stay.
"Where is this monk now?" Claudia asks, while giving the young lad his coin.
"He was hovering by the market street," Saverio says, flipping the coin in his fingers and then quickly hiding it away. "I can show you."
"Please do."
The monk looks worse – and prettier – than Claudia had expected. He's young, cannot be yet thirty, and quite the sight to behold with his well-defined features, high cheekbones, a noble Roman nose…
But he also looks thin to the point of starvation, with shadows under his eyes and exhausted expression. His feet are bare, as Carlotta said, and they look sore and dirty from a long time of walking. And though the dark monk's robe he wears could easily be used to hide any number of weapons, how loosely it hangs upon his tall, lean frame tells Claudia he's doing no such thing.
The monk is sitting near the blacksmith's shop, with a young girl sitting beside him. Emiliana, Claudia remembers – she lives in the brothel, her mother had died last winter in childbirth. They are talking, and judging by how at ease Emiliana is, they have been talking for a little while now.
"... what is or isn't sin, I don't think that's up to me," the monk is saying while turning a bit of bread in his hands. "But I think… if it hurts no one, and causes no one harm or ill, or takes something away from someone else… it's probably alright."
"Everyone says she was bad though. That she went to hell," Emiliana says quietly, staring down to a piece of bread she's holding – it looks like the half of the bread in the monk's hands.
"I don't think that's up to just anyone to decide," the monk says and looks at her. "Was your mother bad, was she mean? Did she do bad things to other people?"
"No, I don't think so. She was just – she was just a whore," the girl murmurs, pouting. "And that's the worst thing you can be."
"Not even close to the worst thing, that," the monk says and looks at her. "So your mother gave other people pleasure. That's not a bad thing, I don't think," he says and shrugs. "So as long as no one was hurt in the process or forced to do something they didn't like, I don't see what's wrong with that."
"Sometimes she slept with women." It's said like a dare, the girl glancing at the monk challengingly.
"So do a lot of other people," the monk says with a snort and breaks off a piece of the bread. "Hell would be a damn busy place, if that was all it took. A lot of men there."
"... You said damn," the girl says, wide-eyed and then leans in to ask conspiratorially, "Are monks allowed to say that?"
The monk grins and shoves the bread into his mouth. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm not a very good monk," he says.
They spot Claudia then and Emiliana jumps to her feet, alarmed. As the monk lifts his head, Emiliana hesitates, curtsies to him hurriedly, saying, "I have to go, chores – I have chores!" and then she dashes away, almost as if she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.
Claudia looks after her a little regretfully – she didn't mean to startle the poor girl. Then she looks at the monk, taking in the short shorn hair, the stubble, the gaunt cheeks. He certainly looks like he used to have a monk's shaved head – but maybe it was a little while ago. His eyes are clear and intelligent though, warm golden brown in hue. Had it not been for the monk's habit, his looks might've been enough to make her catch her breath.
"That was a kind thing you did, telling her that," Claudia says tentatively.
The monk hesitates and then clears his throat. "She asked, I gave my opinion," he says quietly and looks down. "Who tells a little girl her dead mother is burning in hell, seriously? That's not right."
"Self-righteous people, I've found – who like to feel superior over others," Claudia comments, thoughtfully. She's inclined to like him – his words from before were spoken easily, without mockery, without superiority. It reminds her of the better monks she'd once known, in Florence – where people could better afford kindness and charity. "What brings you to Monteriggioni, Brother…?"
The monk doesn't answer immediately, looking around. Then he lets out a sigh. "Desmond," he says with an oddly resigned voice. "And I have no idea. I guess it seemed like the place to be."
A curious way to put it. Claudia looks at him and then sits beside him in the spot Emiliana had vacated. "You've left your monastery," she guesses. He looks bad enough that he might've actually been thrown out.
Brother Desmond doesn't answer, picking at the bit of bread he has. He's eating it slowly, stretching it out as much as he can, it looks like. He likely hasn't had much to eat in a while, certainly he's fallen on hard times. And yet… he'd shared his bread with Emiliana, who despite her situation had plenty enough to eat.
Claudia lets the silence go on for a moment, turning her eyes to the street. There are few people there, checking the two market stalls selling fresh food – mostly vegetables and herbs from the nearby countryside. It's definitely no bustling marketplace fit for a fortress such as Monteriggioni, and the farmers selling their food don't look too happy with their sales.
But at least now people come in to sell their wares – when she, Ezio and their mother had moved to Monteriggioni, there was only one merchant for food, and he only visited twice a week. Now there are daily food stalls.
"How do you like the town?" Claudia asks, glancing at him.
Brother Desmond, his bread down to last mouthfuls, sighs. "I like it very much," he says almost wistfully – and it sounds completely sincere. It also sounds like he expects to be thrown out of it.
"It's a little run down," Claudia says, thoughtful. A spy might try to flatter, or point out flaws, hem and haw on his opinion – he sounded honest. "And it's rather quiet."
"Is it? Can't really tell," Brother Desmond says and picks his bread apart, eating a piece, savouring it. "Fix up a few buildings and it'll be as good as new – people will come in and it'll get busier."
"You think so?" Claudia asks and he nods, casually confident. "It's a nice thought. Maybe one day," Claudia says and tilts her head at him. "We have a church here. It's a little run down too, very quiet. Would you like to see it?"
The monk looks at her and then finishes his bread, brushing his hands together. They're big, long-fingered hands, very clean. "I guess I would," he says and stands up. He's quite a bit taller than she'd realised - taller than even Uncle Mario, it looks like. "I would like that very much."
Claudia nods and stands up as well. "Right this way."
The church of Monteriggioni is the very definition of humble. It's small, it's not grand – the windows are broken, the doors boarded up. Even the bell is broken, and has not been rung once since she and her family moved into the town. Even from the outside, the building looks sad, abandoned, and decades past its prime.
It's certainly no Santa Maria del Fiore.
"We haven't had a priest here for many years," Claudia admits, as she and the monk eye the front of the forgotten church. "I suppose Monteriggioni isn't a sort of town many priests would like to join, not even to bring our sinful souls into the embrace of God."
"I don't know about sinful. People here have been very welcoming," Brother Desmond says, noncommittal, peering up at the little bell tower.
Claudia considers him, folding her arms. Whatever Old Guido had said or demanded seemed welcoming to him? "Why did you come here, Brother Desmond?" she asks. "Are you heading somewhere, or… are you looking for a place to stay?"
He blinks and looks down at her with some surprise. "Well – stay, if I can," he says, sounding a little startled. "I – I mean," he starts and then hesitates, considering her. "If that's possible, then – I would like to stay here. I can work, I can earn my keep. Um... I don't know what I could do, but…"
Claudia tilts her head a little, considering his expression. It looks like honest astonishment. Spy would've been seeking to take advantage – Brother Desmond only looks at her in baffled disbelief, like he can't believe is luck.
Claudia smiles and decides she does like him. "Then it is settled," she says and motions to the church. "I haven't funds to give you to renovate her," she says apologetically. "But she's yours, if you can do anything for her – and there will be pay in it, if you can… carry out the duties here."
"H-here – in the church, you mean –? I'm not a priest," Brother Desmond says quickly and shakes his head. "I wouldn't know what to do!"
"I've heard you talking to the people of this town, I heard you talk to Emiliana," Claudia says and shrugs. "If you can continue along that line, it will be better than the job no one is currently doing."
Chances are, no proper priest would enter Monteriggioni, not willingly, and she's not yet desperate enough to kidnap one. Yet they need a priest, or someone to perform the duties of one, that's been made plainly evident. And now here is a runaway monk with likely an awkward history with the church and some frankly unorthodox ideals – not a sin to sleep with women, indeed. If he can be so kind to the bastard daughter of a whore and can handle Old Guido well enough to make him break down and cry…
"What do you say?" Claudia asks and holds out her hand. "There are many empty houses, some near to the church. A job, roof over your head, food on your table… it's not a bad deal."
"It's not – but it comes with a lot of responsibility," Brother Desmond says warily, glancing between her and the church. "I'm not sure I'm up for it."
"You will never know if you don't try," Claudia points out. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work – we will know and move on."
He looks a little surprised by that, giving her a considering, maybe even an approving look. Then looks at the church. "Hm," he says then and nods, turning to face her fully. "I guess we will," he says and takes her hand. "I… I will do my best."
Claudia smiles and they shake. Yes, she has a feeling Brother Desmond would fit within Monteriggioni splendidly. And if he wouldn't and if he proved to be a spy after all… well. Her family are Assassins.
It wouldn't be difficult at all, getting rid of him.