The Family - Mario Puzo [109]
Alexander had searched all the cities, had spoken to countless ambassadors and offered great benefices, but still he had been unable to find a suitable wife and a strong alliance for Cesare. Yet he must, or the Borgia themselves would fall.
He needed support for the papacy, and he needed the help of the armies of Naples and Spain in order to unify the lands and quell the uprisings by the greedy warlords. Even his daughter Lucrezia’s marriage to Alfonso of Naples, under the house of Aragon, secretly rested on this intention to insure the alliance of Cesare with Alfonso’s sister, Princess Rosetta.
But now she had refused, and the son he had sent to marry a Spanish princess was instead offered a French princess for a wife. Was he losing his grip on the papacy?
He folded his hands, bowed his head before the great marble statue of the Madonna, and begged for her counsel.
“As you must already know, Holy Mother, my son, Cesare, asks if he can take for a wife a daughter of France. And His Catholic Majesty, Louis the Twelfth, offers to assist him in claiming the lands owed to your church. He will send French soldiers to accompany him in battle.”
Alexander wrestled with his thoughts and pondered his choices. If he consented to the marriage of Cesare and Charlotte, must he now cut free not only from Spain and Naples, but his beloved daughter as well? For her husband, Alfonso, was a prince of Naples, and a French alliance would no doubt destroy Lucrezia’s marriage. Yet what would happen to his family if he refused France? For surely this king would invade with or without his permission—and install Cardinal della Rovere as Pope.
If the French came through Milan, Alexander was certain, Ludovico would run without a fight. More important, though, once Naples had to take up arms, what would become of his son Jofre and his wife, Sancia?
The Pope searched desperately for just one reason to choose Spain over France, to deny Cesare his French wife. But after kneeling, praying, and pacing for hours, Alexander could find none. On the other hand, if the well-trained French soldiers rode with Cesare to overtake the territories now run by local barons and warlords, he could be crowned duke of the Romagna. The Borgia family would then be safe and the papacy secure.
He stayed all night, watching the flickering candles and pleading for divine inspiration. And when he left the chapel in the early hours of the morning, he had arrived at his decision, though reluctantly.
Duarte Brandao was waiting in the Pope’s chambers on his return, for he understood Alexander’s struggle.
“Duarte, my friend,” the Pope said. “I have considered this as carefully as I am able. And I have come to a conclusion. I need one piece of parchment so that I may pen my reply in order that I may lay my head on a pillow and finally rest.”
Duarte watched the Pope sit at his desk, and for the first time he looked aged and tired. He handed the Pope his pen.
Alexander’s hand was firm, but his message to Cesare was short. It said only, “My dearest son. Match excellent. Proceed.”
The holy city of Rome held great festivities on the day of Cesare Borgia’s marriage to Charlotte d’Albret in France. The Pope ordered a huge display of fireworks, a gigantic streaming light show to brighten the sky, and bonfires to be set to lighten the streets. Ah, such jubilation!
Lucrezia, at home in Santa Maria in Portico with Prince Alfonso, watched in horror as one of the largest fires was lit before her palace. Not that she wasn’t happy for her brother, for she loved him dearly—but what of her dear husband, for whom this new political alliance could only mean disaster?
When word reached them that Cardinal Ascanio Sforza had fled the city, accompanied by several other cardinals aligned with Naples, Alfonso was filled with fear and confusion about his future.