The Family - Mario Puzo [168]
Alexander, then comatose, did not hear the soft knock on the door. He did not see Julia Farnese, in her black hooded cloak and veil, enter the room. Removing these things, she turned to Cesare.
“I could not bear to have the Holy Father go without seeing him one last time,” she explained as she bent to kiss Alexander on his forehead.
“Have you been well?” Cesare asked her. But she did not answer.
“You know,” she said instead, “this man was my life, the foundation of my existence. I have known many lovers, over many years. Most are boys—callow, bullying, glory-seeking boys. But with all his faults,” she said, turning again to Alexander, “he was a man.”
As tears began to well up in her eyes, she whispered, “Good-bye, my love.” She gathered her cloak and veil and quickly left the room.
An hour later Alexander’s confessor was summoned, and the last rites administered.
Cesare moved close to his father again.
Alexander felt a great peace encompass him as Cesare’s face faded from his sight . . .
And his gaze fell upon the resplendent face of death. He found himself bathed in light, walking through the citrus groves at Silverlake, his golden rosary beads threading through his hands. It was such a glorious life. He had never felt so well . . .
Outside, his body grew black quickly, and swelled until it was so large it had to be forced into his coffin, for it seemed to spill over the sides. The top of the casket had to be nailed down, for no matter how many men tried to secure it, it would not stay closed.
And so it was that in the end Pope Alexander VI seemed not only larger than life, but larger than death as well.
29
THE VERY NIGHT of Alexander’s death, armed mobs surged through the streets of Rome, beating and killing anyone of Spanish descent—Catalans, as they were called—and looting all their homes.
At his own castle in Rome, Cesare, younger and stronger than the Pope, still struggled, and remained dangerously ill. He had been in bed for weeks, trying with all his might to recover, to resist the call of Death. Yet it seemed he was not getting any stronger. And so, despite his refusal, on the advice of Duarte, Dr. Maruzza was forced to apply the leeches.
In the following days Cesare was too weak to stand, and so he was unable to take the necessary steps to protect his properties. While the families of the rulers whose territories he had conquered held meetings and formed new alliances, he could barely keep awake. As his enemies gathered their troops to retake the towns of Urbino, Camerino, and Senigallia, and other rulers quickly returned to their cities to take up residence again in their own castles, Cesare could put up no fight. Even as the Colonna and Orsini families united and sent troops to Rome, in the hope of influencing the election of the new Pope, Cesare could not leave his bed.
Over the years, Cesare and his father had developed strategies to be put in place when Alexander died in order to safeguard his family, their riches, titles, and territories. But now, the Pope’s son remained too sick to execute those plans.
A healthy Cesare could have concentrated his own loyal troops in and near Rome at a moment’s notice. He could have seen that his fortresses in the Romagna were defended and provided for, and would have cemented his alliances. But now he could do none of it. He asked his brother, Jofre, but Jofre refused, for he was deep in mourning—not for his father, but for his wife.
Sancia had died in the dungeons before she was released.
Now Cesare called Duarte to him and attempted to assemble an army nearby, but the college of cardinals, no longer in his power, demanded that all troops be withdrawn from Rome at once.
The election of a new Pope was of the highest priority; any foreign troops would be a distraction, he was told, and could cause undue influence upon those who must vote. So strictly was this dictum enforced by the cardinals that even the Colonna and Orsini families obeyed. Soon all troops were exiled