Sins of the House of Borgia Read Online Free PDF

egg.
    “He has some teeth coming, at the back,” Donna Lucrezia told me.
    “Madonna,” I said, emboldened by what I had seen in her eyes. Another cough from Donna Adriana. A sharp intake of breath from my father. I ploughed on. “May I ask you a question?”
    “Shall we let this bold young woman ask us a question?” she asked her son. “Why not? Rodrigo says you may, Signorina Esther.”
    “What are the duties of a lady-in-waiting, madonna?”
    “Why, child, she waits, like any other woman. For a husband, for childbirth, for…”
    “You will attend Donna Lucrezia at her will, girl, that is all,” interrupted Donna Adriana.
    Believing our interview to be over, I waited to be dismissed, but before any more could be said, the double doors to the room were flung open, ushering in a blast of even colder air which set the flames dancing in the hearth. A messenger wearing a livery quartered in crimson velvet and gold satin strode down the length of the piano nobile as though he owned it. He bowed to the ladies, then handed Donna Lucrezia a parchment, folded and sealed. Her pale face flushed a delicate pink as she tore open the seal and read her letter.
    “It is an invitation to dine this afternoon,” she said to her aunt, though her flushed cheeks and shining eyes made it seem like something more. “Of course, we accept,” she told the messenger, who bowed again, and retreated. On his back, as he turned, I saw the letters C E S A R emblazoned in gold thread.
    Donna Lucrezia rose and handed her son to Catherinella. “Take him to the nursery. I must go and dress.”
    I stood also and waited to be dismissed.
    “Your father will hear from us,” Donna Adriana told me.
    “No, wait.” Donna Lucrezia turned to me. She looked quite feverish. “Esther, when is your baptism to be?”
    “I’m not sure yet, madonna.”
    “Then I will have my secretary speak to the dean at Santa Maria del Popolo to set a date. You will receive instruction from my chaplain from now on, and I will stand godmother to you. I should like you to take the name…Donata. Donata Spagnola.”
    “Yes, madonna. Thank you, madonna.” I made a deep curtsey, but she waved me away. As I rejoined my beaming father and we were escorted from the room, I heard Donna Lucrezia discussing gowns with her aunt.
    ***
    I should be ashamed to admit this, but dress, rather than the condition of my soul, was the matter which most vexed me as the date set for my baptism grew closer.
    Though I had not seen her since that first meeting a month previously, Donna Lucrezia was as good as her word. Her chaplain came daily to our house, edging his way through the courtyard door on the side farthest from the mezuzah, crossing himself and mumbling his prayers as he did so. Little Haim and I used to run up to the loggia on the roof to spy on these furtive arrivals, and my sides would still be aching with laughter when I was summoned to meet Fra Tommaso in the small sitting room where I received my instruction. He was a timid man, more afraid of the Almighty, it seemed, than joyful in His service. But I tried to be a good student, for my father’s sake, and because I could not forget that spark of understanding in Donna Lucrezia’s eyes when she looked at me.
    The day before the service was due to take place, the black slave, Catherinella, arrived at our gate, attended by a footman carrying a parcel of yellow silk fastened with ribbons. I could not wait to see what was inside. As soon as the slave had gone, I opened it, there in the vestibule, spreading the silk wrapping over the polished stone floor. I took out a beautiful missal, bound in red leather with silver corners and filigree clasps, then a white lawn baptismal gown, its wide sleeves and hem decorated with gold embroidery a foot deep, its lace collar as fine as cobwebs. To go with the gown was a cloak of white velvet, lined with the fur of winter foxes and with a clasp set with pearls at the neck. Mariam, loitering