Duchessina - A Novel of Catherine de' Medici (5 page)

Betta clapped her hands over my ears to shut out the gruesome images, but I shook her off.

The older priest took up the story in a breaking voice. “The invaders destroyed our ancient monuments and treasures. Wherever they found books, they burned them. If they discovered precious manuscripts, they tore them to shreds. They stabled their horses in the Sistine Chapel beneath Michelangelo's glorious ceiling.”

We listened without wanting to hear but were powerless to stop ourselves. Even Cardinal Passerini could not bring himself to turn away.

“When Pope Clement realized what was happening,” the young cleric said, “he fled through a secret passageway.”

This last bit of news struck the household like a lightning bolt. Cardinal Passerini's cruel mouth stretched in a grimace. “Lies! Slander!” he cried in a high, thin voice. “The Holy Father does not run from difficulties.”

The priests lapsed into silence, drained of emotion. Only then did most people begin to shuffle out of the courtyard, shaking their heads, unable to speak.

3

B
ETTA HALF DRAGGED
me toward the stairs. I hung back, peering over my shoulder, and observed the glances and whispered words exchanged between Passerini and my two cousins.
What is he telling them?
I wondered, stumbling along after Betta.

Soon the palazzo was quiet again, although I doubt that anyone was asleep—except Betta, who had resumed her throttled snoring. Wide awake, I crept from my bed, pulled a dress over my sleeping shift, and stole silently out of my bedroom.

This wasn't the first time I had left my apartment in the darkness of the midnight hours. Relying on the map in my head, I made my way from room to room, counting seventeen paces to the first door, twenty-two to the second, careful to avoid the large oak table; six more paces to the left brought me to the top of the stairs. Then I counted each stone step to the landing and continued on down until I arrived in the empty courtyard. Smoky torches in iron brackets threw shuddering splashes of light among long, shifting shadows.

Clinging close to the walls, I crept by the night guards dozing near the main portal. I moved through the shadows toward the second courtyard, hoping to overhear the conversations of sleepless servants. But as I passed the entrance to the passageway leading down to the stables, I saw that the door stood ajar. Curious, I peeked in, expecting to see the grooms tending to the exhausted horses ridden by the two priests from Rome. Instead, I saw three fresh horses saddled and ready for their riders: Cardinal Passerini's sorrel mount, Ippolito's gray stallion, and Alessandro's bay.
Are they leaving? What's going on?

Hearing voices, I slipped behind the door and out of sight. Ippolito rushed in, dressed for traveling, a long cloak over his tunic and a leather bag slung over his shoulder. I was too surprised to remain still. “Ippolito, where are you going?” I asked, stepping out of the shadows.

Startled, he swung around, dropping the leather bag. “Duchessina! What are you doing here?
Per favore
, go back to your apartment before the others come. The cardinal won't be pleased to find you.”

“Not until you tell me where you're going. And I don't give a fig if the cardinal isn't pleased!”

Ippolito looked exasperated, but he took both my hands in his and spoke gently “We must flee—Alessandro and I. Hatred of the Medici is growing by the hour. Passerini is afraid there will be an uprising, and the rabble will come after us. The cardinal is taking us away to his palazzo in Cortona, to wait until things are calmer here.”

“I, too, am a Medici,” I reminded him. “Surely I am in danger as much as you!” Suddenly I was angry at this cousin, whom I had adored until I saw him preparing to flee to safety, leaving me behind.
And more Medici than you,
I thought. In my anger I came close to saying the words that must not be said: that I was a true-born duchess and he was only a bastard. But I swallowed those words and said instead, “Why can't I go with you?” My lip was trembling, partly from fear, partly from fury.

Ippolito laughed, and I hated him for that. Then he knelt down, still holding my hands. “Dear little cousin,” he said, looking into my eyes. I felt myself weakening, the anger draining away, replaced by hurt. “It will be a long, hard ride, and you would be very unhappy, I'm certain. But don't worry—your aunt Clarissa will care for you,” Ippolito assured me. “You can depend on her. Soon we'll all be together again, and everything will work out for the best. You'll see, Duchessina!”

His brilliant smile brought back a rush of my feelings for him, and I wished that his horrible cousin and the dreadful Passerini would never come back.

Ippolito tenderly kissed my hand. “The others will arrive here at any moment,” he said, rising, “and they will be very angry to find you here.
Per favore,
Duchessina, go back to your bed and sleep well. I'm certain that our aunt will come for you tomorrow and make sure that you're out of harm's way and happy as well.”

“Couldn't Aunt Clarissa see to your safety also?” I asked.

Ippolito shook his head. I would have continued protesting, but I heard low voices in the courtyard and recognized Alessandro's sarcastic tone.

“Go now, Duchessina! At once!” Ippolito whispered urgently, and hurried to fasten the leather bag to the saddle of his horse.

I quickly hid myself behind a manger and watched resentfully as the three prepared to leave. A short time later Alessandro, Ippolito, and Passerini led their horses up the ramp from the stables and out through a side door. The hooves of the horses clattered on the paving stones. When the sound had faded away, I rushed back up to my room and flung myself, sobbing, onto my pillow.

I
MUST HAVE
slept a little, for the sun was already high when I heard shouting in the street and excited voices in the courtyard.

Betta hauled me out of bed, babbling, “Mistress, it's happening, the people have gone mad! A mob is forming at the gates!”

We dressed hurriedly and ran down to the courtyard, where there was much confusion. “Where's the cardinal?” the servants were shouting. “Has anyone seen him? He needs to speak to those at the gates. He must do something—but where is he?”

Their panic increased my own. Didn't they know yet that Cardinal Passerini had deserted us, left us to fend for ourselves?

The side door opened, the same door by which Passerini and my cousins had left, and Aunt Clarissa stepped in, followed by Minna, her slave, who slammed the door and bolted it. Immediately Clarissa measured the situation: There was no one in charge. “Where's Passerini?” she demanded.

I flung myself into her arms. “He's gone,” I whispered.

“Gone? Gone where?”

“Cortona.” I told her what I had seen in the stables a few hours earlier.

“Accursed coward, that Passerini!” she spat. “I'm not surprised. All right, we must act. No one will do it for us.”

Seizing the arm of the nearest manservant, a groom from the stables, Aunt Clarissa ordered him to carry a bench to the center of the courtyard and then to help her climb on it. “Stay close to me, Caterina,” she ordered, though I didn't need to be persuaded.

“Now listen to me, all of you,” Clarissa cried, her clear voice ringing in every corner of the courtyard. “Our beloved cardinal has departed, in order to save his own skin,” she said, her words dripping with scorn. “The young gentlemen, Ippolito and Alessandro, have accompanied him. Many of you may wish to follow their example, and you are free to do so. Others may choose to stay, and to you I entrust the care and protection of Palazzo Medici, which has been your home. It is my duty to see to the well-being of my niece,
la duchessina.
I intend to secure her safety, and then to return here as soon as I'm able. Have any of you anything to say?”

For a moment the crowd in the courtyard was silent, except for the shuffling of feet. Then the cook spoke up. “God go with you, mistress,” he boomed. “And with
la duchessina.
I for one intend to remain here, with my wife and children. We're loyal to the Medici. They've been good to us.”

The cook's fat wife and four stout daughters gathered around him. A few others—the head gardener, several kitchen helpers, and two of the grooms—moved to stand with him. But as we watched, several people edged toward the door; others wavered, heads down, eyes lowered. Outside the palazzo, the shouting grew louder and angrier, sending chills down my back.

“
Millegrazie,
” Clarissa said simply. “A thousand thanks.” She stepped down from the bench.

A guard, ashen faced, made his way to her side. “Signora, they're demanding to see the cardinal. I told them he's not here, and that made them even angrier. A few are beginning to call for
la duchessina.
” He glanced at me and quickly looked away “They want her brought out to them.”

“Hold them off as long as you can. If you must, tell them she'll come out soon.” Then Clarissa turned to a groom who had pledged his loyalty. “We'll need a cart and a donkey,” she told him. “Throw some straw in it and a few sacks of grain. A little dung, too, but not too much. Do you understand me?”

The groom bowed. “
Si, signora.
”

Clarissa led me up the stairs to my apartment. I obeyed, not daring to question her. Betta followed, wringing her hands. “Signora Strozzi,” she said in a breaking voice, “where are you going?”

“To Poggio a Caiano,” my aunt replied, mentioning the Medici villa in the hills outside of Florence. “Caterina should be safe enough there.”

“She maybe safe once she's there,” Betta said. “But the journey out of the city won't be safe for either of you unless you're disguised.” Betta suddenly became calm and businesslike. “Allow me to find you both suitable clothing and to accompany you. I'm sure you'll find me very useful.”

The furor beyond the palazzo walls was growing more intense. Fists pounded on the main portal. I shivered and fought back a sob. “All right,” Clarissa agreed. “Hurry.”

“Am I to come as well,
signora
?” asked Minna.

My aunt opened her mouth to reply, but Betta interrupted. “There is no way that country folk would have a black slave,” Betta bluntly told my aunt. “And no way I can disguise her.”

Clarissa thought a moment. “You must return to Palazzo Strozzi,” she instructed. “And tell Signor Strozzi I've gone to Poggio a Caiano with
la duchessina.
Assure him that I'll return as soon as it's safe.”

Betta helped my aunt exchange her fine clothing for one of Betta's plain smocks. If I hadn't been so frightened, I might have laughed at her transformation from noble lady to peasant woman. Betta disappeared to the servants' quarters while Clarissa packed a canvas bag with her silk gown and a few items for me. I clutched the little
cassone
in which I kept my mother's ruby cross and my father's gold ring.

My nurse reappeared, bringing a boy's tunic, trunk hose, and well-worn cloth cap. “You'll travel as a boy,” Betta said. “They won't be looking for a boy.”

With my hair pinned up under the cap, I was no longer recognizable as
la duchessina,
and I was so pleased with the disguise that I felt less afraid. The three of us hurried down to the stables. The groom had harnessed a donkey to a cart used for hauling everything from refuse headed for the dump to live pigs destined for the spit. I wrinkled my nose from the smell. I saw my aunt swallow hard. Betta, unperturbed, announced that she would drive the donkey.

Clarissa and I climbed into the cart and allowed the groom to pack baskets and sacks around us and buried the
cassone
deep in the straw. The groom flung open the door to the street and spoke up loudly enough for anyone around to hear.

“Get on with you now,” he said gruffly, “and don't be wasting any time or I'll make sure the master hears about it!”

“Ah, shut your mouth!” Betta retorted.

I was shocked to hear them speaking so rudely to each other, until I realized this was part of the disguise. Betta slapped the reins on the donkey's back, and we started off.

But not quickly enough. Several members of the mob saw the donkey cart and surrounded it. “Where do you think you're going, old hag?” one of the men shouted, his red face shoved close to Betta's.

Betta hurled back an insult, and I raised my fist and made a gesture that I had seen the servant boys make when they didn't know I was present. I had no notion what it meant, but the red-faced man did. He bellowed something, spit flying from his lips. Betta goaded the donkey into a brisk trot. Soon we were free of the rabble and rattling toward the city gates. Only two young guards stood duty at the tower. They caught a whiff of our rank load and waved us through without bothering to ask any questions. The odor was enough to put an end to their inquiry.