I assisted in serving lunch to Madonna Lucrezia and her brother, the Archbishop of Valencia. As ever, they were happy to be in each other’s company, and it made me glad to see their obvious, easy affection. Some things in the world could still be simple. Being in their presence was the first time I had felt my confused, muddled thoughts of Federico quiet and recede in my mind.
Unfortunately, these thoughts were replaced by flashes of that damnable dream. Cesare Borgia above me … his eyes looking down into mine as he …
Stop it, Maddalena, I scolded, lowering my gaze in the hopes of hiding my reddening cheeks. I did not want another week of only bread and water as penance, now, did I?
If I must think such lustful thoughts, they should be of Federico. He would soon be my husband, and any such imaginings would be easily forgiven.
Yet my eyes continually strayed to the archbishop whenever I thought he would not notice. He was impossibly handsome, and so kind and loving toward his sister. A fine man indeed, as I had been so bold to tell him once.
At one point I stole a glance at him, only to find him already looking back at me, seeming to study me. I blushed as our eyes locked, and he gave me a warm smile and a nod. I quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught but elated that he had been looking at me.
After the meal, I removed the dishes and assisted with their washing as Madonna Lucrezia and her brother adjourned to another room to continue their conversation. Once everything in the kitchen was back in order, I made my way upstairs to continue my mending tasks for that day. As I approached the sitting room where I usually worked, I came upon the archbishop leaving that very room. I curtsied, eyes cast down as I murmured, “Your Excellency.”
I expected him to merely pass me by, but instead he stopped before me. “Rise, per favore,” he said. “I was coming to find you, Maddalena.”
My heart began to pound inordinately fast. “You … you were?”
“Indeed. I’ve a … rather delicate question to ask. Please walk with me, if you would. I would not want my sister to overhear.”
My breath caught in my throat as I followed him. What delicate matter could the Archbishop of Valencia have to discuss with the likes of me?
I knew well what wealthy and powerful men—even churchmen—often asked of their female servants, but His Excellency did not seem the type. Yet what other “delicate matter” could he possibly have in mind? My heart pounded even faster, and though I tried to tell myself it was with fear, it did not feel true.
He paused within the entryway of the palazzo and glanced quickly about. “I shall not keep you from your duties long,” he said. “I hoped you might answer a question for me. It may be you do not know the answer, in which case I beg you to simply be truthful.”
Perhaps my initial guess had been wrong. “I shall assist however I can, Your Excellency.”
“Good.” He lowered his voice and stepped closer. I shivered slightly at his nearness. “I would know whether or not Giovanni Sforza has consummated his marriage to my sister.”
I sagged at his words and told myself it was from relief and not disappointment. “He has not, Your Excellency, though I do not know why,” I said. “It has been a source of great distress to Madonna Lucrezia.”
The archbishop closed his eyes briefly in relief. “Good. That is what I had hoped to hear.”
Suddenly I remembered my previous puzzled reasoning: a marriage can be easily put aside if it was never consummated. Oh, dear. It seemed that was indeed what the archbishop—and by extension, surely, His Holiness—had planned for my mistress. How I wished I did not know!
“Say nothing to Lucrezia of this,” the archbishop advised me. “I do thank you profusely for your information.” He slipped a gold coin into my hand.
Even as I slid the coin into the pocket of my apron, the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I thank you for your generosity, Your Excellency. But Madonna Lucrezia puts her trust in me, and in future I would not wish to jeopardize that trust by spying on her and her affairs for anyone. Not,” I added boldly, “even her own brother.”
He paused and scrutinized me, his gaze impassable. I met his gaze evenly, but inwardly I was already regretting my words. Surely I would be dismissed, and Federico and I would leave Rome forthwith.
But I owed Lucrezia Borgia a great deal, and grand lady or no, pope’s daughter or no, she was entitled to keep private her personal business.
Yet I was surprised to see a wide grin spread over the archbishop’s face. He chuckled, shaking his head. “I admire your loyalty, Maddalena,” he said. “I was right to send you to serve my sister, and she is well served by you indeed.” He donned his bishop’s cap and nodded to me. “I shall take your wishes into account in the future, as much as I am able. And I thank you for your service, both to Lucrezia and to me.”
With that, he turned and left, and I could only gape after him, marveling at my good fortune and at the odd mixture of relief and regret roiling in my belly.
I tried to put the Archbishop of Valencia from my mind after that. I found the reaction I had to his presence disturbing, and it would do no good to dwell on it. I did not want to have to confess any more sinful dreams. Once had been embarrassing enough.
Yet when I succeeded in banishing Cesare Borgia from my mind, my thoughts returned to Federico—a proper topic, as he was my betrothed. But I found such thoughts no less troubling, for reasons I could not quite identify. So I focused on my embroidery, began stealing even more time to work on it—new handkerchiefs, even a fine set of sleeves for myself. I’d work late into the night, dreading the moment I would lay down to sleep and all my confusion and uncertainty would come rushing back. Even this made me feel guilty. Should I not meet these disquietudes head on, push through them, and emerge to the other side, at peace with my decision?
Was there any way through this thicket of doubt?
Federico and I continued to meet as often as our respective duties permitted. I still enjoyed his company, found him charming and amusing and handsome. Yet I found myself wishing I had accepted his offer for time to consider his proposal. Why had I been so hasty?
I knew deep down there was no reason to say no. I cared for Federico, and he for me. Marriage was a most desirable state according to the Church, especially for a woman. Upon my marriage to Ernesto, Uncle Cristiano told me, Matrimony is a holy state, Maddalena, and the one that God wishes for his flock. I knew this to be true. I also knew the marriage bed was the one place I could satisfy my desires without sin.
And yet.