The Shepherdess of Siena: A Novel of Renaissance Tuscany Read Online Free PDF

once, consenting.
    “We are going to ride in a carriage, Uncle!” I cried.
    “Grazie,” said Uncle Giovanni, grasping Brunelli’s hand. “You know what this means to my niece. And the honor—”
    “Nothing, my friend. This is for my goddaughter. But I will ask for shelter for the mare if we can make her stand and walk. You will help me.”
    The smith retrieved the horseshoe from the trough. He slapped the horse’s rump, raising a cloud of dust.
    “No shoes for you today ,” said my padrino. “I will finish the job tomorrow.”
    A hand clutched my arm, and I jumped. The red-haired Giorgio held me in his grasp. I stared at his color-splotched fingers.
    “Make an excuse for a minute, and come with me.”
    “What?”
    “Tell them you need to make water before you ride in the carriage. I will wait for you in the back stalls. It is important, ragazza ! Molto importante! ”
    I bit my lip. When I turned around again, he was gone.
    “Come, Virginia! Did you hear? We are to ride in the Duchessa d’Elci’s carriage!”
    “Yes, Zio! Oh, Zio, I am so excited. I must first excuse myself to—”
    “Ah, but of course, Virginia. Make haste!”
    I ran back to the mangers, where a line of horses was tethered to a rope.
    Giorgio seized me by the arm.
    “What are you doing?” I cried, squirming. “Let go of me!”
    “I am preparing you to meet the duchessa. You smell like sheep dung.”
    He wiped a sweaty rag over my face, neck, and chest. I smelt the tang and tasted the salt of horse sweat from the rubbing cloth. Horsehair stuck to my skin, my clothes, but the rag came away grimy with dirt, mutton grease, and soot.
    “The duchessa would not tolerate you for one minute in her presence, smelling like you do.”
    My eyes stung. I struck out at my assailant with my bony fists.
    He only chuckled as he dodged my struggling blows.
    “You are hot-blooded, Signorina Tacci,” he laughed. “But you do not realize the favor I do for you.”
    My fist tightened at his mocking use of signorina when I was only a commoner, a simple sora .
    “Leave me alone, you red-headed demon!”
    We heard my uncle’s voice.
    “Virginia! The duchessa awaits us!”
    The gamblers hooted and whistled.
    “Go, little Tacchina. But do not bore the duchessa with stories of sheep.”
    I spat at the flame-haired devil, then turned to run toward the stable door. I could hear him laughing behind me.

C HAPTER 6
    Siena, Pugna Hills
    J ANUARY 1573
    The duchessa moved as far away from us as she could. She was dressed in satins and velvet, with thick furs drawn up over her lap.
    Zio Giovanni wrung his cap in his hands and tried to bow inside the coach. He struck his head against the roof.
    The duchessa wrinkled her nose. She drew a lace handkerchief over her mouth and nose in disgust.
    “Puzza di pecore!” cried the duchessa. He stinks of sheep! “The peasant must ride outside the coach with my footman! Dio mio! ”
    Her attendant grabbed Zio by his elbow.
    “Come along, Virginia,” he said to me.
    “No,” said the Duchessa d’Elci. The pale nostrils pinched and flared. “The girl may accompany me. She stays.”
    My uncle stared, his mouth open wide.
    “Come on, villano ,” said the servant. “You will ride the footboard with me.”
    The footman closed the coach. We heard the two men scrambling up the back of the coach.
    The duchessa pulled the velvet curtains closed.
    “Sit close to the brazier, my child,” she said. “You must be chilled in that thin cloak.”
    I moved closer to the coals, glowing through perforations in the brass pan. I sighed in comfort.
    The duchessa stretched out her finger, touching my shepherd’s coat. Her hand drew back quickly as if it had been burnt.
    “Such scratchy wool! How can you bear such coarseness next to your young skin?”
    I shrugged. “It is all I have ever worn, Duchessa. I do not find it so rough.”
    “Are you the farrier’s daughter?” she asked.
    “No, I am the shepherd’s niece. My mother