The Cardinals were astonished, for the Pope had openly acknowledged Cesare as his son.

“But, Most Holy Lord, this is surely an impossibility.”

“How so?” asked the Pope with bland surprise.

Orsini and Pallavicini looked at each other in bewilderment. Then Orsini spoke. “Holy Father, if Cesare Borgia is your son, how could it be that he is of legitimate birth?”

Alexander smiled from Orsini to Pallavicini as though they were two simple children.

“Cesare Borgia,” he said, “is the son of Vannozza Catanei, a woman of Rome. At the time of his birth she was a married woman. That dispenses with Cesare’s illegitimacy, for a child born in wedlock is legitimate, is he not?”

“Holiness,” murmured Pallavicini, “we were unaware that the lady was married at the time of his birth. It is generally believed that it was not until after the birth of her daughter Lucrezia that she married Giorgio di Croce.”

“It is true that the marriage with Giorgio di Croce took place after the birth of Lucrezia, but the lady was married before that. Her husband was a certain Domenico d’Arignano, who was an official of the Church.”

The Cardinals bowed. “Then that proves Cesare Borgia to be legitimate, Holiness.”

“It does indeed,” said the Pope, smiling at them. “Let a bull be made stating his parentage and his legitimacy.” His expression was regretful; it saddened him to deny his son; yet such denial there must be in the name of ambition. He added: “Since I had taken this young man under my patronage I allowed him to adopt the name of Borgia.”

The Cardinals murmured: “We will immediately obey your wishes, Most Holy Father.”

But when they had left him the Pope immediately set about drawing up another bull in which he declared that he was the father of Cesare Borgia. It saddened him a little that this bull must be a secret one—for a while.


* * *

Cesare raged up and down Lucrezia’s apartment, and in vain did she try to soothe him.

“Not content,” cried Cesare, “with forcing me into the Church my father now allows it to be said that I am the son of a certain Domenico d’Arignano. And who is Domenico d’Arignano, I beg you tell me. Who has ever heard of Domenico d’Arignano?”

“They will hear of him now,” said Lucrezia gently. “The whole world will hear of him. His claim to fame will be that he was named as your father.”

“Insult after insult!” cried Cesare. “Humiliation after humiliation! How much longer must I endure this state of affairs?”

“My dearest brother, our father but wishes to advance you. In his opinion, it is necessary that you become a Cardinal, and this is the only way in which he can make you one.”

“So he denies me!”

“It is only for a while.”

“Never,” cried Cesare, beating his fists on his chest, “will I forget that my father has denied me.”


* * *

Meanwhile Alexander had called together a Consistory, that Cesare might be declared legitimate.

He had chosen this moment because so many had left Rome. The weather was hot and sultry and there had been reports of plague in various quarters. When pestilence crept into the city those who could invariably made an excuse to escape to their estates and vineyards in the country. This was such a time.

Alexander knew that there had been a great deal of opposition among the Cardinals on account of the favors he had bestowed on his family and friends; the matters he had to lay before them now concerned not only his son but the brother of his mistress, for although he had promised Giulia that her brother should have his Cardinal’s hat it had not yet been bestowed upon him.

There were few Cardinals present at the Consistory, which pleased Alexander. Better to deal with a few opponents than many. But those who were present were suspicious because they understood that this was a preliminary move and they feared what was to come. Alexander carried nepotism too far, they said to one another. It would not be long before every man in any position of importance was one put there to serve the Pope.

And their suspicions increased when Alexander folded his beautiful hands, smiled his most benign smile and declared: “My Lord Cardinals, make the necessary preparations. Tomorrow we elect the new Cardinals.”

Then all was clear. Cesare had been declared legitimate that he might be made a Cardinal.

There was a faint murmur throughout the assembly, and many eyes were turned to Cardinal Carafa who had on previous occasions shown himself bold enough to oppose the Pope.

“Most Holy Lord,” said Carafa, “has your Holiness given due consideration to the usefulness of making these nominations?”

Again that bland smile. “The question of creating these Cardinals concerns me alone.”

“Holiness,” said a voice from the assembly, “there are many among us who feel that it is not necessary to make new Cardinals at this time.”

The smile disappeared from the face of the Pope, and for a moment all those assembled caught a glimpse of an Alexander who usually remained hidden.

Carafa boldly went on: “The point is, Holiness, that we know some of those names which you intend to propose, and we do not think they are suitable for the office, nor would we wish them to be our colleagues.”

This was a direct reference to Cesare’s reputation and a reminder that he had been seen in the city in the company of the courtesan, Fiametta. Cesare had deliberately flaunted his friendship with the woman, anticipating a scene such as this.

It was characteristic of Alexander that his anger should be not against Cesare but the Cardinals.

He seemed to grow in stature. The Cardinals trembled before him, for there was a legend in Rome that no man of Alexander’s age could possess such virility, such amazingly good health, unless he was superhuman. Those Cardinals felt that legend to be true as now their Pope faced them in his unaccustomed anger.

“You must learn who Alexander VI is,” he cried. “And if you persist in your intransigence I shall annoy you all by making as many new Cardinals as I wish. You will never drive me from Rome, and any who try to, or oppose me in any way, will be very foolish men. You should really ponder on how foolish they will be.”

There was a short silence while Alexander looked angrily at the crestfallen Cardinals before him.

Then with the utmost dignity he went on: “Now we will nominate the new Cardinals.”

And when the assembly saw that at the head of the list were the names of Cesare Borgia and Alessandro Farnese, and that all the thirteen proposed were men who could be trusted to work for the Pope against his enemies, they realized that there was nothing they dared do but agree to their election.

Alexander smiled at them, and the benevolent look had returned to his face.


* * *

When the Cardinals had left the Pope’s presence they discussed the situation.

Della Rovere, who always looked upon himself as a leader, recovered his belligerence although in the presence of the Pope he had been as subdued as the rest.

His one-time enemy Ascanio Sforza supported him. How long were they to endure the outrageous nepotism of the Pope? they asked each other. Not content with making a Cardinal of his illegitimate son, he had done the same for his mistress’s brother. All the new nominees were his pawns. Soon there would be scarcely a man in an influential position to raise his voice against Alexander.

And what was Alexander’s policy? To enrich his own family and friends? It seemed so.

There were rumors in the city that men were dying mysteriously. Cesare Borgia’s evil reputation was growing; it was now said that he was interested in and made a study of the art of poisoning; and that he had many malignant recipes which came from the Spanish Moors. But from whom would Cesare have learned this lore? From his father?

“Beware of the Borgias!” Those words were becoming more and more frequently heard throughout the city.

Alexander was aware of what was happening and, fearing a schism, he acted with his usual vigor. He made Ascanio Sforza almost a prisoner in the Vatican; and seeing what had happened to Sforza, della Rovere made haste to leave Rome.


* * *

Lucrezia’s husband apprehensively watched the growing unrest. His relative and patron, Ascanio Sforza, was powerless in the Vatican. Moreover Giovanni Sforza knew that the Pope was less pleased with the marriage of his daughter than he had been, and that already he was on the look-out for a bridegroom who could bring him more profit.

The marriage had never been consummated; the dowry had never been paid. What sort of marriage was this?

He was beset by fears on all sides. He could not sleep easily for he was sure that he was spied on in the Vatican. He was afraid of the Orsinis who were allies of Naples and had always been the enemies of Milan. Would they, he wondered, now that he was out of favor at the Vatican, feel it to be a good opportunity to dispose of him? If he wandered across the bridge of St. Angelo, would they come sweeping down from Monte Giordano and run a knife through his body? And if they did, who would care?

Giovanni Sforza was a man who was sorry for himself; he always had been. His relatives cared little for him—as did the new connections he had acquired through his marriage.

His little bride—she seemed a gentle creature, but he must not forget that she was one of them—was a Borgia, and who would trust a Borgia?