Jeanne Kalogridis - The Borgia Bride

‘Alfonso will be so worried,’ she whispered. ‘Have you told him?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Good.’ She closed her eyes. ‘The surprise will have to wait, then, until I am better,’ She sighed. ‘He is going to find out soon enough about my fall. He will come here sometime after nightfall.’

‘He is a strong young man,’ I said. ‘He will recover from the shock.’

She smiled weakly, then grew silent. After a time, she fell into a light sleep. I felt relief, thinking her discomfort had eased, and she would now improve. But the midwife insisted on remaining nearby.

Lucrezia woke a few hours after sunset, with a great, terrifying moan. I leaned forward and clasped her hand. Her teeth were chattering; she was suffering too greatly even to speak.

The midwife lifted the covers and examined her, then-with a sombre glance that broke my heart-shook her head.

‘She is bleeding,’ she reported. ‘We can expect the worst.’ She turned to Donna Esmeralda and ordered several towels, a sheet, and a basin of water, then looked at me again, with a grim expression born of years of sad experience. ‘It would be best, Madonna Sancha, if you left.’

‘No!’ Lucrezia cried, in the midst of her groaning. Her flesh was white, beaded with sweat. ‘Sancha, do not leave me!’

I strengthened my grip on her hand. ‘I will not leave,’ I said, my voice steady, full of a strength I did not feel. ‘I will stay here with you until you tell me to go.’

She relaxed only for an instant; another wave of agony soon gripped her, and she squeezed my hand with crushing force.

Esmeralda returned to the room, having ordered the servant girls to fetch the required objects. ‘Summon His Holiness and the Duke of Bisciglie to the antechamber,’ I told her. ‘It is time they were notified.’

‘Sancha!’ Lucrezia gasped. ‘They will be so worried…Will you be the one to tell them?’

‘I will tell them,’ I soothed, and picked up the cloth that rested on her forehead. The side resting against her skin had grown warm, so I turned it over to the cooler side, and gently smoothed her brow with it. ‘I will be gentle, and make sure they do not worry overmuch.’

‘Yes. Yes. They both worry so…’ Lucrezia whispered, then gritted her teeth as another spasm overtook her.

Since Alfonso resided in the palazzo, he arrived first; I sent Donna Esmeralda out into the antechamber to tell him that Lucrezia had fallen in the vineyard, and that I would be out with more news as soon as His Holiness appeared. Esmeralda was a skilled dissembler, and played her part admirably; I could just make out her calm, even tone as she spoke to Alfonso. She stepped back inside the chamber with a confident nod; no doubt my brother thought his wife had merely turned her ankle.

But soon Lucrezia’s cries grew so loud that Alfonso, out in the antechamber, surely heard them. They must have stricken him to the core, so I extricated myself from Lucrezia in order to explain the situation. Fortunately, the Pope arrived just as I was embracing my brother.

At the sight of our agitated expressions, Alexander reacted with his overly emotional nature; his eyes welled up at once.

‘Dear God! It sounds as though she is dying! I could not imagine this was so serious…Sancha, what has become of our daughter?’

I pulled away from Alfonso. ‘Lucrezia is young and strong; she will no doubt survive this. It seems she was with child, but that child is surely lost now. She was racing her ladies in the vineyard…’

‘Racing in the vineyard! Who allowed this?’ Alexander demanded, with a fury born by grief. ‘Did she know she was pregnant?’

‘I think she knew. It was a simple accident, Your Holiness. The exercise should not have hurt her. Her slipper Was loose, and she tripped over it, and another girl fell on top of her.’

‘Who?’ Alexander’s tone grew vengeful.

Alfonso in the meantime was ignoring his father-in-law’s rantings; he listened to the information, then buried his face in his hands and whispered, ‘Pregnant…’ At the same instant Alexander demanded the name of the culprit, Alfonso lifted his face and asked, ‘You are sure Lucrezia will be all right?’ He turned his worried gaze towards the moans coming from his wife’s bedchamber.

I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. ‘It is hard now, but the midwife says she is young, she will survive this, God willing.’ To Alexander, I lied. ‘I do not even remember which girl fell, Your Holiness. It was an act of God, and not the girl’s fault that Lucrezia’s slipper was loose.’

The Pope covered his face and moaned with a misery to rival his daughter’s. ‘Ah, my poor daughter! My poor Lucrezia!’

‘Be strong,’ I told them both. ‘Lucrezia has asked me to stay with her. But I will come and tell you news as soon as I can.’

I left them to comfort each other, and returned to Lucrezia’s side.

Lucrezia’s suffering continued for two more hours, after which she was delivered of a small, bloody child; I saw the poor, barely-formed creature myself as the midwife caught it on a towel and examined it. It was too soon to tell whether a son or daughter had been lost.

Blessedly, Lucrezia’s moans ceased at once, but she wept at the realization that she no longer carried the child. The bleeding that followed was scarce, a good sign, and she finally fell into a sleep that the midwife pronounced healing.

The duty fell to me to inform father and husband of the bad and good news: that Lucrezia had miscarried, that no permanent damage had been done, and she was expected to recover quickly.

I kept my promise to Lucrezia: I went back into her room, where I dozed on a great velvet pillow while she slept through the night. I did not leave until the next morning, until convinced all was well.

Fortunately, the midwife’s prediction was correct: Lucrezia made a full recovery, and in time became annoyed with the over-attentiveness and coddling that her father, Alfonso, and I shamelessly heaped on her. Although there had been some jealousy between Donna Esmeralda and Lucrezia’s new head lady-in-waiting, Donna Maria, they now became united in their goal of ensuring that the Duchess of Bisciglie was always warm, pampered, and overfed.

In only a few months’ time, our solicitousness was repaid. Lucrezia walked with me out of earshot of our entourages one April evening, after supper, as we strolled from the Vatican back to the palace, and whispered, ‘I am pregnant again. But we must tell no one for some time, until I am sure the child is safe.’

‘No races,’ I hissed back at her, and she had enough of a sense of humour to smile wryly back at me.

‘No races,’ she agreed.

We smiled and linked arms, warmed by our shared secret. Rome seemed to me a safe haven that night, with the lanterns of boats twinkling below us on the Tiber, and the golden glow emanating from the graceful arched windows of the palace we approached.

Meanwhile, events in France were not proceeding precisely according to Cesare Borgia’s plan. The writ was to be delivered by Cesare, and presented to the King only in exchange for Carlotta of Aragon’s hand.

Thus armed, Cesare had left for France. I put the matter out of my mind, confident that Alfonso’s and my political status in the House of Borgia was now secure.

Upon Cesare’s arrival in France, he was directed by Carlotta and her father, King Federico, to entreat Louis for his permission to wed her; the King, however, while receiving Cesare politely, refused to discuss the subject. In the interim, Louis insisted on having the writ of divorce turned over to him-so fiercely that Cesare began to doubt for his safety. He stalled for as long as he could, but in the end, he yielded to Louis’ demand, and turned over the writ.