Light on Lucrezia: A Novel of the Borgia - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,65

listened so gravely to their advice, to believe those evil rumors they had heard concerning her. When the Pope returned he was immediately aware of the respect she had won, and knew that it had been a masterly stroke of his to appoint Lucrezia Regent.

Now she came out of the church. It was growing dusk and as she rode back to the Vatican the people shouted: “Long live the Duchess of Ferrara! Long live Alexander VI!”

As soon as it was dark the firework display began; and Lucrezia’s dwarfs, all brilliantly clad, ran through the crowds, shouting “Long live the Duchess of Ferrara!” and singing songs about her virtue and her beauty.

The people, who loved a spectacle of this nature more than anything, were quite ready to forget old scandals and cry aloud “Long live the virtuous Duchess of Ferrara!”

The Pope was in the center of the celebrations, presiding over the banquet, making sure that the ambassadors and all those emissaries from foreign courts should know how he esteemed his daughter; this was a mark of his affection; it was also a warning to the Estes of how great his wrath would be if they attempted to slide out of their agreement or, when his daughter arrived in Ferrara, they did not give her all the respect due to their Duchess.

And the next day, after the traditional custom, Lucrezia gave her dress to her jester, who put it on and rode through the city, shouting “Hurrah for the Duchess of Ferrara!” The crowds followed him, shrieking with delight to see the fool so clad, making obscene gestures to the “bride”; all of which was watched by Lucrezia and the Pope with great amusement.

Now that the marriage agreement was signed by Ercole there was one matter which the Pope had long wished to settle and at this time felt he was able to do so. He sent for Lucrezia one day and, when she came to him and he had received her with his usual affection, he dismissed all attendants and said to her: “My daughter, I have something to show you!”

She was expecting a jewel, some piece of rich brocade, some article which was to be yet another wedding present for her, but she was mistaken.

The Pope went to the door of an ante-room and spoke to someone who was waiting there. “You may go,” he said. “I will take the child.”

Then he returned to Lucrezia and he was holding by the hand a beautiful little boy aged about three years.

As Lucrezia stared at the child she felt the blood rush to her face. Those beautiful dark eyes were like a pair she had once known, and memory came rushing back to her. She was in the convent of San Sisto where a dark-eyed Spaniard had visited her—handsome, charming, passionate.

“Yes,” said the Pope, “it is he.”

Lucrezia knelt down and would have taken the boy into her arms, but he drew back, watching her solemnly, a little distrustful, bewildered.

Lucrezia thought: And how could it be otherwise? It is three years since he was born … and all those years he has not seen his mother.

“Come, my little man,” said the Pope. “What have you to say to the beautiful lady?”

“She is beautiful,” said the boy, putting out a brown finger to touch the jewels on Lucrezia’s fingers. He put his face down to those hands and made little clucking sounds of pleasure. He liked the smell of musk with which she scented her hands.

“Look at me, little one,” said Lucrezia, “not at my trinkets.”

Then the solemn eyes surveyed her cautiously, and she was unable to resist taking him into her arms and covering his face with kisses.

The Pope looked on, benign and happy. His greatest joy was in bringing pleasure to his loved ones; and this little boy—like most children and especially those who had Borgia blood in their veins—had immediately captivated him.

“Please,” said the boy, “I do not like being kissed.”

That amused the Pope. “Later you will, my son,” he cried. “Later you will not spurn the kisses of beautiful women.”

“Don’t like to be kissed,” reiterated the boy.

“Have you not been kissed much?” asked Lucrezia.

He shook his head.

“I think I should be tempted to kiss you often,” she told him; which made him move hastily away from her and closer to the Pope.

“Little Giovanni likes his new home, does he not?” asked the Pope.

Little Giovanni’s eyes lighted as he looked up into the impressive countenance, which might have been terrifying, but