Therefore he noted the face of that man who he fancied had been amused to see his master humiliated. He would remember; but the man must be allowed to keep his tongue while they remained on French soil.
Now that she was to have a child, Lucrezia told herself that this was the happiest time of her life. She refused to look back; she refused to look ahead. The present was all-satisfying.
Each day her love for her husband seemed strengthened; and the Pope, seeing that love, seemed eager to assure her that he also had a great affection for his son-in-law.
In the apartments at Santa Maria in Portico, Cardinals and men of letters continued to assemble; there were whisperings and insinuations, and the political intent of those meetings grew more insistent. The anti-Papal and anti-French party was growing and, since the meetings took place in Lucrezia’s apartments, Alfonso would appear to be one of the leaders of it.
But like Lucrezia, Alfonso quickly wearied of politics. He was barely eighteen and there were so many more interesting things in life than intrigue. He was faintly impatient of men such as Ascanio Sforza who must continually—or so it seemed to him—be watching the behavior of others for slights, insults, innuendoes. Life was good. Enjoy it. That was Alfonso’s motto.
The Pope was so charming, so solicitous of their happiness. None had been more delighted than he to learn of Lucrezia’s pregnancy, and it astonished Alfonso to see this amazing man turn from the dignities of his holy office to the tender care of his daughter. He would walk with the pair in the Vatican gardens and make plans for their child, and he would talk to them in that rich musical voice, so that Alfonso could almost see the wonderful little boy playing in the gardens there in the years to come.
It seemed incredible that anyone would want to be the enemy of such a man; and as long as Cesare remained in France Alfonso was sure he would be completely happy.
One day the Pope said to him: “You and I in company with two of my Cardinals will go on a hunting expedition toward Ostia, for the woods there are full of game and we shall find good sport.” He had laughed to see Alfonso’s expression. “As for Lucrezia, she must stay quietly behind for a few days and rest. I fancy she looks a little tired lately, and we must think of the child. And, my son, all the time you are enjoying the hunt you will be looking forward to the pleasure of reunion with Lucrezia! Oh, you are a fortunate young man.”
Lucrezia had declared he must go, for she knew how he enjoyed a long hunt and he would only be away for a few days. So Alfonso went in the company of the Pope and Cardinals Borgia and Lopez; and he saw yet another side of the character of this man who was his father-in-law, the sportsman and hunter; and he began to believe in those rumors he had heard which declared that Alexander VI was possessed of magical powers; what he believed he now learned was that these did not come from the Devil but from God.
Alfonso would never forget the return from that hunt, the joy of riding into Rome in pale February sunshine and seeing Lucrezia on the balcony watching for their approach.
She ran down to greet them and stood among them, slender and golden-haired, for two months’ pregnancy was not apparent; and there, among the stags and wild goats and other booty of that hunt, he embraced his wife with tenderness and delight which brought tears to the eyes of the Pope and his Cardinals.
Alfonso had cried out: “I am happy … happy to be home.”
And he marveled, realizing what he was now calling his home was that City to which, but a short while ago, he had come with no little dread.
She had missed him, she told him when they were alone. She had been counting the hours to his return.
“Did you ever believe there could be happiness such as this?” asked Alfonso.
“No,” she told him. “I did not believe it.” It was true, for during her love affair with Pedro Caldes she had always known that they could never enjoy delights such as this. She had dreamed of a small house far from Rome in which she, Pedro and their child would live; she had known that if she had gained her happiness with Pedro she would have lost much of that which she shared with her father. Now she had lost nothing. She was completely happy; she was sure that when her baby was born she would cease to dream about that other child who had once been as much to her as the one she now carried.
She said to Alfonso: “No, I did not think there could be such happiness, but now I believe there can be even greater happiness than this. That will be on the day when I hold our child in my arms.”
They lay sleeping, arms entwined; and in their sleep they looked like two innocent children.
The next day brought realization to Lucrezia of what a flimsy thing happiness could be.
Sanchia came to her apartments in the morning.
“It is going to be a sunny day,” she said. “We should prepare for the journey to the vineyards of Cardinal Lopez.”
Lucrezia remembered. Last night the Cardinal had issued the invitation to the ladies, and they had accepted joyfully.
“Why,” said Sanchia, “pregnancy suits you, Lucrezia. You look more beautiful than you did two months ago.”
“It is happiness that suits me,” Lucrezia answered.
“You are not disappointed in my little brother?” Sanchia asked.
“You know my feelings for him.”
“Take care of him, Lucrezia. Take care of him when Cesare comes home.”
“You have news of Cesare?”
“I know that he is not going to marry Carlotta, but I knew that before he went.”
Lucrezia smiled sadly at her sister-in-law. Sanchia had been jealous, she knew, and she was sorry for Sanchia’s unhappiness.
Sanchia said fiercely: “He went in October. It is now February. Yet he remains unmarried. I tell you this, Lucrezia: Cesare is nothing more than a hostage of the French. The bonds are silken, shall we say, but they are nevertheless bonds. Why does Cesare not marry? Because the King of France wishes to keep him in France!”
“You mean he is so attached to Cesare …”
Sanchia laughed. “Do you think the whole world loves your brother as you do? No! The King of France is planning an attack on Italy, and if he holds the Pope’s beloved son as hostage he can be sure that he will be free from Papal interference when he makes the attack.”
“Cesare … a hostage!”
“Why not? He was once before, remember. He escaped at Velletri and thus inflicted humiliation on the French which they will not easily have forgotten. Mayhap they remember it still.”
“But the King of France greatly honors my brother. We constantly hear of the entertainments he gives for his pleasure.”
Sanchia put her face close to Lucrezia’s and whispered: “One of those who accompanied Cesare to France has written that the honors paid to Cesare are like those paid to Christ on Palm Sunday, when less than a week later there were cries of ‘Crucify him.’ ”
“Sanchia! You mean Cesare is in danger!”
“I doubt not that he will know how to look after himself. But he’ll not get Carlotta.” Sanchia lifted her shoulders. “Come, which bonnet will you wear?”
Lucrezia tried to turn her attention to the bonnets. She would not believe that Cesare was in any danger. If he did not marry Carlotta, then he would have someone else. Soon he would be home. She was not going to let fears for her brother cloud her happiness.
So they set out for the vineyards of Cardinal Lopez. They were very beautiful in the pale February sunshine and Lucrezia was determinedly merry, eager to banish the uneasy thoughts which Sanchia had set in motion.