He discussed his plans with his visitors; he would spend hours stretched out on the floor, studying maps. There was an atmosphere of excitement in the tower—until news came that Ferdinand had changed his plans and had set out in person for Naples.
Then it seemed that madness possessed Cesare. He threw himself about the tower so that his servants were sure he would do himself an injury. He stood at the window looking down, and all believed that he planned to throw himself out.
The Count of Benavente, a nobleman who lived close by, had visited Cesare out of curiosity, and become fascinated by him. This Count, seeing thoughts of suicide in Cesare’s eyes, said to him: “Are you thinking of throwing yourself out of the window, my friend?”
Cesare answered: “It would be an escape from what is rapidly becoming intolerable.”
“By the window certainly,” said Benavente. “But why jump out? Why not lower yourself down by means of a rope?”
“I have my visitors,” said Cesare. “I am treated as a prisoner of some state. But my jailers would never allow a rope to be brought to me.”
“It might be arranged,” said Benavente.
Cesare now had an object in life. His spirits revived and the old vitality was with him. His chaplain and his servant Garcia were in the plot, and eventually, a little at a time, the rope was smuggled into the tower.
There came a day when, afraid that the guards were becoming suspicious, Cesare decided that there must be no more delay. The pieces of rope were securely joined together, and the escape planned for a certain dark night.
Garcia descended first and to his horror he discovered, when he reached the end of the rope, that he was too far from the ground to jump with safety. But jump he must; and he lay groaning in the ditch about the castle, his legs broken. Cesare had by this time descended and seen what had happened; there was no alternative but to jump; he did so and, as with Garcia, both legs were broken as were his wrists and several bones in his fingers.
Writhing with pain, cursing his ill-luck, he lay on the ground. But it was not long before Benavente came hurrying to him and, seeing his condition, picked him up with the aid of his groom and set him on a horse.
Cesare was in agony, but at least he had escaped. As for Garcia, there was not time to save him as the castle was already alert.
Garcia was left to be captured and executed, but Cesare was taken by Benavente to Villalon, there to have his bones reset and recover sufficiently to undertake the journey he had planned into the Kingdom of Navarre, which was ruled over by his brother-in-law.
At last he was well enough and, thanking his friend Benavente, he left him and with two attendants rode with all speed toward Navarre.
Lucrezia never ceased to think of her brother.
The times were anxious. Julius was proving a warlike Pope and, although during Alexander’s lifetime he had been his bitter enemy, decrying the ambitious desire to subdue the neighboring states of Italy, now that he was sure of his own power he was determined to restore the Papal states to the Church; and it seemed that his policy ran along lines similar to those pursued by Alexander.
He had made an alliance with the old Orsini, marrying his daughter, Felice della Rovere, to Gian Giordano Orsini; his nephew Niccolo della Rovere was married to Laura, the daughter of the beautiful Giulia, wife of Orsino Orsini. Laura was said by some to be the daughter of Alexander, but Julius chose to ignore this and accept her as an Orsini.
Having made peace with the Orsinis and the Colonnas, Julius felt that he was safe at home; he was therefore ready for conquest farther afield, and went forth to attack the Baglioni of Perugia and the Bentivoglio of Bologna.
The Bentivoglios had always been firm friends of the Este family, but Ferrara had been forced into alliance with the Church. Julius however had never had a great opinion of Ippolito and had reproved him often for his vain dress and manners, suggesting that he behaved more like a woman than a man and did not conduct himself in a manner befitting a member of the Sacred College. Moreover Julius had been shocked by recent happenings in Ferrara, and considered that Alfonso had been wrong not to have punished Ippolito for his terrible outrage on Giulio.
Therefore there were rumors in Ferrara that this friendship between them and the Pope was an uneasy one, and that the latter might, when he had completed his conquest of Perugia and Bologna, turn his attention to Ferrara.
Lucrezia felt apprehensive and ready for any terror that might come; never did a day pass without her thinking of those two young men who had been her frequent companions and who were now shut away in the tower of the castle. Disaster could descend, swift and unexpected. Who could know what would happen next?
Her old friend, Giulia Farnese, wrote to her now and then. Giulia was once more installed at the Papal Court now that her daughter Laura was married to the Pope’s nephew. Giulia recalled the old days when they had been constant companions and had washed their hair together and competed for Alexander’s attention. She wrote without nostalgia, which meant that life to her now was as good as it had been in Alexander’s time; and Lucrezia had heard that Giulia, even now only a little more than thirty, was reckoned to be the most beautiful and attractive woman in Rome. She was surrounded by admirers and even her young daughter, herself a beauty, could not compete with her.
Giulia had known great triumphs. Not so Sanchia, that other friend. Sanchia had died recently in Naples in the prime of her youth and beauty, deeply mourned by her last lover Consalvo de Cordoba, the Great Captain who had lured Cesare to the Castel del Ovo that he might be made prisoner of Spain.
It was into this uneasy atmosphere that the great news broke.
Lucrezia was with her women when she heard that a messenger was below and had news of such importance that he refused to impart it to any but the Duchessa herself.
The page knelt at her feet and poured out the great news: Cesare was free. He had reached Navarre. He was preparing now to regain all he had lost. He needed the help of the one he trusted more than any other in the world.
Lucrezia listening felt young again. She laughed as she had not laughed for a very long time.
Then she took the page into her arms, and kissed his forehead.
“You shall never want while you live,” she told him, “for bringing me this news.”
Lucrezia was light-hearted. She had another reason for rejoicing besides the escape of Cesare. A guest had arrived in Ferrara and a ball was to be given in his honor.
She had not realized how much pleasure this event would give her and she was astonished that she could feel so happy. Often she would look up at the tower in which those two young men were incarcerated and, thinking of the melancholy turn to Giulio’s life, had come near to weeping. She had pleaded with Alfonso, and the two brothers had been allowed to be together. She knew what comfort this would be to them, and it must have been indeed a happy day when Giulio and Ferrante were told that their confinement was no longer to be solitary.
But Lucrezia was not allowed to see them for Alfonso had forbidden any to visit them. Their names, he warned Lucrezia, were to be no more mentioned. He had shown mercy to his brothers who, he declared, had plotted against his life; they were together in captivity, and they were allowed a window from which to look out on the world. They would be fed and clothed until they died; he had commissioned men to look after that side of their lives. As for the rest, they were dead as far as all others were concerned.
“Why do you treat them thus?” Lucrezia had demanded. “Is it because you, like Ippolito, dare not look at Giulio’s face and know your own injustice?”