by Sara Poole
Yet with each passing moment, my attitude hardened. I considered the lengths to which I had gone to save Il Papa, including risking my own life. True, he would believe that my real motivation had been to kill Morozzi but the effect was the same—Borgia lived and with him all his vast plans for la famiglia. That had to count for something.
“Are you going to tell him about Juan?” I asked as I followed Cesare up the grand stairs toward the papal office.
“What’s the point?” he replied over his shoulder. “He’ll never believe me. He’ll just think that I’m trying to undermine my brother out of jealousy. The best I can do now is make sure that he doesn’t take any of this out on you.”
I had mixed feelings about Cesare fighting my battles for me—on the one hand, I recognized that I could benefit from his help, on the other my damnable independence wished otherwise. That being the case, I kept silent as I tried to decide how best to handle the situation.
Borgia was not alone; several of his secretaries were with him, as was Renaldo, who was going down the list of events planned for the remainder of the day. When the steward saw me, he broke out in a smile so broad that I feared his face would crack. Such was the extent of his unalloyed relief at discovering me alive that I could not help wonder if, despite all evidence to the contrary, Renaldo might not have placed a side bet in favor of my surviving. In his position, I likely would have done so, for surely the odds would have been highly favorable.
With a quick nod in his direction, I concentrated my attention on Borgia. Christ’s Vicar did not appear at all pleased that one of his faithful servants remained among the living. To the contrary, he looked prepared to order me to Hades posthaste.
By all rights, I should have been filled with fear, but instead a great calm possessed me. Its source was no mystery. I had faced my greatest dread, the near certainty that I was too dark a creature to stand in the light of God. I had entered the holiest of holies and survived. Beside that, Borgia seemed scant challenge.
Even so, he made a good show of it.
“Explain yourself!” he demanded after the other men had prudently fled the room and only Cesare and I were left. “What in God’s name did you think you were doing to stage such a spectacle? We had a Mass for you, for pity’s sake! Christ weep, you truly are mad!”
“And you are alive,” Cesare shot back. He faced his father squarely and did not flinch even when Borgia purpled with anger.
“The two of you have been in league all this time,” Il Papa declared. “A faithless son and a treacherous poisoner. What have I done that God should burden me so?”
Really, how could anyone even begin to answer that? Before Christ’s Vicar could further proclaim how abused and mistreated he was, I said, “Only say the word and you will not have me to concern you any longer.”
For the second time, I had failed to avenge my father’s murder and rid the world of Morozzi because I felt compelled to save Borgia. I had wrested the job of poisoner for myself because I believed that the power it brought would enable me to kill the mad priest. So far all I had done was leave him alive to strike again.
“I will gladly resign from your service,” I declared. “Then I will be free to find Morozzi and kill him. Nothing else matters so much to me, as you should know.”
It was no idle threat; at that moment, I truly meant what I said. Despite my feelings for Cesare, the thought of being done with la famiglia held an almost irresistible appeal. They were so fiercely focused on themselves, so all-absorbing and demanding that wherever they were, they seemed to leave very little air for anyone else to breathe. I was becoming very tired of that.
“Francesca,” Cesare began. He looked appalled and I could not blame him. At the very least, I might have given him some warning. Yet surely by now he must have known not to expect such consideration from me.
Borgia, by contrast, appeared suspiciously less alarmed. He calmed enough to look me up and down, as though confirming that I truly was no ghost, then said, “Nothing else matters? Is that so? Then what about Lux?”
“What is Lux?” Cesare asked with a frown.
Borgia shrugged. “That depends on who you ask. Some would say that it is a coven of conspirators intent on using alchemical and other means to undermine Holy Mother Church and open the way for the Devil to come into the world. Others would say that it is a group of dedicated natural philosophers striving to grasp the underlying truth of God’s Creation.”
He looked at me and said, “The first explanation will get you burned. As for the second—” Again, he shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that so much in this life is a matter of interpretation.”
One thing that can be said for Borgia, I never had any difficulty understanding him even when I did not want to do so.
“You would go to such lengths to keep me in your service, despite how I deceived you?”
“Despite and because of it. As I said, you have a gift for finding fresh solutions and I have need of that, at least for the moment. Behave yourself, cause me no further upset, and you and your friends may do as you like, discreetly, of course. Otherwise—”
“That is not good enough.” Cesare sucked in his breath at my daring but I did not hesitate. If I was to be coerced into remaining with Borgia, there would be a price to pay.
Facing him squarely, I said, “You will not simply tolerate Lux, you will afford us your full protection, which means never again trying to use us to your own ends.” Before Il Papa could respond, I continued. “And that is not all. You will give me unfettered access to the Mysterium so that I may pursue my own studies and report back whatever I find to the other members of Lux.”
Borgia’s gaze narrowed. He was not a man to accept demands from anyone.
“Is there anything else you want? My papal crown, for instance, or perhaps I should vacate Saint Peter’s Throne two, no three days out of every week and let you sit there, giving out rulings on all and sundry matters?”
“No, thank you,” I said properly. I would not let him make light of my sacrifice in not going after Morozzi at once. The thought of doing so still tempted me almost unbearably, yet I knew that my father would have wanted me to protect Lux and to make the most of the extraordinary opportunity presented by the Mysterium. Was it a measure of my healing heart that I could think of his hopes for me rather than my own need for vengeance?
Reluctantly, Borgia agreed, or so it seemed. As always when I had dealings with him, I was left to wonder if he had not plotted it all out ahead of time, deciding how best to manipulate me that I could be of further service to him.
Cesare, on the other hand, seemed to believe that I had scored a great victory.
“You beat him,” he exclaimed when we had left the office and were making our way back down the grand stair. “You stood right up to him, dared him to do his worst, and you won!”
“Not precisely,” I said. “I have traded away pursuing Morozzi for what I admit are important concessions. But if I did not believe that the mad priest will be driven to strike at your father again, thereby coming once more within my reach, I would never have done so.”
He waved that off as though it were of no account but he also warned me, “Accept your victory, Francesca, and savor it, for believe me, my father will exact full price for it.”
I was left to ponder that as, after a brief, hard kiss guaranteed to scandalize everyone passing through the entry to the Curia who saw the son of Jove apparently intimo with a page boy, Cesare took himself off to prepare for the remainder of the welcoming ceremonies.
With no thought left in my head save that of a bath and bed, I made for home, ignoring the shocked whispers that accompanied me. Cesare had managed to knock my hat off as he kissed me and I had not bothered to put it on again. Without it, I was all too recognizable. Already, word was spreading that Borgia’s strega had returned from the dead.
Portia was in the loggia when I arrived. She dropped the basket she was carrying and stared at me, open-mouthed.
A moment later, I was kneeling in front of her as she flung her arms around me and hugged me fiercely.
“Praise God you truly are whole and well!” she said. “But Donna, if you ever do such a thing again, I swear by all that is holy I will—”
“If I ever plot my death again,” I assured her hastily, “you will be the first to know, I promise. Now tell me, is that chicken I smell, by any chance?”
Fed, bathed, and at rest finally in my own bed, I slept without Sofia’s powder and without nightmares. If I dreamed at all, I do not remember it, but perhaps I chose not to. I woke with thoughts of Rocco already uppermost in my mind. By all rights, I should do no more than send him a brief note apologizing for my deception, then leave the man in peace. He had every right to the chance for happiness that I was convinced Carlotta d’Agnelli could bring him. So, too, did Nando.
Imagine then my surprise when I opened the door to a knock and found an ashen-faced messenger quailing at the prospect of facing an undead witch who was, as I shortly learned, the talk of Rome.
The poor man thrust a package into my arms, declined any payment, and fled with such alacrity that I waited to make sure he did not fall headfirst down the steps before stepping back inside my apartment.
I set the package on a cleared space on my worktable and slowly unwrapped it. My breath caught when I recognized the crimson sphere streaked with gold that I had seen Rocco creating. He had crafted it into a lamp inscribed across the base with the words: Ex obscuritate lucem fers—Out of darkness, you bring light.
I did not weep, so I told myself, but I did sit for a long time, my hand on the lamp as I considered what the faith of such a man meant to me. So many struggles still lay ahead—to protect Lux, to keep Borgia alive, to deal with the matter of della Rovere and the looming threat of war, to discover whether Morozzi or someone else entirely had been behind the earlier attacks on Il Papa. Above all, I had to find a resolution within myself for the terrible darkness that still threatened to devour me. Yet on that day, sitting beside the table where I pursued my investigations, in the home of my own making, I felt the stirrings of confidence that I might, when all was said and done, come out a better person than I was.
On the cusp of that hope, I rose and lit the lamp. As the first rays from it fell upon me, my heart lightened and I smiled.
THE BORGIA BETRAYAL
by Sara Poole
About the Author
• A Conversation with Sara Poole
Behind the Novel
• Historical Timeline
• “The Hinge of History” An Original Essay by the Author
Keep on Reading
• Recommended Reading
• Reading Group Questions
For more reading group suggestions,
visit www.readinggroupgold.com.
ST. MARTIN’S GRIFFIN
A Conversation with Sara Poole
Could you tell us a little bit about your background, and when you decided that you wanted to lead a literary life?
I grew up in a family of journalists who were taken aback when, at the tender age of twelve, I announced my intent to write fiction. I immediately set about doing so and have never stopped. Along the way, I’ve worked in advertising, public relations, and publishing, but fiction has always been my lodestone drawing me home. I can’t imagine a life without it.
Is there a book that most influenced your life? Or inspired you to become a writer?
As a child, I read everything from Lewis Carroll to comic books (Little Lulu stands out in particular). I loved it all indiscriminately and gobbled up anything that fell into my hands. Somewhere along the way, I encountered Jean Plaidy in one or more of her various incarnations and became hooked on historical fiction.
What was the inspiration for The Borgia Betrayal and its heroine, Francesca?
Several years ago, I became interested in the wild plants on my doorstep that in one form or another are poisonous. One evening, I mentioned this to my family at dinner, setting off a round of teasing about what I’d put in the food. Two words popped into my head: woman poisoner. In the strange way of such things, Francesca appeared shortly thereafter, virtually fully formed. I’ve had to run to keep up with her ever since.
“Fiction has
always been
my lodestone
drawing
me home.”
The Borgia Betrayal is your second book featuring Francesca. How many books do you plan to include in the series? And how do you plot Francesca’s growth in each book?
I know where and how Francesca’s story ends, and I have a fair idea of how she gets to that point from the moment when we first meet her as a young, desperate woman about to enter the employ of la famiglia Borgia. I have a timeline of many of the important events in her life that also tracks her development as a character. Fascinating me as she does, I can easily foresee a dozen books following this mistress of the dark as she strives to bring light into her own life and her world.
How much of the writing you did for book one was based on your intention to write a sequel? How did knowing this was a series affect your writing of the first book, Poison?
In the beginning, I assumed that I was writing a single book. As a rough framework, I thought it would cover the eleven years from shortly before Rodrigo Borgia’s election as Pope Alexander VI in the summer of 1492 to his death eleven years later in 1503. I’d written about thirty thousand words when I realized I was on day four. About then I decided I was writing a series. Writing a series is significantly different from writing a single novel. Knowing that I don’t have to try to cram a sprawling, multifaceted story into one book allows me to concentrate on short, intense periods of a few weeks or a few months in which conflict—both internal and external—compels my characters to adapt and change.
Were you surprised at all by how your characters grew from Poison to The Borgia Betrayal?
Francesca surprised me a great deal. I didn’t anticipate the lengths she would go to in order to do what she regards as her duty. In this book, she takes a desperate risk that illuminates her precarious mental state but which I think also makes her realize how much she values her own life. That discovery will turn out to be very important in the third book.
Your books are part of a series, but do you think readers who are new to them necessarily need to read the books in order?
Each of the books is a standalone work. While some readers may prefer to read them in order, they definitely don’t need to be read that way. In fact, I think it would be interesting to pick up one of the later books, discover Francesca, and then go back and explore earlier events in her life.
What can readers expect from the third novel in the series? We don’t want any spoilers, of course, but can you say anything about what lies ahead for your characters?
In the third book, something truly terrible happens to Francesca. This woman who believes that all that is worthwhile in life happens within the city limits of Rome is forced to endure an extended stay in the countryside. On a more serious note, Francesca will make a shattering discovery about her own past when she meets an adversary who plunges her into a nightmare confrontation with her deepest fears. From this, she will emerge as the woman she must be if she is to survive the deadly danger and conflict that is about to tear her world apart.
“I can easily
foresee a
dozen books
following
[Francesca].”
Historical Timeline
March 4, 1493
La Niña, the flagship of Christopher Columbus, limps out of a fierce Atlantic storm bringing word of the discovery of vast new lands to the west.
Spring, 1493
Intent on increasing the wealth and power of his family, Rodrigo Borgia, Pope Alexander VI, seizes lands previously belonging to the Kingdom of Naples and grants them to his second son, Juan, newly created Duke of Gandia.
Ferdinand I, King of Naples, warns of war if his rights are not resp
ected by the papacy.
Rumors spread that the Pope plans to make his first son, seventeen-year-old Cesare Borgia, a cardinal, laying the foundation for a dynasty of Borgia popes that will rule all of Christendom.
Fear of Borgia’s intentions increases opposition to his papacy among many of the great families of Italy as well as the prelates of the Roman Catholic Church.
From his base in Florence, the fanatical Dominican friar Girolamo Savonarola preaches against the corruption of the Roman Catholic Church and the rule of Pope Alexander VI.
April 25, 1493
In answer to challenges to his papacy from the Kingdom of Naples and other opponents, Pope Alexander VI formally begins preparations for war. Borgia’s great rival for the papacy, Cardinal della Rovere, withdraws to his bishopric at Ostia and begins fortifying it.
May 4, 1493
Rodrigo Borgia, Pope Alexander VI, signs the papal bull Inter Caetera, granting all the newly discovered lands a hundred leagues west of the Azores to Spain. In doing so, he seeks to buy the support of Their Most Catholic Majesties, Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand, against his enemies.
Mid-May, 1493
Cardinal della Rovere withdraws to his family seat at Savona. He enters negotiations with the French king, Charles VIII, with the intention of overthrowing Pope Alexander VI.
June, 1493
The Spanish emissary Don Diego Lopez de Haro arrives in Rome, bringing more demands from Their Most Catholic Majesties in return for Spain’s support of Borgia.
June 12, 1493
In fulfillment of his pledge to the Sforza family of Milan, by which he secured their support for his papacy, Rodrigo Borgia marries his thirteen-year-old daughter, Lucrezia, to Giovanni Sforza. The marriage signifies a hardening of positions and makes war all but inevitable.
Rodrigo Borgia
Lucrezia Borgia
