The Family - Mario Puzo [58]
Cesare sat silent and thoughtful for a moment before respond ing. “You truly expect Juan to secure a victory for us? After his ridiculous behavior in Spain, despite our warnings not to gamble, not to bed prostitutes, and to pay proper respect to his wife and the Enriquez family, first cousins of King Ferdinand? Still you choose him?”
Alexander’s deep baritone voice was soft and reassuring. “The real commander will be Guido Feltra. He is an experienced condottiere well known for his military skill and mastery.”
Cesare had heard stories about Feltra. That he was a good man, a loyal man, there was no doubt; he was a famous patron of literature and the arts, and the beloved duke of Urbino. But, in truth, his reputation was that of the son of a true condottiere, a professional soldier, who had gained the duchy as a reward for his military services. Young Guido himself had fought in too few battles, and had won them too easily, to challenge the experience of the ruthless Orsini soldiers. Especially at their main fortress of Bracciano. Certainly, if papal troops were to try to take Ostia, the home of Cardinal della Rovere, there was real danger for his father and for Rome. But Cesare said none of this to the Pope, for he knew that where Juan was concerned his father refused all reason.
Later that night, still angry, he sent a message to his sister. Then he secured a promise from Don Michelotto to accompany her from Pesaro, for he had asked Lucrezia to meet him the following week at Silverlake.
When Lucrezia arrived at the cottage, Cesare was waiting for her. She was dressed in a blue satin gown which highlighted her golden tresses and accentuated the blue in her eyes. It had been a long ride, taking over a day and a half, and her cheeks were flushed with heat and excitement. She ran into the cottage and put her arms around her brother’s neck. “I have so missed you,” she said. But when she pulled back to look at him, she saw the anguish in his eyes. “What is wrong, Chez? What is troubling you?”
Cesare sat on one of the large leather seats and patted the footstool in front of him. Lucrezia sat holding his hand, trying to comfort him. “Crezia, it is pure madness. Father has ordered Juan home to lead the troops as captain general, and I am so full of envy I could kill him . . . ”
Lucrezia stood up, walked behind him, and began to rub his forehead to soothe him. “Chez,” she said, “you must accept your destiny. It is not Juan alone who causes you such sadness. You also are to blame. It is as though you two are still children fighting over Mother Vanozza’s Christmas cakes. I do understand how you feel, but it can only cause you harm, for Father will do as he has always done. Only what he wishes.”
“But I am a better soldier than Juan, much more suited to leading troops, and I would guarantee a victory for the Holy Church and Rome. Why is it that Father would rather have a commander who is an arrogant braggart—a fool who just appears to be leading his army?”
Lucrezia kneeled in front of Cesare now, and looked up into his eyes. “Chez, why is it that Papa must also have a daughter who appears to be happily married to the ignorant duke of Pesaro?”
Cesare smiled. “Come,” he said, drawing her close. “I need you now. For you are what is real in my life. I appear to be a man of God, but for the hat of a cardinal and the love of my father, I swear, Crezia, I fear I have sold my soul to the devil. I am not who I appear to be, and I find that unbearable.”
When he kissed her, he tried to be gentle, but he had waited so long that he could not manage it. As he kissed her again and again, she began to tremble and then to cry.
Cesare stopped and lifted his head to look at her. There were tears in her eyes. “Forgive me,” he said. “It was brutal of me.”
“It is not the pain of your kisses you see,” she said. “They are the tears of my longing for you.