The Borgia Bride

XXV

A hot, brutal summer finally gave way to autumn, then a mild winter. My life in Rome had never been more pleasant; Juan was dead, Cesare was busy with politics and courtship in France, leaving me in the company of my husband, my brother, Lucrezia, and Alexander.

Away from Cesare’s and Juan’s demeaning barbs, Jofre was more at ease and kinder. Alfonso was by nature in good spirits, and his love for Lucrezia made him even more jovial and charming; he brought out a sweetness in Lucrezia that I had only glimpsed earlier, but which now became a constant of her nature. And because his family was happy, Alexander was happy. His daughter had made a good match, and was now a duchess instead of a mere countess; his eldest son was about to make an even better match, and there was now the prospect of legitimate grandchildren.

Because of our shared love for Alfonso, Lucrezia and I became closer than ever before. I tattled on Alfonso for all his little idiosyncrasies, and Lucrezia loved to listen to stories of his childhood-how he had once tried to set fire to the tail of the Queen’s lapdog, to see whether it would burn like a candle, how he had almost been swept out to sea as a child of four, and nearly drowned. And she confessed to me how he snored, drawing in great puffs of air-ah, ah, ah-then at last letting them go with one great, sonorous gust.

I forgot the canterella I had hidden with the jewels in my bedchamber. I forgot its source; I even forgot the sight of Lucrezia in her father’s carnal embrace, the passionate kiss she had shared with her own brother. (Lucrezia reported with great relief that the Pope had left her alone ever since her pregnancy, either because old age had taken the fire out of him, or because he no longer wished to fan the rumours provoked by the birth of the illegitimate child he had supposedly got on her.) She also confessed that she and Alfonso spent every night together in her bedchamber, and he always woke there, rarely spending time in his own chambers in the men’s wing of the palazzo. ‘I had never dared hope,’ she confided, quite wistfully, ‘that my own husband should also be my ardent lover.’

One winter morning, when the bright sun had taken all the chill from the air, we women decided to go on a picnic in Cardinal Lopez’s vineyard. It was too lovely to stay inside, and Lucrezia seemed restless with an anticipation I did not understand, until she settled beside me in the carriage and confessed, ‘I have a secret. I have not told anyone, not even Alfonso-but I must tell you.’

I was lazily enjoying the sun on my face. ‘Secret?’ From Lucrezia’s smug smile, it was obviously a happy one. I suspected a party, or a gift she had obtained for her new husband.

‘I am pregnant. Two months now without my monthly courses.’

‘Lucrezia!’ Genuinely pleased, I grabbed her shoulders. ‘You are sure then? There is no other cause?’

She laughed, delighted with my response. ‘I am sure. My breasts are so tender, I can scarcely bear for Alfonso to touch them. And I must eat, eat all the time-or else I become too ill to tolerate the smell of food. You must play the fool, and tell no one-I intend to surprise him with the news at supper tonight.’

‘He will be so excited. And your father, too.’ I smiled at the thought of playing aunt to my brother’s child.

Once we arrived at the vineyard, we found the perfect pastoral setting: a copse of tall pines perpendicular to a clearing of grass and wildflowers, then rows of grape arbours, their gnarled vines bare of leaf or fruit. The land sloped gradually downward, providing a pleasant vista. A table had been brought, and as the servant girls busied themselves with unloading the food and wine, Lucrezia looked the setting up and down, dropped her ermine cape casually on the grass, and said: ‘It’s a perfect day for a race.’

I laughed. It was an entirely girlish suggestion-yet, when I met Lucrezia’s mischievous gaze, I saw that she was serious. ‘Your condition, Madonna,’ I said, under my breath.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she countered. ‘I couldn’t be healthier! And I am so excited about telling Alfonso-if I don’t do something, I’ll go mad from the energy.’

Grinning, I studied her: she had put on a bit of weight since marrying my brother, and brimmed with vigour. She was used to a great deal of walking and riding; a short run would not tax her in the least, pregnant or not. ‘Race, then, Duchess,’ I said. I eyed the perfectly straight rows of grapevines, and said, ‘It is an ideal setting.’

‘Then let’s run.’ Lucrezia pointed to the first break in the arbour. ‘That’s our end-point; first one to reach it wins.’

I slipped off my cape and tabard; both hems were long and would trip me. Lucrezia removed her own tabard as I asked, ‘And what are the stakes?’

She frowned, thinking, then one corner of her lip curled upward. ‘A diamond. Either you take one from me, or I take one from you.’

‘But whose choice?’ I persisted.

‘The loser’s,’ she said, suddenly timid.

I folded my arms and shook my head, and she laughed.

‘All right, all right, victor’s choice. I suppose I shall have to win, then.’

We held our skirts high, called for Donna Esmeralda to give the signal-and then were off.

It was scarcely a fair contest. I was taller and longer of limb and won handily, kicking up a great deal of dust. ‘So,’ I gloated, ‘I will have to pick out your finest diamond.’ Lucrezia rolled her eyes and made a fine show of being worried, when we both knew that I had no intention of claiming my prize.

Lucrezia demanded a rematch; when I refused (for I did not want her to tire herself), she insisted on racing the younger ladies-in-waiting. At one point, there were four ladies taking the runner’s stance, waiting for Donna Esmeralda to give the signal-two in each wide row.

I grew mildly concerned, for Lucrezia’s face was quite flushed, and she had begun to perspire, despite the coolness of the day. I decided to insist that lunch be served and all exertion end by the time Donna Esmeralda called for the runners to start.

As the last race began, I moved away from the arbours, toward Donna Esmeralda and the table, laden now with a tempting array of foods; Lucrezia would no doubt be hungry after all her activity.

I was looking away when I heard the subtle, troubling sound of flesh and bone colliding with earth. A shout followed. I turned to see Donna Esmeralda running as fast as her stout form would allow, towards two women in the arbour path. At the same instant, I spotted the second woman in mid-fall, her green brocade skirts ballooning above her in the air. I, too, ran until, like Esmeralda, I stood beside Lucrezia and the young lady-in-waiting who had fallen atop her, and now pushed herself slowly up and away from her mistress.

‘Lucrezia!’ I cried, kneeling down beside her. She was unconscious and frighteningly pale. I looked accusingly up at the poor lady-in-waiting, who stood trembling, knuckles to her mouth. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know, Madonna,’ she said, her voice tearful. ‘She was running and, I think, tripped on her slipper. She fell, and I could not stop in time…’ She gazed at us, her young face terrified of rebuke or punishment, but we had no interest in her, as she was unharmed. Lucrezia had taken the brunt of her fall.

I patted Lucrezia’s cheeks; they were cool, but she remained in a faint. I glanced up at Donna Esmeralda, all business.

‘The Duchess of Bisciglie is pregnant,’ I said. ‘We must get her back to the palazzo at once, and call for a doctor and midwife.’

Donna Esmeralda gasped at this news, then ran to fetch the young male drivers of our carriage, who had been off hunting. Within half-an-hour, we were back in the carriage. Esmeralda and I spread Lucrezia out across our laps, and I kept my hand pressed to her forehead, worrying about the potential for fever, and cursing myself for ever allowing the first race to be run.

By the time we arrived back at the palazzo, Lucrezia had come to herself-though she was somewhat shaken and had to be reminded of the fall.

‘That damned slipper!’ she cursed-trying to fend off the carriage driver-who insisted on carrying her into the palazzo-but in the end yielding. When he, for modesty’s sake, left her at the door of her bedchamber, we women surrounded her, propping her up as she staggered to her bed.

Each step caused her pain. ‘It is only my back,’ she said nonchalantly, ‘and a headache. I will be better by the morrow.’

The midwife awaited her, and Lucrezia submitted meekly to an examination. When the older woman at last emerged from the bedchamber, Donna Esmeralda and I leapt up from our seats to hear the news.

‘The duchess has taken serious blows to the head and back,’ the old woman reported. ‘She shows no fever, no bleeding or other signs of losing the child-but it is too early to know.’

Donna Esmeralda and I consulted with Lucrezia’s head lady-in-waiting, and I decided that we would tell the doctor not to come. His arrival might be noted by others, as his appearance always indicated a serious malady, whereas the midwife was often consulted for minor female complaints. There was no point in alarming the Pope and Alfonso. We would retain the midwife, and watch Lucrezia over the next several hours to see how she fared.

By that time, it was afternoon. Fortunately, no family supper was planned for that evening, since we women were expected to return late from our picnic.

At Lucrezia’s request, I went in and sat beside her. She was nauseated and refused offers of food or drink; her head pained her greatly, and she could barely open her eyes. Still, she insisted on remaining cheerful and conversing with me, her forehead covered with cool, damp cloths.

‘All this trouble over a stupid slipper,’ she told me. ‘The left one was too loose; I was of a mind to pull it off and run barefoot. I should have. We could have avoided all this foolishness.’

‘Donna Esmeralda would never have permitted it in cold weather,’ I retorted lightly, with the same good humour, though I was racked with guilt and concern. ‘She would have worried you would catch the grippe. So you would have had to wear the accursed slipper regardless.’

‘Alfonso will be so worried,’ she whispered. ‘Have you told him?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Good.’ She closed her eyes. ‘The surprise will have to wait, then, until I am better,’ She sighed. ‘He is going to find out soon enough about my fall. He will come here sometime after nightfall.’

‘He is a strong young man,’ I said. ‘He will recover from the shock.’

She smiled weakly, then grew silent. After a time, she fell into a light sleep. I felt relief, thinking her discomfort had eased, and she would now improve. But the midwife insisted on remaining nearby.

Lucrezia woke a few hours after sunset, with a great, terrifying moan. I leaned forward and clasped her hand. Her teeth were chattering; she was suffering too greatly even to speak.

The midwife lifted the covers and examined her, then-with a sombre glance that broke my heart-shook her head.

‘She is bleeding,’ she reported. ‘We can expect the worst.’ She turned to Donna Esmeralda and ordered several towels, a sheet, and a basin of water, then looked at me again, with a grim expression born of years of sad experience. ‘It would be best, Madonna Sancha, if you left.’

‘No!’ Lucrezia cried, in the midst of her groaning. Her flesh was white, beaded with sweat. ‘Sancha, do not leave me!’

I strengthened my grip on her hand. ‘I will not leave,’ I said, my voice steady, full of a strength I did not feel. ‘I will stay here with you until you tell me to go.’

She relaxed only for an instant; another wave of agony soon gripped her, and she squeezed my hand with crushing force.

Esmeralda returned to the room, having ordered the servant girls to fetch the required objects. ‘Summon His Holiness and the Duke of Bisciglie to the antechamber,’ I told her. ‘It is time they were notified.’

‘Sancha!’ Lucrezia gasped. ‘They will be so worried…Will you be the one to tell them?’

‘I will tell them,’ I soothed, and picked up the cloth that rested on her forehead. The side resting against her skin had grown warm, so I turned it over to the cooler side, and gently smoothed her brow with it. ‘I will be gentle, and make sure they do not worry overmuch.’

‘Yes. Yes. They both worry so…’ Lucrezia whispered, then gritted her teeth as another spasm overtook her.

Since Alfonso resided in the palazzo, he arrived first; I sent Donna Esmeralda out into the antechamber to tell him that Lucrezia had fallen in the vineyard, and that I would be out with more news as soon as His Holiness appeared. Esmeralda was a skilled dissembler, and played her part admirably; I could just make out her calm, even tone as she spoke to Alfonso. She stepped back inside the chamber with a confident nod; no doubt my brother thought his wife had merely turned her ankle.

But soon Lucrezia’s cries grew so loud that Alfonso, out in the antechamber, surely heard them. They must have stricken him to the core, so I extricated myself from Lucrezia in order to explain the situation. Fortunately, the Pope arrived just as I was embracing my brother.

At the sight of our agitated expressions, Alexander reacted with his overly emotional nature; his eyes welled up at once.

‘Dear God! It sounds as though she is dying! I could not imagine this was so serious…Sancha, what has become of our daughter?’

I pulled away from Alfonso. ‘Lucrezia is young and strong; she will no doubt survive this. It seems she was with child, but that child is surely lost now. She was racing her ladies in the vineyard…’

‘Racing in the vineyard! Who allowed this?’ Alexander demanded, with a fury born by grief. ‘Did she know she was pregnant?’

‘I think she knew. It was a simple accident, Your Holiness. The exercise should not have hurt her. Her slipper Was loose, and she tripped over it, and another girl fell on top of her.’

‘Who?’ Alexander’s tone grew vengeful.

Alfonso in the meantime was ignoring his father-in-law’s rantings; he listened to the information, then buried his face in his hands and whispered, ‘Pregnant…’ At the same instant Alexander demanded the name of the culprit, Alfonso lifted his face and asked, ‘You are sure Lucrezia will be all right?’ He turned his worried gaze towards the moans coming from his wife’s bedchamber.

I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. ‘It is hard now, but the midwife says she is young, she will survive this, God willing.’ To Alexander, I lied. ‘I do not even remember which girl fell, Your Holiness. It was an act of God, and not the girl’s fault that Lucrezia’s slipper was loose.’

The Pope covered his face and moaned with a misery to rival his daughter’s. ‘Ah, my poor daughter! My poor Lucrezia!’

‘Be strong,’ I told them both. ‘Lucrezia has asked me to stay with her. But I will come and tell you news as soon as I can.’

I left them to comfort each other, and returned to Lucrezia’s side.

Lucrezia’s suffering continued for two more hours, after which she was delivered of a small, bloody child; I saw the poor, barely-formed creature myself as the midwife caught it on a towel and examined it. It was too soon to tell whether a son or daughter had been lost.

Blessedly, Lucrezia’s moans ceased at once, but she wept at the realization that she no longer carried the child. The bleeding that followed was scarce, a good sign, and she finally fell into a sleep that the midwife pronounced healing.

The duty fell to me to inform father and husband of the bad and good news: that Lucrezia had miscarried, that no permanent damage had been done, and she was expected to recover quickly.

I kept my promise to Lucrezia: I went back into her room, where I dozed on a great velvet pillow while she slept through the night. I did not leave until the next morning, until convinced all was well.