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The Borgias S3E10
A Home At The End Of The World
Ch 3 Our Borgia Blood
The process of settling accounts, packing their belongings, securing passage, and seeing to the disposition of their hands took the "family Ramirez" almost another month to finalize. The few Taíno hands they had taken on had easily, and quite expectedly, declined their interest in relocating with either Cesare or Diego, for Santo Domingo was the land of their ancestors, no matter what King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella had decreed, and for better or worse it was the soil that they would die upon. Their remaining African hands, already treacherously separated from their own immediate families, eagerly accepted the offer of their kind masters to follow them further away to yet another unknown land.
Diego had mates secured for his own ship and, with the aid of the Harbourmaster, helped Cesare and Micheletto vet and secure the necessary hands needed to sail their own newly acquired caravel, christened as the Novo Mundo.
When asked by Diego why Cesare had chosen the Portuguese spelling instead of the Spanish in naming his ship, Cesare replied, "Because I am beholden to no country, yet I wish to honor these new environs that now encompass my home and the greatest hopes for both of our families, Diego."
It was a week before the men were to set sail away from each other and the occasion of their conversation was a night at the local tavern, away from the women, to discuss the final particulars of that forthcoming event and Diego realized that Cesare's statement of goodwill was as close to an apology that he was ever going to give. The two men locked eyes upon each other in full recognition of that fact and then toasted each other with a loud clank of their tankards of ale.
"Ah...a game of Frussi has broken out in the corner there..." Micheletto motioned with the tip of his walking cane at a lively group in a corner near the back of the tavern. He gave a stiff nod at both men as he rose up and then left them to speak alone.
"Novo Mundo, huh? You would honor these new environs more if you used the Arawak, eh?"
"And it is a word that I know in Arawak, Diego, thanks to Yuisa, our maidservant; but such a word would only cause the Spanish to destroy my new ship, rather than welcome it in any of their ports, hmm? The Portuguese was a happy medium. Or would you welcome the idea of Spanish cannon upon her, Diego?" Cesare smirked at the man.
"No—and well done, then, Cesare," Diego smiled back at him. "Lessons in Arawak with Yuisa? What on God's Earth caused that to come about?"
"The need to prevent your ire, Diego, by occupying myself away from your wife," Cesare smiled broadly back at him. "Lucrezia and I both were eagerly apprised of the Taíno culture...and the treatment of them by Ovando—what he did to their Chieftess, Anacaona...and so many others—he is a monster."
"They said the same of you, back in Italy."
"And I was—to my more than deserving enemies—but, contrary to popular belief at the time, it was never my goal to rule the world, Diego; it was certainly not my intent, either, to subjugate good citizens or enslave people. Italy never embraced my father, or me; judging by this first-hand view of administration by Ovando for his beloved King and Queen, I understand, much better now, the Italian...discontent...with Spain. Too bad for Italy, I say, for my father was not the Spanish Beast that he was declared to be; he was no perfect man, but he was as perfectly Roman as his contemporaries."
Diego held up his tankard again. "To Pope Alexander Sixtus—may he rest in peace." With that touching and sincere gesture Diego had offered his own unspoken apology, which was not at all lost upon Cesare, and the truce between them was firmly cemented when their two tankards met again. It was also not lost upon Cesare that Diego's extreme goodwill stemmed from the fact that he was looking forward to a happy future where his wife and Cesare would be separated from each other; no matter the man's honest intent, the words that came out Diego's mouth next were a true, and comical, surprise.
"You won't rethink Jamaica, Cesare? It may be wild but Tortuga is quite remote—it will be quite an adjustment, even from this place, for you and Lucrezia both."
Shall I call you Alfonso d'Este, now? It is the ale, of course. Cesare was thinking of the few stories he'd gotten out of his sister regarding her third husband's fickle heart, and his jealousy, which always abated when Cesare was away from her, and even moreso when Cesare appeared to be nearing his final demise. You actually believe those words, Diego, but I know better.
"Rethinking it, then?" Diego asked through his raised and hopeful eyebrows, as it appeared to him that Cesare was seriously pondering the idea.
"It is kind of you to ask, Diego, but I am settled on Tortuga," Cesare said firmly as he reached across the table and gave a friendly pat to Diego's shoulder.
"Dorotea is still upset with me..."
"And Lucrezia, with me."
"You must come and visit us, Cesare; we must arrange for the women to see each other, whenever it is possible..." The third tankard of strong ale the Diego had just finished made his words quite sluggish and comically deliberate against his uncooperative tongue; even so, he held it up high and waved it at the barmaid for a refill.
"We will do that, Diego, and you must know that our door will ever be open to welcome you all, as well."
"I tell you, Cesare, I have heard things about the farther reaches...I have friends that sailed with Colombo to Venezuela...Heaven on Earth, he called it, and the 'Land of Grace'...my friends had fantastic stories to tell of its beauty...I would like to see it with my own eyes before I die..."
Cesare wondered if Dorotea knew of his desires but said nothing as Diego leaned back upon the wall behind their table and settled in to enjoy his freshly-poured ale.
"Will you go to Ovando's ball at week's end, Cesare? He desires to say his farewell to us, as he often does when he hears that colonists have made plans to leave."
"Really? I think not."
"Why not? He knows not who you are."
"Other dignitaries will be attending this ball, as I understand it, from as far as England, I've heard; Surely an Italian or two will be in attendance, hmm? I might be recognized. I'd rather not chance that."
"Well, surely Micheletto—"
"It has been easy to maintain our ruse so far away from our neighbors, Diego, but for Micheletto to attend and try and pass himself off as your Spanish brother—that would be quite the stretch, don't you agree?''
Diego gave an agreeable nod of his head. "But I have met him once before...he knows me to have brothers..."
"And your brothers, unfortunately, will be ill," Cesare raised a conspiratorial eyebrow at Diego along with his tankard before he took a satisfying slug of ale, "...on that most auspicious evening." he finished his sentence with a smile, his eyes boring into Diego's as he set down his drink.
Cesare and Lucrezia had left all of the major socializing with the other colonists up to Diego and Dorotea; Lucrezia had always been happy to remain behind with the children, and Cesare, with her; Micheletto attended in secret to keep abreast of any news or gossip, which such events were rife with.
"Understood, Cesare, you've never been one for pomp and circumstance, if I recall correctly."
"That, you do, Diego. It is late; we've had a busy day—it may be safe to return home now, hmm?"
Diego let out a hearty bellow. "Ha! Maybe for you, Cesare, but Dorotea continues to greet all of my sincerest attempts at conversation with a complete and stony silence."
"One last drink, then, and we shall go home to face them, together, yes?"
Cesare did not want another drink, he wanted to go home to Lucrezia; he would have been happy to leave the man to drink himself into a complete stupor, but he knew that Diego's well-intentioned good-will was fragile, and prone to evaporate as soon as he was sobered-up; one more drink and he would have to be carried home, anyway, but to head home to the women without Diego being able to bear secure witness to the fact that they had done so together was an unwise course; and so, Cesare continued to nurse his lonely, not even half-finished ale as Diego began his fifth. He gave a quick glance at Micheletto, who had been observing them throughout his lively game, where he and his partner were winning; Micheletto gave him a nod, then turned his attention back to the table and finished out the round.
"Micheletto! Join us for a drink..." Diego slurred at him when Micheletto came to their table a few moments later.
"We're going home, Diego, remember?" Cesare said to the inebriated man as he stood up.
"Oh...yes..."
Cesare took one arm and Micheletto the other as they pulled Diego to standing and helped him out of the tavern.
Their last month together, for Lucrezia and Dorotea, had been a brave exercise in staving off ever-threatening tears and their profound sorrow at soon parting ways. It had been their task to see to the disposition of the household servants and field hands. Their Taíno hands had been easy to converse with, especially with the aid of Yuisa, their lovely, young maidservant, and they would all be staying behind, recommended to the plantation of a family Dorotea had gotten to know well-enough to see that they were not the harshest of slave owners.
The Africans had been harder to converse with as they knew no Italian or Spanish; when Lucrezia's meaning was finally conveyed however, so to was their desire to leave Santo Domingo and go with their masters. There were some fifteen men and women and they had all come from a place called Mauritania, although none of them appeared to be related to each other; Lucrezia had found out that tidbit from Cesare, who hadn't said much else about the disagreeable process after he'd come back with Diego from buying them at market.
They had both depended on two in particular, a young man named "Jose" on the bill of sale, and a matronly woman named "Therese"; Lucrezia had taken it upon herself to ascertain if those were their real names, and of course, they were not. Determined to show them all that they were respected as fellow human beings, Lucrezia insisted on learning their given names, in their own language, just as she had done with their Taíno workers. "Jose" was actually Idrissa and "Therese" was actually Fati Ba; they had proven instrumental in helping her to communicate with the others, and they all appeared to greatly appreciate being known by their true names, as well as being shown genuine good will and fair treatment by their owners.
With so many hands to assist with their scant packing of belongings Lucrezia and Dorotea had much free time to be with each other. While their men handled business in town the day soon turned to evening; with the children put down in the nursery the women stole away to Dorotea's bedroom to have a little wine and conversation. Lazing comfortably on Dorotea's sumptuous cherrywood four-poster bed, the women sat shoulder-to-shoulder beside each other, sipping wine.
"Can you imagine such a thing? Being taken away from everything you've ever known, and in chains, no less?" Lucrezia shuddered visibly at the thought of her question to Dorotea.
"I cannot, my love. But what a blessing for them that fate has brought them under your kind concern."
"At least we left our former lives willingly...but...do you miss Italy, Dorotea? Any aspect, at all, of your life before?"
"Oh, Lucrezia...are you worried for me, still?"
"I am worried for us, both, Dorotea."
"No, my love; even with ever more unknown looming before us all, no—I miss nothing of Italy. But I had not your family, my love; my mother died when I was very young; and my father had no interest in me until I was marriageable; you know that my life in Venice was no life for me at all; I am happy to go with my Diego wherever he desires to take us, truly I am, Lucrezia, and I have no fear, as long as he is with me and our Maria."
"But the air here has been heavy with displeasure between you both, ever since that dreadful night—"
"I am sad to leave you, my love, and he understands that; he has been wise to let me fume and go about my way without further upsetting me—I shall not make him suffer much longer, I promise."
The women smiled at each other, but Dorotea noticed the strain at the corner of Lucrezia's mouth which barely helped to hold hers.
"Lucrezia, what is it?"
For the second time Lucrezia struggled with the decision to confide in her friend over the growing angst that she was feeling regarding Cesare revelation about his relationship with Micheletto, and his libertine proposal which followed thereafter; she had no idea what sort of counsel Dorotea might offer, or if she would be able to offer any at all; more than anything it was her pride that held her tongue still, for Dorotea was going off to her life with her man, and certainly thought that Lucrezia was doing the same; yet Cesare's newest desire was still a betrayal and a crushing blow to Lucrezia's own heart and ego—but she wanted no one's pity.
"Lucrezia?"
The alarm in Dorotea's voice brought Lucrezia out of her own head and back to the present with her friend; the need to unburden herself won out over her pride, then, which had begged for her to endure her shame in continued privacy.
"Cesare loves Micheletto," Lucrezia blurted out awkwardly.
"Well, of course he does, my love, they are as brothers, after all of this time..."
"No...not as a brother...not anymore."
"What are you saying?"
"You do know that Micheletto...loves men...has relations—carnal relations—with men...yes?"
"I...no, my love, I have never known any such personal information about him..."
"He kept it a secret, even from Cesare, for many years...necessary, I suppose, on general principle, for his own safety, of course."
Dorotea sat up and set her goblet of wine upon the table next to her bed; she turned back to her friend and held out her hand in silent demand for Lucrezia's.
"No—the only way I can go on is to empty this cup, and soon."
"Lucrezia, I need you sober for this narrative..."
"And I assure you that I will not get through it without another bottle at the ready, Dorotea, for this goblet alone is not enough." To prove her point Lucrezia downed the remaining libation in one unladylike gulp.
"Lucrezia!"
"My heart has been over-burdened all of this time, Dorotea; ever since Micheletto returned to us, which was the occasion of Cesare's revelation to me. I know that Rome was full of sodomites, none that I ever met—knowingly, anyway. I remember the awful time my father had with Savonarola; Cesare's trials with him—his awful end; I also remember my father joking that had the heretic's edicts been met then half of the cardinals in the Vatican would have been burned at the stake.
"And yet I never gave much thought to such things, one way or the other...I had so many of my problems to keep me occupied. And now, after everything I have been through...that Cesare has been through—he tells me that he is in love with a man! A man, Dorotea, as well as myself! A man that had been entrusted in the past with guarding the lives of my family! And still does so to this day. A man that I love as a brother, and who I thought loved me as a sister...but, according to Cesare, would love me more than even that—and with Cesare's blessing."
Dorotea's mouth hung open, unable to form words, and her only response came at Lucrezia, then, in the unbelieving and slow shake of her head. "I...cannot believe such a thing...I have heard of men in battle, who look to one another for temporary...relief...during times of war—"
"Men with such existing propensities, certainly?" Lucrezia interrupted her, more than scandalized.
"No, not necessarily; Giovanni used to tell me of such accounts, for he was a man who found great entertainment in gossip, especially of the carnal nature and he often summed it all up by saying, 'Dorotea, war often makes good men do strange things'. Dorotea's words were accompanied by an comical impression of her first husband, with her chest poked-out and her cheeks puffed-up with air, her voice low and condescending. "His accounts were a bit too detailed for me, Lucrezia, to the point where I wondered if they were merely anecdotes—or actual remembrances," she finished with a disgusted shrug. "He was that type, to hide his own behavior behind stories of others, and he enjoyed talking about the salacious exploits of whores much too much, I always found. But, I digress; your Cesare has never been one to find himself at a loss for female companionship—no matter where he happened to be, my love."
"And this I know, Dorotea, and have always known; yet, from his own lips he told me that he loves Micheletto; desires him, as he desires me. Equally."
"Equally? He...wants you...both?"
"And would share me...share himself...share our love...our bodies—"
"No..."
"Yes."
Dorotea took back both her goblet and bottle of wine then poured them both fresh drinks as Lucrezia recounted the events of the night of Micheletto's arrival.
"What's this?"
It was Diego who had spoken out, but none of the men standing in the open doorway had expected to find the vision before them.
Dorotea had taken to sleeping happily on a little cot in the nursery since the spat with her Diego had commenced; and she had already determined that was the night when she would grant him his reprieve and punish him no longer with the lack of her affection. She had planned to be waiting for him alone, but Lucrezia's revelation had carried their conversation far away from any regard for the sense of time.
And so there they were, reclined upon the bed, Lucrezia resting against her friend's bosom and the comfort of her embrace, talking quietly and quite seriously; two ethereal beauties in their simple, virginal white chemises, which highlighted, almost sinfully, the stark contrast between their modesty and the all-encompassing allure of their curvaceous bodies; Dorotea, with her lush, loose locks tumbling down her shoulders and bleeding into Lucrezia's; a stunning titian-haired goddess and a golden-haired angel surely descended from nowhere other than the heavens; so serene and not startled one bit by the three men that had come bursting into the room.
Speechless, the men were, and greatly affected. Diego, hoisted to standing on his drunken legs by Cesare on one side of him and Micheletto on the other, knew that Dorotea's presence in their bedroom was a positive sign of her much-needed forgiveness as his eyes cleared and found hers, unable to break his gaze; Cesare's eyes were riveted upon the pair of them, wishing that he had talent with a paint brush and canvas, for he felt that the moment should have been captured for posterity and given as a gift to humanity; only Micheletto looked away, although the slow tilt of his head as he cast his gaze upon his boot tips felt like more of a regret than a respectful show of propriety.
Diego struggled visibly to fix his besotted lips in order to address his woman properly. "Dorotea, my love," enunciated slowly, "you have forgiven me...for my loutishness?" he asked carefully.
"I have, my love. Come to me."
Lucrezia sat up, gave her friend a smile and a kiss on both cheeks, then got up from the bed as Cesare and Micheletto helped Diego to take her place upon it; she looked at neither of them as she headed for the door.
"I'm so sorry my love, to come to you this way."
"You have a lifetime to make it up to me, Diego."
"But I want to make it up to you tonight..." he complained against himself, sorry that he had drunk himself to uselessness.
"Lay yourself down now, my love, and sleep."
"No sleep—you must let me hold you, at least," Diego pleaded.
"Lucky for you that you are so handsome, Diego, and that I find such a prospect, even in your current state, desirable at all."
Just then they all heard the sound of a crying babe come from the nursery.
"Oh—Dorotea—I will get her..." Lucrezia whispered at her friend, "Maria and I will have a lovely time.." She blew her a kiss from the door and left.
"All is well here, then?" Cesare smiled down at the two upon the bed.
"All is well here, Cesare," Dorotea mouthed to him as her husband took appreciative hold of her, so lost in the feel of her and his desire that he did not even hear Cesare.
"Will you stay and watch? Out of here, already," Micheletto grumbled as he pulled his amused friend by the arm and led him out of the room.
"Lucrezia..."
Cesare's quiet call from the doorway behind her was a question full of his concern and love; it sent a shiver through her heart that traveled through every nerve in her body, and made her very legs go weak at the knees as her nether region awoke from its long, lonely slumber. How does he do that, with his voice alone? Make me go wet and out of my mind with desire? "Shh...I'm just getting this precious one back to sleep," she managed as she rocked the babe in her arms gently.
Cesare said nothing as Lucrezia settled the child further into sleep and then back into her crib; Lucrezia stood a long while with her back to him, knowing that he wanted to talk to her and dreading what he wanted to talk about; Cesare only waited, patiently, for he knew better than to try any other tactic with her. Finally, she turned away from the crib and went next to Rodrigo, who was still sleeping peacefully in his own; she then went to Giovanni and gave a light kiss to his forehead; she headed silently past Cesare then, and out of the nursery.
"You told her."
"Of course I told her, I had to talk to someone, this thing has been driving me to drink, as you well know," Lucrezia snapped at him. The villa was quiet and they were in the kitchen, where Lucrezia was, indeed, reaching for a fresh bottle of wine from the rack upon the wall.
"Put that down..." Cesare frowned through his command at her.
"Now you order me about...like a child. Is that what I have to look forward to, Cesare Borgia? In the New World?"
"We are already in the New World. And no. You have ever my love to look forward to, here...where we go next...now—and forever."
"Do I?"
Cesare walked over to her, gently took the bottle out her hand and set it upon the table; he took her chin into his hand and even more gently, forced her gaze upon him. "You do." His words were barely a whisper, as was the distance of his mouth from hers when he spoke them. "We should be doing what they are doing...upstairs, there..." His lips were about to overtake hers but Lucrezia broke out of his spell and pushed him away.
"They are doing nothing...not tonight, anyway...not in his wretched state. And I am even less inclined to engage with you in such a way, Cesare." Lucrezia moved far way from him as she went to the patio portico and looked out into the dark night.
"Liar. Beautiful..." Cesare took slow, deliberate steps toward her, "...little..." he was upon her and encircled his arms about her delicate waist, "...liar..." he murmured into her hair.
"Why are you at me, brother? Surely Micheletto is waiting for you," she said icily.
"Micheletto and I have not indulged ourselves in such a manner, Lucrezia—" Cesare took an angry step away from her. "No one...has indulged themselves—for the whole of this past month—in such a manner! Have you both not made the men in this house suffer enough?"
Lucrezia turned, just as angrily, to face him. "And who, truly, brought about all of this suffering? Not I. Not Dorotea. Oh!" she stomped her foot at him as her fists pounded upon the sides of her thighs. "It is too much, Cesare! Your revelation; this impending separation—you said that we would be happy neighbors—you lied to me!" Lucrezia railed at him, "You knew all along that our journey away from here would also be a journey away from Dorotea, and you didn't even tell me! So like father, you are! To keep the important details to yourself! With no thought of the impact of your actions upon the others around you!"
"You are upset, and for no reason—" he countered hotly.
She gawped at him. "No reason?"
"No reason! The discord between myself and Diego is mended—it is our promise to you both that you and Dorotea will not lose touch with each other—they've made up with each other, why can we not do the same?" he asked her through the flare of his nostrils, his stance across from her as combative and exasperated as his words.
"We cannot do the same brother..." Lucrezia went to the table and snatched up the wine bottle Cesare had taken from her before, "because, while our bed is quite comfortable, it is not big enough to accommodate three...a necessary thing, I understand, for us going forward, yes? And where is Micheletto?"
"Stop this..."
But Lucrezia turned to leave the room.
"Lucrezia," he barked after her, to which she whipped around to face him again.
"Do not speak my name another time this night, Cesare Borgia; and do not dare to apologize to me, for it is impossible for you to be anything other than your complete self. And so, off to the Newer World we go, then; take care, brother, and never forget that our Borgia blood—and our Borgia traits—make me more than your worthy contender." With that Lucrezia smashed the wine bottle upon the table and stormed away from him, back up the stairs and to the nursery.