what was being forced on her and the bite brought a wild, wavering cry from the lips of Cardinal Rimini.
Lucrezia, still struggling for breath, looked up at the Pope. Her pelvis was numb with its buffeting and her quim was a raging area of pain. She saw his head go back and then come forward sharply so that his eyes could look at her. The eyes dilated and he emitted a shrill gasp as he came into the pain that he'd caused her. There was savage conquest in his eyes and the thought that this man's sperm was a great lake in her belly was the final humiliation.
CHAPTER 20
“Mate!” said Cesare, as he moved his knight, exposing the clear path between his castle and his opponent's king. Count Benavente sighed and then smiled.
“I begin to understand why your enemies find you such a redoubtable opponent,” he said. “May I never be among them.”
“Come, your mind wasn't on the play.”
Count Benavente, who had been a frequent visitor to Cesare's confinement quarters these last few weeks, pushed back his chair from the table and stood up, looking not at Cesare but at the chessboard. He walked away after a second or two and stared out of the narrow window to the flat, green land a hundred or more feet below. Cesare watched him without speaking.
“I was thinking,” the Count said, “of the matter we mentioned a few days ago.”
Cesare glanced quickly at the door and then back at the Count.
“It's too well guarded,” he said quietly. “You'd need an army.”
“For once I believe I'm right and you're wrong,” the Count continued. “But of course I know the place and the people in a way you couldn't possibly.”
Cesare didn't answer. It was clear the Count had been mulling over some plan. Best let him speak. He liked the Count, who was a good, upright man and one of the most powerful lords in this part of Spain. He was aware, too, that in some way he fascinated the man, who had lost no opportunity of visiting, talking to and playing chess with him once their acquaintanceship had been made.
“I think, in fact…” At this point the Count, too, turned and glanced at the heavy wooden door which was closed. “I think you could be away from here within a few days.”
Cesare quickened with interest. This sounded like something concrete. If he could get out of this fortress he'd start immediately to find ways and means of getting back to Italy for the re-conquest of his realms? and then death to anyone who tried to stop him. He had many accounts to settle.
The Count played idly with a pawn, his brow creased in concentration. When he looked up at Cesare, his eyes were intent with purpose.
“I have bribed the guard two nights from now,” he said softly, “and we have the help of one of the governor's servants. At two in the morning a rope will be lowered from the battlements. It will pass your window…”
The Count took several quick steps across the room and studied the window.
“Yes…” he said. “There's just room for you to squeeze through? but you must be careful. You will climb down the rope? preceded by the servant who will make sure that everything is safe? and my men will be waiting above the castle ditch.”
Cesare got up slowly, his eyes shining. He moved over to the Count and took his hand, pressing it in both his own. The Count returned the pressure with a smile.
“Some men were meant to be hermits,” he said, “but not you.”
“But the risk to you…”
“Little enough and worth the trouble. My men will escort you at all speed to Santander. I will provide you with money and you should be able to get a boat immediately to France.” He smiled wanly: “My only regret is that I shall be deprived of your play and your conversation?but we shall meet again.”
“I hope I shall live to repay you,” Cesare said.
“Oh, come, it's a small enough thing. Any man with blood would do such for another were it in his power. But…” he became practical again, “it must be done with no noise for only the two guards on the western battlements are in our pay.”
He shook Cesare's hand again.
“My dear Duke, I must take my leave. I'll come again on the day to assure you that everything is unchanged.”
When the heavy door with its fastenings had grated shut and been bolted behind the Count, Cesare sat down at the chessboard. How long had he been here? He'd lost count of the months. He'd had odd contacts with the outside world beyond the Spanish frontier. His sister Lucrezia had written saying that she had pleaded with the Pope and that Julius had sent off a letter of reprieve. Whatever had happened, Cesare had not been released. He wondered what machinations had gone on to account for Lucrezia's certainty and then the lack of results. Certainly to get even with the Pope and then with Gonzalo de Cordoba would be two of his most desired objectives. He would offer himself to Louis. At the head of a French army, he'd soon have the whole peninsula falling over itself to make terms with him.
Smiling, he lifted a knight from the board and with it, triumphantly took a bishop.
CHAPTER 21
Through the narrow embrasure was the free, sleeping, peaceful world. The stars were out. It was a clear, moonlit night, which was a pity.
Beside Cesare was the Governor's servant, a small man, with quick intelligent eyes who kept his gaze fixed on the oblong of light.
“There!” he said suddenly.
Cesare felt a needling in his stomach as he saw the thick rope snake down across the window, swing away out of sight for a second and then float back again to be grabbed by the man at his side.
Quickly he helped his companion up onto the still of the embrasure. The man squeezed the top part of his body through and looked back.
“Better wait until I'm off, Sire,” he whispered. “It would be wise not to put too much weight on the rope.”
“Yes, yes. Off you go!” Cesare said quickly.
He watched while the man took the strain on his arms and pulled himself through the opening. He swung out high over the ground and the rope swayed away from the sheer wall of the battlements and then back, grazing him along its stone surface.
In what seemed like agonizingly slow time he began to go down the rope hand under hand, his feet twisted around it, helping to take the strain.
Cesare climbed onto the sill and knelt precariously, peering out. Down below he could see the servant descending, growing smaller, just the top of his head a vague black mass. He looked down to the distant ground. He couldn't see Benavente's men but he had no doubt they'd be there, waiting in the shadows and that above the guards were watching, cursing at the time it took for the prisoner to escape, risking their skins a little more with every second that passed.
He shifted his cramped position on the sill.
Hurry man, hurry! He could see the black dot, but it was impossible to tell now whether it was going down or had stopped. At any rate the man was still on the rope, holding him back from launching himself in the void.
Cesare strained his eyes into the moonlit darkness. It was gloomy in the shadow of the walls, which cut off the moon. What was the matter with the man? His head was still there, a tiny, indistinct point far down, surely not far from the ground. He seemed not to be moving.
And then the point moved and even from his height Cesare heard the thud. A groan rose on the still air and
