"Elizabetta, would you join me?" Lucrezia Borgia asked from the bed where she lay among golden cushions. In her arms she held her son, Rodrigo, now a month old, as she waited for her father the Pope to arrive. Cesare, accompanied by Micheletto, had brought the Holy Father in disguise to Nepi as Lucrezia had requested and Betta could see from the heightened color of her Lady's cheeks and the pulse that thrummed in her neck that she was as filled with anxiety as Betta herself was.
The time since the birth of the twins had passed in a whirlwind of activity. Lucrezia had insisted that Betta must learn to read and write, and the hours that she spent closeted with a tutor had proved more taxing than the most arduous day of looking after her lady. Betta no longer served as Lucrezia's personal maid. She was now sequestered in a little used part of the castle with a wet-nurse and the tiny girl child that Lucrezia had born. A seamstress had been brought to provide Betta with garments that reflected her new station and she had been endlessly drilled on the intricacies of manners and genealogy.
Elizabetta stood by Lucrezia's side holding her sleeping daughter in a tastefully simple violet gown that brought out the roses in her cheeks and she knew that the Pope would see her as Lucrezia wished, a nobly born member of the household and not the serving girl he had attempted to fondle on more than one occasion. The Pope and Cesare were brought to the room as soon as they had refreshed themselves from the journey. Lucrezia lifted her arm as though to stroke her brother's face when he greeted her but stopped, drawing back with an unutterably sad expression on her face. Betta had not been present when Cesare had taken his leave of her but she could well imagine the pain that they both felt in the change of their relationship.
The pope had swept into the room behind Cesare, followed by Micheletto. When the assassin's eyes met hers she blushed, uncertain around him once more. Despite his simple monk's garb Alexander radiated the power and authority that could only come with serving as God's representative on Earth. Lucrezia held out the child in her arms for him to see.
"This is your grandson, whom I have named Rodrigo." Lucrezia had taken great pains to arrange this meeting to her advantage, and she used her beauty as a weapon. She looked like the Madonna with her son, no visible remnants of the struggle that had almost taken her life. She wore a simple sky blue robe and her hair fell in soft waves across her shoulders.
"Oh Lucrezia" the Holy Father crooned as he scooped the child into his arms "he is beautiful." Rodrigo Borgia stroked the child's downy head and murmured endearments to him.
"And this," Lucrezia said, motioning Betta forward "is Lucia, my daughter."
"What a surprise! Twins! My mother said that I myself had a twin but it did not survive long, God rest its soul. We must give thanks for this blessing."
The Pope prayed over the children, and some of his appeal was finally made manifest to Betta as she held the child to receive his blessing. In spite of his personal failings the charisma that emanated from the patriarch of the Borgia family made him a figure that was both compelling and attractive.
"When will you be returning to Rome?" The Pope asked and he spoke of the magnificent celebration he would hold to commemorate the baptism of his grandchildren. A chair had been placed next to the bed for him.
"I will return to Rome with Giovanni and Rodrigo as soon as I am able to travel."
"And Lucia?"
"I have made other arrangements for her." Lucrezia said.
Lucrezia had outlined her plan to Betta as she lay in the beginning stages of labor. Should the child be born a girl Betta and Micheletto were to marry, take the child and journey north to the town of Grosseto, an area of little strategic importance under the control of Sienna that was dependent on the local fishing trade. Her man of business, Vincenzo Giordano, had purchased a villa that overlooked the rocky coast and a substantial amount of money had been left with the Spannochi bankers as a dowry.
"Lucia is to be raised far from our family, fostered and known as the child of another until she reaches womanhood. I have purchased a small estate where she shall live and with Cesare's help I have settled a dowry on her that will allow her to marry as she might wish."
The Pope was speechless with shock. "This is preposterous. I shall not allow it. My granddaughter raised like the offspring of some misbegotten farmer when she could be a princess or a duchess."
"Or she could be bartered off to a vile creature that will rape her nightly as I was." Lucrezia's voice was inflexible. "Rodrigo will be Cesare's heir. His wife has lately given birth to a daughter and he has sworn to beget no more children upon her that could supplant him in succession. My daughter will be raised apart from our family and when she reaches her menarche she will be given the choice to enter our world."
"This is utterly absurd. What of the father of these children?" The Pope blustered. "Has he agreed to this idiotic plan? You would pass this boy off as Alfonso's and yet deny your daughter the status and privileges that would be hers by right?"
"I am the father." Cesare told the pope, who flinched back as though struck and covered his face with his hands. "I have agreed to this because it is Lucrezia's price for my.."He searched around for words and Betta knew what he would have said. Her price for my absence, for ending our relationship. "for my actions."
Rodrigo Borgia looked at his daughter, golden haired and lovely, and his tall handsome son garbed in black and the Pope who had always prided himself on the ability to look into the hearts of man saw, for the first time, the ties that bound them together. Had they always moved as though dancing, he wondered? Movements echoed by the other, eyes seeing others only as if they existed on the periphery? The veil had been removed and so many things made more sense. Cesare's disapproval of her marriages, his rage filled murder of Giovanni Sforza and Lucrezia's inability to find happiness in the arms of another. He must have been blind to have missed it, the thing that was between them was so obvious. There was genuine grief upon his face and the pope looked close to tears. "How could you have done this? She is your sister, Cesare"
Cesare snorted wryly. Lucrezia looked at the one who was once her lover and was now forever lost to her with love and sadness warring for dominance on her face. The events of past weeks had stripped the last vestiges of her girlhood away, leaving in its place a woman more than capable of holding her own with a prince of the church. She had a new gravity in her bearing and the sadness that had sometimes overtaken her had taken up permanent residence upon her features.
"I seduced him, Father."
"You could not have known what you were doing." He insisted, waving the words away as he focused disapproval upon his wayward son.
Lucrezia made her words deliberately crude.."I climbed onto his cock the night of my last wedding, after my coward of a husband left and by the time I was done we could barely walk. I knew exactly what I was doing."
Rodrigo's voice trembled. "Incest is a damnable sin, and to think that my own children have done something so repugnant in the eyes of God..." He covered his eyes with a hand.
"Not incest Father. Love." Betta watched Cesare as Lucrezia spoke these words. After their stilted greeting Cesare had sat upon the bed, holding Lucrezia's slippered foot as though he needed the contact but not trusting himself with anything more intimate. His eyes closed at her words, and a flicker of pain passed over his face before he could control it. "I love him more than I love myself, as he loves me. What did you think you were creating in us, Holy Father? We are the product of your greed and lust and ambition. Are you at all surprised that the only one I could truly love would be a Borgia?" Lucrezia's tone softened and she got out of her bed and knelt at her father's feet. "My son will be your prince, born through the grace of God so that no one could reasonably doubt his legitimacy. But my daughter will be given the choices that I never was. Her maidenhead will not be sacrificed upon the alter of our ambition. And if you assist me in this I will give you what you most need in return."
"And that would be?"
"I will agree to whatever splendid match you and Cesare can devise to the benefit of our family. Cesare's favor with the king of France might enable a match with even so great a family as the Este. I will conduct myself as a model of decorum and I will bring credit and honor to the name of Borgia. To insure this you have only to agree and prepare the documents naming her as the natural daughter of Cesare and an unnamed noblewoman of Rome, which will be kept in readiness."
"But why, Lucrezia?" The Pope pleaded. "Has your life been so terrible that you would deny us a beloved granddaughter? Do you truly hate me this much?"
Lucrezia Borgia smiled and touched his face fondly. "I love you, my Papa, most Holy Father, but I am giving my daughter a precious gift. She will have control over her own life."
"Who is she to be fostered with? Can you be certain that she will be reared and protected as befits her rank?" A hint of craftiness had entered his expression.
"That need not concern you, Holy Father." Cesare answered. "But you should have no fears for her. She will be well looked after by ones whom I trust without reservation." He rose from the bed and took Lucia again in his arms, winking at Betta as he pressed a kiss to his daughter's cheek. "Should you refuse, Lucrezia and I will live openly together and I will acknowledge the children as my own." A bluff, Betta knew, but even the threat was enough to make the decision more palatable.
The pope sagged into a chair and nodded as though the weight of the world had descended upon his shoulders. "If this is truly your wish I will not stand in your way. Perhaps through this child we may all be redeemed. But," he added quickly "do not tell your mother. You know how courtesans like to gossip."
The Pope left after affixing his seal upon the documents naming Lucia's parentage. Betta and Micheletto were married the same afternoon, Cesare and Lucrezia acting as the sole witnesses. Betta could not remember afterward the words said to join them together as husband and wife. All that she could see was his face, filling her vision, and how handsome he looked in his dark clothing, red hair brilliant as fire against the back light of the candles. One of Lucrezia's gowns had been altered to serve as her wedding dress. A dark blue velvet ornamented with gold embroidery on the slashed sleeves, it was finer than anything Betta could have imagined wearing and she knew that for this night at least she was the loveliest person in the room. Micheletto's mouth curved into a quick smile when he saw her and Betta knew that he found her beautiful, too.
A table had been set for the bridal feast only large enough for the four of them. They were served roasted pheasant and dainty sweetmeats by one of the elderly retainers that had come with the castle. Lucrezia forced herself into gaiety for the night, laughing and chattering, and her eyes sparkled as she served wine and proposed a toast.
"To our famiglia."
There was a room prepared for them in the castle, far grander than the one Betta had previously occupied, suitable for a visiting lord. Cesare escorted them to the chamber where they would sleep for a single night before they began the journey on the morrow.
"You will care tenderly for my daughter?" Lord Cesare asked when they had reached the door.
"I swear that no harm shall come to her." Micheletto said.
"My friend." Cesare grasped Micheletto's forearms in his hands and pulled him into an embrace. No more words passed between them but Betta thought that any breach created by the betrayal of Micheletto's lover had been healed and they stood as brothers in arms once more. Cesare looked at Betta and smiled. "Beautiful Elizabetta." He bent and kissed her, not on the cheek as she would have thought but on the mouth, a lingering, sweet kiss. His lips were faintly rough and tasted of salt and wine, and the fragrance of him enveloped her in warmth. When he drew back she could see that he had held her new husband's eyes throughout, and Micheletto's hands were clenched into fists but he looked far from angry when he watched Cesare disappear down the corridor.
The chamber was very quiet after the activity and bustle of the day, and the silence stretched.
"Micheletto." She hesitated, shy and uncertain before him in the light of the flickering candle. "I did not plan or suggest this to Lady Lucrezia. I would never have trapped you in a marriage that was against your will."
Micheletto came up behind her and untied the frivolous little veil of lace that Lucrezia had insisted she wear. He pulled the pins that bound her hair one by one, sifting through the strands until it hung like a shining dark curtain to her waist. He unlaced her gown slowly, and when she stood naked before him he took a second to admire the beauty of her form, displayed for the first time to his eyes. He traced a line with his finger from her collarbone, down over the curve of her breasts and stomach, and cupped her hips in his hands. He brought her against him, and through the layers of clothing she could feel his desire.
"What a terrible fate has befallen me." He rasped in her ear. "A lovely wife, property, and the care of a child who will be as my own." He picked her up and carried her to the bed, pausing to remove his own garments before joining her. "I have killed for less." Micheletto tried to quell the things that were inside of him, and treat her gently as befitted his new bride but she did not want his restraint. She needed the strength and harshness of him, the barely restrained ferocity of his embrace that made her feel safer then she had ever been in her entire life.