The Family - Mario Puzo [3]
Rodrigo Borgia was a mountainous man, tall enough to carry his weight, handsome in a rugged rather than aristocratic way. His dark eyes often glimmered with amusement; his nose, though large, was not offensive looking; and his full sensual lips, usually smiling, gave him a generous appearance. But it was his personal magnetism, the intangible energy he radiated, that made everyone agree he was one of the most attractive men of his time.
“Chez, you can have my place,” his daughter now said to Cesare, in a voice so clear that the cardinal turned toward her with fascination. Lucrezia, standing with arms folded in front of her, her long blond ringlets hanging down over her shoulders, wore an expression of hard determination on her angelic face.
“You do not wish to hold your papa’s hand?” the cardinal asked, pretending a pout.
“It does not make me cry not to hold your hand,” she said. “And it does not make me angry.”
“Crezia,” Cesare said with real affection, “don’t be a donkey. Juan is just being a baby; he is most capable on his own.” He stared with distaste at his brother, who was quickly drying his tears with the smooth silk of his shirt sleeve.
The cardinal tousled Juan’s dark hair and reassured him. “Stop weeping. You may take my hand.” He turned to Cesare and said, “And my small warrior, you may take the other.” Then he looked at Lucrezia and gave her a broad smile. “And you, my sweet child? What shall your papa do with you?”
When the child’s expression remained unchanged and she showed no emotion, the cardinal was enchanted. He smiled with appreciation. “You are truly Papa’s girl, and as a reward for your generosity and bravery, you may sit in the single place of honor.”
Rodrigo Borgia reached down and quickly lifted the small girl high into the air to place her on his shoulders. And he laughed with pure joy. Now, as he walked with his elegant garments flowing gracefully, his daughter looked like another new and beautiful crown on the head of the cardinal.
That same day, Rodrigo Borgia moved his children into the Orsini Palace, across from his own at the Vatican. His widowed cousin, Adriana Orsini, cared for them and acted as governess, taking charge of their education. When Adriana’s young son, Orso, became engaged at thirteen, his fiancée, Julia Farnese, fifteen, moved into the palace to help Adriana care for the children.
Though the cardinal had the day-to-day responsibility of his children, they still visited their mother, who was now married to her third husband, Carlo Canale. As Rodrigo Borgia had chosen Vanozza’s two former husbands, he had chosen Canale, knowing a widow must have a husband to offer her protection and the reputation of a respectable house. The cardinal had been good to her, and what she hadn’t received from him, she had inherited from her two previous husbands. Unlike the beautiful but empty-headed courtesans of some of the aristocracy, Vanozza was a practical woman, which Rodrigo admired. She owned several well-kept inns and a country estate, which provided her with a significant income—and being a pious woman, she had built a chapel dedicated to the Madonna, in which she said her daily prayers.
Still, after ten years, their passion for each other seemed to cool and they became good friends.
Within weeks, Vanozza was forced to relinquish the baby, Jofre, to join his brothers and sister, for he had become inconsolable without them. And so it was that all of Rodrigo Borgia’s children were together under his cousin’s care.
As befitted the children of a cardinal, over the next few years they were taught by the most talented tutors in Rome. They were schooled in the humanities, astronomy and astrology, ancient history, and several languages including Spanish, French, English, and of course the language of the church, Latin. Cesare excelled because of his intelligence and competitive nature, but it was Lucrezia who showed the most promise, for above everything