Madonna of the Seven Hills (9 page)

“But she is a good woman. We have thought her harsh, but we must admit that she is good.”

“Lucrezia, you live in a world of childhood and it is time you left it. Adriana is
glad
that the Cardinal loves me. She helps me dress when he is coming, helps to make me beautiful. And what does she say when she helps me dress? She says: ‘Do not forget that you will be Orsino’s wife before long. Get the Cardinal to agree to advance Orsino. He has great influence at the Vatican. Make sure that you squeeze the greatest good from this … for yourself and Orsino.’ ”

“So she is pleased that you and my father are lovers?”

“Nothing could delight her more. She makes everything easy for us.”

“And you so soon to marry her son!”

Giulia laughed. “You see, you do not know the world. If I were to have a love affair with a groom … ah, then I should be beaten. I should be in disgrace, and he, poor fellow, would doubtless have a sword run through him one dark night, or be found in the Tiber with a stone about his neck. But my lover is a great Cardinal and when men of influence love as he loves me then all gather round to catch some of the prizes. That is life.”

“Then Adriana with all her prayers and sternness, all her righteousness, is not a good woman after all!”

“Good and bad, little Lucrezia, what are they? It is only little children who have sentimental notions such as yours. The Cardinal is happy to love me; I am happy to be his mistress. And Orsino’s family and my family are
happy because of the great good I can bring to them. Orsino? He does not count, but one might say even he is happy because it means that he will not have to make love to me, which—unnatural monster that he is—I do not believe he is at all eager to do!”

Lucrezia was silent for a while, thinking more of Adriana than anyone else: Adriana solemnly on her knees before the Madonna and the lamp; Adriana, lips pursed, murmuring, “One must do this because, however unpleasant, it is one’s duty” Adriana, who made one feel that the saints were continually on the watch, recording the slightest fault to be held against one at the day of Judgment, the good woman, who was willing to allow the illicit love affair, between a man of fifty-eight and her prospective daughter-in-law of fourteen, to be conducted in her house, and moreover connived at it and encouraged it because it could bring honors to her son.

Honors! It was necessary, Lucrezia realized, to make a reassessment of words and their meanings.

She was indeed a child; there was much that she had to learn; and she was very eager to grow out of childhood, a state in which it seemed innocence was synonymous with folly.

Giulia had married
Orsino, and the ceremony had taken place in the Borgia palace, the first of the witnesses to sign the marriage documents being Roderigo Borgia.

The married couple returned to Monte Giordano and life went on as before. The Cardinal paid frequent visits to the Orsini palace and no one now made any secret of the fact that he came chiefly to visit his mistress.

He was delighted to see his daughter also, and seemed content to spend a great deal of time in the company of the two young girls.

Giulia was exerting her influence on Lucrezia who was growing more and more like her. Giulia talked of the love between herself and the Cardinal and of many more trivial matters. She told Lucrezia that she knew how their hair could retain its bright yellow color; she had a recipe which would make it shine like pure gold with the sun on it. They washed their hair, tried the concoction, and congratulated themselves that their hair was more golden than ever.

Lucrezia began to long for the time when she would have a lover, for, always ready to be influenced by those who were near her, she was modelling herself on Giulia.

When she heard that her eldest brother, Pedro Luis, had died and that Giovanni was to become Duke of Gandia and marry the bride who had been selected for Pedro Luis, it seemed hardly important, apart from the fact that she wondered how Cesare would receive this news. He would surely want the dukedom of Gandia; he would surely want Pedro Luis’ bride.

She was eleven when the Cardinal called at the palace and, after embracing her, told her that he was arranging a match for her.

It was to be a Spanish match because he believed Spain, which was fast rising to a power of first magnitude determined on the domination of the world, had more to offer his daughter than Italy.

Her bridegroom was to be Don Cherubino Juan de Centelles who was the lord of Val d’Ayora in Valencia, and it was a grand match.

Lucrezia was a little alarmed, but her father hastily assured her that, although the nuptial contract was drawn up and would soon be signed, he had arranged that she should not leave Rome for a whole year.

That was comforting. A year seemed a very long time to the young Lucrezia.

Now she could discuss her coming marriage with Giulia and it delighted her to do so, particularly as that event seemed so very far away in the distant future.

She was beginning to know the world, to accept with the utmost calm the relationship between her father and Giulia; to accept the mingling piety and callous amorality of Adriana.

That was life as it was lived in that stratum of society into which Lucrezia had been born.

She had learned this much; and it meant that she had left her childhood behind her.

ALEXANDER VI

D
uring the following year Lucrezia really did
grow up, and afterward it seemed to her that before Giulia had come into her life bringing enlightenment she had indeed been an innocent child.

Giulia was her dearest friend. Together they made many journeys to the Cardinal’s palace where Roderigo petted them both, delighting that it was Lucrezia who brought him Giulia and Giulia who brought him Lucrezia.

And why should Lucrezia question the rightness of such conduct? She, Giulia and Adriana were all guests at the wedding of Franceschetto Cibo, a grand occasion when the whole of Rome had rejoiced and there were bonfires on all of the seven hills; Franceschetto was openly acknowledged as the son of Innocent VIII, and the Holy Father made no secret of this, for he was present at the banquet and caused the fountains to run with wine; moreover Franceschetto’s bride was the daughter of the great Lorenzo de’ Medici; so that it was not only Romans who honored the Pope’s bastard.

So naturally it did not occur to Lucrezia to do anything but accept the conditions in which she lived.

Goffredo had now come to live at Monte Giordano, and she was happy to have her young brother with her. He wept a little to leave his mother, but Vannozza, while missing him sadly, was very glad to let him go for she saw in the arrangement an admission by Roderigo that he accepted Goffredo as his son.

It was during that year that Roderigo decided that Don Cherubino Juan de Centelles was not a satisfactory match for his daughter. It may have been the brilliant marriage of Franceschetto Cibo which decided him. It was true Franceschetto was the son of a Pope, but Innocent was ageing fast and who knew what the next months might bring forth? No! He would find a better match for his daughter.

He blithely dissolved the previous contract and made another more suited to his ambitious plans, choosing Don Gasparo di Procida, the count of Aversa, for Lucrezia’s betrothed. This was because Don Gasparo was a connection of the House of Aragon which now ruled in Naples.

Lucrezia accepted the change placidly. As she had seen neither of her prospective bridegrooms she had no feelings in the matter. She had Roderigo’s happy nature which made her believe that everything would come out well for her.

And then, in that August of the year 1492 when Lucrezia was twelve years old, there occurred that event which was to prove so important to the rest of her life.

Innocent was dying and there was tumult throughout Rome. The question on every lip was: Who shall succeed Innocent?

There was one man who was determined to do so. Roderigo was sixty. If he were going to achieve his life-long ambition he must do so soon. When he heard the news that Innocent was on his death-bed he determined, as he never had before, that he would be the next Pope.

Roderigo, gentle, courteous, seeming malleable, was a man of iron beneath the gentle exterior. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Unfortunately there must be a Conclave, and the Pope must be elected. Those days were days of real stress for Roderigo. He did not visit his mistress or his daughter during that period of decision, but the thoughts of everyone
in the Orsini palace were with him at that time. They all prayed that the next Pope would be Roderigo.

Lucrezia was in a state of turmoil. Her father seemed to her godlike; tall, powerful; she could not understand why there should be any anxiety. Why did not everyone understand that there was only one thing they could do, and that was elect Cardinal Roderigo Borgia as their Pope?

She talked to Giulia, who was as tense and anxious as herself, for although it was exciting to be the mistress of the richest Cardinal in Rome, how much more so to be the mistress of the Pope. So Giulia shared Lucrezia’s excitement, her enthusiasm and her fears. Little Goffredo sought to understand, and added his prayers to theirs; and Adriana saw a glittering future wherein she might cast aside her mourning and accompany her daughter-in-law to the Vatican; there she might live in state … if only Roderigo were elected Pope.

The heat was
fierce in Rome during that fateful August. Each in his separate cell, the great Cardinals went into Conclave. Crowds were gathered in the streets, clustering about the Vatican, and there was continued and heated speculation as to the results.

In the beginning no one thought very highly of Roderigo’s chances.

There were great rivalries, for Italy was at this time a country divided into small states and dukedoms, with the result that there were continual differences between them. Innocent had been weak but he had enjoyed the advice of his great ally, Lorenzo de’ Medici, and it was largely due to this that the peninsula had been enjoying a period of peace. But Lorenzo had died and trouble was looming.

Ludovico Sforza, Regent of Milan, and Ferrante of Aragon, King of Naples, were the great rivals who threatened to plunge Italy into a state of war. The reason for this was that Ludovico’s nephew, Gian Galeazzo, was the true heir of Milan; but Ludovico held this young man a prisoner and made himself Regent. His excuse was that the young Duke was not fit to rule; he, Ludovico, had brought about this unhappy state of affairs by arranging that the boy should be demoralized both mentally and physically with debaucheries which were arranged at Ludovico’s instigation. Gian
however had married an energetic princess of Naples, Isabella of Aragon, who was granddaughter of Ferrante. This was the cause of the trouble between Naples and Milan which threatened at this time to flare up into a war which could have involved all Italy.

Both Naples and Milan were afraid that the French would seek to invade their territory, for the French declared that they had a claim both to Naples and Milan—to Naples through the House of Anjou, and to Milan through the house of Orléans.

This meant that it would be very important for Ludovico and Ferrante to have a Pope at the Vatican who would favor them.

Rivalry was intense. Ascanio Sforza, brother of Ludovico, was the hope of Milan. Ferrante supported Giuliano della Rovere.

Roderigo, like a sly fox, waited.

He knew he had little to fear from Ascanio, as he was only thirty-eight and if he became Pope it would be the death-knell to the hopes of almost every living Cardinal. With such a young man elected, unless he died very young, there would be little hope of another Conclave for years. Moreover it was hardly likely that Ludovico’s party would have much support. The Regency of Milan was known throughout the length and breadth of Italy as a usurper.

This was not the case with della Rovere, but although he was eligible, he had a bitter tongue which offended people. He might have supporters, but he also had many enemies.

The favorite was perhaps the Portuguese Cardinal Costa, who was eighty years of age. At such a time it was often felt to be advisable to elect a very old man, to give a short breathing space before there was another Conclave. If Cardinal Costa were elected, it would not be such a tragedy as the election of della Rovere or—the saints forbid it—Ascanio Sforza.