Betta could feel death approaching that night. Violence had scented the air like incense since Lord Cesare had returned victorious with the Tiger of Forli in chains and Betta knew that the plan to free Lucrezia Borgia from her husband would soon be put into motion.
The entire household could feel it in the air. Lady Lucrezia cried in her rooms deep into the night and ignored Papal guards who brought messages and gifts from her Holy Father. Giovanni, normally a sweet natured child, cried at the slightest provocation until all of their nerves were frayed from lack of sleep. The servants scurried around like mice at their duties, afraid to make a noise or cause a disturbance. Betta made sure that when she saw Lord Cesare and an unknown man approaching that she hastily sent Bernardino into another part of the city to find his rest. Only the master of the house seemed oblivious to the coming storm as he celebrated his impeding freedom from the guards who watched his every movement.
The events of that night unfolded like a mummers play before her eyes as she watched from the stairs that overlooked the balcony. The fight, the thrust of a sword in the dark, and the shrill screams of the Prince as he lay dying. A physician was sent for but Betta could see from the wound that pierced the prince's back that it was fruitless. Alfonso begged his wife between bouts of screaming and cursing to spare him the pain he had brought by attacking first his wife and then Cesare Borgia.
Betta remained in the shattered room when her lady returned with a small vial. She supported the Prince's head as he eagerly drank from the golden goblet which would end both his life and his pain. Betta watched Lucrezia carefully, ready to strike the cup from her hands should she show any signs of trying to follow her husband in death but the lady only wept, tears tracking ceaselessly down cheeks that were smeared with blood. Lucrezia kissed him and laid her head next to her husband as he slipped from life. They lay like carved effigies side by side, and Betta thought that this was how they would have looked had they spent their lives together and been interred at some church in Salerno or Naples. Carved effigies of a handsome Prince and his beautiful, noble wife that could have provided some comfort to grieving children and grandchildren.
Lord Cesare found them thus, and it seemed that he too thought that Lady Lucrezia might have ended her anguish with a desperate act for he threw himself across the bed and took his sister into his arms. Betta could not hear the words that passed between them but Lord Cesare's eyes found hers across the chamber and he asked that warm water and a cloth be brought. She brought them and then slipped back into the shadows from which he had called her. He seemed to forget her existence as he tended to Lucrezia. He cleansed her, wiping the stains of blood and sin from her flesh and whispering words in her ear that brought her back to life. The word "mine" filled the silence like a shout, and his dark head leaned forward to take her lips in a kiss that was as gentle as the touch of the sun in the springtime. His lips followed the path of the cloth, marking and claiming the white skin until Lucrezia moved like water under his hands. Cesare untied the cord that held her heavy robe together and loosed the neckline of her shift. He trailed the cloth down over her shoulders, to the swell of her breasts, and then down to her arms and hands. Lucrezia's eyes were on him now, watching the movements of his hands upon her skin until he threw the bloodied rag aside and brought her lips to his mouth. Lucrezia's hands fisted in the dark curls of his hair as he kissed her, and her eyes flashed like jewels when he left her mouth and began pressing hungry, open mouthed kisses down the length of her throat. Lord Cesare pulled back from her minutely to rise from the bed. He effortlessly swept her into his arms and strode from the room into the adjoining chamber. The heavy door closed with the weight of two bodies pressing into it and crashed into the frame as they came together again and again.
Betta wondered if her eyes glittered like theirs had, for blood fired in her veins as she listened to the muffled shouts of pleasure that emanated from beyond. She went to the window and opened it, letting the cool night breeze fan across her flushed cheeks and dispel the lingering miasma of death and blood that filled the room. There was a slight movement in the street and Betta saw that Micheletto had emerged from the shadows and was watching her, as she had known he must be.
He was not the only ghost this night, she thought, drifting down the stairs like an unhoused spirit until she stood in front of the assassin and drew him deeper into the alley and whispered into his ear the events of that night. The heated images would not leave her mind and her breathe came shallow and rapid as she recounted the fight and the death, and how Lord Cesare had removed Lady Lucrezia's bloodstained clothing and then carried her to the next room. Micheletto's expression did not change but Betta recognized the fire that kindled in his eyes for it was burning though her as well. She wanted nothing so much as to sink her fingers into his flesh and take him as he had taken her only a few nights before. Micheletto picked her up and pressed her against the wall and she could feel the texture of the ancient stone at her back and his teeth biting into the skin of neck. She had to stifle a scream as her body seized in pleasure when he roughly came inside of her.
Micheletto rested his forehead against hers as their breathing slowed and the tremors of shared passion dissipated. "What is it about you that chains me to life when I want nothing so much as to sink into the abyss?"
Betta brought her hand up to caress his cheek. "I know not, but I am glad for it." She bid the assassin farewell and returned to the palace where she tried to repair some of the damage that had been wrought that night. Lord Cesare sought her out as she washed splatters of blood from the marble staircase. He took in her still flushed face and the hair that had come unbound and streamed down her back. His nostrils twitched like a hound scenting prey and he smiled. "Micheletto still watches over us, I see."
"From the shadows, my lord, for now at least."
Cesare's hand patted her shoulder. "I will take Lucrezia and Giovanni to the Vatican and send people to prepare the body in the morning. If you would, watch over it until then."
"Yes, my lord." Betta said. The rest of the servants had been sent away earlier that night except for herself and Alfonso's manservant, who had arrived recently from Naples. Betta disliked the little rat faced man intensely, for he was both cowardly and stupid. Jacobo had brought the Prince bottle after bottle of wine during his confinement, never bothering to dilute it with water, or even attempt to urge the Prince towards moderation. She found him cowering in the servants quarters and brought him into the room where the Prince lay. Together they removed his bloodstained garments and readied the body for the grave.
The Prince was so small and looked so innocent in death that Betta felt a rush of pity for the boy who had been utterly destroyed. She whispered a prayer for his soul as they washed the blood from his body. Betta moved through the room gathering the remnants of the fight to save the Prince's life and threw them in the fire as Jacobo dressed the body in a fresh doublet and hose.
"I will go to the King... and tell him what happened. Oh, he will not be best pleased by what happened to his cousin, no no no." Jacobo mumbled to himself, seeming oblivious to her presence.
"Tell him what exactly? " Betta asked softly, continuing to dispose of the bloody bandages that littered the room.
Jacobo glanced at her and smiled maliciously. Like his master Jacobo had never bothered to learn who served Lady Lucrezia or how long they had been attached to the Borgia family. "Why that the Prince was killed by that Borgia bitch and her brother. A nice fat reward will come to me I should think." He turned around again and bent to his task.
The knife was in her hand and sliding between the bony ridges of the man's neck before he had time to draw another breath. He crumpled over the Prince and Betta used rags stained with royal blood to staunch the trickle that seeped from the small, neat wound. Death did not wait long to claim him and Betta went to the window and signalled to Micheletto, who nodded with approval when he saw the elegant cut. Together they removed the body from the palace before the sun could hint at the approaching dawn and draped him over the back of a horse that would carry it to the banks of the Tiber. It was only after the assassin had left that Betta realized she had killed for the first time, and with no more difficulty than cutting the head off a chicken. Suddenly cold, Betta rubbed her arms briskly before returning to the palace and her vigil at the dead man's side.