The Family - Mario Puzo [120]
The procession made its way through the throngs of citizens who lined the streets to the Vatican. There Cesare greeted his father in Spanish as he knelt to kiss the papal ring, and present the Pope with the keys to the cities and castles he had conquered.
Alexander, his face glowing with pride, lifted Cesare to his feet, and embraced his son warmly before the delighted crowd.
Immediately after the procession, Cesare took leave of his father and made his way to his apartments at the Vatican.
Cesare himself had changed dramatically in the time he was away. Once he had grasped that the laughter on the faces of the French was because they thought him a fool, once he had tried to charm Rosetta and failed, and once he discovered that even his happiness with his wife was tainted by his memory of his sister, he vowed to hide his emotions. From that day forward his face rarely broke into a smile, and his eyes gave no hint of his anger.
Alas, his face. Cesare had suffered another severe attack of the French pox of late, and this time the disease dug deep holes in his cheeks and burrowed into his nose and forehead, leaving several round scars that would not fade. On the battlefield, this did not matter, but in the city, at a celebration, or when bedding down with courtesans, it was a curse. At twenty-five years of age, Cesare Borgia was accustomed to being praised and admired for his good looks; now he felt a loss. He covered every mirror in his chambers with black cloth, and warned the servants never to remove it.
The night terrors returned, and so to stave off his fears he slept in the day and worked throughout the night. Again, he spent many hours riding through the countryside enveloped in darkness.
Now he could wait no longer to see Lucrezia. He had been away so long. Her face had been the vision he’d followed into his victories.
Almost two years had passed since they had been together, and he wondered if she had changed. Would she still have the same effect upon him after all this time, after his marriage to Lottie and hers to Alfonso? In his heart Cesare held the hope that Lucrezia would have grown tired of her husband, for now that the papal alliances had changed, Alfonso was in fact a threat to the Borgia family.
Many thoughts filled his mind as he waited to be admitted to Lucrezia’s chambers. Though he was reckless to the point of danger in his daily life and seemed concerned about nothing, now he worried. What would his sister think? Would she love him less?
The moment Lucrezia saw her brother she rushed to embrace him, throwing her arms around his neck and hiding her face on his chest. “Good God, I have missed you so,” she said, with tears in her eyes.
When she lifted her head to look at him, she felt no shock, just heartbreak at what had befallen him. She held his face in her hands. “My dear Chez, how life has treated you . . . ”
Self-conscious, he looked away. His heart still raced as it had before, and as it had with no one else.
“You look well, Crezia,” he said softly, and he could not keep his eyes from showing how he felt. “Are you still as happy?”
She took his hand and led him to the couch. “Only heaven could bring me greater joy,” she said. “For with my babies, and Alfonso, I feel such happiness as I have never known, and I live in fear that I will soon wake from this beguiling dream.”
He felt himself stiffen. “I have visited with young Giovanni. And I see our son resembles you more than myself,” he said. “His blond curls and light eyes give him away.”
“But not completely,” Lucrezia said, laughing. “He has your lips, he has your smile, and he has your hands, like Papa’s.” She held his hands up to show him. “Adriana brings him from your quarters each day, and since you have been gone I have had the pleasure of seeing him often. He is an intelligent and reasonable child, though he also has your sudden bursts