Light on Lucrezia (14 page)

“I shall soon see my beloved brother again,” cried Lucrezia. “I long to hear about his adventures in France. I wonder his bride could bear to part with him.”

And Alfonso, listening, felt again that cold shadow over his life. It had always been Cesare who had alarmed him more than any.

But it was so easy to forget. Lucrezia would bring out her lute; Goffredo would sing with them and they would call in the men and women for the dancing.

Alexander felt elated
. Cesare was home, and it would not be long now before he held his beloved son in his arms. The French were in possession of Milan and the Neapolitans were alarmed; but the Pope in the Vatican was well content. Cesare was a kinsman of the King of France, and the French and the Borgias would now be allies.

Alexander had already formed his plans for the future Borgia kingdom which would be his. The time was at hand when it should be seized; Milan, Naples, Venice, all the Italian States and kingdoms would be concerned with protecting themselves from the French. Now was the time for Cesare to step in with the Papal armies. Now was the time to form the State of Romagna. Towns such as Imola, Forlì, Urbino, Faenza and Pesaro (oh yes, certainly Pesaro; they would be revenged on Giovanni Sforza for the rumors he had circulated concerning the Borgia family) should all fall to Cesare. And here
was
Cesare, in Italy with his French allies, waiting to seize his Kingdom.

There was only one thing which irked Alexander at this time; this was his
separation from his daughter. So he sent messages to Spoleto commanding Alfonso to take his wife to Nepi (that town which, at the time of his election to the Papal Chair, he had given to Ascanio Sforza in exchange for his support, and which he had since retaken from him) where he, Alexander, would join them.

Why should not Cesare ride to Nepi from Milan? There he and Alexander could discuss their plans for the future.

Cesare set out
from Milan, eager for the reunion with his family. He longed to see Lucrezia again—even though he would have to see her husband as well; he wanted to bask in the warmth of Goffredo’s admiration; but chiefly he wished to hear his father’s plans for his advancement.

At last Cesare was doing what he had always made up his mind to do: he was a soldier, and the Papal forces were to be at his command.

It was exhilarating to feel the Italian air on his face again. In France he had always been conscious that he was in a strange land and that he was continually watched. The French had disliked him; they had inflicted many humiliations on him, and Cesare was not one to forget humiliations.

As he rode along the road from Milan to Nepi he thought of what he would like to do to the students of the Sorbonne, if it were only in his power to punish them. They had staged a comedy based on Cesare’s marriage, and they had taken particular delight in defaming Cesare and the Pope. Louis had declared his wish that this should be stopped, for the comedy, performed many times, was the talk of Paris; he had even sent two of his officials to the capital to prevent its presentation, but the students, six thousand strong, had refused to stop their performance, and Louis himself had at length gone to Paris to prohibit this insult to one who should have been an honored guest.

Cesare could not be revenged on the students, but he would on others. He had a mental dossier of all those who had offended him, even if it was but by a slighting word or a look. They should all die—in one way or another—for it was Cesare’s doctrine that none should insult him and live.

But revenge must wait. First he had his kingdom to conquer, and the great dream of his life had to be realized.

Lucrezia was watching for him as he rode to the castle of Nepi, and was the first to greet him. She was large with child—the birth was a few weeks away—and this irritated him even as he embraced her, as it reminded him of Alfonso, her husband, and all the rumors he had heard of the affection between these two.

“It has been so long, Cesare, so very long,” she cried.

He took her face in his hands and studied it intently. Her face at least had changed little.

“You had your husband and this child to think of,” he told her.

“Do you think anything would stop me thinking of you?”

It was the answer he expected; the sort of answer she had learned to give in nursery days.

The Pope was ready to greet him, taking him in his arms, kissing him fondly, his face quivering with emotion.

“My beloved son, at last … at last!”

“Father, I would it had been earlier.”

“No matter, now you are here, and we are contented.”

Cesare had nothing more than a curt greeting for his brother-in-law; Alfonso was taken aback, the smile of welcome freezing on his face. He glanced quickly at Lucrezia, but Lucrezia, with whom he had shared all emotions since he had rejoined her at Spoleto, was unaware of him. He was conscious of the pride shining in her eyes, pride in this brother of hers.

The Pope and
Cesare were closeted together. They bent over maps as they sketched in the kingdom of Romagna.

“One by one these towns should fall to us,” said the Pope. “No doubt some, terrified of war, will surrender without a fight.”

“I shall know how to terrify them,” Cesare told him.

“The Italians are a pleasure-loving people,” went on the Pope. “Charles’s invasion taught us that. They like to parade in fine uniforms; that is beauty and color, and they are great lovers of beauty and color. They love carnivals, mock-battles; they like the parade of conquering heroes … but the true battle … no! I do not think our task will be difficult.”

“I shall accomplish it with ease.”

“You are confident, my son.”

“Should not all generals be confident before the battle? To believe in defeat is to court disaster.”

“You are going to be a great general, my son.”

“Did I not always tell you so? Do not forget, Father, that I have much time to make up for.” His gaze was accusing, and the Pope flinched, feeling suddenly old, as though he had given over the reins to this headstrong son of his and bidden him drive their chariot.

Alexander looked down at the map and traced a line with his finger.

“We shall subdue all the Roman barons,” he said. “They shall all come under Papal authority. You are Gonfalonier of the Church, my son.”

Cesare’s brilliant eyes looked into those of his father. Yes, Romagna would be under Papal control and, as the Pope would be under the control of his son, Cesare would soon be ruler of those States. Nor would his ambition end there.

Cesare intended to unite all Italy and rule as King.

In their bedroom
at Nepi Alfonso and Lucrezia lay together. It was early morning and Lucrezia was conscious of the restlessness of her husband.

“Alfonso,” she whispered. “What ails you?”

“I cannot sleep,” he answered.

“Why not, Alfonso?”

He was silent; she raised herself on her elbow and, although she could not see his face, she touched it lightly with her fingers. He took her hand and kissed it passionately. His was trembling.

“What ails you, Alfonso?” she asked again.

He hesitated. Then he lied. “I know not. It must have been some nightmare.”

She kissed him again and lay down beside him.

He knew how deeply she loved her brother—too deeply, so many had said—and he could not bring himself to say to her, “It is the presence of your brother here at Nepi. While he is here I find it impossible to be at peace. It is as
though the castle is full of shadows—fantastic, grotesque and horrible—that hang over me. There are warning shadows and threatening shadows. And I dream of Cesare, standing over me with the naked sword in his hand and that half-smile on his face which mocks me and is so cruel.”

There was rejoicing
throughout the Vatican, for Lucrezia had come safely through childbirth and the baby was a boy.

He was to be called Roderigo after the Pope, and no one seemed more delighted than the child’s grandfather, who immediately inspected the baby and declared that the little one resembled him in more than name. Pacing up and down Lucrezia’s chamber with young Roderigo in his arms he seemed to have regained all his lost youth. He was already making plans for the boy’s future, and demanded of all those present if they had ever seen a more healthy boy than this grandson of his.

Lucrezia lying back in her magnificent bed in Santa Maria in Portico, content in her child though she was, was exhausted for her labor had been long and arduous. Alfonso remained by her bed, her hand in his, smiling his delight to see the Pope’s pleasure in the child.

Cesare had not accompanied them on their return to Rome, and Alfonso could forget those nights of terror now Cesare was far away.

Outside in St. Peter’s Square were the sounds of soldiers at their drill, for the Papal armies were preparing to march; and although the Pope showed himself enchanted with this new baby, his soldiers were the enemies of the child’s paternal relatives.

Sanchia was in Rome, as Lucrezia had begged the Pope to allow her sister-in-law to return; and unable to deny his daughter her whims Alexander placed no obstacle in the way of Sanchia’s return, and when she came back treated her as though there had been no differences between them.