The Contessa's Vendetta Read Online Free PDF Page B

the most. I shaded it from any draughts with my hand, cast a parting glance at the daylight that shone temptingly through the iron grate, and descended back into the murkiness.
    Lizards slithered away as I descended the steps. The moment the candle flame permeated the darkness, I heard the flurry of wings and a feral cry. Hideous creatures lived in this house of the dead, but armed with my light, I had the confidence to defeat them all. My descent seemed so short compared to my climb in the impenetrable dark, and I soon found myself back in the vault’s depths.
    Now I could see. High walls enclosed the small room. Horizontal niches in the wall, one above the other, held narrow caskets containing my ancestors’ bones. I held the candle high above my head and looked around with morbid curiosity until I found what I sought – my own coffin.
    It lay in a niche five feet from the ground, its fractured wood proof of my struggle to free myself. I advanced for a closer look. It was a flimsy box, unlined, of plain wood, and shoddily crafted. Thank goodness it had been so poorly made , otherwise I might never have escaped from it.
    I peered inside. Something shone from within – an ebony and silver crucifix. The good monk must have laid it on my breast before they closed me into the coffin. My heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. In my struggle to free myself, the cross must have dropped off my chest. I raised it to my lips, kissed it, and made up my mind that if I ever met the monk again, I would tell him my tale, and show him the cross as proof of my ordeal. I had no doubt he would recognize it.
    Had they put my name on the coffin lid? I leaned closer to look. There it was, painted on the wood in coarse, black letters . CARLOTTA MANCINI. The date of my birth followed it and then a short Latin inscription stating that I had died of the plague on August 15, 1631. Only Saturday, yet an eternity seemed to have passed since then.
    I turned to my father ’s resting place. The velvet pall over his coffin had begun to disintegrate. Next to him, was another coffin covered with a worm-eaten, frayed cloth upon which I lay my palm. This was my mother’s coffin; she who had given me life, who had first embraced me and from whose loving arms I first beheld the world. I recalled my mother’s portrait that hung in the dining hall of my villa. The artist had captured her in full youth; a light-haired beauty, whose delicate complexion was as lovely as a ripening peach against the summer sun. Now, all that loveliness lay in this damp hole, decaying into bone and dust. I shuddered at the thought.
    I knelt in front of my parent ’s desolate stone niches and prayed for their blessing. While I prayed, the candlelight caught a small object glittering on the ground. I leaned over to retrieve it. A thick, golden chain upon which hung a pendant of a ship, dangled from my fingers. Its fine artistry and intricate details astonished me. Only the most talented of goldsmiths could have created such an ornament, likely for some nobleman, for there was nothing feminine about this piece. Upon its masts, flew sails painted with white enamel and studded with pearls. Sapphires, rubies, and diamonds decorated it from bow to stern. I clutched it in my hand and glanced about to discover where the treasure could have come from.
    An unusually large coffin lay sideways , toppled on the ground. I lowered the candle to the ground and observed a vacant but damaged niche below the one where my own coffin had been. I recalled that when I had broken free, I had heard a crash. It must have been this coffin, big enough to contain a huge man, that had fallen. What ancestor had I dislodged? Had the rare jewel in my hand come from a skeleton’s throat?
    Curious, I bent to examine the lid of the enormous casket. It bore no name and no mark except for a stiletto roughly painted in black. I had never seen this casket in the vault before. How had it come to be here? Eager to learn