ued his way towards Marino, where
he arrived the same evening.

He learned there that Alfonso, belying his reputation as a clever
politician and great general, had just embarked with all his treasures in
a flotilla of four galleys, leaving the care of the war and the
management of his kingdom to his son Ferdinand. Thus everything went
well for the triumphant march of Charles: the gates of towns opened of
themselves at his approach, his enemies fled without waiting for his
coming, and before he had fought a single battle he had won for himself
the surname of Conqueror.

The day after at dawn the army started once more, and after marching the
whole day, stopped in the evening at Velletri. There the king, who had
been on horseback since the morning, with Cardinal Valentine and D'jem,
left the former at his lodging, and taking D'jem with him, went on to his
own. Then Caesar Borgia, who among the army baggage had twenty very
heavy waggons of his own, had one of these opened, took out a splendid
cabinet with the silver necessary for his table, and gave orders for his
supper to be prepared, as he had done the night before. Meanwhile, night
had come on, and he shut himself up in a private chamber, where,
stripping off his cardinal's costume, he put on a groom's dress. Thanks
to this disguise, he issued from the house that had been assigned for his
accommodation without being recognised, traversed the streets, passed
through the gates, and gained the open country. Nearly half a league
outside the town, a servant awaited him with two swift horses. Caesar,
who was an excellent rider, sprang to the saddle, and he and his
companion at full gallop retraced the road to Rome, where they arrived at
break of day. Caesar got down at the house of one Flores, auditor of the
rota, where he procured a fresh horse and suitable clothes; then he flew
at once to his mother, who gave a cry of joy when she saw him; for so
silent and mysterious was the cardinal for all the world beside, and even
for her, that he had not said a word of his early return to Rome. The
cry of joy uttered by Rosa Vanozza when she beheld her son was far mare a
cry of vengeance than of love. One evening, while everybody was at the
rejoicings in the Vatican, when Charles VIII and Alexander VI were
swearing a friendship which neither of them felt, and exchanging oaths
that were broken beforehand, a messenger from Rosa Vanozza had arrived
with a letter to Caesar, in