Light on Lucrezia - By Plaidy, Jean Page 0,71

was expectant. There was nothing he liked better than what he called goodly company, and he was not the man to turn from lewd talk nor from lewd behavior.

Cesare had ordered that fifty courtesans be brought to the apartment, and they came, some of the most notorious in Rome, ready to do whatever they should be asked, providing they received adequate payment; and payment or not, none would dare offend Cesare Borgia.

The payment for this night’s work was to be very high indeed, and in addition they had the honor of working for Cesare and entertaining the Holy Father and the bride-to-be.

They began by dancing, and as the music grew wilder, so did their dancing. There was one theme: seduction and fulfillment; and this they stressed again and again. Cesare watched intently. He had placed on a small table a selection of dresses made of the finest silk, leather shoes and hats; and these he said were prizes which he wished Lucrezia to distribute. She must watch carefully, for he wished her to bestow the prizes on those whom she thought most worthy.

The Pope applauded the dances, and laughed with hilarity when the prostitutes began to discard one item of clothing after another.

Lucrezia sat very still, trying not to glance sideways at her father and brother, trying to set a fixed smile on her face.

Brought up as she had been in her particular age she was not shocked to see these naked women. She had seen suggestive dances many times; she had listened to bawdy plays. She could only apply the standards of her age to such; but this entertainment was symbolic. This was Cesare’s way of telling her that she was one of them; she belonged to them; and that even when she was living with the prudish Este family, she would remember this night.

“Now,” said Cesare, “the contest begins.”

“I am all interest,” said the Pope, his eyes on a plump dark-haired woman who discarded the last of her garments.

Cesare clapped his hands and a bowl of hot chestnuts was brought to them.

“We shall scatter these, and the ladies will retrieve them,” he explained. “And each will hold a lighted candelabrum in her hand as she does so. It will be no easy feat in the state they are in.”

“Your wine was potent. I declare I should not feel inclined to scramble for chestnuts,” said the Pope, taking a handful and throwing them at the dark-haired courtesan.

Now all in the room, except Lucrezia, were rocking with laughter at the antics of the drunken prostitutes. Some shrieked as the lighted candles in the shaking hands of others touched them. Some fell to the ground, and rolled about on the floor in pursuit of the nuts.

This was the sign for Cesare’s servants to gratify that lust which the sight of the women had aroused in them, and at the given signal they proceeded to do so.

The Pope was helpless with laughter, pointing to this one and that.

Cesare laid his hand over his sister’s. “Take good note,” he said. “It is for you to award the prizes to those who get on best together.”

And she sat there, the fear upon her; the desire to escape never greater than at this hour of shame.

She felt that she did not belong to these Borgias and she longed to escape. They terrified her, and yet she was conscious of that strong feeling within her which she had for them and which she could have for no others. Was it love? Was it dread? Was it fear?

She did not know. All she did know was that it was the strongest emotion in her life.

She was tainted, and Cesare had determined that the stain should be indelible. “You shall not escape!” That was what he was telling her. “You are blood of our blood, flesh of our flesh. You cannot wipe the Borgia stain from yourself, because it is part of you.”

It was over at last. She felt sick with revulsion and loathing mingling with fear. Yet she did as she was bidden. She selected the winners and gave the prizes.

She knew then that she would always do as she was bidden. She knew that the only escape was in flight.

“Holy Mother of God,” she prayed, “send me to Ferrara. Let them come for me … soon … Oh, let it be soon, before it is too late.”

She was waiting, and still they did not come.

The Pope fumed with rage.

“What now?” he demanded. “What should they want