The Pope's Daughter

Chapter 7

‘God’s wish.’

Lucrezia was sitting with her husband at the dinner table, but she barely touched the food on her plate. There were too many things inside her mind, and she couldn’t bother to interrupt her divagations.

‘It is God’s wish.’

She had heard those words before, and blindly believed that her father could tell what God’s wishes were. He was, after all, his highest disciple, the Pope of Rome, and Lucrezia learned that he was always right. But after that afternoon, she was not so sure anymore.

She believed it was God’s will that her father would become Pope, to rule His Church rightfully and get rid of the evil that surrounded the men of God. She believed his father’s intentions were to do good, and to always follow God’s commandments, to set an example to the rest of His herd. How could he order a man to be killed then, without even a fair trial or a reason apart from the fact he suspected said man was hurting his daughter? Lucrezia knew there were women in worse marriages than hers, with husbands who took pleasure in beating their faces until they bled; Sforza never did that. It did not diminish her dislike for him, but it meant something to her on that time of moral crisis.

“You look pale,” Sforza said, looking at his young wife in a rare moment of interest. “And you’ve barely eaten. Are you ill?”

That was what made up her mind.

“No,” she said. “But I would like to have a private word with you, husband.”

He raised an eyebrow; Lucrezia had never asked to speak with him.

“Leave us,” he told the servants and the ladies-in-waiting around the table, who rushed to obey. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath.

“You must leave Rome.”

“What’s that nonsense?”

“My father will issue an order to execute you?”

Sforza’s face went to pale to red within seconds.

“What?! Why would he do such a thing?! What have you said to him, Lucrezia?!”

“Nothing.” She was being completely honest. “I swear. I overheard him talking to Cesare. He said... your presence at the papal court is no longer relevant. And they will find something against you to charge you with treason. If you have anything on you, then you must leave Rome.”

His eyes showed that the man was up to his neck with things against the Pope.

“You heard this today?”

“This afternoon,” she confirmed.

“Why are you telling me this?”

For a brief moment, their eyes met; Lucrezia could see his honest confusion. He knew, she thought, that he was nothing but unkind to her, and that the fact she was trying to save him was unnatural for a wife who had endured what she had endured.

“It is not fair,” she replied simply. “I may not be the Pope of Rome, but I believe this is not God’s will. Besides, even if I did so unwillingly, I vowed to be loyal.”

He didn’t reply; instead, he watched Lucrezia attentively, evaluating her honesty.

“I will not have anyone’s blood dirtying my hands,” she said, coldly. “Especially yours.”

That was enough for Sforza to believe her.

“I must fetch some belongings and order my horses,” he said. “Get dressed and have the maids to pack your things as well.”