But Lucrezia only looked at him with unseeing eyes, and Alfonso rose hopelessly to his feet.

She was dying, it was whispered throughout the castle. Her pregnancy had been a difficult one from the start, and now she had contracted this fever, what hope was there for her?

Furious and sorrowful messages came from the Pope. He was imploring them to save his Lucrezia’s life and at the same time threatening them.

My daughter’s death will not suit the Borgias at all, he wrote; and the Este family should be very careful how they acted, for he, Alexander, did not think it was going to suit them very well either.

The old Duke harangued his doctors. They must save his daughter-in-law. It was imperative that they do so. They must take every precaution, apply every cure—no matter how expensive—but they must not let her die.

In the draughty corners of the castle men and women whispered together. If she dies, the Borgias will come against us. More than all their possessions the Pope and Il Valentino love this girl.

But each day Lucrezia’s condition worsened, and it was said: “She cannot last the night.”

As she lay unconscious, half dead, unaware of what was going on about her, there was suddenly heard the sound of galloping horses.

A little band of riders was seen, and at the head of them rode a tall and elegant man who leaped from his horse, flung the reins to a groom and called: “Take me at once to the Duchess of Ferrara.”

One of the servants ran out to this man and cried: “It is impossible, my lord. The Duchess lies near to death and there is plague in the castle. If you value your life you should not come here.”

“Stand aside,” was the answer, “and if you value your life conduct me with all speed to the bedchamber of your Duchess.”

Others came running forward, and there were some who recognized the newcomer. One man threw himself on his knees and cried: “My lord, there is plague in the castle.”

He was brutally kicked aside and a voice of thunder cried: “Must I fight my way to my sister?”

Then all fell back, and the man who had been kicked now whined: “My lord Duke, follow me; I will take you to her with all speed.”

A shiver of fear ran through the castle. Voices shook as they whispered one to another: “Il Valentino is here!”


* * *

He knelt by the bed and took her into his arms.

“My love, my dearest, I am here. Cesare is here … come to cure you.”

And she, who had recognized none, now opened her eyes; and those watching saw the change which came to her face as she whispered: “Cesare … Cesare … my beloved … so it is you.”

He had his arms about her. He called for pillows that she might be propped up; he smoothed the damp hair back from her face.

“I am here now.” His arrogant voice rang through the apartment. “You will be well now.”

“Oh Cesare … it has been so long.”

He had taken her hands and regardless of the risk was covering them with kisses. “Too long … too long, my precious one.”

She was almost fainting on her pillows, but all were aware of the new life in her.

He shouted to them: “Leave us. Leave us together.”

And none dared disobey.


* * *

They waited outside the room. It was a miracle, they whispered; she had been close to death, and he was bringing her back to life.

He called for wine—wine to revive her—and when it was brought, those who saw her marveled at the change in her, for it was as though this vital man breathed new life into her.

It is not natural, was the verdict. These Borgias are something more than human. They have power over life and death. They deal death and they raise from the dead.

The strange incomprehensible words which passed between them—for they spoke in the Valencian tongue—sounded like incantations to those listening ears. They remembered all the slights they had inflicted on Lucrezia since her arrival in Ferrara, and they trembled lest Il Valentino knew of these.

Lucrezia was saying: “You should not have come to me, Cesare, you who are so busy with your victories.”

“Too busy to come to my dearest one when she is sick unto death! Never that, beloved. We must send a message at once to our father.”

“He will be overjoyed when he knows you have been here.”

“He will only be overjoyed if I can tell him that you are well again. Lucrezia, you must not die. Think of it! What would life mean to us … our father and myself … if we lost you!”

“But you have your life, Cesare. All your ambitions are being realized.”

“They would be of no account to me if I lost you.”

He embraced her and she wept a little. “Then I must get well. Oh Cesare, I have thought so much of you … and our father. I have thought of you and your conquests. I have thought of you in Urbino.”

He was quick to sense the tremor in her voice and, because there were times in their lives when they were so close—and this was one of them—that they read each other’s thoughts, he was aware of her unhappiness on account of his conquest of Urbino.

“Lucrezia, dearest,” said Cesare. “It is necessary that I establish my kingdom. Do not think that I work for myself alone. Everything I have gained belongs to us all. Do not think I ever forget that. You … our father … our children … shall all benefit from my conquests. I will give one of my new towns to your little Giovanni. What say you to that? The little Infante Romano is a Borgia, and he must not be forgotten.”

“You comfort me,” she said. “Often I have thought of my children.”

“Grieve not, dearest. You have nothing to fear on their account while our father and myself are alive to care for them.”

He could see that he had comforted her. He laid his hand on her hot forehead. “It is time you slept, beloved,” he said. “I will remain at your bedside and, although I must leave you soon, it shall not be for long. I must go, Lucrezia, but I shall return.”

So she slept and he remained on watch. When he left, the next day, all were talking of the miracle, for it now seemed that Lucrezia would recover.


* * *

A few weeks later when Lucrezia, still weak, was reclining on her bed surrounded by her women, she cried out in sudden fear. “My pains are beginning,” she said; and as the child was not expected for another two months there was consternation throughout the palace.

Doctors came hurrying to her bedside, and all those fears which had been dispersed with the coming of Cesare were revived.

How could Lucrezia emerge alive from a seven-months birth after her recent illness? It seemed impossible.

Alfonso came to his wife’s bedchamber and knelt by her bed. Lucrezia smiled at him wanly, but he had no elixir of life to offer her comparable with that which, so all were certain, flowed from Il Valentino.

“Do not grieve, Alfonso,” she said. “If I die you will marry again … a woman who mayhap will be able to give you children.”

“Do not speak of dying,” cried Alfonso. “You must not die. You must live, Lucrezia. If you are spared I … I will make a pilgrimage to Loreto.”

She smiled. She realized that he was offering a great sacrifice in exchange for her recovery.

“On foot,” added Alfonso.

“Oh, Alfonso,” she murmured. “That is noble of you. But you must not grieve. I fear our child will be lost. They tell me that there is little hope that it will be born alive.”

“Let it not disturb you,” said Alfonso. “We are young, are we not? We will get more children. Boys … many of them.”

Now the sweat was on her forehead and the pains were growing more frequent. She cried out in her agony, and shortly afterward her daughter was born, dead.


* * *

All through the night they waited, while Lucrezia lingered between life and death, and with the morning Cesare came riding once more to the castle. Hope soared at the sight of him for all believed in his supernatural powers, and that what he had achieved once he would achieve again.

Ercole and Alfonso greeted him with delight.

“I beg of you,” cried Alfonso, “save my wife. It would seem that you alone can do it.”

So Cesare went to the sick-room, and as Lucrezia’s dull eyes fell upon him they brightened. She knew him, although she had been unaware of those at her bedside until he came.

He knelt by the bed and embraced her; he demanded that they be left alone. He was instantly obeyed and when he eventually called to all those who were hovering at the door, he demanded that the doctors come forward to bleed his sister.

“No more,” moaned Lucrezia. “Let me rest. I am weary of remedies. I want only now to go in peace.”

Cesare answered her reproachfully in the Valencian language and, turning to those about the bed, said that his sister should now be bled.

The leeches were applied while Cesare watched; he held Lucrezia’s foot and talked to her while the bleeding took place. Although none knew what he said, it must have been amusing for from time to time Lucrezia would laugh, as those in the Este castle had thought never to hear her laugh again.


* * *

So Lucrezia recovered; and went for peace and a change of scene to the Convent of Corpus Domini. The people of Ferrara crowded about her litter as she was carried thither from the castle, and wished her a complete return to health.