The Family - Mario Puzo [134]
Less than one month after Alfonso’s death, Pope Alexander began the search for another husband for Lucrezia. Though it may have been heartless, he was determined to plan for her future, for in the event of his death he did not want her to find herself a helpless widow forced to eat from clay plates rather than silver.
Alexander called Duarte into his chambers to talk about the possibilities. “What do you think about Louis de Ligny?” Alexander asked. “He is, after all, a cousin of the king of France.”
Duarte said simply, “I don’t believe Lucrezia will find him acceptable.”
The Pope sent a message to Lucrezia in Nepi.
And received a message in return, which read, “I will not live in France.”
Next Alexander suggested Francisco Orsini, duke of Gravina.
Lucrezia’s return message read, “I do not wish to marry.”
When the Pope sent another message asking for her reasons, her reply was simple. “All my husbands are unlucky, and I do not wish another on my conscience.”
The Pope called again for Duarte. “She is simply impossible,” he said. “She is willful and irritating. I will not live forever, and if I die, only Cesare will be left to care for her.”
Duarte said, “She seems to get on well with Jofre, and Sancia too. She may need more time to recover from her grief. Call her back to Rome, and then you will have the opportunity to ask her to consider what you suggest. A new husband comes too close to the old, and Nepi is too far from Rome.”
The weeks passed slowly as Lucrezia tried to recover from her grief and find a reason to go on living. Finally one night, as she lay in bed reading by the light of her candles, her brother Jofre came to sit beside her bed.
Jofre’s thatched blond hair was hidden beneath a cap of green velvet, and his light eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. Lucrezia knew he had begged to retire early, and therefore found it peculiar that he was dressed in fresh clothes as though he was going out. But before she had any chance to question him he began to speak, as though his words were being forced from his lips.
“I have done things I am ashamed of,” he told her. “And for those I judge myself. No God would judge me so. And I have done things for which our father would judge me, yet I have never judged him so.”
Lucrezia sat up straighter in bed, her own eyes swollen from weeping. “What could you have done, little brother, that our father could judge? For, of the four of us, you were the least attended to, and the sweetest of all.”
Jofre looked at her, and she was witness to his struggle. He had waited so long to confess, and of anyone he most trusted her. “I cannot bear to carry this sin on my soul any longer,” he said. “For I’ve held it far too long.”
Lucrezia reached for his hand, for in his eyes she saw such confusion and guilt it made her own misery seem less. “What is it that so troubles you?” she asked.
“You will despise me for this truth,” he said. “If I speak of this to anyone but you, my life will be lost. Yet if I do not unburden myself, I fear I will go mad, or my soul will be lost. And for me that holds an even greater terror.”
Lucrezia was puzzled. “What is this sin that is so terrible it causes you to tremble?” she asked. “You can place your trust in me. I vow no danger will befall you, for your truth will never pass my lips.”
Jofre looked at his sister, and fell into a stutter. “It was not Cesare who killed our brother Juan.”
Lucrezia quickly placed her fingers to his lips. “Do not speak another word, my brother. Do not speak the words I can hear within my heart, for I have known you since you were the babe I held. But I am desperate to ask, what could be so dear that it would call for such an act?”
Jofre put his head on his sister’s chest and allowed her to hold him gently