The Family - Mario Puzo [19]
Pope Alexander VI, having set the destinies of his sons in motion, knew he must now begin to establish his daughter’s position in his grand plan. He carefully considered what he must do. Lucrezia was not yet a woman, just thirteen, but he could wait no longer. He must promise to betroth her to Giovanni Sforza, duke of Pesaro. He had already promised her to two young Spaniards when he was cardinal. But his political position had changed once he became Pope, and he had to plan carefully in order to secure the accommodation of Milan. His previous promises to the young men from Spain must be broken as amicably as possible.
Lucrezia was the most valuable asset he had in his marital alliances. And the twenty-six-year-old Giovanni, just widowed, his wife dead from childbirth, was a natural prospect. He must work quickly, for Giovanni’s uncle, Il Moro, was the most powerful man in Milan. He must be made a friend before he aligned with the foreign kings of either Spain or France.
Alexander knew that if he was unable to unite the many feudal city-states into one Italy ruled by the laws of the Holy See, the Turkish barbarians—the Infidel—would surely conquer them. They would move toward the Roman territories if they were given an opportunity. So many souls would be lost, and so much revenue would leave the one true church. But most important, if he could not maintain the people’s loyalty and protect Rome from the invasion of foreigners, if he could not use his papacy to increase the power of the Holy Mother Church, another cardinal—no doubt, Giuliano della Rovere—would take his place as Pope and his entire family would be in grave danger. Surely they would be accused of heresy and tortured in order to dispose of them. The fortune in possessions he had worked so hard for, over so many years, would be stolen, and they would be left with nothing. That was a far worse fate than the one his lovely daughter was about to endure.
After spending a sleepless night pacing up and down in his chambers, kneeling at his altar praying for divine guidance and considering his plan from all sides, he called for his children: Cesare, Juan, and Lucrezia. Jofre was still too young, and not the brightest of his boys. This strategy would only confuse him.
When they were in the company of strangers Lucrezia would curtsy to her father, kiss his ring, and kneel before him to show her respect, but whenever they were alone, she would run to him and throw her arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly. Oh, that dear child did pull at his heart.
Today, instead of embracing her in return, Pope Alexander pushed her back and held her arms until she stood straight in front of him.
“What’s wrong, Papa?” she asked, her expression showing her surprise. She was desolate whenever she thought her father was unhappy with her. At thirteen, she was tall for a girl, and a true beauty, with skin as pale as porcelain and features so fine they looked as though they had been painted by Raphael. Her light eyes sparkled with intelligence, and she flowed gracefully each time she moved. Lucrezia was the light of her father’s life; when she was present it was much more difficult for the Pope to think of scripture and strategy.
“Papa,” Lucrezia repeated impatiently, “What’s wrong? What have I done to displease you?”
“You must marry soon,” he told her simply.
“Oh, Papa,” Lucrezia said, falling to her knees, “I can’t leave you yet. I will not live.”
Alexander stood up and lifted his daughter from her knees, holding her close, comforting the crying child. “Shh, shh,” he whispered. “Lucrezia, I must make this alliance, but that does not mean you must go away just yet. Now, dry your tears and allow Papa to explain.”
She sat at his feet on a gold cushion and listened as he spoke. “The Sforza family of Milan is very powerful, and Il Moro’s nephew, young Giovanni, has just lost his wife