Madonna of the Seven Hills (47 page)

There was a new relationship between Alexander and Cesare; the shock of Giovanni’s death had shaken Alexander; Cesare was exultant because he believed that his father would never be the same again, that their positions had shifted, very slightly it was true; but there was an indication of what they would one day be to each other.

Alexander had lost a little of his authority; Cesare had gained that little. At the time of his great grief Alexander had seemed like an old man; he had recovered, but he had never regained that air of a man in his prime.

Cesare had learned something of great importance: I may do what I will and it makes no difference. There is nothing I cannot do, and he will help me to achieve my ambitions.

Now the Pope said to him: “My son, this divorce of your sister is long delayed. I think we should arrange for her to appear before the assembly.”

“Yes, Father. She cannot be too quickly freed from the man.”

“You were not idle while you were in Naples, Cesare? You sounded the King on the question of a possible husband for your sister?”

“I did, Holiness. Alfonso, the Duke of Bisceglie was suggested.”

The Pope murmured: “Illegitimate.”

Cesare shrugged his shoulders.

“And,” went on Alexander, “Sanchia’s brother.”

“He is like his sister in appearance only,” Cesare said.

The Pope nodded. He could forgive Cesare for bringing about the death of Giovanni, because he was a Borgia and his son; but he found it harder to forgive Sanchia for being one of the causes of jealousy between Cesare and Giovanni.

He considered the marriage. Alliance with Naples would be good at this juncture; and if the marriage became irksome there were always ways of ending it.

“I have been approached by the Prince of Salerno on account of his son Sanseverino.”

“I doubt not that the King of Naples had heard of it, and that is why he was so anxious for you to consider Alfonso of Bisceglie. He would not wish to see such a firm ally of the French joined with us by such a marriage.”

“Francesco Orsini is another; and there is the Lord of Piombino and Ottaviano Riario.”

“Dear Lucrezia—although she is not yet rid of one husband, she has many waiting for her. Fortunate Lucrezia!”

“You are thinking that you are denied marriage, my son.”

Cesare’s eyes were now alight with eagerness. “Oh my father,” he said, “Carlotta of Aragon, the King’s
legitimate
daughter who is being educated at the Court of France, is marriageable. It was hinted that were I free she might be my wife.”

There was a brief silence. This seemed to Cesare one of the most important moments of his life, for it was as though the Pope were struggling to regain his old supremacy.

Then, after what seemed a long time to Cesare, Alexander spoke. He said slowly: “Such a marriage would be advantageous, my son.”

Cesare knelt in sudden emotion. He took his father’s hand and kissed it passionately.

In this son, thought Alexander, I shall forget all my grief. He shall achieve such greatness that in time I shall cease to regret the loss of his brother.

Life for Lucrezia
in the Convent of San Sisto had been an alternation of joy and terror.

She and Pedro indulged in feverish pleasure which was the more intense because they both knew that it could not last. They were two people who must snatch at every moment of happiness, savoring it, cherishing it because they could not know when it would be their last together.

Pantisilea watched them, sharing vicariously their joys and sorrow; her pillows were often wet at night when she lay awake trying to look into the future.

There came that day when Pedro brought an inevitable message from the Pope. Lucrezia was to prepare herself to appear before an assembly of Envoys and Cardinals at the Vatican. There she should be declared
virgo intacta
.

Lucrezia was terrified.

“But what can I do?” she demanded of Pantisilea.

The little maid tried to comfort her. She should try on the dress Pantisilea had made for her. It was winter-time and she would be expected to wear many petticoats, as it was cold in the convent. She would hold her head high and impress them all with her innocent appearance. She must.

“How can I do it, Pantisilea?” she cried. “How can I stand before those holy men and act this lie?”

“You
must
do it, Madonna dearest. The Holy Father commands it, and it is necessary that you should be freed from Giovanni Sforza. On what other grounds could you be divorced?”

Lucrezia began to laugh hysterically.

“Pantisilea, why do you look so solemn? Do you not see what a joke this is? I am six months pregnant, and I am to go before the assembly and swear that I am
virgo intacta
. It is like a tale told by Giovanni Boccaccio. It is a joke … or it would be if it were not so serious … if it might not end tragically.”

“Dear Madonna, we will not let it end tragically. You will do what your father asks of you, and when you are free you will marry Pedro and go away to some place where all will be peace and happiness for you.”

“If only that could be so!”

“Remember it when you stand before those men, and that will give you courage. If you act this lie convincingly you will gain your freedom; and it is, after all, not the child of Giovanni Sforza that you carry. Your happiness—and that of Pedro—depend on how you act before the assembly. Remember that, Madonna.”

“I will remember it,” said Lucrezia firmly.

Pantisilea dressed her
with care. Cunningly she arranged the velvet flounces, and when she had finished she was pleased with her work.

“None will guess … I swear it. But, Madonna, how pale you are!”

“I feel the child moving within me as though to reproach me for denying it.”

“Nay you are not denying it. You are making a happy life for it. Do not think of the past, Madonna. Look to the future. Look to happiness with Pedro, and all that will come out of this day.”

“Pantisilea, my dear little maid, what should I have done without you?”

“Oh Madonna, none ever had a sweeter mistress. If I could not serve you, life would be dull for me. Anything I have done for you has been repaid a thousandfold.”

They clung together, two frightened girls.

And so she came to the Vatican, and there in the presence of her father and the members of the assembly she listened to the reading by one of the Cardinals of the document which declared that her marriage to Giovanni Sforza had not been consummated and that as a result Lucrezia was
virgo intacta
. This being no true marriage they were gathered together to pronounce its annulment.

She stood before them and never had her innocent looks served her so well.

The Cardinals and Envoys were impressed by her beauty and her youthful appearance; they needed no other proof of her virginity.

She was told that she was no longer married to Giovanni Sforza, and she answered with a speech of thanks which was so disarming that all present were charmed with her.

There was a moment when, feeling the child move within her, she felt dizzy and swayed slightly.

“Poor child!” murmured one of the Cardinals. “What an ordeal for one so young and innocent to endure!”

The Pope was
waiting for her in his private apartments; Cesare was with him.

“My dearest,” said the Pope, embracing her warmly, “at last I hold you in my arms again. This has been a trying time for us all.”

“Yes, Father.”

Cesare added: “And to have you shut away from us … that has been the most trying of all.”

“I needed the refuge,” she answered, not daring to meet their eyes.

“I trust,” said the Pope, “that you found little Pantisilea a good servant?”

Lucrezia replied passionately: “I love the girl. I do not know what I should have done without her. Thank you a thousand times, Father, for sending her to me.”

“I knew she would serve you well,” answered Alexander.

“The time has come for you to begin a new life, dear sister,” Cesare murmured. “Now that you are rid of Sforza you will find life sweet again.”

She did not answer. Desperately she was seeking for courage to tell them of her condition, to explain why they must put aside all thought of a grand marriage for her, how she loved Pedro and that he was the father of the child she carried.

She had imagined herself telling them, again and again as she lay in her converted cell and, although it had seemed a great ordeal which lay before her, it had not seemed impossible. Facing them, she found that she had underestimated the fear and awe in which she held them, the power which they held over her.

Alexander’s smile was almost roguish. “There are many clamoring for your hand, daughter.”

“Father … I do not wish to think of them.”

Cesare had moved swiftly toward her and put an arm about her. “What ails you, Lucrezia? You look ill. I fear you have suffered privation in your convent.”

“No … no. I have been comforted there.”

“It is no place for such as you are.”

“But you are pale and you look exhausted,” said the Pope.

“Let me sit down a moment,” Lucrezia begged.

Both men watched her intently. Only Alexander realized how frightened she was, and he motioned her to a stool.

Cesare told her of the men who were eager to marry her. “Francesco Orsini … Ottaviano Riario … and there is Sanchia’s brother, the little Duke of Bisceglie.”

Alexander said suddenly: “This has been an ordeal for the child. She needs rest now. Your apartments have been prepared for you, my dear. You shall go to them at once.”

Cesare was about to protest, but the Pope was his old firm self. He was clapping his hands and slaves were appearing.

“Madonna Lucrezia’s women should conduct her to her apartments,” he said.

When he was
alone, Alexander stood before the shrine in his apartments. He was not praying; he was staring at it, and there were furrows in his brow and the rich purple blood stained his face, while in his temples a pulse throbbed visibly.

It was impossible. But it was not impossible at all. What had been happening in the convent all these months? He had heard stories of what could and did happen in convents. But not that of San Sisto.