The Family - Mario Puzo [154]
“But Papa,” Lucrezia said. “I have learned so much about entertaining and governing, and yet I am frightened to go to this new place, where I know no one favors me.”
“In no time they will be as much in love with you as we are,” Alexander said. “You need only think of me, and I will know it,” he said. “And each time I think of you, you will know it.” He kissed her on the forehead then. “Go. It is unseemly for a Pope to shed tears over the loss of one of his children.”
Alexander watched from the window. As Lucrezia prepared to leave, he waved and shouted from the window. “Be of good cheer! For anything you wish for is already granted.”
Lucrezia set out for Ferrara, accompanied by a thousand richly attired nobles, servants, musicians, and entertainers. The nobles rode on fine horses or in splendid coaches. Lucrezia herself rode a small Spanish horse, richly caparisoned and fitted with a gold-studded saddle and bridle. The rest rode on donkeys or in crude wagons. Some walked.
They stopped at each of the territories Cesare had conquered, so that Lucrezia could wash her hair and bathe. In each city the children ran excitedly to meet her party, dressed in the red and yellow that were Cesare’s colors. All along the journey, the entire entourage stopped for fantastic and hugely expensive balls and other celebrations.
The spectacular journey took more than a month to travel from Rome to Ferrara, and on the way it emptied the purses of many a local host.
Ercole d’Este, duke of Ferrara, was a man known for his stinginess, and within days he had sent most of Lucrezia’s expensive entourage back to Rome. She was forced to fight for every attendant and aide she wanted to keep in her new Ferrara household.
When most of the disappointed Romans and Spanish who had accompanied Lucrezia left on the duke’s orders, Ercole gave Lucrezia a dramatic lesson on how things were done in Ferrara. He led Lucrezia up a narrow spiral staircase to a room near the top of the castle. There he pointed to a dark brown stain on the stone floor and told her, “An earlier duke beheaded his wife and his stepson, for he discovered they were lovers. Look, my dear,” he cackled. “You can still see their blood.”
Lucrezia shuddered at the stains on the floor.
Only a few months after living with Alfonso d’Este, Lucrezia was pregnant. The people of Ferrara were overcome with happiness, for they had prayed for a male heir. But in an unfortunate circumstance, that summer was humid in Ferrara, and it became a breeding ground for the mosquitoes which carried malaria. Lucrezia fell ill.
Alfonso d’Este sent a message to the Pope, explaining that the duchess of Ferrara, Alexander’s daughter, was suffering from the fever, shaking chills, and sweats. He explained that she had recently fallen into a serious delirium, and that Alexander might wish to send his own physicians from Rome.
Alexander and Cesare were terrified at the thought of losing Lucrezia. Both feared she might have been poisoned. And so the Pope sent instructions, written in his own hand, that only the physician he was sending was to treat her.
On that very night, Cesare, disguised as a Moorish peasant, with darkened skin and a hooded gown, accompanied this physician to Lucrezia’s bedside.
Not knowing who these men were when they arrived in Ferrara—just that they were sent from Rome—both Alfonso and Ercole d’Este stayed in their own quarters while a manservant led Cesare and the physician up the stairs to Lucrezia’s room.
Though she was lethargic and delirious, Lucrezia recognized Cesare at once. Her skin was white and pale, her pasty lips cracked with fever and her stomach too tender to touch from the constant vomiting that had plagued her for more than two weeks now. She tried to greet Cesare, but her voice was so hoarse and weak that no sound escaped her lips.
Once the manservant had gone, Cesare