Light on Lucrezia: A Novel of the Borgia - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,15

in the world.

All commented on the gaiety of Lucrezia. She hunted almost every day in the company of Alfonso; she planned dances and banquets for the pleasure of her husband, and the Pope was a frequent participator in the fun. It seemed incredible to Alfonso that he could have been afraid. The Pope was so clearly a beloved father who could have nothing but the warmest feelings toward one who brought such happiness to his daughter.

Lucrezia was emerging as the leader of fashion; not only were women wearing golden wigs in imitation of her wonderful hair, they were carefully studying the clothes she wore and copying them. Lucrezia was childishly delighted, spending hours with the merchants, choosing materials, explaining to her dressmakers how these should be used, appearing among them in the greens, light blues and golds, in russet and black, all those shades which accentuated her pale coloring and enhanced her feminine daintiness.

Lucrezia felt recklessly gay. This was partly due to the discovery that, contrary to her belief, she could be happy again. Whole days passed without her thinking of Pedro Caldes, and even when she did so it was to assure herself that their love had been a passing fancy which could never have endured in the face of so much opposition. Her father was right—as always. She must marry a man of noble birth; and surely she was the happiest woman on Earth, because Alfonso was both noble and the husband she loved.

The household heard her laughing and singing, and they smiled among themselves. It was pleasant to live in the household of Madonna Lucrezia; it was comforting to know that she had given up all thought of going into a convent. A convent! That was surely not the place for one as gay and lovely, as capable of being happy and giving happiness, as Lucrezia.

They knew in their hearts that the peace of the household was due to the absence of one person, but none mentioned this. Who could doubt that an idle word spoken now might be remembered years hence? And Il Valentino would not remain forever abroad.

The days passed all too quickly, and when in December Lucrezia knew that she was going to have a baby, she felt that her joy was complete.

Alfonso was ridiculously careful of her. She must rest, he declared. She must not forget the precious burden she carried.

“It is soon yet to think of that, my dearest,” she told him.

“It is never too soon to guard one’s greatest treasures.”

She would lie on their bed, he beside her, while they talked of the child. They would ponder on the sex of the child. If it were a boy they would be the proudest parents on Earth; and if a girl, no less proud. But they hoped for a boy.

“Of course we shall have a boy,” Alfonso declared, kissing her tenderly. “How, in this most perfect marriage could we have anything else? But if she is a girl, and resembles her mother, then I think we shall be equally happy. I see nothing for us but a blissful life together.”

Then they loved and told each other of their many perfections and how the greatest happiness they had ever known came from each other.

“One day,” said Alfonso, “I shall take you to Naples. How will you like living away from Rome?”

“You will be there,” Lucrezia told him, “and there will be my home. Yet …”

He touched her cheek tenderly. “You will not wish to be long separated from your father,” he said.

“We shall visit him often, and perhaps he will visit us.”

“How dearly you love him! There are times when I think you love him beyond all others.”

Lucrezia answered: “It is you, my husband, whom I love beyond all others. Yet I love my father in a different way. Perhaps as one loves God. He has always been there, wise and kind. Oh Alfonso, I cannot tell you of the hundred kindnesses I have received at his hand. I do not love him as I love you … you are part of me … I am completely at ease with you. You are my perfect lover. But he … is the Holy Father of us all, and my own tender father. Do not compare my love for him with that I have for you. Let me be happy, in both my loves.”

Alfonso was reminded suddenly of the loud sardonic laughter of Cesare, and he had an uncanny feeling that the spirit of Cesare