The Family - Mario Puzo [71]
Cesare dismounted, looking around for someone who could have seen his brother. But both the dock and the shore seemed deserted, and the only sounds he heard were the splashing of the fish as they leapt through the shimmering glasslike surface of the river.
Cesare walked to the end of the dock and stood looking across the water. There were a few fishing boats anchored there, and the crews were either out at one of the local pubs in the village or deep asleep in the bowels of the boats. He thought how it might be to live as a fisherman, when the only thing to do each day was to throw a net and wait for the invited fish to come. He smiled then, feeling more at peace.
He was about to turn and leave when he noticed a small boat moored against the stack of timber logs, a man asleep inside. “Signor? Signor?” Cesare called.
As he walked toward the boat, the man sat up and looked at him warily. “I am Cardinal Borgia,” Cesare said. “And I’m inquiring about my brother, the captain general. Did you observe anything that would cause you suspicion earlier this night?”
As Cesare stood talking to the fisherman, he spun a gold ducat between his fingers.
Seeing the coin, the man, whose name was Giorgio, was persuaded to talk freely to Cesare.
After half an hour, before he took leave of the fisherman, Cesare thanked him and handed him the gold piece. “No one must know we have spoken,” he said. “I count on you for that.”
“I have already forgotten, Cardinal,” Giorgio vowed.
Cesare rode back to the Vatican. But he told no one what he had learned.
Pope Alexander awakened earlier than usual, with a feeling of uneasiness. He had called a meeting to review the military strategy that would be used in the upcoming battles, and was convinced that his discomfort might have arisen from his anxiety over their outcome.
After kneeling for morning vespers, praying for divine guidance, he arrived at the meeting to find only Duarte Brandao in attendance.
“Where are my sons, Duarte?” the Pope asked. “It is time to begin.”
Duarte dreaded what he must tell Alexander. He had been awakened before dawn by a manservant of the captain general, who told Duarte that his master had not returned from his dinner at the vineyard. Even more ominous, the squire who had accompanied him was also missing.
Duarte had reassured the servant, instructing him to go back to the captain general’s apartments, and inform him when the Pope’s son arrived. But Duarte felt something strange in the air, and was unable to return to sleep. After lying awake for long moments, he finally got out of bed, dressed quickly, and before the golden light of day cut through the black night sky he rode through the streets of Rome, asking in the ghetto if anyone had seen Juan Borgia. But no one had.
When Duarte returned to the Vatican, he immediately woke Cesare to ask when Juan was last seen.
“He rode away from the party with his squire and the masked man,” Cesare said. “He was meant to be returning to the Vatican. His squire was instructed to make certain he arrived, for he was still quite intoxicated.”
“I have been unable to find the squire who accompanied him,” Duarte told Cesare. “And I, myself, have searched all of the city looking for Juan.”
“I will dress immediately,” Cesare said. “In the event my father has need of me.”
But Duarte noticed, as he left Cesare’s apartments, that Cesare’s boots were still wet and covered with fresh red mud.
After several hours more, Alexander became increasingly upset about Juan’s absence. He paced back and forth within his chambers, golden rosary in hand. “That boy is impossible,” he told Duarte. “We must find him. He has much to answer for.”
Duarte tried to reassure the Pope. “He is young, Your Holiness, and the city is filled with pretty women. He may be passed out in some bedroom in Trastevere that we have not yet discovered.”
Alexander nodded, but then Cesare entered with sinister news. “Father, Juan’s squire has been found, mortally wounded, and it seems