Free Madame Serpent by Jean Plaidy Page B

Will you take a nun, a bride of Christ, through the streets of Florence?’
    That was a clever stroke. They all knew it. Nuns were sacred, vowed to
    Christ; and it would not be easy to carry a struggling female, her head shorn and her dress proclaiming her to be a nun, through the streets of Florence.
    ‘We do not wish harm to befall you,’ said Aldobrandini. ‘We have men to
    defend you as we pass through the streets.
    Caterina, alert of mind, was quick to sum up the character of this
    Aldobrandini; he did not like the task which had been allotted to him. He was wavering.
    ‘I refuse to take off these clothes,’ said Caterina.
    The Reverend Mother said: ‘Good sir, leave her with me until morning. I
    will pray with her. She will then find in her heart the courage she needs.’
    To the astonishment of all, Aldobrandini agreed to wait until morning; and all that night the nuns of the Murate prayed for Caterina.
    The little procession rode silently through the city. Aldobrandini had chosen the quiet streets, but it did not take long for the news to spread. ‘They are taking the little Medici out of Florence. They seek to protect her.’
    Rough jests passed from hp to hp; obscene threats were murmured, then
    shouted.
    Aldobrandini wanted no violence. If anything happened to the girl now, he would be held responsible at a later date. Already Clement’s brief humiliation was over. He had made peace with the mighty Charles of Spain, who, for a consideration, was now his ally; and Florence was realizing her mistake in siding with France and England instead of with Spain.
    ‘Give us the Medici!’ shouted a voice. ‘Give to us the daughter of tyrants.
    Let her learn to suffer― as we have.’
    The hoarse cry was taken up. ‘Give us the Medici!’
    Caterina had need of all her courage, but her long training helped her to hide her fear, and she was glad of it now. She looked neither to right nor left; she sat her horse with haughty grace and seeming indifference to the snarling cry of the mob.
    Suddenly there was a rush, a flurry of blows and cries, and the ranks of her guards were broken. The little Medici was seen clearly for the first time.
    ‘It’s a nun!’ shouted a voice. ‘A holy nun!’
    ‘They’ve tricked us. They are not bringing the Medici this way. They have tricked us with a nun while she makes her escape.’
    Even now Caterina looked straight before her and continued to ride on as
    though what was happening about her was no concern of hers.
    There was a pause in the rush of the rabble, which gave her guards a chance to close around her again. The crowd fell back.
    ‘They’re tricking us!’ shouted a voice. ‘They’ve dressed her up as a nun!
    Come! Shall we allow them to trick us?’
    But the people were unsure; they were afraid to harm a bride of Christ.
    The fear in Caterina’s heart was replaced by triumph. She had formed a
    miracle no less than that Reverend Mother had with her cloak. She had saved herself from she knew not what― perhaps death itself. How wise, she told
    herself, to rely, not upon prayers, but on her own Medici wits.
    ―――――――
    A few months after that terrifying ride through Florence, Caterina was in Rome. Florence had surrendered; Clement was command, so he sent for his
    young kinswoman to join him; she was getting very near a marriageable age.
    How wonderful it was to meet Ippolito after all these years! How exciting to find him more handsome than ever, and that so was a change in his attitude towards her! She was no longer the little girl whose company he had enjoyed at the Medici Palace; she was nearly fourteen; she had lost that angularity of form and was budding into womanhood.
    Life had become miraculously pleasant once more. She had grown fond of
    her friends at the Murate, but how she enjoyed gaiety of Rome! There was
    another reason for pleasure: Alessandro was not in Rome; he had been installed in the Medici Palace in Florence, for Clement had kept his