Читать книгу Borgia - Michael Field E. - Страница 158

I am your legate, if before, so after.

As for my brother’s death, that is but Fortune—

The spokes of her wheel turned bright on me. I was

Your second son, enslaved to your vocation;

Profane, I touched your sacred things and trembled

You dared to put me to such use: in secret

I wrought my sword, my legend. I am Cesar,

And he is all my omen. By a fate

So marvellous it rocks my very dreams

I wake, I rouse myself

To majesty you put on me, or let it

Drop downward to the void.

[Motioning to the Pope that he must continue speaking.

You did not reckon

With me, you let Giovanni take my place

Beside you and your throne. None noted me

Level among the scarlet hats, except

This goddess with a rudder, this fair child

Of Jove, this liberator. I am silent,

Except before confusion such as yours.

[Coming closer to the Pope.

Blind to the moment—you have not been blind.

I watched you from Spoleto setting gins,

I watched you bribe on bribe....