In August of 1504, Cesare Borgia was once again on the high seas. But the bright Mediterranean sun and the loveliness of the azure sea afforded him little joy. He was bound for a Spanish dungeon in the fortress of Medina del Campo where his power would have no hope of revival and his dreams of glory fade into memories of what used to be.
CHAPTER 19
Lucrezia was riding south on what, so she had assured her husband, was a sentimental journey to see her father's grave and visit the places of her youth. In fact, she had come to plead and use every means at her disposal to persuade the Pope to use his influence in securing her brother's release from the Spanish prison in which he was languishing, and from which an occasional letter arrived telling her of his boredom and depression although he was not treated unkindly.
Lucrezia had little to offer. But one trump still remained with her? the undecaying beauty of her flesh. Delia Rovere was accounted just as much a libertine as his predecessors and Lucrezia in a moment of sarcastic humor had declared that to have been the source of gratification for three Popes should open the gates of heaven for her without fail.
She traveled with a small retinue of ladies-in-waiting and a posse of men-at-arms. Her passing occasioned no apprehension in territories which once would have regarded her as a potential spy. Her brother was being forgotten. Some people were no longer sure whether he was dead or alive. Talk was centered rather on the possibility of Spanish invasion, which, since Cesare's departure, had come to nothing so far.
Lucrezia and her party were received with mock cordiality by Julius and accommodated in the Vatican for a short stay. Delia Rovere could guess why the beautiful Borgia had come and he was interested to see what her pleading and encouragement would be.
Over a luncheon which the two of them had alone in the Pope's private quarters, Lucrezia had broached the subject.
“My dear lady,” the Pope said, thinking at the same time what an exquisite creature she was and wondering just how true were all the stories he'd heard, “your brother is a remarkable man, but remarkableness alone is not enough to allow a man pardon for misdeeds.”
“But what did he do? Didn't he recapture for the Holy See lands that had long been lost?”
“He dreamed himself another Caesar, dear lady, but Caesars depend not only on personal qualities. They depend upon propitious circumstances at the right time. The world has, perhaps, become more complicated than in the days of Republic and Empire. Too many powers are equal, so much more depends on compromise, alliance, knowing when to change allies and how to maneuver a man out of favor with his superiors.”
“A cynical outlook.”
“One that your brother practiced well enough in his day, but failed to maintain to the bitter end.”
“But if he were permitted to return to Rome, Capua? anywhere? and undertook to take no part in political or military life. What would you say to that?”
“I would say, my lady, that a man's word is a reed which will bend and bend and eventually snap.”
“Do you think me beautiful?”
The Pope was startled by this change of flow in the conversation. But he replied with a smile which contained a hint of lechery.
“Your beauty is well-known, madam, and likewise your accomplishment.”
He placed an impudent emphasis on the final word and his eyes moved down to her neck and the low bodice which revealed the rising swell of her breasts.
Lucrezia's heart beat rapidly. This thought of giving herself to a lifelong enemy, of having his prick gouge her where her dear father's and beloved Cesare's had been before, was a bitter pill. But she had nothing else to offer.
“My accomplishment is admirable,” she said brazenly, “but it demands that return be made.”
“I see. If I don't mistake you, you are offering to be my mistress at the price of your brother's freedom? as far as my persuasion can achieve it.”
Julius' penis had moved and staggered up at the thought. This would be sweet vengeance, indeed. The old man dead, the son in prison and now the daughter to lie under him while he made her a harlot, punishing her body with his bludgeon to push home the subservience of the Borgia family to his will in the most sadistically dominating manner. And why need he keep his word. She had no way of enforcing it. She was completely at his mercy. She had to take him at his word.
“Your brother would be unable to resist trying to avenge your family's honor,” he hedged, feeling for how serious her proposal was.
Her hand came under the table at which they sat and rested on his thigh, a warm, foreign pressure, harbinger of things to come.
“He shall never know,” she said.
His eyes moved over her. The whiteness of her soft skin at the half-bulge of her breasts was a spur. It was so little of that beautiful body to see and it made the hidden remainder superbly exciting.
He leaned forward and kissed the white, soft patch and Lucrezia closed her eyes to hide her shame. She felt his lips glide over the revealed bulge and his fingers pull her dress away at its top so that he could look down the front. The man was a piggish brute.
But while her thoughts were those of hatred, her actions belied them and her hand moved up his thigh and pulled at the hard core of flesh she could feel under his robes. The Pope drew back his head and looked at her. She opened her eyes and smiled, forcing her look to be one of invitation.
Julius was suddenly hot with desire. To know that this famous beauty would be his, all naked in a bed, her whole body at his disposal. It was too much for a man like him to resist? particularly as he was not bound to make any return.
“I agree to your terms,” he said.
She took her hand off his erect penis and he felt naked and filled with passion.
“How shall I know you will keep your word?”
“I will draft out the letter and send it off immediately.”
“Very well.”
Lucrezia was well aware of the probability of trickery, but her bargain was a long shot. She had to take a chance if anything was to be done for her brother.
Julius, now, could hardly keep his hands off her and as they stood up he took her in his arms and pulled her to him. He crushed his lips hungrily on hers and she fought down her anger and opened her lips so that she could flick her tongue into his mouth.
She drew back as his hand began to fumble with her body.
“Later,” she said.
He laughed fiercely and rang a bell for his servants.
Lucrezia watched while the letter was written. When it was powdered and signed, she took it in her hands and read it with a glow of hope. It explained that due to new information which had come to light, Cesare Borgia was, in fact, no longer considered guilty of the motives which had previously been ascribed to him. It asked, on behalf of the Pope, that he be returned to Rome as soon as possible as his services were needed.
The letter was sealed, a courier summoned and then dispatched to Ostia that the document might leave on the next ship setting sail for Spain. He had hardly left the Vatican when he was intercepted and the letter taken from him to be burnt to ashes within minutes.
Lucrezia, all unaware of the promptness of the treachery, feeling that there was a good chance of Cesare's rejoining her within the next month or so prepared to fulfill her side of the bargain.
The Pope excused himself for a few minutes to give her time to undress. While she stripped herself of her few garments, bitter and almost tearful at preparing to be ignominiously used by the oldest enemy of her family, the Pope was inviting one of his nearest cardinals, Cardinal Rimini, to secrete himself in the papal rooms and witness all that followed. For so overjoyed and proud was the Pope that the beautiful, luscious daughter of his old enemy was
