Jeanne Kalogridis - The Borgia Bride

As I left my chambers en route to the waiting carriage, Lucrezia appeared in the corridor, her eyes red-rimmed.

‘Sister!’ she called as she approached. She was already slow of step, being four months with child. ‘Do not leave without allowing me to bid you goodbye!’

When she neared and threw her arms around me, I whispered, ‘You must not do this. The servants will see, and report this to the Pope-he will be angry.’

‘Damn Father,’ she said vehemently, as we embraced.

‘You are brave and kind to come,’ I said. ‘It breaks my heart to say farewell.’

‘Not farewell. Only goodbye,’ she countered. ‘I swear to you, we shall meet again. Upon my life, I will see you and Alfonso restored to good graces within this family. I will not let either of you go.’

I held her tightly. ‘My darling Lucrezia,’ I murmured, ‘you have my friendship and loyalty for life.’

‘And you mine,’ she proclaimed solemnly.

We drew apart to study each other, and she gave a forced little laugh. ‘Here now. Enough of sadness. We will meet again, and you will be by my side when your brother’s first child is born. Think on that happy time to come, and I shall do the same, each time sorrow threatens. Let us promise each other.’

I managed a smile. ‘I promise.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I will leave you now, with the knowledge that our separation will be a short one.’ She turned, with such courage and determination that I straightened my shoulders.

It was the year 1499. It had been rumoured by the common folk and proclaimed passionately from pulpits that God would see fit to end the world in the coming Jubilee Year of 1500. Surely it felt to me, as I prepared to leave the Palazzo Santa Maria under a pall of shame, that my own world was already ending…but in truth, the rumours were right. The end of my world was coming, but not until the following year.

As I rode away from Rome, I held my head high. I refused all sense of embarrassment at having been banished so rudely by Alexander from the place I had come to know as home. Any shame belonged not to me or my brother, who were innocent of any wrongdoing, but to Cesare and his inconstant father. Even so, my heart ached at the thought of leaving Lucrezia and Jofre behind; I found no small irony in the fact that I, who had been so unhappy at the thought of coming to Rome, was now so unhappy to leave it for the place I loved best.

On the second day of travel, we caught sight of the coast, and the sea; it was, as always, a tonic for me. By the time I arrived in Naples, my sorrow had eased somewhat, and I was glad to be home; but my joy was dimmed by Alfonso’s honest sorrow. I had seen the stricken look on Lucrezia’s face the day that her father told her Alfonso had gone. Yet as much as she loved my brother, Alfonso adored her even more-and each day in Naples, I was forced to gaze upon a face more troubled, more heartbroken than Lucrezia’s.

They maintained a constant correspondence-read by both His Holiness’ and our own King Federico’s spies-in which they proclaimed their constant devotion to one another, and in which my brother constantly begged Lucrezia to join him; on that issue, she never replied.

We soon learned that Lucrezia had been ‘honoured’ by being appointed Governor of Spoleto-a town far north of Rome, and thus much, much farther from Naples. For a woman to be granted a governorship was an unheard-of thing, preposterous; it must have caused a stir within the Pope’s consistory of cardinals. Yet, such was Alexander’s faith in his daughter’s intellect and judgment, and his utter lack of faith in Jofre’s, that he never considered granting my husband the governorship. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that the Pope could not bear to overlook one of his own children to grant a boon to a child not truly his.

Yet this ‘honour’ was no prize at all, but a courteous way for Alexander to keep both his children prisoner, lest they flee to the arms of their departed spouses. Jofre wrote me a stilted letter explaining that he was attended by six pages ‘sworn to keep me company and protect me night and day, never to leave my side’. In other words, he could not escape to join me even had he wished. I had no doubt Lucrezia was similarly accompanied.

I was not surprised to hear of Alexander’s precautions; Alfonso told me how he had been forced to outride the Pope’s police on the morning he had fled Rome. They had pursued him until nightfall, when he managed to make his way to Genazzano, an estate owned by friends of King Federico’s; only then did the papal forces give up their pursuit, and, said Alfonso, ‘had they captured me, I am not sure I would be alive to speak these words now.’

The revelation terrified me, and I began to feel uneasy at the thought of my brother and Lucrezia reuniting in Rome. I was torn: away from Lucrezia, I began to remember Cesare’s deviousness. While she might do her very best to protect her husband, what was to stop Cesare from doing him harm?

And Cesare despised the entire House of Aragon for personal and now political reasons.

Only two weeks after our arrival in Naples, I enjoyed a morning of riding with my ladies in the countryside. The air was cool and damp from the ocean breeze, but the sun provided a perfect degree of warmth; I could not help thinking of the miserable heat being suffered by those in Rome.

I arrived back at our palazzo to discover Alfonso receiving a distinguished guest: the Spanish Captain Juan de Cervillon, who had been part of Lucrezia and Alfonso’s wedding party. While Captain de Cervillon’s position required him to live in Rome, his wife and children resided at their family estate in Naples. I presumed he had come south on personal business, and had stopped to visit us as a courtesy.

I encountered him and Alfonso greeting each other at the entry to the Great Hall; I stopped as I passed by, on my way to a change of clothing, and welcomed the captain.

He was in his fourth decade, with dark colouring, a well-groomed, handsome soldier. He cut a dashing figure in his dress uniform, decorated with a number of medals for his heroic service over many years to His Holiness as well as other popes and kings. As I arrived, he bowed low, the sheathed sword at his hip swinging behind him as he did so, and kissed my hand. ‘Your Highness. It is always an honour and pleasure to see you again. You are looking well.’

‘Naples agrees with me,’ I said bluntly. ‘It is always good to see you, too, Captain. What happy circumstance has prompted you to come?’

He stood facing away from Alfonso, and so missed my brother’s warning glance at him; I was concerned and intrigued. So; I was not supposed to have known about de Cervillon’s visit. This realization made me all the more determined to remain and be party to whatever conversation passed between my brother and the captain.

‘I am here at the official request of King Federico,’ de Cervillon answered honestly. ‘His Majesty has been in communication with His Holiness, Pope Alexander, who is eager to negotiate the return of the Duke of Bisciglie to Rome. Of course,’ he added, lest I be offended, ‘this would include your return as well.’

‘I see.’ I forced the alarm I felt from my expression. I turned and gestured for my entourage of ladies to leave me and continue on to my chambers, then turned back towards my disapproving brother and Captain de Cervillon. ‘Then I should most certainly be included in this conversation. Please, gentlemen.’ I gestured at both my brother and the captain to enter the reception area. ‘Let me not slow our progress.’