posted August 30, 2017 11:29 PM            

Lucrezia Borgia was the daughter of Pope Alexander VI and his mistress; Vanozza De Catanei. Lucrezia didn't call her parents as Mother and Father, rather their first names. And she called her mother Vanita because her name was so close to the Italian word for beauty.
It was common in these times for Cardinals and Popes to have mistresses and have illegitimate children. Though Pope Alexander VI, the name Rodrigo Borgia took was the only one to ever acknowledge publicly his illegitimate children.
Vanozza Dei Cattannei also had her own husband, but it was accepted that she and Rodrigo Borgia slept together even so. In these times, if a more powerful man took an interest in one's Wife, there was nothing he could do. And this was especially true in Italy.

A Bonny Fine Maid of a Noble Decree,
Maid Marian called by name
Did live in the North of excellent worth
For she was a gallant dame

For favor and face of beauty most rare,
Queen Helen she did exel;
For Marian then was praised of all men
That did in the country dwell-

From the Ballad of Robin Hood and Maid Marian first written by an anonymous author, recreated by Estampie.

A woman is to conform to what society requires of her. A woman is to hold her tongue when need be, a woman is to be prim, proper and chaste. She is to be kind and gentle. A woman is to be the weaker sex. A woman is to born to serve. A woman is not to be me.
I was free, gaudy, daring, outspoken, wild and thrill seeking. Though, I could act in the ways of a woman when I wanted. Especially when I was brought affront Rodrigo and the Cardinals, but my real self always lingered out around Vanita and my brothers. I know not what led to these things. Perhaps it was because I had four brothers and no sister, none I knew personally anyway, and no less was the middle of them all. Or maybe it was the fact that Vanita rented her house out to the harlotts, lechers, drunkards, and artists of Rome. Or perhaps it was even because of the time spent around my father's mistress who had replaced Vanita in his heart; Guilia Farnese. Whatever the reason, I most certainly was not like most women.
My looks were most certainly gorgeous at first sight of me, men lost their breaths. I had golden hair that ran past my knees. My complexion was beautiful, milky and fair with hazel eyes and full rosy cheeks. And they called my walk an angel's a gracefulness that seemed to appear as if I strode on air. Yes I truly was a goddess.
Think you vain when I speak of myself? Yes perhaps, but when you are the daughter of the pope, are you not entitled to such things?
Yes the Daughter of the Pope, it would forever be a blessing and curse to my life.
God gave me to this world in the year of our Lord 1480 on the date of April 18th. My mother one of the many mistresses and most beloved of Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia. Indeed of all his illegitimate children and there were many, he acknowledged only the children of Vanita.
I loved Vanita. Her named was Vanozza, but Rodrigo called her Vanita. I think back as if it were only yesterday.
At four, I was sitting in my Mother's bedroom and Rodrigo had his shirt off seated on an ivory chair close to the window, Gioffre, my younger brother, and I were sitting beneath the table watching them. Vanita had her dress low and Rodrigo would occasionally squeeze one of her breasts and then she would give him a playful womanly punch.
"Rodrigo, darling do you think it fit to do this affront Lucrezia and Gioffre?"
"Can't say my love," he spoke. "All I know is Gioffre sees them all the time when he suckles. Its my turn with them." And she giggled. I laughed along. I adored Vanita and Rodrigo. It may seem strange that I didn't call them Mama and Papa, but that was the thing. They talked to each other in such romantic ways addressing their names that it just seemed natural to call them such. It rolled off the tongue beautifully.
"And how is my daughter," he asked charmingly."
"Very well Rodrigo, thank you," I said.
"Give us a dance then Lucrezia," he declared as if he were a King ordering his fool.
I jumped up and did a tiny jig that was most certainly a child's attempt at a good dance. I wanted so badly to impress my elegant parents.
Vanita and Rodrigo looked at each other and giggled. They kissed. I collapsed back on the floor and watched them in fascination.
"Your daughter is grown more beautiful then yourself, Vanita."
"Our daughter," she said with emphasis and adoring of him.
"Yes our daughter, our perfect little daughter."
The bells rang. I hated the bells. It meant that Rodrigo was called away for his Cardinal duties. When they came, he would leave swiftly to go the Cistine Chapel only four miles away from the Piazzo Pizzo di Merlo. Sometimes Rodrigo even walked.
He stood up and looked towards St. Peter's Basilica where the bells were rung.
"Rodrigo, darling, must you go?" She pouted. He kissed her. "I must love, I will return soon. He picked Gioffre and I up in either arm. "Goodbye little ones, may the Virgin keep you safe always."
He gave Juan and Cesare on his way out a ruffle on the hair, because they insisted they were too old for hugs and kisses. We all stood in the doorway watching him go. Vanita held Gioffre in her arms and tears streaked her eyes.
Once I asked Vanita of it. I was five.
"Most married couples are together always. She was washing her dishes, and she closed her eyes and gave a chuckle of defeat. "I'm not your father's Wife Lucrezia, I have a husband, who not in the slightest knows how to love a woman," she added. It greatly shocked me.
"But you two act like Husband and Wife," spoke I queerly. She gave another laugh.
"Oh Lucrezia, too smart for your own good, just like Rodrigo."
"But you two are lovers."
"Where did you hear that word?" She asked a strange expression on her face.
"Juan, he says when he grows up he's going to have many lovers." She laughed hard.
"Oh God that boy, perhaps he will, it would not surprise me. Well Lucrezia, I am not your father's Wife, I am his courtesan.
"What's a Coor-te-san?" I asked trying to pronounce the word.
"Cardinals are not to have Wives Lucrezia their life is to be devoted to God. But they are men and have the needs of men. We do everything a Wife does, but we are not formally married to the men we serve."
It struck me. "I want to be a courtesan like you Vanita." And she howled with laughter.
"No, no you are meant for greater things Lucrezia my daughter," and ruffled my hair with her soapy watered hand.
But Rodrigo's visits became fewer and fewer and eventually when he did come, he did not desire to be with Vanita only for my brothers and I. And Vanita grew more and more unhappy. Her appearance changed too, no longer the youthful happy beautiful woman I knew, but a miserable one, and one who hardly took time to groom herself anymore.
"Vanita, why does Rodrigo not come so much anymore?" I was nine now.
Sitting at the table with a glass of red wine in her hand, she said bitterly; "Oh he's probably found a new little thing to spew himself into." I didn't know what these words meant, but I assumed that Papa had fallen in love with a new woman.
"But you're his courtesan?"
She laughed, drunk. "Oh Lucrezia you will find that men only care for two things in this world, money and copulation. I thought your father was different, but now I realize he's the King of them all!" And she threw the glass across the room where it shattered against the wall. She dropped her face into her arm and began to weep profusely. I left slowely
On the rare occasions Rodrigo did come to visit, Vanita would hide herself away in her room with her husband, relieved that his Wife was now all his. Or she would glare at him while he talked with his children.
Vanita took no interest in me any longer. I no longer had a mother, so would go to the ****** in her house for comfort, they would sit, comb my hair, grooming beyond belief. They said things like; "Oh Lucrezia you'll be as beautiful as Simonetta Vespucchi. It pleased me very much.
Simonetta Vespucci had died four years before my birth. But they say that all of Italy wept for her. They said she had the heart of every man in Florence itself. I wanted to be her.
There came an artist to live with us once. He was an unhappy drunken man. But it seemed in youth he was very handsome. His face was perfectly broad with a triangular chin and he had curls of dark brown hair. The perfect image of masculine attractiveness. tanned skin, like the desert.
His name was Sandro Botichelli and would later in life paint me. He took a sip of wine.
"What are you making Signor?" I asked. It was a very large painting. I had remembered that five men carried the huge canvas into his room. Up the stairs.
He gave a grunt of sad laughter. "I am painting the Birth of Venus." And he took a drink of his wine.
He had the face, that is one thing I loved of Botichelli, he could not paint body's to save his life, but his faces were the most human like of any artist of the time especially the women, he would do the same for me in ten years.
I looked at her. Her face. I had always been enamored of Simonetta Vespucchi but how could Signor Botichelli remember her face after fourteen years of her death?
It seemed even the artist loved her.
"Is it true that every man was in love with her?" It was true Simonetta Vespucci was a sort of idol to all the women of Italy for many years to come.
"Oh yes," he spoke. "But she loved only one man." It was clear to me that Simonetta and Sandro had shared something very, very deep. I often listened to his story's of her. She died when she was only twenty two and all of Florence followed her coffin.
Vanita brushed my hair.
"Vanita," I said. "What is love?"
She peered down. "Love is when a man looks at you as if you are the only thing in the world, fascinated by what he sees as his and only his."
"Like Simonetta?" I asked. "But every man loved her."
"Yes Lucrezia, there was something of Simonetta any noble woman of Italy can attest to that. But see, Lucrezia, love is rare, love is magical, but love can also turn bitter very easily." She put my hair up a braided feening.
"But when you are young Lucrezia, love seems like the only thing you will ever want or ever need, but you must not lose yourself in it. Indeed, love can change and though women are often not permitted it, a woman can fall in love easily, but, Lucrezia often too your first love, especially women, is merely an experimentation, an easing into what will await you when you are grown."
I trusted in Vanita's words. At the time of course I had no love interest, but those words would follow me a lifetime. My first husband it was like that. We loved as childhood carefree courters, but my second husband was my truest love. Several years later my eyes would pop open to realize I was born the same month Simonetta had died; April.

posted September 01, 2017 05:16 PM            

and perfect advice on daughters, I have 3
two are adult women and the youngest is coming of age soon. We do all of the above -hair, nails, and just savor one on one time to talk. I see specks of me in each of them...and a proudness imbues which is tender, feels I did something right in my life.

posted September 01, 2017 08:50 PM            

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