The Family - Mario Puzo [54]
As for a sharp mind, how important could that be in determining the direction of his life? His sister, Lucrezia, was far superior to him in mental ability, yet she had no greater choice in her life than he had. Reflecting on the condition of his family, Jofre concluded that intelligence was far less important than the counsel of a pure heart and a good soul.
Juan had always been the most unkind of his siblings, calling him names from the time he was a small child, and consenting only to play games he knew he could easily win. Cesare was sometimes driven by his obligation as a prince of the Holy Roman Catholic Church to reprimand Jofre for his excesses; yet he did so with a firm kindness, rather than with the cruelty and appetite for humiliation Juan so often showed. His sister, Lucrezia, was his favorite, for she treated him with a sweet and gentle affection, and always made him feel as though she was pleased to see him. His father, the Pope, hardly seemed to notice him.
Now, feeling restless again, Jofre resolved to go in search of Sancia. He would persuade her to return with him to their cottage. He stood and began to walk the narrow path between the trees, which served for a moment to calm him. But just outside the campgrounds, beneath the dark night sky, he saw two dark shadows. He was tempted to call out, to greet them, but something caused him to stop.
He heard her laugh before he saw her clearly. Then the bright night moon highlighted his brother Juan and his wife, Sancia, walking arm in arm. Soundlessly, he turned and followed them back toward the cottage. There he watched as Juan and Sancia stopped to embrace. Jofre felt his lip curl in disdain. He kept himself stiff and still as he watched his brother bend to kiss Sancia passionately in parting.
At that moment, Jofre found Juan contemptible. But more than that, he saw in Juan some unholy thing. And so, with complete resolve, he condemned him in his heart and vowed to denounce him as a brother. Suddenly he could see with a brilliant clarity; there was no longer any doubt. As the seed of the Christ had been sown in the womb of the Virgin Mother by the Holy Ghost, so the pit of evil can also be planted—unknown and unrecognized—until the time of discovery, when the fruit of the womb is exposed.
Now his brother began to walk away, and in a rare moment of high spirits Juan pulled his dagger from its sheath and waved it in a swift swirling motion. Then Juan laughed as he bragged loudly to Sancia, “Soon I will be captain general of the papal army, and then you shall see what I do!”
Jofre shook his head and tried to restrain his fury. After some time he managed to quiet himself. Then, with an unnatural dispassion, he tried to reason: Senseless battles for political gain didn’t interest him; they were not enjoyable and in fact, they bored him. To use a weapon to take another’s life, chancing eternal damnation for some military goal, made no sense. To risk that, he thought, the prize must be far more precious and personal.
Cesare, too, was restless. His conversation with Lucrezia weighed heavily on his heart, and he found that he could not fall asleep. When he inquired, he found that the Pope had already retired to his quarters. Still, he felt he must speak to his father.
In his suite the Pope was sitting at his desk, reading and signing official papers presented to him by a pair of secretaries, who were dismissed summarily at Cesare’s entry into his father’s chambers. Marveling at his father’s energy, Cesare advanced toward him to receive an embrace. A five-log fire blazed in the enormous fireplace.
The Pope was already in his sleeping costume: a long woolen nightgown covered over by a richly embroidered silk robe lined with fur, which he claimed retained his body heat and protected him against the malarial winds of Rome. On his head was a small ruby-colored biretta, unadorned. Alexander often said that though a Pope, for reasons of state, must always show the riches of the church in public, he could at least sleep as simply as a peasant.