The Family - Mario Puzo [147]
Cesare greeted her warmly, and bowed to kiss her hand. “So, my dear friend,” he said, smiling. “Are you more foolish than I imagined? I place you in the finest quarters in Rome and you repay my generosity by attempting to escape? You are not quite so clever as I imagined.”
“You must have known,” she said, without emotion.
Cesare sat on a brocade couch and offered Caterina a seat, but she refused. “I suppose your attempt to escape crossed my mind,” Cesare explained, “but I counted on your self-interest, and believed you would prefer to be imprisoned in comfort, rather than in misery.”
“Imprisonment in the finest quarters is nonetheless miserable,” she said coldly.
Cesare was amused, for though she spoke with obvious resentment, still he found her charming. “But what is your plan now?” he asked. “For I am certain you cannot spend the rest of your days in Castel Sant’ Angelo.”
“What do you offer as a choice?” she asked defiantly.
“Sign over your territories of Imola and Forli on official papers,” Cesare said. “And agree not to attempt to retake them. I will then give orders to release you, and you may retire freely to any place you choose.”
Caterina smiled at him slyly. “I can sign any paper you present, but how will that prevent me from trying to recapture my lands?”
“Another ruler, less worthy, might do that,” he said, “but I find it difficult to believe that you would betray yourself by signing if you could not in good conscience agree. Of course it is always possible that you might break your word, even after it is given, but in that case we will prove in the courts of Rome that we are the legitimate rulers. And our case will be strengthened by your dishonesty.”
“You count on this?” she asked, laughing good-naturedly. “I find that difficult to believe. There is something else you are withholding from me.”
Cesare gave her a charming smile. “It is far too sentimental to be clever, but in truth, I dislike the thought of a beautiful creature rotting in a dungeon forever. It seems such a waste.”
Caterina was surprised to find she was enjoying him, but she refused to let that distortion of her heart cause her too big a compromise. She had a secret she could tell, but would she? For that decision she needed time. “Come back tomorrow, Cesare,” she said pleasantly. “Allow me to consider it.”
When Cesare arrived the following day, he had Caterina brought upstairs once more. She had made use of the maids he had sent, to help bathe her and wash her hair. Now, though her clothes were still dingy and torn, he could see that she had attempted to make herself more attractive.
He walked toward her, and instead of stepping back she moved forward. He reached for her and pulled her down onto the couch with him, kissing her passionately. But when she pulled away, he did not force himself upon her.
She spoke before Cesare, as she ran her fingers through his auburn curls. “I will do as you suggest. But others will say you are mad to trust me.”
Cesare looked at her fondly. “They already do. If my commanders had their way, you’d be floating in the Tiber,” he said. “Where have you decided to go?”
They sat up on the couch together, and he held her hand. “To Florence. Imola and Forli are out of the question, and my relatives in Milan are such bores. Florence, at least, is an interesting place. Perhaps I’ll even find another husband there—God help him.”
“He will be a lucky man,” Cesare said with a smile. “The papers will be here tonight, and you can be on your way tomorrow . . . with a reliable guard, of course.”
He began to leave, but stopped at the door and turned to her. “Care for yourself, Caterina.”
“And you as well,