Madonna of the Seven Hills (24 page)

There was further
trouble. News came from Capodimonte, Giulia’s native town, that her brother Angelo was very ill and the family believed that he could not live.

Giulia was distraught. She was very fond of her family, particularly her brothers Angelo and Alessandro.

She came to Lucrezia, and never in the course of their friendship had Lucrezia seen Giulia so distressed.

“It is news from my home,” Giulia explained.

“My dearest Giulia, how sorry I am!” cried Lucrezia. “We must pray that all will be well.”

“I must do more than pray,” Giulia told her. “I shall go to him. I cannot let him die without seeing him again.”

“You remember my father’s orders … We were not to leave Pesaro without his consent.”

“My brother is dying, do you understand? What if Cesare or Giovanni were dying? Would you not go to them?”

“But it is not Cesare, nor Giovanni,” said Lucrezia calmly. “It is only Angelo.”

“He is as much my brother as Cesare and Giovanni are yours.”

But Lucrezia could not concede that. Giulia did not understand the bonds which bound the Borgia family. And the Pope would be angry if Giulia left Pesaro to go to her family.

“Why,” pointed out Lucrezia, “Orsino is at Bassanello, and that is not very far from Capodimonte. You know how my father dislikes you to be anywhere near your husband.”

“I need not see Orsino.”

“But he might come to you. Oh, Giulia, if you value my father’s love, do not go to Capodimonte.”

Giulia was silent. She was torn between her desire to see her brother and her wish to please the Pope.

Giovanni left for
Naples. Lucrezia said farewell to him without any great regret. During the last days she had seen what a weak man she had married, and she longed for the strength which she had always admired in her father and brothers.

Giovanni, furious and humiliated, had decided that as he could not serve the enemies of his family he would pretend to do so and send information to his family as to the moves made by the Neapolitan army. He would be doing dangerous work, and if he were discovered, as a spy he would be in acute danger. But what could he do? How else could he reconcile himself with his family? He was a small ruler of a small community; he was a provincial lord who could not live without the support of his family and the Pope.

Gloom descended on the palace after Giovanni had left. There were no more entertainments; the girls had no inclination for them. They would sit in the apartment, Lucrezia amusing Laura while Giulia watched at the window for a messenger from Capodimonte.

There came a day when that messenger arrived, and the news he brought was grave. Angelo Farnese was on his death-bed; there was no
doubt of that; he had expressed a desire to see his beloved sister Giulia who had brought so many honors to the family. That decided Giulia.

She turned to Lucrezia. “I am leaving at once for Capodimonte,” she said. “I am determined to see my brother before he dies.”

“You must not go,” insisted Lucrezia. “My father will be displeased.”

But Giulia was firm, and that day she, with Laura and Adriana, set out for Capodimonte.

Giovanni, Giulia, Laura and Adriana had gone.

What changes, pondered Lucrezia, as she was left in loneliness at Pesaro, were taking place all around her.

In the Orsini
castle at Bassanello, Orsino Orsini was brooding.

Like Giovanni Sforza, he was a weak man. Giovanni could never forget that he belonged to a small branch of the Sforza family and was despised by his wealthier relations; Orsino could not forget that he was small in stature, that he squinted, and that not even humble serving girls were eager for his attentions.

Often he brooded on the way he was treated. It seemed that they had mocked him even more than was necessary by marrying him to one of the most beautiful women in Italy, one who had already become the Pope’s mistress before she was his wife.

It was as though they said: “Oh, but it is only Orsino, and Orsino is of no account.”

His mother even had played a prominent part in his humiliation. “Don’t be silly, Orsino,” she had reproved him. “Think what favors Giulia can make the Pope bestow on you. Riches! Land! They are more profitable than a wife. In any case if it’s women you want there will be many at your disposal.”

La Bella Giulia! She was notorious throughout Italy. The Pope’s mistress! Mother of the Pope’s child! And she was married to Orsino who was never allowed to go near her for fear of offending the Pope!

Orsino swore an oath.

“This is an end to my humiliation. She has left the Pope. She is at
Capodimonte and, by all the saints, I swear she shall be my wife in truth. I swear to take her from her lover.”

From his castle he looked out on the little village clustered about the old church with its campanile, six stories high; he gazed at the quiet valley through which the Tiber flowed. About him, all seemed at peace. But if he did what they expected of him he would not long enjoy peace. His family were firm allies of the Neapolitans and he was in command of a brigade. Soon he would have to leave this place and join the Neapolitan camp. Then he would be far away from Giulia and, if the Pope heard she had come to Capodimonte to visit her dying brother, he would not be so disturbed as he would be if he knew that Orsino Orsini was in the neighborhood.

But why should one placate the Pope? Why was it so necessary now? The French were on the way with a mighty army, and it was said that one of their objects would be to depose Alexander. Well then, was there the same need to placate the Pope?

“By the saints, I will have what is mine!” vowed Orsino.

He sent for one of his captains, and when the man came to him he said: “You will take the troops to Umbria. I have orders that they are to proceed there.”

The man acknowledged the order but Orsino saw the astonished look which came into his eyes.

“I am feeling unwell,” Orsino explained. “I feel a fever creeping upon me. I cannot accompany you. I must remain behind for a while.”

He was smiling slyly as he dismissed the captain.

Now he had taken the first step.

The Holy Father was about to lose a mistress, and he, Orsino Orsini, was about to gain a wife.

When his men
had left he set out for Capodimonte where both his mother and Giulia were surprised to see him.

“But what means this?” cried Adriana. “Should you not be with your men in camp?”

“I will be where I wish to be,” said Orsino.

Giulia cried: “But we understood you had orders.”

Orsino regarded her intently. It was not for nothing that she was known as La Bella throughout Italy. He was suddenly tortured by a hundred images of what her lovemaking with that connoisseur of love, the Holy Father, must have been; and he was maddened by mingled anger and desire.

He answered her: “The time has come when I have decided to order my own life.”

“But …” began Giulia.

“And yours,” said Orsino.

“This is madness,” retorted Giulia. She looked at her mother-in-law, but Adriana was silent. She was thinking quickly. She did not believe that Milan would stand up against the onslaught of the French. She believed that very soon the foreigners would be in Rome. If they reached Rome, then Alexander’s days as Pope were numbered. A woman as shrewd as Adriana did not go on placating a man about to fall. If Italy were invaded it would be families such as the Orsinis and Colonnas who would survive; and Orsino, squint-eyed though he might be, was a powerful Orsini. Let him show a little spirit and his physical deformity would be forgotten.

Adriana lifted her shoulders. “He is your husband when all is considered,” she answered.

And she left them together.

Giulia, startled, faced Orsino.

“Orsino, do not be foolish,” she said.

He had approached her, and seized her by the wrist.

“You know,” she cried, “that the Pope has forbidden you to come near me.”

He laughed, and gripping her by the shoulders shook her roughly. “Has it not occurred to you that it might be my place to forbid the Pope to come near you?”

“Orsino!”

“La Bella,” he said, “you have brought great profit to your family. You have considered all the demands they have made upon you.” His eyes were on her smooth white neck on which she wore the sparkling diamond necklace which had been a gift from her lover. He pulled the necklace and the clasp snapped. He flung it from him without looking where it fell. And it
was as though, as his hands touched her warm flesh, he made a decision. There would be no more prevarication. Not even for a moment.

“If you touch me,” she cried, “you will have to answer to …”

“I answer to none,” he said. “I would remind you of something which you seem to have forgotten … now, as when you married me. You are my wife.”

“Think carefully, Orsino.”

“This is not the time for thinking.”

She pressed her hands against his chest; her eyes were imploring; the lovely golden hair escaped from its net.

“Now!” he said. “This moment.…”

“No,” she cried. “I will not. Orsino … I hate you. Let me go. At a time like this! My brother dying … and … and …”

“There should have been other times,” he said. “A hundred times … a thousand times. I’ve been a fool, but I’m a fool no longer. Those times have passed. This shall not.”

She was breathless, determined on escape. But he was equally determined; and he was the stronger of the two.

After a while she gave up struggling.