The Red Lily Crown by Elizabeth Loupas

Author:Elizabeth Loupas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Palazzo Pitti

6 JANUARY 1577

It had been hard to face Magister Ruanno at first, after that dark solitary hour in the bookshop’s cellar. Did the sonnodolce increase the power of visions and fancies, bring hidden ones out into the light? Chiara felt as if she had broken her vow in truth, given herself to him, taken him, exposed herself to him with all the gasping intimacies of the flesh. If he noticed she was clumsy and tongue-tied in his presence, he said nothing.

She had brought Tommaso Vasari’s book back to the laboratory and hidden it in the simplest possible way—by putting it in the cabinet with all the other books. She had also continued putting one drop of the poison on her wrist every seven days, alternating from one wrist to the other, choosing a different spot each time. Each time she felt desire for him. Was it the sonnodolce, or was it her own newly sensitized thoughts, feeding upon themselves? Surely he was using his tiny vial just as she was using hers. She wondered what, if anything, he desired, and wished she had the courage to ask him.

On Christmas Eve, the grand duchess had announced officially to her husband, with the support of her physicians, priests, and ladies, that she was once again with child. The city had exploded with delight, and the twelve days of Christmastide had been joyous like no other holiday Chiara had ever seen. Bianca Cappello was hated in Florence, by every woman, certainly, from the grand duchess herself to the humblest washerwoman. Her much-vaunted son was a changeling, of course—even arrests and whippings in the street hadn’t been enough to stop the whispers. What woman is suddenly fertile again, at the age of twenty-eight, after ten years as a barren mistress? Cold and unpopular the Austrian grand duchess may be, but at least she bore her own children. The city hummed with prayers for a half-Imperial son, to put Bianca Cappello’s long Venetian nose out of joint once and for all. The Epiphany night celebration at the Palazzo Pitti was the glittering culmination of the holiday delights.

“I wish you a holy Epiphany, Signorina Chiara.”

It was Cardinal Ferdinando de’ Medici, the grand duke’s brother, with his fleshy lips and his smoldering carnal eyes. He was robed in scarlet silk so heavily embroidered with gold thread, sapphires and amethysts that he might have been one of the Three Kings himself. Chiara knelt with every appearance of deference and kissed the ring he extended. His plump white hand smelled of musk, vanilla and cloves.

“Thank you, sua Eminenza Illustrissima e Reverendissima,” she said, as she straightened. She would show him she had learned the proper way to address a prince of the church from a noble family. “Allow me to wish you a holy and joyful Epiphany as well.”

“The processions were spectacular, were they not?” He gestured to the two priests who attended him, and with reverent bows they withdrew.

Why was he making an effort to

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