Light on Lucrezia: A Novel of the Borgia - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,28
journey, collapsed at the Pope’s feet.
Alexander, seeing his condition, had a comfortable chair brought for him, sent for wine and food to refresh him, but would not let him out of his sight until he had recounted what was happening in Blois.
“The marriage has been celebrated, Most Holy Lord,” gasped Garcia.
“And the consummation?”
“That also, Holiness. I waited until morning that I might bring news of this.”
“How many times?” asked the Pope.
“Six, Holiness.”
“A worthy son of his father,” Alexander cried, laughing. “My beloved boy, I am proud of you.”
“His Majesty the King of France congratulated my lord Duke on his prowess, Holiness.”
That made Alexander laugh still more.
“Saying, O Most Holy Lord, that my lord Duke had beaten His Majesty.”
“Poor Louis! Poor Louis!” cried the Pope. “Did he expect Valois to rival Borgia!”
Then he must hear every detail of the ceremony, going on to the consummation of which he liked to hear again and again.
He was heard murmuring for days afterward: “Six times! Not bad … not bad at all, my son.”
He enjoyed telling the story. He repeated it again and again to any who had not heard, and often to those who had, embroidering here and there, multiplying the jewels and the splendor and never leaving out that “six times”; and laughing aloud until the tears came to his eyes.
It was wonderful, thought Lucrezia, to see him so contented. It was but a month since the conception of her child, but she was feeling completely happy again. Her father was delighted; Cesare had a wife; and she had her beloved Alfonso, and they were to have a child. What more in the world could she want?
Sanchia was uneasy. She waylaid her brother as he came from his wife’s apartments.
Alfonso was humming a gay tune which Lucrezia often played on her lute, and the sight of his contented—almost ecstatic—expression irritated Sanchia.
“Alfonso,” she cried, “come into this little room where we can be quiet. I must talk to you.”
Alfonso opened his beautiful eyes, so like her own, in surprise, and said: “You sound disturbed, Sanchia.”
“Disturbed! Of course I’m disturbed. So would you be if you had any sense.”
Alfonso was a little impatient. Sanchia had changed since Cesare had gone away. None of her lovers pleased her and she was continually dissatisfied.
“Well,” said Alfonso stubbornly, “what ails you?”
“The French are planning an invasion.”
Alfonso wanted to yawn; he suppressed the desire with an effort.
“It is no use turning away from what I have to say because you find it unpleasant, Alfonso. You must listen to me. Ascanio Sforza is alarmed.”
“He is always alarmed.”
“Because he is a man of sound sense with his ears attuned to what is going on about him.”
“What goes on about him?”
“Intrigue.”
“Of a truth, Sanchia, you were always a lover of intrigue. I confess it was more amusing when they were intrigues of love.”
“What is going to happen when Cesare comes back?”
“I’ll swear he’ll be your lover in spite of his French wife.”
“He is now firmly allied with the King of France, and the French have always wanted Milan and … Naples. We belong to Naples. Do not forget it, Alfonso. Cesare will never forgive our uncle for refusing him Carlotta. He will band with the French against Uncle Federico. I would not care to be in Naples when Cesare enters with his troops.”
“We are of Naples,” said Alfonso, “and are the son and daughter-in-law of His Holiness, who is our friend.”
“Alfonso, you fool … you fool!”
“I am weary, Sanchia.”
“Oh, go to your wife,” cried Sanchia. “Go … and revel in your love, for what little time is left to you. Alfonso, be warned. You must take great care when Cesare returns to Italy.”
“He has just got him a wife,” cried Alfonso, his brow wrinkling.
“All husbands are not as devoted as you, brother. Some have ambitions beyond making love.” She caught his arm suddenly. “You are my brother,” she said, “and we stand together, as we always have.”
“Yes, Sanchia, indeed yes.”
“Then … do not be lulled into false security. Keep your ears and eyes open, brother. There is danger near us … danger to our house … and do not forget, although you are Lucrezia’s husband, you are also a Prince of Naples.”
Goffredo, who was now seventeen, was aware of the tension and determined not to be left out. The Pope showed great delight in the marriage of Cesare and the pregnancy of Lucrezia, and it seemed to Goffredo that he had little time to be interested in his younger son. People