Light on Lucrezia: A Novel of the Borgia - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,41
that expectancy, that furtive horror, which she had noticed before when he was in the company of her brother Cesare.
Cesare had arrived in Carnival time, and the people were given a subject for their revelry which was certain to please the Pope. There were masques depicting Cesare’s victories over his enemies; poems and songs were written of his brilliant soldiery and his daring campaigns.
Cesare was in good spirits. He had no doubt that he would achieve his destiny. He danced with Lucrezia in the presence of his father and their dances were those of Spain. He had renewed his pursuit of Sanchia, and it was reported throughout Rome that they were lovers again. Goffredo worshipped his brother and sought to copy him in everything; he was delighted that his wife pleased the great Cesare, and took to himself great credit for having married her that he might provide Cesare with the best mistress he had ever had.
As for Sanchia, her feelings toward him were mingled; she hated him yet she found him irresistible; and as before, her hatred increased her passion.
But there was one thing which struck Cesare during this time. Lucrezia was no longer a child, no longer so pliable; and he realized with a shock that her loyalty to her husband might prove greater than that which she had for him.
Lucrezia had been present at those occasions when members of the Neapolitan and Milanese factions had put their heads together and plotted against Cesare Borgia. Lucrezia, his own sister, might be working against him!
Cesare noted the Pope’s devotion to his grandson. If the baby was in the Vatican gardens, Alexander would find some pretext for going out to him. He was becoming almost foolish in his adoration of his grandchild, and this was to a certain extent the measure of his love for Lucrezia.
With growing suspicion Cesare began to reassess the state of affairs in the Vatican. His sister’s husband was his enemy and had great influence with his sister, who in her turn had great influence with the Pope.
There was only one person who must be allowed to dominate the Pope; and there was only one whom his sister must serve: Cesare Borgia.
He began to make plans concerning that very handsome but very weak boy to whom they had married Lucrezia.
He found it difficult to be polite to the young fool, and increasingly irksome to see them together, to witness a hundred little signs of their fond and foolish love. The thought of their eagerness for each other drove Cesare to something like a madness, from which even the inordinate sensuality of Sanchia could not relieve him.
He would sit in his rooms above the Pope’s in the Vatican, for on his return to Rome he had not gone to his own palace, and there he would make plans. He would look out over Rome, of which he was now master, as his troops were camped all around the city and in their hands was the law. If any committed a misdemeanor—and a misdemeanor could be an idle word spoken in a tavern against Cesare Borgia—they would not repeat it. The gallows on the St. Angelo’s Bridge was well supplied with hanging corpses, a lesson for all to see.
He was lord of Rome. He was Cesare.
So why should he allow an insignificant and foolish youth to irritate him?
Thunder and lightning rent the darkness over the eternal city. It was the Feast of St. Peter, and there was not a soul to be seen in the streets, for all had scuttled to safety as the first great raindrops had begun to fall. The rain splashed down in the streets and danced back as though in fury. Overhead the sky was black; and in their houses the people trembled.
Alexander was in his apartments with the Bishop of Capua and his chamberlain, Gasparre, executing some formal and unimportant business.
“How dark it is!” he said, looking up. “I cannot see to read.”
“The storm grows fierce, Most Holy Lord,” said the Bishop.
“We shall have to have lights,” replied the Pope. “And see, the rain is coming in through the windows.”
Gasparre was on his way across the apartment to call for lights and the Bishop had gone to the window when the roof immediately above the Papal chair collapsed.
Gasparre cried out in alarm and he and the Bishop, choking with the dust which filled the air, ran to that spot where the Pope had been sitting.