Free Light on Lucrezia by Jean Plaidy Page A

not come from the Devil but from God.
    Alfonso would never forget the return from that hunt, the joy of ridinginto Rome in pale February sunshine and seeing Lucrezia on the balcony watching for their approach.
    She ran down to greet them and stood among them, slender and golden-haired, for two months’ pregnancy was not apparent; and there, among the stags and wild goats and other booty of that hunt, he embraced his wife with tenderness and delight which brought tears to the eyes of the Pope and his Cardinals.
    Alfonso had cried out: “I am happy … happy to be home.”
    And he marveled, realizing what he was now calling his home was that City to which, but a short while ago, he had come with no little dread.

     
    She had missed him, she told him when they were alone. She had been counting the hours to his return.
    “Did you ever believe there could be happiness such as this?” asked Alfonso.
    “No,” she told him. “I did not believe it.” It was true, for during her love affair with Pedro Caldes she had always known that they could never enjoy delights such as this. She had dreamed of a small house far from Rome in which she, Pedro and their child would live; she had known that if she had gained her happiness with Pedro she would have lost much of that which she shared with her father. Now she had lost nothing. She was completely happy; she was sure that when her baby was born she would cease to dream about that other child who had once been as much to her as the one she now carried.
    She said to Alfonso: “No, I did not think there could be such happiness, but now I believe there can be even greater happiness than this. That will be on the day when I hold our child in my arms.”
    They lay sleeping, arms entwined; and in their sleep they looked like two innocent children.

     
    The next day brought realization to Lucrezia of what a flimsy thing happiness could be.
    Sanchia came to her apartments in the morning.
    “It is going to be a sunny day,” she said. “We should prepare for the journey to the vineyards of Cardinal Lopez.”
    Lucrezia remembered. Last night the Cardinal had issued the invitation to the ladies, and they had accepted joyfully.
    “Why,” said Sanchia, “pregnancy suits you, Lucrezia. You look more beautiful than you did two months ago.”
    “It is happiness that suits me,” Lucrezia answered.
    “You are not disappointed in my little brother?” Sanchia asked.
    “You know my feelings for him.”
    “Take care of him, Lucrezia. Take care of him when Cesare comes home.”
    “You have news of Cesare?”
    “I know that he is not going to marry Carlotta, but I knew that before he went.”
    Lucrezia smiled sadly at her sister-in-law. Sanchia had been jealous, she knew, and she was sorry for Sanchia’s unhappiness.
    Sanchia said fiercely: “He went in October. It is now February. Yet he remains unmarried. I tell you this, Lucrezia: Cesare is nothing more than a hostage of the French. The bonds are silken, shall we say, but they are nevertheless bonds. Why does Cesare not marry? Because the King of France wishes to keep him in France!”
    “You mean he is so attached to Cesare …”
    Sanchia laughed. “Do you think the whole world loves your brother as you do? No! The King of France is planning an attack on Italy, and if he holds the Pope’s beloved son as hostage he can be sure that he will be free from Papal interference when he makes the attack.”
    “Cesare … a hostage!”
    “Why not? He was once before, remember. He escaped at Velletri and thus inflicted humiliation on the French which they will not easily have forgotten. Mayhap they remember it still.”
    “But the King of France greatly honors my brother. We constantly hear of the entertainments he gives for his pleasure.”
    Sanchia put her face close to Lucrezia’s and whispered: “One of those who accompanied Cesare to France has written that the honors paid to Cesare are like those paid to Christ on Palm Sunday,