Adriana came in to say that Donna Isabella was coming up to Lucrezia’s apartments ostensibly to bid her good morning but in reality to study her face for what was called signs of “the battle with the husband.” With her came her brothers and some of their young attendants.
Lucrezia knew that, cheated of their horseplay and crude jokes last night, they were determined to enjoy them this morning.
She cried out: “Lock the doors. They shall not come in.”
Adriana looked at her questioningly. “Lock the doors against Donna Isabella and Donna Elizabetta?”
“Certainly,” said Lucrezia. “Make haste and lock all doors.”
So they came and called to her, but she would not let them in.
Isabella, fuming against the arrogance of the upstart Borgia who dared lock an Este door against her, was forced to go away, vowing that she would be revenged.
* * *
In his castle beside the Mincio, Francesco Gonzaga read accounts of the wedding.
From his wife Isabella he heard that Lucrezia was quite pleasant to look at but far from the beauty they had been led to expect. The poor girl looked wan and fatigued when she arrived, and was a great disappointment to all who beheld her. She would have been well-advised to have made her entry into Ferrara after dark. She would have looked so much more charming by the flare of torches.
One of his wife’s ladies wrote in similar strain, stressing Ferrara’s disappointment with the girl, who had turned out to be quite plain after being heralded as a beauty. “It would have been so much better if she had not defied the clear light of day. Everywhere one heard the comment: ‘Compare her with Donna Isabella! There is true beauty. And her garments lack the style and dazzling delight of those of Donna Isabella.’ ”
But Francesco heard reports from other quarters which were not inspired by the malice of his dominating wife.
“Lucrezia Borgia is very pretty indeed; her eyes are light in color and adorable. Her hair is as golden as it is said to be. She is full of vitality, yet serene withal. And although she might appear to be a little too slender this but adds to her grace. She is extremely fragile, wholly feminine and a delight to look upon.”
Francesco grimaced when he read that.
He was remembering the young girl he had met when she was in her early teens. He recalled her dainty charm. He was glad that she was beautiful. He hoped she would prove a match for Isabella.
* * *
During the next few days Lucrezia realized the depth of that enmity which Isabella felt toward her, and it seemed to her that her only friends were those women she had brought with her. Ferrante and Sigismondo were charming to her, but Ferrante was frivolous and Sigismondo was very much under the influence of his family. Duke Ercole had not wanted the match and was anxiously counting the cost of feeding the wedding guests; he was amazed by Borgia extravagance and ready to listen to Isabella’s stories concerning his new daughter-in-law. She might have expected support from Alfonso, but uxorious as he was for part of the night, he was indifferent during the day and seemed scarcely aware of his wife. Lucrezia realized that if she asked for his support against his sister she would receive scant sympathy from him. His thoughts were on his foundry; all she had to concern herself about was getting with child. Alfonso had a horror of sterile women; he could not rid himself of the idea that he was virile enough to overcome infertility, and his favorite mistresses were his fruitful ones.
It was, on the whole, a hostile household, and Lucrezia was glad of her experience and upbringing which was helping her to steel herself against it, and to produce a mood almost of indifference.
She rose late, which was a habit Isabella deplored. She refused to be roused to anger, since she realized that it was her serenity which infuriated Isabella almost as much as her beauty and good taste in clothes.
Each day Lucrezia appeared among the guests in some dazzling gown of her own design which, brilliant as it was, accentuated her elegance; and beside her Isabella seemed coarse and overdressed.
Isabella, furious, determined to discountenance Lucrezia, and during the performance of a comedy, Miles Gloriosus, Isabella began to titter, and her attendants—who always sprang slavishly to do her bidding—joined in the tittering so that it was impossible to hear the actors speak. This was meant as an insult to Lucrezia, for the play was being given in her honor.
Lucrezia sat upright during the performance, looking at the players as though she was unaware of the disturbance.
And, when on the next night the somewhat bawdy Casina was performed, Isabella declared herself to be so shocked by the choice of the play that she would not allow her women (who were notorious for their lechery) to see it; so again Lucrezia sat through the play laughing heartily at the parts which would have amused her father, and seeming quite unaware of Isabella’s disapproval.
But Lucrezia was unhappy, understanding how her sister-in-law was determined to hate her. Her father or Cesare would have gone wholeheartedly into the battle; they would have sought victory over Isabella. Not so Lucrezia, who longed to be loved and had no wish to be anyone’s enemy.
There was yet another disturbing element. Isabella was giving Lucrezia’s Spanish dwarfs costly materials, velvets and brocades, from which garments could be made. She knew how vain the dwarfs were; they were continually longing to wear clothes as fine as their mistress. This, Isabella pointed out to them, they could do; and there would be more presents for them if they would shout “Long live Donna Isabella” instead of “Long live Donna Lucrezia.”
A few days after the wedding Lucrezia declared that she would spend the day in her own apartments, as her hair must be washed and there were letters to be written. Isabella was delighted, for this gave her a chance to win the French ambassador to her side.
She invited him to dinner; she played the lute and sang to him; and before he left she took off one of her scented gloves and gave it to him.
Philippe de la Roche Martin was susceptible, and Isabella was considered to be a very beautiful woman.
This would teach the sly creature to shut herself away, washing her hair! thought Isabella grimly. She was determined to parade her triumph that evening at the ball of torches.
During such balls each lady carried a torch which she gave to her partner of the evening and, when Lucrezia appeared, her hair freshly golden and her eyes sparkling with that vitality which was entirely her own because it was so serene, she looked more delightful than ever in her favorite morello and gold lined with ermine.
She had heard from Angela, who was turning out to be a perfect and reliable little spy for her mistress, of Isabella’s encounter with the French ambassador, and she knew that Isabella was determined to lure him from her. So, with a charming smile she handed her torch to Philippe de la Roche Martin, and after such a gesture the gallant Frenchman was so charmed that he had eyes only for Lucrezia, seeming scarcely aware of Isabella’s presence, and all were declaring that at last Lucrezia had scored a victory over her rival.
Thereafter Lucrezia kept the Frenchman at her side, which was a triumph indeed, as the French were more feared than any and it was important for all to be on good terms with Louis’ ambassador.
The French were subtle; one could never be sure what meaning lurked behind their words and actions. Even those wedding presents which Philippe de la Roche Martin brought from his master seemed to have some subtlety attached to them for those who could understand the dry humor of the King of France. There was an engraving of St. Francis on a gold medal for the Duke; was that meant to imply: What a pious man is Duke Ercole! Here is an image of St. Francis for him to pray to, but if there is one thing he admires as much as the saints it is gold. For Lucrezia there was a rosary of golden beads, but when these beads were opened they were seen to contain musk. Did that mean: She is outwardly demure but what lies within? For Alfonso there was a recipe for casting cannon and a figure in gold of Mary Magdalene. Was Louis slyly reminding the bridegroom of the scandals he had heard concerning his brid
e?
With the French no one could be sure. That was why it was necessary to be on good terms with the French King’s ambassador. That was why Angela, Adriana, Nicola and all those whom Lucrezia had brought with her rejoiced, and Isabella and the rest of the Ferrarese looked on in dismay.
* * *
The celebrations went on. Each day there was some spectacle to be witnessed. Each day Isabella in company with Elizabetta planned some fresh insult for Lucrezia, each day Lucrezia realized more and more how difficult it was going to be to live in harmony with her relations.
Alfonso continued passionate by night, indifferent by day; Duke Ercole continued to count the cost; letters went to and fro between Rome and Ferrara, but no one yet dared tell the Pope that his daughter had her enemies in the Este stronghold.
The Ferrarese were now being deliberately insulting to Lucrezia, laughing at her as she passed, mocking her graceful walk and her beautiful clothes. She gave no sign at the time that she noticed their rudeness, but she told those ladies who had been selected by Duke Ercole to be her attendants that she had no more use for them and refused to allow them into her apartments. She remained in bed during the greater part of the morning, chatting with her ladies, discussing dresses, attending to her toilet; in her imperturbable way she was behaving as she would in her home at Santa Maria in Portico.
She appeared at the balls and banquets serenely lovely. Once at a ball her own ladies played Spanish tunes on their lutes and, selecting one of the very pretty girls who had come with her to Ferrara, Lucretia danced with her, their skirts whirling, the castanets in their hands; and so enchanted was the company that there was a hushed silence all about them, and Isabella’s attempts to start a conversation on some entirely different subject were defeated.
When the dancing was over, and the applause ringing out, Angela demanded of Isabella: “Do you not think Madonna Lucrezia dances like an angel, Donna Isabella?”
“An angel? I was thinking of a Spanish gypsy. Donna Lucrezia dances with fire and spirit, as I hear they do.”
Angela was furious, but Giulio was beside her, laying a restraining hand on her arm.
There was talk and laughter throughout the company—and Angela cried to Giulio: “Are you all afraid of her … this sister of yours?”
But Lucrezia was sitting back in her chair, while one of her Spaniards fanned her. She was smiling, as though she had not understood the malice behind Isabella’s remarks.
That night Alfonso and Giulio danced together for the enjoyment of the company, and later Alfonso played his viol.
It was strange to see his somewhat clumsy fingers, the foundry grime still on them, making such music. Lucrezia began to wonder then whether there was a side to her husband which she had not yet discovered.
* * *
Isabella would soon return to Mantua, and she was determined that she must leave some lasting memory of her visit behind for Lucrezia.
She sought out her father. Ercole was pondering over his accounts.
“Do you know, daughter,” he said, “that there are still more than four hundred guests in the castle? What do you think it costs me to feed them?”
Isabella, never having time for other people’s problems, ignored the question.
“Your daughter-in-law will make Este into a Spanish Court before she has been here long.”
“She will do no such thing,” retorted Ercole.
“And how can you be sure?”
“Because I would never permit it.”
“It will creep in subtly before you realize it. Oh, she is so calm, so smug. There are no tantrums with Madonna Lucrezia. She merely looks like a fragile flower and says ‘I want this. I want that.’ And because no one takes her seriously and tries to stop her she gets it.”
“I have no time for your women’s quarrels. Over four hundred guests! Calculate the food that means! And four hundred guests is not all. What of their horses?”
“Those dresses of hers are half-Spanish. All that gold. It is Spanish, I tell you. Spanish! Do you know she wears zaraguelles?”
“What is that?”
“Zaraguelles. Those silk pantaloons, all richly embroidered. She wears them beneath her dresses. It is a Spanish custom. It should be stopped. Father, you will have no peace with that woman and her Spanish attendants.”
“Oh, let her be and help me devise a means of ridding myself of these guests who are making of me a poor man.”
“Father, if you sent away her Spanish attendants you would have fewer mouths to feed. She has too many attendants.”
The Duke was thoughtful, and Isabella smiled. She had made her point.
The loss of her friends was going to hurt Lucrezia more than any of the pin-pricks which Isabella had been able to inflict. She wished she could rob Lucrezia of her more intimate circle—that watchful Adriana, sly Nicola and the saucy Angela. But to go so far as that would certainly bring down the wrath of the Pope. For the moment she must content herself with banishing the Spaniards.
She wrote to Francesco telling him that she was tired of Ferrara and was longing for Mantua. She wished to be with her husband and her little son Federico.
Reading the letter Francesco laughed.
He guessed that the young Lucrezia was holding her own against Isabella, and wondered why he should feel so pleased.
* * *
At last the ceremonies came to an end and the guests began to depart. The ambassadors came to make their farewell speeches to Lucrezia, but Isabella contrived to be present with Elizabetta, and it was she who answered them, Elizabetta following her, although the thanks and good wishes of the ambassadors had been directed at Lucrezia.
Lucrezia did not attempt to stop them, but when they were over she offered a few modest and well-chosen words as though she had not been ousted from her rightful place.
The ambassadors thought her meek and nervous, but there were some among them who believed that she considered the open animosity of her sister-in-law too foolish for her attention.
These too were Lucrezia’s thoughts; she was also reminding herself that Isabella had a home in Mantua. She could not desert that forever. And it was a happy day when Isabella and her retinue set out for Mantua. Lucrezia could not hide her pleasure.
But, as she went on her way, Isabella was smiling, well satisfied; she knew her parsimonious father would soon deprive Lucrezia of her Spanish attendants, and that Lucrezia’s patience was going to be strained to the limit by life in Ferrara.
VI
IN THE LITTLE ROOMS OF THE BALCONY
W hen the guests had departed Lucrezia relinquished the apartments in which she had lived in state and prepared to settle in the “little rooms of the balcony” (gli camerini del poggiolo) which had been reserved for her own special use.
She examined them in the company of Angela and Nicola, and all three were delighted with the cozy intimacy of the place. Here, Lucrezia realized, she could shut herself away from the main castle, receive her friends and make of the rooms a little corner of Rome in Ferrara.
Angela bounced on the bed to test it and as she did so there came the sound of tearing material. She saw that the bed covering had split; she touched it and tore it still further.
“It is perished,” she said. “It must be hundreds of years old.” She looked at her hands black with dirt; the grime of years was on them.
Lucrezia pulled back the coverlet. The sheets, she found, when she touched them, might have been made of paper.
“It is as though they made my bed a hundred years ago and it has been waiting for me all this time!”
Nicola had shaken the velvet hangings and a cloud of dust emerged to hang in the air.
“They are in tatters,” she cried.
In despair Lucrezia sat down on a stool and the brocade on its seat split as she did so.
“So these are the little rooms which Duke Ercole so magnanimously gives me,” she said.
“It is characteristic of your welcome,” cried Angel
a. “Lavish enough on the surface, full of enmity beneath. If I were you, cousin, I would go at once to your miserly father-in-law and demand to know what he means by giving you such miserable quarters in his castle.”
Lucrezia shook her head. “I doubt that would do me any good.”
“I should write at once to the Holy Father,” suggested Nicola. “He will send orders that you be decently housed.”
“I wish to live in peace,” explained Lucrezia. “If I complain of this it will only make trouble. No. We will strip off these ancient furnishings and put new ones in their place. We’ll have it gay and brilliant. We’ll have upholstery in morello and gold, and until it is finished I shall go back to the apartments I have occupied so far.”
“So you will do it at your own expense?” murmured Nicola.
“My dear Nicola, how else could I get what I want in Ferrara?”
Angela took Lucrezia’s hand and kissed it. “You look like an angel,” she said, “and verily I believe you must be one. Your husband spends his days and half his nights with other women; yet you greet him with a smile when he visits you. Your father-in-law insults you by offering you the dust and grime of ages, and you smile sweetly and say you will refurnish your apartments at your own expense. As for that demon, Isabella d’Este, your sister-in-law, she behaves to you like a fiend, and you behave—outwardly at least—as though you respect her. Nicola, what do you think of my cousin? Is she not an angel?”
“I think,” said Nicola, “that she is wise, and when you have to live on Earth it is doubtless better to be wise than an angel.”
“I trust I am wise,” said Lucrezia. “I have a strong feeling within me that I have need of wisdom.”
While she was making her plans for the little rooms of the balcony she received the first blow.
Light on Lucrezia Page 23