Jeanne Kalogridis - The Borgia Bride

Hand in hand, the two of us walked out into the antechamber, and I opened the doors. I had only one guard by then-a new one, Giacomo, a soldier of barely seventeen summers, who loved chatter and gossip almost as much as Donna Dorotea, and who knew I could be trusted.

Giacomo stood not at my doorway, but at the end of the corridor, staring out over the balcony at a point in the far distance. He was lean and tall, and the tension in his long limbs, as he stood with his back to me, conveyed mild alarm.

‘Giacomo!’ I called. ‘I hear cannon!’

He whirled about, at once embarrassed to be caught leaving his post. He returned immediately. ‘Forgive me, Madonna. It is Giulio Orsini and his men. The Holy Father has been imprisoning Orsini’s relatives, so Don Giulio is leading a revolt. But there is nothing to fear. The Pope has summoned the Captain-General and his army’-and here he lowered his voice and eyelids slyly before adding-‘if he can be convinced to come.’

For months, Cesare could not be convinced to leave his wars; the Pope was forced to make do with the few soldiers who had not marched with their Captain-General. Alexander could no longer rely on the support of the Roman nobility, who were mistrustful and bitter owing to Cesare’s treatment of the condottieri at Senigallia. Why should they fight for a pope liable to murder them afterwards?

Giulio Orsini’s strength and support swelled rapidly. One evening, Jofre looked meaningfully at me over the supper table, while Donna Esmeralda poured the wine.

He cleared his throat nervously, then said, with feigned casualness, ‘His Holiness has grown quite desperate for assistance with the Orsinis. In fact, I learned today from the Cardinal of Monreale that Alexander threatened Don Cesare with excommunication if he fails to obey the papal summons and return to Rome. Cesare is reluctant-fuming, according to the cardinal-but today, Father received word that he and his men are coming.’

I reached across the table and clasped my husband’s hand; Jofre’s grip was surprisingly determined and strong. If Esmeralda found anything odd in the look of complicity I shared with my spouse, she said nothing.

In the heat of summer, months after the Pope’s initial call for him, Cesare at last led his army into Rome. For two weeks, he remained inaccessible, encamped with his soldiers in the Roman countryside. But Orsini’s small army was no match for the vast papal horde; the rebellious nobles of Rome were swiftly slaughtered. Jubilant, Alexander ordered all the cathedral bells to be set ringing.

After the victory, my husband arrived for his evening meal. Rodrigo ran to the door the instant he heard his uncle’s footsteps; when Jofre entered, he lifted the boy high into the air, which made the child squeal with pleasure-then he abruptly kissed Rodrigo and set him down. Despite the boy’s repeated pleas, Jofre could not be coaxed into playing this night, and I asked Esmeralda to put Rodrigo to bed early.

A small table had been erected out on the balcony so that we might enjoy the summer evenings while dining. As a pair of maidservants set the platters down, Jofre called for a goblet of wine. One of the servants fetched him one, and he drank the better part of it in a single swallow.

I rose from my chair in the antechamber and went over to where he stood. His gaze was distracted, roving; he had trimmed his beard that day, and none too steadily, for on his cheek was a small cut, marked by freshly dried blood.

‘You bear news, husband,’ I remarked, in a voice too low for the women on the balcony to hear.

Our attention remained on the servants, but I listened keenly as Jofre replied, ‘Cesare is eager to leave Rome as soon as possible and return to the Marches. But Father has convinced him to stay for a victory party-a luncheon to be held tomorrow in Cesare’s honour, hosted by Cardinal Adriano Castelli. It will be held outdoors, in a vineyard.’

‘Arrange to sit between the Pope and Cesare,’ I said softly. ‘Then you need only ask the wine steward to let you deliver their full goblets to them-as a token of your honour and esteem. Make several toasts.’ I paused. ‘When the maidservants leave, I will bring what is required.’

The servants fretted overlong with the table arrangements, but at last they departed. I went into the bedchamber, where Donna Esmeralda sat sewing as young Rodrigo slept.

‘I must retrieve something from my closet,’ I whispered; she nodded and went back to squinting at her needlework while I opened my armoire.

The open doors blocked Esmeralda’s view so that I was free to open a secret compartment in the closet floor and withdraw a box. Within rested the jewels from my suite in the Palazzo Santa Maria, as well as the vial of canterella. I had previously emptied a tiny container of clear glass which had held precious Turkish attar of roses, a gift Jofre had given me years ago.

I took a single ruby and the two vials, then returned the box to its hiding place, soundlessly shut the armoire doors, and retreated. Throughout the entire transaction, Donna Esmeralda never glanced up.

Out in the antechamber, Jofre was pacing. He had already poured himself more wine and had drunk most of it.

‘You will have to contain yourself better,’ I chided, ‘if we are to succeed.’

‘I will, I will,’ he promised, then threw his head back and finished off the contents of his goblet.

I eyed him uncertainly, but said nothing. Instead, I handed him the ruby. ‘In case a bribe is required.’

Then I went over to the oil lamp and held both the emerald and clear vials up to the flame.

At the proper time , the strega had said. I was never more convinced that this was finally the moment.

The green glass glittered with reflected flame. I thought of sunlight dancing off the waters of the Bay of Naples; I thought of freedom.

Inside, the powder was dull, silvery blue. Beautiful, beautiful canterella , I addressed it silently. Canterella, rescue me…

I thought of the moment I had killed the young soldier who had threatened Ferrandino’s life. I had felt no guilt then; I felt no guilt now-only a cold, hard joy.

Keeping my hands steady, I unstoppered first the empty vial…then, with exquisite care, the one containing the poison. Jofre peered over my shoulder, his breath coming in short, nervous gasps, and craned forward.

‘Stand back,’ I warned. ‘If I spill it, I do not know whether it will kill if inhaled.’

He obeyed, watching silently as I poured the powder from the larger container into the smaller. Only a few grains , Lucrezia had said; I never asked how she had acquired such experience. I gave Jofre hundreds, thousands-a third of the vial, enough to decimate the papal army.

I sealed both vials then, and handed him the smaller-half clear now, half greyish blue. He pocketed it in an invisible hiding place in his tunic.

‘Why not give me all of it?’ His voice held a trace of wounded petulance.

‘Because if we are discovered,’ I replied evenly, ‘we will need some for ourselves.’

He blanched at that, but recovered himself and nodded.

I slid the emerald vial into the hiding place beneath my bodice. ‘In the meantime, I shall keep this on my person, at all times, so that if we are captured…’

He nodded again, this time emphatically, to indicate I need not finish the thought.

We both turned to stare out at the balcony, where supper beckoned.

‘I haven’t the stomach for it,’ Jofre said.

‘Nor have I. I’ll call for the servants to take it away.’

He turned to go; I caught his hand and said, ‘I have little faith in God. But I will pray for you.’