Elizabetta in the litter, was determined to be as serene, as aloof as her companion; and thus Elizabetta lost one opportunity of snubbing Lucrezia as she had intended. The Borgia girl, she was forced to admit, had grace and charm, and to be in her company was to believe her to be almost as noble as oneself.
But Elizabetta did not forget. This girl had been brought up at the Papal Court. She had no doubt heard stories of Guidobaldo’s impotence since he had returned from the prison in which the Pope had allowed him to languish. The Borgias had always appreciated the coarsest jokes. Elizabetta was not going to forget merely because this girl had a quiet grace and a serene dignity. The Borgias were loathsome; and if they appeared in the guise of charming girls they were even more deadly.
So Elizabetta continued cool and unhelpful, and Lucrezia was conscious that her companion was hoping all the time that she would commit some social error. Adriana Mila hated Elizabetta and was unable to avoid showing it. This hatred delighted the Duchess of Urbino. She would sit smiling her aloof superior smile as they continued the journey, thinking of all she would have to tell her dear friend and sister-in-law, Isabella, when they met in Ferrara.
Elizabetta was slyly amused when they came to Pesaro. She watched the wilting of Lucrezia’s spirits as they entered the town. The girl must remember those months she had spent here as the wife of Giovanni Sforza who had been Lord of Pesaro before Cesare had taken it from him.
She must be remembering all the details of the scandalous divorce, and surely she must feel some shame.
Elizabetta said as they came into the town: “This must seem very familiar to you.”
“I have been here before.”
Elizabetta laughed lightly. “Of course, with the first of your husbands. But then you were so young, were you not. He could not have seemed like a husband to you. After all, it was no true marriage, was it? There was no consummation.”
Lucrezia stared straight ahead, and there was a faint flush in her pale cheeks.
“Giovanni, who has been at the court of my sister-in-law, swears that the marriage was consummated,” went on Elizabetta. “Poor Giovanni! He has lost so much … his lands … his wife … even his reputation as a man. I pity Giovanni Sforza.”
Lucrezia still said nothing; she too pitied Giovanni.
“The people here will remember, doubtless,” pursued Elizabetta. “They have long memories. They will remember when you came here as the bride of the Lord of Pesaro. Odd … that now you should come here as the bride of another, although their lord—I should say he who was their lord—still lives, still declares himself to be your husband!”
“I do not know how that can be,” said Lucrezia, “since there was a divorce.”
“On the grounds of non-consummation! But if the marriage was consummated, the grounds for divorce would disappear and … if there was no reason, how could there be a divorce? I do not know. Your father, who is wise in these matters, no doubt could tell us. Why, look! The people are eager to see you. You must show yourself, you know.”
And Lucrezia, who had hoped to enter quietly into Pesaro of many memories, must leave the litter, and ride her mule, so that all might see her.
Elizabetta rode beside her, maliciously hopeful. If she could have incited those people to shout abuse at Lucrezia she would have done so.
But here was Ramiro de Lorqua, the Spaniard whom Cesare had set up to rule Pesaro in his absence, and Ramiro, knowing the esteem in which Lucrezia was held by his master, was determined that such a welcome should be given her as was never before seen in Pesaro. He could count on the cooperation of the people, for Ramiro was the most brutal of overlords and they dared not oppose him.
It may have been fear of Ramiro, it may have been because the slender girl with her long golden hair falling about her shoulders seemed to them so gentle and so charming, but there was no abuse; there were only cries of “Duca! Duca! Lucrezia!”
And although Lucrezia’s misgivings did not abate during the time she was in Pesaro, Elizabetta was disappointed.
It was Ramiro’s duty to escort Lucrezia through the territory of Romagna, and this he did, making certain that in her brother’s domain she should be fêted wherever she went. Banquets were arranged in her honor; in