Madonna of the Seven Hills (19 page)

“Cesare, my brother, you will escape,” she told him.

“I am determined,”
said the Pope, “that you shall become a Cardinal.”

Cesare had once more broached the subject of release and because he felt that his sister might have a softening effect on their father, he had insisted that she accompany him into his presence.

“Father, I implore you to release me from the Church before you take this step.”

“Cesare, are you a fool? What man in Rome would refuse such honors?”

“I am as no other man in Rome. I am myself and myself alone. I refuse this … this questionable honor.”

“You can say this … before Almighty God!”

Cesare shook his head impatiently. “Father, you know, do you not, that once I am a Cardinal it will be more difficult to release me from my vows?”

“My son, there is no question of releasing you from your vows. Let us discuss this no more. Lucrezia, my love, bring your lute. I should like to hear you sing that new song of Serafino’s.”

“Yes, Father,” said Lucrezia.

But Cesare would not allow her to sing and, although the Pope regarded his son with mild reproach, he did nothing more.

“You cannot make me a Cardinal, Father,” said Cesare triumphantly. “I am your son, but your illegitimate son, and as you know full well no man can become a Cardinal unless he is of legitimate birth.”

The Pope brushed aside his argument as though it were not more than a wasp which provided a temporary irritation.

“Now I understand your anxiety, my son. It is for this reason that you have been reluctant. You should have spoken of your fears earlier.”

“So, Father, you see that it is impossible.”

“You … a Borgia to talk of the impossible! Nonsense, my dear boy, nothing is impossible. A little difficulty, I’ll admit; but have no fears, I have thought of ways of overcoming such.”

“Father, I implore you to listen to me.”

“I would rather listen to Lucrezia’s singing.”

“I will be heard! I will be heard!” shrieked Cesare.

Lucrezia began to tremble. She had heard him shout thus before, but never in their father’s presence.

“I think, my son,” said the Pope coolly, “that you are overwrought. It is due to riding in the sun in company unfitted to your state. I would suggest you refrain from such conduct which, I assure you, my dearest boy, brings distress to those who love you, but could bring greater harm to yourself.”

Cesare stood, biting his lips, clenching and unclenching his hands.

There was a moment of fear when Lucrezia thought he was about to strike their father. The Pope sat, smiling benignly, refusing to accept this as a major difference between them.

Then Cesare seemed to regain his control; he bowed with dignity and murmured: “Father, I crave leave to depart.”

“It is granted, my son,” said Alexander gently.

Cesare went, and Lucrezia stared unhappily after him.

Then she, who was sitting on a stool at her father’s feet, felt his hand on her head.

“Come, my love, the song! It is a pleasant one and sounds best on your sweet lips.”

As she sang, the Pope caressed his daughter’s golden hair, and they both temporarily forgot the unpleasant scene which Cesare had created; they both found it very easy to forget when it was comforting to do so.

In the Pope’s
private apartments Cardinals Pallavicini and Orsini sat with him.

“A simple matter,” said the Pope, smiling benignly, “and I am sure it will present no difficulty to you … this little formality of proving that he who is known as Cesare Borgia is of legitimate birth.”

The Cardinals were astonished, for the Pope had openly acknowledged Cesare as his son.

“But, Most Holy Lord, this is surely an impossibility.”

“How so?” asked the Pope with bland surprise.

Orsini and Pallavicini looked at each other in bewilderment. Then Orsini spoke. “Holy Father, if Cesare Borgia is your son, how could it be that he is of legitimate birth?”

Alexander smiled from Orsini to Pallavicini as though they were two simple children.

“Cesare Borgia,” he said, “is the son of Vannozza Catanei, a woman of Rome. At the time of his birth she was a married woman. That dispenses with Cesare’s illegitimacy, for a child born in wedlock is legitimate, is he not?”

“Holiness,” murmured Pallavicini, “we were unaware that the lady was married at the time of his birth. It is generally believed that it was not until after the birth of her daughter Lucrezia that she married Giorgio di Croce.”

“It is true that the marriage with Giorgio di Croce took place after the birth of Lucrezia, but the lady was married before that. Her husband was a certain Domenico d’Arignano, who was an official of the Church.”

The Cardinals bowed. “Then that proves Cesare Borgia to be legitimate, Holiness.”

“It does indeed,” said the Pope, smiling at them. “Let a bull be made stating his parentage and his legitimacy.” His expression was regretful; it saddened him to deny his son; yet such denial there must be in the name of ambition. He added: “Since I had taken this young man under my patronage I allowed him to adopt the name of Borgia.”

The Cardinals murmured: “We will immediately obey your wishes, Most Holy Father.”

But when they had left him the Pope immediately set about drawing up another bull in which he declared that he was the father of Cesare Borgia. It saddened him a little that this bull must be a secret one—for a while.

Cesare raged up
and down Lucrezia’s apartment, and in vain did she try to soothe him.

“Not content,” cried Cesare, “with forcing me into the Church my father now allows it to be said that I am the son of a certain Domenico d’Arignano. And who is Domenico d’Arignano, I beg you tell me. Who has ever heard of Domenico d’Arignano?”

“They will hear of him now,” said Lucrezia gently. “The whole world will hear of him. His claim to fame will be that he was named as your father.”

“Insult after insult!” cried Cesare. “Humiliation after humiliation! How much longer must I endure this state of affairs?”

“My dearest brother, our father but wishes to advance you. In his opinion, it is necessary that you become a Cardinal, and this is the only way in which he can make you one.”

“So he denies me!”

“It is only for a while.”

“Never,” cried Cesare, beating his fists on his chest, “will I forget that my father has denied me.”

Meanwhile Alexander had
called together a Consistory, that Cesare might be declared legitimate.

He had chosen this moment because so many had left Rome. The weather was hot and sultry and there had been reports of plague in various quarters. When pestilence crept into the city those who could invariably made an excuse to escape to their estates and vineyards in the country. This was such a time.

Alexander knew that there had been a great deal of opposition among the Cardinals on account of the favors he had bestowed on his family and friends; the matters he had to lay before them now concerned not only his son but the brother of his mistress, for although he had promised Giulia that her brother should have his Cardinal’s hat it had not yet been bestowed upon him.

There were few Cardinals present at the Consistory, which pleased
Alexander. Better to deal with a few opponents than many. But those who were present were suspicious because they understood that this was a preliminary move and they feared what was to come. Alexander carried nepotism too far, they said to one another. It would not be long before every man in any position of importance was one put there to serve the Pope.

And their suspicions increased when Alexander folded his beautiful hands, smiled his most benign smile and declared: “My Lord Cardinals, make the necessary preparations. Tomorrow we elect the new Cardinals.”

Then all was clear. Cesare had been declared legitimate that he might be made a Cardinal.

There was a faint murmur throughout the assembly, and many eyes were turned to Cardinal Carafa who had on previous occasions shown himself bold enough to oppose the Pope.

“Most Holy Lord,” said Carafa, “has your Holiness given due consideration to the usefulness of making these nominations?”

Again that bland smile. “The question of creating these Cardinals concerns me alone.”

“Holiness,” said a voice from the assembly, “there are many among us who feel that it is not necessary to make new Cardinals at this time.”

The smile disappeared from the face of the Pope, and for a moment all those assembled caught a glimpse of an Alexander who usually remained hidden.

Carafa boldly went on: “The point is, Holiness, that we know some of those names which you intend to propose, and we do not think they are suitable for the office, nor would we wish them to be our colleagues.”

This was a direct reference to Cesare’s reputation and a reminder that he had been seen in the city in the company of the courtesan, Fiametta. Cesare had deliberately flaunted his friendship with the woman, anticipating a scene such as this.

It was characteristic of Alexander that his anger should be not against Cesare but the Cardinals.

He seemed to grow in stature. The Cardinals trembled before him, for there was a legend in Rome that no man of Alexander’s age could possess such virility, such amazingly good health, unless he was superhuman.
Those Cardinals felt that legend to be true as now their Pope faced them in his unaccustomed anger.

“You must learn who Alexander VI is,” he cried. “And if you persist in your intransigence I shall annoy you all by making as many new Cardinals as I wish. You will never drive me from Rome, and any who try to, or oppose me in any way, will be very foolish men. You should really ponder on how foolish they will be.”

There was a short silence while Alexander looked angrily at the crestfallen Cardinals before him.

Then with the utmost dignity he went on: “Now we will nominate the new Cardinals.”

And when the assembly saw that at the head of the list were the names of Cesare Borgia and Alessandro Farnese, and that all the thirteen proposed were men who could be trusted to work for the Pope against his enemies, they realized that there was nothing they dared do but agree to their election.