The Family - Mario Puzo [165]
“I will not leave my chambers,” he told them, his arms folded before him.
But they reassured him that they would search the grounds, and the cathedral, and even the woods, never stopping until it was found.
When the amulet still had not been recovered by evening, and Cardinal Coroneto sent word that everyone was waiting to celebrate, the Pope agreed to go. “But if it is not brought back to me by morning, all church business will cease,” Alexander warned.
At the luxurious country castle of Cardinal Coroneto, the tables had been moved into the fabulous garden beside the lake, with fountains spraying crystal-clear water onto gaily colored floating rose petals. The rain had stopped, and the food was delicious. There were large platters of tiny Genoan shrimp in an herb lemon dressing, venison in a sauce of juniper berries, and a magnificent pancake of fruit and honey. The splendid entertainment included a Neapolitan folksinger and a group of dancers from Sicily.
The wine was plentiful, and it was poured by the servants into large shining silver goblets. Coroneto, the immensely fat Roman cardinal, raised his cup to toast the Borgia, as did the thirty rich and influential Romans in attendance.
Alexander had for the time put aside his concerns and was in a splendid mood, jovial and joking with his sons. Cesare sat on one side of him, Jofre on the other, and during the meal the Pope put one arm around each of his sons and held them in a warm embrace. It was then that Jofre reached over to say something to Cesare, and by some strange accident or design dislodged Cesare’s cup from his hand, spilling the wine, bright as blood, all over Cesare’s gold silk shirt.
A manservant came to wipe the spill, but Cesare shoved him away impatiently.
As the evening wore on, however, Alexander began to feel extremely tired and very hot. Soon he asked to be excused. Cesare felt odd as well, but was more concerned about his father, who looked ghostly pale and had begun to sweat.
Alexander was helped back to the Vatican to his apartments. By now he was burning with fever, and was barely able to speak.
His physician, Michele Maruzza, was summoned at once.
He shook his head after he had examined the Pope. Then, turning to Cesare, he said, “I suspect malaria.” Looking more closely, he added, “Cesare, you yourself do not look well. Take to your bed, and I will return in the morning to see both of you.”
The following morning, it was plain that father and son were seriously ill. Both were burning with fever.
Dr. Maruzza, not certain whether he was dealing with malaria or poison, prescribed immediate bleeding with leeches he had brought along. From an apothecary jar which Maruzza held, Cesare could see the dark thin leeches crawling around the bottom of the jar, like long brown threads come alive.
His thick black brows knit together in concentration, Dr. Maruzza gently reached inside the jar with small metal tongs and carefully pulled one of the leeches out. The doctor held the leech out toward Cesare on a small tin plate, and with great pride explained: “These are the finest leeches in all of Rome. They were purchased at great cost from the Monastery of Saint Mark, where they are nurtured and grown with care.”
Cesare winced as he watched the doctor place one of the leeches on his father’s neck, then another. The first leech fast grew dark with blood, its thready body now growing shorter and stubbier as it filled. By the time the