“Cesare, you will surely be there!”
“At your nuptial celebration. Certainly I shall not. Do you think I can bear to see you making merry at such a time?”
“Giovanni will be there, and mayhap Goffredo.…”
“One day, sister, you will understand that my feeling for you is stronger than anything Giovanni could feel for anyone.”
There were shouts in the square and Cesare strode to the window.
Lucrezia stood beside him, but she could no longer feel the same pleasure in all the pomp which was being prepared for her, because she was deeply aware of the clenching and unclenching of Cesare’s hands and the angry expression on his face.
“He comes,” said Cesare. “The handsome Duke of Gandia.”
“He is to conduct me to the Vatican,” said Lucrezia. “I should be ready by now. Oh, we shall be late. Cesare, we must bring back Adriana and Giulia. Giovanni is here and I am not ready.”
But Adriana, hearing the sounds of Giovanni’s approach, decided that it was necessary for her to risk Cesare’s anger, and she came into the room followed by Giulia and Lucrezia’s attendants.
“The Duke is here,” she said. “Come now, let me see if your net is in place. Ah yes, and where is the black dwarf? Here, dwarf. Take Madonna Lucrezia’s train and stand there.…”
Cesare watched the preparations frowning, and Lucrezia aware of him felt that his jealousy was clouding this happy day.
Giovanni entered.
He had changed a great deal since he had gone to Spain. Tall and very elegant, he had led a life of debauchery but at seventeen this had left very little mark on his face. He wore a golden beard which softened the sensual cruelty of his mouth, and his eyes, pale, transparent and so like Lucrezia’s own, though beautifully shaped and dark-lashed, lacked the serene gentleness of his sister’s and were in contrast cold and hard. But he had that Borgia fascination which he had inherited from his father, and in his fine colorful garments, which consisted of a Turkish robe à la Française so long that it swept the floor, made of curling cloth of gold with immense pearls sewn into the sleeves and a cap adorned with an enormous gem, he was a magnificent spectacle. Jewels sparkled on his person and about his neck was a long necklace entirely composed of rubies and pearls.
Lucrezia caught her breath as she looked at him.
“Why, Giovanni,” she cried, “you look magnificent.”
For a moment she forgot Cesare glowering there. To him it seemed symbolic of his father’s wish to humiliate him. Here before Lucrezia stood her two brothers, the rivals; and one, through the grace and bounty of their father, could come like a prince while the other must wear the comparatively drab garments of the Church.
Cesare felt one of those moods of rage sweeping over him. When they possessed him he wanted to put his hands about the throats of those who fostered these moods, and squeeze and squeeze that he might soothe his hurt vanity by their screams for mercy.
He could not squeeze that elegant throat. There had been a hundred times in his life when he had longed to. One must not touch the Pope’s beloved. One day, he thought, I shall be unable to restrain myself.
Giovanni, understanding the mood of his brother, looked slyly from him to Lucrezia. “Ah, my little sister, my beloved Lucrezia, you say I look magnificent, but you … you are like a goddess. I do not believe you can be my pretty little sister. No human being could possess such beauty. How you sparkle! How you glitter! Even my lord Archbishop looks the brighter for your closeness to him. I hear you are not coming to our father’s party, brother. Mayhap it is as well. The somber garb of you men of the Church is apt to have a sobering effect, and there must be naught but gaiety this night.”
“Silence!” cried Cesare. “Silence, I say!”
Giovanni raised his eyebrows and Adriana cried: “My lord, we must go. As it is, we shall be late.”
Cesare turned and strode out of the room. His attendant, who had been waiting outside the apartment, prepared to follow him. Cesare turned to the boy—he was little more. “You smile,” he said. “Why?”
“My lord?”
Cesare had the boy by the ear. The pain was almost unbearable.
“Why?” screamed Cesare. “I asked why.”
“My lord … I do not smile.”
Cesare knocked the boy’s head against the wall. “You would lie then. You have been listening, and what you overheard amused you.”
“My lord … my lord!”
Cesare took the boy roughly by the arm and pushed him toward the staircase. The boy lifted his hands as he fell and Cesare heard his screams as he tumbled headlong down the stairs. He listened, his eyes narrowed, his mouth slightly turned down. The cries of others in pain never failed to soothe the pain within himself, the pain born of frustration and fear that there were some in the world who did not recognize him as of supreme importance.
Led by her brother Giovanni, Lucrezia entered the Pope’s new apartment at the Vatican. The apartments were already crowded by all the most important people of Rome and representatives from the courts of other states and dukedoms.
Lucrezia had forgotten Cesare in the excitement of crossing the square, from the Palace to the Vatican; the shouts of the people were still in her ears and she could still smell the scent of the flowers which had been strewn in her path. And here on the Papal throne was her father, magnificent in his white and gold vestments, his eyes shining with love and pride as they rested upon her. Those eyes, however, quickly strayed to his beloved and beautiful Giulia who stood on one side of Lucrezia; on the other was another beautiful young girl, Lella Orsini, who had recently married Giulia’s brother Angelo Farnese.
The bridegroom came forward. He looked almost shabby compared with the glory of that other Giovanni, the bride’s brother. Giovanni Sforza, conscious of lacking the Spanish elegance of the Duke of Gandia, was remembering that even the necklace he wore about his neck was borrowed.
As for Lucrezia, she was scarcely conscious of him. To her, this marriage was nothing more than a brilliant masque. Sforza must be there because without him she could not play her part, and since there was to be no consummation for a long time she knew that life was going on exactly as it always had.
They knelt together on a cushion at the feet of Alexander and when the notary asked Sforza if he would take Lucrezia as his wife, the bridegroom answered in loud and ringing tones: “I will with a good heart!” And Lucrezia echoed his words. The Bishop put the rings on their fingers while a nobleman held a naked sword over their heads; and after that the Bishop preached a touching sermon concerning the sanctity of marriage, to which neither Lucrezia nor her husband paid a great deal of attention.
Alexander himself was impatient. There were too many such ceremonies in his life, and he was eager to proceed with the merrymaking.
Now celebrations began, and there were many churchmen present who wondered at the ease with which the Pope could cast aside his role of Holy Father and become the jocular host who is determined that all shall rejoice at his daughter’s wedding.
None laughed more heartily than the Pope at the somewhat bawdy jokes which were circulated and which were considered to be a necessary part of wedding celebrations. A comedy was performed for the enjoyment of the company, obscene songs were sung; riddles were asked and answered, and all these had a sly allusion to the married state. Hundreds of pounds of sweetmeats were distributed among the guests—the Pope and all the Cardinals being served first, followed by the bride and bridegroom, the ladies, the prelates and the remaining guests. The fun was hilarious when the sweets were dropped down the bodices of the women’s gowns and there were shrieks of delight as these were retrieved. When the company was tired of this game the remains of the sweetmeats were thrown from the windows and the crowds who were waiting below scrambled for them.