The Borgia Bride

speaking to Father, but it is of no use. In fact…’ He lowered his voice. ‘I have come to warn you.’

Alfonso snickered sarcastically. ‘We are quite aware of the danger that faces us.’

‘Hold your laughter,’ I said. ‘Let us hear what my husband has come to say.’

‘I wish to know nothing of your plans, to hear nothing of them,’ Jofre told us. ‘I have come only to tell my Sancha that I love her and will do anything for her; and I have come to tell you, Alfonso, what I heard my father say to the Venetian ambassador.’

Alfonso became immediately sombre. ‘What did you hear?’

Venice was a friend of Naples and enemy of France. ‘During an audience with His Holiness, the ambassador mentioned that he had heard rumours that Cesare was responsible for the attack on you,’ Jofre answered. ‘“Indeed,” Father said. “Well, we are Borgias. People are always creating idle gossip about us.”

‘To which the Venetian ambassador replied, “That is true, Holiness. But I am curious to know whether you believe it is merely a rumour…or a fact.”

‘My father’s face turned quite red at that point, and he demanded, “Are you accusing my son of attacking Alfonso?”

‘No,’ said the Venetian. “I am asking you whether the Captain-General did attack him or not.”

‘Finally,’ Jofre reported, ‘my father cried out in exasperation: “If Cesare attacked Alfonso, then certainly Alfonso deserved it!”’

We considered this for a long moment.

At last, my brother said softly, ‘So. Now we know where His Holiness stands.’

I felt a thrill of fear. If the Pope secretly supported Cesare and was merely pretending to assist Lucrezia out of a desire to manipulate her, then perhaps we could not afford to wait to assassinate Cesare. Yet if he were killed now, the Pope might well retaliate against my brother…It seemed an impossible situation.

‘I wanted you to know,’ Jofre said.

Despite my fright, I was impressed by Jofre’s loyalty. ‘What you have done took a great deal of courage,’ I told him. There, on the balcony, I kissed him put of gratitude.

He could not stay; I realized that his life might be at risk. I held his hand and escorted him back to the door, where we whispered our goodbyes.

‘I want only to be with you again,’ Jofre said. I did not hurt him by telling him the truth: that I yearned, not for him, but for Naples, and would never breathe easy again until Cesare was dead and Alfonso and I were home, truly home, by the sea.

Alfonso reluctantly told his wife what Jofre had relayed to us concerning her father. The news disturbed her greatly at first; but then, she admitted that she was not surprised by Alexander’s inconstancy.

Soon our secret arrangements with King Federico of Naples were confirmed: in the hours before dawn, Alfonso and Lucrezia would both be led by a contingent of our soldiers down to a rarely-used side entrance which opened onto an alleyway. The papal guards at that entry-men in the employ of the Pope, who might sound an alarm-had already been smuggled into our apartments by Lucrezia, who had shown them the incredible jewels from her collection, jewels which would be theirs so long as they held their tongues and cooperated. The nurse who cared for little Rodrigo-who spent his nights in the nursery, away from his parents-was allowed to have her choice of Lucrezia’s gems, and chose the most precious ruby. In return, she would bring the child to his parents on the appointed night.

Once Alfonso, Lucrezia and child were outside the Vatican, a group of two dozen armed Neapolitan men would be waiting with horses and a carriage, and escort them out of Rome before Cesare or the Pope discovered their disappearance.

I had already resolved to go with them and to take Donna Esmeralda with me, though I said nothing of this to Jofre.

The escape was planned to take place in a week-assuming Alfonso continued to improve.

As hopeless as I had felt, being confined to a single suite in the Vatican, surrounded by guards and constantly fearing for my brother’s life, the realization that our imprisonment would soon end buoyed my spirits. Lucrezia’s mood, too, began to lighten as the time approached, especially as it became clear that Alfonso would be well enough to travel.

I stared often at the portraits of the sibyls, especially the one with the hair of gleaming gilt. She scowled fiercely, her forbidding gaze focused on a distant, terrifying future.

In the interim, we were, visited by the Venetian ambassador himself, who confirmed the story Jofre had told us. He kindly offered his assistance; we thanked him, and said we would call upon him when the need arose.

No doubt his presence in our chambers prompted concern in His Holiness, for Lucrezia was soon summoned to an audience with her father.

She returned from it shaken but resolute. Alfonso asked the question with a mere glance.

‘My father told me himself of his conversation with the ambassador,’ Lucrezia said. ‘He claimed that he lost his temper because of the aggressive, heated tone of the man’s questions, and misspoke himself.’ This surprised me not at all, for the Pope was aware of the Venetian’s visit. ‘He regretted his statement that Alfonso deserved whatever blow Cesare dealt him. In fact, he asked me to relay his personal apology to you.’

‘If His Holiness wishes to apologize to me,’ Alfonso countered coldly, ‘why does he not do so himself?’

Lucrezia looked to her husband, and I caught the flicker of anguish in her eyes. Despite her outrage at the murder attempt on her husband, a part of her-that part that craved normal paternal affection-wanted badly to believe her father. I felt a pang of despair. ‘Perhaps he is ashamed of Cesare,’ she offered. ‘Perhaps he has not come because he is embarrassed.’

‘Lucrezia…’ Alfonso began, but she interrupted him hurriedly.

‘He pointed out as well that we are guarded by his soldiers, and no harm has come to us in all this time. He is hurt to think that we believe he supported any attack on you. He has offered us any assistance we desire.’

‘You cannot trust him, Lucrezia,’ Alfonso said tenderly.

She nodded, but her expression revealed inner torment.

The following day-as if he had heard Alfonso’s words-the Pope appeared. The soldiers parted without questioning our visitor, or announcing him; they did, after all, serve him.

Surprisingly, Alexander arrived without a single attendant-and when Alfonso, Lucrezia and I looked up at him from our seats in the antechamber, in the company of the Neapolitan doctors Galeano and Clemente-he held up a large, gnarled hand and gestured for us all to remain seated. Out of respect, the doctors rose, bowed, and took their leave.

‘I have not come as a pope,’ Alexander said, once they had gone, ‘but as a father.’ And with a slight groan and a great sigh-for age was continuing to take its toll upon him-he sat across from us three and leaned forward, his palms resting upon white satin-covered knees.

‘Alfonso, my son,’ he said. ‘I asked Lucrezia to offer my apologies, and to explain my hasty words to the Venetian ambassador. I realize in retrospect how they might be misconstrued. I wish to make it clear that, while Cesare is my son, and also the Captain-General of my army, we are often at odds with each other. I have reproached him severely for his involvement in the attack upon you-though he continues to deny any part in it. Cesare is a soldier, and cold-hearted, nothing like me.’ He focused his yellowed eyes intently upon my brother and said, ‘You must understand, I could never raise a hand against my own blood. It is not in me; nor would I ever support it. My heart was broken-once again-to hear what Cesare had wrought against you.’

With that last phrase, he was indirectly admitting to Cesare’s guilt in Juan’s death. I knew the old man had been truly grief-stricken by Juan’s murder-and for the first time, it occurred to me that Alexander might be telling the truth. Perhaps he had no foreknowledge of the assassination attempt on my brother. He had, after all, done everything Lucrezia and I had requested. If he truly supported Cesare, all he needed do was refuse to call for his doctor, and refuse to grant Lucrezia soldiers to guard the doors to the apartment. He could have forced us all to watch Alfonso bleed to death.