The Pope's Daughter

Chapter 4

Vatican City, Italy - 14 August 1492

“Papa!”

After the ceremony, the recently ordained Pope Alexander VI sent for his children, as expected. Lucrezia did not hide her joy as she saw her father for the first time as the Holy Father, waiting for them at the Pope’s private chambers. She ran to him, as the twelve-year old girl she was, and he opened his arms to let his little girl hug him.

“My princess!” he exclaimed. “You look so very beautiful, Lucrezia! I swear to God, you’ve grown so much! You’re practically a woman now!”

Geoffrei also ran to hug his father, grabbing the red velvet of his new robes.

“And you, my little boy,” the Pope said kindly, taking his youngest son in his arms. “How very handsome you look in your new clothes. Are you happy?”

“Yes, Papa,” Geoffrei said proudly.

“You are another one who has been growing too fast.” He sighed, putting the boy back on the ground. “Only yesterday you were a baby in the cradle, now look at you... Well, I am growing old, of course.”

Giovanni and Cesare stepped forward and kneeled before their father, to receive his blessing. The Pope put his hand, now beautifully adorned with the Ring of the Fisherman, on the heads of his elder sons, and made a sign for them to rise. He sat on his chair, admiring his four children standing before him, looking as proud as an Emperor.

“Mother sent her love and regards,” Cesare said. “She hopes you know how very happy she is that the will of God has been done, and that she is a humble servant of God, and of yours.”

Lucrezia’s father looked down with a timid smile. “Your mother is a good woman,” he replied simply. “Do not think I will forget her. She, after all, gave me the most beautiful children one could ever ask for. She too shall be highly regarded for this.”

Giovanni made a low disdainful sound, but everyone ignored him.

“Now, I must make arrangements for you all,” he continued, now the tenderness in his voice completely gone and a very serious intonation took place. “Giovanni, I am giving you the Dukedom of Gandia, in Spain. You will be now Duke of Gandia.”

Giovanni smiled, bowing low. “Thank you, Holy Father, I am glad to accept this honour.”

“As for you, Cesare,” the Pope said, looking at his second son. “As you are a devoted student in Pisa and already Bishop of Pamplona, I believe it is time to raise your religious ambitions. I shall nominate you Archbishop of Valencia.”

Cesare, unlike his brother, did not smile; he simply bowed to his father and mumbled a ‘Thank you, Holy Father’.

“And you, my beauty.” The Pope turned to Lucrezia. “I was thinking, Lucrezia, that your current betrothal to the Count of Procida is not equivalent to your current ranking. I shall have it annulled, and instead, you shall be betrothed to Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro and Gradara.”

Cesare made an instinctive move with his hand.

“Father, to Giovanni?” he asked. “He must be twice Lucrezia’s age, and he is a bastard! A spiteful, arrogant man! How can you give Lucrezia to a man like Giovanni Sforza?!”

“He is a lord of the House of Sforza,” the Pope said without emotion. “A fine match for your sister. You should be happy for her. She will be married into one of the most powerful and richest Houses of Italy. She will be Lady Lucrezia Sforza.”