Rome, May 1497
It was a small family dinner, Father and I venturing to Santa Maria in Portico this time. Father enjoyed dining with us this way; for when he hosted his children in the Vatican, he still had to be the pope, and stand upon a certain amount of ceremony. So sometimes he preferred to come through the secret passage into Palazzo Santa Maria in Portico, dressed as a nobleman rather than the pope, to dine with us there in ease.
Neither Sancia nor Giulia Farnese were present, out of respect for Lucrezia’s husband having vanished—it was only Father and his children (though Juan, true to form, snuck out early, saying he had an “appointment” to attend to). We had all been especially attentive to Lucrezia of late, upset as she was by her husband’s departure—and by our plans for her. Father had been somewhat annoyed I had revealed the plan to her before he could, but understood why I had done it.
I caught a glimpse of Maddalena Moretti flitting past the door, assisting in the service of the meal that evening. I still could not believe I had been cowed by a serving girl more than once now, but mostly I admired her for her kind heart, and her steadfast loyalty to my sister. Maddalena had been right that day, and I wrong. I would have resented anyone else who put me in such a position, but for some reason, unbeknownst even to me, she was exempt.
As the meal was coming to a close, with Juan already departed and Lucrezia and Jofre still at the table with our father, laughing and recounting old family stories, I excused myself and said I meant to retire early. In truth, I meant to seek out Sancia. It had been some time since we had been able to meet, and I was aching—both in my heart and other parts of my body. I was hoping to ask her to come to my rooms that night.
I would often wonder, afterward, what would have become of us all had I not gone to find her.
I first checked the sitting room where Lucrezia, Sancia, and Giulia often spent part of their days, and where they received visitors. She was not there.
Since I was nearby, I went to her rooms and asked her maid if Sancia was within, but the girl would only say she was not. Where could she be? Perhaps she and Giulia had been invited out somewhere, though no one had mentioned it.
I went back down to the ground floor, puzzled and frustrated and intending to see myself out. Yet as I passed one of the smaller receiving rooms, I heard noises within. Something I recognized, but that seemed wildly out of context for that moment and place.
I suppose I thought—if indeed I had any conscious thoughts about it at all—I would open the door and surprise a pair of servants, who thought they might take their pleasure in one of the finer rooms while the household was distracted. What I never imagined was the scene that greeted me as I opened the door to the room.
A man’s back, clothed in a crimson velvet doublet that looked awfully familiar, faced me. His hose had been lowered so I could see his pale buttocks, heaving as he thrust into the woman who was seated on a daybed and had her legs wrapped around his lower back.
I could see the woman’s face over the man’s shoulder, her eyes closed in ecstasy, her breath coming in sharp, short little pants that she was trying to keep quiet. Sancia.
And Juan.
Juan must have heard the door open, for he turned his head to glance over his shoulder, all without ceasing his thrusting. Upon seeing it was me, he merely grinned and turned away, back to the task at hand.
My hands clenched into fists, and had I been possessed of my dagger or sword, I would have dragged him off her and killed him, cutting off his manhood for good measure. I had half a mind to pull him off anyway and beat him to a bloody pulp. Yet then Sancia opened her eyes, and when the haze of her passion faded and she saw me standing there, she gasped aloud in consternation, even as Juan kept pumping away between her thighs. “Juan,” she gasped, pulling on his sleeve. “Juan, we must…”
I did not stay to hear more. I turned and left the room, letting the door bang shut behind me, and left the palazzo by the main entrance and began to walk back to the Vatican. I walked as quickly as I could, my body so rigid with fury I felt as if I might shatter into a thousand pieces. I walked away from Santa Maria in Portico as fast as my legs could carry me, so I did not return to that awful, hellish room and do something I would regret.