The Family - Mario Puzo [50]
Lucrezia and Sancia, with their ladies-in-waiting, were secure on a raised platform so that they could watch the slaughter in safety. Women at the hunt were meant to inspire and encourage the hunters, but Lucrezia, disgusted, hid her eyes and turned away. Something within her recoiled at the similarity between the destiny of those poor trapped animals and her own. Sancia, on the other hand, saw no deeper meaning in the display; she gloried in the spectacle as was expected of her, and even gave her silk handkerchief to her brother-in-law, Juan, to be dipped in the blood of a slain boar. For though not as skilled as Cesare with weapons, Juan had a taste for cruelty and a need to impress that made him the most dedicated hunter in the family. He made a show of courage by standing his ground when a huge boar charged, and then slew it with a spear and hammered it with his battle-ax.
Cesare rode through the hunting grounds with two of his favorite greyhounds, Heather and Hemp. Though pretending to hunt, in truth what he truly enjoyed was running with the hounds, and this day he was busy with his thoughts. He envied Juan. His brother could live a full life, a normal life, and look forward to a military career, while Cesare himself was committed to the church, a career he had not chosen and did not want. As the black bile rose in his throat, he felt a mounting hatred for his brother. But as quickly as it had come, he reproached himself for what he felt. A good man, especially a man of the cloth, could never hate his brother. Not only was it unnatural, not only would it make his father unhappy, but it was dangerous as well. Juan, as captain general of the papal army, had more power than any cardinal of the Catholic Church. And another truth remained: even after all these years and all his own efforts to please and excel, it was still Juan, not he, who was his father’s favorite.
Cesare, deep in thought, was quickly brought to full attention by the screaming yelp of one of his greyhounds. As he rode toward the pitiful sound, he saw the magnificent animal pinned to the ground by a spear. When he dismounted to help the wounded hound, he saw the handsome face of his brother Juan disfigured by a fierce scowl. And suddenly he knew what had happened. Juan had missed the scuttling stag and hit his greyhound. For a moment Cesare thought it might have been intentional, but then his brother rode up to him and said in apology, “Brother, I’ll buy you a pair to replace him.” Still holding the dislodged spear in his hand, Cesare looked down on the slain greyhound, and for an instant felt a murderous rage.
Then he saw his father ride up to where a boar was entangled in a net of ropes awaiting the fatal thrust of his spear. The Pope rode past, shouting, “The work of the hunter has already been done with this animal, I must find another . . . ” He kicked hard at his horse’s side then took off to follow another large boar. Other hunters, concerned by the Pope’s recklessness and speed, rode up to protect him; but by then the Pope, still a powerful man, had thrust his spear deep into the side of the boar, inflicting a mortal wound. Twice more the Pope thrust his spear, piercing the dying animal’s heart. The boar stopped his last frantic thrashing, and the rest of the hunters fell upon the carcass and hacked it to pieces.
As Cesare watched his father’s courageous display, and marveled at the strength of the man, he felt pride in his father. If Cesare himself wasn’t doing what he wanted with his life, at least he was doing what his father wanted, and he knew that was a source of joy to Alexander. And as he looked at the fallen animal, he thought