Read Online The Shepherdess of Siena: A Novel of Renaissance Tuscany by Linda Lafferty - Free Book Online

will run for help. My padrino Brunelli can—”
    We heard the hard beat of galloping hooves approaching, the snorting of a horse.
    “Isabella! Are you within?” said a gruff voice.
    “Help me,” she whispered. “I want to stand. I shall not let him see me in distress.”
    She leaned her weight on me. As soon as we reached the threshold, she walked on her own, facing three nobili on horseback.
    “Yes, I am here.”
    As we emerged from the flapping canvas door of the lambing shed, I saw a dozen or more men on brilliantly liveried horses. One led Isabella’s horse by the reins.
    “We shall speak later, Isabella,” said a bearded man dressed in velvet. His horse pranced under him. His face was dark with anger, his shoulders as rigid as Brunelli’s anvil.
    Ah! I thought. Granduca Francesco de’ Medici!
    “Groom!” Isabella said, ignoring her brother. “Was my horse injured in the fall?”
    “No, Your Highness,” answered one of the entourage. “The horse is unharmed. You may ride him back to Quattro Torra.”
    As they brought the gelding to her, she ran her open hand down his legs, checking for swelling and wounds. The gilded brocade of her sleeves shone as she moved around to feel all four legs, her fingers gently squeezing the tendons and fetlocks.
    “Mount, Isabella!” snapped the bearded man. “Leave that to the stablemaster.”
    Four attendants dismounted to help the de’ Medici princess remount her horse.
    As they boosted her up into the saddle, I saw blood seeping into the satin of her beautiful skirt.
    Granduca Francesco broke the silence.
    “What led you to commit such a foolish act? You could have broken your neck.”
    Isabella turned in the saddle, as if to respond to her brother’s harsh words. Then she groaned, clutching her belly.
    “Are you all right, sister?” asked Ferdinando. “Are you hurt?”
    Isabella lifted her head only enough to regard him.
    “I am afraid the fall may have injured the child, brother.”
    “What child?” demanded Francesco. “Do you mean to tell me you are hunting while carrying Paolo Orsini’s child?”
    “ My child,” said Isabella through clenched teeth. “Get me back to the castle. I will hunt no more today.”
    All three brothers stared in horror at the white pallor of her face.

C HAPTER 10
    Florence, Pitti Palace
    J ANUARY 1573
    Whether carried by Isabella’s ladies in waiting, her laundress, the stable attendants, or the huntsman, the news spread to every corner of Florence. The butchers spoke tragically of a “lost prince” as they hacked a chop from a pig’s carcass. The herbmonger swore she could have prevented the loss had only the de’ Medici consulted her for a tonic. The silk traders whispered that a fortune of embroidered cloth was ruined with bloodstains.
    Inevitably the news reached her father, the Granduca of Tuscany. Cosimo de’ Medici admonished her gently, for he loved his daughter more than anyone in the world.
    “Cara, you have wrested a grandchild from my loving breast! You should not hunt, but be in confinement during these days—”
    “Confinement!” said Isabella. “You sound like Francesco, fettered with caution. Not the man I know, Papa.”
    Cosimo took his daughter’s hand, caressing it. “And what man is that?”
    “The man whose father, astride a prancing horse, ordered a nurse to throw his baby son from the second-story window into his arms. The one who—as that tiny baby—smiled and cooed, without the slightest fear, when his father caught him.”
    Old Cosimo smiled. The story was legendary, reflecting the courage he would show throughout his life.
    “My father was proud of me that day.” His smile widened.
    “ ‘ This baby is indeed my son, ’ ” Isabella reminded him, mimicking the words of her grandfather, the great Giovanni dalle Bande Nere. “ ‘ And he shall be like me: afraid of nothing from birth! The grandson of the Tigress of Forli, Caterina Sforza— ’ ”
    Cosimo pressed his