voyage westward to the Indies.
A corollary of these explorations, though it was not perceived as such at the time, had followed. Immediately after the return of Colombo's crews from the New World, a new venereal infection, called the French disease by Italians, and the Neapolitan pox by the French, had begun to radiate rapidly from certain seaports, and was now well on its way to establishing a broad foothold in Europe. The modern name for this disease is syphilis.
Seeking news, suggestions, any hint at all that might lead me to the wretched pair Basarab and Bogdan, I continued to move among the markets and the taverns of the great city, keeping my ears open. As part of my general vampirish transformation, my hearing had become preternaturally acute, but of the men I sought I still heard nothing. Of the Pope, still hale and hearty at the age of sixty nine, and of two of his children, I learned a great deal.
Lucrezia had recently been married for the second time—her father had annulled the first union. In the summer of 1500 her second husband was murdered. This time no one really doubted that Cesare was responsible, and that Alexander had given at least tacit approval to the act. Somehow I just managed to miss out on being on hand for that.
Everyone was talking of Cesare, in particular.
It is hard to remember now at exactly what point it dawned on me that the Cesare Borgia of whom I heard so much and his younger sister Lucrezia could conceivably be the pair of adolescents who had once sent me to my grave—at least to one of my borrowed graves—and followed me there, in a spirit of scientific curiosity. When the rumors linking the Pope's offspring with poison began to reach my ears, I could hardly have failed to make the connection.
Italy in that age was not yet, as France and Spain and England had already become, a united power. Rather it was the most chronic of Europe's chronic battlefields. Well, I thought, if I can find out nothing directly regarding the men I want, I can at least discover where fighting and campaigning are currently in progress, or where they are most likely in the immediate future. Those would be the best places to seek out enterprising
But currently, as I came to understand more thoroughly with every hour I spent in learning more about events, there was no better place to seek for mercenaries than in the train of Duke Valentino, as Cesare had come to be known since the King of France had bestowed certain lands and titles on him.
In the summer of 1500, whatever spiritual influence the Pope's proclaimed Jubilee might have had in heaven, His Holiness barely escaped death from a falling ceiling and roof in one of his Roman apartments.
And at about the same time, Cesare, preparing to campaign again in the Romagna, where certain papal vassals were still showing too much independence, was signing contracts with a number of leading
But no one to whom I spoke there knew his name. He might, of course, have changed it. But if he had not done so early in his mercenary career, why do it now?
Prowling Rome by night and sometimes by day, concentrating particularly upon the area near the papal palace, I still failed to locate either of my old enemies. Military men were coming and going continually, however, and I still could not think of any better place to search. I decided to remain near Cesare Borgia, and search some more.
Given my permanent aversion to sunlight, and certain other peculiarities of my new mode of life, I considered myself as ill-suited for the life of a mercenary, or of any kind of regular soldier, as I was for that of a ruler. There were of course other ways to make oneself valuable to a great prince or general, and attach oneself to his staff. Of these, the intelligence service seemed the best suited to my training and talents. Indeed, I considered myself uniquely qualified for such a career.
I had other reasons for seeking a position. My modest stock of gold was running low, and I foresaw that I was likely to need more in the future. Food I obtained in my own way, but sometimes it would be necessary for me to purchase clothing, help, or information. Theft was of course not to be considered, nor had I any intention of allowing myself to be reduced to beggary. Honorable service seemed the only logical alternative. Therefore I met, or determined to meet, Cesare.
For both of us, it proved to be a memorable encounter. It took place in a military encampment on the edge of Rome.
I recognized him at once. If I had not previously suspected he was the youth who had once followed me to my burrow, I knew it now.
Duke Valentino was now twenty-five or twenty-six years old. He was darkly bearded, a tall man for his time, very powerfully built, and much matured from the seventeen-year-old who had accompanied his lethal little sister to what they must have thought was my final resting place.
He was sitting before a folding table, inside a tent, when I saw him for the first time. He turned his dark and piercing eyes on me, and I thought at first my image struck a spark of recognition in them somewhere. But all he said was: 'Ladislao of Hungary? I am pleased to meet you, but alas, I have never heard of you before.'
'Sir, I was formerly married to a sister of King Matthias. I have fought the Turks and other enemies of the Holy Father—I will serve you capably as a bodyguard, or in many discreet ways.' I might have said that in my own land I had commanded armies, but I might not have been believed, and in any case that was not the job for which I was applying.
The man who was standing beside the Duke stirred when I mentioned my capabilities as bodyguard. This infamous henchman was informally known to most people at the time as Michelotto—his real name was Miguel da Corella, meaning that he came from Corella, in the then half-independent kingdom of Navarre.
'Who sent you?' he demanded of me harshly.
I looked him in the eye and decided to speak him fairly, though I made my tone only a little softer than his own. 'No one sent me, sir. I make this application on my own decision.'
Corella shook his head. 'I don't like the look of you.'
Cesare was watching us in amused silence; obviously, as I thought, testing my mettle.
I said to Michelotto: 'Nor do I care a great deal for your appearance, if it comes to that.' He was indeed a swarthy, ugly wretch. 'But I will try to put up with you, provided you are good at your job.'
The Duke was laughing now, almost silently but with evidence of real enjoyment. I did not know it at the time—nor would I have cared particularly if I had known—but it would have been hard to find another man in Italy, excepting the Pope's son himself, who would speak to Michelotto in such a way.
Things might well have come to violence between us on the spot, giving me a chance to demonstrate the skills of which I had just boasted, and at the same time creating an opening on Duke Valentino's staff. But, somewhat to my disappointment, Cesare, laughing, spoke to us both in soothing words.
'Michelotto, good friend—do me a favor and leave me alone with this hot-tempered visitor. I shall be quite safe, I promise you.'
'My lord duke—!'
'Leave us.' And on hearing the tone of that command, and seeing with what alacrity it was obeyed, I knew that this Pope's son might indeed one day accomplish all the marvels that others were predicting for him.
In another moment he and I were alone—though Corella had favored me with his foulest look before departing, and I felt certain, even if I could not hear his breathing, that he was watching the tent protectively from outside.
Borgia glanced at me, fearlessly, and then away. He stretched out a powerful hand—it was said that he could straighten horseshoes in his grip—and smoothed down the sketch of fortifications that was spread out on the table. 'I think I know you after all,' he said. 'Though not by the name you gave just now. And I shall be happy to take you into my service.'
His eyes came back to mine, and he must have read my surprise at this quick acceptance.
'Why am I so quick to hire you?' he added. 'Because I need good men, men who can get things done.' He lowered his voice a notch. 'And most particularly I have need of a vampire.'
Chapter 12
As the wood shattered around the lock on the bedroom door, Angie shrank back as far as she could, cowering behind the old man's bed. Knowing what the sheer drop was like outside the window, she couldn't even think of
