When she knocked on his door, there was no answer, so she went in. There were some books on the table, but no sign of Ippolito. He would come soon, she was sure; and she felt at peace. She need not be afraid of Alessandro while Ippolito was in the palace.

And then suddenly she heard the swish of a curtain; she turned with a joyful smile of welcome on her lips, and there, peeping between the curtains which he grasped with his ugly hands, grinning at her, was the hideous face of Alessandro.

She jumped up and gave a little cry of horror; but Alessandro did not look angry; he was smiling; he put a finger to his lips. ‘It is a surprise I have for you, Duchessina.’

She stammered, ‘I― I had not thought to see you here.’

‘No? You thought to find handsome Ippolito. But there are some, Caterina, in this palace, who think me as handsome as Ippolito.’

She gripped the table. She wanted to run, but her legs seemed to have lost their power. Yet she could not control her tongue. She had not really learned those lessons which the Cardinal and her aunt had taken such pains to teach her.

She cried out: ‘Then they say so because they dare say nothing else. You force them to lie.’

He advanced slowly towards her. ‘You are not pleased to see me, Caterina,’

he said mockingly. ‘It was to be a surprise. A most happy surprise. I have something to show you.’ He took the figure from his pocket and held it up.

‘Where did you get this, Caterina?’

She kept her lips tightly shut.

‘Answer me,’ he said slowly. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘I shall never tell you,’ she said, and she smiled suddenly. He was afraid of the magicians, so he would not dare try his tricks on Bartolo or the boys.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘You are so fond of me that you wanted an image of me, that you might look at it when I was absent. Never mind now. Come with me, and see what else I have to show you.’

She knew now that she was about to suffer Alessandro’s revenge; she had known it must come because Alessandro never failed to take revenge. He drew aside the curtain and as she approached, he pointed to the floor. There lay the body of Fedo. It was stiffening, but the legs were contorted and she knew that Alessandro had poisoned the dog in a way calculated to give the maximum of suffering to the poor animal.

Caterina sank on to her knees and touched Fedo’s body. Tears came to her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She sobbed bitterly. Alessandro stood very still, smiling at her.

‘Most unseemly!’ he murmured. ‘What would Aunt Clarissa say if she could see Caterina now?’

Caterina lifted her reddened eyes to his jeering face; and then suddenly she lost control as she never had before. She forgot everything but that her beloved dog had been cruelly done to death by this wicked boy.

She flew at him; she did what she had often longed to do. She kicked him; she bit him; she pulled at that stiff, ugly black hair. She screamed: ‘I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!’

That Alessandro stood calmly laughing at her she did not notice; she was blinded by her rage.

A woman came running in. Alessandro said: ‘Bring the Cardinal or my lady.

The Duchessina has gone mad.’

And still he stood there calmly, though it was not his nature to be calm; and he smiled at the blood which was flowing from the wound her teeth had made in his hand.

‘She has sharp teeth, this savage Duchessina!’ he murmured as though to himself.

And then, suddenly, Caterina was aware of the tall figure of the Cardinal and with him her aunt, Clarissa Strozzi. Caterina turned from Alessandro and looked at them in horror. The Cardinal’s tired eyes in his cadaverous face expressed disbelief of what those eyes had witnessed; but Clarissa Strozzi was never at a loss for words.

‘Caterina Maria Romola de’ Medici!’ she said. ‘I would not have believed, after all our care, that you could behave thus.’

Caterina saw that on Alessandro’s face was the same shocked expression as was on those of her aunt and the Cardinal. She burst out angrily: ‘But― he poisoned my dog― my little Fedo. He poisoned Fedo― most cruelly. He is too much of a coward to hurt me, so he hurts my little dog―’ Her voice broke and she began to cry miserably.

‘Be silent!’ commanded Clarissa. ‘Let us hear no more of this. Go to your room at once. There you will stay until summoned.’

Caterina, only too glad to escape, ran from the room. Miserable and bewildered, she did not stop running until she reached her own apartment.

Guido greeted her and she fell upon him weeping bitterly. He licked her face; the loss of Fedo was his well as hers.


* * *

Caterina was summoned to the apartments of the Cardinal, and taken to that room which was like a cell in its austerity. Not the Cardinal made much personal use of this room; it was kept for occasions such as this; the rest of the Cardinal’s apartments were sumptuously furnished, as fit for a man of his rank.

On chairs that were like thrones sat the Cardinal, Clarissa Strozzi and Caterina. Caterina’s feet did not touch the floor, her face was solemn and expressionless. She dared show no emotion, for Aunt Clarissa’s eyes would be upon her until this ordeal was over. On the floor Guido lay stretched out. He had just eaten what had been given to him, and he was there that his mistress might watch his death agonies. This was her punishment. She had loved her dogs; she had loved then much that she had been trapped into a low-bred display of violent emotion. So now, she must watch, unmoved, the terrible suffering of a beloved friend.

Caterina knew what was in Aunt Clarissa’s mind. This was the necessary lesson. All emotion must be suppressed, for emotion was childish. Caterina must be made to realize that there was only one thing that really mattered in her life― the advancement of a great and noble house. Alessandro was responsible for this trouble, but, in Aunt Clarissa’s mind, Alessandro, the bastard of very uncertain parentage, was of no importance whatever. He could be ignored, while Caterina must learn her lessons.

Poor Guido! He was beginning to suffer cruelly now. Caterina wanted to scream: ‘Stop! Stop! Kill him quickly. Do not let him suffer like this. Hurt me― but not Guido. What has Guido done?’

Be still! she admonished herself. She pressed her lips tightly together. Show nothing . Oh, foolish little Caterina, if you had not shown Alessandro that you cared for your dogs he would not have thought of hurting you through them; if you had hidden your feelings about Fedo’s murder, Guido would now be in your arms, not lying there in agony. Silly Caterina! At least learn your lesson now. They watch you now: Aunt Clarissa, who has no feeling but determination that a great house shall continue great; the Cardinal, who cares for nothing but that he keeps the goodwill of the Medici. If she showed emotion now it would be her favourite horse next. She must not cry. She must watch this horror; she might be wretched, heartbroken, but she must show nothing.

She sat clenching her hands; she was white and her lips trembled a little; but the eyes that were lifted to Aunt Clarissa’s face were dry and devoid of expression. Aunt Clarissa was satisfied.


* * *

With their attendants, Caterina, Alessandro, and Ippolito made the long and tedious journey through Tuscany to Rome. Florence and Venice might be the most beautiful of Italian cities, but Rome was the proudest. The Eternal City!

How grand it seemed, how noble set upon the seven hills, surrounded by the purple slopes, the rocky Apennines on one side, and on the other the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.

The Holy Father wished to receive the younger members of his family in audience; he had been having ill reports of their conduct from stern Clarissa Strozzi, who complained that the Cardinal Passerini was too indulgent. A word from the Holy Father was needed; and Clement could never resist an opportunity of seeing Alessandro. So there must be this visit to Rome, the Vatican itself; and Caterina was pleased, for she loved to travel, and a change from the monotonous daily routine of life in Florence was desirable.

Now she noticed, as they came into the city and people stood about to watch their ceremonial entry, that there were sullen looks instead of smiles, murmuring instead of cheering. But the overpowering beauty of the city made her forget the people.

There rose St Peter’s itself, though not yet completed, grand, eloquent almost, with its lesson to offer. The great church was built on that spot, in one of the gardens surrounding Nero’s circus after his martyrdom, St Peter had been buried. He would have suffered, but a great church bore his name, and he would never be forgotten. The Emperor Nero, at whose command St Peter had been tortured, had committed suicide. Whose was the triumph― the saint’s or the tyrant’s?

The day after their arrival the Pope would give them audience and they would be led through the balls and rooms, by papal lackeys dressed in red damask, to the chamber, where the Holy Father would receive them. Caterina had never seen her kinsman except when he was surrounded by the pomp of his office. Now they would go in procession to the Vatican City; they would mount the hill― the centre of a group of three that overlooked the Tiber― and they would pass from palace to palace catching glimpses of the river d the Sistine Chapel, and the old fortress of the Castle St Angelo.

Clement was glad that the children were in Rome. He would like to keep them there, but conditions were uneasy. Not that that worried him greatly. He had too high an opinion of his power to doubt for a moment his ability to quell a grumbling populace. The people distrusted him, he knew; and they considered the state of unrest in Italy due to the policy he had pursued with those monarchs who stood astride Europe― the three most powerful men of a turbulent age― Francis of France, Charles of Spain, and Henry of England. But there was one, Clement believed― for his vanity was not the least of his faults― who was greater than any of them, and that man was the Holy Father himself, Guilio de’