was a constant visitor.
Lucrezia and Alfonso now had their own little court, and there was gaiety in the apartments in Santa Maria in Portico. Alfonso and Lucrezia had discovered a mutual love of music and poetry, and their encouragement of poets and musicians meant that an intellectual group was beginning to form about them.
One day Sanchia came to their
soirée
bringing Cardinal Ascanio Sforza with her.
Lucrezia received him graciously but she was surprised to see him in the company of Sanchia, for the enmity between Milan and Naples was of long standing. Lucrezia, however, gave no indication of her feelings, and, while she was playing the lute for the Cardinal’s pleasure, Alfonso took his sister aside and asked her what had possessed her to bring Cardinal Sforza to them, for the Sforzas were not only the enemies of the Aragonese but one of them had been Lucrezia’s first husband, and in view of the slander he had spread about her, it seemed tasteless to bring a relative of his here as a guest.
Sanchia smiled affectionately at her brother, as she explained: “Alfonso, you love Lucrezia dearly, and Lucrezia loves you. You are happy and at peace. Have you forgotten your feelings as you rode into Rome not so long ago?”
“That was before I knew Lucrezia.”
“It was not only Lucrezia you feared.”
“The Pope has been my good friend, and Cesare is no longer here.”
“The Pope’s moods are variable, brother, and Cesare will not remain forever in France. He plans to marry our cousin Carlotta. And when he has done so, he will return.”
Alfonso shook his head impatiently. He was loath to have his pleasure spoilt, and the thought of Cesare’s return could spoil it. “He’ll not be allowed to marry Carlotta.”
“No,” cried Sanchia. “But he’ll be back, and when he comes, mayhap he’ll bring the French with him. Alfonso, have you forgotten our flight to Ischia? Do you remember our return to Naples? Do you remember what we saw … the tales we heard? If the French come, that will happen again and Cesare Borgia might well march with them, the ally of the French.”
“The Borgias against Naples …”
“Against Naples and Milan, and all Italy. They are treacherous, and Cesare does not love you, brother.”
“Oh, forget him. Mayhap he’ll have an accident in France. I cannot believe the French will love him.”
“You are not a child, Alfonso. Face the truth. We have to stand against Cesare. Naples, Milan … and as many states as we can find to help us. That is why Ascanio Sforza comes to these apartments. He is our new friend and there will be others. Alfonso, this shall be their meeting place. Here, while there is dancing and music and reading of poetry, we shall gather our friends together and we shall be firm and ready should the time come when it is necessary to break the Borgian and French alliance.”
“These are politics,” murmured Alfonso. “I dislike them. Why should there be this talk of war and fighting when there are poetry and music and love?”
“Idiot brother!” chided Sanchia. “If you will continue to enjoy the good things of life you must learn to protect them.”
Alfonso was frowning. He did not want to think of unpleasantness, yet Sanchia’s words reminded him of all he had feared as he had ridden along the road to Rome.
“And what think you His Holiness will say when he knows that men and women assemble here, not to talk of music and poetry, but of politics … dangerous politics?”
“Why should he know?”
“Because he might be here when such things are talked of.”
“We would not be so foolish as to talk of them when he was here.”
“His spies would carry tales to him.”
“That is where we shall outwit him. We shall tell our secrets only to those who are with us. That is why we must be careful with Lucrezia. She would be loyal always to the Pope and her brother. That family have a devotion to each other which would be past belief if we
Lucrezia and Alfonso now had their own little court, and there was gaiety in the apartments in Santa Maria in Portico. Alfonso and Lucrezia had discovered a mutual love of music and poetry, and their encouragement of poets and musicians meant that an intellectual group was beginning to form about them.
One day Sanchia came to their
soirée
bringing Cardinal Ascanio Sforza with her.
Lucrezia received him graciously but she was surprised to see him in the company of Sanchia, for the enmity between Milan and Naples was of long standing. Lucrezia, however, gave no indication of her feelings, and, while she was playing the lute for the Cardinal’s pleasure, Alfonso took his sister aside and asked her what had possessed her to bring Cardinal Sforza to them, for the Sforzas were not only the enemies of the Aragonese but one of them had been Lucrezia’s first husband, and in view of the slander he had spread about her, it seemed tasteless to bring a relative of his here as a guest.
Sanchia smiled affectionately at her brother, as she explained: “Alfonso, you love Lucrezia dearly, and Lucrezia loves you. You are happy and at peace. Have you forgotten your feelings as you rode into Rome not so long ago?”
“That was before I knew Lucrezia.”
“It was not only Lucrezia you feared.”
“The Pope has been my good friend, and Cesare is no longer here.”
“The Pope’s moods are variable, brother, and Cesare will not remain forever in France. He plans to marry our cousin Carlotta. And when he has done so, he will return.”
Alfonso shook his head impatiently. He was loath to have his pleasure spoilt, and the thought of Cesare’s return could spoil it. “He’ll not be allowed to marry Carlotta.”
“No,” cried Sanchia. “But he’ll be back, and when he comes, mayhap he’ll bring the French with him. Alfonso, have you forgotten our flight to Ischia? Do you remember our return to Naples? Do you remember what we saw … the tales we heard? If the French come, that will happen again and Cesare Borgia might well march with them, the ally of the French.”
“The Borgias against Naples …”
“Against Naples and Milan, and all Italy. They are treacherous, and Cesare does not love you, brother.”
“Oh, forget him. Mayhap he’ll have an accident in France. I cannot believe the French will love him.”
“You are not a child, Alfonso. Face the truth. We have to stand against Cesare. Naples, Milan … and as many states as we can find to help us. That is why Ascanio Sforza comes to these apartments. He is our new friend and there will be others. Alfonso, this shall be their meeting place. Here, while there is dancing and music and reading of poetry, we shall gather our friends together and we shall be firm and ready should the time come when it is necessary to break the Borgian and French alliance.”
“These are politics,” murmured Alfonso. “I dislike them. Why should there be this talk of war and fighting when there are poetry and music and love?”
“Idiot brother!” chided Sanchia. “If you will continue to enjoy the good things of life you must learn to protect them.”
Alfonso was frowning. He did not want to think of unpleasantness, yet Sanchia’s words reminded him of all he had feared as he had ridden along the road to Rome.
“And what think you His Holiness will say when he knows that men and women assemble here, not to talk of music and poetry, but of politics … dangerous politics?”
“Why should he know?”
“Because he might be here when such things are talked of.”
“We would not be so foolish as to talk of them when he was here.”
“His spies would carry tales to him.”
“That is where we shall outwit him. We shall tell our secrets only to those who are with us. That is why we must be careful with Lucrezia. She would be loyal always to the Pope and her brother. That family have a devotion to each other which would be past belief if we
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