The Family - Mario Puzo [170]
Ercole and Michelotto left the room, but Lucrezia was surprised that her husband stayed. For the entire time they had been married, Alfonso had spent his time not in marital bliss, or even communion, but rather toying with his gun collection and spending time with courtesans. She, in turn, had spent her evenings opening her home to artists, poets, and musicians, and her days listening to the troubles of ordinary citizens. But now Alfonso stood before her, his face a palette of compassion. “May I be of comfort, Duchess?” he asked. “Or does it cause you more grief to have me with you?”
Lucrezia could not think, could decide nothing. She couldn’t even sit or walk. Finally she collapsed, and darkness obliterated all thought.
Alfonso quickly lifted her in his arms. Then he sat on the bed, and instead of laying her down he held his wife in his arms, rocking her gently.
“Speak to me, Sonny,” she said, when her eyes opened. “Fill my head with any thoughts but those that fill it now.” She could not yet cry, for her tears were far too deep to reach.
Alfonso stayed with her throughout the night, and for all the days and nights that followed while she was torn apart with grief.
The election of a new Pope could not be postponed any longer. Yet Cesare was determined to defeat Giuliano della Rovere, the ever-present enemy of the Borgia.
Cesare’s choice was Cardinal Georges d’Amboise, who was, of course, supported by the other French cardinals. The majority of Italian cardinals would hear none of what Cesare had to say, and they supported della Rovere. Cesare tried to convince the Spanish cardinals to back d’Amboise, but they had their own candidate. Those who remained loyal to Cesare at least opposed his enemy.
Florentines loved gambling, and their favorite form was betting on the election of a Pope. Aside from personal bets between individuals, the bulk of the wagering on papal elections was through the Florentine banks. And the amount bet was enormous.
The odds on d’Amboise were five to one; della Rovere was given a better chance at three to one. It seemed as though no one else was in the running, for the odds on every other candidate were greater than twenty to one. But elections were unpredictable. Many times the favorite when the conclave began remained just a cardinal when it ended.
This conclave was no exception. After the first few scrutinies—as the votes were called—it became apparent that neither d’Amboise nor della Rovere would gain sufficient votes.
After two more scrutinies, the white smoke finally appeared from the Vatican chimney. In a surprise occurrence, the college had chosen the aged and infirm Cardinal Francesco Piccolomini. And Cesare was relieved, if not completely happy.
Piccolomini, at his coronation, took the name Pope Pius III. He had not always agreed with Alexander, but he was a fair and gentle man. Cesare knew he would treat the Borgia honestly and protect them as best he could, so long as such protection was not contrary to the interests of the Holy Mother Church. By some miracle, the danger of a hostile Pope had been averted.
In the weeks following Pius’s election Cesare gradually recovered his strength, first walking up and down the length of his apartment, then strolling through his garden, finally riding his white charger through the countryside. Now he began preparing a strategy to keep his conquests in the Romagna, and to vanquish his enemies.
Then one day, when Cesare returned home from a long, vigorous ride, he dismounted to find Duarte Brandao waiting for him.
Duarte’s expression reflected his distress. “The news is not good, Cesare. Pius the Third is dead.”
He had been Pope for only twenty-seven days.
Now Cesare’s prospects were bleak. With the death of Pius, the possibility of papal protection—or even papal fairness—was a distant hope. Cesare’s enemies saw this as he did, and moved quickly. The Orsini persuaded the Colonna to join them against Cesare.
With few loyal troops in the city, Cesare retired to Castel Sant’ Angelo, still thought to be an impregnable fortress.