by L. E. Waters
Chapter 4
I’m only changing households in Rome, but it’s the first time I’ve been away from everyone. Giovanni greets me at the door to the much smaller and less decorated palace, but I remember it won’t be long before Father can figure some way out.
“So wonderful to finally have you here, my wife.” He takes my hand and kisses it in a fumbling way. Cesare’s right, he does always seem to be waiting for someone to sneak up on him.
I curtsy with head bowed to him. “It’s time to take my rightful place in my wedding bed.”
I seem to catch him off guard with this forward comment, and he begins to stutter.
“R-right, r-right. In your r-rightful place.” The thought seems to overwhelm him so greatly that he can look upon me no longer and tries to busy himself with directing the servants bringing my trousseau in. He points to the room upstairs that leads to my suite.
“My lord, can you bring me to our room so my ladies can refresh me from my trip?”
“Yes”—he trips over a suitcase on the floor and hops back up, red-faced—“I will take you there myself.”
I keep from laughing but note it to describe to Cesare and Juan the next time I see them.
Dinner’s satisfactory, and Giovanni and I eat at the large table alone. He doesn’t speak to me, and whenever I look up from my plate, I see him chewing his food like a cow. Even when I don’t look, I can still hear him eat. He pushes his chair away from the table, and even though I’m only halfway through my meal, I realize he wants me to follow him.
Adriana’s told me much of what’s expected of women on their wedding night, and since I’ve attended many of my father’s parties—rich with Rome’s finest courtesans—sex is not something that intimidates me. Giovanni sits back on his bed and watches me undress by the fire. Even though he’s the widower, he’s the one who’s shaking. He fumbles at every occasion for me that night, just as he fumbled to kiss my hand. I lie there playing my part, hoping Father will think of something soon.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Six months later, Cesare and Father arrive for dinner, as they have every few weeks since I’ve been here. Giovanni’s been away on a campaign for months, and I happily have the place to myself.
Cesare begins at dinner. “This isn’t simply a visit tonight, dear sister.” He swallows. “We have word Giovanni’s on his way back tonight, and we think it’s a good opportunity to speak to him about your annulment.”
My heart leaps at the idea.
“I think the only way we can annul your marriage is via”—my father inhales a burp but continues—“non-consummation.”
I’m dumbfounded; my expression makes them both laugh.
Father turns to me with a sudden, serious face. “You didn’t consummate the marriage, did you?”
“You didn’t tell me not to…” By the way they breakout in laughter, I know they’re joking.
“Lucrezia, after Cesare gets through terrorizing him, he’ll agree to anything.” They’re laughing so hard, Cesare’s holding his sides.
“Impotence!” Cesare blurts out. “We’ll get him to declare impotency!”
As much as I want a better marriage, I feel somewhat sorry for what Giovanni has ahead of him. Even though he’s boring and unimportant, my stomach twists as I imagine what I’m going to have to publicly lie about at my father’s demand.
Giovanni walks in, already angry from hearing Cesare and my father are here upon his return. He looks even more nervous than usual and doesn’t even take his coat off when he enters the dining room.
I go to him at once and kiss him on his cheek.
“So glad you are home and well.” But he doesn’t hear me.
Cesare gives a fake smile and remains seated. “Yes, brother, so glad you are well.”
My father extends his hand, and Giovanni, after an awkward moment of hesitation, kisses his ring. Giovanni then sits down stiffly next to Father, who’s seated in Giovanni’s seat at the head of the table.
“Giovanni, I sense you’re unnerved at our unexpected visit, and I want to put all your concerns to rest by coming out with my proposition.” As Father says this, Cesare gets up and moves his chair to the other side of Giovanni. Giovanni tenses in his seat.
My father laces the fingers of both hands, pushes back his large form, and sends a serious look to Giovanni. “Your pope requests you sign an annulment—”
“I will never sign an annulment!” He jumps up from his chair, spilling his glass. “You signed a contract with me. Lucrezia’s my wife.”
Cesare and Father only become calmer with his outburst.
Cesare says, “Wouldn’t you rather a wife that loves you?”
Giovanni looks at me. “I love her, and even if it isn’t reciprocated, we’re husband and wife under God.”
My father raises one eyebrow and narrows the other eye. “Will you risk your life for it?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, I’m informing you,” he replies with a strange smile.
Giovanni glares at me. “You say nothing, Lucrezia?”
I glance down and shake my head.
“The devil’s wearing the papal crown.” Giovanni turns and walks back out of the house.
“That went well.” Cesare starts laughing.
My father exhales loudly. “This might be harder than I thought.”
Chapter 5
Giovanni flees, and under the pretenses I now know, an annulment is going to be carried out. I don’t feel right staying in the Sforza palace and decide to go back to where I always go in times of difficulty: the convent of San Sisto in Rome where I was raised. The peace of San Sisto, with all its fragrant herb gardens, nuns’ ethereal songs, and serene church bells, puts my soul at ease like no other place. Something here reminds me of the time I wished I belonged to—something so different than the pretentious court in which I now am forced to live—something of a world I’d left behind.
It’s three days before my father’s messenger appears as I’m embroidering by the window in my room. He’s a handsome youth close to my age. His hat falls off as he kneels to me and tries to hand me the letter, but I push it away.
“His Holiness has sent me everywhere to find you,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “You didn’t request his permission.”
“His Holiness should’ve known I would come here,” I say without looking down.
“If I had a daughter as lovely as you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight either.”
Softening with his flattery, I gaze down onto sparkling grey-blue eyes and a glowing smile that breaks my defenses.
“Will you read me the letter?”
“Perotto is at your service.”
He breaks the seal, opens it up, and reads:
My most cherished daughter,
I am greatly displeased you left without notifying me of your destination. It has caused me much grief to send my messengers out to find you. I know you are facing a difficult time but if you keep with our plan, both you and Cesare will be in better position. Sforza is protected in Pesaro, and we cannot bring him to court to sign the annulment. We need you to go to Rome to bring him where we can influence him. I promise this will all be over soon. Lucrezia, please return with the messenger.
Your devoted father
Perotto folds the letter back up and puts it inside his satchel. “Shall I tell your ladies to start to gather your things?”
“I’m going nowhere.”
He looks surprised. “But His Holiness has forgiven you; there’s no need to fear coming back to Rome.”
“I don’t fear the Holy Father. I’m staying because this is where I choose to be.”
The thought of walking into those papal courts and making false accusations causes my palms to sweat. Perotto sits down on the footstool in front of me, removes some paper from his satchel, and licks his quill.
“What message does your beatitude wish to send back to my master?”
&n
bsp; “Dearest father,
I am staying and becoming a nun. I cannot do what is required of me and have failed you and Cesare both. Please forgive me and let me be.
Your Daughter,
Lucrezia”
Perotto tucks my letter away and gets up to leave. “It’ll be a great shame to hide that golden hair under a habit.”
I say nothing as he leaves. He comes back with yet another letter from Father a week later. I’m happy he sends Perotto back. I’ve dressed up every day for the week, expecting him to return. As he walks in, he bows at my feet and reaches to kiss my hand. He does so, so softly and slowly that blood rushes to my cheeks.
He stands. “Would the lady like me to read again?”
I nod and sit on the footstool as he kneels in front of me, very close.
Beloved Daughter,
Your letter caused me such stress that I fell ill and needed a bloodletting to bring me back to health. If you love me, you will return at once. The convent is not your calling. We have many other things ahead for you, and the unpleasantness that lies ahead is only temporary. I have spoken with the mother superior, and she is not in my favor as she is allowing you to stay. I hope you will come to your senses and do what is right for your family.
Pope Alexander VI
Perotto puts the letter away and stares at me. “Do you wish to write him a response?”
“No, it would be the same reply.”
I walk to the window, and he moves with me.
“Do you get lonely here?”
“I have my ladies and the nuns. I’m not alone.”
He comes closer to me than I thought he would and touches my hair. “I have heard men talk about the pope’s beautiful daughter. I always imagined you lovely, but seeing you, I greatly underestimated your power.”
I look up in his eyes that are so close, my stomach drops at this unexpected intensity he creates.
He bends in, kisses me softly, but pulls away too soon. He picks up his satchel, nods to me with a smile, and leaves. Even though I don’t care to hear from Father, I wait every day for Perotto to return.
Five long days later, my maid notifies me of a messenger approaching, and my heart speeds as I wait to see if he’ll run to me, but everything in me falls as I see it’s Cesare’s messenger. Completely disappointed, I hunch my shoulders and demand, “Read, messenger.”
The messenger bows and begins:
Loveliest, Reclusive Sister,
I feel I have not seen the sun in months since you have run away. It is not like you to be so weak and guilty, and I am worried all the Borgias are becoming soft. I have received news that Juan is behaving badly in his misappointed dukedom. There has been much talk that he’s not only been ignoring his wife, failing to sire an heir, but has been going about Barcelona at night making repeated visits to the city’s whores and gambling for large fortunes and losing. He has been disrespectful to many of the alliances, and I fear he is on a course to great dishonor and embarrassment for the Borgia name. I seem to be the only Borgia who is striving for something better than that to which we were born. The only Borgia who is helping Father achieve his empiricist vision for us. Please pull yourself together and see what is the right thing to do. Sforza will be fine, Father will allow him to keep his large dowry, and we will leave him alone after he releases you. Please write to me, or I shall have to visit.
Your loving brother,
Cesare
I give no reply. I know he’ll come anyway. Nothing can keep Cesare away if he wants something. I worry about Juan, though, how he won’t live up to the men Father and Cesare are, and I love him the more for that.
Cesare comes a week later. He glides into the chapel as I’m finishing my morning prayers and claps his hands. “Enough of this strangeness, sister! Come away with me now to go welcome our youngest brother and his new wife, Sancia, to court.”
He gets my attention. “Jofre was married? He’s only fourteen.” I rise up from my prayer bench.
“Yes, while you’ve been praying with the nuns, our awkward brother has consummated his marriage with a much older beauty, Sancia, to Father’s great pride. Even though he’s not one of Father’s favorites, it seems he’s already faring better than Juan.”
I know I’ll have to go. There’ll be great talk if I’m not there to welcome them both to court. Cesare can tell I relent; he unwinds the rosary from my hand, and claps for my ladies to come at once to prepare me for court.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
When we arrive at the Vatican, I turn to Cesare and say, “I’m only staying for the week.”
Cesare smiles. “You’ll have so much fun dancing with me, you’ll take that back.” He helps me out of the coach. Juan’s waiting upon my entrance. He grabs me up in his strong arms and spins me around in circles.
“Where have you been?” he exclaims.
“San Sisto.”
“I know that, but I’ve missed you so much!” He gives me another hug.
I see something different in his eyes—the gleam’s disappeared.
“You better go get all that gold you had Father make. I want a handsome accessory on my arm tonight to match my dress.”
He gives me a wink and runs off. Cesare looks on jealously.
Hearing of Sancia’s beauty, I dress in my finest dress, the one worth fifteen thousand ducats. Once I’m adorned, I know nothing could be more beautiful than what I see in the mirror. Feeling confident, I go out to the approaching envoy and everyone in court lines up to welcome them. Trumpets ring out as they approach on decorated mules, Jofre in front, looking young and gawky with reddish-tinged thin hair. I see why my father doubts his paternity, since Jofre doesn’t have any of the beauty of the Borgia’s. He’s dark in complexion and rather greasy, with a prominent scar over his left eye from a fencing match. I see no features that improve him.
Sancia catches my attention with her long, shiny, black hair and poised stance in her saddle. She’s not so fine-featured, but her aura is very enticing and charming. Jofre looks like a poor messenger boy next to her regal air. I sympathize with her at once, with how she’s forced into such an odd marriage for family betterment. Father’s at the front of the welcoming line. Juan and Cesare stand beside me, behind Father. Sancia gracefully dismounts, and Jofre awkwardly takes her arm. She dwarfs him by two inches. Sancia curtsies to my father, kisses the ring on his right hand, and as her eyes come up to see Juan and Cesare, she blushes. Juan and Cesare both reach for her arm, and in her graceful way, she smiles and holds both hands up to be kissed by the charmed brothers.
She turns to me and gives me a beautiful white-toothed smile. “I can tell you’re Lucrezia, since you’re the most dazzling woman at court.”
I like her immediately. “Second only to you, Sancia.”
“Oh, and a graceful liar too.” I see a slight scar on her forehead between large honey-brown eyes as she smiles easily.
That night, Juan, Cesare, Sancia, and I perform a bassa dance. Jofre sits quietly next to Father. During the dance, Juan is forced to leave Sancia and switch partners with me. Yet his head remains turned toward her even while displaying his light-footed prancing for me. Cesare now beams as he is finally allowed to perform for her.
Juan glances back to me as it is my turn to dance for him and he asks, “Whom do you think Sancia favors?”
“Jofre?” I say between hops, and we both laugh.
He waits for me to answer honestly.
“Either she favors both or neither,” I say, watching her laugh as Cesare takes her hand high to lead her in a glide around the circle, “or she may treat every man this way.”
He says nothing back. After taking me around the circle as well, he stirs the air with a sweeping bow and moves on to the next partner. Cesare comes to me, still watching, glancing over his shoulder to Sancia, sizing up her new partner.
“I feel like Sancia’s leftovers.” I smirk.
“You’re never leftover, not in a dress such as th
is.” He looks at my gown with charitable admiration. “But I do wonder who will be in her bed tonight.”
After the dance is over, we sit down to our first course. Sancia’s seated that night next to Father, who never fails to seat all beauty nearest to him, and I’m on her left. Juan and Cesare are positioned out of hearing, and I see them leaning to catch occasional glimpses of Sancia.
Sancia turns to me during the main course and says, “You have three very distinguished brothers.”
I know she’s being kind, including Jofre.
“Yes, and they seem very enraptured with you.”
She sparkles at the confirmation she’s been fishing for. I know then, since she doesn’t ask more, that she fancies both. This is yet another competition between Juan and Cesare.
When dinner ends, both brothers lurch out of their seats to help her leave the table. Juan reaches for her hand first and leads her away to her sleeping quarters. Cesare, fuming, comes back to help me up and motions for his henchman, Don Michelotto. He says to him as he comes close, “Follow them, and watch their door. When he leaves, come and find me.”
Michelotto fixes his steel-grey eyes upon the flirting pair and nods.
Cesare turns to me with a grin. “The main course always follows the appetizer.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
I decide to leave in the morning while Cesare and Juan sleep in from their long night. I go again to San Sisto without permission. I know the first day will be focused on Sancia and Jofre, but it will not be long before Father and Cesare begin grooming me for the annulment proceedings.