The Family - Mario Puzo [70]
Cesare watched as his brother rode away. It was then that he witnessed something that aroused his concern. As young Jofre turned the corner toward the ghetto, three men on horseback slipped out from between the stone buildings behind him and appeared to follow him. One man, taller than the rest, rode a white stallion.
After waiting a few moments so they would take no notice of the gallop of his own horse behind them, Cesare rode to the square above the ghetto. Before him, several streets away, stretched the shadows of four men on horseback, his brother Jofre among them. He could hear them talking, their voices friendly and high-spirited. Convinced that his brother was in no danger, Cesare turned his horse around and returned to the Vatican alone.
Cesare had been asleep for hours when a frightful nightmare woke him. Was it the sound of horsemen? He tried to shake himself awake, but the lantern in his chambers had burned out and his room was dark as pitch.
Sweating, with his heart beating fast, he tried to calm himself, but nothing seemed to ease the panic he felt. Blindly, he stood and searched to find a match to strike, but his hands were unsteady and his mind was filled with irrational fears. In a terror, he called aloud for his manservant. But no one came.
Finally, without explanation, his lantern flickered and there was light again. Still half asleep, he sat back on his bed. But now dark shadows surrounded him, reaching toward him from the walls. Cesare wrapped a blanket around himself, for he felt cold as ice, and could not control the shivering of his body. Then, from nowhere, he heard the voice of Noni in his ears: “There is death in your house . . . ”
He tried to shake the feeling, to dismiss the voice, but his mind was filled with dread. Could Crezia be in danger? No, he reassured himself. A convent was a safe place for her to be—her father had seen to that, by sending Don Michelotto to set a guard around the convent, carefully hidden so as not to alarm or enrage Lucrezia any further. Next he thought of Jofre. But remembering the sound of his voice with his companions, Cesare was reassured.
Juan? God knows, if there was any justice in the heavens, danger to Juan would cause him no nightmares. But then Cesare was seized with worry concerning his father. What would become of him if anything happened to Juan?
Cesare dressed quickly and approached the Pope’s chambers. Standing before his father’s room, two soldiers of the Holy Guard stood at attention, one on each side of the heavy metal doors.
“Is the Holy Father resting well?” Cesare asked, struggling to maintain his composure.
It was Jacamino, his father’s favorite manservant, who answered from the anteroom. “He was sleeping only moments ago,” he said. “All is well.”
Cesare returned to his own chambers. Yet his restlessness persisted, and there was nothing left for him to do but ride out into the country, as he always did when the beat of his heart threatened to burst through his skin. He raced to the stables, and he was about to mount his favorite stallion when he saw Jofre’s horse being rubbed down by one of the grooms. He noticed thick red river clay on the horse’s shoes.
“So my brother Jofre has returned safely home?” Cesare asked.
“Yes, Cardinal,” the young boy said.
“And my brother Juan? Has he returned?”
“No, Cardinal,” the young boy said. “Not at this time.”
Cesare left the city with a sense of foreboding. He did not know what he was looking for, but still he rode as though possessed by a demon. Everything around him appeared as though in a dream. It was in this altered state of mind that he rode through the country along the riverside, looking for his brother Juan.
The night was cool and damp, and the smell of salt from the Tiber cleared his head and calmed him. He searched the shores for evidence of disorder, but found none, and after a few hours of riding he reached the red clay of the riverside. Across from one of the large fishing docks there stood the palace of Count Mirandella,