The hooded young man stood on the fringes of the small Roman market taking in the sight before his calculating hazel eyes. The market was busy, movement happening so constantly that the weary traveller in exile could not keep track of any potential threat coming towards him. It seemed peaceful but one could never know. The traveller watched silently fretting when he spotted two papal guards passing by, or were they the French? He tried to blend into the background without looking too conspicuous. The papal guards passed without comment and Alfonso of Naples let out a sigh of relief he hadn't realised he was holding. He pressed forward through the crowd the dome of St Peter's in the distance luring him towards much needed sanctuary like the three wise men had been guided by the star over the birthplace of Jesus Christ. Alfonso took his time gently passing by the throngs of woman and children buying fish, fruit and God knows what else. As heir to the throne of Naples, he had long enjoyed a privileged life, but that however did not mean he had never been to a common market before. There was a stark difference, there would be a procession, he would ride one of the best horses in Italy and he would be dressed like a King. Now however to his dismay the local peasants pushed by him impatiently, some even shoved into his back causing him to stumble forward. He was about two more blows away from taking out his sword and hacking down everyone in sight when he made his way out of the crowded hobble of activity and found himself standing across from St Peter's Square.
The Vatican was a glorious sight, the so called Renaissance showed off the prestige and wealth of the Holy Father's home. The holy father Alexander VI of course had another home, and another country of origin. He was Rodrigo Borgia, a Spaniard, who cunningly gained the throne of St Peter's, a former Cardinal with a concubine who had spawned him four bastard children, Cesare who was said to be the most talented son, Juan who Alfonso had personally met and personally found wanting. There was a daughter Lucrezia who through his Milanese relations had learned that she was both pretty and naïve -, the baby of the family was Joffre Borgia, Alfonso's darling brother in law. Joffre could not have been any older than twelve and was married to Alfonso's elder half sister, herself illegitimate. That was the family he was travelling to see, he would seek aid from the only one of his father's many bastards that he loved let alone liked. And she would protect him, they had always been close he and Sancha. He could trust her even if the only fight her husband could conduct was a pillow one.
Limping towards St Peter's door Alfonso reflected that one day Peter would be standing at a gate upon his arrival, Alfonso put that thought to the side hoping it was many years from now. He was alive and he had a throne to gain back from the French King who was as foreign as he was ugly. The limp in Alfonso's left knee happened when his old trustee horse Orland had stumbled slightly, swaying and then threw him off. Orland had become as old and senile as Alfonso's father and Alfonso was saddened when he put the old horse down, but there had been also relief or was he thinking once again of his father? Orland unlike his father Ferrante had been unceremoniously thrown into a ditch as Alfonso had not got the time to prepare a mass and a proper grave, he hoped Orland and even St Peter would one day understand. The beauty and magnificence of the outer church halted as soon as the door closed instead one was surrounded by darkness and a daunting feeling. A sinner would not be able to stay, the eerie feeling of stepping into God's most sacred church would humble them. And how was it that he was able to walk in so easily? He had expected guards? Even a priest? Preferably the pope. But there was no one. Not one person in a church in Rome? So the rumours were true, Rome had become soulless, gone were the days of peace, prayer and celibacy, and now the papacy had gone to Hell. Nepotism, scandal, murder, sex, prostitution…Sancha really knew how to paint a beautiful picture of her new home. She had grown restless in Naples, not that she was the maternal type, she wasn't broody for an army of kids, she wanted…well sex.
Alfonso had thought of ways to improve his own fortune, his father's fortune, Naples's fortune whilst finding a way to scratch Sancha's itch and he proposed to the holy father that his sister Sancha marry the pope's elder eligible son Juan Borgia. To his dismay, irritation and amusement the unholy bastard Juan Borgia a mere son of a noble born pope had disregarded the proposal claiming he could not marry an illegitimate daughter of the house of Aragon, and would only accept a legitimate Princess. In what world did the man think they were living? Did he expect the Catholic Kings to give one of their daughters to him? Of King Henry of England to give his daughter to him? Alfonso could swear on Orland's grave that no King of Europe would offer their daughter to the foolish son of the pope. Back in Naples, Alfonso strutted around annoyed while Sancha had claimed she did not mind her latest rejection, while some woman eat their feelings, Sancha rides them out with Alfonso's male friends. And she had particularly hit close to home the last time with several of his best childhood companions. Alfonso had gotten his own back, he proposed that Joffre Borgia marry Sancha who had not known precisely how old her prospective bridegroom's age until her daft brother in law came to Naples and told her. Alfonso would have liked to have been present for the wedding but urgent political misery had been on the agenda in Naples for some time.
Pulling his mind back to the present Alfonso spotted a small man lurking in the background near the alter. Alfonso barely managed to stop himself from shouting out remembering that he was in a church. He strode over as best and as quickly as he could, cursing Orland once again as the sharp pain in his leg slowed him down, but alas he couldn't kill the stupid horse twice. The small man spotted him and anxiously looked around him, Alfonso hadn't the time to reflect that he looked like a maniac, having had little food and water, as well as wearing the same stable boy clothing since he left Naples, his face was rugged from the lack of shaving and his hair was more shaggy than he would have liked. Alfonso stood in front of the small man.
'Who are you?' Alfonso demanded from the man who nervously fiddled with the sleeve of his robes.
'I am Johannes Burchart, I am a priest and a lawyer for the Vatican, Who are you?' The man said in such a small quivering voice that Alfonso was forced to crane his neck to hear him. He ignored the man's question, waiting for the opportune moment for the big Royal reveal.
'I am looking for the holy father' Alfonso said adding silently that he was also looking for a miracle. Maybe catching the Holy Father would be the miracle. Burchart again nodded glancing around him, Alfonso was unnerved by the man's nerves and glanced around in case Charles VIII stepped out of the shadows showing his face and frightening Alfonso to death.
'The holy father is travelling with his family at the moment Signor' Burchart said shuffling from one foot to the other. Alfonso tried to keep his temper in check as he realised this little man would not say where? And since Alfonso never trusted a lawyer he was not inclined to trust this one, perhaps he was also pro-French. Alfonso had also dark thoughts of tying the man upside down and forcing the information out of him if he was at home he would have taken the man to his father's grizzly favourite room and shown him Ferrante of Naples's patiently long sought collection. However Alfonso was too humbled by the thought he was in St Peter's basilica and St Peter would not look upon such a punishment as justifiable having known a thing or two about it himself.
'Do you know where Don Joffre Borgia is?' Alfonso asked surely where Joffre was Sancha was trawling reluctantly behind him. Alfonso embarrassingly saw the man frown in confusion.
'That's the little one yes?' He asked him and Alfonso nodded seeing now how his little joke with Sancha had come back to slap him across the face. Alfonso looked at the man darkly.
'Is Juan Borgia here?' He asked hating he was forced to ask that buffoon for help. The little man's grey eyes widened slightly and he nodded looking relieved.
'Yes, the Gonfalonier is in his quarters' He said quickly and Alfonso smirked.
'Take me there at once' He ordered as the little man hesitated.
'Are you a friend of Don Juan?' He asked and Alfonso laughed priggishly, as cowardly as the little lawyer was Alfonso gave him points for having some inner strength to ask him that cautious question. He was asking if Alfonso had the urge to throttle Juan if they met…. Alfonso wondered if anyone else found Juan as annoying as he did, and if threats to the man's life was a common occurrence.
'Not really but this is a matter of life and death' Alfonso drawled chiding himself silently over his dramatic reply. Burchart did not recoil from Alfonso's words but nodded and gestured for him to follow. Alfonso nodded curtly and was led by the little man through the hallways from St Peter's towards the military compound. Alfonso gritted his teeth as his bad knee cried out for a rest. They passed various Vatican officials, clerks, lawyers, military men and concubines. Alfonso was on edge to point out that he could not truly tell which were the soldiers and which were the ladies but refrained as Burchart did not seem to have a sense of humour. They approached the Gonfaloniere's rooms and Burchart hesitated before knocking. Alfonso rolled his eyes.
'For God's sake man, will you just knock before he leaves Rome' He ordered huffing, Burchart raised a shaking hand and pounded on the door with more strength that Alfonso would have warranted him. They waited, and then waited….. And waited. Alfonso pressed himself closer to the door to hear if anyone was there, to his disgust he could hear the Holy father's son moaning in ecstasy, Alfonso rolled his eyes again, this young buck was going to make a Royal Princess a very happy lady. Alfonso stood back and decided to give the mighty Gonfalonier about twenty seconds. He waited patiently and jealously as he heard that idiot chanting 'yes, yes, yes!' Alfonso took a moment to reflect that Rome was indeed a city of miracles, if that man could charm a lady to fall into bed with him, so could he Alfonso of Naples…..without needing to promise the lady offices and titles for her father and brothers. Although Alfonso was no virgin, he was not wildly chasing ladies like his father had a hundred years or so before, mistresses were to be used and then discarded, wives were for heirs, love was a rare possibility but not something to pin ones hopes on. Besides all relationships that started in love, end in disaster.
Alfonso thirty second later heard Juan thankfully shout out pleased with his lady friend and Alfonso moved from one foot to the other, he glanced at the lawyer and saw he was as red as a rose blushing profoundly like a little girl. Alfonso let out a little laugh and turned his attention back to the door. He almost put his fist through the door as he banged on it for Juan's attention. Juan had precisely forty seconds to extract himself from his lady friend, remove his sweaty body from his bed, peel the covers off him, find a pair of breeches as Alfonso was impatient, hungry and tired from his long journey from Naples. He was one step away from kicking the door down, Alfonso pounded on the door once more, he heard complaints from inside passing between Juan and his mistress. Alfonso was about to raise his bad knee to kick at the door when Juan swung the door back, his light brown hair was matted to his forehead, his cheeks ruddy, sweat dripping down them, and he was breathing like an oversized bull. Juan's eyes widened when he realised who Alfonso was.
'Prince Alfonso?' He asked loudly in surprise as Burchart exclaimed, Alfonso could see the bed behind Juan and saw that the man's lady friend seemed to fall off the bed in shock. Alfonso directed his attention back to Juan Borgia and just before he spoke, the mysterious lady friend came towards the door elbowing Juan out of her way. Alfonso was surprised, and then disappointed in himself that he was surprised when he saw his beloved sister Sancha standing in the doorway with a thin white sheet around her. It all happened so fast Sancha squealed and hugged her deranged brother, Juan spoke to Burchart with the self-importance he should not have, and Alfonso was bundled into the room quickly and the door slammed closed on the little lawyer's face. Sancha threw Alfonso into a chair and cupped his face examining and fretting over several of his bruises and cuts which marred what she described as his 'angelic' face as Juan stood in the background watching the interaction darkly.
'Make yourself useful Juan, pour him a generous cup of wine' She said and Juan moved towards the counter where he kept his drinks. Alfonso closed his eyes as Sancha caressed his face and soothed his unnerved senses. Their father had had many children, many were called Ferrante, some were called Alfonso, some were Federico, some were in their forties, some were in their thirties, all of them were either full or half siblings, Alfonso certainly had more half brothers than he had half sisters indeed he had nephews of the half blood his own age but for as long as he could remember it had been Sancha he had felt at peace with mostly. Juan handed him some wine which he greedily drank praying to remove the taste of river water from his taste buds knowing it will never be erased from his mind. He felt Sancha hug him again and he smiled. Sancha was the only person to hug him, his father had ceased to recognise him by the time he was three, and his mother had been gone just as long.
'I have been so worried about you' She muttered into his ear, he would have been more inclined to believe her had he met her praying in St Peter's and not servicing her brother in law - although it could have been worst she could have been having an affair with her father in law. Thank God for Gulia la Belle Farnese!
'Yes I believe you were' Alfonso muttered helping himself to some food on the table next to him, he examined the bread he picked up and almost cheered having discovered no trace of mould on it. As soon as Alfonso was watered and fed by his sister, Sancha launched in. She demanded to know of his escape from Naples, what had happened along the way? Who did he come with? What was his plan? Who? What? Why? Where? When? How? No wonder his father chose to deaf. As best as he could he tried to explain the last days of the Neapolitan court. How a deadly plague had spread like fire throughout their beautiful city, how many of their extended half blood family were dead, how many of his old friends were dead, how many of her friends were dead. The Palace was a graveyard and their father would be proud to know a last supper was in every room. He explained his flight under darkness with only two - now dead - servants on his old and trusty horse Orland, Sancha smiled affectionately and told Juan she had been taught to ride on Orland herself, she asked him to make sure grooms attended to the poor animal. Alfonso was building up the courage to tell her that Orland was in a better place when Juan offended him greatly.
'Could you have not have stayed, muster up an army and repel the French?' Juan asked and Alfonso curled his fist as Sancha dug her nails into him.
'Have you not seen their army, Charles seems to have brought all of France with him' Alfonso snapped as Sancha shushed them both and patted her brother affectionately. She called for some maids to prepare a bath for Alfonso who grunted in agreement. Alfonso was too tired to think how no one seemed too surprised that Donna Sancha was in her brother in law's rooms.
'Borgia? Where is your father?' Alfonso asked eyeing a particularly shapely lady with a nice face. Many men Alfonso knew did not care for faces, they insisted that was why the sun set and night came, but for Alfonso he was more picky he could not have any old sea monster hovering above him. Juan took a moment to answer Alfonso, if he was wondering whether or not to tell Alfonso the truth or perhaps that was simply how long it took him to form an answer Alfonso wasn't sure but eventually Sancha answered instead.
'He is visiting the Donna Lucrezia who is in a convent' Sancha said her eyes glistening meaning she had a very interesting story to tell Alfonso when she could. There was only three reasons why a lady usually went to a convent, to live as a nun, and the Borgia's didn't strike Alfonso as a particularly holy family, the second was to seek medical attention with a fatal illness and judging by Sancha excitement that could not be right, which left the last one, to cover the birth of an illegitimate child. Last Alfonso knew about Lucrezia Borgia was that she was married to Giovanni Sforza, a dull man who had a face only a mother could love, and considering she was only a skip of a girl it would not be too surprising to see if she strayed.
'My sister is living there until her divorce becomes final' Juan said folding his arms and Alfonso raised an eyebrow.
'Divorce?' He asked and Sancha explained that Giovanni Sforza and Lucrezia Borgia had no consummated their marriage, thus it was invalid. Alfonso remembered that brute of man had come to Naples once and had taken an interest in several busty ladies whilst there, but for the sake of appearances, the need for friendship with the Borgia's and the lure of the hot water from his bath Alfonso said nothing of the amorous sexual activities of Giovanni Sforza. Alfonso stood and began to strip as Juan excused himself, Alfonso shrugged at his hasty departure - they were all adults after all. Sancha sat away from him as he slid into his bath and let out a sigh of contentment for one moment he thought about handing the Crown of Naples with Charles VIII and wish him look, get a plot of land, make some money, live the life of luxury and find himself a busty beauty like the one who was scrubbing his back.
'So your brother in law sister?' Alfonso said shaking his head, Sancha smiled but did not turn to look at him, they were not that close.
'Have you met my husband?' Sancha asked and Alfonso laughed - How could he have?
'No of course not' He told her and she nodded.
'When you do, you will understand' She said and Alfonso laughed noticing the busty lady cringing and he stopped.
'And where is Don Joffre?' He asked and Sancha fiddled with her hair as she answered.
'I suspect he is living with his mother Donna Vanozza, who is being visited rather frequently by her former husband Theo' Sancha said, Alfonso sat up intrigued, his sister knew how much he loved gossip which in her earlier letters to him had been full with it, obviously later Juan took up most her time.
'And what is her former husband this Theo?' He asked even if he hated his wife, and she mostly hated him, there was no way he would ever let her ever cuckold him.
'He was a Sheppard of some sort, I am not sure, Donna Vanozza has not quite warmed to me' Sancha who was sleeping with one of Vanozza's sons while being married to the other seemed oddly surprised. Alfonso bit his tongue to stop himself offending his dear sister.
'Are they reuniting?' Alfonso asked loving a good love story and Sancha smiled endearingly towards him as Alfonso began to scrub his arms.
'Who knows, he does not dress like a peasant, I have heard she has long given him money to support himself, apparently between them they own a number of inns in Rome and on the outskirts' She said and Alfonso nodded.
'And what of Cardinal Borgia and the Baroness?' Alfonso asked remembering that the Baroness was in fact the Dowager Baroness as her husband had been fished out of the Tiber, all of which Sancha has dutifully reported to him.
'She broke off communications with Cardinal Borgia, and from what I can squeeze from Juan is that she is living in a nunnery to repent for her sins' Sancha said clearly not favourable to that line of thought, only when she was dead would Sancha repent. Alfonso counted them on his fingers, one, Joffre, two, Lucrezia, three, Juan, four, Cesare, five, Vanozza - ah yes.
'And what of the holy father and his concubine?' He asked and Sancha said nothing for a moment then replied.
'Nothing' She shrugged, Alfonso found it hard that la Belle Farnese was producing more scandal for him to enjoy. Alfonso shooed the ladies away and he stood up naked from his bath and stretched over for the tower and wrapped it around his waist his sister glanced towards him.
'And what of you my dear little brother, what are your plans?' She asked and Alfonso smiled shaking his head allowing the wet to spray all over Juan Borgia's dirty sheets.
'I am here in Rome seeking sanctuary, I am not too far from Naples itself, I am here to make sure the Pope keeps to the alliance he made between us when you married Joffre his son' Alfonso said clearing his ears of wax, it was a habit he and Sancha preformed religiously as when they were very little it was how courtiers explained why their father could not hear them speaking to them, that his ears were full of wax, it was an innocent little story instead of telling two children their father was mad. Sancha stood and Alfonso could see she still had not dressed, he watched as she picked some of Juan's clothes and told him to dress in them. Sancha had handed him clean underwear, a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt and a vest with red and gold vertical stripes. They were roughly his size and they were thankfully clean.
'Now sister are you not dressing yourself?' He asked and she nodded.
'You should rest my darling brother, I will go off and find Juan, I will convince him to escort you to convent and introduce you to the pope and his mistress Gulia Farnese' Sancha said and Alfonso nodded about to protest he was not tired when he yawned against his will. His sister guided him from Juan's rooms and brought him down the hall without a care that she was in merely a sheet. She brought him into a room and forced to lie on the bed.
'I'm not even tired' He yawned moving in the bed to get comfortable. Sancha pulled a rug over him and he fell sleepily into a deep sleep not even hearing her leave and shut the door behind her.