The Borgia Bride by Jeanne Kalogridis Page B

Crown Prince Ferrandino himself, who as you know was in Rome in command of our forces.’
    The word was immediately provoked my alarm.
    ‘What news of Rome?’ Jofre asked, unable to restrain himself. ‘My father—His Holiness, Alexander, my sister and brother—are they well?’
    ‘They are,’ said the messenger, and Jofre leaned back with a sigh. ‘So far as I know, they are safe behind the walls of the Castel Sant’Angelo. It is the situation of Naples itself which is now dire.’
    ‘Speak,’ I commanded.
    ‘Prince Federico has bid me to relay the following: Crown Prince Ferrandino’s army entered Rome and engaged the French army there. However, King Charles’ forces outnumber those of Naples, and Ferrandino therefore was relying on the promised assistance of His Holiness.
    ‘Unbeknownst to the Pope, the Orsini family earlier engaged in a conspiracy with the French and captured Giulia, she who is known as La Bella , Alexander’s favourite. When His Holiness heard that Madonna Giulia was in danger, he ordered his own army to stand down and commanded Prince Ferrandino to withdraw from the city.
    ‘Prince Ferrandino, facing certain loss, was forced to obey. He now marches homeward, where he will prepare to engage the French army once again.
    ‘His Holiness, in the meantime, received King Charles in the Vatican, and there negotiated with him. In return for Madonna Giulia, he offered up his son Don Cesare—your brother, Prince Jofre—as a hostage to ride with the French. In this way, he has guaranteed Re Petito safe passage to Naples.’
    I stared at the messenger for a long moment before whispering, ‘He has betrayed us. For the sake of a woman, he has betrayed us…’ I felt such outrage that I could not move, could only sit and stare in disbelief at the young noble. Despite his speech about first giving up his mitre, lands, and life, Alexander had deserted King Alfonso, without surrendering a whit.
    The tired nobleman took a long drink of wine before continuing. ‘All is not well in Rome, either, Your Highness. The French have plundered the city.’ He turned toward Jofre. ‘Your mother, Vannozza Cattanei—her palace was ransacked, and it is said…’ He lowered his eyes modestly. ‘Forgive me, Highness. It is said they committed unseemly acts upon her person.’
    Jofre pressed a hand to his lips.
    The rider continued. ‘Madonna Sancha, your uncle, Prince Federico, sends this urgent message: Naples needs the help of all her citizens. It is feared that the approach of the French will encourage an uprising amongst the Angevin barons. The prince has requested that you and your husband bring whatever men and arms Squillace can render.’
    ‘Why has my uncle, and not my father, the King, sent you?’ I demanded. I was convinced that my father had not cared enough to keep me informed, that this was yet another slight.
    But the messenger’s answer surprised me. ‘It has been necessary for Prince Federico to be involved in the day-to-day affairs of the kingdom. I am sorry to be the one to tell you, Your Highness. His Majesty is unwell.’
    ‘Unwell?’ I rose, surprised by how greatly this news unsettled me, by the fact that I cared. ‘What is wrong with him?’
    The young man would not meet my gaze. ‘Nothing physical afflicts him, Your Highness. Nothing the doctors can help. He…he has been deeply shaken by the French threat. He is not himself.’
    I sank slowly back into my chair, ignoring the poignant glance my husband directed at me. The image of the rider in front of me disappeared: I saw only my father’s face. For the first time, I focused not on the viciousness there, on the mocking expression directed at me. Instead I saw the dark, haunted look in his eyes, and realized I should not have been surprised to hear he was mentally unsound. He was, after all, the son of Ferrante, who had not only killed his enemies, but dressed their tanned hides in glorious costumes and spoke to them like the