Futile Flame Read online

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ he whispered, and his voice trembled.

  I hurried from the library and the corridor was filled with empty, shuttered, laughing eyes instead of closed doors. The next day, the evidence and stains of my defilement was washed away in the laundry of the Palazzo. That day the innocent child died and Caesare’s sexual obsession with me began.

  Chapter 4 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Guilt

  Caesare avoided me at first. Our relationship had never been close, but I knew he must share the guilt I felt. What had happened between us was wrong and it could never occur again. A return to any form of normality was unlikely, although we had to exist in the same home and at least be pleasant to each other in front of everyone else.

  At dinner one evening, some weeks later, I found him staring at me, a peculiar look in his eyes. I quickly averted mine. The teasing between us had stopped completely now. He no longer made remarks to get a rise out of me. I was surprised that no one else noticed. Life in the Borgia world was the same to everyone but me.

  ‘You would not believe the things I am asked for,’ Father said, pointing his knife down the table at his mistress Guila Farnese, who had long since replaced my mother, Giovanna Dei Cattani, and I had lived in her household for three years now.

  Guila was sweet and pretty and always kind, even when Father was not present. For this I was always grateful to her.

  ‘Do tell us, my love,’ Guila smiled at Father.

  ‘Today a peasant woman in the street during my march...’ He chewed a piece of beef fervently before continuing. ‘... shouts to me, “bless me with children”. Guila, the woman was a hag,’ he laughed. ‘No miracle in the world could even bless her with a husband.’

  I laughed at this, as I did all of Father’s stories, as I glanced around the table to see the reaction of others. Caesare still stared at me. My smile froze. His eyes raped me. His expression burnt me. He was captivated by the laughter that choked in my throat.

  ‘Did you give her a blessing, Father?’ I forced my smile back in place, and turned my head back to face my Father.

  ‘Well, I waved my hands above her, but I wouldn’t insult our good Lord by asking him to allow this witch to produce hideous offspring.’

  ‘Father, have you thought anymore about Luci’s marriage?’

  Caesare enquired and the smile fell from my Father’s face.

  ‘You know that at some time she must be wed, Caesare. We don’t want our darling girl to be left unmarried now do we?’

  ‘She is still very young though, Father. Surely there’s no need to hurry? There may yet be better matches to be made.’

  I looked intently at my brother as he argued my case for me. Clearly there were advantages to the change in our relationship and I couldn’t help the surge of gratitude that blossomed inside my chest like a morning daisy, full of hope that the sun will shine. It waited, hoping to grow and be free of the burden of roots.

  ‘That may be true. However, you must trust that I have it on high authority that this is a good match. Lucrezia is a desirable prospect now. She is young, strong, healthy and beautiful.’

  ‘Prospect? Lucrezia is a prospect? How coldly you put it, Father. But as her brother, and the second in this household, I am naturally concerned that she is to be married to a man that none of us know. What kind of man is he? Will he be kind to her? We heard he was a Spaniard.’

  I was shocked by this revelation. It had never occurred to me that the man might not be kind to me, and I had never considered his origins, because all along I had believed that Father would again change his mind.

  ‘I know him,’ Father answered, ‘and I can manipulate this to my own needs.’

  He turned to me then, his brown eyes serious and firm.

  ‘Sometimes we must do what duty requires of us, Lucrezia. And that duty may not always be pleasant for a woman. But at least he is a young man and this may make you feel a little reassured.’

  ‘But, Father,’ Caesare interrupted. ‘He is Spanish! How can any of us bear the thought of losing her overseas?’ Caesare’s eyes were raw as he met my wide-eyed stare. His voice grew soft as he spoke. ‘How can you imagine never seeing Luci? Waking in the morning, knowing her smile will be given elsewhere and may never grace our table, our drawing room, our lives, again.’

  I felt hypnotised by his words. I heard a passion in them that both frightened and excited me. For a moment he stared at me across the table and I felt caught in his gaze, unable to break the contact.

  Father slammed his hand down on the table, violating the spell Caesare had me under. Silence deafened me. I was aware that we were all looking to the head of the table waiting for his response. Waiting as if for judgement. I wondered briefly if he had noticed the change in my brother then. Father was worldly wise, maybe he could tell that we had sinned. My cheeks reddened with guilt as my Father’s eyes flicked from one to the other of us.

  ‘It is the last I will say on the matter, Caesare. My will is law in this household and in all of Rome. I will not be questioned.’ His voice was firm but barely above a whisper and we knew that when he spoke this way he was at his most furious.

  Caesare knew better than to enrage Father further and he fell silent. His eyes flicked briefly in my direction and seemed both pained and angry. We continued eating as a family: solid and united under our Father’s rule, even when his rule went against our own wishes and needs. Father was Pope. He was the law. He had ultimate power over us as the head of our household. And I, as a woman, had even less say. The law would uphold his right to marry me to anyone he chose. If I refused I could be cast out on the streets to an unknown fate. Until that moment refusal had never even occurred to me. After all, this was sixteenth century

  Rome and no woman went against her husband or father. I imagined the possible consequences; my Father’s raised hand coming down across my face. I saw myself thrown out into the courtyard dressed in rags. I shuddered as any hope of freedom crumbled away and died. I envisaged myself as a daisy, failing to flourish as ice-cold rain beat it down into the mud.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Guila asked kindly.

  ‘No.’ I shook my head, my gaze flicking to my Father as he ate enthusiastically, clearly giving me no more thought. I had lost my appetite.

  ‘You may use my shawl if you like.’

  I met her eyes and for the first time I beheld sympathy. Guila had always been pleasant to me, but somewhat distant. She wasn’t my mother and had never made any attempt to replace her. However, she loved my Father and had at least tried to care for us. She, as a woman, also knew what the rule of a lover or husband meant. She was, although willing, as much a prisoner of her destiny as I.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  She smiled at me and I looked down at my plate feeling even more certain that the marriage would happen. Her behaviour was a further sign of my fate being sealed. I placed my fork down and took a sip of wine. I didn’t want to marry. I was afraid. What if my new husband knew on our wedding night that his bride was not a virgin? How would I ever explain that to my Father? I looked again at Father as he scooped a few more pieces of meat onto his plate and consumed several glasses of wine as he ate. He was oblivious to my fears. Or maybe he just didn’t care. A daughter could be an asset and a burden. The right marriage was the ultimate goal. If he believed that this was the right match, then it was decided.

  Dinner ended and Guila and I stood, curtseying to Father. Then I followed Guila out of the dining room.

  ‘Thank you for trying,’ I whispered, as I passed Caesare who stood respectfully as we left the room.

  He looked into my eyes, his expression unfathomable. ‘Let’s go riding tomorrow morning, Luci.’

  I left the room without further comment as the brandy decanter was opened and the men began to talk politics. I felt, as I always did in those moments, intensely curious. Their intellectual conversations interested me far more than sitting in the drawing room sewing with Guila. Being sent
away always annoyed me, and I often wondered what discussions I had missed. The mystery of men was already drawing me closer, yet I recognised the imbalance of a woman’s place in the world, and that I was powerless to argue or protest. Therefore if my Father wanted me to marry, then I would have to. Maybe my brother could help to persuade him. I was infinitely grateful that Caesare had at least tried to help and it never occurred to me that there might be a price to pay.

  Chapter 5 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Incest

  I met him in the courtyard. He stood patiently holding the reins of both of our horses. I noted the absence of the groom, couldn’t fathom it. It was not how Caesare usually prepared for his morning ride. Often there were several menservants in tow.

  ‘We aren’t hunting today then, brother?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  He held out his hand to steady me as I stepped up onto a low stool and mounted my horse. My side-saddle was made of the softest leather and had been a present from Father some months previous. Straightening my riding habit to cover my legs, I became aware that Caesare was watching me. I covered my bare ankle quickly and reached for the reins but he held them fast for a moment forcing me to stare into his eyes.

  ‘Luci...’

  The intensity of his expression worried me and I began to feel that riding with him was a very bad idea.

  ‘Caesare, I do not feel inclined to go riding now after all.’

  His hand on my waist stayed any attempt to dismount.

  ‘Of course you do,’ he answered simply. ‘I have a beautiful picnic organised for us in a lovely spot just outside the city. You surely won’t allow the provisions to go to waste, will you? With all the poverty we see in the streets, it is hardly a Christian thing to do, is it? And I need to speak with you about Father’s plans.’

  His eyes became veiled as he released my reins. He turned and gracefully mounted his horse. I felt I could do nothing more than follow him as he spurred his horse on out of the courtyard and into the busy street outside.

  Caesare rode for the south gate, barely glancing back to see if I followed. Little did I know that this was the first of many adventures I would allow him to take me on. We galloped at break-neck speed and, as we approached the gate, the watch recognised us and waved us through without hesitation. I found myself racing over the countryside in pursuit of my wild older brother. The race sped up my heart and the recklessness of his behaviour did, as always, inspire me to urge my horse on behind him.

  It was a hot day. The sun shone unrelenting. It felt good to be outside, feeling the wind whip through my hair and over my face, warm but cooling. Even the heavy clothing I wore felt light as my horse, Paradiso, galloped. I felt the tensions of the past few weeks flow away with the breeze. All would be fine. Caesare would help me convince Father not to force this marriage on me, and Father would see that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

  On the main stretch we passed a peasant leading an old horse pulling a cart laden with bales of hay. The man stopped when he saw us and bowed, his eyes cast down. Caesare glared at him as though contemplating punishment but then spurred his horse onwards and I followed as we galloped faster still. I glanced back briefly at the man. He had fallen to his knees and was trembling as though he had narrowly missed losing his soul to the Devil.

  Caesare slowed after we had been riding hard for over half an hour. I felt fatigued but invigorated and reining in, I noticed that both our horses were foaming slightly at the mouth. They needed to drink and rest after such a hard ride.

  ‘This way,’ he said, indicating the fine forest beside us. ‘I discovered a beautiful clearing here a few days ago. There’s a stream running through it.’

  We wove in through the trees, side by side at first, and then I dropped behind him as the woodland thickened. I felt tense, my heart and breath still quickened from the ride. I patted Paradiso’s neck; she was sweating from the ride. Caesare glanced back at me, smiling and relaxed. I felt my nerves calm as I followed him deeper into the woods but inside my head was a nagging doubt that I couldn’t shake.

  The clearing was suddenly upon us. In the centre, just as he’d promised, lay a picnic cloth. It was spread out over the grass with huge cushions scattered on it. I felt reassured by the familiar faces of the servants from the house who stood by, ready to wait on us. The hamper was open and champagne was poured as we dismounted. The groom rushed forward to take the horses which he led to the stream and later tethered to the cart they’d used to bring the picnic. I immediately felt safe once more. I shook my head, smiling slightly at the thought of my suspecting Caesare of some evil design.

  ‘This looks beautiful,’ I said sitting down on the cloth. A servant rushed forward and held out a glass to me. I found that the wine was still chilled despite the heat of the day.

  ‘Yes. It does,’ Caesare replied taking a glass himself and sipping.

  I discovered I was hungry and the spread of cold meats, fruit and cheese with fresh bread made my mouth water. It felt so civilised. All provided by the family serving staff. It felt so normal.

  ‘So, you spoke to Father again last night?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Caesare’s glass was refilled. He drank from it as the servant placed the bottle down beside him and backed away. Caesare looked around at the remaining servants. ‘Leave us.’

  The groom and servants dispersed, taking with them the horses and the cart that had brought the food. I began to stand, panic surging through my head and for a moment my vision blurred as fear lunged inside my heart at the thought of being alone with him. My skirt caught in the heels of my riding boots, tripping me until I tumbled back down onto the cloth beside my brother.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked calmly. ‘I sent them away so that they cannot hear our conversation.’

  I stared at Caesare. He seemed sincere but I still remembered too well our time alone in the library. Even so, I paused in my effort to rise and waited for him to explain further.

  ‘They are devoted to Father,’ he continued. ‘It would appear disloyal if he were to learn we were plotting against him, wouldn’t it?’

  His argument was so plausible, however and so I sat down again and let my brother refill my glass.

  ‘Really Luci, you are incredibly nervous these days.’

  I flushed. I was embarrassed by my lack of trust. I swigged the champagne trying to ease my nervous state. Putting down the now-empty glass I smoothed my jacket down and tried to appear composed. Did Caesare feel we could just forget our indiscretion in the library? Maybe he felt that by helping me avoid this unexpected marriage he could make amends.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Caesare filled my glass again. ‘Don’t be. I wouldn’t trust me either.’ He laughed then and it was infectious. I laughed also, but it was nervous energy.

  As the day wore on I found myself relaxing as we talked. Leaning against the cushions I nibbled cake from the basket and watched lazily as Caesare replenished my glass once more.

  ‘I think I can persuade him to change his plans,’ he said casually.

  ‘Really? How?’ I asked, sitting up.

  ‘It won’t be easy. But I do have some pull with Father, you know. He didn’t like me challenging him in front of Guila last night though, so I need to be more subtle. After all, I really would hate it if you married the Spaniard.’

  ‘Me too. I want to marry for love.’

  Caesare laughed. ‘All young girls imagine that, Luci. It’s very rarely a reality though. Most are married for wealth and political gain.’

  ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I’m not as stupid as you might think.’

  ‘I know you’re not stupid. In fact I think you are highly intelligent. Maybe you could even be my intellectual equal, with guidance.’

  I blushed with pleasure. Caesare had never spoken to me like this before. I had always been his silly younger sister. Yet now he was treating me like an adult and speaking to me on a different level. Another bottle w
as extracted from the basket and he popped the cork, topping up both of our glasses. I felt relaxed, the sun was soothing and I lay down. Caesare reclined too, his head rested on his hand as he lay on his side watching me calmly as we talked.

  ‘It’s about time you admitted it,’ I giggled. ‘Tell me, I’ve always wanted to know...’

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you and Father talk about when we leave?’

  ‘Politics.’

  ‘Guila says that.’

  ‘Women.’

  I looked at him, surprised, and he smiled slowly, playfully.

  ‘You’re teasing me.’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Religion. But he always talks about that at some point,’ Caesare laughed. ‘And of course, we talk about family matters.’

  ‘So, you talked to Father about me last night?’

  Caesare stretched out flat on his back folding his arms under his head and gazed up into the blue sky. I tried to wait but his silence irritated me.

  ‘Well?’

  I sat up. Caesare’s eyes were closed, his mouth and face relaxed. He had fallen asleep. I lay back against a cushion, my head was spinning from the champagne and I closed my eyes, dozing a little to pass the time while I waited for him to wake and talk to me some more.

  The warm sun filtered through the trees as I drifted into a relaxed floating vision. My heart rate slowed and I slept.

  I dreamed of a lover, kissing me, stroking me as I lay stretched in his embrace. The memory of the excitement I’d felt in the library remained with me and I craved the feeling again as I opened to this mystery lover’s mouth and tongue that licked, kissed and sucked me tenderly in that sensitive spot.