The Family - Mario Puzo [23]
“Would Papa endanger your immortal soul?” he asked.
Pope Alexander, still leading the hand of Cesare, was close enough to Lucrezia to smell her warm breath upon his face, and the force of his own response to her frightened him. He suddenly dropped Cesare’s hand and said in a husky voice to his son, “Now take her, but take her slowly. Gently. Be a lover, be a man, honor her . . . but take her.”
Shaken, he turned quickly and walked across the room to sit again on his throne. But when he heard his daughter moan, when she moaned again and then again in pleasure, he suddenly was afraid for himself. His heart was beating hard and too fast; he felt himself becoming dizzy. He had never before felt such intense emotion, such arousal at witnessing a carnal act, and in one brief moment he knew. He understood completely. Though Cesare might endure, might be saved in spite of this, he himself—the Vicar of Christ on Earth—had just seen the snake in the garden of Eden. And he had been tempted. His head throbbed with the knowledge that if ever he were to touch that child again, he would be damned for all time. For the pleasure he felt was of no earthly kind, and there was no doubt that it would mean his fall from grace.
He prayed on that day, to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, to lead him not into temptation ever again. “Deliver me from evil,” he whispered earnestly, and when he looked up again his two children were lying on the bed, naked and spent.
“Children,” he said, his voice devoid of all strength. “Put on your robes and come to me . . . ”
And when they knelt before him, Lucrezia looked up to her father with tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Father. I can’t imagine giving myself to another in the same way without knowing this first. I would have been so frightened, and yet I felt such pleasure.” Then she turned to her brother. “Cesare,” she said. “My brother. I thank you too. I can’t imagine loving anyone as I love you in this moment.”
Cesare smiled, but said nothing.
And as Pope Alexander looked down at his children, he saw an expression in Cesare’s eyes that troubled him. He had not thought to warn his son of love’s one pitfall: true love empowers a woman and imperils a man. And now he could see, that though this day might have been a blessing to his daughter and strengthened the Borgia dynasty, it might one day prove to be a curse to his son.
5
ON THE DAY that Lucrezia’s husband-to-be, Giovanni Sforza, duke of Pesaro, was to arrive in the city of Rome, Pope Alexander arranged for a large procession in celebration. For he knew that Giovanni’s uncle, Il Moro, would consider this gesture a sign of respect; proof of Alexander’s sincerity in his alliance with Milan.
But Alexander also had other considerations in mind. As the Holy Father he understood the hearts and souls of his people, and he knew they enjoyed pageantry. It reassured them of his benevolence, as well as the benevolence of their Heavenly Father, and helped relieve the torpor of their drab, dull lives. Any cause for celebration brought new hope to the city, and often kept the more desperate among his citizens from murdering each other over minor disputes.
The lives of his less fortunate citizens were so devoid of pleasure that he felt responsible for providing them with some small happiness in order to feed their souls. For what else could ensure their support of the papacy? If the seeds of jealousy were repeatedly sown in the hearts of men who were forced to watch the pleasures of those less worthy but more fortunate, how could a ruler ask for their loyalty? Pleasure must be shared, for only in that way was it possible to keep the desperation of the poor at bay.
It was on this warm, balmy day, a day filled with the scent of roses, that Cesare, Juan, and Jofre Borgia rode to the high stone gates of Rome to greet the