Alfonso jumped up; he was laughing heartily, slapping Gian on the back, calling him Scoundrel.
Then he pushed Gian from the room. Gian stood outside the door trembling.
With the coming of the spring Alfonso left Ferrara for one of his missions abroad and, as was the custom, appointed Lucrezia as Regent. Ippolito being so powerful in Ferrara—the most important man next to Alfonso—could not be ignored, so that it was necessary that he should be co-Regent.
Lucrezia was glad of her brother-in-law’s help, for Ippolito, when he was not suffering from imagined slights to his dignity, was a statesman of no small ability.
But Lucrezia was aware that Ippolito’s hatred of his half-brother had been increased through the terrible injury he had done him. Ippolito could not dismiss Giulio from his thoughts; he knew that many people deplored what he had done, and he sought to put himself right in the eyes of Ferrara. To do this he must prove Giulio worthless, and as Ippolito had always had numerous spies in the castle, he was fully aware of the meetings which took place in Giulio’s apartments.
He listened gravely to Alfonso’s account of how he had been tied to a prostitute’s bed, and Alfonso had accused him of lacking a sense of fun. Ippolito had said nothing. He intended to teach all his brothers a lesson.
That the plotting had begun as a game, and had never been anything else, mattered not to Ippolito. He was determined to set himself right in the eyes of the world while he brought some balm to his own conscience.
He did not tell Lucrezia what was in his mind, as he believed Lucrezia might warn Giulio and Ferrante. She was forever searching for some means of making Giulio happy, and Ippolito did not trust her.
Ippolito discovered that an ambush had been laid for Alfonso at some place on his journey. That this was done half-heartedly was of no account; and that the plotters had waited at a spot which Alfonso did not pass was quite unimportant. Ippolito arrested Boschetti and his son-in-law who, when put to torture, confessed that there had been plots against the life of Alfonso and Ippolito, and these had been concocted in Giulio’s room.
Lucrezia came to the dark room.
“Giulio,” she cried in alarm.
He sat up to stare at her.
“Alfonso is back,” she went on, “and something is wrong. Boschetti and his son-in-law have not been here for three days. They are in prison.”
Giulio leaped off his bed; the sight of his poor stricken face made Lucrezia want to weep.
“They are Ippolito’s prisoners,” she said. “There is talk of treason.”
“So … he has done this! He has made a monster of me and now he wants my life.”
“I believe it to be so,” said Lucrezia. “There is little time to spare. You should leave at once, Giulio. Do not let yourself fall into Ippolito’s hands again.”
“Do you think I care what becomes of me?”
“Giulio, you must live. You must live to prove to Alfonso that you had no intention of taking his life. There is only one way you can do this. It is through immediate escape.”
“And where should I go?”
“Isabella, your sister, loves you dearly. She hates Ippolito for what he has done to you. Go to Isabella. She will help you. And her husband is a good man.”
Giulio kissed Lucrezia’s hands; and soon she had the satisfaction of hearing him gallop away from the castle.
But Giulio came back to Ferrara. He came back because Ferrante was in the hands of his enemies, and Giulio could not rest in Mantua while Ferrante was their prisoner. He had to return to explain that their plots had no roots in reality. They had had a hundred opportunities to kill their brothers, but they had not taken advantage of these.
Isabella and Francesco had listened to the demands of Alfonso for his return, and they had allowed him to leave only when Alfonso had given them his word that Giulio’s life should be spared.
Thus Giulio came back to Ferrara where in the company of Ferrante he was forced to witness the barbarous execution of some of his friends.
Ippolito had won. He had assured Alfonso and the people of Ferrara that his prompt action had saved Ferrara from terrible civil war and bloodshed. Ippolito’s conscience was salved. He had attacked his brother in a fit of rage; but see what a villain this brother was—he was a traitor to Ferrara!
Giulio and Ferrante were sentenced to death, but the sentences were reduced to those of life imprisonment, and from that time they were placed in one of the towers of the Castle of Ferrara, there to live out their long lives, there to listen to the music of the balls which took place in the castle, to hear the sounds of the people who passed the castle’s walls. So near to the life they had known, and yet shut away from it, they were two young men before whom the long years stretched out, yet whose lives were over.
X
THE BULL IN THE DUST
In the highest tower of the fortress of Medina del Campo Cesare paced up and down, clenching his hands, biting his fists, uncontrollable fury within him.
“How can I endure this life?” he shouted at his attendants. “Why should this happen to me … to Cesare Borgia! What have I done to deserve such a fate?”
His servants cowered before him. They might have answered that he had imprisoned many men, had condemned them to a worse fate than that which he now suffered; but none dared speak to him, even though their silence could irritate him as much as words.
He had not been ill-treated. In Spain he was recognized as a prisoner of rank. He had his chaplain and attendants, and he was not entirely denied visitors from the outside world.
But to a man such as Cesare Borgia, who had dreamed of ruling all Italy, this fate was the most tragic that could have befallen him.
There were moments of fury when none knew what he would do next. He had during one of these, which had come to him while he was in the prison of Cincilla, lifted the governor in his arms and attempted to throw him over the battlements. Cesare was emaciated by sickness and frustration, but anger gave him strength and the governor’s life had been saved just in time.
As a result Cesare had been removed to this high tower in the fortress of Medina del Campo.
When he looked from his narrow window he could see the valley far below. He would sit brooding for hours over the view from that slit of a window. He longed for freedom and each day he cursed his evil fate, until those about him believed he would do himself an injury.
Then he would call for writing materials that he might write to his sister.
“Lucrezia,” he would cry aloud. “You are the only friend I have in the world. And what can you do for me? You are almost as much a prisoner as I am. To think that this evil fate could befall us … the Borgias!”
He would sink into melancholy, and none dared go near him.
But there were moments of hope. He had heard that King Ferdinand was not pleased with the work of the Great Captain, Consalvo de Cordoba, in Naples, and that he considered he was a traitor to his country. Ferdinand had a plan. He would release Cesare Borgia, set him at the head of an army and send him to make war, in the name of Spain, on Cordoba. Cordoba was the man who had delivered Cesare into the hands of Spain; but for Cordoba he would not be a prisoner now. Ferdinand decided that Cesare was indeed the man to subdue the Great Captain.
So hope was born. There was laughter in the tower of Medina del Campo. Cesare cried: “Soon I shall be marching at the head of my army. Soon I shall be in Naples. I was dying, my friends, for a breath of Italian air. The thought of breathing it revives me now.”