It was not before I heard Lucrezia scream that I knew it was over. He was dead. Left alone for a moment – for all my servants had run down to the court – I let myself sink down onto the floor. The marble was cold, but it was nothing against the ice that filled my body, my heart, my soul, my entire being.
He was dead. I had lost my son. Why did I have to live just to see him die?
The walls around me moved closer, and I couldn't help but tear apart my precious clothes, the purple coat, the gold-seamed shirt. I threw my tiara away and screamed, my own voice seeming like a wolf's cry in my ears.
It was hard to breathe, and it was so wrong. It was all wrong…how could he have died? After all I sacrificed to get where I was now, after all it had taken me to become His Holiness, the pope, how could God let me suffer like that?
Moments and decades I lay on the cold floor, my tears burning where they rolled down my icy cheeks. I didn't care; I wished to be a stone.
Eventually I heard steps coming down the aisle, featherlike but slowly. Vanozza. Mother of the son I lost. I owed her to stand at my feet when she came.
As she entered the chamber, I saw my pain reflected in her eyes. Her beautiful face was distorted by grief. "Holy Father", she whispered, and then collapsed right into my arms, sobbing. I stroke her hair, taking in the familiar smell of her perfume.
"He's gone, my dear", I said and shuddered at my words. He was, he really was. My dearest son, my knight boy was dead.
"He's gone." Could it really be true?
"I know", Vanozza's voice was empty, almost incomprehensible. "I know it, Holy Father." She sobbed harder. "Our son is dead. He was stabbed from behind while defending his brother."
Her words killed me like the blade had killed Juan, over and over again.
"Who?" I asked hoarsely. Vanozza shook her head, desperately trying to win back her composure.
"I don't know. They don't know. Oh my sweet boy…why are you doing this to me?" she suddenly cried, her eyes turned wildly up, as if burning their way up to heaven where my fierce, passionate son now had to be.
"God, why did you have to take him? How can you say you love us when you make a mother bury her child? Why him?"
I knew I had to calm her, to stop her arguing with God. I was the pope after all.
It just didn't matter anymore. He had taken the most important person in my life, he had killed my son. I had sworn to protect him, right at the moment he was born, after days of waiting and hoping. I remembered the first time I held him in my arms. Juan had smiled at me, the same as he did when he grew up. Whatever happened, my son would smile and his smile would make the world lighter. With him gone I knew I would never heal.
"Why him?" Vanozza's voice was calm again now, but I saw in her face that the pain was far from fading. "I loved him", she whispered. "Three sons and one daughter I gave birth to, in pain and danger and love. I adore Lucrezia and I love all of my sons, you know that. I'd die for each of them. And still…"she fell silent.
"I know, my dear", I murmured. "He who has blessed us with our children has taken away the very best of them. Our greatest support, the worthiest of all the Borgia sons. Our most beloved."
I had not looked out of the window until now. Down in the court I still heard my daughter cry, her heart bleeding out like my own. I had to get down there, to Juan, I had to see him…hastily now I took Vanozza's arm and dragged her down the stairs.
As we reached the marble door that would lead me to my grave, she clasped my arm fiercely.
"Do you think it is our fault, Rodrigo?" Her voice was filled with pain again, and with fear. Looking at her still beautiful face I saw the courtesan of my youth again.
I knew the question she would ask, but unlike that day 25 years ago, I wasn't sure what to answer.
"Do we love too much? Is it our pride, the pride of having each other that will turn God against us?"
I shrugged, shook my head but could not speak a word.
Though I had been crowned the pope half a year ago, there was never a way so long and so hard to walk as was mine from the door to the grass where Lucrezia lay, crying over her brother's corpse. Joffre cried, too, curled up in Bella Giulia's lap. For once, Vanozza didn't mind her rival being there. The women exchanged one glance out of puffy red eyes, and then Vanozza broke down beside her daughter.
I still didn't see Juan's face. I didn't see my elder son either. Where was he now, when the world had come to an end?
"Cesare!" I wanted to shout, but all energy had left me. Who cared for Cesare now, after all? It was not him I needed to live again.
"Why?" Lucrezia turned her wet face to me. All hope had left. "Why?" she repeated. "Why must God take away the most important person in my life? Is it because I left my husband? Did he die because of me?"
I swallowed hard as I noticed her speaking out loud exactly what I had thought.
Then, as Vanozza hugged her tightly, I got to look at the dead's face.
Cesare.
The floor gave way, but my heart raced up, flying. Relief washed over me, though mixed with grief. One single tear rolled down my face, born both of joy and sadness.
I smiled. God was great indeed. He let me suffer, he took my supporter in business, but he let me keep my supporter in life and heart. Knowing that Juan was alive, I knew that Rome was mine. Knowing that Juan was alive, I knew everything was possible. One day we all would heal from the loss of Cesare, and the world would be ours again.
Lucrezia squirmed free of her mother's arms. Struggling to stop the sobs for a moment, she looked at her brother's corpse, the expression on her face pure love.
"My Abaelard", she whispered, and, as she gently caressed his blood-stained face.
"I love you, Cesare. I have always loved you, and I always will. I will never heal."