“You are a man with a family,” persisted Lucrezia, “you must know something of the ties which bind families together.”

“I understand nothing of the ties which bind the Borgias. Nor do I wish to.”

“But you must hear me. Allow me to invite my brother and the children of the Vatican to Ferrara. Let it be a short visit. I promise you it shall be so. But I beg of you, give me your permission to ask my brother here. He would not wish to stay. Maybe he would go into France. He has estates there.”

“The King of France has written to me that on no account will he be allowed into France in spite of your supplications. He advises me to have nothing to do with the priest’s bastard.”

Lucrezia was unpleasantly startled. She had had high hopes of Cesare’s being able to go to France. The French King had always been his friend, she had believed; and he had a family there.

She looked pleadingly into the tight-lipped gray old face, but the Duke was adamant.

He closed his eyes. “I am very tired,” he said. “Go now and be thankful that you made a good match before it was too late to do so.”

“A good match?” she said with an air of defiance. “Do you think I am so happy here?”

“You’re a fool if you prefer a prison in Rome to your apartments in the palace here.”

“I see,” said Lucrezia, “that I was foolish to hope … for kindness … for sympathy.”

“You were foolish if you thought I would have more than one Borgia at my court.”

He watched her sardonically as she left him.


* * *

Cesare took a last look round the apartments. No more would he lie on that bed, his drawn sword at his side, no more order those elaborate meals, nor play cards with his jailers. He had done that which, such a short while ago, he had sworn he would never do. He had surrendered Romagna as the price of freedom. Now he could walk out of his prison; but he must leave Rome.

He was filled with hope. His sojourn in the Borgia Tower had given him back his strength. In some safe place he would make his plans, and within a few months he would win back all he had lost.

He wished that he could go to Ferrara. He needed Lucrezia at such a time. By the saints, he thought, I’ll remember old Ercole for this insult. He shall wish that he had never been born before I have done with him.

But at the moment Ferrara was no place for him.

There was one other: Naples. At Naples he could make his plans.

Naples. It was now in the hands of the Spanish, which was perhaps better than being in the hands of the French. The Spanish King had been annoyed at Cesare’s one-time friendship with the King of France, but that was over now, and the Borgias were after all Spanish. Oh yes, it was at Naples that he could expect to find that temporary refuge which he sought.

So he set out for Naples and during the ride south great plans were forming in his head. He must find new allies. Sanchia was in Naples; he flattered himself that he had always been able to subdue Sanchia; his brother Goffredo was there, and Goffredo was still eager to tell the world that he was a Borgia, so Cesare could count on Goffredo’s loyal support. The children of the Vatican had also been taken there, so there would be an element of Rome at the Naples court.

Perhaps there would be others less pleased to see him; for instance there would be the relations of Lucrezia’s second husband, the Duke of Bisceglie. They might still harbor resentment, but he had no fear of them. In Naples he would make new plans.

The first of these would be to strengthen his friendship with the man who had been set up in charge of Naples by orders of the King of Spain. This was a pleasure-loving handsome young man, Consalvo de Cordoba, who was known as the Great Captain. He had been a friend of the Borgia family, and Cesare saw no reason why, with this man’s help, he should not find sanctuary while he gathered together an army and prepared to go into battle.

How different was this journey into Naples from others in which he had taken part! He remembered riding in triumph, the people running from their houses to look at him, calling a welcome to him, while the fear of him showed in their faces.

Now he rode in unheralded.


* * *

When he was installed in the lodgings allotted to him he was told that a visitor had called and was asking to be brought into his presence.

“Is it the Captain?” he asked.

“My lord,” he was told, “it is a lady.”

That made him smile. He guessed who it was, and he had expected her.

She came into his presence and, when they were alone, she threw off the cape and flung aside the mask she was wearing.

Her adventures had not impaired her beauty. There was Sanchia, voluptuous as ever, her dark hair falling about her shoulders, her blue eyes flashing.

“Sanchia,” he cried and would have embraced her, but she held up an imperious hand.

“Times have changed, Cesare,” she said.

“Yet you come hot-foot to see me, the moment I arrive in Naples.”

“For the sake of old friendship,” she said.

He took her hand and kissed it. “For what else?” he asked.

She tore her hand away and he caught her by the shoulders. Her eyes flashed. She cried: “Have a care, Cesare. The Captain is my very good friend, and you do not come this time as a conqueror.”

He dropped his hands and throwing back his head burst into loud laughter.

“The Captain is your friend!” he sneered. “Well, it is what we must expect. He is in command here, and Sanchia must command him. Is it due to you that I owe the hospitality I now receive?”

“It might be so,” she said. “At least it is friendship which brings me here. I have come to warn you.”

He looked disappointed. “I thought you had come to recall—and relive—old times.”

“Nothing of that sort!” she flashed. “Everything of that nature is over between us. I see that though you have lost Romagna you have lost little of your arrogance, Cesare. Times change and we must change with them.”

“That which I have lost, I will regain.”

“You will need to go very carefully if you are to do so, and it is for that reason that I have come to warn you.”

“Well, what are these dire warnings you have to offer?”

“Firstly do not arouse the Captain’s jealousy.”

“That will be difficult to avoid, dear Sanchia. You are as desirable as ever, and I am but human.”

“Your life is in his hands. He is a good man who does not forget his friends in adversity; but you need to be careful. Your only friend in this court is your brother Goffredo.”

“Where is he now?”

“I know not. He and I rarely meet.”

“I see the Captain is a jealous man who will not tolerate husbands!”

She lifted her shoulders. “The court abounds with your enemies, Cesare. Naples did not love you after the murder of my brother.”

“Yet you continued to love me.”

“If I ever loved you Cesare, I ceased to do so then. There was passion between us afterward, but it was the passion of hate rather than love. Do you remember Jeronimo Mancioni?”

Cesare shook his head.

“You would not of course remember such a trivial incident. There have been so many like it in your life. He wrote an essay on what took place during the capture of Faenza. Doubtless it was a true account, but it did not please you. No, of course you would not remember Jeronimo. He remembers you though. His family remember also. Payment was demanded of him for writing that essay—his right hand was cut off and his tongue cut out. Such things are remembered, Cesare, when a man is in decline. I warn you, that is all. Have a care. You will need to walk more warily here in Naples than you ever did in your Roman prison.”

Cesare shrugged aside her warnings.

He would have taken her into his arms, but she would have none of that. He laughed at her playing the game of loyalty to her Spanish Captain. How long would that last? he asked himself. He visualized that before he was ready to set out on the re-conquest of Romagna, Sanchia would be his mistress and all his enemies in Naples would be fawning on him.


* * *

Hope had returned. Goffredo was there, with the old admiration shining in his eyes. Goffredo was ready to serve his brother, heart and soul. It was wonderful at such times to recall the devotion of his family. Lucrezia was raising men, selling her valuable jewels, writing letters to influential men begging their help for her brother; and now here was Goffredo. Alexander the great central figure was gone but they were still the Borgias.

Cesare was himself again. His arrogance had returned in full force. Sanchia was not yet his mistress, but that would come. Soon all in Italy should learn that the Borgia star had suffered but a temporary eclipse.

Consalvo de Cordoba was uneasy. He fervently wished that Cesare Borgia had chosen a different refuge. Consalvo was a man who prided himself on his honor, and from the moment he had heard Cesare was on his way to Naples his anxiety had began. He had received honors from Alexander, and he was not the man to turn from his friends when they were no longer of material value. He wished to help Cesare; yet at the same time he must not forget that he was in the service of his King.

In the days which followed Cesare’s arrival in Naples, Consalvo received no orders from Spain; therefore he welcomed Cesare and made it clear that his ill-fortune had not altered his friendship for the Borgia.