The Borgia Bride

be silenced-no matter how beloved, how trusted-then they were silenced.

Pantsilea’s death left me with nightmares. I had never seen the corpse, only heard it described in great detail by Esmeralda, who by then had assembled a most impressive network of informants and spies. I often woke gasping to the image of Pantsilea’s body rising like a cork from the depths of the dark Tiber, and her dead eyes slowly opening to regard me. Her bloated arm rose to point an accusatory finger: You. You are the cause of my death…

For I had taken the canterella, the poison, hidden in Lucrezia’s gown. And I could not help thinking that the poor maidservant had been murdered because the poison had been missed. I assumed that Cesare had forced the poison on Lucrezia, with instructions. And when Cesare asked for it, Lucrezia would have been forced to explain that it was missing.

Pantsilea, of course, would have been first to be blamed.

In my less guilty moments, I convinced myself the young lady-in-waiting had died for the very reason symbolized by the gag found in her mouth: she had known too much, and needed to be silenced. Had she not, after all, pushed me into the armoire as a way of sharing what she could not say: the truth of the relationship between Lucrezia and Cesare?

Lucrezia was not the only one, that spring and summer, whose thoughts turned to marriage.

One day, I was summoned to the Vatican-to Cesare’s office. The notice was signed ‘Cesare Borgia, Cardinal of Valencia’.

I sat on my bed with the parchment in my hand. The moment I most dreaded had come. Cesare would demand to know the extent of my love and loyalty; he would accept no further excuses.

In the vain hope of preventing a private confrontation, I took Esmeralda and two of my younger ladies with me; we made our way on foot through the piazza to the Vatican. There we were escorted by two guards to the cardinal’s office; at the entry, a single soldier waved my ladies away. ‘His Holiness has requested that he meet with the Princess of Squillace alone.’

Esmeralda frowned at the impropriety, but my ladies were led to a waiting area, and I entered the cardinal’s office unattended.

Cesare sat at a grand, gilded desk of inlaid ebony wood. Leather-bound tomes of canon law filled the shelves behind him; an oil lamp flickered on the desk. When the soldier escorted me in, Cesare rose, and gestured for me to take the padded velvet chair across from him.

I sat. The soldier was dismissed, and Cesare promptly vacated his desk and went down on one knee in front of me. He was wearing his official skullcap and scarlet robes; the silk hem rustled against the marble floor.

‘Donna Sancha,’ he said. Months had passed since he had bedded me, yet despite the formality of the situation, he spoke with the familiar affection of a lover. ‘I have received official word from my father that I am soon to be relieved of the burden of monastic life.’

I was not fool enough to show my trepidation; instead, I kept my tone cordial. ‘I am happy for you. This must certainly be a great relief.’

‘It is more than that,’ he said. ‘It is a great opportunity…for us.’ He took my hand gently, and held it in one of his; before I could react, he swiftly slipped a small gold ring onto my smallest finger.

The ring that had been my mother’s; the ring that Juan had stolen from me the day he raped me. I managed, through an act of supreme self-control, not to wince. ‘Where did you get this?’ I whispered.

‘Does it matter?’ he asked, smiling. ‘Donna Sancha, you know that you are, and have always been, the one great love of my life. Make my happiness complete. Say that you will marry me when I am free.’

I looked away, overwhelmed by disgust, but forced to convey a much different emotion. I remained silent a time, carefully searching for the proper words-but none existed that could save my life. ‘I am not myself free,’ I said at last. ‘I am bound to Jofre.’

He shrugged, as if this were something easily cast off. ‘We can offer Jofre the cardinalship; I have no doubt he would take it. It is easy enough to have the marriage annulled.’

‘Not so,’ I replied, my tone neutral. ‘Cardinal Borgia of Monreale himself witnessed our first marital act. There is no doubt the marriage was consummated.’

The first traces of irritation crept into his voice as he began to realize that his case was lost, and he had no real idea why, which annoyed him even more. ‘Cardinal Borgia is in our hands. He will say whatever we want. Do you not love me? Do you not wish to be my wife?’

‘It is not that,’ I said earnestly. ‘I do not wish to shame Jofre. Such an act would surely crush him.’

He stared at me as if I were a madwoman. ‘Jofre will recover. Again, there is the cardinalship, a position which will bring him power and riches to generously soothe his pain. We would send him to Valencia, to make the situation less awkward; you two would never need set eyes on each other again.’ He paused. ‘Madonna, you are not a fool. Quite the opposite: you are supremely intelligent. You realize I am to be Captain-General of my father’s army.’

‘I do,’ I answered softly.

‘I am not the ineffectual dolt Juan was. I see the opportunities such a position presents. I intend to extend the realm of the Papal States.’

‘I have always known you were a man of great ambition,’ I said, in the same uncritical tone.

‘I intend,’ he said, his voice hard, his expression intent as he leaned closer, ‘to unite Italy. I intend to be its ruler. And I am asking you to be my queen.’

I was obliged to feign an expression of surprise, to pretend I had not already heard similar words while hiding in Lucrezia’s closet.

‘Do you not love me?’ he demanded in frustration, letting the force of his emotions through. ‘Sancha, I had thought that-surely I was not mistaken as to the depth of the feelings we shared for each other.’

His words pierced my defences. I lowered my face. ‘I have never loved any man more,’ I confessed, with regret. I knew my own heart: I could easily be corrupted, and play the malevolent queen to Cesare’s king.

That gave him hope; he stroked my cheek with the back of his finger. ‘It is settled, then. We will be wed. You are too tender-hearted toward Jofre; trust me, he is a man. He will recover.’

I pulled my face away from his outstretched hand and said firmly, ‘You have not heard me, Cardinal. My answer is no. I am impressed and moved. But I am not the woman you seek for such a role.’

Red-faced, he dropped his hand and rose, his movements taut with repressed fury. ‘Clearly you are not, Madonna. You are dismissed.’

He spent no further time trying to convince me; his wounded sense of dignity would not permit it. Yet I could tell, as I rose and left to join my ladies, that he was utterly confused, even hurt, by my rejection. He could not believe my given reason-concern for Jofre-as the truth.

I was relieved he appeared unable to divine the real cause-that I knew him to be a murderer.

I expected retaliation for my refusal. I kept my stiletto beneath my pillow, close at hand; even so, I slept fitfully that night. Every rustling breeze at the window, every creak in the corridor beyond seemed to me the sounds of an approaching assassin. I had rejected Cesare, and thought my life forfeit. I did not expect to live more than a matter of days afterward; I judged each morning I rose to be my last.

I told Lucrezia that I had turned down her brother’s proposal. I was not entirely comfortable confiding in her, given her apparent talent for duplicity-indeed, I had consulted Donna Esmeralda regarding her trustworthiness, but even Esmeralda’s gossips could not agree about Lucrezia’s true character. Even so, I had to try to learn the degree of retribution I should expect from Cesare.

She listened to my news solemnly. She was honest-she did not say that I would never receive retribution. But she reassured me on one account. ‘You must understand,’ she said. ‘I have spoken with my brother since. He nurses hope that you will come to your senses. I do not believe him capable of physically harming you; his heart is still hopelessly yours.’

This was of some comfort-yet I was troubled as I contemplated what retaliation Cesare would take, once he realized that I would never yield.

Lucrezia and I continued our friendship, and met almost daily. One morning in late spring, she came to my chambers with a request that I accompany her on a walk in the gardens, and I happily obliged.

When we were out of earshot of our ladies, who were walking several steps behind us, holding their own