The Borgia Betrayal: A Novel (20 page)

The duke reddened and glared at me with what I can only describe as hatred. If I had not already had an enemy in that quarter, I acquired him then.

“As you wish, Father,” he said, and took himself off stiffly, making a show of closing the gilded door hard behind him.

When he was gone, I said, “I have been giving the matter that you laid before me considerable thought and I think I have something that will interest you.”

I withdrew a small pouch from a pocket of my overdress. Having approached his desk, I unfolded a black cloth about a foot square, spread it out, and poured the contents of the pouch onto it.

Borgia leaned forward and studied what I offered. He frowned. “It looks like salt.”

“It is salt, of the finest quality, taken from your personal supply.” I laid a second black cloth on the desk and set on it a small packet that I unwound carefully. “Now, if you would be so good as to look at this.”

“More salt,” Borgia said after a moment.

I shook my head. “Not so. This is pulverized diamond. It is very expensive; I had to borrow it from a friend.” I had visited Rocco again a few days before, asking for the loan of the diamond powder. He had graciously assented despite my failure to offer any explanation for why I wanted it.

“If you look through this lens,” I said, offering it to Borgia, “you will see that while the two appear virtually identical, they are in fact very different. The powdered diamond contains many more sharp edges that cannot be seen by the unaided eye.”

“What is the point of all this?” Borgia asked even as he did as I bid.

“Diamond in this form is used to grind and polish. In effect, it lacerates surfaces very finely. It has occurred to me that it might be possible to mix a quantity of diamond powder with finely ground salt and have the presence of the diamond escape undetected. Once ingested, the diamond would come into close contact with the soft tissues of the gut where, I believe, it would do considerable harm.”

“I thought it was understood that diamond protects against poison. Indeed, I’ve wondered why you didn’t advise me to use it.”

“Because I have a care for your health,” I said. “It is true that there are those who swallow diamonds whole and pass them without difficulty, but there is always a risk that they will lodge in the lower body. When that happens, the result is acute pain until the object finally comes loose. On the other hand, there is no evidence whatsoever that diamond protects against poison, despite what Pliny claimed. My father tested the proposition thoroughly enough to be convinced of that.”

“All right,” Borgia said slowly. “You say that even finely ground, diamond will cut enough to do real harm. Is that it?”

I nodded. “The smallest particle retains all the characteristics of its source but can be multiplied thousands of times over. Additionally, it can be mixed with the finest grind of salt in such a way as to mask its presence. Then it would only be a matter of getting that salt to Savone, where, because of its quality, it would be reserved for della Rovere’s table.”

“The Cardinal is making a great show of his personal piety. When he dines in public, he eats very little.”

That could put a crimp in my plans but I sensed a qualification in Borgia’s wording.

“In public?”

“Indeed. In private, he remains quite the gourmand. Not really the best for him given that his bowels are unreliable.”

“You are saying that when he eats, he is alone?”

The Pope shrugged as though it were of no import, when I was certain he knew otherwise. So did he toy with what passed for my conscience.

“As I said, he is making a show of his piety.”

“All the better. We would have only to wait for him to ingest a sufficient quantity.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how much he takes. But if he uses it regularly, say several times a day, and there is enough diamond present in the mixture, I believe the effect would be fairly quick.”

“The moment he is ill, suspicions will be raised that he is being poisoned.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Suspicion of poison is raised whenever an eminent person dies in any way other than falling off his horse or being run through with a blade, and even then it has to happen in front of a multitude of witnesses to be believed. But it is well known that della Rovere is heavily protected, making poisoning him very difficult and unlikely. Even if everything in contact with him was inspected over and over, I don’t believe anyone would think of the salt, much less examine it under a lens.”

“Once he’s ill,” Borgia said, “the Cardinal may stop eating.”

“He may,” I agreed, “but I believe that there will be so many fine cuts as to make it impossible for his body to heal. Additionally, physicians know well that injury to the lower bowel brings on sickness very swiftly, even if they do not know why. That is what will actually kill him.”

Borgia thought for a few moments. He examined the salt again, as well as the diamond. Finally, he said, “This is the best you’ve been able to come up with?”

“Given the difficulties involved in getting past della Rovere’s poisoner, it is.”

“Yet you’ve hesitated to bring this to me. Why?”

“I only just recently—”

“You were fully prepared with everything to hand. Clearly, you’ve had ample time to think this through.”

He had me there. Not for a moment did I consider revealing to him that I had been concerned about killing anyone in addition to della Rovere. Far less that I had hesitation about killing the Cardinal himself.

“It is expensive,” I said.

“How expensive?”

“Extraordinarily, given the quantity of diamond I believe will be required. Indeed, I think it is fair to say that there has never been a poison as expensive as this.”

Borgia sighed. He ran a hand over his jowls and looked at me. “You are asking me to decide how much della Rovere’s death is really worth to me.”

“That is what it amounts to.” I gathered up the salt and, with greater care, the diamond powder. When I had returned both and the lens to my pocket, I said, “Perhaps you would like to consider the matter?”

“Perhaps I had better. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Not so far as I am aware. That is why I asked to speak with you privately.”

“You didn’t read about it in one of those books your father left or hear about it from him?”

I shook my head. “So far as I know, I am the first to think of it. Of course, that may not be true. The ancients had great knowledge of poison, much of it now lost to us. At any rate—”

“Have you figured out how to protect against it?”

I understood his concern. Though I might well be the first poisoner—at least of my own day—to realize how diamond powder could be used, that did not mean that I would be the last. While the price would be prohibitive for almost everyone, all that was needed was one ambitious prelate—or monarch—willing to kill at literally any cost.

“I have discovered that while salt dissolves in water, pulverized diamond does not. I do not know why this is but I think it has something to do with the hardness of diamond that remains unchanged even when it is finely ground.”

“And it won’t occur to della Rovere’s poisoner to test it in that way?”

“Salt is notoriously hard to poison, at least until now. Without knowledge of this method, there would be no reason to examine it with such care.”

He seemed satisfied by that but not enough to come to any decision or to dismiss me. I remained standing where I was while Borgia appeared to sink into deep reflection. Finally, just as I was wondering if I should slip away, he roused himself to notice me again.

“You don’t think I should do it, do you?”

“I have carried out your instructions—”

“And presented me with a ruinously expensive method that might or might not work. Hardly encouragement to get the deed done.”

“I’m sorry if my efforts do not meet your expectations, but—”

“It isn’t that,” he said, brushing aside my concern. “What you’ve come up with is ingenious. As I said, you have a gift for finding fresh solutions. No, you’re not the problem.”

I was glad to hear it. So, too, was I relieved that he did not rush to order della Rovere’s death. The price might be deterring him but I hoped there were other considerations as well.

“You know about the Spanish envoy who is coming?” Borgia asked.

“There are rumors.”

“I’m sure there are. Have you talked to your Jewish friends? I’m assuming they still have decent enough sources in Spain. Do they understand the predicament I face?”

“You need the support of Their Most Catholic Majesties to prevent war between France and Naples, a war della Rovere hopes to use to depose you. But the price for their help seems to be going up.”

“Novi Orbis is no longer enough,” Borgia said with palpable disgust. “Now they want the Sforza alliance broken and, for good measure, the Jews expelled. They would leave me stripped of allies and beholden to Spain for everything. But worse yet, they don’t think. How is it possible for people to have so much power yet be so stupid?”

I did not presume that he really wanted my opinion but a response seemed called for all the same. “In what way are they failing to think, Holiness?”

“About the Jews, of course! They go on and on about the need to expel them but do they ever ask themselves what purpose the Jews serve? Yet the answer is obvious. Whenever something goes wrong who do ordinary people blame? The Jews. At the first sign of plague, crop failure, drought, anything at all, it’s the fault of the Jews. But what if there weren’t any Jews? What if they were gone? Who do you think would be blamed then?”

“I don’t know, Holiness.”

“Holy Mother Church, that’s who, for failing to prevent the ills of the world. How long then do you think people would obey our laws, tithe to us, bequeath us their property for their souls’ sake? The whole business would come crashing down in the blink of an eye.”

He sighed deeply and fell back in his chair. “If the Jews didn’t exist, we would have to invent them.”

I will admit I had never considered what he was saying but it did possess a certain logic. Since the conclusion of the
reconquista
of Iberia the previous year by Ferdinand and Isabella, there weren’t enough Moors in Europe to take the blame for everything that went wrong. As for witches, really, how many of them can you burn before ordinary people finally object to their wives, daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, and the like meeting such a grisly fate?

No doubt Sofia and David would be interested to hear Borgia’s views on why the Jews were necessary. I would have to remember to tell them when next we met. For the moment, my sense was that I would be wise to stay close to His Holiness. In his present mood, he bore careful watching.

I worked through the remainder of the day within the Vatican Palace and went home with a purloined leg of lamb, part of the perquisites—big and small—of serving His Holiness. This I entrusted into Portia’s capable hands. Cesare still being off on his father’s business, she and I enjoyed it together in her rooms accompanied by fresh asparagus and a nice claret. Minerva had a share of the lamb and seemed to enjoy it.

I slept better than usual and might have gone on doing so for some hours after dawn had not I been awakened at the first hint of light by a banging on my door.

Wrapped in a robe, I stumbled out to find half a dozen condottierri, the leader of whom held out a large leather pouch. Placing it in my hands, he said, “With the compliments of His Holiness.”

The condottierri left, marching down the stairs loudly enough to rouse any other tenants still trying to sleep. Portia emerged in their wake, blinking sleepily. I called down the stairs that everything was fine and withdrew back into my rooms.

Having taken the pouch over to my worktable, I opened it and peered inside. In the faint light of the new day, I beheld a seeming infinity of stars that burned with cold, inhuman light. Borgia, it seemed, had made up his mind.

17

The Spanish envoy, Don Diego Lopez de Haro, arrived with due pomp, bearing flowery declarations of Their Most Catholic Majesties’ filial obedience to the Supreme Pontiff. Negotiations commenced; at once the rumors began to fly. His Holiness was exhibiting coolness toward de Haro. He had cut short one of their scheduled meetings and missed another entirely. His Holiness was becoming irate. He had suggested that de Haro’s lineage was insufficiently noble for so significant a mission. He had taken to interrupting de Haro and seemed disinclined to let him speak. He had raised his voice … he had shouted … he had broken a blood vessel in his eye shouting … he had hurled a vase of inestimable value at de Haro and thrown the man out of his office. De Haro had said that he would not return without proper regard for his safety.

Some of this was true, some was not. (The vase incident was exaggerated; it was a goblet.) In the end, it wouldn’t really matter how angry Borgia was; he would have to strike the best deal that he could and let the rest go.

In the interest of giving him wider options, I occupied myself in turning the king’s ransom worth of diamonds into finely pulverized powder, still valuable to be sure but worth only a fraction of what they would have commanded while whole.

Before I began, I will confess to considering what else I might do with the gems. They were sufficient to buy a life of luxury anywhere, as well as the force necessary to protect it. I could flee to Constantinople, where the Ottomans seemed set on establishing a great center of learning. How welcoming they would be to a woman I could not say but wealth always smooths the way. Or I could make for Paris, disguise myself as a boy, and penetrate the university there. And then there was Bruges or Basel, both centers of light in our world of darkness. With due care, I could escape Borgia’s vengeance and make a good life for myself as that rarest of creatures, an unmarried woman of independent means.

I might have given more serious thought to such a course had I not been tethered to the life I already had. Aside from the matter of vengeance for my father, never far from my heart, I would also have to leave people for whom I truly cared and who might face Borgia’s retribution in my stead—Rocco, Sofia, David, and others. Under no circumstances could I allow that to happen.