The Borgia Bride

to address Cesare quite frankly.

Lucrezia had desired a masquerade; I wore a mask of dyed blue feathers, while Cesare wore one of gilded leather. With or without the disguise, his expression would have been equally unreadable.

He took my hand with a distant air, and limited our contact to only what was necessary to perform the dance. Framed by shining leather, his dark eyes were impenetrable.

‘You have ignored my messages,’ I said, as we began our steps. It was difficult to keep the anguish from my tone; I felt doubly wounded, doubly betrayed. ‘Why have you not replied?’

‘I do not understand,’ said he, with a coolness that chilled my blood. ‘Donna Sancha, you ask a question whose answer you already possess.’

‘I know this alone,’ I countered, my voice shaking with hurt. ‘That you will not see me. That you have shamed me by making me wait for you when you had no intention of coming. What is the cause of this sudden cruelty?’

The loathing in Cesare’s manner and tone was unbearable. ‘Ask Juan.’

I froze in mid-step; Cesare had to prompt me to continue. ‘He told you what he did to me?’ I was disbelieving. ‘Then, pray tell, Cardinal, why are you angry with me?’

He looked on me with unspeakable disgust, and for a time said nothing. Finally, he offered, ‘I do not understand your point, Madonna. You engage in an affair with my brother, and you ask the cause of my anger?’

‘An affair?’ I recoiled as if struck. ‘He violated me against my will!’

Cesare remained unmoved. ‘There is a witness who says otherwise.’

‘And you would take this person’s word over mine?’

‘Madonna, Juan sports your mother’s gold ring on a small chain round his neck-a love token. He wears it privately so that it does not show, but I have seen it. He confessed his love for you and yours for him-without knowing we two were intimate.’

I let go a gasp. For a time, I was speechless-too outraged, too wounded to know how to deal with the revenge Juan had taken on me-a hard revenge, indeed, for a rebuff and single slap in public. With his false words, he had destroyed the one thing that had brought me happiness since coming to Rome.

‘This is a hellish lie!’ I exclaimed. ‘What kind of man-’ I broke off, fighting to gather control of myself, for I had altogether stopped dancing, and had raised my voice to a shout. Others dancing near us stared and murmured; such was my fury that I cared not, even though Alexander was watching us with a frown.

In a lower tone, I hissed, ‘I know what kind of a man. Your brother is a snake, the vilest, lowest sort of creature…He has not only soiled my honour, he has perpetrated the most heinous falsehood to punish me for my striking him in public. He stole that ring from me. I did not go to you that night because I was tormented, grief-stricken…and afraid that you might do something rash. So rash that I feared for your sake. Now I see I was quite mistaken.’

Beneath the mask, his lips twitched slightly, but he answered nothing.

‘Bring forth your “witness”-Giuseppe, is it not? Let him look me in the eye and see if he is capable of repeating the lie-for it was he who held me down. Press him, and the truth will come out.’

‘Giuseppe has been my trusted servant for years,’ Cesare said. ‘He despises Juan. There is nothing that would convince him to help my brother accomplish such an act.’

‘Something did, Cardinal.’ I paused in word only, my body still going through the meaningless machinations of the dance, following the rhythm of music that seemed tuneless. ‘And Juan lies when he pretends to know nothing of our affair. In truth, I slapped him that very first night because he said I might as well bed him-since I had bedded both of his other brothers.’

Cesare hesitated at that-but then injured pride overtook him, and he replied, ‘I will not be cuckolded, Donna. There is no point in arguing further on this matter.’

‘So,’ I countered softly, with a dignity and composure I did not feel, ‘you choose then to put your faith in Juan’s word over mine.’

He answered nothing.

‘It is your brother, Don Cesare, and not I, who has played you for the fool,’ I told him.

We completed our dance without a further word to each other.

That night I did not even attempt to lie in my bed. Love stripped me of all self-respect; as much as I had chided my mother for her unreasoning devotion to my father, I now found myself in the same position. Humbled, I dressed in my black tabard and veil, and moved alone through the secret corridor leading from Santa Maria to Saint Peter’s. The guards knew enough to let me pass; when the single soldier at Cesare’s antechamber door saw me, he discreetly moved down the corridor while I knocked upon the heavy wood.

The hour was late. Cesare answered the door himself, still dressed, and I found relief in the realization that sleep had not come easily to him, either. I was even more relieved to find him alone.

At the sight of me, veiled and speechless, he said nothing, merely scowled at me a time-then motioned curtly for me to enter.

At once I drew back my veil. ‘Cesare,’ I said, ‘I cannot bear being separated from you. I am willing to debase myself in order to win back your trust.’

He stood waiting for further words, his handsome, bearded face tilted at a sceptic’s angle, his arms folded across his chest; but I gave him action. I slipped out of my heavy tabard, then pulled my black chemise over my head; in an instant, I stood before him naked, and held forth my arms.

‘Here are my wrists where Giuseppe held me,’ I said, rotating them slowly to better show the yellowing bruises; then I turned and revealed my back, which Esmeralda said still bore numerous marks from the garden stones. I half-expected to hear Cesare gasp with sympathy, to curse his brother-but from behind me came only silence.

I faced him once again; there was doubt in his expression, and so I humiliated myself to the utmost degree, and parted my legs. ‘Here.’ I gestured at my thighs, at the dark bruises left by Juan’s harsh hands upon the otherwise pale flesh there.

A long silence passed between us; heat rose to my cheeks, and I slowly gathered my clothing and slipped it back on. Yet I could not bring myself to leave him. I waited, desperate, heart pounding, eager for even the slightest sign that I had recaptured his trust.

At last he said, slowly, ‘These could simply be the marks left by great passion.’

I gazed up at him, stricken to speechlessness. I left his chamber quickly, lest he see the depth of my hurt.

I did not return to my bed. Instead, I sought the dark privacy of the garden, and there sat, frozen by pain, until the night began to ease towards dawn.

XIX

Cesare and I were coolly civil on those occasions when we I could not avoid each other. As for Juan, he made sure that rumours of our ‘affair’ spread throughout Rome. Otherwise, he let me be-other than occasionally inflicting a triumphant glance upon me, especially when he saw Cesare and I pass each other in silence. It was apparently enough for Juan that he had degraded me once-he did not need to repeat the offence.

Although Jofre had heard the rumours, he persisted in showing me kindness-which only served to deepen my melancholy. I slept poorly, ate poorly; my husband sent doctors to examine me and give me tonics, but they had no cure for the ailment from which I suffered.

Cesare’s image was always before me; I could not rid myself of constant thoughts of him. Yet what more could I do to win him back? I had humiliated myself for him as I had for no other man; and I could not understand how he doubted my love or loyalty. How could he not believe me, when he had seen the bruises himself? How could he think me so duplicitous?

The answer came to me often, but each time I tried to stifle it: Only a man capable of great treachery would suspect others of the same.

So distraught was I that I altogether gave up seeking the company of others. At every opportunity, I took to my bed. Letters from my mother and Alfonso, unread and unanswered, collected in a pile upon my bedside table.