The Devil's Queen: A Novel of Catherine De Medici Read Online Free PDF

hard.
    Her features contorted in a spasm of grief, and sudden tears—diamonds caught in candlelight—rained onto her cheeks and bosom. The impossible had occurred: Aunt Clarice was crying.
    “Damn them
all,
” she said. “They’re idiots, every one. Just like my father, who lost this city through sheer stupidity. And now I’ll lose it, too.”
    Filippo put a hand upon her shoulder and waited patiently for her to calm herself. Once she had, he brushed away her tears and asked softly, “You will talk to them, then?”
    She gave a helpless little wave. “What else can I do?” She let go a deep sigh, then reached out and stroked Filippo’s cheek with a bitter, fleeting smile. He caught her hand and kissed it with genuine tenderness.
    Clarice’s smile vanished abruptly. “I’ll negotiate with no one but Capponi himself,” she said. “You’ll have to find him tonight—tomorrow morning will be too late. By then, there will be bloodshed.”
    “Tonight,” Filippo echoed. “I’ll see to it.”
    “We meet on
my
terms,” Clarice said. “I’ll write it down; I’ll have no misunderstanding.” She gave Filippo a meaningful look. “You already know my condition.”
    “Clarice,”
he said, but she put a finger to his lips.
    “They won’t hurt me, Lippo. It’s not me they want. When it’s all over, I’ll join you.”
    “I won’t leave you without protection,” Filippo said.
    “I’ll have it,” she countered. “The best kind—better than soldiers. Tomorrow,the astrologer’s son is coming—the magician, Cosimo. I’ll meet with him before I see Capponi.”
    Filippo recoiled. “Cosimo Ruggieri? Benozzo’s black-hearted boy?”
    “He
knew,
Lippo. He knew the hour and the day that Clement would fall. He tried to warn me weeks ago, but I wouldn’t listen. Well, I’m listening now.”
    “Clarice, they say he conjures demons, that he—”
    “He knew the hour and the day,” she interrupted. “I cannot dismiss such an ally.”
    Filippo remained troubled. “I will still make sure you have the best men and arms.”
    Clarice graced him with a cold, sly smile. “I have the best insurance of all, Lippo. I have the heirs.” She rose and took her husband’s hand. “Come. I need quill and paper. Capponi must have my letter tonight.”
    Uncle Filippo followed her out. I crawled out from my hiding place, but lingered in the chapel.
    He knew. He knew the hour and the day.
    If Ser Cosimo had been able to convince Clarice of his knowledge weeks earlier, could Pope Clement have been warned? Even more: Had my mother been warned that mine would be a difficult birth, would she not have consulted a physician earlier? Might my father have been warned to see to his health? Might both their lives have been spared?
    Surely God would have wanted to spare the Pope and my parents. Surely He would not condemn a frightened child for seeking safety, even if it lay in the arms of a man who spoke to devils.
    There are things we must discuss, unhappy secrets.
    I stared up at Gaspar, the King of the East, young and glorious astride his white mount. He did not hold my attention long; it was the boy Lorenzo who captivated me—an ugly, lonely, brilliant child, forced by fate to grow shrewd before his time. Lorenzo, who ignored all others and kept his gaze intently focused on the Magus.
     
    The next morning I woke to the sounds of a household unbearably alert but subdued. The usual lilts of servants’ voices had become terse whispers; theirsteps were muted. I could not even hear the cook and scullery maid banging pots and dishes in the kitchen.
    Ginevra dressed me hurriedly and left. I should have gone directly down to breakfast—but I knew that the chambermaids would already be busy at their tasks, so I headed to their empty bedroom. I dragged a stool to the window, stepped up, and looked down.
    The composition of the crowd had changed. The day before had brought unarmed merchants and peasants. Today the men were highborn and