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Il Valentino would like you to know that he is pleased the Ferrarese haven't forgotten his sister and are honouring her memory, at least, when his own has all but fallen prey to damnatio memoriae; His Excellency would have liked to pay his respects at her grave but Corpus Domini convent was closed due to restoration work (what are they getting off on, "restoration"? Why don't they look to God? He'll keep a roof over their heads, won't he? Well. As long as they place fresh flowers on her tomb.) but at least His Excellency could visit Casa Romei where Lucrezia spent much of her time in Ferrara. Since the Castle was such a moldy dump back then.
His Excellency does not blame Lucrezia for her initial revulsion and discomfort at the prospect of moving into Castello Estense, seeing what a malarial shithole it would have been in summer, any summer, what with no baths nor toilets. And Isabella d'Este can well go fuck herself if she believed Lucrezia's immediate lobbying for a decent bit of bathroom to be the whinging of some spoiled Roman tart.
So, finding Lucrezia still revered and well-loved... made His Excellency content. As did happening to stop by just in time for the annual Palio, as well as seeing the dungeon in which Don Giulio was kept for most of life (although we believe he was in the right, seeing as he was the injured party, the first to suffer grave harm at the hands of Cardinal Ippolito and never having received compensation nor restitution for the loss of his good looks and the use of his eyes). Also, given half a chance, His Excellency would have liked to pay a visit to his daughter's convent, although he is not very happy about her becoming abbess of San Bernardino. When he asked Lucrezia to take care of the girl, he didn't mean buy her a convent and make her abbess, but who knows, Carmilla seems to have been content. Sadly, San Bernardino was demolished in the 1870s, so His Excellency can't wander the cloister, converse with her ghost, ask her about her brother Girolamo (who seems to have been a proper rake).
As for Bologna, His Excellency would like to state that he's never seem so many leaning buildings in one place. Tomorrow his scribe will trot off to Pesaro then. But she's already vowed she won't be leaving before she hasn't seen the Anatomy Theatre. (His Excellency also would like to mention that she dragged him to a very strange first evening of Saint Saens' "Samson et Delilah" in the Teatro Comunale and was so stingy that he had to sit in the nosebleed section. He is a bit bemused that his scribe is gladdened by the city's obviously political affiliations which are so obviously Left it hurts. The Mondadori bookstore the scribe dubbed "very sexy", only because it's got a swanky cafe and is half built into a dank mediaeval tower.)
His Excellency will try to get the scribe to report in, now and then.
--- geez, cut it, will you? - the scribe, having way too much fun already! :D
His Excellency does not blame Lucrezia for her initial revulsion and discomfort at the prospect of moving into Castello Estense, seeing what a malarial shithole it would have been in summer, any summer, what with no baths nor toilets. And Isabella d'Este can well go fuck herself if she believed Lucrezia's immediate lobbying for a decent bit of bathroom to be the whinging of some spoiled Roman tart.
So, finding Lucrezia still revered and well-loved... made His Excellency content. As did happening to stop by just in time for the annual Palio, as well as seeing the dungeon in which Don Giulio was kept for most of life (although we believe he was in the right, seeing as he was the injured party, the first to suffer grave harm at the hands of Cardinal Ippolito and never having received compensation nor restitution for the loss of his good looks and the use of his eyes). Also, given half a chance, His Excellency would have liked to pay a visit to his daughter's convent, although he is not very happy about her becoming abbess of San Bernardino. When he asked Lucrezia to take care of the girl, he didn't mean buy her a convent and make her abbess, but who knows, Carmilla seems to have been content. Sadly, San Bernardino was demolished in the 1870s, so His Excellency can't wander the cloister, converse with her ghost, ask her about her brother Girolamo (who seems to have been a proper rake).
As for Bologna, His Excellency would like to state that he's never seem so many leaning buildings in one place. Tomorrow his scribe will trot off to Pesaro then. But she's already vowed she won't be leaving before she hasn't seen the Anatomy Theatre. (His Excellency also would like to mention that she dragged him to a very strange first evening of Saint Saens' "Samson et Delilah" in the Teatro Comunale and was so stingy that he had to sit in the nosebleed section. He is a bit bemused that his scribe is gladdened by the city's obviously political affiliations which are so obviously Left it hurts. The Mondadori bookstore the scribe dubbed "very sexy", only because it's got a swanky cafe and is half built into a dank mediaeval tower.)
His Excellency will try to get the scribe to report in, now and then.
--- geez, cut it, will you? - the scribe, having way too much fun already! :D