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

Tempesta, the black devil. He has killed two men who tried to break him.”
    “Orione is also the foal of the gentlest, fairest mare in all Tuscany,” I countered.
    “That cannot wash clean the blood of Tempesta,” said Franco. “That horse is cursed. The colt never should have been born. You interfered with the will of God!”
    I shrugged. “If God really wanted that colt, he would have taken him, despite all I could do.”
    “You breathed life into a corpse. He will grow up to be just like his father. They say Tempesta eats human flesh, ripped right off the bodies of his victims—”
    “Shut up, brother! You are a cross-eyed simpleton,” said Lorenzo, clearing away his words with a slash of his hand.
    “If Tempesta ever jumps the wall to join his mares, he will tear our cousin here—or us!—to bloody shreds,” warned Franco, shaking his greasy finger at me.
    “The Contrada dell’Oca has built a wall so tall he cannot even see over it. He would break a leg before he could ever clear it,” I said. “That is ridiculous.”
    “I have seen his nostrils flared and red, raised above the wall,” said Franco. “Snorting his fury. You cannot confine the devil—or his curse.”
    “A curse?” scoffed Lorenzo. “Brother, I do not think it is a curse to have the Duchessa d’Elci beholden to you. Is that not right, Cousin Virginia?”
    “The duchessa is not beholden to anybody,” I said, irritated with both my cousins. I pulled up the muddied hem of my dress enough to stand.
    “Are you leaving so soon?” said Lorenzo, the corner of his eyes drooping with disappointment.
    “Thank you for the meal, cousins. I must return to the ewes. It will be dark soon.”
    “We’ll be watching out for you down there,” called Lorenzo. “Call out if you need us. And keep the fire burning through the night to chase away the wolves.”
    Franco said nothing. He turned to spit on the ground, and his dirt-caked hand made the sign of the cross.

    Orione sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring as they took in my scent. I could make out his eyes, gleaming with curiosity. He nickered a high-pitched call, shaking his head.
    As I approached the stone wall, he ran toward me at a full gallop. At first I thought the long legs churning under him would never stop, that he would crash into the stones and break a bone. But he pulled up just before the wall, darting off bucking and kicking at phantom challengers.
    I tied my ragged skirts in a knot and climbed the white stones. By this time, Stella had approached at a trot, whinnying.
    She seemed to be apologizing for her rude baby, dipping her head for me to stroke her neck.
    “Beautiful mare,” I murmured. “Bellissima.”
    She closed her eyes, delighting in the caress. I wondered if the duchessa petted her the way I did now. She tilted her head and let my fingers move up to scratch between her ears.
    I felt a warm puff of air on my back, then a nip.
    “Ow!” I said, whirling around. I slapped the colt’s nose and he reared back, snorting. Then he ran off, his tiny hooves churning up the loose earth.
    The milk teeth of the foal did not tear my dress, but I could feel a welt blossoming beneath the cloth. It stung and ached deeply, like my finger once did when it got pinched in the chain as I drew water from the well.
    Stella nuzzled against me, unconcerned that I had just smacked her foal.
    “You will have to teach him some manners,” I confided to her. After sulking for a few minutes, the black colt came back around.
    “What? Are you going to bite me again, just to show me how alive you are—thanks to me?”
    Orione shook his head, snorting.
    “Yes, you see how your mother likes to be petted,” I said, looking at the chestnut mare.
    Orione pushed against me, plucking at my hand with his lips.
    “If you bite me again, I will pummel you.” Tentatively I moved my hand from the mare’s neck to Orione’s. His skin prickled and fidgeted under my fingers. “Ticklish? You will get