Read Online The Serpent and the Pearl (A Novel of the Borgias) by Kate Quinn - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Quinn
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me, lifting a hand to his face—I saw just how dark and glittering his eyes were, and all my rage turned to horror. Oh, Holy Virgin, I’d just struck a man of God—a
cardinal,
no less—
Then he threw his head back and laughed.
“Stop laughing!” I stamped my foot on the garden path, and then wished I hadn’t because I felt like a child. “Nobody should be laughing after I hit them! I have three brothers and a sister who hates me; I
know
how to slap!” A red mark was already rising very nicely on his cheek.
“Indeed you do,” the Cardinal choked, still laughing. “But dear God in heaven, I haven’t been slapped by a pretty girl in decades, and I didn’t realize how I’d missed it. Almost enough to make me feel young again. I’m sixty-one,” he added, “if you’re wondering.”
“I’m not wondering anything except how to get out of this—this den of vice!” I was trembling head to toe, under my heavy white and gold skirts. “Did my husband know about this arrangement, or did you cook up some crisis to take him away?”
“Of course he knew. He was well paid, too. Though he probably regretted the bargain, once he saw what he was giving up.”
“Bargain—when did you
make
this bargain? I’ve only met you yesterday!”
“On the contrary; we’ve met half a dozen times. Clerics all look the same to girls with their eyes on the young gallants.” He ran a hand over his dark hair with its bare dent of a tonsure, rueful. “You came to Rome last winter, when your brother Angelo was looking for a wife. Probably he was hoping to show you off as well; get the bidding started. I saw you at Mass, oh, at least a dozen times. Shall we say that you stood out? I once lost an entire sermon contemplating your profile.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. My insides churned in fright, but I was not going to let him see that. “And you thought, just by watching me a few times in church, that I would be willing to be your—plaything?”
“Watch ten girls of marriageable age at Mass,” he said, and his ringed hands sketched the scene in a few eloquent gestures. “Two will listen with great attention—genuinely pious.” He tilted his head down; suddenly the picture of a demure young girl. “Five more will listen with false attention, because their mothers told them a show of their devout and hopefully pretty profile is the best way to get a husband.” He gazed ahead, a rapt acolyte with just a dart of the eye looking for watchful suitors. “Two more will listen with no attention, because their mothers aren’t watching them closely enough.” A hand raised to the mouth, a whisper and a titter. “And one girl out of ten will make no pretense of listening no matter what her mother says, merely sit with her eyes sparkling and her thoughts turned in on some tremendously entertaining secret. That is the girl who will leave the church in uncontrollable fits of laughter when a priest with a cold sneezes on the Host before elevating it.” He straightened, looking at me. “That is the only girl worth watching.”
“What a talent for mime,” I said rudely. “You should have been a mountebank instead of a cardinal. One of those charlatans who uses stage tricks to sell quack potions.”
“In many ways a churchman is a mountebank,” he said, unruffled. “You know how many stage tricks we use at Mass? Don’t go crossing yourself; I suspect a girl who can laugh at the elevation of the Host without fearing for her immortal soul already has a fine appreciation for theatre.”
He touched a curl by my cheek with one fingertip. I scowled, lifting a hand in warning, and he shook his head at me benignly. “You get one slap for free, my dear, but not two.”
I lowered my hand, swallowing around the thickness in my throat. “So you saw me, you wanted me, you decided to have me? It’s so simple as that, Your Eminence?”
“Desire is the simplest thing on earth,” he returned. “Every man in the church wanted you
cardinal,
no less—
Then he threw his head back and laughed.
“Stop laughing!” I stamped my foot on the garden path, and then wished I hadn’t because I felt like a child. “Nobody should be laughing after I hit them! I have three brothers and a sister who hates me; I
know
how to slap!” A red mark was already rising very nicely on his cheek.
“Indeed you do,” the Cardinal choked, still laughing. “But dear God in heaven, I haven’t been slapped by a pretty girl in decades, and I didn’t realize how I’d missed it. Almost enough to make me feel young again. I’m sixty-one,” he added, “if you’re wondering.”
“I’m not wondering anything except how to get out of this—this den of vice!” I was trembling head to toe, under my heavy white and gold skirts. “Did my husband know about this arrangement, or did you cook up some crisis to take him away?”
“Of course he knew. He was well paid, too. Though he probably regretted the bargain, once he saw what he was giving up.”
“Bargain—when did you
make
this bargain? I’ve only met you yesterday!”
“On the contrary; we’ve met half a dozen times. Clerics all look the same to girls with their eyes on the young gallants.” He ran a hand over his dark hair with its bare dent of a tonsure, rueful. “You came to Rome last winter, when your brother Angelo was looking for a wife. Probably he was hoping to show you off as well; get the bidding started. I saw you at Mass, oh, at least a dozen times. Shall we say that you stood out? I once lost an entire sermon contemplating your profile.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. My insides churned in fright, but I was not going to let him see that. “And you thought, just by watching me a few times in church, that I would be willing to be your—plaything?”
“Watch ten girls of marriageable age at Mass,” he said, and his ringed hands sketched the scene in a few eloquent gestures. “Two will listen with great attention—genuinely pious.” He tilted his head down; suddenly the picture of a demure young girl. “Five more will listen with false attention, because their mothers told them a show of their devout and hopefully pretty profile is the best way to get a husband.” He gazed ahead, a rapt acolyte with just a dart of the eye looking for watchful suitors. “Two more will listen with no attention, because their mothers aren’t watching them closely enough.” A hand raised to the mouth, a whisper and a titter. “And one girl out of ten will make no pretense of listening no matter what her mother says, merely sit with her eyes sparkling and her thoughts turned in on some tremendously entertaining secret. That is the girl who will leave the church in uncontrollable fits of laughter when a priest with a cold sneezes on the Host before elevating it.” He straightened, looking at me. “That is the only girl worth watching.”
“What a talent for mime,” I said rudely. “You should have been a mountebank instead of a cardinal. One of those charlatans who uses stage tricks to sell quack potions.”
“In many ways a churchman is a mountebank,” he said, unruffled. “You know how many stage tricks we use at Mass? Don’t go crossing yourself; I suspect a girl who can laugh at the elevation of the Host without fearing for her immortal soul already has a fine appreciation for theatre.”
He touched a curl by my cheek with one fingertip. I scowled, lifting a hand in warning, and he shook his head at me benignly. “You get one slap for free, my dear, but not two.”
I lowered my hand, swallowing around the thickness in my throat. “So you saw me, you wanted me, you decided to have me? It’s so simple as that, Your Eminence?”
“Desire is the simplest thing on earth,” he returned. “Every man in the church wanted you
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