“Madonna Lucrezia is happy this night,” people said to one another, and they laughed behind their fans. Had it anything to do with her attractive partner? Francesco Gonzaga could not be called a handsome man, but he was known to appeal to women.

“How can we meet … alone?” demanded Francesco passionately.

“We cannot,” she told him. “It would never be allowed. We are watched closely. My husband watches me, and I wonder too how many in your suite are Isabella’s spies.”

“Lucrezia, in spite of all, we must meet.”

“We must plan with care,” she told him.

There was another matter which she did not forget even as she danced with Francesco and allowed her senses to be exhilarated by his desire for her: the need to help Cesare. Who could be more useful to Cesare than the powerful Marquis of Mantua, the great soldier whom the Pope had made Captain-General of his armies?

“You know of my brother’s escape?” she asked.

He nodded. “It was one of the greatest sorrows in my life that my efforts on his behalf should have failed with the King of Spain.”

“You did your best to help. Do not think I shall ever forget that.”

“I would give my life to serve you.”

There was nothing they could do but dance together; only thus could they touch hands and whisper together. So they danced and danced until the early morning, and Lucrezia seemed like a child again.

She did not realize how exhausted she was until her women helped her to her bed. Then she lay as in a dream, her eyes shining, recalling everything he had said, the manner in which he had looked at her.

I am alive again, she told herself. Cesare is free, Francesco Gonzaga loves me, and I love him.


* * *

She awoke. It was not yet light. Something was wrong, and as she tasted the salty sweat on her lips, she was suddenly aware of acute agony.

She called to her women and they came running to her bedside.

“I am ill,” she said. “I feel as though I am near to death.”

The women looked at each other in alarm. They knew.

The doctors were brought; they nodded gravely. There was whispering throughout the apartment.

“She was mad to dance as she did. It is certain that by so doing she has lost the heir of Ferrara.”


* * *

Alfonso stormed into her apartment. He was too furious to contain his anger.

“So,” he cried, “you have lost my son. What good are you as a wife, eh? You dance through the night to the danger of our heirs. What use are you to me?”

Weak and ill she looked pleadingly at him. “Alfonso …” she began, “I beg of you …”

“Beg … beg …! You will indeed be a beggar if you do not do your duty, woman. This is the third child we have lost. I tell you, you have no notion of your duty here. You bring frivolous Roman customs to Ferrara. We’ll not endure it, I am warning you.”

Lucrezia wilted, and the sight of her fragility infuriated Alfonso the more. He wanted a big strong woman, lusty, sensual and capable of bearing children.

He knew the dangers which threatened those states without heirs. Ippolito had already made trouble; there were the two prisoners in the castle tower. There must be an heir. Lucrezia must either cease disappointing him or he must get him a new wife.

He could no longer bear to look at her lying there among her pillows, elegant even in her present state. The ordeal through which she had passed had made her thinner than ever.

“Are you incapable of bearing children for me?” he cried.

He strode out of the room, and Lucrezia lay back exhausted and trembling.

Melancholy had seized her. There was no news from Cesare; Francesco had gone on his way; and there was a threat in Alfonso’s last words.


* * *

Alfonso strode furiously through the town. He was dressed as an ordinary merchant because he was eager not to be recognized; he did not wish his subjects to see him in this angry mood.

He was regretting that he had ever made the Borgia marriage. Of what use were the Borgia now? Their influence had died with Alexander. He did not believe that Cesare would ever regain his kingdom. Lucrezia was still rich, and that was to the good, but she was not rich in children.

She should certainly not have with her in Ferrara her son by the Duke of Bisceglie. She must be made to realize that her position was a very precarious one and would continue to be so until she gave Ferrara an heir.

He was passing a humble dwelling, and as he did so, a beautiful girl stepped into the street. She was carrying a box—the sort which was used for bonnets—and she walked with grace.

Alfonso immediately felt interested, and so great was that interest that he forgot his resentment against his wife.

He followed the girl. She went into one of the big houses, but he knew she would soon come out since he guessed that she was delivering a bonnet to the lady of that house.

He was right. She soon emerged. Alfonso had rarely seen a face and figure which appealed to him more strongly. She walked with a feline grace although she was large of hip and bosom. Her long hair fell to her waist; it was unkempt, perhaps a little greasy; and her skin was brown. She might have appealed because she was so very different from the elegant wife whom he had just left.

He caught up with her.

“You are in a hurry,” he said, laying his hand on her bare arm.

She turned a startled gaze on him. Her large eyes were soft and without anger.

“I am in no hurry,” she said.

“It is well, because I would talk with you.”

“I must return to my mother’s house,” she said.

“The bonnet-maker?” he asked. “I saw you leave with the box on your arm.”

She recognized him suddenly; she turned to him and dropped a curtsey.

“You know me?”

“I have seen you riding in the streets, my lord Duke.”

“Do not be frightened,” he said softly. “I would know your name.”

“It is Laura Dianti.”

“Laura Dianti, the bonnet-maker’s daughter,” he repeated. “I think we shall be friends.”

They had reached the little house. She pushed open the door. It was dark inside.

“There is no one at home,” she said. “My mother is at the house of a lady, making a bonnet.…”

“So much the better,” laughed Alfonso.

He laid hold of her. She was unresisting, earthy, the woman he needed to make him forget his frustrated anger against Lucrezia.

He was well content; and so it seemed was Laura Dianti, the bonnet-maker’s daughter.


* * *

Lucrezia soon recovered from her miscarriage. There was so much now to make her gay. Cesare was a free man; she had constantly believed so firmly in his destiny, so godlike had he always seemed to her, that she was inwardly convinced that he would now achieve all his desires.

When a few of the younger Cardinals rode into Ferrara from the suite of Julius which was now installed in neighboring Bologna, Lucrezia was as lively as she had been since she came to Ferrara. She forgot Alfonso’s threats because, surrounded by Cardinals, she was reminded of the old days in Rome; and the homage these men paid her made her feel young and important again.

Francesco was passing through Ferrara once more, and this time she was determined that there should be some means of meeting privately. She began feverishly designing new dresses and spent so much time on these frivolities that Friar Raffaela da Varese, a strict priest of the Court, began preaching sermons against the wickedness of feminine vanity, and even condemned the use of cosmetics.

Lucrezia and her ladies pretended to listen to him gravely, but they ignored his warnings of hell-fire. There was gaiety in the little apartments of the balcony; and always at the side of Lucrezia was the lame poet, Ercole Strozzi.

Alfonso disliked him; he had no use for poets and, since he had ruled in his father’s place, life had gone less smoothly for Strozzi. Certain lands which had been bestowed on him by Duke Ercole had been reclaimed by Alfonso. Strozzi could have forgiven him that, but what angered him was Alfonso’s attitude toward his literary work.

Alfonso would laugh slyly when poetry was read, and there were many in the court who were ready to follow the example of the Duke.

Moreover Strozzi was a great friend of Francesco Gonzaga, and Francesco and Alfonso had never been fond of each other; now that Francesco desired Alfonso’s wife they were less likely to be so.

The proprietary attitude which Strozzi had assumed over Lucrezia, during the affair with Pietro Bembo, persisted. There was a strong bond between Strozzi and Lucrezia which neither of them understood. There was deep affection, although there had never been any suggestion of their being lovers.

Strozzi was now entirely devoted to the beautiful Barbara Torelli whom Lucrezia, when she had heard her sad story, had taken under her protection.

Strozzi was an artist; he longed to create, and because he felt a certain inadequacy in his poetry he wished to use his creative ability to mold the lives of the people he loved.

Barbara Torelli had appealed to his pity, for hers had been a very tragic story. She had been married to Ercole, one of the Bentivoglios of Bologna, the lowest sort of sensualist, in whom Barbara’s cultured manners inspired a great desire to humiliate her. He had therefore set about making her life as miserable as he possibly could and his greatest pleasure was in devising means of insulting her. There came a time when he invited a Bishop to his home and offered to rent Barbara to him for a period, for the sum of 1,000 ducats. Barbara refused to agree to the transaction; whereupon her husband told her that if she did not he would publicly accuse her of attempting to poison him. Barbara’s reply to that was to leave him. She found refuge in Mantua and stayed in a convent under the protection of Francesco Gonzaga.

It was Francesco who had made her story known, and although he could not induce Ercole Bentivoglio to return her dowry, a great deal of sympathy was aroused for Barbara.

The poetic Strozzi was deeply moved by her story; he sought her acquaintance, and her charm and dignity in adversity so moved him that he fell deeply in love with and married her. As for Barbara, she found this second Ercole such a contrast to the first that she began to return his affection, and the passionate and tender love between Ercole Strozzi and Barbara Torelli became an inspiration for many of the poets of the day.

Lucrezia had been equally moved by Barbara’s story and Strozzi’s devotion to her, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world that she should offer her protection to Barbara. So Barbara was a frequent member of Lucrezia’s circle, and Strozzi yearned to repay her and Francesco for all they had done for Barbara while at the same time he sought vengeance on Alfonso, who had not only deprived him of his property but was so uncouth that he could not appreciate his poetry.

Thus, when Francesco came to Ferrara once more, Strozzi determined to use all his ingenuity so that the lovers might meet in the intimacy they desired.

Lucrezia’s love affair with the attractive soldier blossomed under Strozzi’s care, and there were meetings between the lovers while Strozzi, Barbara and those few intimate and trusted friends made the necessary cover.

During those weeks Lucrezia began to love Francesco with the strength which came with maturity. Francesco declared his one desire was to make her happy; she believed him; and so those idyllic weeks passed.

It was night, and Cesare with his army was encamped about the Castle of Viana.

A terrible melancholy came to him as he went to the door of his tent and looked out at the starry sky. There was a knowledge within him that his dreams would never be anything but dreams, that he had lived his life recklessly and had failed to see the truth, which was that all his greatness had come from his father.

Now in this little camp, the little commander in this little war was a disappointed man, a man of no account.

He, Cesare Borgia, must this tragic night see himself as he really was.

He had offered his services to his brother-in-law, the King of Navarre, and this was the task assigned to him: he must break the siege of the Castle of Viana and defeat the traitor Louis de Beaumont. It might be, if he could prove that he was still the same Cesare Borgia who had struck terror into the hearts of so many during the lifetime of his father, that he would yet get the help he needed to win back his kingdom.