smile fades; he knows the game is over. He moves a hand towards his own waist and pulls out a leather purse. He loosens the strings and exaggeratedly tips it upside down. Nothing spills out.
“You’re wasting your time,” he says, his words bleeding into each other. “I don’t have a penny. Not even enough to pay that whore!” He throws his head back and laughs with gusto.
“It’s not your money we want,” Grazia tells him quietly. The dagger is now in her hand, held out towards him.
Silvio still refuses to be scared. “A lady’s dagger,” he says. “Isn’t it pretty? Close to useless!” He turns his back on Grazia, grunting as he shuffles towards the edge of the bed. He must be really drunk if he doesn’t realize how deadly Grazia’s weapon is. That slender blade could slide between a person’s ribs before they’ve even registered the attack.
Sophia draws a sword with a snake engraved around the hilt and trains the point on Silvio. He staggers back into a bedside table.
“Where’s my girl?” he asks uncertainly.
Sophia gives him an icy smile. “You won’t be seeing her again,” she says. She takes a step forward and slices her sword through the air, a hairsbreadth from his nose. He flinches and cries out. “In fact, you won’t see anyone else ever again unless you do everything we tell you.”
“What do you want?” he asks. His voice is weak, his eyes watery and yellow.
Sophia lowers the point of her sword, then jabs it beneath the oily sash that fastens his trousers.
“What are you doing?” he protests, trying to curl his body away. But with a sudden upward jerk, Sophia tears through the sash and his trousers sag around his hips.
“Take them off,” Grazia orders, watching from the other side of the bed. She is smiling from behind her mask.
Silvio’s eyes widen. “You’re joking?”
Grazia shakes her head and tosses her dagger from one hand to the other.
“Do it,” I say.
Slowly, Silvio unlaces his trousers and they shudder down his white legs to gather at his feet. He steps out of the trousers and kicks them into a corner of the room. Bella Donna can burn them later.
“Now your shirt,” I say from my place at the door.
Trembling, Silvio heaves his filthy cotton tunic over his head, struggling to free his arms. For a moment, all we can see of him is his round belly, soft as dough. It sways from side to side as he tries to maneuver out of his shirt. Grazia and I share a glance while Sophia stifles a smirk.
“You heathen women,” Silvio bellows from inside his shirt. With a loud tearing sound, it finally pops over his head and he throws it to the floor. “Happy now? Does my humiliation amuse you?”
“It does indeed,” Grazia answers smoothly. “But it isn’t over yet.” She dips the point of her blade towards his undergarments. “And the rest.”
Her eyes haven’t left his face. He hesitates for a moment; then with a grunt of disgust he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his stained cotton hose and pulls them down, bending at the hips. I keep my eyes fixed on the wall above him. I can hardly believe what Grazia’s making him do—but after all, he has forced Teresa to endure much more than petty embarrassment.
Silvio straightens up, cupping his hands over his groin.
“Are you women or witches?” he spits, his eyes swiveling between our three masked faces.
Grazia draws near to our victim. Her smile has faded. “Now, if you ever raise a hand to your wife again, or betray or cheat her, I promise it will be more than your clothes you lose.”
Silvio’s face hardens in partial understanding. “Teresa is behind this? How do you know her?” I can see the anger rising inside him. He must be warned.
“If you make your wife suffer for what has happened tonight, the consequences will be severe,” I tell him. “So far we have been lenient.”
Silvio throws me a scornful glance. “Who do you think you are?” he asks. “No woman tells me what to do!”
Within a moment I am upon him, the tip of my dagger at his throat, drawing a bead of blood. I can feel my heart thudding and the roar of anger pushing through my veins. One thrust and I could have this man’s throat cut open. Where has this taste for blood come from?
“Do you understand?” I hiss into his face.
His lip trembles, and his brow looses a bead of