Futile Flame (3 page)

The Vatican library was very impressive. I rarely visited it in those days, but was always pleased by the high and ornately decorated ceilings. The walls were covered with beautiful leather -bound books of all kinds. I’d often wanted to wander among them but was rarely allowed. I loved the shape of the room which was curved and seemed to frame the broad desk that stood in the middle. Two tapestry-covered sofas stood either side of a large, white marble fireplace, a comforting feature. And before the fire was an exquisite Persian rug, thick and plush with stunning and vibrant coloured patterns, depicting hunting warriors and square figures, feeding square animals.

‘So, why do you need Father in such a hurry?’ Behind me Caesare closed the door.

‘The marriage. I’m concerned.’

‘Ah. I am also,’ he replied, walking past me to the desk.

‘You are?’

I studied his broad shoulders as he moved back to Father’s desk. I wondered whether he was merely teasing me again. He had never taken the slightest interest in Father’s dealings with me before, other than maybe to agree with his comments. For a long time Caesare stood by the desk gazing down at an open book with barely any acknowledgement that I was there. I watched his expression. My brother was an attractive man. His features were elegant and his long pale blond hair, the same colour as mine, was tied back with a leather thong at the nape of his neck. I had given him that thong myself for his 16
th
birthday and was pleased to see he still wore it. He was dressed elegantly as always in black breeches and velvet cream coloured surcoat. He was tall, and unlike Father, he was slender. The long fingers of one hand rested on the desk beside the book as he gazed down intently at the page, while his other hand stroked the colourful image. I was intrigued. He was mesmerised. I could vaguely make out patterns and shapes on the page from my position near the main door. I took a step towards him then halted, feeling strangely uncomfortable about intruding.

‘What do you want to show me?’ Apprehension caused the hairs to stand up on my arms and neck as he turned his attention back towards me.

His eyes were strange. Heated in a way I couldn’t understand. They shone with a mysterious excitement. He walked towards me, stopped, looked into my eyes and I quickly looked down. They were too intense. Then he walked around me and turned the lock in the library door. I shivered.

‘This,’ his voice was cheerful, but forced.

He took my hand and led me back towards the study desk. Here lay a vast and exquisite book. It was open somewhere in the middle and even close up I still could not make sense of the images until Caesare twisted it around to face me, waving me forward, so that I could see the picture he had been looking at. The illustration was beautiful. A man and woman, embracing. Exotic colourful clothing dripped from the top half of their bodies. The woman’s legs were wrapped around the man as he kneeled between her thighs. Her breasts were bare. I gasped.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

Excitement mingled with shock as I involuntarily stepped forward.

‘It’s a very special book. One that Father paid a small fortune for.’

‘They are half naked.’

‘Yes.’

I found myself drawn to the image. Scrutinized it carefully, observed the stiff rod that protruded from the man and seemed to pierce the woman.

‘Is he hurting her?’

‘No. It’s pleasurable.’

‘Oh.’

I was fifteen. Caesare lifted my skirt.

‘Let me show you. There’s a small space, here...’ His voice, matter of fact, implied knowledge of things that I should know, things I had suspected but was unsure of. His fingers fumbled inside my underwear, pulled them down around my knees as his hand deftly pushed between my legs, making me open a little as he kneeled down at my feet. I stumbled, hand resting on his shoulder to stop myself falling. His touch made me afraid though I didn’t understand why.

‘What are you... ? I don’t think you should do that, Caesare.’

‘Haven’t you ever noticed this? Right here?’

My knees went weak.

‘Oh.’

‘See. It’s nice isn’t it? Now, just let me...’

Half pain, half pleasure paralysed me then.

‘Don’t,’ I gasped.

All the time I wanted to demand he stop, but could not force the words from my lips as his finger continued to induce a pulsing warmth inside me that made me feel wet and hot.

‘Yes. You like it don’t you?’ His voice sounded thick and husky.

I shuddered and trembled against him. Wanting him to stop but hoping he wouldn’t, until this mystery was complete, this pleasure fulfilled. A wave curled up from my loins, stretching out, spreading through my small breasts as I fell onto his hand, spasms clenching inside me and my first orgasm poured over his fingers. My knees gave out. Caesare caught me and lay me beneath him, withdrawing his hand as the last pulses rocked through my body.

‘Oh. Luci...’ he moaned, pressing his lower body against mine.

He pushed my legs apart as he fumbled with his breeches. I felt insensible. Lay helpless beneath him and only when I felt him press hard against me did I react and pull away.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Giving you some more pleasure.’

‘No, Caesare. Stop it! It hurts. Don’t.’

His lips pressed down on mine, silencing me as he positioned himself more securely between my thighs. I felt trapped, unable to move as he held my flailing arms down above my head. For a moment he held my hands one handed as he reached down, but it wasn’t his fingers I felt this time. I squirmed, trying to break free, twisting my head away from his lips.

‘Caesare, Stop it!’

But then it was too late as he ground his pelvis into mine and an agonising pain shot through my loins. I felt something rip. I thought he was tearing me up inside. I tried to scream but his lips found mine again, forcing them apart and my cries were muffled and lost inside his mouth. I struggled against him, biting his lip until he yelped and cuffed me against the side of my head. I was numbed, shocked into stillness. The pain in my head and body receded until I lay like a broken doll beneath him. His heavy breath matched his pace. I lay, dazed, afraid and unable to fight as I was raped and corrupted in the library of St Peter’s. The agonising pain left me numb and cold as my virgin blood leaked onto the back of my skirt.

When he cried my name against my bruised lips I knew I could never tell anyone that my brother had defiled me. It was my fault. I let him touch me. I let him give me pleasure. I’d willingly looked at Father’s book, even though I’d realised immediately that it was corrupt. I’d encouraged him. He was a man and I’d been warned of male lust.

‘Luci.’

I didn’t move.

‘Luci. Get up. Straighten your clothes and then go back to the house and clean yourself.’ Caesare kneeled above me, worry furrowing his brow as he stared into my dulled eyes.

‘Caesare...’

‘Come on. Before Father returns.’

‘I wanted to see Father.’

‘Yes. I know. But not now, not like this.’

I let him pull me to my feet. I caught sight of my dishevelled state in the mirror across the wall behind the desk. My previously coiffured hair was tumbling down at the back and my lips were red and swollen from the way my brother had kissed me. My clothing was creased. It was all evidence that I was shameless, a whore.

I picked up my dress and ran to the door, numbly pulling on the handle but it wouldn’t open. Caesare stopped my frantic movement with one hand, calmly turning the key.

‘Back to the house and go to your room. You need to lie down and sleep. Then you’ll be fine, Luci,’ he told me as he ran his hands through his hair.

‘You...’

I stared at him, he looked calm, unruffled. Somehow he had fastened his breeches and there was no external evidence that he had sinned with me. Nothing at all showed on his clothing or his expression. As I pulled open the door he stopped me again. Yanking me into his embrace Caesare held me to him. Afraid to refuse I stood in his arms until eventually he let go.

‘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

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.