The Family - Mario Puzo [152]
She was to join him in Ferrara, where they would live. Yet in Rome wedding festivities were being celebrated—festivals far more lavish and costly than her wedding to Giovanni, and many times what they had been in her marriage to her beloved Alfonso. In fact, it was more extravagant than any celebration the citizens had ever seen.
The palaces of noble families were numerous and opulent. Still, they were all given stipends to offset the costs of these feasts and festivals. The Pope seemed prepared to empty the Vatican treasury in celebration of his daughter’s brilliant match. He decreed a holiday for all Roman workers, and throughout the following week there were new pageants, processions, and festivals. Bonfires were lit in front of the Vatican, as well as before all the large castles—the one in front of Santa Maria of Portico the largest of all.
On the day the wedding contract was signed and the Pope gave his blessings, Lucrezia wore a gown of gold covered with precious jewels, which she then threw from the balcony to the crowd below as soon as the ceremony was over. It landed on a court jester, who ran through the streets crying, “Long live the duchess of Ferrara! Long live Pope Alexander!”
Cesare himself played a great part in this wedding of his sister’s, and showed his skill as a horseman by leading a street march in his sister’s honor.
That night, at the wedding celebration for all the family and their closest friends, Lucrezia performed several of her Spanish dances for the pleasure of her father.
Alexander, his face radiant, sat on the throne clapping his hands with enjoyment. Cesare, his eyes shining through his carnival mask of gold and pearl, stood behind the Pope to his right. Jofre stood to his left.
Now Alexander, clad in his finest papal vestments, stood up and slowly descended the stairs to walk across the ballroom floor toward his daughter. A hush fell over the crowd and all laughter ceased.
“Will you honor your father with this dance?” Alexander asked. “For soon you will be too far away.”
Lucrezia curtsied and took his hand. Turning to the musicians, Alexander instructed them to play, and then he took his daughter in his arms. She marveled that he was still so strong, his smile so radiant, his step so light and smooth. She felt as though she were a child again, remembering how she had placed her own tiny feet in her pink satin slippers upon her father’s, and riding his steps, how she glided along. Then, she loved her father more than life itself. It was a magical time for her when all things were possible, long before she realized that life required sacrifice.
Suddenly she raised her head and looked over her father’s shoulder, to see her brother Cesare standing just behind him. “May I, Father?” he asked.
Alexander turned and looked at Cesare with slight surprise, but he quickly recovered, and said, “Of course, my son.” Still, rather than letting go of Lucrezia’s hand and handing her to Cesare, Alexander instructed the musicians to play on . . . a light and happy tune.
The Pope stood between his children, one hand holding his daughter’s, the other holding his son’s, and with a great smile and a boisterous laugh he began to dance with both of them. With incredible energy, he began to whirl and spin, taking them with him. And his face was aglow with ecstasy.
The crowd began to laugh until their breath came short. They cheered and clapped and finally joined in, until the entire room was filled with people dancing in a frenzy.
There was only one who stood aside, one who did not dance. Behind the Pope’s throne, Alexander’s younger son, Jofre, tall and brooding, stood silent and unsmiling as he watched.
Shortly before Lucrezia was to leave for Ferrara, the Pope hosted a stag banquet to which all of Roman male society was invited. He had summoned dancing girls to entertain, and he filled the hall with card and gaming tables in celebration of his new alliance.
Alexander, Cesare, and Jofre sat at the head table with