The Family - Mario Puzo [64]
Cesare lowered his head and rubbed his eyes with resignation. “Crezia, something must be done to end this masquerade, and it must be done quickly.”
“There is nothing I wish more than to be rid of the duke,” Lucrezia explained. “And this is no secret to you, my brother. But it is your soul, and Father’s, that I am concerned about, as well as my own. I can play no part in taking the life of another for worldly advantage alone.”
Cesare had been certain his sister would be pleased when he brought her the news of the Pope’s decision on her marriage, and her reaction disappointed him. He had intended to free her from the beast who had kept them apart and make himself her savior. Now he was angry, and just before he stormed out of his sister’s chambers, he shouted: “To be caught between you and Father, my dear sister, is to be caught in the grip of the metal tongs of a vise. There is no escape. So now I ask you—what would you have me do?”
“Do not betray yourself, my dear brother, not to betray another,” Lucrezia warned.
Once she was certain Cesare had gone, Lucrezia went behind the screen to rescue Giovanni’s chamberlain, who was shaking so forcefully that his trembling could be seen from beneath the garments he had heaped upon himself. As she began to uncover the poor man, she whispered, “Have you heard what was said?”
His eyes wide with fright, he answered quickly. “Not a word, Duchess. Not a single word.”
“My God, are you a pod without seeds? Go quickly. Tell the duke all you have heard. Tell him to make haste. I, for one, do not want the stain of his blood on my hands. Now go . . . ”
And with that she led the chamberlain out through a side door of the palace.
When the breathless chamberlain reached the Borgia apartments where Giovanni was staying and confided in him what he had overheard, Giovanni Sforza went quickly to the Pope. He asked the Pope to be excused from evening vespers, for he felt the need to ride to the church of Saint Onofrio, outside Rome, to make a holy confession.
This Alexander accepted, for it was Holy Week, and it was well known that during this time, at this particular church, a sinner could receive a special indulgence which would rid his soul of all sins. Both Cesare and the Pope, knowing what was being planned for Giovanni, felt it their obligation to permit him to confess at the church of his choice, and so he was allowed to go.
But the moment Giovanni reached the church, he mounted a prize Turkish horse that had been placed there by the commander of his own troops in Pesaro. Driven by his fear, he whipped the horse harshly, and rode without stopping for twenty-four hours until he reached Pesaro. There at the gates, the horse—exhausted from the journey, foam bubbling from his mouth—fell to his knees and quickly died.
Giovanni Sforza, who was fonder of animals than of men, was heartbroken. He instructed his stable master to have the horse buried with great ceremony, and for days thereafter he stayed in his rooms without eating or speaking to anyone. Not one of the citizens of Pesaro could determine whether he was more desolate over the loss of his wife or his horse.
Lucrezia was angry with her father for not speaking directly to her about his plans, and thereby denying her the opportunity to make known her concerns. Once she discovered that the Pope had sent a papal lawyer to Pesaro to demand an annulment from Giovanni on the only grounds a committee would accept—that of impotence—Lucrezia decided what she must do. Though she had no love for the duke, reason alone would dictate that if he were forced to admit to a weakness that was both embarrassing and untrue, he would resist with the truth he must suspect about herself and her brother. And especially at this time, she was loath to let that happen.
For it was she, because of Cesare, who had—after that first night—refused to sleep in his bed, and had seldom done her