Madonna of the Seven Hills (11 page)

She agreed with Adriana that Giulia was indeed fortunate to be loved by one so magnificent as Alexander.

Many important visitors—ambassadors and other dignitaries from the various states—called at the palace of Santa Maria and, under Adriana’s guardianship, Lucrezia knew how to receive them. None came without bringing gifts—some for Lucrezia, some for Giulia.

“How kind they are!” said Lucrezia one day when she was examining a beautiful set of furs. “None comes empty-handed.”

Giulia laughed at her simplicity. “Do not be quite so grateful, dearest Lucrezia,” she advised. “They only give because they hope to get in return something which means far more to them.”

Lucrezia was reflective. “It spoils the gift,” she said. “Indeed it makes no gift at all.”

“Of course it is no gift. It is a payment for favors they hope to receive.”

“The furs no longer seem so beautiful,” sighed Lucrezia.

Giulia looked at her fondly and thought what a long time it took for
her to grow realistic. If Lucrezia had been born poor what a good-hearted little simpleton she might have been!

Was she not aware that, as the Pope’s beloved daughter, she had great influence with him?

Lucrezia did know, for she was quickly made aware of this. Adriana believed that Alexander did not want a simpleton for a daughter, therefore this simplicity, this generous open-heartedness of Lucrezia must be checked. Such qualities were foolish.

It was necessary for her to have many rich possessions, Adriana implied. Did she mean to rely entirely on her father for them? No, let her be subtle. Let her use her own shrewdness, so that the Pope realized that he had a clever little daughter and could be proud of her.

Did she love fine clothes? None more. Lucrezia had always been a little vain of her beauty, and what could show it to better advantage than beautiful furs and fine brocades? Then let her make those who sought her favors aware of this. Let them know that, if they made her presents which pleased her, she would show her gratitude by begging her father to give them the help they needed.

“Why,” said Adriana, “Francesco Gonzaga will be coming to see you soon. He greatly desires that his brother Sigismondo should become a Cardinal.”

“He comes to ask me this?”

“A word to your father from you would help his cause.”

“But how could I who know so little of such matters influence my father?”

“Your father wishes you to show yourself to be a Borgia. He would be pleased to do what you ask of him, and he would like Gonzaga to know in what esteem he holds you. If Gonzaga brought you a valuable present and you could say to your father: ‘See what Gonzaga has brought me!’ why then His Holiness would be pleased at the honor done you and would be ready, I doubt not, to grant favors to one who had shown he knew how to pay for them.”

“I see,” said Lucrezia. “I did not know that these matters were arranged thus.”

“Then it is time you learned. You love pearls, do you not?”

Lucrezia’s eyes sparkled. She did love pearls. They suited her fair skin; when she put on the beautiful necklace which Giulia had been given by Alexander she was sure she looked as beautiful as Giulia.

“I will tell Gonzaga that you are excessively fond of pearls,” said Adriana, smiling knowledgeably.

And it surely would be wonderful, thought Lucrezia, to possess pearls like Giulia’s.

So this was the way a Pope’s daughter lived. It was wonderfully exciting and very profitable. Who was Lucrezia—rather lazy Lucrezia, who more than most girls loved fine clothes and becoming ornaments—who was she to disagree with this mode of living?

Alexander received his
daughter in his apartments at the Vatican; with her, as companion, came Giulia. Alexander still doted on the latter and could scarcely let a day pass without seeing her.

When Alexander received these two beloved ones he liked to do so in the utmost intimacy, so he dismissed all his attendants when they arrived, and had the girls sit, one on either side of him that he might put an arm about each.

How beautiful they were, he thought, with their young smooth skins and their shining golden hair—surely two of the loveliest girls in Rome. Life seemed good when he at sixty had the vigor of a young man, and he was certain that Giulia was making no pretense when she showed so clearly that her passion for him was as great as his for her, and that her poor little squint-eyed husband, young as he was, had no charm for her.

Lucrezia nestling against her father was admiring the splendor of his apartments. The ceiling was gilded and the walls of delicate colors; there were oriental carpets on the floor, and the great artist Pinturicchio had begun the murals; but these did not yet cover the walls, and below them were hangings of the finest silk. There were many chairs, stools and cushions of silk and velvet in brilliant colors; and dominating all was the glory of the Papal throne.

All this belonged to this godlike person who, it seemed impossible
to believe, was her tender and loving father, and who when he was alone with his beloved girls would seem to imply that his greatest joy in life was pleasing them.

“I have sent for you this day because I have something to tell you, daughter,” he said. “We are going to cancel the arrangements we have made for your marriage to Don Gasparo di Procida.”

“Is that so, Father?” she asked.

Giulia laughed. “She does not mind. She does not mind in the least.”

The Pope caressed his daughter’s cheek, and Lucrezia was reminded of the pleasure she had derived from Cesare’s caresses.

“Father,” she cried, “when shall I see Cesare?”

Giulia and the Pope laughed together and exchanged glances.

“You see I am right,” said Giulia. “Poor Lucrezia! She has never had a lover.”

It was hardly a frown which crossed the Pope’s face; he rarely showed displeasure with his loved ones, but Giulia was aware that her remark had disturbed him. She was however too sure of her power to be afraid of displeasing. “It’s true,” she said almost defiantly.

“One day,” said Alexander, “my daughter will find great joy in love, I doubt not. But she will wait until the time when she is ready.”

Lucrezia took her father’s hand and kissed it.

“She cares more for her father and brothers than for any others,” said Giulia. “Why, she says of every man she sees: ‘How insignificant he is beside my father … or Cesare or Giovanni!’ ”

“Lucrezia is a Borgia,” said Alexander, “and Borgias see great virtue in Borgias.”

“They are not the only ones,” said Giulia, laughing and holding his arm against her. “I pray you, beloved and Holy Father, tell us who will now be Lucrezia’s bridegroom.”

“A man of great importance. His name is Giovanni Sforza.”

“Is he an old man?” asked Giulia.

“What has age to do with love?” demanded the Pope, and this time there was reproach in his voice.

But Giulia was quick with her soothing reply. “It is only gods who have the gift of remaining forever young. Giovanni Sforza, I’ll swear, is but a man.”

Alexander laughed and kissed her. “It is a good match. My beloved daughter will bless me for arranging it. Come, Lucrezia, are you not going to show your pleasure?”

Lucrezia kissed him dutifully. “But I have been betrothed so many times. I will wait until I see him and then until I am married to him before I am too grateful.”

The Pope laughed. They amused him with their chatter and he was sorry to have to send them away because official matters must be settled.

Surrounded by their attendants they left the Vatican, and as they were crossing the square an unkempt vagabond peered at Giulia insolently and cried out: “Why, ’tis the bride of Christ!”

Giulia’s eyes flashed, but the man lost no time in running as fast as his legs could carry him, and had disappeared before Giulia could send anyone after him.

“You are angry, Giulia,” said Lucrezia, “angry at the words of a beggar.”

“I do not care to be insulted,” retorted Giulia. “You know what he meant.”

“That you are my father’s mistress. That is no insult. Think of all those who come to pay court to you because of that!”

“The common people consider it an insult,” said Giulia. “I wish I could have that man put in prison. I’d have him punished.”

Lucrezia shivered. She knew that often men who insulted those in high places had their tongues cut out.

She would not think of that. Perhaps she would have to learn to contemplate such things with indifference, as she had had to learn to accept the relationship between her father and Giulia and pious Adriana’s acceptance of it, and as she had had to accept the fact that she must make herself rich and important by taking bribes. She doubted not that in time she would grow as indifferent as others to these matters; but there was a softness within her which made it difficult for her.

She must conform. She must be like those who lived about her. But for the time being she would refuse to think of the cruel things which could happen to men and women, merely because they spoke too freely.

She wanted to be happy; therefore she would not think of anything that might make her otherwise.

She turned to Giulia. “Perhaps I shall marry this man, this Giovanni Sforza. I like the sound of him. He has the same name as my brother.”

“There are many Giovannis in Italy,” Giulia reminded her.

“But I doubt not that something will happen to make my father choose another husband for me. Giulia, would it not be strange if I never married … because no sooner am I betrothed to one than I must marry someone who will be more grand, more suitable?”

“You will surely marry one day.”

“Then I shall have a lover … even as you have.”

“Husbands are not always lovers, my dear. And you have a long way to go before you are as I am.”

Giulia put her face close to Lucrezia’s and smiled her most secretive smile. “I will tell you a secret. The Pope is more than my lover. He is the father of the child I carry within me.”

“Oh, Giulia! So you are to have a child!”

Giulia nodded. “That was why I was so angry when that vagabond said what he did. I believe it is becoming known. That means that some of our servants are more inquisitive than they should be … and too talkative.”

“Do not punish them for that, Giulia,” said Lucrezia. “It is natural that they should be so.”

“Why should you care whom I punish?”

Lucrezia said: “I do not want to think of punishments. The sun shines so beautifully on the piazza, does it not, and were not my father’s apartments quite beautiful? Cesare and Giovanni will soon be home, and I shall have a husband. There is so much to make me happy. It is merely that I do not wish to think of anyone’s not being pleased.”

“There are times,” said Giulia, “when you seem so simple; and there are times when you seem so very difficult to understand.”

Lucrezia was in
her apartment at the Palace of Santa Maria, and her slaves and women were helping her to dress. One fastened the ribbon of her gown while another set a jeweled ornament in her hair.

The arrangements for her marriage had advanced considerably; Don
Gasparo, the rejected suitor, had been placated with a gift of three thousand ducats; and the whole of Italy was talking of the Borgia-Sforza alliance. Some saw in this a threat to their security, and della Rovere had decided he would be safer out of Rome. Ferrante of Aragon was disturbed by the alliance and waited apprehensively for what it would bring forth.

There was no doubt in Lucrezia’s mind that this betrothal had reached a stage which none of the others had, and it seemed almost certain that she would marry Giovanni Sforza.

So, when a page knocked for admission and told one of her attendants that a noble gentleman had arrived at the palace and was asking to see her, Lucrezia immediately thought that Giovanni Sforza had come.

This was wrong of him, of course. He should not come informally; there would be a ceremonial procession into the city; the Pope’s daughter and her betrothed husband could not meet like any serving man and maid; but it would be pleasant and so romantic to do so. She smoothed the folds of her brocade gown and looked at her reflection in the polished metal mirror. She was beautiful; she longed to partake of that sort of love about which Giulia talked.