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The Borgias S3E10

Pt. 49 Two Can Play This Game


After the truffle hunt in the Coparius Lucrezia and Ercole spent only enough time at the lodge to prepare for the return to Ferrara.

"Well, my dear, we've gotten ourselves quite a haul, eh?" Ercole smiled joyously at her; he handed his very light basket over to the cook when they reached the kitchen.

"All of the morning's work, fighting through the oaks for a handful of tubers—" she said with a little frown as she handed over her own little basket to the cook.

"Ah, but these are white truffles, dear Lucrezia, and this 'handful of tubers', as you call them, would fetch a hefty price at market—fortunately for us we shall enjoy the benefit of the greatest prize they may yet yield on the banquet table tonight!"

It was impossible for Lucrezia not to take joy in her father-in-law's delight; she'd had a dish of black truffles once in her life and did not like them at all, digging around in the mud and the cold for them even less; but she grudgingly admitted to herself that the hike about the grounds had been good exercise for her body and her lungs. More than that, the very best part of the whole endeavor had been the new friend she'd made in the form of the spry, young Lagotto pup—a dark brown fourteen month-old named Princess—that Ercole called his "Sable Beauty".

"Here you go, girls..." he said as he collected scraps for the dogs from the cook's apprentice. "I see that Princess won't let you out of her sight—here, my Lady, she'll love getting this from you..." Ercole handed Lucrezia a treat for the dog. "She's the granddaughter of my own Isabella's dog, you see; she's passed on, of course, and mama Miele is too old to hunt these days. No, it's up to these three sisters now..." he smiled at them all proudly as he treated the other two spirited pups, both waiting excitedly for his favors.

Lucrezia knelt down to reward Princess with her treat, as well as the stroke of her hand across her curly coat. "They are all so very beautiful..."

"Wonderful watch dogs—magnificent with children..." Ercole beamed down at her with a knowing look.

Lucrezia rose and gave him a little smile. "Yes, my Lord."

Ercole managed only barely to turn his twinkling eyes away from her. "Boy—"

"Yes, my Lord?" The apprentice jumped to attention from the counter where he was helping the cook in cleaning the truffles.

"See our girls out to the groomer, hmm?"

"Yes, my Lord..." The boy collected the dogs and herded them away.

"Come, Lucrezia, Lady Lucia awaits you to help you prepare for the ride back..."


Lucrezia was a great success at the banquet that night, but as was becoming his habit it would be the last that she would of Alfonso again for the week. It mattered not to her for she had a new companion, the loving brown Lagotto pup named Princess, that upon return to Ferrara refused to leave Lucrezia's side. Ercole had been correct about her being a good watch dog; though Cardinal Bembo had done well to keep his distance he tried her door again one night only to be met by the low, menacing growl of her new protector.

"Surely you would not growl at the master of the house..." she whispered to Princess; she gave her a calming pat to the head before she went to her door. "Who's there?"

"My Lady, only your humble servant, Cardinal Bembo..."

"It is late, Cardinal—unless you bear news of some dire emergency you will have to take up you business with me in the morning," she called through the door.

"My Lady..."

Just then Princess walked closer to the door, growling loudly the whole of the way, then gave one very decisive bark at it.

"Good night, Cardinal."

Lucrezia heard Bembo walk away from the door.

"Thank you, Princess...that's my very good girl..." she smiled into the dog's fur as she hugged her neck gently. "You shall save me from a certain act of murder..." she cooed at the dog before she rose up from her; she went to bedroom, took the dagger from under her pillow and returned it to its place in her locked cassone.


Because her spirits had been buoyed by a prompt report from Gioffre regarding her children, Lucrezia, much to Ercole d'Este's delight, indeed took his suggestion to heart and immersed herself in studying the laws and Regulations of Ferrara; she spent many evenings seeking his counsel and edification and filled many late nights absorbed in happy research.

Ercole was more than aware that his son and daughter-in-law were experiencing some discord between each other but he did not question his son or interfere in any manner, for he knew that such matters had a way of working themselves out. He realized that his unbridled excitement and mention of grandchildren made Lucrezia uncomfortable and stopped doing so, but he felt that every day was bringing them closer together and he hoped that Lucrezia was taking as much comfort in him as he was taking in her.

Lucrezia found that where Alfonso was absent, and more than silent when he was present, Ercole was a fount of information and a willing historian; he spoke often—lovingly an easily—of his departed wife, the Duchess Eleanora and his beloved late daughter, Beatrice; and even of the heartbreak that was his bastard son, Giulio. Through her father-in-law's many family stories and other recollections Lucrezia was learning not only about Ferrara, but about her husband, as well.

Those first weeks passed quickly and soon Lucrezia found herself close to her trip to Mantua, where she would finally meet the Marquess, Francesco Gonzaga, and the Marquessa, her sister-in-law, Isabella. She had written several letters to Isabella that had gone unanswered and the rebuff had been painful for her. She had decided that it had been just as well—it was easier to deal with one who was a known enemy than an enemy who smiled in one's face as if they were a friend. Lucrezia was not looking forward to the trip at all but gave no indication or testimony to Ercole or her husband, even remotely intimating as much. She imagined that they all corresponded with each other and knew of her distress, anyway. Ercole would not be as indelicate to mention it, and Alfonso would not care, she had convinced herself. As the day had grown closer her paranoia had grown more intense and she was sure that Alfonso and Isabella not only discussed her negatively but laughed at her, as well, and the thought of them doing so made the trip looming imminently before her a very dreaded one.

It was the morning before their departure; the only occasion, since her return from the Coparius that Princess was not at her feet, was when she was collected for grooming and that morning was such a one where Lucrezia was alone in the library. She was reading about the history of the duel, which she had never witnessed with her own eyes but soon would, when Cardinal Bembo interrupted her solitude and came in to join her.

"My Lady."

"You come in without knocking, Cardinal? How overly-familiar of you," she said icily when she looked up from the parchment she was reading.

"I shall miss you on your trip away, my Lady," he smiled at her then.

Lucrezia gave him a look of suspicious regard. "Humph." She rolled her eyes and went back to reading.

"I've only come to warn you about the Marquess, my Lady."

"What on God's earth are you talking about, Cardinal," she asked him with an impatient sigh, still refusing to look at him. "What could you possibly know about the Marquess that would matter to me?"

"I have been in his company before, I assure you—a frottola or two at court with Tromboncino, of course...you must be sure to give him a wide berth—he has a wandering eye and a very untamed spirit."

"His eyes may wander all that they like, it will not mean anything to me, thank you, Cardinal."

"I think not, my Lady; I predict that he will be smitten with your beauty—his wife is a cow and only associates with other cows so that her husband will not be tempted."

"What are you talking about, Cardinal?" Lucrezia threw her parchment down angrily upon the table. "I understand that the Marquessa is most lovely; that her knowledge of art and politics...is simply wondrous."

"No doubt you've heard this from her own father. Her knowledge is, indeed, too wondrous—her own husband is jealous of her. But her beauty?" Bembo screwed up his face and gave an animated shrug of his shoulders at her, "Not so much."

"What is the point to this visit, Cardinal?"

"To remind you that, though your husband may be inattentive, he is a jealous man—and the Marquess is much less discerning than what you are used to."

"Oh!" Lucrezia stood up from the table and stomped her foot in great consternation. "Stop talking in riddles and explain what you are about, Cardinal."

"The word is that the Marquess may very well be a victim of the French Disease, my Lady...he is...favored...by many beautiful women at court and otherwise—he traffics in whores, you see, and—"

"Whores? Really? And don't you all? My husband traffics in whores, but I don't sleep with him and I won't sleep with the—" the words had come angrily out of her mouth before Lucrezia could stop them and she turned away from Bembo in shame.

Bembo wanted to go to her...embrace her—dare to comfort her—but he stayed firmly where he stood.

"I am your friend, remember? I thought that you should know, my Lady, for he is a charming rogue and very persuasive."

Lucrezia turned to face him. "You think that I can be...persuaded? You must think me very weak, then. I do not appreciate that, Pietro."

"I know that you are not weak, Lucrezia, for you have resisted me, have you not? I simply come to caution you—do not allow yourself to be alone with him, that's all." Bembo was not smiling and for the first time in weeks she was truly paying attention to what he had to say.

"Is he that unsavory? Is he a brute? What else do you know, Pietro, that his wife and my own husband do not?"

"I know that the brother and sister are close; I know that the father has not seen the daughter for quite some time; I know that you are neglected here in Ferrara of your husband's attention and that it will be very much the same in Mantua—do not allow yourself to be left alone with the Marquess, Lucrezia," Bembo concluded very pointedly.

"Is there nothing about my life here that is truly private, Pietro?" she asked him in great anguish then.

"Not from the ones who truly care about you, Lucrezia," he answered her solemnly.

"Why does that not comfort me, Pietro?" Her tone was full of sarcasm and despair.

"Just promise me that you will take care, Lucrezia."

"Oh, yes—" she gave him a defiant look, "I promise."

Bembo opened his mouth as if he had something else to say, then thought better of it; he gave her a little nod then took his leave.


Thankfully the ride to Mantua was short; as was usual Lucrezia shared few words with her husband and the tension between them was ever present, but Ercole's presence, and happy service as tour guide of the Lombardy countryside, was a happy and informative distraction. Five hours later the morning sun had still shown no desire to break through the clouds, content to keep its glory unto itself; as such, when the party crossed the bridge between Lago di Mezzo and Lago Inferiore they were greeted first by the piercing calls of loons, echoing at one another through the roiling mists on the lakes; as the Palazzo Ducale slowly came into view Lucrezia found the entire atmosphere both beautiful and haunting.

"The Palazzo is surrounded by three lakes, my Lady—we are passing between the middle and the lower; you shall have a better view from Castello di San Giorgio of the upper lake and the fourth—well, it's actually more of a swamp, the Pajolo—but combined they present a literal circle of defense against any mainland aggressors..." Ercole smiled at her.

"It is most breath-taking."

"You are going to love it, here, dear Lucrezia! I cannot wait for you to meet Isabella!" Ercole gave her hand a reassuring pat.

Somehow Lucrezia managed to keep a skeptical look from her face—at least, she hoped that she had; still Alfonso was silent, lost in his own thoughts and concerns which Lucrezia could not even begin to guess at. When the carriage came at last to its stop in the courtyard both men bounded out of it excitedly and then helped her out. When Lucrezia's feet touched the ground and she was safely afoot the two men turned away to see Isabella awaiting them; one look at their gazes upon her and Lucrezia felt quite effectively, and already, abandoned.

The Marquess and Marquessa approached them then, both done up in regal ermine-lined robes and colors of black and gold; Francesco was smiling, but Isabella had an unmistakable look of perturbance upon her own face.

"Happy greetings to you all!" Francesco stepped up to them first with a bow to the old Duke and Alfonso and then a kiss to the back of Lucrezia's hand. "Sister-in-law—it is my honor to meet you and introduce you to my own lovely wife—Lucrezia d'Este, please meet our Marquessa, Isabella Gonzaga..." Francesco took his wife's hand in his free one to usher his lady forth.

Both women curtsied at each other.

"You must pardon my ill humor, my Lady, for we have had a most unpleasant event unfold, I'm afraid..."

"Isabella, not now..." Francesco pleaded at her, a frown replacing his gregarious smile from before.

"No, it must be dealt with—the whole situation has ruined almost all of my plans," she snapped back him.

Francesco gave a heavy sigh. "Not all of your plans, my love, now really..."

"Sister, what is it?" Alfonso asked her then in great alarm.

"It is Bartolomeo Tromboncino, you see..." Francesco spoke up then, "...he has fled the city," he explained to them all. "Do calm yourself, Isabella; I doubt that he would venture to Milan at this time—I would hazard that he is either in Pavia or Vicenza, by now...although I cannot imagine what he has done that could be worse than murdering his wife..."

"What is this? He murdered his wife?" Lucrezia asked incredulously.

"Two years ago and he was pardoned," Isabella answered stiffly.

Lucrezia was more than taken aback at Isabella's defense of the man. "Pardoned? For murder?"

"He did catch his wife in the adulterous embrace of another man, my Lady..." Francesco said then.

"Oh! I remember her! Beautiful girl she was—younger than him, wasn't she?" Ercole asked.

"You are confusing her age with that of the boy she spoiled, father," came Isabella's angry reminder.

Ercole let out a hoot of scandalized laughter.

"Must we discuss this here, my love? I understand your upset, but you have called for Cardinal Bembo, after all—he shall be a fine substitute for our combative Maestro, yes? Have you no idea of what his trouble is now?"

"None, whatsoever," she informed her husband.

"Well, whatever it is I may not be able to pardon him again, my love—there have simply been too many incidents—he is by far the finest paid musician here; he's been given every liberty—to leave without permission and in such a manner—it can't be good."

"Oh? Incidents? What incidents?" Ercole asked, greatly intrigued and hungry for gossip.

"Father, really—the Marquess is right—let us find more private environs for such discourse?" Alfonso gave his father a little frown as he ushered him forward.

"Yes, do come in out of this cold, refreshments and a warm fire await you all," Isabella said then as she came back to herself and her duties as hostess; though still very obviously distracted by the antics of her most favorite courtier she managed a hint of a smile at Lucrezia then looked at her brother and gave a very definite and disgusted shake of her head at him before she led them all away to the Castello di San Giorgio proper.

As she followed her hosts Lucrezia's mind raced before her; she thought of the murderer, Tromboncino, whom she had met on her first visit to Ferrara, and shivered—that he could be pardoned for murder—he must have been much favored, indeed. She had read a few cases concerning just such a thing in her studies in Ferrarese law; she knew that in matters regarding infidelity the laws were quite gray—a man could, and usually did, receive a pardon in such cases, but it still incensed her. Men had affairs as a matter of course but if an angry wife committed the same crime for the same reason she would be put to death. There was no winning for a woman. But I killed my own husband...I am a murderess, myself...she thought back to Alfonso then, but he asked me to do it, he was in such horrible pain! she argued with herself. She had to dispel that memory, very much upset that it had been triggered at all.

Finally they were in the Great House and seated in the Morone room; illustrating the beginning of the Gonzaga seigniory, the room was dominated by a large canvas painted by the Veronese artist of the same name.

The servants came immediately then, bearing wine, fresh-baked breads and cheeses, and sweet treats. As Lucrezia settled herself she thought next of Isabella's disapproving look at Alfonso just moments before—was it about me or her Maestro? She does not like me, I'm sure of it...she did not answer my letters, after all. It was at that moment, preoccupied with her own thoughts and divorced from the animated conversation going on around her, that she became aware of Francesco's concentrated gaze upon her.

Bembo's description of the pair did not bear out her physical expectations of them at all: she had been expecting a handsome man, bored and dismissive of his plain, over-bearing yet accomplished wife. While Isabella was not strikingly beautiful, she was a very handsome woman, whose mature figure was still appealing even after four young children, one of which was a newborn. Francesco was an odd-looking man, fine of form, but short, with a pleasing enough countenance that was thrown off by his rather pop-eyed glare and slightly snubbed nose. He seemed most attentive to his wife and Lucrezia had sensed no rancor between them. But then she thought of herself and Alfonso, who presented to strangers, and even some family members, as if all was well between them.

As to Francesco's looks, Lucrezia knew that being handsome was not a prerequisite for any man, especially a Marquess who was one of the finest Knights in all of Italy, to enjoy the delights of beautiful women, proper ladies or otherwise; Bembo's intelligence bearing otherwise seemed very unlikely to her.

And Bembo—had he been summoned before he came to her, knowing full-well that he would be at court? Just when she thought that she could place even a modicum of trust in him, circumstances, yet again, had proven otherwise.

Lucrezia suddenly realized that Francesco's gaze was no longer one of innocent concern, which she could have allowed; it had turned to one even more piercing and quite brazen, with a very inappropriate little smile on his face at her, which she could not. A blush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks even as she shot a surreptitious look at Isabella to see if she had noticed anything untoward; she need not have feared, for Isabella, her brother and father were still caught up in intimate conversation amongst themselves, as if Lucrezia and Francesco were not in the room at all; when she looked furtively back at him she was surprised to find her own eyes becoming affixed to his, first in question, then in reluctant intrigue. In the split second before Isabella called out her husband's name he had broken his gaze away from Lucrezia and concentrated it, instead, on his little plate of candied eringoes.

"Francesco will you?"

"Will I what, my love?" He looked up from his plate with an innocent smile at his wife.

"Go and see if Bembo has yet arrived while I retire our guests to their rooms to prepare for dinner? I simply must know if tomorrow's performance is still in jeopardy or not."

"Yes, my love, gladly," he said as he rose from his seat.

"I know the lay of the land, eh? Francesco, would you kindly oblige my company?" It was Ercole who sprang up from his seat then; it was the perfect opportunity to cull the particulars of Tromboncino's exploits from his son-in-law and he meant to hear them.

"Of course, dear Duke..." Francesco gave a little bow at the three of them, then a knowing smile at his father-in-law before he led him away.

Lucrezia steeled herself then for the moment that she would find herself alone with her husband for the first time in weeks; she was so undone by the afternoon's events that she could not even concentrate, let alone enjoy, all of the beauteous art lining the corridors—a sumptuous labyrinth—leading to her accommodations.

"We have five hundred rooms here, my Lady, all of them in use..." Isabella informed her proudly, "and I have fixed one of the best in the castle for you and my dear brother..." she said as she squired them to the Northeast Tower.

Lucrezia only smiled her thanks as she passed by mirrored galleries and masterpieces painted by Raphael; magnificent tapestries; breath-taking frescoed ceilings and walls—she saw none of it as her husband walked silently beside her.

"I know it is much to take in—you shall have a proper tour in the coming days, my Lady—now...here you are—of course I have given you the Bridal Chamber..." Isabella smiled as she opened the doors proudly.

Lucrezia's eyes could not ignore the opulence she found herself surrounded by then and was speechless as she looked about in shocked amazement.

"This room used to belong to King Ludwig the Second—that was his own canopy bed there." Isabella was used to the awe that the room always inspired and it was like re-living the joy she had felt when she'd seen it herself for the very first time. "I shall see you both at dinner—Alfonso...Lucrezia..." and with that she left them.

Lucrezia did not know what to make of anything by that point. Was Isabella mocking her? If so, Alfonso was surely in on the joke, yet still he was humorless. Well, I suppose they will save their laughter for more private times. Does he have a favorite lady of the court awaiting his favor? Or a local whore, perhaps? Maybe he brought one along from Ferrara, encamped within our small retinue—he is a practical one. I hope that he did, for I have grown accustomed to my peace and would be happy to maintain it, she harrumphed silently to herself.

Alfonso was greatly enjoying his wife's obvious flustered state; to taunt her further he remained silent as he glared at her then went to the bed and bounded unceremoniously upon it; as he sat upon it, he made quite a show of plumping his pillows, then stacked them behind his back for support; finally settled in easy repose he looked back at Lucrezia as if he was waiting for her to join him.

She did not move.

He raised a hand at her and then gave two quick pats upon the mattress at her, as if he was signaling a trained dog to obey his silent command.

Lucrezia glowered at him then gave him her backside, seething with anger and insult, determined to remain as silent as her husband. Two can play this game, she declared vehemently within herself.

She whipped back around in challenge to face him only to find Alfonso lying on his side, turned away from her and snoring very lightly. Insulted anew and her ego curiously deflated just a little bit, she stifled the curse that had almost escaped her lips and comported herself; she found her feet moving in his direction independently of her own will as she tip-toed over to him then, just to see what he was about. Even though she did not truly believe that he had fallen into slumber so quickly and she didn't know what she would do with him either way, she found herself upon him and staring in silent question at him. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand...lift it to see if it was rigid or limp and found that the thought alone had set her own hand to action.

Without opening an eye, or even the flutter of an eyelash, Alfonso reached up and snatched her wrist within the strong grasp of his hand, startling Lucrezia badly enough that she let out a little shriek.

"This bed is expansive, my Lady," he began and then gave a loud, long, lazy yawn. "Keep to your own side and we shall be fine—come at me again..." he opened his eyes to look at her, "and I shall take it as a sure invitation." In his tone was both a promise and a threat.

Lucrezia let out an indignant gasp as Alfonso released her hand in rough dismissal; as tired as she was all she wanted was to get away from him. Not knowing where she might find refuge she left their room, slamming the door loudly behind her, exhausted, outdone, and trying desperately to choke back her angry tears and overwhelming frustration.