The Birth of Venus by Sarah Dunant

Author:Sarah Dunant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781588364425
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2004-11-30T06:00:00+00:00

Twenty-five

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, GOD AND THE DEVIL FOUGHT it out in the streets of the city. Savonarola preached daily while gangs of young boys appeared as his warriors of the new church, chastising Florentines for their lack of piety and sending women home to keep their own counsel.

My sister Plautilla, on the other hand, who had always had a talent with appearances, chose this moment to surpass herself. Erila woke me at dawn on Christmas morning with the news. “There is a messenger from your mother’s house. Your sister gave birth this night to a baby girl. Your mother is with her now and will call on us on her way home.”

My mother. I had not seen her since my marriage six weeks before. While there had been times in my life when her love had felt strict and implacable, there was no one else who both understood my perversity and cared for me despite or even because of it. Yet this same woman now had a past that connected her with my husband and a son who had orchestrated his own sister’s downfall. By the time she arrived that afternoon, I had become almost frightened to see her. My fragility was not helped by the fact that my husband had left the night before and was not yet returned.

I welcomed her in the receiving room, like a good wife should, though the room felt cold and loveless compared with the one she had furnished with such grace. I stood up as she came in and we embraced. After we were seated she studied me with her usual eagle eye.

“Your sister sends her love. She is proud as a peacock and in excellent spirits. The baby is in good voice too.”

“Praise be to God,” I said.

“Indeed. And you, Alessandra? You look well.”

“I am.”

“And your husband?”

“He is well too.”

“I am sorry to miss him.”

“Yes . . . I am sure he will be back soon.”

She paused. “So. Things between you are . . .”

“—magnificent,” I said firmly.

I watched her register the rebuff and try again. “The house is very quiet. How do you spend your time?”

“I pray,” I said. “Just as you suggested. And to answer your next question, I am not pregnant yet.”

She smiled at my naïveté. “Well, I would not worry. Your sister was faster than many in that regard.”

“Did the baby come easily?”

“Easier than you,” she said gently, and the reference to my birth was, I know, an attempt to make me softer toward her. But I was having none of it.

“Maurizio will be a rich man today.”

“Indeed. Though no doubt he would have preferred a boy.”

“Still, he wagered four hundred florins on a girl. No heir, but a good start for a dowry. I must talk to Cristoforo about doing the same thing. When my time comes.”

I was pleased with myself for this sentence, for it sounded very like the way I thought a wife should talk.

My mother stared at me. “Alessandra?”

“Yes?” I said brightly.

“Is everything all right, my child?”

“Of course.

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