Holy shit my guys and gals, it's been for fucking ever! Granted, it's really my fault but hey, I was moving across the state, so I was a bit busy. Then I got a job, started school, my brother got married! It was fucking crazy. But now I've finally gotten a chance to breathe and I realized how much I missed writing this story. So, I'm sorry for being absent but I am back, I promise. I do not own anything from the Borgias except for Contessina. So, without further ado, here we go! -ML
The Vatican
Contessina and Cesare were in Lucrezia's chambers, the poor girl distraught after Djem's death. She had left the bed in days, crying in despair over her dear friend. As Contessina and Cesare attended to her, she finally spoke to them,
"Oh, what was the illness our dear Djem died of, brother?"
"Marsh fever." Cesare said wiping away the sweat on her brow with a cloth, Contessina lying next to her friend.
"That he caught from our own swamps? I fear I may have caught it too." Lucrezia said, shivering in her linens. It was then Contessina spoke,
"No, my love. We think perhaps you are sick with heartbreak. He was such a dear friend to you and to us all." Contessina said with a pointed look at the Cardinal. She knew of what happened that night, of how Juan smothered Djem, all for the sake of money. As she looks Cesare in the eyes, she sees that they are filled with remorse. But if it is remorse for killing or the displeasure for his sister, she did not know.
"I think I shall never have another friend like him." Lucrezia said gazing at her brother.
"You shall always have me and Contessina." Cesare looks to the Florentine lady for assurance. Contessina then knew that he was asking for help comforting the gentle girl.
"Satan himself would have to tear from your grasp my dear, sweet friend. I would fight to stay by both of your sides, no matter what." Lucrezia looked slightly placated by her friend's words but then asked a question that stunned them both.
"I have heard it whispered by the maid servants that his estate paid for my dowry. Is this true?"
"I think you know, my love, that our father has funds enough." Cesare said wishing to let the matter go.
"But…if it were true, Cesare, I could never marry this Giovanni Sforza, however handsome he may be."
"Who told you he was handsome?" asked Cesare with a wry smile on his lips, while Contessina gives a little snort. Then they all laugh just a little, breaking up the somber mood just a bit. Lucrezia gives a big sigh, then continues,
"He is ugly, then? What a fate."
"He is far from ugly. He has his Sforza profile, the nobility of bearing."
"And the Sforza armies. And the castles. And all those things that will help our dear father's cause."
"You are learning fast, Lucrezia."
"Not fast enough. Tell me again what my dear Djem died of."
"Swamp fever."
"A mosquito…killed my Moor. You would not lie to me, brother?" At this, Cesare looks deeply uncomfortable, his eyes shifting around, not wanting to take away his sister innocence. Contessina sees this, and interrupts the two,
"I think you should sleep now, my love. Cesare and I must attend to your father on matters of state, though I do not wish to leave your side." Lucrezia nods her assent, hoping to slip into her dreams, where Morpheus conjures her dusky friend. As she slips away, Contessina and Cesare hear her whisper into the air.
"Perhaps it's a mosquito has bitten me." And with that parting thought, Contessina and Cesare exit her chambers, walking several hallways away Cesare grabs Contessina arm and pulls her over to the wall.
"Thank you, for being there for my sister."
"She is a sweet girl and is becoming a dear friend to me. I would not willingly stand by and watch her despair. Nor would I watch you flounder to help her either."
"What would you have me say? That because of our father, her friend had to die? To pay for her dowry, and drive her into further despair?"
"All I am saying, Cesare, is that if you continue to lie to her, she will eventually find out and resent you for it. And do not take that tone with me! I am simply giving advice to help protect that girl just awhile longer, if your brother doesn't muck it up!"
"Then learn when to speak, my lady, when spoken to!"
"Only if you learn to take caution, Your Eminence!" Chest heaving with exertion, she tugs her arm out of his hand, turning away to storm off. She only makes it a few feet before she is pushed to the wall, with one of his hands near her head. He gazes down at her, seeing the ferocity in her eyes, both not willing to back down from this contest of wills. She sees his eyes flickering down her face before returning to meet her gaze.
"Regardless of my brother's mistakes, I need you to keep this secret. Lucrezia must not know."
"Don't worry, Your Eminence. I am not so mad that I will go spilling secrets."
"And keep it that way my lady. Now we must go, Micheletto has news of Della Rovere for us in my family's palazzo."
"And I have business to attend to, I cannot drop everything for you!"
"Even when it involves Florence?" It was then he had her attention, for even when she had spent two years away from her beloved city, she still longed to see it safe. She begins to walk to the Borgia palazzo, not waiting to see if Cesare was behind her or not. Oh, how infuriating this man can be.
Borgia Palazzo
As she enters the palazzo, she sees Micheletto standing behind…a monk? How is a monk going to help with Della Rovere? But she says nothing, instead walks over to Micheletto, offering some cheese.
"How are you Micheletto?"
"I am well, my lady."
"Good, I would hate to think that the Cardinal mistreats you so."
"He treats me as well as you treat your man, my lady." She gave him a sly smile, amused by his answer.
"Just so." It was at this moment that Cesare walked in, looking equally bewildered as to why there was a monk in his courtyard.
"What is he, Micheletto? Benedictine, or Franciscan?
"He belongs to a mendicant order, Your Eminence."
"Well, where is his begging bowl then?"
"He has yet to find one. But he will."
"So, with his begging bowl, he can travel to Florence. He can send you reports—what he sees, what he hears."
"Then no killing."
"I am afraid, dear Micheletto, that the scandal of your Naples misadventure travelled wide. We must make do now with information—" Contessina begins barely before Cesare cuts her off.
"About who Della Rovere meets, where he travels. Besides, monks do not kill."
"No. They beg and they pray, Your Eminence."
"Has he a name, this mendicant?" At this, Micheletto pulls off the mendicants hood, revealing a man with a scarred face. He bows his head before answering.
"Giancarlo, at Your Eminence's service." Cesare pokes around at his scars.
"Your scars betray you. Keep yourself cowled." Micheletto pushes the man out of the palazzo, sending him on his way. Contessina goes to leave, fed up with men's problems for the day already. As she passes by, Cesare stops her.
"I apologize for earlier. I did not mean to imply that you are untrustworthy. And for cutting you off as well. I would protect your identity in this." Contessina glares a bit before relaxing her ire.
"Do not do it again Cesare, I am in this now. You cannot always protect me."
"But I will always try."
"Also, don't be surprised if Della Rovere has seen my brother or Savonarola. Both currently hold the power in the city, no matter how fast it slips from my brother's grasp."
"I will, now where are you off to?"
"Back to the Vatican, I must help La Bella Farnese with your sister wedding gown." She takes her leave of him, heading back to the hall of Saint Peters.
The Vatican
Inside the fitting chamber, Lucrezia stands on the pedestal, attendants around the hem of the gown. Giulia is working on one of Lucrezia's sleeves while Contessina has an accounts book in her lap. The silence is very comforting until Giulia breaks it.
"You look pale, Bella Lucrezia."
"Yes, I have been ill. My dusky friend inhabits my dreams." Contessina understands her struggle, having a certain dark figure occupy her thoughts and dreams as well. Giulia does not even look up when she says,
"Do not think so much of Djem, my dear."
"He has a secret that he cannot speak of. His beautiful dark mouth opens, but no sounds come out."
"In your dreams?"
"And I have to kiss those lips to comfort them"
"Oh, dear." Giulia says, throwing away the sleeve, the knowledge dawning on her. Lucrezia continues, seeming frightened.
"Is it…permissible, Donna Giulia, to kiss a dead Moor in your dreams?"
"All things are permissible in our dreams." Giulia gets up, the maids backing away in deference. She grabs Lucrezia's hand and spins her on the pedestal. "Look in the mirror, Lucrezia. You as well Contessina. Both of yourselves are dream enough for anyone." Contessina laughs at this, before stating,
"No one is dreaming of this anytime soon."
"I could be happy in this dress. But I shall need lessons in kissing. I shall soon have to kiss the Lord Sforza." Giulia and Contessina look at each other before Contessina gets up and dismisses the maids. While escorting them out, she closes the door, turning to find Giulia and Lucrezia on the sofa, a space already there for her. Giulia wait until she has sat down before speaking.
"First, there's a chaste kiss, full of promise like this one." She kisses them both, lingering a bit on each cheek. Lucrezia giggles,
"That's easy."
"Then, there's the kiss of pleasure, which begins to promise."
"You know them all?"
"All of them. There are many more. Any woman must." And Lucrezia, having gain confidence, commands Giulia.
"Show." And with this, Giulia kisses both girls on the lips, and Contessina was left feeling flushed, for when Giulia kissed her, she envisioned red robes, dark hair, and a knowing mouth. Lost in her thoughts she was, broken out of her daze by Lucrezia's voice.
"Did my mother kiss my father thus?"
"I would hazard she did."
"And you, do you kiss him thus now?" The lesson had taken an awkward turn, with Giulia being caught out. Contessina manages to turn it back for the better though.
"Let us adjust your dress." They both usher Lucrezia back to the pedestal, giggling as she twirls around.
"And your dress, Contessina? What will you be wearing?"
"A gown of lavender, I believe. Something bright and airy for my dear friend's wedding."
"And I'm sure you will look fabulous in it. And your dress, Donna Giulia? What color have you chosen?
"I thought a gown of apricot." Giulia says as she slides the sleeve onto Lucrezia's arm. Lucrezia looks hesitant before saying,
"My mother's favorite gown is apricot. You must take care not to outshine her."
"I'm afraid there is no possibility of that."
"What do you mean? You have advised her already."
"You haven't heard?" Contessina felt uneasy at this question, feeling as if something was about to explode.
"Another secret. I'm tired of secrets."
"It is no secret."
"Tell me then. What have I not heard?"
"I would like to know as well." Contessina said, wondering what had been circulating around the Vatican that she had not heard yet.
"Your mother…is not coming to your wedding." Lucrezia laughs in disbelief, but Contessina felt shocked. She knew that the Sforza's were a pretentious bunch but not to the extent of denying the bride's mother to attend, past or not.
"Well, that is silly, Giulia Farnese. Of course she's coming."
"I'm afraid your father has deemed it otherwise."
"My…my father, he would never…"
"I'm afraid—"
"I must speak to him of this." Lucrezia runs out the room, Contessina not far behind. Going through halls and corridors, Lucrezia approaches the Pope's chambers, calling out for him.
"Ah, we are in here, Lucrezia." She enters the room along with Contessina, seeing the Pope and Cesare. The Pope gets with a happy look on his face. "Oh! Ha-ha! Have you come to show us your dress?" Contessina looks to Cesare, a warning look on her face. "Oh! It is even more beautiful than we could have imagined!" Lucrezia marches straight to her father, her tone filled with pleading,
"You are the Pope of Rome. But surely not even the Pope of Rome can bar my mother from my wedding day?" The Pope looks surprised, then guilty. He knew he had been caught. Contessina goes to stand by Cesare, hoping to be out of the argument.
"Oh, dear."
"I will gladly marry whom you choose; what your politics demand. The Borgia family will be united with the Sforzas, but however noble their lineage, they cannot bar my mother from my wedding day."
"No, but these are issues, my dear daughter, that are beyond your care."
"But I am learning Holy Father! She was once what they call a courtesan and you are the Pope of Rome. But you loved her once. As I do now. And I will have my mother at my wedding day." At his daughter's defiance, the Pope walks away anger in his footsteps. Cesare moves to deter his sister, but Contessina know her well enough that it will not stop her.
"Come, sis. Let us talk of these things elsewhere." But Lucrezia does not listen, she runs after the Pope, screaming.
"Please, Holy Father! I need you both there! My mother and my father!" The Pope slams the door shut. Lucrezia stands there sobbing before turning and running away, Cesare and Contessina looking on.
"Well, I don't what you were thinking, trying to stop her."
"I was thinking that the Vatican does not need another screaming match in the Pope's chambers."
"Well, it had one anyway. I will go to check on her then retire for the day. See if you can cool your father down, Your Eminence." And with that she leaves him, her skirts trailing behind her like a winter breeze. As Cesare enters the room, he sees his father bent over the seating arrangements.
"King Ferrante of Naples?" He asked his son as he approached.
"He's too old to attend."
"Well, his son, Alfonso? We must give him pride of place."
"Between the Salviatis and the Colonnas, perhaps?"
"And have them cut each other's throats?"
"An outcome to be fervently desired, surely."
"Yes, but…not in St. Peter's, and not at our daughter's wedding. Where's the doge of Venice?"
"By the Florentine ambassador, Machiavelli."
"And have them plot against us?"
"They do that already, Father."
"No, Venice shall go by the Spanish ambassador. Florence next to the ambassador from the Holy Roman Empire."
"Wise, indeed. But there is one glaring omission, Father."
"There is? Go over it again."
"My mother." The Pope turns away from his son, dismissive. The lack of acceptance from his father irritates Cesare even as the Pope continues,
"So, at the front the Sforzas. And behind them, Alfonso of Naples and Sancia of Naples." The conversation, if you could call it that, was finished. Cesare leaves his father and the Vatican, heading to his palazzo. As he walks, he thinks of her. Of her fire, her passion, her kindness. Kindness which one does not easily find in Rome. While the cleric robes have never been one to stop him, she does not deserve that from him. She deserves everything and more, perhaps more than he can give. So, he watches her, her laughs, and her smiles, and hopes that one day they will be for him. As he enters his palazzo, he hears his mother…and a guest?
"I miss your company, Vanozza." The man finishes pouring his mother a drink and sits down. As he turns to face his mother, he sees Cesare and jumps out the chair like a scared rabbit. "Your Eminence."
"Am I eminent to you? The husband of my mother."
"I should—"
"Sounds like a riddle. If the husband of my mother is not my father, then who is?" Cesare leans down to kiss his mother, amused by the man's fear. "I'm sorry, you should what?"
"Retire."
"Back to that farm the Pope bought for you? Oh, but he wasn't the Pope then, was he? No, no, no, sit, sit. We're all friends here."
"I should hope so." His mother interjects, a warning in her eyes.
"And, if not, family. To think you could have been my father."
"I think not."
"Would I have been different, mother? More at ease? Perhaps, dare one say it, happy?" The silence stretches while Cesare pours himself a glass. "Do you have shepherds on your hills, Theo?"
"Indeed, Your Eminence."
"Do they play the pipes of Pan, as in Virgil's Georgics? Do they fall in love with shepherdesses?"
"They sleep on the bare hillsides. In summer they scorch; in winter they freeze. It is not a life to be envied."
"Et in Arcadia ego."
"You must translate for me, Your Eminence. I am a poor farmer."
"Death also is in paradise."
"Cesare." Vanozza speaks, seeking to rebuke him.
"I merely quote, Mother, from the great poet, Virgil. But speaking of paradise, how is the betrothed one?"
"She's better. She's sleeping soundly."
"We must let her rest, then. You, Theo, you must tell me about sheep. Or goats." And so, the conversation continued, fading into the night.
Over the next few days, the preparations for the wedding finally, now all they needed was the groom. A great procession was held at the gates of the city, with Cesare and Juan on horses to welcome the lord Sforza. As Giovanni Sforza rounded the corner, Cesare saw the man his sister had been sold to. Such a dour man. Sforza pulled to a stop in front of them, and Juan began to speak.
"The honorable Giovanni Sforza, we welcome you to the city of Rome. Our armies are yours. Our hospitality is yours. And our sister shall soon be yours."
"The Sforza armies are at your service. May the union between our families bear every fruit." A few hours later, the ceremony commenced. Contessina walked behind Giulia in the procession, who in turn walked behind Lucrezia. Though the man was so unseemly, Lucrezia was a vision in her dress. She reached the altar, where Sforza took her hand. Then it began.
"Most worthy Lord, do you agree to take the illustrious Lucrezia Borgia, here present, to be your lawful spouse?"
"I do."
"Most illustrious Lady, you agree to take the most noble Lord Giovanni Sforza, here present, to be your lawful spouse?"
"I do." Then they were wed. It was but an hour between ceremony and reception but in that hour the Cardinal seems to have disappeared. Contessina watched as Lucrezia and her new husband opened the dancing, before some lord grabbed her hand. As she was dancing, she recognized him as the Lord Bonadeo.
"Enjoying the festivities, my lady?"
"As much as one can, my lord."
"Why so?"
"I'm not much for dancing I'm afraid." At this the lord had a smug face, as have caught his prize.
"Perhaps I could give you private dance lessons, my lady? To see if I cannot push some grace into you?" Contessina eyes narrowed in rage at the man's upstart attitude.
"I think not my lord, for I would not touch you if God himself said that I must. And I believe your wife would be quite angry." Luckily, after that exchange whispers broke out in the hall, for Cardinal Borgia was escorting his mother into the hall. They stood at the bottom of the stairs, scandal in their wake.
"Mother, if I may have the pleasure, will you join me and the newlyweds in a passamezzo?"
"No, Cesare, I think—"
"I am afraid I must insist. And I imagine His Holiness the Pope would insist too." His voice projects over the hall, turning everyone's head to the dais where His Holiness sat. After a few tense moments, His Holiness nodded his head. Vanozza took Cesare's hand.
"My pleasure." Cesare led his mother over to the newlyweds for introductions.
"Lord Sforza."
"Cardinal."
"The mother of your blushing bride, Donna Vanozza Cattaneo." The dancing began anew after this, with Contessina switching with several partners until she came upon the Cardinal herself.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"I was, until I met Lord Bonadeo. The man is uncouth."
"How so?"
"In not so many words, he propositioned me to be his mistress, I assume."
"He said this to you? The nerve of the man." As he says this Contessina can see his jaw clenching.
"Why the anger? He did not offend you."
"He disgraces you, that gives cause for anger enough."
"Well don't do anything stupid, Your Eminence. This is a wedding after all." Switching again away from the Cardinal, Contessina dances down the line, minding her own until a commotion occurs. The Cardinal and Lord Bonadeo seem to be getting into a argument which ends in Bonadeo and his wife leaving. As she catches Cesare's eyes, he gives her a nod telling her all is well. Not long after that, everyone adjoins for the entertainment Juan had provided. A lecherous and lewd play. During the play, she sees Cesare sweep Lucrezia into his arms, and carrying her off. Contessina stands up and follows them into the wedding chambers in the Vatican. She sees Cesare kiss his sister on her forehead and bade her goodnight. He turns and sees Contessina standing in the door with a smile on her lips.
"The party not exciting enough?"
"It is only exciting if you are drunk, and I am not a person to get drunk."
"Really? I'd bet you'd be pretty flushed from wine." That comment makes her physically blush and turn her head away. She looks back to see him smirking, quite pleased with himself.
"I just wanted to let you know that I am leaving for the night. It has been a trying day."
"Then I hope your dreams are pleasant, my dear lady. I shall see you tomorrow to wish our dear Lucrezia off." With that, he kisses her head, and leaves to go back to the party. Still flushed from his comment, she heads home thinking about his words and if he was serious.
Back at the party, Cesare bids his father goodnight, and heads back to the table where Sforza sits.
"More wine, my lord?"
"Please."
"Your wife sleeps."
"Indeed."
"You should let her rest now. This day has been long for one so young. There is time enough for pleasure."
"Indeed." The next day, Contessina saw the couple march through the gates, trepidation filling her heart. She hears his voice in her ear.
"Do you think he will treat her well?" Cesare asks, concern filling his voice.
"I do not know. But I do know that when she returns, she will be a woman, and far different than we remember her."