1.1 Wasted Hours
Lucrezia was lying on the freshly cut grass in the courtyard of the palazzo Santa Maria in Portico and watching the clear, spring sky. Sunlight made her squint as she counted the clouds slipping lazily across the horizon. All was quiet. Under her palms the grass was dry and the sun warmed her freckled face. Her hair, long and yellow, was spilt about her shoulders as it absorbed the heat.
What do the skies see?, she wondered as she gazed at the unfathomable blue space. Do they see men, women and children or only a speckled vastness like on the maps she saw in Cesare's quarters or papa's miniature globe, a gift from cardinal Colonna. They must see only dots, she decided as she searched the clouds for faces and objects. We're so tiny, like grains of sand and it is a miracle in itself that the Lord can see us, she thought.
Lucrezia blinked and a saw a long black shadow towering over her. It was her brother, Cesare. She did not hear him approach. He lay in the grass beside her.
„Priestly robes deafen the sound of your steps, dear brother", she told him with a smile.
„Are you searching the skies in the hopes of seeing faces, Lucrezia? Have you found any?"
„Yes", she said as she turned upon her side, so that she could face him. „I saw yours and papa's."
„Are you so determined to place us amongst saints, dear sis?"
She smiled. „You're already amongst them."
„And you...", his voice trailed off, „are you intending to join us? To wear the simple gown of a nun instead of a wedding dress..."
„And become a bride of Christ?", she scoffed jokingly. „You think my faith firmer than it is, Cesare."
„It's surely better to be bride of Christ than of that Sforza ass", he muttered.
„You cannot convince me that marrying the lord Sforza would be such awful a fate", she was determined.
„You would leave us", Cesare looked down, suddenly finding the grass to be of much interest to him.
Lucrezia sighed. She cast a side glance upon Cesare's gloomy face.
„Papa says two years shall pass before I am obliged to join the lord Sforza at Pesaro."
Cesare found this to be of little comfort. „I think a year would be more appropriate, sis."
He could feel her anxiety flutter in the warm air like a trapped butterfly.
„Papa promised!"
„And you well know he can break promises, my love. You are fourteen. Almost a woman."
Her hands tugged at his black robes, seeking comfort. The natural response of his body followed, his hand covered her white palms. A stray tear ran down her cheek; Cesare's fingers caught it before it reached the corner of her lips.
„I shall be most unhappy", she complained.
„My sweet Lucrezia...", he heard himself say. He wanted to speak words of solace, to alleviate her morose mood but it was to no avail. Instead of speaking he pulled her into a hug. She reciprocated momentarily and placed her arms on his chest, snuggling close, and settled with her head in the crook of his neck. Her face was wet against his skin and her breathing hitched.
„Calm down, tesoro1", he whispered as he stroked her hair.
She stilled in his arms, suddenly tired. „I should fall asleep, dear brother", she muttered. Cesare allowed himself a small smile.
„Then we must not allow the sun to burn you, my love", he answered and before she knew it, she was swept up in his arms. She allowed him to carry her back to her chambers and pressed her face into his black, satin robe and inhaled.
Later, when she woke, she could not recall being placed to bed but she was at peace with herself.
The feeling of consolation did not leave her in the days that followed.
*tesoro - treasure