Another chapter so soon?! I know, I know. I'm trying hard to be consistent about updating and posting new chapters. But, without further ado, here we go. I own nothing but Contessina.
The Vatican
Contessina was entirely bored. The procession from Naples took days to arrive, with all the pomp and circumstance that required. As usual for these proceedings, Contessina is in an adjacent corridor, able to hear every word. She sees the Pope, as well as Cesare and Juan. Both men look the same as she feels. Entirely bored. Especially Cesare, whose mind seems occupied. Perhaps with thoughts of Madonna Bonadeo. While Contessina likes to pretend as she can, jealously stings at her very core. Ursula is not worthy of Cesare, nor does she understand him. Contessina cannot claim the same, but she feels she is beginning to. She is shaken out of her thoughts when the ambassador from Naples speaks.
"King Ferrante of Naples sends his humble regards." The ambassador begins, only to be interrupted by Juan.
"King Ferrante of Naples can neither hear nor see, I believe?" Juan says, looking totally unaffected. The Pope rebukes his son, and the ambassador continues.
"He nevertheless sends his every good wish. And in the face of all of the spurious claims upon his kingdom from Spain, from France, from the Duchy of Milan, he would remind Your Holiness of the justice of the independent claims of Naples. An independent Naples can only be to Rome's benefit. And I, as his ambassador, am proud to present the suit, for your consideration, of his last unmarried daughter, Sancia, Duchessa of Squillace."
"Where is Squillace?" Juan interrupts again, rather impatient.
"In the Kingdom of Naples." With this, Contessina hears the rustle of fabric, and then several mutterings. Seems that the good cardinals like the portrait. She hears the clanking of Juan's armor as he moves towards the painting.
"My younger brother Joffre is all of thirteen years old." Juan remarks, chuckles threatening to escape him.
"His Highness had understood the prospective groom to be the Gonfaloniere himself, the Duke of Gandia."
"Me? Well, this is most irregular. I would never consider marrying the illegitimate daughter of the King of Naples." With this the Pope interrupts forcefully, hoping to prevent any slights.
"Would you convey our thanks to our friend and ally, King Ferrante, whose claim to independence we fully understand, for his most generous offer? You will have our response shortly." The end of the meeting had arrived, and when the Pope and his sons exited, Contessina went with them. In the Pope's chambers, Cesare and Contessina had moved to the table, eating the food on the plates. As they were taking their seats, Juan stormed in, furious at his father.
"You thought it appropriate? I, Juan Borgia, and the illegitimate daughter of the King of Naples? The Duchessa of Squillace?"
"Our alliance with Naples is now of the utmost importance."
"And one must not forget one's beginnings." Contessina says off-handedly. Juan looks at her incredulously, not comprehending what she is saying.
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing at all. But the origins of a person cannot be so easily overlooked. I have lived in this city for two years now and it has become my home. But I cannot forget that Florence, with her art and beauty, have forged me into the woman I am today."
"But I am the Duke of Gandia. The Gonfaloniere of the papal state. The son of the Pope of Rome."
"Oh, Brother, we are both that." Cesare says to his brother, matter of factly.
"Oh, you marry her then."
"You know marriage for me is not an option." This does not appease Juan, who throws his glove on the table. The Pope, fed up with this, waves his silverware in the air.
"Well, then, let it be Joffre!"
"Joffre still plays with his sister's dolls." Cesare says with ill humor, well aware that his brother is a child. Juan approaches the painting, admiring the image it beholds.
"Here we have a life-size one."
"Lucrezia still plays with dolls. She got married." The Pope says, implying that age is not a factor with this alliance. Cesare is discontented with this remark, the emotion plain on his face.
"She did. Are we to send all of our loved ones off to Pesaro? To Squillace?"
"I will not marry the Duchessa of Squillace. But I will ride to Naples to present my young brother's suit." Contessina sighs heavily at this, already seeing Juan's game. She hopes he has some restraint but unfortunately, that hope is lost.
"Juan…" Cesare says with a warning in his voice.
"One of us must ensure that she is a suitable bride. Or would you prefer the honour?"
"I cannot. I am occupied in Rome."
"Yes, so I've heard." Juan says with teasing, knowing, smile. The Pope chuckles heartily at this, while Cesare looks slightly put upon.
"What have you heard?"
"That beneath that cardinal's skirt, there may still be a man." Juan draws his sword, teasing the edge of Cesare's skirt. In anger, Cesare rips it out of the way, seemingly about to get up. The Pope and Contessina motioning for them to settle down. After both of them leave, it is just the Pope and Contessina. She gets up to leave, wanting to allow the Pope to continue any business he has before he stops her.
"Please, my lady. I would have your advice."
"You have had it always, Your Holiness. How may I advise you?" Contessina asks his Holiness, intrigued as to what his inquiry is.
"We would have your opinions on our sons, my lady."
"On their positions or their temperament towards each other?"
"Both my lady."
"Very well. With Juan's position as Gonfaloniere, he has not done much in the city. He seems to be enjoying the pleasures of his office without recognizing the responsibilities of it." This was entirely true. Juan would rather fuck whores all day long rather than install any patrols around the city. "I fear, Your Holiness, and forgive me for saying this, but if it comes to war, which may very well happen in the coming months, Juan would fail to measure up to the task."
"And yet he has been training for this his whole life." The Pope says to counter her point.
"But training means nothing when the battle rages, he sinks or he swims, and right now I do not believe he is ready for it." The Pope nods, acknowledging her point.
"And Cesare?" She looks at His Holiness, knowing he knows her answer.
"Your son Cesare is chafing, Your Holiness. While I believe he acknowledges the current benefits of the office he is in, he loathes the confines he has been forced into. It will not be long before he begins to buck the restraints the red robes put on him. In this, Cesare longs to protect this family, by any means necessary. It gives him a slight advantage over Juan."
"Only slight?"
"In focusing on protecting one's family, he could lose sight of the larger goal. That is what you may have to temper with him." His Holiness looks troubled at this, but not surprised.
"My son has always been to much like me. Stubborn and headstrong." He sighs at this, aware of the enormity of the task before him. "And their animosity?"
"Cesare longs for Juan position of warfare, where he believe he excels. Juan know that Cesare wants his position so he fights him and taunts him over the cardinal's skirt. At the moment, is it currently amiable competition."
"And in the future?"
"It may turn to hostility and rage. One might push the other too far."
"Neither would ever hurt one another, they are brothers!"
"Forgive me again, Your Holiness, but that did not stop Cain." The despair on his face clear, His Holiness realizing that his sons may turn against each other as the oldest pair of brothers in existence did. His sadness seems to make his shoulders sink even further.
"Thank you for your counsel, my lady. You always have given me honesty."
"And you have always given me respect Your Holiness. You were my mentor in this Holy See, and I cannot begin to thank you for the lessons you have taught me." It is true. When Contessina and Rodrigo would go over the Papal accounts he never belittled her nor was he condescending. It was a change of pace compared to other encounters she has had. She gave him her respect in turn, and she eventually saw through the subtle lessons he would teach her. Her father died when she was young and Rodrigo became, in a way, that figure in her life, teaching her the things she needed to know to survive in this city. She would always be grateful to him for that.
"And you were the most apt student I have had the pleasure of teaching my dear." He smiles upon, an emotion shining in his eyes. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps not. No one but him will know. "I will not keep you any longer, my dear. I hope you have a pleasant day." She curtsies before leaving him. In all her time in Rome, she had not realized she had bound herself so thoroughly to the Borgia family. First with His Holiness, then with Cesare and Lucrezia, who she both admires so ardently. It makes her miss her only family she loves still, her brother, Giuliano. But she loves this Borgia family, even against her scruples.
Cesare's Palazzo
Cesare was expecting Ursula fairly soon, but not the next day soon. As they walk through his home, she seems impatient and so is he. If he cannot have Contessina, then Ursula will do. She wants love so desperately. And, in his own way, he loves her. Not the all-consuming love he feels for Contessina, but love, nonetheless. A blessed distraction. As Ursula looks around, she finally speaks.
"It's your residence, Cardinal?"
"For the moment."
"You are spare in your tastes, Cardinal."
"There is but one ornament I need here." She is very pretty after all, less so than his love, but pretty. For a moment, she seems hesitant. As she moves towards a pillar, she nervously asks him,
"May I call you something other than Cardinal?" Ah, so she does not want the guilt of fucking a man of the cloth, reluctant he may be. He presses her firmly against the pillar, caging her in his arms.
"Call me Cesare."
"Cesare. Remind me why I am here, Cesare." She really does love assurances does she not?
"Because you want to be."
"Because…"
"Your husband's absence makes it possible." He kisses her, but she backs away once again
"Because…"
"It is time to stop pretending." Kissing her once again, holding her waist possessively. And again, she pulls away.
"Please. I do not trust my heart."
"Oh, you must, to have come here with me." Stupidly trusting it with him but trusting, nonetheless. She wants his love so bad, and she will have some of it. The worst parts of it. The ones he does not let Contessina see.
"Can you love me, Cesare Borgia? Or is it just desires of the flesh?"
"I am very much afraid that it is both. One or the other, I could deal with. Both, and I may be lost." A partial truth. Because he is lost, but to Contessina de Medici instead. He pushes her into his bed, the both of them divesting their clothes. As he thrusts into her, she gives a little moan. As he keeps delving in, it takes all of his concentration and will to not say Contessina name. During this, Ursula smiles a little.
"You make me hope. And I am afraid of hope."
"Hope for what?"
"For days like this. In the future, with you."
"If you were given them?"
"I beg you, do not make me hope. He will be home in two days."
"Perhaps his business will detain him." Indefinitely. With that, he continues, chasing his pleasure. Not cruel enough to deny hers, but in the end not his priority. It would be different with Contessina. Because in the end she is all that matters.
Several Days Later
Cesare and Ursula lay in bed, still caught in the throws of passion. Even as he appreciates, loves in a way, Ursula, Contessina lingers in his thoughts. He has not seen her the past few days, occupied as he is. He wants to savour this as long as possible because he knows it cannot last. The simplicity of Ursula, knowing that she does not know his true self. That she would flee in terror in she knew. And in the darkest parts of himself, he prays to God that Contessina does not recoil from him as well. As they are entwined, Ursula suddenly slows.
"My husband has been absent all of a week now."
"You said he went to Ostia. Are there not women in Ostia?"
"You say that so bluntly, Cesare Borgia. It makes me fearful."
"Of what?"
"Of the consequences of your affections." At this Cesare feels frustration, can she not think of her husband in this moment? Is it not too much to ask for her to focus on him?
"Can you not give thanks for the time we have spent together?"
"Thanks to whom?"
"To the moon. To Venus. To, dare I say, the good Lord."
"Does He not look down upon us this minute?"
"If He sees what I see, He sees that it is good."
"You were ordained a priest, and yet you blaspheme thus."
"If appreciation of your beauty is blasphemy, consider me a blasphemer indeed. A blasphemer and a heretic."
"You frighten me, sometimes." And yet she pulls closer to him, letting her perceived love win her senses. And he loses himself in her, the pleasure consuming him for the moment.
The Borgia Palazzo
Contessina sits at the table with Vannozza, Cesare, Juan, and Joffre. The food is exquisite and the wine more so, but they are here to be entertained by Juan's tales of Naples. Joffre begins to speak, with an inquisitive look on his face.
"You met my betrothed, Brother?"
"I did." And he leaves it at that. Contessina fed up with Juan's behavior, so she looks to Cesare, motioning with her eyes to encourage him on.
"Your silence is alarming, Brother." Cesare smacks him harshly with a napkin, wanting to put their little brother at ease. "Put little Joffre at ease." Juan barely reacts to this but continues to speak.
"Rest assured, Joffre, she does not have horns."
"Is she pretty?" Juan looks pensive, then dismissive in one glance.
"No."
"Is she kind?"
"I know not."
"Does she have qualities to recommend her?" At this, Juan gets up and walks around the table. Contessina looks so tired of this, cannot he not be the center of attention for one evening? Just one? Cesare manages to catch her eye, rolling his at his brother's theatrics. Contessina smiles a little, knowing Cesare finds him just as ridiculous as she does. Juan continues speaking,
"She has two legs." Ah, so he did fuck her then. "The requisite number of eyes. Ten fingers."
"So she is not pretty, and she is not kind. She has two eyes, ten fingers and two legs." Joffre states, bewilderment clear in his eyes.
"Not forgetting toes. Ten of them, I believe." Juan interrupts. Joffre looks solemn, the emotion strange on a child's face. The he says with a wavering resolve to his mother,
"I will only marry once, Mother." Juan stands behind his brother, before his face breaks out into a smile. He quickly picks up his brother by his armpits, reeling him into the air.
"Oh, little Joffre! She is not only pretty."
"No?" Joffre asks.
"She is beautiful!"
"Really?" Joffre excitement is plain on his face, beauty the only thing the child thinks of, not of the eventual marital act.
"And she's an angel, sprung up on the soils of Naples. In fact, if you will not marry her, I would marry her myself." No, you would fuck her yourself. As long as it is a Borgia, Juan would only have to worry about cuckolding his younger brother. As looks at both Cesare and Vannozza, they all share knowing looks.
"Really?"
"Yes. Really. Now, do I have your permission?"
"You may not, Juan. She is my betrothed." Like that would ever stop him.
"Yes, she is. And who is a lucky boy?" That is it, she cannot take this any longer. Contessina stands up, readying to leave. Both Cesare and Vannozza look to her, the inquiry on their faces.
"Forgive me, but I must head home. Business starts early, and I cannot afford to fall behind. But thank you very much for the invitation, Madonna Vannozza. As always, your company is a treasure to be in." Cesare stands with her, taking his things with him as well.
"I will escort you home."
"I do not need an escort, Your Eminence." Contessina says firmly. What ever she feels for this man, does not mean she is blind to his comings and goings. He is hardly being subtle with Ursula, secure in the knowledge that Bonadeo is dead.
"Ladies such as yourself should be looked after, my lady. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not escort you safely home." She rolls her eyes, annoyance filling her body. She gives a curtsy to the lady of the house, then takes her leave. She walks a quick pace, not waiting for the Cardinal. "My lady, wait." She walks even faster. Does he think her incompetent, not knowing of the dangers of the city. It is not as if she has lived the past two years in this city without his protection, she certainly does not need it now. "Contessina!" The streets are dark, only the moon lighting the way. He pulls at her arm, making her stop. "I told you to stop!"
"And you do not command me, Cardinal Borgia! I have lived in this city for years now, and I did not need your help then and I do not need it now! Your protection is better afforded on the object of your current affections, for I certainly do not want it!" She tears away from him, indignation filling her steps. She hears him laughing, and it fills her with rage. She is not a toy for his amusement! She turns back around, fury sparking the air. "What, exactly, is so amusing, Cardinal?" She spits out his title like a curse, but for some reason it only makes him smile wider.
"You are jealous."
"Jealous?! Of what exactly?"
"Of Ursula Bonadeo."
"Hah! As if I could ever be jealous of that woman, she who acts so innocent but chases so blatantly after you. Marriage vows mean little to her, and she is only looking for an escape. And she will leave after she learns the truth." With those words, Cesare's face pales before filling with determination.
"And what truth is that, my lady?"
"That his body will eventually float up on the shores of the Tiber. That you killed him for the insult he dealt your mother. You were clever, Cardinal, you, and Micheletto both. But not entirely clever." He crowds into her space, encapsulating her against a wall. His eyes stare into her, the blackness unending. Her body trembles, but not in fear. It trembles in a state of anticipation.
"Think about what you say next, my lady. You may not like my reaction."
"Or what? What will you do? You will not kill me, not when you need me so." Because he does, to protect his family, he needs her. He takes her chin, tilting her head so far up that she is forced to stand on her toes, eye contact never breaking in this exchange. He leans his head down, his nose skimming her jaw, up into her hair. She feels him take a breath, his chest touching hers.
"You… you…"
"What?"
"…are infuriating." The word shakes through him, Contessina feeling it through where their skin makes contact. She laughs in his face, not unkindly though. After all, he infuriates her just as much. She looks back in his eyes, resolved hardening in anticipation of what she is about to say.
"She will leave you, Cardinal. She will see you for what you are, and she will flee in terror."
"And what, you know me so well?"
"No, but I am learning, Your Eminence."
"Call me Cesare."
"Your Eminence."
"Cesare."
"Your Eminence." She would not be so easily won. "Take your pleasures while you can, Your Eminence. She will not allow it for much longer." She leaves him standing in the dirt, dust swirling in her steps. She makes it to her palazzo, closing the door. Only to collapse against it, the righteous anger leaving her bereft. Inside all of her anger, the passion and lust threaten to consume, leaving her a mess. This man who evokes such emotion is a dangerous idea. But she still wants him, against all logic she possesses. She heads to her room, unbeknownst to her, that Cesare leans against the same door. That he feels the same. That he wishes to have her utterly, and all to himself and he to her. Come what may, he is hers and she is his and nothing will stand in his way for him to have her.
The Vatican
The next day Cesare was apprehensive because Ursula requested his presence in the Vatican. Had his actions already been discovered? Was she about to proclaim him a murderer in front of everyone? And if she does, will he ever see Contessina again? Just the thought of it is unbearable. He sees Ursula sitting on a pew, her face covered heavily in a veil. As he sits down beside her, she glances at him out of the corner of her eye.
"I asked to meet you here because my husband has been found. Washed up on the shores of the Tiber, three weeks dead with stab wounds to his neck. For those three weeks I gave my body to you. I broke my marriage vows."
And if that does not hurt like a bitch, "I thought, perhaps I hoped you did so willingly." He says, trying to placate her.
"You bought those three weeks with murder! I told you he was riding on the road to Ostia that night." With his silence, she grows frustrated, throwing her veil off revealing her face. "Admit it, Cardinal."
"I admit nothing."
"Yet the crime is written on your face."
"There was no murder. He fought. He lost." She lets out a mournful wail, her cries falling silent as she sobs into her hands.
"I begged you not to meet him."
"You begged me not to place myself in harm's way." He cajoles her, trying to get her to admit to…something.
"I had no idea you had such capabilities."
"And to think I thought you knew me." In some way, he hoped that she had. That she saw what was inside of him and loved him anyway. But it was all for naught. It seems Contessina was right.
"I thought I knew a man. A man conflicted, perhaps, between the world and God. But not a murderer."
"Is it murder to defend your mother's honour? To procure the freedom of one you could love…even more than your mother's honour?" He could have loved her, eventually. But not now, not when she is so repulsed by him. "If it is, I am a murderer born."
"Maybe God can forgive you because I'm not sure I can."
"Do you think I care for the forgiveness of God? I care for your happiness, your future. And I have now given it to you. Libera me, you asked me."
"You have not given me a future. You have given me a lifelong penance. I am party to your crime. I feel for you still…but I know not this monster beside me." She gets up to leave, but he grabs her arm and pulls her back down harshly. As he leans in close, he hisses in her ear.
"Well, let me tell you. I was born with a stain. A mark. Like the mark of Cain. But it is the mark of my father, my family. The mark of Borgia. I have tried to be other than I am. And I have failed. And if I have failed you in the process, I am truly sorry." As he says these words, his loses his anger, it being drained of him. She begins to cry anew at this.
"You…you have the devil's insight, Cardinal. You read what my heart wanted and you gave it to me. You gave me joy; through a crime I could not have conceived of. And now I must live my life in penance, praying for forgiveness." She could not, would not. She would live out the rest of her days in holy orders?!
"Where?"
"You will not know where." She walks away, him standing up to challenge her.
"You mean a nunnery?"
"I mean confinement."
"I will search you out. Like Abelard and Eloise. You may find a nunnery cell, but you will never be free of me!" Even if she is not his real love, she is his in a way. Why should he be denied when he cannot have what he truly wants. Why does she get what she wants?
"You are right. I will never be free of you." And then she leaves him, for good this time. The unbidden tears well up in his eyes, and fights to keep them from falling. It seems that some part of his heart, the hopeful bit of it, wanted her love with its unending easiness. But in the end, she rejects every bit of him, not wanting the monster she claims he is. He walks aimlessly, his thoughts consuming his mind. His sadness deflates, leaving only the cold sting of anger. How could she be so cruel, he loved her! It may not have been a total love, but it was love, nonetheless. And he promised to himself that his words will ring true. He will find her, even if to exact some type of revenge. His thoughts of anger lead his feet in a new direction. It leads him all the way to her.
Medici Palazzo
Contessina was working, going over the bank's financials and various accounts. She finally had enough to improve some of her ownings, buildings and the like. As she sat in her courtyard, a breeze billowed around her. It played with her skirts and hair, caressing her skin softly. It felt like a hand gently touching her neck, twisting her hair. It felt like him. Unbeknownst to her, he was staring at her from the entrance. At the way her hair curled, the way she bites her lip in concentration. As his thoughts of her go to a sinful place, he finally speaks.
"You were right." At this, Contessina looks up, startled. As she registers the Cardinal, she recalls their last conversation and the emotions that came with it.
"Right about what Cardinal? These days I am right about many things." Alright so she is a bit petty. But can anyone blame her? Yes, she is obvious jealous, but she would have never let Cesare see that.
"I would not think you to be so cruel, madam, to taunt me like this."
"Oh, I do not need to taunt you. You do that to yourself already. So, she fled, I take it? Well, I would hate to say I told you so…"
"No, you would not. You must be so amused at my misfortune, knowing what would happen."
"I am not amused, cardinal. However, I did warn you what would happen."
"Is it so bad that I love her?!"
"Oh please, it was not love! One would think a cardinal would recognize lust when he experiences it! Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me." She turns away, shaking her head in weariness of the situation. This however was the final straw for Cesare. His desire and anger rose in tandem, and he stalks towards her, spinning her around and pressing her close to his body. Contessina feels her eyes widen, not expecting this brazenness. His hand slides into her hair, gripping the base of her skull and pulls her hair tightly. His face comes close to her, pupils blown wide.
"Careful, my dear. That vulgar mouth of yours will get you into trouble."
"But Cardinal, you carry all the trouble with you." His mouth descends on her, a relentless war of domination, to claim what is his. She fights back with her own, not giving an inch. He pulls her even closer, seemingly wanting to absorb her very essence. His hands drifts down to her neck, pulling a firm grip on it. The sensation makes her falter, and Cesare wins the match. He plunders her mouth, drawing little gasps from her, which makes his blood runs south. The moment seems to never end, until he is shoved away. As he gazes on her, the image before him is glorious. Her lips bruised from his kiss, her wild eyes roving his body. She grips the table, her chest heaving from exertion. And from the unquenchable fury rising in her. "So, tell me, Cardinal," she spits his title like the curse that it is, "Were you unable to slake your lust on that woman? Is that why you come before me? To be the consolation prize?" The questions take him aback, unused to her fire.
"What? No, Conte—"
"Because I will not be second. I will not. I deserve to be first, to be the first choice of someone's desires. And if you feel like I will allow it because you are hurt Cesare Borgia, you have another thing coming. If you want me, you must prove it." She pushes him out of her palazzo and locks the door behind her. She never turns back, not even for the pounding on the door.
The Vatican
Contessina was in the Vatican's courtyard, reviewing the accounts and surprising a report to bring to his Holiness. Her mind drifts to the altercation that she had with Cesare earlier on. In her anger she may have been too harsh to him, but her pride and virtue demanded it of her. By the memory of her mother, she would give her body only to her husband. And while Contessina would like for him to be her husband, he's confined to the church. So, no matter how much he tempts her, she has to resist him. Even though everything in her yearns for him. As she ponders her predicament, a faint voice cuts through the air.
"Contessina!" Contessina looks around her but sees no one. The voice comes again. "Contessina!" No, it cannot be, she is supposed to be in—as a figure turns the corner, the person reveals themselves. Contessina runs towards her dearest friend, the sister of her heart.
"Oh, my dear Lucrezia. How I have missed you. How has married life treated you? Are you well?"
"It was hard it at first, but I am content." Lucrezia says with a tight smile on her face. As Contessina stares into her eyes, she spies a hidden pain in their depths. No, her friend is hiding something.
"He has hurt you. Please don't try to deny it, I can see it plain on your face. I trust you hurt him back?"
"My Lord husband took a fall while hunting on his horse."
"Clever. A simple solution to buy you time."
"I tended to his bedside as he was injured. Some of my charms have worked on him, hence my being here. But enough of my boorish husband, tell me of Rome! Has there been much intrigue?"
"Well as you know your youngest brother Joffre, is betrothed to Sancia of Naples, though if you ask me your brother Juan has already sampled her."
"Juan was indeed a favourite of the ladies, so this does not surprise me."
"Cesare found himself enamored with a lady, and when her husband insulted your mother, he naturally took offense. So, when said lady pleaded to bring her freedom, he fell for her and fell hard. And when they were discovered, her husband struck her. In his anger, your brother struck him down and dumped his body in the Tiber. When the lady found out, she vowed to give penance and to never see your brother again." She ended the tale at this, but Lucrezia was just as perceptive as Contessina.
"That is not all, I can tell it is not." Contessina sighed and told the parts she left out.
"I told her brother that she would find out, and that she would flee him. I told him that she would not accept all of him, including the darkest parts of him. The next day after, he came to my palazzo. I told him it was not love but lust that he felt and as a cardinal that he should know better. Then, for some reason that I know not, he proceeded to kiss me. and while at first, I was happy for this to occur, I soon became angry. I did not want to be as consolation prize, and I told him as such. Then I pushed him out of my house and have not seen him since." Contessina says all of this quickly, hoping to not anger her friend. But Lucrezia merely smiles sadly at her.
"I understand your reasoning my friend. Men can be such foolish creatures. I would be remiss not to include my brother in this." She quickly hugs me again, tight and fierce. "Now I must go find my brother, for as foolish as he is, I miss him so. But please say you will sit with me when Joffre is wed. I do love being in your company."
"Nothing would please me more. I will see you soon my dear." Lucrezia takes her leave, leaving Contessina to her work.
Cesare was speaking with another cardinal, talking of the upcoming wedding, when a voice interrupted him.
"Cesare!" He turns around and sees his sweet sister. He turns back to the other cardinal., giving excuses before making his way to his sister. He picks her up, spinning her in his arms. How he missed her. They proceeded to make their way to the courtyard, before stopping at the fountain. He takes her hands, kissing them gently before proceeding to speak with her.
"So tell me, Lucrezia. Marriage is—"
"It…was hard, at first. But then it grew sweeter."
"I need details." He would not endure her to suffer silently. Not like—
"You will not have them." She pulls away, smiling sweetly. They then sit by a pond in the shade.
"Your husband, Giovanni…"
"He…fell off his horse. Foolish man. He will go hunting." She laughs a little at this. "I find the more confined husbands become the more… tolerable. I could write a book about it. Perhaps I will. And you, Brother? What of your heart?" He smiles sardonically and with bitterness in his heart.
"It was broken by a nun."
"A nun? Like Eloise? Will you spend a lifetime writing to her?"
"I could if I knew where she was."
"But you can find out, surely."
"I intend to."
"How wonderful. And tell me…what of your kiss with Contessina?" She asked him coyly. He looks at her in alarm. She laughs at him. "Did you not think she would tell me? We are like sisters, she and I."
"I confess, I did. In truth, the nun is a distraction from her. In my anger at the nun and in my desire for Contessina, I kissed her. She was not pleased."
"She said she had no wish to be a consolation prize."
"She told me as such. And I have not seen her since, no matter how hard I try."
"Then earn her forgiveness at the wedding. She will accompany us and then you can plead your case to her." With this, she leans her head on his shoulder. "We can both write books.
Days Later
Contessina, Lucrezia, and Cesare sit in the Church of Saint Peters where the bride of the occasion kisses the feet of the Pope. Joffre walks down the aisle, his mother proudly escorting him. As the bride and groom take their place the ceremony begins. As cardinal Sforza begins the rites, Lucrezia speaks.
"She is too beautiful. I hate her."
"If you hate beauty, dear sis, you must hate yourself." Cesare tell his sister. Contessina leans towards Lucrezia, intent to speak.
"She is not so beautiful as you my dear." Lucrezia gives a small smile.
"All right. I will love her then. But deep down, somewhere, I still hate her."
"One can hate and love, I have found." Cesare says lowly.
"Truer words have never been spoken." Contessina says, almost scathingly. Cesare looks to her, his eyes filled with pain.
"There was a poem, wasn't there, that said just that." Lucrezia asked.
"Odi et amo."
"Poor Joffre. He deserved better than Naples."
"Are you becoming expert in genealogy?"
"I have heard the rumours of her monstrous father."
"And you believed them?"
"They are true. He has his very own Last Supper filled from his enemies. My father told me of them." Contessina said to the siblings.
"But why Naples, brother?"
"Our father has a realm to protect."
"And you think Sancia will protect it?" Contessina asked derisively. Cesare looks at her, a stern and solemn look on his face.
"We must wait and see." They all fell silent, watching the ceremony to its completion. Contessina did not feel up to the reception, and in truth, did not want to celebrate the marriage of a child. She bid her goodbyes and departed to leave. Cesare followed her, however.
"My lady, may we speak?" Sighing in frustration and reluctance, she acquiesced. He led them to an alcove not far away, but still in sight of others.
"Well, Your Eminence? What did you wish to speak of?" Yes, she was angry. Yes, she desired him. But that does not make him free to her.
"I would ask forgiveness, my lady, for my actions. And I have you know that you have all my respect, and I am sorry if I have infringed upon that." As she gazed in his eyes, she saw the sincerity held within them. Her anger drained away from, her heart forgiving him. She has to draw a line though.
"You have it, Your Eminence." He smiles and goes to kiss her hands, but she draws away. "However, perhaps our emotions have become to incensed. Therefore, Your Eminence, I would bid time away so that we may come back together as stronger friends." It pains her to say this, it truly does. But he is a man of the cloth and the Pope's son, nonetheless. And she would rather have his friendship then his bitter enmity. And he was equally devastated. She holds his heart and she tears it from him, with her being gone. But as he looks upon her, he sees the pain in her eyes, and relents. Time away from each other would help him focus on efforts to secure their positions, but it would not wane his affections for her.
"Very well, my lady. But please, do not ignore my family. For we all love your company."
"Fear not, my lord cardinal. You shall me no doubt as to provide your father counsel. And I could never ignore your family, for they are as dear to me as my own." They separate, giving each other a deep bow and a deeper curtsy. But as always, they yearn for the other, the ache of loneliness entwined in their very beings.