The Borgia Bride

XX

That night, my affair with Cesare resumed with all its former passion. He swore vengeance against Juan-but ‘at a time and place where it will be appropriate.’ I hushed him. What possible action could we take against Juan, the apple of the Pope’s eye, without ourselves being endangered? All I wanted from Cesare was reassurance that I was forever protected from Juan’s touch, and this he swore with a vehemence that was frightening.

The following morning, I rode back to San Sisto to visit Lucrezia. This time, I was armed with pastries and delicacies calculated to tempt her squeamish palate. It was early June, and the weather was extravagantly lovely; every fragrant flower was in bloom. I was ecstatic after the previous night’s encounter with Cesare-so much so that I felt guilt at going to see Lucrezia, whose own life was profoundly unhappy.

I arrived at Lucrezia’s convent chambers only to discover she was again in chapel: Pantsilea greeted me, this time even more distraught. She dismissed the other servants so that we two were alone, and only then did she show me the official document resting on a table.

I had a fair acquaintance with Latin, and read the document silently, with growing amazement. It stated that Lucrezia had been in Sforza’s family

triennium et ultra translata absque alia exus permixtione steterat nulla nuptiali commixtione, nullave copula carnali conjuxione subsecuta, et quod erat parata jurara et indicio ostreticum se subiicere.

Lucrezia’s timid signature followed.

It was an appeal for a divorce, allowable under papal law, if, as the document stated, the marriage had not been consummated in three years. In addition, Lucrezia agreed to submit herself to a physical examination by midwives, to prove her virginity.

Pantsilea’s great dark eyes were haunted. ‘His Holiness is already accepting bids from suitors. He is thinking of this only politically, without any concern for Lucrezia’s feelings. She has told me she will die before she marries again. She has been speaking strangely, Madonna, as if she is trying to say goodbye…’

She drew closer and, in a low voice, said, ‘I could be killed for telling you this, Donna Sancha, but I accept such risk if it saves Lucrezia’s life. She possesses a store of the canterella, some of which she has brought with her-’

I frowned, unfamiliar with the term. ‘Canterella?’

She was surprised by my ignorance. ‘The poison for which the Borgias are famous. Very lethal. I fear Lucrezia intends to take it herself-very soon. She was weeping as she signed the document, Donna Sancha. I think she has gone now to make her peace with God.’

I was aghast. ‘Why do you tell me such secrets? What can I do?’

‘I have been searching as quickly as I can for the canterella, to keep it from her, but I have been unable to find where she has hidden it. Can you help?’

I stared at her. She was asking me to endanger my life-but, I reminded myself, it was for Lucrezia’s sake, Lucrezia who had been so kind when despair had overtaken me. I nodded assent.

‘It is in a small, stoppered vial of green Venetian glass,’ Pantsilea continued urgently. ‘I have been going through her trunk, her jewels-but there is also a chance she has put it in one of her gowns.’ She gestured at the great armoire.

I went to it and opened its doors as Pantsilea re-opened a trunk and set to work. Lucrezia had brought only four drab gowns with her; she had not come to socialize or tarry long. I understood the noblewoman’s need for deception and protection: all my gowns had a small sheath in the bodice. Perhaps Lucrezia had designed something similar…

In order to examine the gowns properly, I had to step up into the armoire itself. The sleeves were the most obvious place, and it was there I began my search.

I had scarce started smoothing my hands over the fabric when I heard a man’s voice in the corridor-a very familiar one, calling for Lucrezia. Before I could react, Donna Pantsilea closed the armoire doors over me, hissing, ‘Do not move, do not say a word.’

This seemed ridiculous. All I needed to do was step from the armoire, close the doors, and behave innocently-hiding in the closet would provoke enormous suspicion should I be discovered. Why would Pantsilea want to keep my presence secret?

But the deed was done; I held still, staring through the small slit in the armoire doors as Cesare entered the chamber, then gave a cursory glance down at the divorce document.

‘Call for Lucrezia,’ he told Pantsilea curtly, ‘then see that we are left alone.’

She nodded. Once she had left to obey, I almost emerged, thinking to tell Cesare that I had hidden as a joke to surprise him, since I had heard his voice in the corridor. But the more time that passed, the less like a joke my appearance would seem; and after all, we had been reconciled only recently. Both Cesare and Lucrezia would look askance at such a silly antic, so I stayed in my awkward position.

Cesare paced the room, intense and humourless. Apparently, he was attending to his father’s business, but took no pleasure in the fact.

Lucrezia and her ladies then appeared. At the sight of Cesare, her heretofore glum expression brightened; she dismissed her attendants at once, and clasped her brother’s hands.

They both looked down at the divorce decree.

‘So, it is done,’ Cesare said.

Lucrezia sighed unhappily-but certainly not fatally so, as Donna Pantsilea feared. Her tone was one of simple resignation. ‘It is done.’

Comfortingly, Cesare stroked her cheek. ‘I will make sure you have an agreeable husband. Someone of higher rank than Sforza. Someone young this time; someone handsome and charming.’

‘There can be no one more charming than you.’ She put her hands upon his shoulders, and he caught her by the waist; they kissed.

It was not an embrace between brother and sister.

Motionless in the armoire, I took in a long, silent breath along with a realization that pierced like a sword. I swayed beneath a wave of unspeakable revulsion; dizzied, I reached out a hand cautiously, soundlessly, pressing against polished wood to keep from staggering.

When they drew apart, Lucrezia said, ‘I want the child to stay within the family.’

‘The old bastard is convinced it’s his,’ Cesare replied. ‘I’ve already talked him into signing a secret bull. The child will be a Borgia, with full rights. You know I will make sure it’s always well cared for.’

She smiled and took his hand; he kissed her open palm.

‘Poor Lucrezia,’ he said. ‘This isn’t easy for you.’

She gave a sad little shrug. ‘You have your own difficulties.’

‘Juan is a buffoon. It’s only a matter of time before he creates an opportunity for us to be rid of him.’

‘You are too hard on him,’ she chided gently.

‘I am too honest,’ he replied. ‘And the only Borgia intelligent enough to be Captain-General.’

‘The only male Borgia,’ Lucrezia corrected him, and he smiled.

‘That is true. Were you male, I would have no chance at the position; you would outwit me before I dared try.’ He let go her hand, rolled the document into a scroll, then tied it carefully with a ribbon. ‘I will take this to His Holiness. Will I see you tomorrow?’

His tone left no doubt that the purpose of the visit would be more than brotherly.

‘Please.’ Lucrezia dimpled. Then she paused, and added, in an odd little tone, ‘Be kind to Sancha.’

He frowned, confused. ‘Of course, I am kind to Sancha. Why should I not be?’

‘She has been good to me.’

‘I will be kind,’ Cesare said, then in a lighter tone added, ‘But when I am King of all Italy, we know who will truly be my queen.’

‘I know,’ Lucrezia replied. They had apparently discussed this topic before; yet she felt compelled to repeat, as Cesare made his way out the door, ‘But be kind to Sancha.’

It did not take Pantsilea long to return and to think of an excuse to get Lucrezia to leave her chambers, so that I could escape.

I said nothing to Pantsilea about what I had seen and heard. I had no doubt that she had pushed me into the closet precisely so that I would discover truths even more dangerous than the revelation about the canterella.

In the moments before I left without seeing Lucrezia, I located a small glass vial inserted in a pocket sewn into the sleeve of one of Lucrezia’s gowns. I hid it in my bodice without saying anything to anyone; and I was of such a mind that, when I took it back to my chambers at Santa Maria, I spent a great deal of time thinking about whether and how to put it to use.