The Borgia Bride by Jeanne Kalogridis

Author:Jeanne Kalogridis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Published: 2005-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

Spring–Summer 1497

XVIII

That evening, I sent a cryptic message via Esmeralda that only Cesare would understand: the black lady was ill. I was not of a mood to explain the events of the day to anyone, so I spent the night alone, save for good Esmeralda, with whom I shared the bed and whose quiet, stolid presence proved a great comfort. Out of respect for my misery, Esmeralda spoke only once—softly, but with a ferocity no less chilling: ‘Do not fear, my Sancha. God is witness to the crime against you, and in time, He will take His revenge.’

The following morning, I was not even sure that I should tell my lover of his brother’s crime. I worried Cesare might lose his head and react with violence—even though I dreamt of murdering Juan myself. But the Duke of Gandia was Alexander’s favourite—and I feared, after learning that Cesare’s own father had threatened him, that His Holiness would avenge any harm done Juan.

For two days, I feigned illness—turning Jofre away with the same excuse—and then Cesare sent a message back through Esmeralda, begging to see me at our usual place, if I was well enough.

I responded that I would meet him—for I missed him, but I had already concocted an excuse as to why we should not have sexual relations that night. The bruises left on my back—imprints of each accursed pebble on the path where Juan had taken me—had faded slightly, as had the marks on my thighs and wrists, but were visible enough to draw questions.

So, veiled in black, I went at the appointed hour to the appointed place and found myself, for the first time, alone there. Cesare did not await me, as he always had; Cesare, in fact, never appeared.

My first reaction, being of royal blood and by nature impatient, was one of anger. How dare he insult me so?

My second reaction was one of fear. What if he had learned of Juan’s crime, and had been injured or killed in his efforts to seek justice?

I lingered in the darkness, hoping Cesare would arrive with an explanation that would put my doubts to rest; but he did not come, and I returned to my bedchamber, troubled.

The next day, Cesare was immersed in Vatican business, and failed to appear at the family supper. I sent an even-toned letter asking whether there had been a misunderstanding, but a day passed, then two, and I received no reply.

My confusion grew. Even had Cesare miraculously learned of Juan’s crime against me, that would scarce be cause for his sudden silence. If anything, he would be rushing to comfort me, to vow revenge against Juan.

My opportunity finally came at one of the many parties Lucrezia had planned. The great loggia of the Palazzo Santa Maria was the chosen site, large enough to allow for a good deal of dancing. His Holiness sat on a throne and enjoyed dictating who should dance with whom.

At one point, he demanded that Cesare and I dance together.

Fortunately, the music was loud, and we were not the only dancers on the floor.

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