The Family - Mario Puzo [155]
Lucrezia tried to smile back, to acknowledge his humor, but she could not even lift her arm to touch his face.
It was apparent that her condition was critical; still, Cesare became more upset when the physician confirmed it.
Cesare strode to the washstand, shed his hooded robe, and scrubbed the stain from his face. Then he ordered a servant to fetch the duke.
Moments later Ercole arrived, plainly alarmed at being summoned to Lucrezia’s room. He saw Cesare at once.
“Cesare Borgia!” Ercole gasped. “Why are you here?”
Cesare’s voice harbored no warmth. “I have come to visit my sister. Am I not welcome? Is there something in the shadows I should not see?”
“No, of course not,” Ercole said, stammering with nervousness. “I . . . I am just surprised to see you.”
“I will not stay long, dear Duke,” Cesare said. “Only long enough to deliver a message from my father—and from me as well.”
“Yes?” Ercole said, his eyes narrowed now with suspicion and dread.
Cesare put his hand on his sword as if ready to fight all of Ferrara. Yet his voice was cold and reasonable as he moved close to Ercole and spoke. “The Holy Father and I are most desirous that my sister be restored to health. If she should die, we will surely blame her hosts and their city. Am I clear?”
“Am I to assume this is a threat?” Ercole asked.
“I believe you understand me,” Cesare said, his voice more steady than he felt. “My sister must not die. For if she does, she will not die alone!”
Cesare and the physician stayed for several days. Finally, it was decided that for a cure, Lucrezia must be bled. But she refused it.
“I will not be drained white,” she cried, shaking her head and kicking her legs with what little energy she had.
Cesare sat beside her, holding and soothing her, imploring her to be brave. “You must live for me,” he whispered. “For what other reason should I live?”
Lucrezia finally stopped struggling and hid her face in Cesare’s chest so as not to see what was being done. As Cesare held her foot the doctor made several small cuts in her ankle and on the tops of her feet, until enough blood was let that the physician felt she could recover.
Before he left, Cesare kissed Lucrezia and promised to visit her again shortly, for now he was living in Cesena, only hours from Ferrara.
Lucrezia did not die. Over the following weeks, she began to heal. She began to feel warm again, her soaking sweats ceased, and she remained awake more of the time, without falling into the deep and dreamless sleep of her darkest nights. Although her child was stillborn, she gradually regained her health and vitality.
It was only in the quiet moments of the dark night that she grieved for this small child, for she had come to understand that time spent in grief was time wasted—that there had been too much grief in her life. And if she were to make the most of what she had been given, and do the greatest good, she must focus on what could be done, not on what she was powerless to change. And so it was that she began to live a life of virtue.
By her first anniversary in Ferrara, she had begun, gradually, to win the love and respect of her subjects, as well as the love of the strange and powerful d’Este family with whom she now lived.
The old duke, Ercole himself, was the first to appreciate her shining intelligence. As the months passed he began to value her counsel even more than that of his sons, and to assign critical government decisions and duties to her care.
27
JOFRE AND SANCIA lay sound asleep in their apartments in the Vatican when, without warning or explanation, several papal guards entered and pulled her from their bed. As Sancia kicked and screamed, Jofre shouted his resistance.
“This is an outrage!” Jofre said to one of the young lieutenants. “Have you spoken to my father about this?”
“It was the Holy Father himself who gave the order,” the soldier confessed.
Jofre