the thought of coming to Rome, was now so unhappy to leave it for the place I loved best.
On the second day of travel, we caught sight of the coast, and the sea; it was, as always, a tonic for me. By the time I arrived in Naples, my sorrow had eased somewhat, and I was glad to be home; but my joy was dimmed by Alfonso’s honest sorrow. I had seen the stricken look on Lucrezia’s face the day that her father told her Alfonso had gone. Yet as much as she loved my brother, Alfonso adored her even more-and each day in Naples, I was forced to gaze upon a face more troubled, more heartbroken than Lucrezia’s.
They maintained a constant correspondence-read by both His Holiness’ and our own King Federico’s spies-in which they proclaimed their constant devotion to one another, and in which my brother constantly begged Lucrezia to join him; on that issue, she never replied.
We soon learned that Lucrezia had been ‘honoured’ by being appointed Governor of Spoleto-a town far north of Rome, and thus much, much farther from Naples. For a woman to be granted a governorship was an unheard-of thing, preposterous; it must have caused a stir within the Pope’s consistory of cardinals. Yet, such was Alexander’s faith in his daughter’s intellect and judgment, and his utter lack of faith in Jofre’s, that he never considered granting my husband the governorship. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that the Pope could not bear to overlook one of his own children to grant a boon to a child not truly his.
Yet this ‘honour’ was no prize at all, but a courteous way for Alexander to keep both his children prisoner, lest they flee to the arms of their departed spouses. Jofre wrote me a stilted letter explaining that he was attended by six pages ‘sworn to keep me company and protect me night and day, never to leave my side’. In other words, he could not escape to join me even had he wished. I had no doubt Lucrezia was similarly accompanied.
I was not surprised to hear of Alexander’s precautions; Alfonso told me how he had been forced to outride the Pope’s police on the morning he had fled Rome. They had pursued him until nightfall, when he managed to make his way to Genazzano, an estate owned by friends of King Federico’s; only then did the papal forces give up their pursuit, and, said Alfonso, ‘had they captured me, I am not sure I would be alive to speak these words now.’
The revelation terrified me, and I began to feel uneasy at the thought of my brother and Lucrezia reuniting in Rome. I was torn: away from Lucrezia, I began to remember Cesare’s deviousness. While she might do her very best to protect her husband, what was to stop Cesare from doing him harm?
And Cesare despised the entire House of Aragon for personal and now political reasons.
Only two weeks after our arrival in Naples, I enjoyed a morning of riding with my ladies in the countryside. The air was cool and damp from the ocean breeze, but the sun provided a perfect degree of warmth; I could not help thinking of the miserable heat being suffered by those in Rome.
I arrived back at our palazzo to discover Alfonso receiving a distinguished guest: the Spanish Captain Juan de Cervillon, who had been part of Lucrezia and Alfonso’s wedding party. While Captain de Cervillon’s position required him to live in Rome, his wife and children resided at their family estate in Naples. I presumed he had come south on personal business, and had stopped to visit us as a courtesy.
I encountered him and Alfonso greeting each other at the entry to the Great Hall; I stopped as I passed by, on my way to a change of clothing, and welcomed the captain.
He was in his fourth decade, with dark colouring, a well-groomed, handsome soldier. He cut a dashing figure in his dress uniform, decorated with a number of medals for his heroic service over many years to His Holiness as well as other popes and kings. As I arrived, he bowed low, the sheathed sword at his hip swinging behind him as he did so, and kissed my hand. ‘Your Highness. It is always an honour and pleasure to see you again. You are looking well.’
‘Naples agrees with me,’ I said bluntly. ‘It is always good to see you, too, Captain. What happy circumstance has prompted you to come?’
He stood facing away from Alfonso, and so missed my brother’s warning glance at him; I was concerned and intrigued. So; I was not supposed to have known about de Cervillon’s visit. This realization made me all the more determined to remain and be party to whatever conversation passed between my brother and the captain.
‘I am here at the official request of King Federico,’ de Cervillon answered honestly. ‘His Majesty has been in communication with His Holiness, Pope Alexander, who is eager to negotiate the return of the Duke of Bisciglie to Rome. Of course,’ he added, lest I be offended, ‘this would include your return as well.’
‘I see.’ I forced the alarm I felt from my expression. I turned and gestured for my entourage of ladies to leave me and continue on to my chambers, then turned back towards my disapproving brother and Captain de Cervillon. ‘Then I should most certainly be included in this conversation. Please, gentlemen.’ I gestured at both my brother and the captain to enter the reception area. ‘Let me not slow our progress.’
Alfonso shot me a look that was at once angry and indulgent; angry, because I was overstepping my bounds by intruding on what should have been a private conversation between the two men; and indulgent, because he knew that attempting to exclude me from the meeting would be useless. He sighed, called for a servant to bring drink and some food for Captain de Cervillon, then motioned us both into the reception area.
I was worried that the Pope was softening towards Naples-and, odd as it may sound, I did not want him to invite my brother and me back to Rome; as sad as Alfonso was, I knew he was physically safe at home. Alexander’s recent change of heart had come in response to an angry letter from King Federico, who had become incensed when he heard of the Sforzas’s flight and Louis’ conquest of Milan. Our King had sent a message to Alexander:
This was a startling and grave threat, for the Turks were Rome’s most feared enemies. Federico’s challenge had the desired effect: Alexander was swift to reassure him that Rome was, and would always remain, Naples’ most loyal protector. Alfonso and I sat, as our station in life required, while de Cervillon stood with a soldier’s stiff formality to give what turned out to be a report.
‘Your Highnesses, King Federico has finally managed to negotiate an agreement with His Holiness which he feels is satisfactory.’
It was clear from Alfonso’s expression that he had heard about these negotiations, and had been updated as to their content, but I had not.
‘What sort of agreement?’ I asked. It was inappropriate for me, a woman, to interject myself into the conversation, but both my brother and de Cervillon were quite used to my personality and thought nothing of it.
‘His Holiness personally guarantees the safety of the Duke of Bisciglie-and your safety, too, Your Highness-if he will return to his wife, the Duchess, in Rome.’
‘Spare me!’ I could not hide my sarcasm. ‘We all know that Alexander has invited King Louis to Saint Peter’s for Christmas Mass. Are we expected to attend with him?’
‘Sancha,’ Alfonso countered sharply. ‘You know that His Holiness has since changed his attitude after King Federico’s response. He has made his apologies and pledged his support for Naples.’
‘Still, I must insist on speaking frankly here,’ I said. ‘Who is the instigator of the negotiations? King Federico, His Holiness…or Cesare Borgia?’
De Cervillon regarded me blankly.
‘Lucrezia,’ Alfonso answered, an undercurrent of indignance in his tone. ‘She has been lobbying her father steadily since her arrival at Spoleto; she has also been in touch with King Federico via the Neapolitan ambassador. She has never given up hope.’
‘I see.’ I lowered my face. I did not wish to seem ungrateful for Lucrezia’s help; I longed to see her and Jofre again myself. Yet, for fear of Cesare, I could not believe for an instant that my brother and I could safely return to Rome.
Alfonso was surprisingly mistrustful. ‘I will consider the Pope’s offer only if he puts quill to parchment.’
De Cervillon reached into his jacket, and produced a scroll sealed with wax. ‘Here is the writ, Duke.’
Alfonso broke the seal and unrolled the parchment; a look of surprise dawned over his features as he read to the end of the document. ‘This is His Holiness’ signature.’
‘It is indeed,’ de Cervillon verified.
I insisted on studying the writ myself, despite the fact that I knew any promises contained therein were worthless. It guaranteed my safety and Alfonso’s, should we choose to rejoin our spouses in Rome. In addition, Alfonso was to be granted ‘compensation’ for any inconvenience in the form of five thousand gold ducats, and additional lands once belonging to the Church were to be added to his and Lucrezia’s estate in Bisciglie.
I, being merely Jofre’s wife, was offered nothing.
