obtain the most intimate knowledge of any event or person-and she was the only one whose integrity I trusted as much as Alfonso’s. She, I decided, would be the first link in my chain.
That night as Alfonso and Lucrezia lay sleeping near each other, I rolled gently onto my side and rose, then took a few steps over to the small mattress where a supine Donna Esmeralda slumbered.
I knelt beside her and whispered her name into her ear; her eyes popped open as she gasped and gave a start. I put a hand over her mouth to quiet her.
‘We must speak outside,’ I said softly, and gestured towards the doors which opened onto the small balcony.
Sleepy and confused, she nonetheless obeyed, and went out onto the balcony, where she waited while I closed the French doors silently behind us.
‘What is it, Madonna?’ she hissed.
I moved next to her, so close that my mouth grazed her ear as I whispered, my voice so low I scarce could hear my own words. ‘You were right that Cesare is evil, and the time has come for him to be stopped. Today, he told me outright that he intends to finish his crime-to kill Alfonso.’
She recoiled and made a soft sound of distress; I pressed a finger to my lips for silence.
‘We must be utterly calm about this. I am sure you know of servants who can contact someone…a man whose services we can buy.’
Her eyes widened; she crossed herself. ‘I cannot be a party to murder. It is a mortal sin.’
‘The guilt is mine alone. I am ordering you to do this; God knows you bear no blame.’ I paused. ‘Don’t you see, Esmeralda? At last, we are doing Savonarola’s work. We are stopping evil. We are the avenging hand of God against the Borgias.’
She grew very still as she contemplated this.
I gave her a moment, then pressed my case again. ‘I vow before God; I entreat Him. This blood is on my head alone, and no one else’s. Think of the sins Cesare has committed-how he murdered his own brother, how he has raped Caterina Sforza and countless other women, how he has brutalized Italy and betrayed Naples…We are not the criminals here. We are the instruments of justice.’
Again she was silent. At last, her expression hardened; she had made her decision.
‘How soon is this to be accomplished, Madonna?’
In the darkness, I smiled. ‘When Alfonso is well enough to make an escape. Let us say one month from this very day-no later.’ I knew that Cesare was bound by the same restrictions as I; if he attacked my brother again too soon, even if by surreptitious means, everyone would know him to be the guilty party. And Naples and Spain would raise an outcry so great that Alexander would not be able to ignore it.
‘One month, then,’ she affirmed. ‘May God keep us all safe until then.’
Two weeks passed; July gave birth to August. During that time, Donna Esmeralda made the necessary arrangements, though she shared with me no details, for my protection. A trusted maidservant retrieved a jewel from my chambers; this was used to pay our unknown assassin.
Despite the steamy Roman heat, Alfonso developed no infections, no fevers-the result of the fastidious nursing he received from me and Lucrezia. In time, the deep slash in his thigh healed well enough for him to walk very short distances; he spent much of his time walking to and from the balcony, where he stared out at the lush Vatican gardens. Eventually, we pulled cushioned chairs out onto the balcony, with ottomans so that he could prop up his wounded leg; he sat there often and took the sun.
He and I were sitting there one afternoon conversing; Lucrezia had yielded to stress and exhaustion and lay fast asleep on her little mattress back in the bedchamber. The sun was setting, sinking down between columns of clouds that glowed deep coral-red. ‘I was a fool ever to return to Rome,’ Alfonso admitted bitterly. His natural cheerfulness was a thing of the past; these days, whenever he spoke, there was a hardness in his tone, a note of defeat. ‘You were right, Sancha. I should have stayed in Naples and insisted Lucrezia join me there. Now we are all endangered on my account.’
‘Not Lucrezia,’ I countered wearily, ‘or little Rodrigo. The Pope would never allow harm to come to one of his own blood.’
Alfonso regarded me, his eyes filled with a hollow matter-of-factness. ‘The Pope no longer controls Cesare. You forget, he could not stop him from killing Juan.’
I fell silent. I had not shared with him the fact that I had set into motion a plot against Cesare’s life; he would never have approved. Only Esmeralda and I shared the secret.
One of the guards-quietly, mindful of the fact that Lucrezia was sleeping-stepped out onto the balcony and bowed to us. ‘Donna Sancha,’ he said. ‘Your husband, the Prince of Squillace, has asked permission to visit you. He waits now at the door to the apartment.’
I hesitated, uncertain, and glanced quickly over at Alfonso.
In all this time my husband had not communicated with me. I knew that he had not supported Cesare’s action-he doubtless deplored it. But I also knew that he was by nature reluctant to anger his older brother.
‘Search him,’ Alfonso ordered.
‘We have already taken the liberty, Duke,’ the soldier offered. ‘He carries no weapons. He says he merely wishes to be permitted inside to have a word with his wife.’
I rose, motioning for my brother to remain as he was. ‘I will speak to him.’
I left Alfonso and the balcony and passed noiselessly through the bedchamber into the antechamber. The latter was not as full as it had been in the first days after the attempt on Alfonso’s life. The Spanish and Neapolitan ambassadors had gone, leaving behind their representatives; but the Neapolitan doctors rested there, always on call.
As I approached the now-open doors, the guards blocking them parted so that I could see Jofre.
‘Sancha, please,’ he said, his expression forlorn. ‘May I see you for just a little while?’
‘Shall I come out?’ I asked. Alfonso was the target; I was not afraid for myself.
My question made Jofre visibly nervous. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It will be more comfortable for us in there.’ He nodded at the antechamber.
I considered this. For the merest instant, I entertained the thought that Cesare had sent his little brother in the role of the world’s unlikeliest assassin; then I dismissed it at once. I knew Jofre’s heart; it might often grow faint, but it was incapable of malevolence.
‘Let him pass,’ I told the guards.
Jofre entered and embraced me at once. His grip contained true passion and sorrow as he whispered in my ear, ‘Forgive me. Forgive me for not coming sooner. Cesare threatened to kill me if I came, and even Father forbade me to visit. I tried before, without success, but I was determined to see you.’
I drew back from him a bit and studied him. In his voice, his face, his every gesture, was nothing but sincerity, and I believed him.
Believed him, which was not the same as trusting him. He meant well, but was not strong enough to be allowed access to secrets. I resolved to say nothing of our plans to smuggle Alfonso to Naples as soon as possible, or of our secret correspondence with King Federico. Certainly I would never reveal to him my terrible plot against Cesare. But the concern in his eyes made me draw him further into the apartment, away from the eyes and ears of the guards and the ambassadors, past the sleeping Lucrezia, out onto the balcony where Alfonso sat.
‘Don Alfonso,’ Jofre said at the sight of him. ‘Dear brother, forgive me for the sins of my kinsman. It has been whispered often enough that I am not a true Borgia-no, do not protest, Sancha, I have heard all the rumours. Neither of my brothers was ever known for their kindness; they have insulted me mercilessly on that account. Perhaps it is just as well, for I want no blood in my veins capable of such a foul crime.’
Alfonso had stared at him with mistrust before he began his speech; but once my brother heard Jofre’s words, his expression softened, and he extended his hand. Jofre caught it and squeezed it firmly, then turned back to me.
‘Sancha, I have missed you so. I do not like being apart from you. I cannot stand to see you or your brother prisoners within your own home.’
I shook my head sadly. ‘What can we do?’
‘Cesare listens to no one’s counsel, of course. He continues to have nothing but contempt for me. I have tried
