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The Borgias S3E10
Pt. 48 Without Apology
Refreshed from a full night of sleep, Lucrezia awoke the next morning in fair mood and disposition; her sleep had not been disturbed, her dreams she could not remember and even the advent of her brother's departure caused her no melancholy. She found herself actually looking forward to what the new day held for her and was surprised when she realized that her first waking thought had not been of Cesare.
"There may yet be hope for me..." she muttered to herself out loud through a languorous stretch and a loud yawn after she sat up in her bed. She had given instructions to be awakened in time to dress and see her brother off, but she was happy to note that the sun had not yet risen and that her own happy anticipation of Gioffre reuniting with his beloved nephews was a better herald to the day than any servant employed to knock upon her door. When the girl did come Lucrezia was up, in her robe and preparing to go the the bathing room.
"Oh! My Lady! I did mean to be late," her nervous young maid exclaimed when she came into Lucrezia's bedchamber.
"No, you are on time, I am early—only apologize to me if you tell me that my bath is not ready," Lucrezia smiled at the girl.
"Oh, no, my Lady, your tub is filled, hot and waiting for you," the girl curtsied her assurance at her.
"Very good—do calm down, I am only excited to see my brother..." Lucrezia gave the girl's hand a little pat as she passed her.
"Yes, my Lady, I'm sure." The girl smiled her relief as she rushed away behind her brisk-walking charge.
When Lucrezia returned to her room she found Lucia waiting for her.
"Good morning, my Lady!"
"Good morning, Lucia, and how are you today?"
"Very well, thank you. I see that you have two gowns laid out—which would you like to wear?"
"I think the emerald green suits me today..."
"Very good, let's get you dressed, then..." she said brightly as she began to do just that. "Your brother and Cardinal Borgia are still in the banquet hall having their repast with the Duke, my Lady, you have time to eat something, yourself."
Lucrezia noticed, of course, that Lucia said nothing of Alfonso, and again found that her pride would not allow her to ask of him. "Oh, no, Lucia, maybe I will have my appetite after they are gone, I shall just be happy to sit and join them."
"Very good, I'll inform cook—now, your hair..."
"There's no time, I shall just leave it loose, Lucia..."
"Yes, your curls are so lovely..." the woman said in true admiration.
"Thank you—I think the gold bonnet there will compliment nicely, hmm?"
"Oh yes..." Lucia said as she placed it delicately upon Lucrezia's head and tied the ruby-encrusted satin ribbon around it to hold it in place. "Just lovely. You do look most lovely—you had a better night's sleep, I trust?"
"I did, thank you—I didn't think it was possible but the new bed linens felt ever more wonderful than the ones they replaced, Lucia; I felt as if I was sleeping upon the very clouds in the sky," Lucrezia marveled.
"I'm so glad to hear it. There is an artisan that we have been using to spin the threads for these linens since our Dear Duchess Eleanor was a young girl herself; the woman is old but has passed her skill on to her own daughters."
"What a lovely tradition."
"Yes, my Lady," Lucia smile proudly.
"Alright then, not another moment to waste?" Lucrezia smiled brightly as she led the way on eager feet to the banquet hall.
"So...is there word? Is a date set yet?"
"No; their trepidation is a good sign that their confidence is sorely lacking, I think, no matter how eagerly della Rovere tries to rally them."
"We hope."
Micheletto grunted his own contemplation as he continued to peruse the missives that he had stolen out of the palazzo before dawn to retrieve from one of his own men.
They were in Cesare's suite, one of the two that had been graciously appointed them for their overnight stay at da Vinci's; Micheletto's night had been such a busy one, however, that he had not set foot inside of his even once.
"Did you learn anything from your new friend last night," Cesare asked him with a knowing smirk upon his face.
"Many things—words stream from his lips like water from a fountain when his nerves are on edge...some of them even useful."
"And you found that out how?"
"How else? By keeping him nervous."
Cesare laughed out loud. "I can only imagine. And what did you find out?"
"He leaves with da Vinci for Rome after we depart...to go and conference with the Masters regarding Michelangelo."
"So?"
"They will be hosted by the daughter of Michelangelo's patron..."
Cesare waited with a look of confusion on his face. "What do we care of Michelangelo's patron?"
"Felice della Rovere."
"Felice? Really..." Cesare was more than surprised.
"It appears that the Cardinal's interest in the boy is more than professionally inclined."
Cesare raised an eyebrow.
Micheletto gave a nod.
"The hypocrite...traitor to everyone."
Micheletto nodded again.
"Was there anything else?"
"Our friend continues to play both sides of the fence—no matter what his lips say he still has a very soft spot for his Medici's; the word is he that is working on a tome..."
"So? That's what he does, what is so special about that?"
"It is about you, Cesare."
Cesare let out an unbelieving little guffaw. "Me? What on God's Earth could he be writing about me?"
"No one knows the content, but you are most assuredly the inspiration and the Medici's are his certain audience; according to my nervous little Salai it is all of the talk—a lingering ripple effect resulting from the many speculations regarding the demise of Ramiro d'Orco—and the last few dispatches he's got through to Florence—he doesn't know what to trust anymore, where you are concerned, and the Medici's know it."
"Good."
"You should tread very carefully with him, Cesare."
"I always have, my friend—and he awaits us, hmm?"
Micheletto nodded.
"Then let us go and bid our host farewell..."
A half-hour later Cesare and Micheletto had been greeted by Machiavelli and ushered to his, by then, very familiar study. As was customary for Micheletto he remained standing at the door while Cesar and Machiavelli took their seats across the table from each other.
"Your Excellence, so good to see you back in Cesena. Congratulations on the happy marriage of your dear sister."
"And my sincerest thank you," Cesare gave a smile and a humble bow of his head; just then a servant came with goblets and a carafe of wine on a silver platter, set it silently on the table between them and commenced to pouring; after he had served the guest and then his master he took a goblet to Micheletto, who promptly declined with an irritated wave of dismissal at the boy, his eyes and ears trained closely upon the two at the table.
"I understand that you wish to discuss the King and his strange Treaty of Grenada?"
"Ah, you are a busy man, Your Excellence, and so I do understand the need to...cut to the chase."
Cesare was not fazed one bit at Machiavelli's little rebuke.
"I thought that you would," he smiled at him.
"Yes, well, he is having his troubles."
"With Pisa, you mean, of course."
Machiavelli gave a little nod of his head.
"Yes, well, the Pisans are not to be discounted, by any measure."
"Apparently not."
"I do not mean any slight to our good King or our beloved Florence, Machiavelli, but all that I know of warfare I learned in Pisa...as duplicitous as it may sound, I still must say bravo to them."
"Oh, no offense taken, Your Excellence, for your ultimate goal is to wrest away control of foreign domination over Italy, yes? I would say that you simply understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and seek to turn either situation to your advantage. This treaty is proof that our dear King has not yet learned this lesson and manages only to stand very much in his own way."
"And who would you say this to, Machiavelli? I do believe, and understand well, that you still have a very soft spot in your heart for the Medici's."
"Duplicity is a trait of many men, is it not, Your Excellence?" Machiavelli raised his glass as well as a sly smile upon his face at Cesare.
Cesare returned the gesture with a wary smirk upon his own. "Indeed."
There were questions both men wanted to ask of each other but dared not tip their hands in any one direction or the other: Cesare wanted to know if Machiavelli had any insights to offer about Magione for he still had not received the promised French troops from King Louis; more than that he wanted to verify Micheletto's assurance that his twenty-five hundred German mercenaries were still his best-kept secret, for the assumption was that all he had at hand in Imola was a motley group of broken lances; he wanted to know if Il Salaino had held his tongue and that no word of da Vinci's war chariot from hell had escaped the confines of his master's palazzo; he wanted to know what in hell Machiavelli could possibly be writing about him and for what purpose; but in regards to that and the other questions tormenting him at that moment he found it necessary to still his tongue and his curiosity.
Machiavelli was curious to know if da Vinci had seen enough of Cesare's treachery and was yet ready to abandon his brief career as military engineer and get back to his own true life; he wondered how long Florence would tolerate the Borgia's cunning, for he knew that Cesare was intercepting his dispatches to Florence and editing them, and he knew that Cesare knew that he knew it; he could have enjoyed the little game that they played, for he genuinely liked Cesare Borgia and saw in him the abilities of leadership that were lacking so very prominently in the born Sons of Rome—if only he had been born the same and not the son of the Spanish Pope all of Italy would have easily rallied behind him; and Machiavelli's own truest allegiance was to Florence, his beloved Florence.
Both men looked at each other closely, realizing that they had reached a stalemate, a fork in the road leading them onward in very different directions; a path where there was no longer any shared usefulness to one or the other in any form or fashion.
"Well then..." Cesare rose from his seat, "I'm afraid that this is where we must leave it," he said as gave a sincere bow of regret at his host.
Machiavelli rose from his own seat and came around the table to meet his friendly adversary. "I find it hard not to wish you success, Cesare Borgia, for so many reasons that could very well surprise you."
"I do understand, Machiavelli. It has been my honor to know you at all, let alone be privy to your wise counsel. Thank you, sir. I do wish you, very sincerely, well."
Machiavelli gave him a warm smile as he escorted him to his Captain at the door. "Captain," he gave a nod at Micheletto.
"My Lord."
Machiavelli was about to close the study door when he thought better of it and called out to Cesare before he disappeared from sight. Cesare gave a questioning look at Micheletto before he turned around to face him.
"You are the newest Prince in the land: by one's own power, Cesare Borgia, but never forget the will of the people...do you remember?"
"I do—I will not forget," Cesare assured him solemnly with a nod, then turned and continued his brisk pace away.
Cesare and Micheletto were outside of the palazzo and about to mount their horses before either man dared to utter a word.
"He struggles within himself over his desire for revenge against the Medici's and his truest love of Florence," said Micheletto gruffly under his breath through tightly clenched teeth.
Cesare leveled his gaze at Micheletto under furrowed brows but said nothing more as they rode off for Imola.
Lucrezia had not been in her seat at the banquet table even five minutes before Alfonso came in to join the group assembled there; to her surprise he not only acknowledged her but came to her seat, took her hand and gave the back of it a chaste and respectful kiss before he took a seat of his own.
"Good morning to you all and please excuse my absence, my Lord Gioffre...Cardinal Borgia—I had a matter to attend to in the stables and also the foundry..."
"That's my son, there..." Ercole declared proudly to them all, "he could have been a master engineer himself...he's just as happy commanding the forge as he is Ferrara!" he let out a pleased, hearty chuckle.
Alfonso's face turned red as he gave his father an uncomfortable look. "Father, do calm yourself..."
"Oh! I hate modesty! My Lady—" he directed himself at Lucrezia then, "Your husband has ever been a wonder at all that he has ever undertaken...but then, I don't have to tell you, eh?" he ribbed her then.
It was Lucrezia's turn at her cheeks flushing beet red as her smile faded and she looked away from the old man stricken with pure embarrassment.
"Father, really—did you take ale already this morning?" his son asked him angrily. "Lucrezia, please for—"
"Ah! Do not apologize for me," he began belligerently. "Can't an old man be happy, anymore!"
"Of course, father, but to be so indelicate..." it was Alfonso's brother, Cardinal Ippolito d'Este speaking then, who was set to leave with Gioffre and Cardinal Francesco Borgia for his new post as archipresbyter of Saint Peter's. "You shall have your hands full as ever, brother..."
"Do not talk about me as if I am a child, and worse—as if I am not present!" Ercole complained at them both.
Alfonso rose from his seat and went to his father to help him out of his own chair. "Then act like a father, dear Duke, who is indeed present, hmm?" he said softly and with great love in the old man's ear. "The morning is growing late and our family must be on their way..."
Everyone rose from the table then.
"Well, brother, I shall miss you greatly," Lucrezia gave her brother a loving hug and kiss to his cheek.
"And I you, sis; I shall write you straight away about the boys upon my return to Nepi, on that be assured," he smiled down at her.
"Do give them all my love—Maria...Miracella..."
"Of course, my love, and huge hugs and many kisses from mama to the boys."
"Thank you my, love. Godspeed and a safe journey to you all...Cardinal Borgia...Cardinal d'Este..."
"Thank you, my Lady," Ippolito smiled warmly at her.
"Thank you cousin," Francesco kissed her cheek.
"The offer is extended to you all, but Gioffre, when you have the opportunity, please come visit again?"
"Of course, brother-in-law, I shall take you up on that," he beamed at Alfonso.
It was nine o'clock when the three of them set off with their escort of six hundred cavaliers; Lucrezia, Alfonso and Ercole had gone to the Lion's Tower to watch their procession away.
Lucrezia hadn't seen Alfonso since their first night back and his close proximity as he stood behind her made her uneasy. All of his gallantry for her had been a show, to put her brother at ease and ensure that his reports to her family would be happy ones—she was not fooled for a moment; it was all that she could do to keep her body from shivering her disgust at him, enduring him only for the sake of his father who seemed to be growing genuinely keener on her with each passing day.
For his part Alfonso found her discomfiture deliciously and viciously enjoyable.
"Well, daughter, there is much to do, hmm? Tonight we will have a banquet feast in your honor; before the banquet you will honor us with your first grand gesture of charity by releasing some of tamer and reformed prisoners back into the population..." he began excitedly.
"Excuse me, what?"
"It is a custom here in Ferrara for every new Lady of the manor, Lucrezia," Alfonso informed her then.
"Oh...I see." Lucrezia was still a bit bewildered.
"Alfonso, your bride was a wonder at town hall yesterday—a born arbitrator! You must learn the Ferrarese Regulations of the Commissariat, my Lady; and the Municipal and Sumptuary Laws—and of course, all of our Administrations of Justice—a born arbitrator, Alfonso! A joy to behold, she was! Our dear Cardinal Bembo did not do justice to all of your skills..."
"Well, Nepi was a small comune, my Lord, mostly land disputes were all that I heard—far different from this lovely and bristling city," she replied humbly. "Your podesta here is much more than I've ever been acquainted with, even in the Holy City; and in Nepi it was only the Mayor and a handful of merchant volunteers who served as police..."
"Yes, my son here is working on a passport system, my dear; we have had quite an influx of immigrants over the past thirty years, our population has almost doubled in that time—many, many lawless and undesirable individuals, you see; we must keep order—the ceremony that you will perform tonight is a high honor for those that have been deemed rehabilitated and ready to re-join society again—lesser offenders, to be sure, but ready to be responsible, law-abiding citizens again."
"Would you explain your—passport system, you said?"
"Carmen and boatmen would be required to escort strangers directly to the police upon arrival here, you see," Alfonso spoke up then. "The new edict is only proposed now but it will be instituted at my behest very soon; one soldo will go to the podesta upon entrance and another on exit from the city; one half of that will go to the police and other half to the ducal chamber; citizens harboring a stranger will incur a fine of one hundred scudi if they don't report them to the police. I assure you that it is most necessary, Lucrezia."
"I do not doubt it, my Lord."
"Yes, well, enough of that for now—there is much to do with this early, beautiful morning! You are well and fit...we must ride out to the lodge—I would so enjoy the truffle hunt this morning! You haven't been acquainted yet with my lovely bitches—my fine sable Lagottos—you will absolutely love them, Lucrezia—come, my dear..." Ercole beamed at her as he held out his arm and led her away from Alfonso without apology.
Alfonso watched them both in silent amusement as his befuddled bride disappeared from sight.
