Alexander brought his thoughts back to the present with an effort. Later tonight, Cesare, if he had no other plans?and who could possibly have other plans?would be able to enjoy his sister in a nude-entwining embrace. This would be a fitting reward for his achievement and richly deserved.
He watched as his son dismounted at the steps and his bright army ranged itself behind him. When Cesare began to climb the broad flights with the two cardinals and the ambassadors who accompanied him, the Pope, his heart overwhelmed with pleasure, descended to the comfortable chambers below and arranged himself on his throne.
Cesare, his eyes alight with pleasure at the sight of his father, advanced through the marble-pillared chamber and fell upon his knees before the throne.
As Alexander, tears in his eyes, placed his hands upon his son's head, prior to embracing him, he thought what a fine and imposing figure his son had become even in the months since he'd departed. Every tiniest period of time seemed to add to his stature. Lucrezia would be overjoyed; indeed, the juices would start to run between her legs at the very sight of her brother, whom she still adored.
CHAPTER 9
With the departure of Cesare's army from Romagna, it was not long before the physical absence of troops began once again to cause rebellion. News filtered through that the town of Faenza, which had once enjoyed the protection of Venice, was arming itself to the teeth prior to proclaiming itself independent of the Holy See. Thither, after a period of recuperation, Cesare marched again at the head of his army. With winter fast approaching and the town much stronger than had been expected, he settled down to a blockade, cutting off all entry and exit. He had plenty of time.
In fact, leaving his troops in charge of one of his lieutenants, he repaired with the others to Cesena with the idea of a little light relief.
At this time of year, late autumn, there were many rustic sports held in the villages of the northern part of Italy where the village Hercules and Appolos were able to show off their prowess in such different arts as wrestling, running and archery. It was to one of these villages, dressed as peasants, incognito, that Cesare and his lieutenants laughingly made their way.
Each of these sports days was the great local event of the year. The local dignitary, duke or count, with his ladies and retinue, would have the place of honor in a temporary stand at the edge of the sports field, from which he would present the awards when the day was done. The people, drinking and making merry all day, would explode into a carnival of conviviality as darkness fell. There would be dancing in the streets and fireworks, people would get lost, there would be necking and an occasional robbery or rape. Often, long-bored wives would choose this occasion to get caught up in the crowd away from their half-drunk husbands and join in a furious and desperate copulation with any stranger who caught hold of their long hair and planted a kiss on their longing lips. In the morning, their husbands, who, perhaps, had not been particularly virtuous either, would find their wives sleeping a sleep of the dead in a bed it appeared they'd never left dur ing the festivities. At this time, too, young maids, in sober times so careful of their virginity, would, under the influence of a glass or two of wine, allow themselves to go far enough in their lovemaking for there suddenly to be no return. They would find themselves, startled and helpless, tumbled on their backs in the corner of some field, with their skirts around their waists or perhaps on the nearby hedge and their thighs unbelievably wide as a masculine rigidity brought them pain and then relief from their days of fear and wondering. Many a bastard owed his birth to the abandon of carnival time in the villages, many a maiden found herself the following day, or in the days that followed, wondering which of the many men she passed in the streets had deflowered her while she lay in half-drunk ecstasy beneath him. If it were not that so many were in the same boat and everybody knew it, there would be great embarrassment. And, of course, some of the one- night affairs developed into liaisons of a more permanent nature so that many a wife on a shopping expedition, would take to wandering through the fields and woods on a sunny morning, to return, rather late, with crumpled dress and a guilty expression, to the family bosom.
It was to join in such ribald and licentious gaiety that Cesare and his party left Cesena in high spirits one morning.
CHAPTER 10
“Who is the lady next to the Duke of Alfaro?”
Cesare voiced the question to Rossano Erfredi, one of his followers. His eyes gazed up to the nearby stand where the Duke, a pompous, condescending old fellow, was surrounded by his wife, a band of men and ladies-in- waiting and a very attractive, fair-haired girl with pale, blue eyes which sparkled occasionally like sun-flecks on a shallow, Mediterranean sea.
“I've never seen her before, Sire?but I can find out in no time.”
“She appears to be alone?she's a beauty, isn't she?”
“Indeed, Sire, worthy of any gentleman's attention, grinned Erfredi.
“I'm glad our views concur,” smiled Cesare. “Go and see what you can find out.”
With Erfredi gone, Cesare turned back to where the village champion was in the act of eliminating yet another of his wrestling challengers. The man was stocky and over-muscular, probably the village blacksmith. So far he had won all his contests against his fellow villagers and foreign rustics by sheer brute strength. He was certainly dangerously strong, Cesare reflected, but he'd have to use more than brute strength if he wanted to keep his title this year.
The crowd was excited, as much by its own effervescence as the spectacle and the cheering and encouragement was considerable. It had not escaped their attention that there was a stranger in the field this year who looked a force to be reckoned with, but their money was on their local celebrity.
“A moronic mountain,” one of Cesare's lieutenants whispered at his elbow, “but one would have to be careful if one got in close with him.”
“I have his measure? I trust.”
“If he looks like breaking one of your bones I'll put an arrow through his arm.”
“You want us to be lynched from the trees over yonder?no, I have his measure, I say,” Cesare replied.
While his bulging adversary had been breaking bones and spirits in dealing with his challengers, Cesare had, himself, come gently through the earlier rounds, with well applied pressures, to a less spectacular but just as efficient entry into the final bout which he was destined to have with the champion.
Already, the ladies had remarked his tall, slim-hipped figure with its supple muscular chest and arms which were in such contrast to the bulky power of the favorite. Many a feminine heart had already felt a twinge of desire and of curiosity as to who this handsome young man might be.
“There should be fun tonight,” Cesare said to another of his lieutenants. “The whole place is swarming with pretty women and you can see their eyes gleaming with hope for a bit of freedom.”
“Aye, Sire, I've made up my mind to have four in turn tonight?at least four.”
“What a gourmand, Enrico, you'd better mind you don't break your neck in the races.”
“It's something else I have to mind I don't break.”
Cesare chuckled. “Well, Enrico, I'm a gourmet, and I've made my single choice already.”
“Indeed, Sire?might one ask…?”
“Over there in the stand. There's only one I could mean.”
Enrico gazed discreetly towards the aristocrats' shelter.
“Ah, yes,” he sighed. “I'd reluctantly put thoughts of that away. She's much too well chaperoned by the Duke and Duchess?might even be their daughter.”
“The better she's chaperoned, the more determined she'll be to escape them once the idea's in her,” Cesare said, with a grin.
“Well, good luck, Sire?perhaps the result of the wrestling will be an omen.”
