Posted 06/08/2014 approx 7:30 pm

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The Borgias S3E10

Pt. 50 What, Say You?


Lucrezia made her way through the loggia and found herself in a modest little garden off of the

Corte Vecchia; she took her seat wearily upon a cold marble bench and looked forlornly up at the dismal grey sky.

"Just a ray of sunlight, God...a single ray..." she whispered her wish softly up to Heaven.

"My Lady? Are you alright?"

It was Francesco Gonzaga standing under the arched entrance issuing a frown of concern at her.

"Oh...my Lord..." Badly startled, Lucrezia stood up from the bench, her first impulse being to excuse herself and take her leave—but to where? The thought of her sour husband sleeping peacefully in the bed, that she would have to share with him at some point, kept her rooted to her spot.

"No—do not get up if it is your wish to stay, my Lady...I only thought that you might be taking your rest now..."

So did I. "I find that, though I am a little tired, all of the beauty in this magnificent castle makes it impossible for me to settle myself, my Lord," she said out loud.

"Well, thank you, my Lady, however, your compliment both honors and distresses me—surely Alfonso—"

"Alfonso has been here many times and is able to sleep as one who is blessed to find respite in this home away from home; I look forward to the day where I may be blessed to feel the same, my Lord. At present I simply do not wish to disturb him with my incessant displays of vocal wonderment." Lucrezia gave him a small curtsy.

"You are too kind, dear Lucrezia—do take your seat, if that is your wish, and I should be happy to join you if you would allow?"

"Of course, my Lord..." Lucrezia took her seat again; Francesco joined her and sat a respectable distance away beside her.

"I'm sorry the day has not been more agreeable, but of course, this is our typical climate at this time of year," he apologized as he looked up at the sky.

"It has been a most beautiful day, my Lord."

"Well..." Francesco settled his gaze back upon her, "it must be for you to be sitting out here in this simple little garden under such a cloudy sky," he smiled at her. "Isabella has great plans for this space, but she has been too busy in her other duties to be able to spend any time on it yet."

"Well, I can surely understand—you've been graced with a newborn, I've been told."

"Yes—our lovely little Livia—Isabella is acquainting her to her grandfather at this very moment."

"Oh, how lovely..." Lucrezia gave a sincere smile as she thought first of Ercole and the joy he must have surely been experiencing, then of her own babies, whom she longed to hold in her arms again.

"She gave us a scare, that one—she was born two months prematurely, you see...but she is coming along quite nicely."

Lucrezia's smile turned to a look of alarm. "I shall keep her in my prayers, my Lord."

Francesco was very obviously touched by her concern and put a hand to his heart as he smiled warmly at her. "Why, thank you, my Lady, that would be most appreciated."

They shared a moment of awkward silence after they broke their gaze from upon one another and concentrated on the little stone water fountain bubbling its relaxing content at them.

"We are all so happy for—"

"Will Cardinal Bembo be able to—"

Both of them had spoken at the same time and chuckled lightly at each other in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, my Lord—please, go ahead?"

"No, no—ladies, first."

Lucrezia comported herself. "Oh...I was going to ask if the Marquessa will be able to find her happy remedy in Cardinal Bembo? In light of the trouble with your esteemed Tromboncino..."

"Why, yes, thank you. She met with him before she took the Duke off to meet Livia; yes, Bembo will save the days ahead, indeed."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"And I was just going to say that we—Isabella and I—are so happy for Alfonso and our dear Duke; that they have both found their happiness and a future Duchess of Ferrara in you, my Lady."

Lucrezia was unable to contain the questioning glance she shot at Francesco.

"What is it, my Lady? You have a look of doubt upon that beautiful face..."

Lucrezia blushed at the compliment but ventured on to explain herself. "Of course I do, Marquess—we have shared a most pleasant moment together, here, and I feel that I can be frank with you—I hope that you will not consider me to be too forward..."

"Not at all, I am honored that you are at ease enough with me that you are able to do so." His smile at her then seemed almost as a challenge; Lucrezia dared to turn to face him properly upon the bench to meet it.

"We all know that this marriage was not favored in the beginning by the Duke—or your wife. I am happy that he has come to a happier disposition where I am concerned—I hope that someday I may be blessed to be able to say the same of your wife, my Lord."

Francesco gave a little reprimanding nod at Lucrezia then, yet still held his very warm smile at her as he turned to face her. "You must understand something, dear Lucrezia..."

"Yes, I know—the rumors about me...my family..."

"Not just that—do understand that this family has been greatly aggrieved these past years, starting with the death of Duchess Eleanora; none of them have ever truly recovered from that, such a loving and magnificent woman she was. And last year was a terror: Lady Anna and her newborn died; in the same year my wife and family lost their beloved Beatrice, as well; those were very dark times for them all. And then Alfonso saw you in Rome and a spark of light came back into his eyes, even as he still mourned his Anna. It was a shock to Ercole and Isabella, of course; combined with the tales of your brother, and the political intrigues involving Rome and His Holiness—well, you can imagine..."

"Yes, I can. Alliances are never easy," Lucrezia declared simply.

"Oh, my Lady—this is no mere alliance—Alfonso fell very definitely in love with you...at first sight. It may have initially baffled and consternated my wife and father-in-law at the time, but Alfonso's happiness is everything to them and they found out, quickly, that his happiness was bound very tightly to his desire for yours."

Once upon a time, she thought bitterly to herself. Was this man telling the truth? Alfonso was most definitely not happy with her—was he putting on a facade, as this man presented? Or was the sister, at least, privy to the truth where Francesco was not? It was impossible for Lucrezia to take any real comfort in the man's words; and the history of the family's shared heartbreak, while enlightening, only served to make her own heart feel heavier for them, as well as herself.. "Yes, my Lord, the love of one's family is everything, is it not?"

"It is indeed, my Lady. And you are a part of our family now; you have won Alfonso's heart and now our dear Ercole—I promise you that my Isabella's will not be far behind."

"You are too kind, Marquess. I do hope that your words will bear fruit."

"I've no doubt, my Lady. Thank you for allowing this intrusion...I shall leave you to your solitude, but if I may dare?"

"Yes?" Lucrezia leveled a look of caution upon him.

Francesco laughed lightly through a small shake of his head. "I promise that, while my next request may seem impolitic, it is not meant to be so..."

"Yes?"

"Enjoy our little garden, and any other other part of the castle that you wish, as long as you like and however you will—but I hope that you will not deprive your husband much longer of your company, for I imagine that every moment away from you is a torture—it would certainly be so if you were my wife."

Ah...so there you are, finally, Marquess: a compliment and a touch of impropriety, all neatly rolled into one, she thought as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have offended you—"

"No, Marquess, you are correct—it is time for me to take my leave. Thank you, for permitting me your indulgence; I shall take your words to heart and look forward to spending more time with you—and especially, your wife. Good afternoon." Lucrezia rose up from the bench without ceremony and left him then; her first footsteps upon the marbled loggia floor as she made away from Francesco and back to the Bridal Chamber were bold and sure, and belied the dread that filled every bone in her body at the thought of returning to her combative husband.

When she entered the room she found Alfonso as she had left him, turned on his side away from her and sleeping soundly. She truly was tired and the huge bed looked so wonderfully inviting. She opted to remain fully clothed for her little nap—she would refresh herself properly—and privately—in the bathing room under the care of her ladies before the banquet dinner that was to be held in her and Alfonso's honor that evening; at that moment she just wanted to close her eyes and surrender to a dreamless sleep. Her gown rustled loudly as she got up on the bed and she felt Alfonso stir; she ignored him as she tried to settle herself comfortably, and turned on her side away from him; as she was about to close her eyes she heard and felt him awaken fully as he repositioned himself upon the bed; she knew that if she looked over her shoulder at the little gulf between them she would find his body, if not his eyes, facing her direction, for he had obviously turned over.

"Welcome back," Alfonso said then—there was no welcome in the tone of his voice at all.

Lucrezia gave a sigh as she opened her mouth to speak and was cut off before she could say a word.

"Be careful what you say, my Lady..." he warned her.

Really? Then I shall say nothing...she said to herself, as her mouth and her eyes snapped angrily shut.

When Lucrezia awakened several hours later she was alone on the bed; Alfonso's side was neatly remade and atop one of his pillows was a sealed parchment with her name on it; she thought it might be from him and almost determined that she would do no more with it than to chuck into the hearth in the bathing room, but as she snatched it up and gave a scornful closer look, she saw that the seal upon it was that of her father, His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sixtus. Just as she was about the rip the seal apart there was a knock on her door.

"My Lady, your bath is ready..." It was Lucia.

"Thank you, Lucia—I shall be along in a moment—" she called back to her as her eyes devoured her father's missive.


"I'm telling you that the time is now, brothers! If he can be fool enough to leave now—well, it is an invitation to take your lands back, is it not?" della Rovere implored the men before him.

It was a small but distinguished group assembled in Magione, the meeting called to order and coinciding on the eve of Cesare's departure from Piombino to Elba with his father, Pope Alexander.

"What does it say to you that King Louis has still not conferred more troops unto him? Hmm? Tell me!" he asked them all excitedly.

None in the group was as excited as he was; each man had something to lose, or had lost it all already and desired to reclaim it; the dour faces that looked upon him were Cesare's captains: Vitellozzo Vitelli, still very much on the fence where his desire to cross Cesare was concerned—even though he had lost his castle he still had lands in Bologna to defend; Gian Paolo Baglioni, who had lands in Perugia; Oliverotto da Fermo; and Pandolfo Petrucci, who was lord of Siena. Rounding out the hostile faces in the room were Gian Maria de Varano, who had just barely escaped the massacre upon his family in Camerino; Duke di Gravina Orsini; Giovanni Bentivogli; the Duke of Urbino; Antonio di Venafro; and Visconte Ugo di Cardona.

"Is not this current reversal of his policy enough for you? To inherit your lands? You know that he wants his banners alone draped over all of the Romagna—will you all just...lay down...and hand them over?" The Cardinal looked around the room at the forlorn men in disgust. "He is your common enemy, for the love of God! He and his wretched father, now and forever—you must strike!" della Rovere tried to incite them.

"Have you heard with your own ears, from the King's own lips, that troops are not forthcoming, Cardinal?" Visconte di Cardona asked him with a sneer.

"Well, no...not exactly—but look how much time has passed—it cannot be taken as anything other than a good sign."

"A 'good sign' is not confirmation, Cardinal..." Gian de Varano leveled at him.

"You hesitate because of the recent devastation inflicted upon your family, which is understandable, Gian—I for one am ready to fight to the death—I will take Fano—that is my promise to you all, whether I claim it for a day or the rest of my days—we can beat this Spanish scourge—I'm with the Cardinal," he proclaimed to them all.

"Yes, my Roman brothers! Come now—what better gift to present to the Borgia Bastard upon his return than the decimation of his scant broken lances? You best him now and King Louis will not be inclined to invest anything in him further—why, his sister's wedding—this delusional trip to Elba—that is not the act of a leader...a Lord—a Prince? A would-be-King? No, it is the action of a man far removed from reality, too full of himself because his heinous father happens to sit—for now—debasing the Papal Throne. We can do this!"

"We?" Gian Paolo Baglioni grimaced at him. "I don't recall ever seeing your arse astride a horse and charging into battle, Cardinal, ready to lay your very life on the line."

"Go easy, Baglioni—the Cardinal endeavors help bring about that which we all desire—to see Rome—the Vatican—in control again of good Romans," the Duke of Urbino interceded.

"So says you, nipote..." Baglioni sneered at the Duke through tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, my Lords, really..." Pandolfo Petrucci sighed tiredly at them all, "can we save our quarreling for when the Borgia menace is no more? It will be much more enjoyable then, yes?" His entreaty at them was the one the broke the ice, cooled their flaring tempers and caused all of the men to let out involuntary—and cathartic—light laughter.

"Vitellozzo? Have you nothing to say?" della Rovere asked him as their laughter subsided; Vitelli shot him an unappreciative look at being put so magnificently on the spot; della Rovere knew well that Vitelli actually feared Cesare and had not set a sure course in the campaign to go against him.

"Look, Cardinal, I want to be done with the Borgia's as much as we all do, but I am not convinced that this trip to Elba is as foolish a one as we all think—I believe he goes with the confidence that King Louis will honor that which was promised—I wouldn't like to see yet another massacre."

"Then what do you propose?" della Rovere yelled his angry exasperation at him.

"That we wait and find out for sure!" Vitelli yelled back. "We must know what we are truly up against!"

The other men in the room grumbled their arguments at each other even as the two men exploded before them.

"No—we take the chance..." Visconte di Cardona said quietly at them through the din. "What have you heard about the Germans, Cardinal? What is their number?"

"Only eight hundred or so, and even all of them are not committed anymore—to any fight. We can do this. What say you Sons of Rome? Does this really require a vote? Are we not ready to take back that which is rightfully ours? What say you?" della Rovere pleaded at them then.


"Well?"

"They will converge on Fossombrone tomorrow evening," the spy from the meeting reported to him.

Micheletto, back at camp in Imola, grunted his pleasure at the news. "Good. Was it unanimous?'

"I do not believe Vitellozzo Vitelli can be counted upon."

"Not surprising—not that it maters. Very good—let us go and prepare, hmm?"

"Yes, Captain."