Duchessina - A Novel of Catherine de' Medici Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    F OR SEVERAL DAYS we had no further news from Rome. Hardly anyone slept. Meals were cooked and served but left mostly untouched. Then one night the uneasy silence was shattered by a furious pounding on the main portal, the clatter of horses’ hooves in the courtyard, and persistent shouting.
    I flew from my bed, but Betta seized me by both arms. “Stay where you are, Duchessina,” she insisted. “Do you hear me? I’ll go down to find out what’s happening.”
    I pretended to obey, but headstrong as usual, I followed her.
    Torches flared in the courtyard. Two weary travelers—a young cleric and an older priest who had agreed to undertake the dangerous journey—were calling for Cardinal Passerini. When the cardinal at last appeared in his scarlet robe and hat, the priests delivered to him a letter from Pope Clement. Members of the household gathered while Passerini read the brief letter, his fat cheeks and small eyes grotesque in the flickering light.
    His glance swept over us, all waiting silently—cooks, grooms, gardeners, laundresses, valets, and maidservants, as well as Alessandro and Ippolito and their gentlemen dressed in silks and velvets. I crept close to Betta and hung on to her hand, sticky with sweat.
    â€œThe emperor’s soldiers are bent on destroying the Eternal City,” the cardinal announced gravely. “But—thanks be to God—our great friend, His Holiness Pope Clement VII, is safe. He sends his assurances that we in Florence have nothing to fear.” Passerini forced a ghastly smile and waved his hands as though he were shooing us away. “Now, I beg all of you, return to your beds for a good and peaceful night’s rest, knowing that, with God’s grace, all will be well.”
    No one moved. “Tell us what it’s like there,
padre,
” the cook called out to the young cleric. “You’ve seen it. Tell us.”
    â€œNo questions,” the cardinal interrupted, his voice like the screech of metal on metal.
    â€œOn a cloudy night as mist rose from the swamps and shrouded Rome,” the younger man said softly, ignoring the cardinal, “the maddened soldiers broke through the ancient walls of the city. They rampaged through the streets like wolves, looting homes of rich and poor alike, desecrating churches, raping nuns and pious housewives, slaughtering everyone in their path. The waters of the Tiber ran red with the blood of bodies dumped there.”
    Betta clapped her hands over my ears to shut out the gruesome images, but I shook her off.
    The older priest took up the story in a breaking voice. “The invaders destroyed our ancient monuments and treasures. Wherever they found books, they burned them. If they discovered precious manuscripts, they tore them to shreds. They stabled their horses in the Sistine Chapel beneath Michelangelo’s glorious ceiling.”
    We listened without wanting to hear but were powerless to stop ourselves. Even Cardinal Passerini could not bring himself to turn away.
    â€œWhen Pope Clement realized what was happening,” the young cleric said, “he fled through a secret passageway.”
    This last bit of news struck the household like a lightning bolt. Cardinal Passerini’s cruel mouth stretched in a grimace. “Lies! Slander!” he cried in a high, thin voice. “The Holy Father does not run from difficulties.”
    The priests lapsed into silence, drained of emotion. Only then did most people begin to shuffle out of the courtyard, shaking their heads, unable to speak.

3
Flight
    B ETTA HALF DRAGGED me toward the stairs. I hung back, peering over my shoulder, and observed the glances and whispered words exchanged between Passerini and my two cousins.
What is he telling them?
I wondered, stumbling along after Betta.
    Soon the palazzo was quiet again, although I doubt that anyone was asleep—except Betta, who had resumed her throttled snoring. Wide