Chapter XLIX Innocent Angels
Ye Fair, with charms divine, I know your fame;
No more I'll burn my fingers in the flame.
From you a soft sensation seems to rise,
And, to the heart, advances through the eyes;
What there it causes I've no need to tell:
Some die of love, or languish in the spell.
Far better surely mortals here might do;
There's no occasion dangers to pursue.
~ Jean de la Fontaine
"My love, I cannot bear this, this separation. I would have you…tonight."
Cesare sighed, "'Crezia, you know I would take you right now, mother's presence not ten feet away be damned, and would never stop until my heart ceased beating within my breast. Yet, you know full well I cannot and it would send our mother into hysterics. Just know, sweetest of sisters and dearest of lovers, that I do indeed love you with my heart, soul and body, though body must be withheld from you for the moment."
"I have not heard you say such words to me since your wife whelped your child seven nights past. They are a much needed reminder of your ardour, my love." Lucrezia whispered, taking care of her mother's ear fixed close by.
"My wife has been placated by that child resting in her belly. Neither mean to me what you do. You have my heart and I trust that I have yours."
Lucrezia turned deliberately, concealing her front from unwelcome eyes so she was only visible to those of her lover, and placed Cesare's hand on her chest where her heart beat beneath smooth skin and flawless flesh, "My heart has your name inscribed on it in blood and tears so it can never be wiped away."
Swiftly removing his hand before it wandered south of its own accord, Cesare brushed his nose against his sister's and said, "Enough of this talk, now, I would return our company to mother before she grows suspicious."
"Mother, have you wine? We would take refreshment with you after our meal before retiring."
"Indeed, Cesare, I have just requested that it be brought. I do not get to see my living children often enough and would be glad to share a cup, would that the wine could banish the shades of my lost sons from this house."
In the moments following their mother's dolorous words, both her children felt tangs of guilt that proceeded from their recent words of unrequited, eternal love which would only add to the burden ploughing through Vannozza's weeping heart. Neither truly recollected with fondness their departed brothers, being so consumed in protecting their love and lives from those who sought their ruination. They vowed in that moment to set aside the forbidden passion of lovers and simply be the siblings they were as children when Cesare was no Prince of the Church and Lucrezia was yet unwed. Their love was a private affair and did not belong in their mother's house, for there, they were all the true family she had left to her.
"See," Cesare announced, wishing to dispel the sombre ambiance of the room, now beginning to weigh both women down, "the wine has come. Let me serve you both."
Having filled the vessels with the wine fermented from grapes harvested from the Borgia vineyards in Valencia – a taste of home – they sat and sipped silently for a few minutes before Cesare had an idea how to bring cheer and succour to his despondent female companions.
"Lucrezia, will you dance with me if I call for music?" Cesare asked, snapping her out of her gloom.
"I would be glad to, brother." She replied, fully comprehending what emotion he was planning to elicit from their mother.
Within minutes, musicians were summoned and installed in the villa's dining chamber, adequate enough for two to dance together. Cesare invited his sister to stand up with him and guided her into position.
"Play La Spagna!" He barked, concentrating fully on his beauteous partner.
As the music started up, both Borgias bowed and curtsied before making the steps of their favourite dance as children. For, La Spagna had been the first dance their dance master had taught them, a simple and easy Bassa Danza for children to learn. Their mother had often sat and observed their dance lessons, smiling throughout, even when one of them bellowed at the other because toes had been trodden on. She used to say that watching her oldest son dance with her only daughter made her forget all the times neighbours came to complain of Juan's misdemeanours and Gioffre's wailing through the night. It was her time of peace in the day and a gift from her children.
As Cesare hooked his arm around his sister's slender waist, bringing her close, he whispered, "She is looking up and there are the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of her lips."
Before Lucrezia could form reply, the steps necessitated her withdrawal from her brother's hold and she had to wait until the next riprese before she was close enough to speak in confidence, "She is smiling now brother, but she is not looking at us, her gaze goes right through us."
Cesare kissed her chastely on the cheek with a kiss full of promise and fondness that told more of their future as lovers than their past as childhood siblings.
Unbeknownst to her prancing children, Vannozza did see her children and had her senses not dulled from grief, weariness and the sheer will to see more light in her dreary existence, she might have given more creed to the questions percolating within her concerning that lingering kiss on her daughter's cheek and the relationship it implied. Yet, her willpower to return to a time when she had all her children about her and was not ravaged by the politics of Rome or a lover who strayed from her bed saw her mind's eye forced past the sorrow and intrigue to those years long ago when all her children were bloodless and innocent as angels.
"Mama! Mama, come quickly," a young boy's voice screeched, "'she's bleeding!"
Vannozza had been closeted in her babe, Gioffre's nursery, trying with the wet nurse to get the child to stop screaming. Of all her four children, she had never experienced the kind of torment her youngest (and last!) baby inflicted upon her heart and ears. Cesare had been a sound sleeper, which had given her unrealistic expectations as a new, first-time mother and while Juan had been hard to soothe and preferred to wake up every couple of hours, he did not ruin his lungs in-so-doing. Lucrezia was the exact middle ground between her older siblings and had not slept the first few months during which time she was in her mama's care.
Despite Rodrigo and Vannozza constantly attempting different, tested ways of settling their daughter, the petulant infant would not find rest herself nor let any member of her family sleep without being aware that she could not. No one could pacify the poor child, not her parents, the nursemaid, the wet nurse still employed for Juan, and she would not be lulled through swaddling, rocking, swinging or singing. Just as the mother of three was truly contemplating taking her daughter of angelic appearance but appalling attitude down to the creek and holding her down under the water, something in the fatigued household altered. Once this murderous plan had solidified, Vannozza awoke to quiet, the only sound punctuating the silence being Rodrigo's regular and soft snores. Her first instinct was to return to sleep and forget the despicable machination that she had dreamt up, but to her abject horror she realised she had been stirred because she had slept with ease and nothing was amiss to keep her from slumbering longer.
"Lucrezia!" She cried, swirling out of the bed and flashing out of her bedchamber, speeding down the vestibule to the nursery where her daughter had her cot.
As she rounded the corner into the room, the sight that greeted her made tears swell in her eyes and nearly caused her heart to emerge from her breast. She looked to the heavens and thanked the Lord for keeping her from rousing the babe with her frantic arrival and satisfied her daughter had not been spirited away by demons in the night and no longer warranted a one-way adventure to the stream, Vannozza Cattaneo retreated and returned to her rooms to wake the father of her children so he could see what – or who – had finally permitted their family to gain an interlude of peace because Lucrezia had found a way to get to sleep.
She entered the room where her common-law husband was still snoring against his pillow and spoke gently to him, "Rodrigo, my love, wake up. You must wake up. A miracle has happened."
Once this soft manner of rousing the man proved to be futile, Vannozza put a hand across his mouth as if to asphyxiate him and bit him on the ear. Her hold over his open mouth stifled the yell that followed from the shock of having one's ear bitten during deep sleep but before he could express his ire at being so stirred, his lover shushed him and pulled him from the warmth of their bed and down the corridor to the nursery.
While they crept along together, Vannozza asked, "What can you hear, Rodrigo?"
"Nothing."
She giggled at the gruffness of his reply, not sorry for interrupting his sleep, "Precisely the point, dearest. Now, come along…quietly, and I'll show you who is responsible for our renewed ability and our daughter's newfound ability to sleep."
When the parents looked in at their daughter's nursery, Vannozza looked at the father beside her as he first saw the moving tableau she had already committed to memory. Rodrigo's lips softened, his head tilted to the left and the grip he held on her hand tightened.
"Quite a vision, aren't they?" Vannozza whispered.
"They are indeed, my love."
Rodrigo felt as though his heart was being rent in two as his eyes fell upon the sight of his eldest son sitting in the window seat of the nursery with cushions at his back and covered in the blanket from the baby's cot. As if the image of his five year old boy sleeping so were not enough to move his father to tears, the heavily wrapped bundle resting in his arms purring on his lap and fast asleep conjured many emotions within the two adults and neither could find the words.
"After all these months," Rodrigo inquired, quietly and aghast, "of trying to get her to sleep, little Cesare held her in his arms and manages to accomplish what we – her parents – have not in four months?"
"It would seem so, but let us take advantage of Lucrezia's sleep, and return to bed ourselves. She's content enough in her brother's company and it would be a shame to wake them."
And so it was that the only one who could soothe their daughter until she became a good sleeper after her first year was Cesare. For a boy that was so glum and completely uninspired by his younger brother's presence in his life and indeed, everything else about him, the effect this baby girl had had on the boy coaxed out a new and welcome side in the eldest Borgia that was an enigma to his parents. All anyone – Cesare, Vannozza and Rodrigo in particular – knew was that Cesare adored his little sister to the ends of the earth and nothing made him more pleased each night than singing lullabies to his blonde cherub of a sister.
When Gioffre had refused to sleep, his parents had insisted almost immediately that Cesare employ the same methods and fraternal love but his efforts were futile and the baby still would not sleep. It endured to such a level that Vannozza, with three older children wanting her attention and time, gave up the duty of pacifying her youngest to his wet-nurse. Her days were spent teaching Lucrezia to stitch or helping Cesare with his reading or punishing Juan for his latest adventure that had landed him in trouble. She could not bear to listen to Gioffre's cries and had him with her only when he was alert and awake, sending him to his nanny when he needed sleep.
During this time, when Gioffre's wet-nurse had come to her to ask for help settling the young child, who was suspected to be unwell, Vannozza heard the voice of her eldest calling out to her.
"Mama! Mama, come quickly, she's bleeding!"
"You will have to settle and watch him yourself for signs of fever, Francesca." Vannozza barked at the servant, gathering her skirts and running towards the alarmed voice.
"Cesare!"
When she rounded a corner into the courtyard in front of their rustic villa, Vannozza saw two children lying prostrate on the ground as though they had returned from battle instead of playing in the vineyards. Cesare had dust shrouding him from his wild, curly hair to his feet and Lucrezia was unconscious but had blood running down the back of her soft peach gown just starting to pool. Her son had evidently exerted himself bearing his sister across the property back to the villa and had collapsed beneath his sister's limp form.
Running towards her two children she asked, "What happened, my son?"
Cesare, explaining through the tears, the tiredness and the trauma, spluttered out, "She fell. We were playing hide and seek in the north vineyard and I didn't see what happened, mama, but she fell and I heard her cry out. She lost consciousness immediately, I think. I knew not what to do so I carried her back here. She has spoken a few times with fewer words. Must I run for the physician?"
"Yes, child," Vannozza agreed, seeing her daughter so injured, "fetch him and send one of the ushers to your father."
Within the hour, the surgeon had come and minutes behind him, the anxious father flew through the door of his home. The doctor bandaged the wound and reassured the family that unless the girl became gripped by fever, she would recover but ought not to exert herself for a few weeks nor stray so far from the villa.
"Come, my dears," Rodrigo said to his family all gathered round his daughter's bedside, "it is fruitless for us to linger hereabout. Her maidservant will tend to her and bring news should any arise. We all have other matters to attend to."
Vannozza would have loved to soundly chastise her lover for his callousness and lack of understanding for summoning them all away, yet she still could hear the sounds of her youngest babe unable to be put to sleep. The grief of being torn between her two youngest children in their times of need tore at her heart but she acquiesced to Rodrigo's request and removed herself to the nursery as her other companions departed themselves.
She was surprised when she heard Rodrigo brusquely call out her eldest son's name and turned to find Cesare still stalwart beside his sister.
"Cesare, will come away from her please? There is nothing you can do for her here. Besides, you are still dirty from carrying her all that way. You need to bathe."
"I am sorry, mama," Cesare said, tears still in his eyes, "to disobey you, but I will not leave her. I will stay with her and if there's news I'll send Giovanna, but I'll stay. If you would have me bathe, send in a basin."
Rodrigo was about to chastise his errant child when Vannozza held him back. She saw the unrelenting concern for his sister in his eyes and the inexorable love for her. No, he would not stir nor be shifted from her side.
"As you wish, Cesare. You have all our," Vannozza began, glaring at the child's father instructing him to remain silent, "gratitude for what you did to bring your sister home. She probably owes you her life. Your father and I are so proud God gave us you as our son."
"Thank you mother."
Vannozza smiled at the anticipated concise reply but saw the emotion and determination in the black of his eyes. She left, taking Rodrigo with her, with the promise to send a servant up from the kitchens with a basin of water he could use to wash.
Such a brother and sister were never put on earth before her eldest son and only daughter were born, Vannozza mused as she watched them dance together: a thought that brought a long-absent smile back to her face. She looked to the skies and prayed that nothing diminish the love they bore each other or take them from their mother.
