WSIM24B Ch. 12

"You have two mistresses?"

I would have thought that Sancia would be tired out. As she'd promised, she was now bathing almost every day. I'd eaten her pussy for the better part of an hour, and brought her to two orgasms, and then close to a third, which she achieved with my cock buried in her hungry pussy.

I don't know if Sancia was a bona fide nymphomaniac, but she certainly had a powerful libido. It was at least a match for my own. The problem was that I wanted to save some of my energy for Gina and Elena.

- "You have two other women?"

- "Yes."

- "Would you give them up for me?"

- "No."

Sancia was surprised. She knew very well how hot she was; she was also quite confident in her own sexual awesomeness. What she couldn't fathom was how I could possibly prefer any other woman to her.

- "I don't understand." she said.

I let out a long, slow breath. How to explain this?

- "I love Gina. She's my rock. My refuge. It makes me happy just to look at her. She loves me, too. If I were a poor man, I'd marry her. If I were a wealthy nobleman, I would keep her as my mistress. Since I'm in between those ranks... it's complicated. I met Elena by accident. She's a widow with very little experience. In sexual terms, she's the student, and I'm the tutor. How could I abandon her before I've taught her everything I know?"

- "From what I've seen, that could take years." said my Neapolitan Princess. There was a tinge of regret in her voice.

- "Sancia... if you were a gardener, I'd take you as my mistress, and fuck you two or three times a day. If you were the widow of a guildsman - and unmarried - I'd ask you to marry me. But you're neither of those. I enjoy every moment I spend with you, but I'm not going to give up everything for you."

- "I'm not really a Princess." she said.

Sancia was just being honest. But that was something I'd figured out about her early on. She was an illegitimate child. Now, she hadn't been disowned, or cast out - in fact, she'd been raised in a very supportive family environment - but she was very conscious of her status.

She'd also known early on that she would be married off to further her father's dynastic ambitions. Sancia wasn't the least bit surprised to be betrothed to the Pope's illegitimate son; but she was dismayed to discover that he was still a child (and a weedy little boy at that).

Naples was the sexual capital of Italy, as Charles VIII of France had discovered. For the highly sensual young woman, her marriage to a feckless boy was a major disappointment. She wasn't a virgin, and she'd been hoping for an active and imaginative sex life.

The key to it was that Sancia didn't see herself as a Princess. She wasn't a complete snob (only a partial one), and she didn't walk about with her nose in the air. She had the 'common touch', the ability to speak to just about anyone on their own level. I didn't introduce her to Gina, but I suspected that they would have got along just fine.

I got to know her body quite well. She had lovely breasts, as I've said, and I loved to look at her waist and hips. Her ass was... well, from the back, her lower half was built like a viola. But I think that her best feature was her face.

- "I can hardly compare to Lucrezia, or to Giulia Farnese." she complained.

- "I'm not comparing you to them. I'm telling you that I really like your face. If I see you naked, I get hard. But I also get hard even when I see you fully clothed."

She smiled. "You say the sweetest things."

Sancia had bathed just before I arrived, and she had washed her hair - partially, at least. With her wet hair clinging to the sides of her head, her most prominent facial features (her eyes, and her wide mouth) were exaggerated.

But it also meant that her delicious ass was squeaky clean. She was stunned when I buried my face between her cheeks and licked her pussy from behind. She was shocked when I tongued her asshole, but she couldn't escape because I had a firm hold on her hips.

- "Oh, God... I'll bathe twice a day..."

***

I really did like her face. And her voice. And her sex drive.

She sent her lady, Tomasina, to call on me at least three times a week. Our encounters were rarely over quickly; Sancia seemed to expect at least three orgasms for herself, and a minimum of two for me.

I never asked - though I did wonder - about where she'd gained her sexual experience. She liked doggy, and on her own initiated a reverse cowgirl fuck. She showed no surprise whatever when I put her on her back, lay down beside her, and then tilted her lower body so that I could enter her from behind. She was equally unfazed when I crawled up her chest to fuck her tits.

But Sancia was surprised when I fucked her on her dressing table, and then again when I held her up off the ground and hammered her against the wall.

We did talk, in between all of the sex. And I must have seen the full range of her facial expressions. The close-mouthed smile was her standby, but the expression in her eyes varied tremendously, from amusement to gentle mockery, curiosity, and challenge.

Then, one night, I saw a new one. She smiled, without revealing her teeth, but her lower lip quivered just a little. Then I looked into her eyes, and saw... pain? Vulnerability? In fact, she looked as if she might cry. I took her in my arms, and let her bury her face against my shoulder.

She had a quiet little sob, and I felt a tear drop on my skin. I gave her the opportunity to let it out. I didn't ask any questions, or press her to explain.

I sometimes think that she was having an 'If I were a carpenter, and you were a lady' moment. I had just rocked her world, and she'd had a spectacular orgasm. Was she wondering what it would be like to be with me? Not as scandalous, furtive lovers, but perhaps as something more? Given the gulf in our social positions, that could never be.

I let her cry, and never mentioned it again. It was probably one of the nicer things I ever did for her.

***

Gina didn't change at all. If Sancia hadn't called upon me, I went back to our room and crawled into bed beside Gina. She was remarkably skilled at reading my mood and my fatigue level. Probably two thirds of the time, she would make love to me. But she had an incredible sense of when to let me rest. She would hold me, or lie close and press her breasts into my back, but without making any demands.

- "I don't deserve you." I told her, again.

- "Yes, you do."

I also managed to visit my mistress in town. Elena's sexual education continued, though we only got together once a week, or perhaps three times every two weeks. I tried some of the things I'd done with Sancia, and Elena took to them like a duck to water. She wasn't quite as flexible, but she was more than willing to let me maneuver her into new positions.

She was still up on all of the city gossip.

- "Have you heard? They say that Princess Sancia has taken a lover, inside the Pope's Palace. A prominent courtier... known for his habit of dressing all in black..."

Shit.

If Elena knew, then so did most of Rome. Or they would know soon enough. The Pope had grudgingly accepted that I was going to be fucking his daughter-in-law, but he'd warned me to be discreet. Obviously, we hadn't been discreet enough.

- "You're not... upset?" I asked Elena.

- "What? No!" If anything, she was delighted. Her lover was sleeping with a Princess, but still came back to her? It made her feel wonderful.

Good news: my two lovers weren't angry that I was involved with Sancia, and Sancia wasn't ticked off that I refused to give up my girlfriends. Bad news: half of Rome knew that Sancia and I were lovers. They might have no idea who I was, but she was a prominent public figure.

More bad news: Juan Gandia was coming back to Rome.

***

He left his pregnant wife and infant son in Spain. I didn't like the little turd at all, but the Pope let me know that he'd wanted him back in 1494, when the French were invading.

- "Ferdinand of Aragon basically kept him as a hostage, so that I wouldn't make a deal with the French. The prick."

- "Do you know who Ferdinand really is? He's a player, right?"

- "Absolutely. I'm just not sure who. He's a sneaky bastard, though."

The Pope organized a splendid reception for his son: all of the Cardinals, with their households, and all of the ambassadors, plus Rome's nobility gathered to welcome Juan Gandia. The little bugger arrived wearing a red cap hung with pearls, jewels on his doublet, and a gold mantle. His horse was decorated with gold fringes and silver bells. He was accompanied by six squires and twelve pages, all fabulously decked out and riding fine horses. To top it all off, they were followed by a swarm of dwarfs and clowns. It was a frigging circus.

But the Boss was thrilled to have him back. Ever since the French had been driven out, he'd wanted to settle scores with the Orsinis. Juan Gandia, even though he was only 20 years old, was going to lead that campaign.

I tried to talk the Admiral out of it. Juan was inexperienced. He was also vain, arrogant, and had a special knack for pissing people off. I myself wanted nothing to do with him. He was a loser - I figured that anything he was involved in would be a failure.

He hadn't liked me before, but Juan was decidedly unhappy to find that I was one of his father's top advisors. He certainly didn't like hearing the story of my daring escape from the French (at a time when he'd been idle, in Spain). So he tried to cut me down at every opportunity.

And then he decided to seduce Sancia, to steal her away from me.

I know, because she told me about it.

- "Were you tempted?" I asked.

- "A little." she admitted. "He's handsome. And rich. Clever, too. But I remembered what you'd said about the difference between wit and wisdom."

- "Oh?"

- "We were discussing the ideal courtier again - the ideal man, really. Juan said that the man's first quality had to be noble birth. 'A bright lamp that makes manifest and visible deeds both good and bad.'"

I couldn't help it: I laughed out loud. Juan Gandia was the illegitimate son of a Cardinal who had become Pope, while the woman he was trying to seduce was the illegitimate daughter of a Duke who briefly became King before abdicating and fleeing in terror at the approach of the French.

Sancia punched me in the chest. She was naked, and sitting on my rampant erection at the time, which only made me laugh harder.

- "Be serious." she scolded.

- "I'm sorry. Go on."

She huffed. "He said that noble birth was essential as a spur to virtue. Hope of praise, and fear of dishonour are powerful motivators. The low-born, he argued, lack that spur, because they have no ancestors whose deeds they want to emulate, or surpass."

I suppressed another wave of laughter. Sancia felt it, because my stomach tightened and my cock flexed a little, inside her. She grinned.

"He said that noble men excel in the exercise of arms and other pursuits, because 'nature implants in everything that hidden seed which gives a certain force and quality of its own essence -'"

Once again, I couldn't help it; I was tempted to laugh. Instead, though, I grabbed Sancia by her delectable hips, and tried to implant some of my hidden seed into her essence, by holding on tight and thrusting upwards as she rode me.

She loved it. She wasn't close yet, though, so she goaded me a little more.

"Talent, and beauty of countenance... plus that certain grace... which shall make him at first sight pleasing and lovable to all who see him..."

It was remarkable that she was able to get all of that out even as I was fucking her hard from below.

- "Beauty of countenance..." was all I could get out before I erupted inside her.

Sancia loved it. It was the first time, in our relationship, that she'd gotten me to come first. She lay down atop me, and kissed my neck.

- "Do you want to know what I said." she whispered.

- "Yes."

- "I said that people of noblest birth were often ridden with vices, while some of the humbly born achieve great things. For every Alexander of Macedon, there is a Socrates; for every Julius Caesar, a Gaius Marius."

I didn't remember who Gaius Marius was exactly. I think he had something to do with the Roman legions.

- "You could have mentioned Sigismondo Malatesta, too." I suggested.

- "Oh! I didn't think of him!" The former ruler of Rimini, Malatesta had had one of his wives poisoned, and the other suffocated.

But I loved Sancia, in that moment, for being too intelligent to fall for Juan Gandia's bullshit, and for being so damn... beautiful of countenance.

A week later, Sancia was saddened to hear of the death of her half-brother Ferrante II, the King of Naples. He had just married his aunt, Giovanna (his grandfather's illegitimate daughter, so his father's half-sister; I'm telling you, there was something in the water in Naples). Ferrante was 29; she was 18. The king had caught malaria, and died soon after the wedding. He was succeeded by his uncle, Federigo.

***

- "What's gotten into you?' asked the Pope - in English. "You haven't said or done anything useful for a month. Is Sancia too much of a distraction?"

- "She is a distraction - but not too much." I said. "I just don't speak when your son is present. He opposes everything I suggest, no matter what it is, and then tries to make it personal. He's spoiling for a fight, but he has no idea who he's dealing with. We can't warn him off without telling him who I am, and I can't injure or embarrass him because he's your son."

- "Don't cause problems with Juan. I need him."

Unfortunately, the Pope had a bit of a blind spot when it came to his 'son'. Great expectations, too, which I was quite sure Juan would never live up to.

"Look, Pilgrim," he continued, "the Roman barons are a major problem. The Orsinis and the Colonnas can basically hold me hostage whenever they want. They have the men, and experienced leaders. But now that the French are gone, I have an opportunity to deal with them, separately. The time is right. You know that."

He was right about the experienced leaders. Fabrizio and Prospero Colonna were veteran condottiere. So were Virginio Orsini and Bartolomeo D'Alviano (married to Virginio's sister, Bartolomea). But now Virginio, the Duke of Bracciano, had gotten himself captured in Naples. That was why the Pope believed that the time was right. He was correct, but he'd chosen the wrong instruments.

He'd hired mercenaries. I disapproved, but I understood that he no other choice: he simply didn't have troops of his own. But then he chose Guidobaldo de Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino, to command them. This was the son of Federigo de Montefeltro, a noted condottiere in his day. But the son was barely a pale reflection of the father.

Guidobaldo was gentle, physically weak, and a patron of the arts. He might also have been the unluckiest man in Italy. To make matters worse, the Pope had appointed a co-commander: Juan Gandia. At 20, he was too young, totally inexperienced, and a complete asshole. Fabrizio Colonna had been added to the mix, but I doubted that Juan would listen to his advice, no matter how good it was.

Early in October, at St Peter's, the Pope invested Juan Gandia as Captain-General of the Church and Gonfalonier (standard bearer). I disapproved, and I told my Boss why I disapproved. After that, there wasn't a whole lot more to say.

I would have liked to witness a siege, to see the composition of the army and how the men behaved. But I wanted nothing to do with anything led by Juan - even if only in part. It was a moot point, anyway: the Gonfalonier made it clear to his father that I was not welcome.

Unfortunately, my Boss thought that I was angry because of that, or because Juan had tried to seduce Sancia again. In fact, it wasn't just again; it was part of a constant campaign. The latest skirmish, though, had been in front of an audience.

Juan had been describing the true profession of the courtier: arms. Only through martial conduct could one show courage, loyalty, and duty. A mere base-born (and foreign-born) clerk would know nothing of these. I suspect that most everybody knew who he was referring to.

Now, Sancia could have laughed it off. Or, she could have pointed out that I'd fought the Orsini (and saved the Ramires brothers), or that I'd single-handedly defeated and slain a small band of bandits. Instead, she counter-attacked. She was tired of his relentless pursuit, and decided to put him in his place.

- "Have you ever been in a battle or a siege?" she asked. "Or even a street fight? A brawl? I think not."

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked away - unintentionally drawing even more attention to their exchange. Juan was left with egg on his face... and vengeance in his heart.

It was probably a good thing that Juan left Rome with the army shortly after that. Sancia calmed down, and we continued to meet regularly. Gina wasn't complaining, and Elena, whenever I saw her, pumped me for Palace gossip.

The campaign began well. The Papal forces, led by Montefeltro and Juan Gandia, captured ten Orsini castles and strongholds in the first two months. Then they came to the major fortress of Bracciano, defended by Bartolomea Orsini, sister of Virginio and wife of D'Alviano.

Guidobaldo Montefeltro was wounded. Juan ordered two separate assaults; both were costly failures. A relief army was approaching, under Carlo Orsini (Virginio's bastard son) and Vitellozzo Vitelli, a skilful condottiere. Juan Gandia chose to raise the siege, and give battle at Soriano, on January 24th, 1497.

It was a disaster. Guidobaldo was captured. Juan was wounded in the face, and fled. The Papal forces lost 500 men killed, and all of their artillery. It was a shameful, dishonourable defeat, and it left the Pope with no choice but to make peace.

The Orsini got their castles back, but paid an indemnity of 50,000 ducats. That wasn't a problem for them, because they expected to recoup much of the money by ransoming Guidobaldo de Montefeltro - except that the Pope refused to pay it.

I didn't say 'I told you so'. I schooled my features so that it wouldn't look as if I was even thinking it. The Pope wasn't fooled.

- "I know. I know he rubs people the wrong way. I thought he could do this. He may be the wrong tool for the job, but he's the only tool I've got. Joffre is... Joffre. So it has to be Juan."

- "Does it?"

- "What? You're the first one to tell me that I can't trust mercenary leaders! So Juan is all I've got."

He wasn't. I knew someone who could do a better job. but my Boss wasn't ready to hear it yet, so I held my peace.

It was a humiliating settlement, after the promising beginning to the campaign. But Juan was back in the field again in February, this time assisted by Spanish troops led by Gonsalvo de Cordoba, who was already being called 'the Great Captain'. This was a much better choice of leader, even if Juan Gandia nominally shared the command.

They laid siege to Ostia, the port of Rome, a fortress belonging to the della Roveres, and captured it early in March.

But Juan managed to spoil the victory. When the successful commanders returned to Rome, he claimed equal honours with the Great Captain. Gonsalvo de Cordoba was offended, and left.

It was a bad week, in Rome. Only a few days later, Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro, Lucrezia's husband, fled the city.

In 1493, a marriage alliance with the Sforzas and Milan seemed like a good idea. But then Ludovico Il Moro invited the French to invade Italy. There was no longer any advantage to Lucrezia's marriage. Since then, her husband had been spying for his family (with little success, thanks to big Miguel). Giovanni may have seen the writing on the wall, or Juan may have made some indirect threat. I wouldn't have put it past the little bastard.