The Stone Witch of Florence by Anna Rasche

Author:Anna Rasche [Rasche, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction & Fantasy, Medieval, Fiction, Witches, Italy, Mystery, Magical Realism
ISBN: 9780369749840
Publisher: Park Row Books
Published: 2024-08-19T15:16:10+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

TORRE GIROLAMI

Afternoon, July 8th of 1348,

Torre Girolami

Nobody knew how long the Girolami had lived in Florence, but it might as well have been since the beginning of time. Their tower was in the oldest part of the city, near the Ponte Vecchio. The structure itself was already a relic of another age, built when the magnate families fought openly in the streets and then ran back into their personal fortresses to shoot each other with arrows from the rooftops. Now, though, the city was a place for fat merchants, not hardened warlords. The outdated towers were eyesores, and it was forbidden to build any more of them. Most families had moved on, chopping off the tops of their towers and renovating them into more comfortable modern palazzos. But the Girolami remained in their ancestral home, its archaic form a testament to the longevity of their clan.

Ginevra had hurried past this tower many times during her years at Sant’Elisabetta, but never paid it much attention. Now, as she stood at the locked door, she was struck by the oppressive gloominess of the massive gray stone structure. It was square and narrow, high as a bell tower. She had to bend her head all the way back to see the top. The door was as small as the building was large. She banged on it, then stepped back, afraid of her own boldness. Nothing.

She shouted, “Hello,” up at the small windows that perforated the tower in a vertical line.

Nothing.

They are dead already, she thought.

“Hey!! You!”

Ginevra jumped and looked up at the tower, but the windows remained shut.

“Hey! Over here, stupid woman!”

She spun around. It was a neighbor—poking his head out of his own window. “I wouldn’t try so hard to get in there if I were you,” he said. “The whole family is nearly dead.”

“Did you say nearly dead? As in, still alive?”

“That’s not the part I would focus on. The lord and master is cold and carried away.”

“So I have heard—but I have urgent business with his widow and must be admitted.”

The neighbor spit out his window. “See to it that you shut the door quickly and open it only slightly. I’ll not be made ill by them.”

Ginevra returned her attention to the door. It fit so perfectly against its frame she could not even get her fingernails around the edge. She heard a little creak from above, and saw a small child poking her head out some forty feet above the street. Ginevra smiled and waved at her, motioning for her to come down. The child disappeared immediately and was gone for so long Ginevra thought she had scared her away. Of course, anyone inside would know not to open the door for shouting strangers. But fortune was with her, and after some minutes of creaking gears and jangling chains, the door opened a crack and the child peeked out. She was about five years old and wearing only her shift of the finest linen that was very dirty.

Ginevra put her hand into the opening quickly, before the girl could shut it again, and eased her way in.

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