Free The Shepherdess of Siena: A Novel of Renaissance Tuscany by Linda Lafferty

his attention riveted on his daughter.
    “Tell me more about your shepherdess, my dear.”
    Isabella smiled, content that her father paid her such rapt attention. She saw Francesco glowering at her.
    “Her name is Virginia—Rucci? No, Tacci,” said Isabella. “She saw me jump a fallen tree and was mad with admiration.”
    “Jumping!” said Francesco. “With child!”
    “She said that she had recently met the Contessa d’Elci,” continued Isabella, her voice rising to cut off her brother and any mention of her pregnancy.
    “Duchessa Lucrezia? Davvero?” said the old granduca, his eyes sparkling.
    Isabella and Francesco glared at one another, while the granduca—perhaps noticing the tension and anger, perhaps not—went on with an eager smile.
    “Now, Isabella. Tell me more about the charming Duchessa d’Elci.”

C HAPTER 12
    Siena, Pugna Hills
    F EBRUARY 1573
    From the day Orione was born, I wanted to be at his side.
    The first night he returned to the pastures, I packed my sheepskin coat and coarse wool blanket to sleep in the lambing shed, where I was so often sent to care for the aging ewes.
    “You seem eager to sleep away from our roof,” said Zia Claudia. “Perhaps there is a boy you meet in secret.”
    I stared at her, incredulous.
    A boy? What boy could have the charm of Orione?
    “The field ewes’ pens border the horse pasture, Claudia,” said Zio. “Leave the girl alone. She is crazy for the new colt, nothing more.”
    “A colt?” said Zia Claudia, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Huh! She may be turning sly in her womanly ways at an early age. I do not want her ruined. She and the tanner’s son—”
    “I want to be with Orione,” I said, glaring at her. “He is more important than any stupid boy.”
    Zio Giovanni smiled, stroking my matted hair.
    “It is an innocent love, Claudia. The love of a girl and a horse. I will have her cousin Lorenzo camp with the sheep on the hill above. She can eat a warm supper with the boys, then sleep in the lambing sheds. I will make it clear to Lorenzo that his duties include caring for her, as a matter of family honor.”
    Although I am certain that Claudia hated losing this argument, I suspect she was relieved to have me out from underfoot. She had long begrudged me space in the tiny cottage, pushing my straw pallet under the window where the winter draughts chilled my bones.
    I thought of what Zio Giovanni said. It is an innocent love, Claudia. The love of a girl and a horse.
    Innocent, yes. But ardent—the love I had for Orione burned as bright and fierce as any emotion that had ever seized my heart.

    I ate greasy mutton stew and shepherd’s bread for dinner with my two cousins. Their filthy hands pulled at the bread, stuffing it into their mouths with their muddy knuckles. They chewed with their mouths open, swilling down the food with sour red wine that stank like the vinegar Brunelli used to clean horse wounds.
    Shepherds lived a rough life, rarely bathing or sleeping. The cold ground, the coarsest wool blankets, and meager rations were all my cousins knew.
    “You helped Cesare Brunelli save the Oca colt,” said Lorenzo. I watched the white dough and cheese tumble about in his open mouth, his tongue pushing the food over his uneven teeth.
    “I helped the foal to breathe,” I said.
    “There’s they who say you are a witch,” said Franco, Lorenzo’s younger brother. He narrowed his eyes to slits, staring at me. “That you delivered the devil’s horse that night, that by all rights he should have died.”
    I pulled my scratchy blanket around my shoulders, feeling a chill trace my spine. I had never liked Franco. He was sixteen and stank of sheep dung and meanness. His eyes were set so close together that they looked crossed.
    “Shut up, Franco,” said Lorenzo. “Do not mind him, Cousin Virginia. He is always seeing the evil instead of the grace of God.”
    Franco’s mouth twisted, the light in his eyes flat. “That colt is sired by