Lucrezia bounced her infant son, Giovanni, on her knee in a vain attempt to calm him down. Since his birth he had hated travel, keeping his mother up with his constant wailing. Sometimes she wondered if he was more intuitive than she realised, and knew that not all was right with the family he was born into. After all, Lucrezia could not remember a time when she hadn't known.

Eventually her manservant opened the curtains to their litter, and Lucrezia was more than relieved to have finished her journey. Stepping out, she could see why she rarely heard from Joffre; Squillace was such a peaceful place, she could not imagine ever wanting to trade it for the toxic atmosphere of Rome.

Joffre waited for her in the moderately sized entrance to the palace. He's grown, she thought, examining his serene face which looked a copy of their mother's. As she ushered her inside she marvelled at the elegant simplicity of his home. An ancient fortress, the city echoed the lives of those who used to live there; from Roman generals to Norman kings.

Joffre was the first to break the silence. "So much has happened since we parted."

It was not just his appearance that had aged, it seemed, but his voice. It was deeper, and changed from the worries of ruling a city and, she imagined, news from home.

"Indeed. It seems we are now missing one brother, and I a husband," Lucrezia watched the floor as she spoke. "Tell me, Joffre, what do you make of all this? Our father almost loses his life, our brother sets about conquering Italy, I am held hostage in Naples and you are left here, forgotten."

"In truth, sister, I have a palace and a beautiful wife without need for intrigue or blood. I am blessed to be the forgotten Borgia."

The two siblings walked through the winding corridors of the palace, both deep in thought but neither of them saying a word. At last they came to a lavishly decorated chamber, fitted with a large bed and a crib covered on cloth of gold.

"You shall rest here," Joffre smiled, "And the crib is for your child. I have arranged for a wet-nurse to care for him while you are here."

"There is no need," Lucrezia decided. "I am resolved to live according to my own conscience rather than the ruling of our father and, as such, I should be raising my son as Isee fit. There will be no wet-nurse."

"You are really doing this?" Joffre raised an eyebrow. "You would erase the past and start again?"

"If you would help me, brother."

"You know that you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you wish. We are family – what is mine is yours."

"It is not just that, brother, although I receive it most gratefully," Lucrezia said. "I need you to help me become the forgotten Borgia."

It wasn't until Cesare took the bowl of hot stew from Signora Corelli's hands that he realised how famished he was. He had been riding for days without rest, as if he had no plans of stopping.

"Mother," Micheletto grumbled, "Would you be kind enough to give me and my dittori some privacy. We have matters to discuss."

"Of course, my bambino, but don't you let him take you back to Rome," she frowned. "I have my son back and I am never letting him go again."

They both listened to make sure she was out of earshot before they began speaking.

"You should not have come searching for me, Cesare Borgia. It is too dangerous."

"I fear my only alternative was more dangerous still," Cesare countered. "To be left alone, without my beloved sister or loyal henchman. I am a wreck, Micheletto, so I came to ask a favour."

"There is no way I can be of service to you, my lord," Micheletto shook his head. "My mother is becoming frail, and my place is here in Forli."

"Your place is with me, Micheletto. You swore loyalty to me."

That was when Micheletto saw it: the look he saw when Cesare talked about the many women he'd given his heart to – Ursula, his lover who had entered a convent to rid herself of the guilt of her husband's death; Caterina Sforza, who despite the apparent physicality of their relationship, Micheletto had seen a flicker of affection in Cesare; and –

"What do you need me for?" Micheletto found himself asking, somewhat against his will.

"I need you to go to Squillace and keep an eye on my sister. I fear for the damage she would do to this family … and to herself."

Lucrezia Borgia, the real light of Cesare Borgia's eye. Having served Cesare for years, Micheletto had long known that she was the motivation behind everything he did. His insatiable greed for her affections had a remarkable impact on his mind which impeded all logic. Micheletto knew this well, and yet he couldn't help but feel an unwavering love for the man he had served for so long. He hoped that one day Cesare would see all that he had done for him, and reward him with that look that had eluded him for so long.

"I cannot help you, my lord," Micheletto frowned. "You may lodge here for tonight, but then you must go."

Cesare could see that no words would persuade his former henchman to join him again, but failed to see why. His face looked like it was in some kind of pain, though Cesare could not see a cause. He wanted to ask him, perhaps to console him, but as ever, he drew himself away from the conversation and remained cold and aloof, as if their relationship was nothing more than business; it could never be anything else.