Lucrezia

Lucrezia Borgia is known as an incestuous, murderous whore.  She was the daughter of Pope Alexander VI (otherwise known as Rodrigo Borgia) and her family was far from holy.  The Pope wasn’t even married, yet lived with the woman who gave birth to his four children, and he had several women on the side.  This never made sense to me because to me he was just my best friend’s father, undesirable to say the least.  Yes, Lucrezia Borgia was my best friend as a child.  She wasn’t always a horrible witch but there was a fire deep in her soul.  She had the potential to become a promiscuous murderer, and I’m the one who started the flame.

     It was in 1492, her father was about to be crowned Pope and we were both twelve years old.  I stood with my mother, outside the church, waiting for the ceremony to start.  Lucrezia was inside with her three brothers.  Cesare was seventeen, Juan was fifteen, and Gioffre was ten.  Out of the three of them, I was closest with Cesare.  Lucrezia and I were both in love with his best friend, Antonio di Franco.

     “Lady Isabella Calasso, how do you do today?”  A voice behind me asked.  I turned around to see Antonio.

     “I am well.”  I said.  I wondered why he was talking to me; he seemed to favor Lucrezia over me.  I couldn’t blame him, she was stunning.  She had porcelain skin, light blonde hair, blue eyes, and blood red lips.  I was opposite; I had light olive skin, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and pink lips.  I was often told I was beautiful, but not as beautiful as Lucrezia. 

     “It’s quite a beautiful day, perfect for a papal coronation.”  He said.

     “I agree,” I said, looking for my father.  My father was one of the cardinals and Rodrigo’s best friend.  It was only natural for me to become best friends with his daughter, who was my age.  I looked at Lucrezia when I walked into the cathedral and she waved to me.  She wore the most beautiful gown I had ever seen.  It was made of beautiful Venetian silk in Venetian blue.  It was lined in gold and pearls, she wore a pearl cross around her neck and her hair draped halfway down her back, making her appear as an angel.  My dress of maroon velvet and gold paled in comparison.

     “Can you find your father?”  Antonio asked.  His father was also a cardinal.

     “No,” I said.  “But Lucrezia looks amazing, she always does.”

     “You’re much prettier than her,” Antonio said.

     “No I am not,” I laughed.  “Lucrezia is fair as an angel.”

     “She’s a bore, like every other girl in Rome,” he said.  “People only think she’s different because of her father.”

     “That’s a lie,” I said.

     He waited for my mother to leave before he says anything else.  He whispered in my ear, “You’re wrong, and if you come to my bed tonight I will prove it to you.”

     I spent the entire mass hung up over what Antonio had said.  Did he really believe I was prettier than Lucrezia, the most beautiful girl in the world?  Did he really say he would welcome me to his bed tonight?  That completely defied the Church, even though nobody here took it seriously.  Very few girls were actually virgins on their wedding nights since the men in Vatican City were notoriously promiscuous.

     There was a ball after the mass where I met Lucrezia.

     “My God that was boring,” Lucrezia hugged me.  “I thought the mass would never end.”

     “You’re the daughter of the Pope now, learn to enjoy it.”  I hugged her back.

     “I don’t think I ever will, it’s dreadfully boring,” she said.  “I’m just happy because this means I’m the most desirable virgin in court.”