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The Borgias S3E10
Pt. 25 Undone
Lucrezia was so filled with joy at the prospect of returning to Rome, even briefly, that she was too excited to eat breakfast the next morning before she left; she saw to Giovanni's needs and insisted that Miracella have her morning meal amidst her and Pietra's protests that Lucrezia should not go without a meal herself.
"My Lady, you must eat something..." Pietra begged her as Miracella left Giovanni's nursery reluctantly.
"No, my stomach is in knots already...please just pack enough water and a loaf of bread for me, Pietra, it is really all that I'll be able to manage, but do pack something nice for Miracella."
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, my Lady?"
"I need you here, Pietra, to keep and eye on things..." Lucrezia said delicately.
"You mean Donatella..."
"Yes; I understand her sadness and discontent, but I will not go through another episode as distasteful as the one I experienced with Tomas; I shall keep my eye on her and give her a chance to get over her upset but if she does not and continues to hold me in contempt she will have to seek employment elsewhere."
"I understand, my Lady."
"I do not seek to place you in an untenable situation, Pietra; I am not asking you to be a spy, only a presence, while I am gone. I trust that Maria holds the rest of the staff under her capable and authoritative sway, but she is also a friend of Donatella and will cover for her; I am hoping that with you here Donatella will curb her worst sentiments and come back to herself more as her grief abates—I must give her that opportunity, whether or not she is aware of it, or even appreciates it."
"You are most fair, my Lady; I know what they say about me but I can handle them, for I sleep well at night knowing that you are such a kind employer and appreciate that I can please you without doing harm or sabotage to others, or without compromise to myself."
"Thank you, Pietra, it is my honor to hear you say such words," Lucrezia gave the girl a warm and genuine hug. "There are things I cannot divulge to you at the moment, but it is my wish, before your service is done with me, to secure suitable husbands for you and Miracella, both. I've had my eye on some fine gentlemen in town that I would endeavor to make your acquaintance to when I return, for I'm afraid your employment with me shall end much sooner than I expected. You would like to stay here in Nepi under such a circumstance, would you not?"
"Oh, my Lady! I most certainly would! Thank you for your kind consideration!" the girl said excitedly.
"I'm not sure about Miracella—her heart appears to still be bound to Rome, but I shall put the same prospect to her and see how she feels."
"I hope she says yes, my Lady, this is a most lovely town."
"It is—pray on it as I will, yes, Pietra?"
"I will, my Lady. I'm off to pack the three of you a basket now," Pietra smiled happily at her before she took her leave.
Lucrezia's smile at Pietra faded as soon as the door closed behind her; she went to Giovanni, who was awake and content in his crib and then sat heavily down in the chair next to it; as happy as she was to go home she still wished that she did not have to face the prospect of another husband; she knew that she was bound already to say yes to the man—her father and her brother had negotiated it and sealed the deal. What really was the point in meeting him at all? And who was this man, really? Could she truly be expected to believe all of his heady promises? Whether they came from Cesare's mouth or his own—where was the rub? Surely, there had to be one.
And then there was the other matter that made her heart heavy and her head ache—could she possibly be carrying her own brother's child? Could she live with such a secret if it turned out to be true? There surely had to be a special place in hell for them, both, for all that they had done—and all that they yet might dare to do—and there was no one on earth that she could unburden herself to, not even an unknown priest in a confessional. Lucrezia determined within herself that she would not succumb to another outburst of tears, for she had spent most of her night doing that, already; she got up and went to a window and opened it, then took a deep breath of the cool morning air before she closed it back. She went next to Giovanni and lifted him gently from his crib.
"Oh, my little darling..." she spoke sweetly yet so sadly to him, "Mama will get through this moment and this day; I will see your grand-mama and papa and shall keep my tongue and my temper; I shall reign in my truest heartaches and meet this Duke, charm him, lie to him, if I must, to secure a future for you and your little brother or sister, yes? For neither of you asked to be brought into this world; and for my sins I will pay, my love, but not you—never you...that is my promise to you both..."
By seven that morning Lucrezia had bid her court adieu and was on the road home to Rome. Pietra noted that her lady's joy from earlier that morning had turned to the same melancholy she'd been overcome by upon her arrival to Nepi and her heart went out to her—the woman truly did not want to marry again; it was more than evident that her joy at returning home was over-shadowed by the advent of her next sure betrothal. Miracella, on the other hand, had been positively giddy. Pietra was sure that had everything to do with the head coachman, Dante Pileggio, who had settled his attention recently upon her and away from the caustic Signorina del Vecchio. Even though he seemed like a bit of a ladies man Miracella was the nicer girl and he looked like he knew how to show a woman a good time—and Miracella had long been in need of a good time; Pietra was happy for her. As the carriage and the fifty cavaliers that flanked it disappeared from sight of the castle gates Pietra went back inside to help clear away breakfast.
"Ah, there she is—the lady's favorite, left behind to keep watch on us all," Donatella sneered at her from her seat at the dining table.
"Donatella, mind yourself..." Maria warned her.
"No, Maria, let her be herself and mourn her man as she will," Pietra told her, more than unfazed at the woman's venom directed at her.
"So, you don't deny it then," Donatella continued.
"Enough, woman, or you'll be next with walking papers from the Lady," Ersilio grunted at her after he finished his cup of tea and rose irritatedly from the table.
"Of course you have no problem with any of this, Ersilio—all it takes is money with the lot of you—and the Spanish bastard bitch's favor—tell me, does the Lady's asshole taste as sweet as her smile looks? Surely, you would know..."
"I've work to do," he hissed at her as he slammed his cup down on the table. "I suggest you get to yours, if you know what's good for you."
"Really? And what would be good for me should I choose not to be a good little lapdog at my Lady's feet? Eh? A trip down a craggy cliff in the foggy dead of night? Like my Tomas?" she slurred at him; Lavinia looked askance at her; the only others left at the table by then were Cristoforo, who silently decided that it was a good time to join his brother, Vicenzo, out in the stables, and Tiberio, who followed closely behind him out of the kitchen to go chop some firewood.
"I've had it to here with your rantings and accusations, woman—it's as if Tomas has come back to haunt us by possessing your very soul," Ersilio told her in great disgust.
"And what if he has? I welcome him and am honored to receive him..." Donatella threw her arms open wide, then hugged herself; through closed eyes she began to rock herself in a gentle sway.
"You speak the words of an insane person, " Lavinia spoke up then, unsettled by her friend's on-going spiral into dangerous discontent; she took the woman's cup and sniffed it, then screwed-up her face in certain distaste. "And you're in your cups? So early in the morning—you have been possessed..."
Donatella's eyes shot open then, and were full of anger and despair. "Yes! I'm possessed! By my love, I am possessed!"
Pietra said not another word to any of them as she gathered a washboard and a bucket and left to go do the washing.
"Some spy you are, eh? Come back, spy!" Donatella rose on drunken unsteady legs and called after Pietra.
"Enough, Donatella! Lavinia, finish those dishes up for me please, I'll be back shortly...I've got to get her ready for her appointment this morning—come on, you..." Maria went to her and took her by her arm gently.
"Yes, ma'am..." Lavinia gave her a little curtsey and took Maria's dish cloth.
"No! I don't want to go to bed—I want my Tomas!" Donatella wailed as she tried to sit sit back down. "This was his chair, you know...his favorite seat at this table...where he used to sit next to me..." she said as if in a trance.
"Stop it, Donatella! And give it up, already—Tomas did not love you—he hated you as much as he hated the Borgia's; and the Jews...and the Moors—anyone not Roman—and his own sorry life..."
"Ersilio, no..." Maria hissed at him.
"She needs to hear it, Maria—he hated you for being a Jew," Ersilio erupted at her. "He doesn't deserve your tears, woman, and certainly not your defense," the man railed unmercifully at her.
"I am no Jew! He loved me! What do you know, Ersilio, you were no friend of his!" she roared at him.
"Maybe not, but I heard his condemnation of you and often..."
"He was drunk!" Donatella made to lunge and swing at him but Maria held her back.
"No, Donatella, he wasn't always drunk; but he was always conflicted over you, del Vecchio..."
"I am a good Roman! My family has been here for centuries!" she shrieked at him.
"Yes, after they were expelled from Jerusalem!"
"How dare you!"
"I care not, Donatella, but he did!"
"No! He loved me!" She broke down into more wretched tears.
"He loved you but he despised you more, Donatella; that man was full of hate and prejudice—why do you think he never married you?"
"Ersilio, that's enough from you now—go to work..." Maria yelled at him as the woman sobbed into her stout chest. "As a matter of fact, you go and identify his body, for this girl is simply in no condition to do so now...yes? YES?"
"Yes, Maria, I'll go," Ersilio said finally.
"Damn right, you will," she pronounced at him; she turned her attention back to her drunken friend. "Here now, that's quite enough, Donatella—let's get you to your room now and sleep it off," Maria coaxed her as she led the distraught woman away to her quarters.
When Lucrezia arrived at Castel Sant'Angelo she went directly to her mother's apartment.
"Lucrezia, my love! Giovanni! My loves!" Vannozza exclaimed happily as she approached them where they stood at her door, with her arms open wide.
"Mother..."
"Oh, I've missed you so! My darling, beautiful girl," Vannozza smothered them both with kisses. "Your father is conducting Vatican business now, of course, and you shall see him at dinner tonight—how are you, my love? How are you feeling?"
"The nausea has started already, I'm afraid..." Lucrezia said sourly.
"Let me look at you—turn around—yes, like that—no, you're not showing yet..." Vannozza surveyed her as she cradled Giovanni in arms.
"It has only been two months or so, mother..." Lucrezia reminded her irritatedly.
"You're tired, my love, and distraught—I can see it all in your face. Try not to worry, my love, the Duke is most pleasing—you will find him to be kind and soft-spoken—but do not take it for a weakness—he is a warrior-born, like your brother, and he does not mince words."
"Joy," Lucrezia replied testily.
"Yes, you most assuredly need to take your rest, my love, for there is only ever one time when you are so uncharacteristically disagreeable, and that is during your pregnancy..."
"I am disagreeable, mother, because of the immediate future that awaits me," Lucrezia snapped at her mother.
"At least you get to meet him, Lucrezia—I made sure to see to that, ever since—"
"Yes, ever since Sforza, I know, mother. What does it matter? I'm sure the ink on the contract is as crusty as a stale loaf of bread."
"You chose Alfonso for yourself, Lucrezia, and—"
"Yes, I did—and we see how well that worked out, hmm? Father allowed that once but I am sure that with this alliance the benefit is all his; this interview tomorrow is a sham, meant to appease me, make me feel as if I have a say in my fate when we all know that I do not."
"Alright, that's enough—to my bed for a nap...now—you'll be human when you awake—at least I hope so—and then we can talk, for you are being more than impossible at the moment," Vannozza dismissed her daughter firmly. "Well, stop standing there glaring at me and go on—Giovanni is mine—go now, Lucrezia," Vannozza ordered her daughter.
Lucrezia left without further argument and when she closed the door to her mother's suite she flung herself onto the bed then rolled over on her back and stared vacantly up at the ceiling. Marriage. All that marriage had ever amounted to in her life had been death: the death of her first husband—who had deserved it; the death of her second, who had not; the death of her innocence.
Marriage had meant blood: the blood of soldiers and innocent citizens; the blood of kings; blood shed at the hands of brother against brother; blood on Cesare's hands, that was same as the blood on her own. And so much blood on her hands, too: Giovanni Sforza's; King Ferdinand's; Prince Raphael's; Alfonso...Paolo...Juan.
Her tears came in a torrent then, for them all, but especially for Alfonso, whose love had been destined never to be enough for her; and sweet, gallant Paolo, who found death because she dared to love him, at all; and Juan...who had loved her once but had turned so cruel and so weak; he had been a total failure as Gonfalonier, but it was his egregious actions against little Giovanni, and therefore herself, that had sent Cesare to his rage and broken the last fragile thread of their volatile relationship and thus Juan to his death. And now there was the blood of Tomas Gambino on her hands. Where would it all end? Pondering that question she rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in her hands and cried herself to sleep.
Although it had presented a host of complications, Rodrigo had been genuinely happy to hear that his daughter had another precious child on the way and had told her so in his letter that summoned her home. He had two interruptions that day as he went about his duties: one notifying him that his daughter had arrived; the other, in the early evening, as Cardinal Farnese finished his financial report, that the the Duke of Ferrara would be in Rome with the sunrise the next morning.
When the young cardinal realized his words were falling on deaf ears he stopped abruptly. "Your Holiness? Are you alright?"
"Oh..." Rodrigo chuckled, "forgive Us, Cardinal—thank you for your report—We are glad to hear that solvency it not at issue at the present moment. No, it has been a long day and Our daughter awaits Us."
"Very good, Your Holiness, please give her my regards?"
"We will...uh, how is your dear sister, these days? Is she a happy bride?"
"She is, Your Holiness, thank you."
Rodrigo gave a relieved smile at him.
"Will Lady Lucrezia be in Rome long enough to see Giulia? It would make my sister most happy if they could see each other, Your Holiness."
"Ah, We wish it could be so, but Lucrezia will only be here for a few days; you may, however, inform your dear sister that Lucrezia will return to Rome soon and stay until she is betrothed again."
"Giulia will be pleased to hear it, Your Holiness."
"And you, Alessandro—how do you fare these days? It has been a while since We have had a moment with you."
"I am fine, Your Holiness, thank you for asking. I am more than fine, actually—Silvia is with child, Your Holiness—I am to be a father!" the young man told him then, unable to hold back his excitement.
"Ah! Congratulations, Alessandro, that is wonderful news, indeed. Give Our kind regards to your Lady and let her know that Our blessings and best wishes are ever with the three of you, hmm?"
"I will, Your Holiness, thank you so much."
"Very good then—Our lovely families await us, then, do they not? Close your ledger books now and go on to yours; have a happy evening, Cardinal," Rodrigo smiled at him as he gave a fatherly pat upon Alessandro's shoulder.
"And you as well, Your Holiness...goodnight."
Rodrigo left the smiling man and headed off to have dinner with the two most important women in his life.
"What do you mean, she will not come out, Vannozza? I've not set eyes on my daughter for months now, and she refuses to see me?" There was great hurt registered in Rodrigo's voice as he paced the anteroom between the salon and Vannozza's suite, where his daughter had locked herself away from them.
"I have tried to get her to come out, my love, but she has locked the door and will not answer me...not even to Giovanni's cries has she responded..."
"Oh, no..." Rodrigo moaned wearily, "what now? What is it, now?"
"I don't know, but it appears to be worse than when she refused Giovanni her breast to secure his father a proper burial..."
"The Duke arrives at sun-up, this cannot be happening..." he sighed his great consternation at her.
"I know that she truly desires not to marry again, but I had no idea that it was this bad, Rodrigo...she is as a soldier who's come home from war, vacant and damaged, and jumps to the ceiling at the sound of a twig breaking under foot..."
Rodrigo and Vannozza heard the crisp snap of a cloak being cast aside and the heavy clank of armor announcing bold steps coming toward them then."That's because she is a soldier indeed, weary from battle and undone...and each of us is to blame," came the stern voice of their son when he came to a halt before them.