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.
But he was wondering what orders he would receive when the knowledge that Cesare was in Naples reached Spain.
Sanchia was aware of his anxieties and sought to comfort him, for Sanchia was enchanted by her Great Captain. Handsome, powerful, he had won her admiration, and she had quickly surrendered herself to the new ruler of Naples. She was with him when orders came from Spain.
He read them and was lost in thought. Sanchia wound her arms about him and whispered: “What ails you, my Captain?”
He looked at her and smiled sadly. He knew that she had once been Cesare’s mistress for their love affair had been one of the scandals of Rome. He wondered about her, this strange tempestuous woman who had continued her relationship with Cesare after the murder of her brother whom she had dearly loved.
His own relationship with her had taught him something of her character. He wondered whether Cesare still attracted her; he wanted to find out, and at the same time he wanted to ease his own conscience; he therefore decided to confide in her.
“Orders from my King,” he said.
“Concerning Cesare?”
He nodded.
Sanchia went on: “Cesare has made himself hated by the world. The King of Spain, I can believe, does not wish him to regain his Kingdom.”
“You are right. I am to arrest him and send him to Spain. My King does not trust the Italians to keep him prisoner.”
“If he goes to Spain it will be the end of his hopes.”
Consalvo agreed.
“Why should this make you sad, my Captain? What is Cesare Borgia to you?”
“His father was my friend.”
“The Borgias were friends only to those who could be useful to them.”
“I have given him my word that he shall find sanctuary here.”
“And you have given him that. It is only when the matter is taken out of your hands that you must cancel it.”
“The Duchess of Gandia has pleaded with Ferdinand, my King, that justice be demanded for the murder of her husband Giovanni Borgia.”
“So Cesare is now to be made to pay for that long-ago crime, the murder of his own brother!”
“Crimes have long shadows.”
Sanchia was suddenly afraid. “If you go to his lodgings, he will fight. He is surrounded by men whom he has made his own, either through bribes or fear. My Captain, I am afraid. I am always afraid of Cesare.”
“I must lure him from his lodgings. I do not wish for bloodshed. I must get him to the Castel del Ovo.”
Sanchia nodded.
Consalvo waited awhile.
Would Sanchia warn her old lover? He wondered. There was an uncanny power in these Borgias; Consalvo had been conscious of it since Cesare had come to Naples. He was a man who had suffered terrible sickness and heartbreaking defeat; yet his resilience was becoming more and more apparent every day. With a little help Cesare would regain his kingdom.
Oddly enough Consalvo had wanted to give that help. He was not a man who wished to stamp on the lame. He would have wished to plead Cesare’s cause with King Ferdinand, to have passed on Cesare’s explanation of the need to make the French alliance when he had done so.
Consalvo believed that he could have done that successfully; but Cesare’s old crimes were creeping up on him. The pleading of his murdered brother’s widow had decided Ferdinand that Cesare should be brought to Spain where he could answer that charge and make no more trouble in the Italian States.
Consalvo must do his duty. He was first of all a soldier. But he wondered—and in some measure he hoped she would—whether Sanchia would warn her old lover of the danger in which he found himself.
Now in the Castel del Ovo troops were waiting, and Consalvo must lure Cesare to the castle with some false tale of danger. He, Consalvo, must invite the son of his old friend to sanctuary which would in reality be a trap.
Such conduct deeply perturbed a man of the Great Captain’s conscience. He hoped that when his messenger arrived at Cesare’s lodgings, the Borgia would be gone.
Sanchia had shut herself into her apartments and would allow none of her women to come near her.
Her eyes were as brilliant as sapphires and as hard as diamonds.
Very soon Cesare might leave Naples—for a Spanish prison; and it was in her power to save him.
She thought of their stormy relationship, of all the pleasure it had brought her. She was recalling those tempestuous scenes which had delighted and exhilarated her. She remembered the hate she had felt for Cesare, the deep satisfaction which she, a strong sensual woman, had derived from their encounters.
Often she dreamed of Cesare … Cesare bending over her, quarrelling with her, Cesare making love.
She was remembering also her little brother, Alfonso, so beautiful, so like herself. Insignificant little incidents from childhood would occur to her—the way he smiled, the way he lisped her name, the way he trotted after her with so much admiration in his bright blue eyes for his clever sister Sanchia. Then she thought of his coming into the Vatican with the hideous wounds inflicted on Cesare’s orders; she remembered his casting himself at the feet of herself and Lucrezia, clutching their skirts, begging them to defend him from Cesare.
Then she remembered his limp body lying across the bed with bruises, made by Cesare’s murderers, on his throat.
And remembering she covered her face with her hands and wept, wept for the little brother whose life had been cut short by Cesare Borgia.
Cesare was in his lodgings when the messenger came.
“I come from the Great Captain,” he told Cesare.
“What news?”
“My lord, you must leave this lodging at once. My master has heard that enemies of yours are gathering in large numbers and preparing to attack you here and do to you what you have done to one of them.”
“Who are these?”
“It is the family of Jeronimo Mancioni, my lord. He who lost his tongue and right hand. This night they will strike. The Great Captain offers you refuge in the Castel del Ovo. He says that it is imperative that you leave at once.”