He neared; the whiteness of his satin robes accentuated the ruddiness of his round face, the darkness of his narrowed eyes. His gaze pierced like a blade, and it alternated between me and Lucrezia; clearly, we had both done something to foster his fury and contempt.
We rose to our feet, Lucrezia struggling because of the burden she carried; but Alexander signalled at once for us to retake our seats.
‘No!’ he called. ‘Sit-you will need to.’ His tone was harsh, his expression thunderous. He arrived at our table and hurled a missive down next to Lucrezia’s plate. I sat, wooden, scarcely daring to draw a breath.
Lucrezia paled-perhaps she suspected what I was too startled to intuit-picked up the letter, and began to read. She let go a gasp, then a strange, nervous laugh of disbelief.
‘What is it?’ I asked, softly lest I further provoke His Holiness’ rage.
She gazed up at me, dazed; I thought she might faint. But she composed herself and spoke; I heard the approach of tears in her tone. ‘Alfonso. He says he is no longer safe in Rome. He has gone to Naples.’
‘And he beseeches you to join him!’ Alexander bellowed, sweeping a great hand toward the letter; Lucrezia cringed, as if fearing he might strike her. ‘You had best swear, before God, that you knew nothing of this.’
Lucrezia blinking rapidly, whispered, ‘I knew nothing. I swear.’
Alexander continued his ranting. ‘What kind of traitorous man is this, who accuses his own family-accuses
I wanted to strike him myself then. I was furious at him for insulting my brother, a man more decent than Alexander could possibly fathom; and I was likewise furious at Alfonso for fleeing Rome without telling me.
At the same time, I understood why he had remained silent; such a secret put my own neck at risk. By leaving me behind, obviously not privy to his plans, Alfonso had ensured that I would be regarded by the Borgias as harmless.
‘You will of course not respond,’ Alexander ordered his daughter harshly, entirely unmoved by the tears that spilled down her cheeks, onto the parchment that lay next to her half-eaten luncheon. ‘Your movements in this house will be watched carefully from this moment forward, for you will be going nowhere without my permission, I assure you!’
He turned on me. ‘As for you, Donna Sancha-you can begin packing your trunks this very instant. Clearly, King Federico does not wish to leave behind any of his belongings here, so you will be following your brother to Naples.’
My cheeks flushed hot. I rose, my voice cold but shaking with anger. ‘I will do as my husband tells me to do.’
‘Your husband’-Alexander loomed threateningly close-‘has no say in this household, as you well know. I expect you to vacate the palazzo no later than tomorrow, and take your Aragonese temper and arrogance with you.’ He wheeled about and stalked off with the vigour of a much younger man, his pages scrambling to follow.
Lucrezia was left to sit, stunned, staring down at the letter written by the man closest to her, who was by now so far away. I went to her, knelt, and threw my arms around her. I closed my eyes, for I could not bear to look on her face, where one could see her very heart breaking.
‘Sancha,’ she said, drawing in a breath. ‘Why can I not simply have a happy life with my husband? Am I such a wretched, awful woman, such a horrible wife that men should flee me so?’
‘No, my darling,’ I told her truthfully. ‘These are political matters that have everything to do with your father and Cesare, and nothing to do with you. I know how greatly Alfonso loves you. He has told me so many times.’
This only made her more sorrowful. ‘Ah, my Sancha, do not tell me you are leaving me, too.’
‘Dear Lucrezia,’ I murmured into her shoulder. ‘Sometimes, we are forced to do what we least desire.’
Jofre argued with his father, but we understood that it would do no good. Unlike Alfonso, I did not entreat my spouse to follow me: I do not believe Jofre felt confident enough to leave behind the only privilege he ever enjoyed- that of being a Borgia, if in name only.
That morning, I commanded all my servants to commence packing.
At nightfall, Jofre came to me in my chamber and sent Esmeralda and the servants away. ‘Sancha,’ he said, his voice trembling with emotion. ‘This is a horrid thing Father has done to you. I can never forgive him. And I will never be happy without you. I have been a pitiful husband; I am not ambitious or handsome, or strong of will, like Cesare-but I love you with all my soul.’
I flushed at the mention of Cesare and wondered whether Jofre had known of our affair. It would have been impossible to have lived in Rome without hearing the rumours, but I had hoped my husband-always wanting to believe the best of people-had ignored them.
‘Oh, Jofre,’ I replied. ‘How is it you have remained such a guileless soul in the midst of such deceit?’ I took him in my arms, and that night, he bedded me, for what might well have been the last time.
Jofre left before dawn. By noon of the following day, my servants had stored in trunks all I wanted; most of my finery and elaborate gowns I abandoned.
As I left my chambers en route to the waiting carriage, Lucrezia appeared in the corridor, her eyes red- rimmed.
‘Sister!’ she called as she approached. She was already slow of step, being four months with child. ‘Do not leave without allowing me to bid you goodbye!’
When she neared and threw her arms around me, I whispered, ‘You must not do this. The servants will see, and report this to the Pope-he will be angry.’
‘Damn Father,’ she said vehemently, as we embraced.
‘You are brave and kind to come,’ I said. ‘It breaks my heart to say farewell.’
‘Not farewell. Only goodbye,’ she countered. ‘I swear to you, we shall meet again. Upon my life, I will see you and Alfonso restored to good graces within this family. I will not let either of you go.’
I held her tightly. ‘My darling Lucrezia,’ I murmured, ‘you have my friendship and loyalty for life.’
‘And you mine,’ she proclaimed solemnly.
We drew apart to study each other, and she gave a forced little laugh. ‘Here now. Enough of sadness. We will meet again, and you will be by my side when your brother’s first child is born. Think on that happy time to come, and I shall do the same, each time sorrow threatens. Let us promise each other.’
I managed a smile. ‘I promise.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I will leave you now, with the knowledge that our separation will be a short one.’ She turned, with such courage and determination that I straightened my shoulders.
It was the year 1499. It had been rumoured by the common folk and proclaimed passionately from pulpits that God would see fit to end the world in the coming Jubilee Year of 1500. Surely it felt to me, as I prepared to leave the Palazzo Santa Maria under a pall of shame, that my own world was already ending…but in truth, the rumours were right. The end of my world was coming, but not until the following year.
Late Summer 1499
XXVIII
As I rode away from Rome, I held my head high. I refused all sense of embarrassment at having been banished so rudely by Alexander from the place I had come to know as home. Any shame belonged not to me or my brother, who were innocent of any wrongdoing, but to Cesare and his inconstant father. Even so, my heart ached at the thought of leaving Lucrezia and Jofre behind; I found no small irony in the fact that I, who had been so unhappy at
