I HAD crawled more than five hundred paces from the place where I fell,
to the gate by which I entered. No sooner had I got inside than some
mastiff dogs set upon me and bit me badly. When they returned to the
attack and worried me, I drew my poniard and wounded one of them so
sharply that he howled aloud, and all the dogs, according to their
nature, ran after him. I meanwhile made the best way I could on all
fours toward the church of the Trespontina.
On arriving at the opening of the street which leads to Sant’ Agnolo, I
turned off in the direction of San Piero; and now the dawn had risen
over me, and I felt myself in danger. When therefore I chanced to meet a
water-carrier driving his donkey laden with full buckets, I called the
fellow, and begged him to carry me upon his back to the terrace by the
steps of San Piero, adding: “I am an unfortunate young man, who, while
escaping from a window in a love-adventure, have fallen and broken my
leg. The place from which I made my exit is one of great importance; and
if I am discovered, I run risk of being cut to pieces; so for heaven’s
sake lift me quickly, and I will give you a crown of gold.” Saying this,
I clapped my hand to my purse, where I had a good quantity. He took me
up at once, hitched me on his back, and carried me to the raised terrace
by the steps to San Piero. There I bade him leave me, saying he must run
back to his donkey.
I resumed my march, crawling always on all fours, and making for the
palace of the Duchess, wife of Duke Ottavio and daughter of the Emperor.
[1] She was his natural child, and had been married to Duke Alessandro.
I chose her house for refuge, because I was quite certain that many of
my friends, who had come with that great princess from Florence, were
tarrying there; also because she had taken me into favour through
something which the castellan had said in my behalf. Wishing to be of
service to me, he told the Pope that I had saved the city more than a
thousand crowns of damage, caused by heavy rain on the occasion when the
Duchess made her entrance into Rome. He related how he was in despair,
and how I put heart into him, and went on to describe how I had pointed
several large pieces of artillery in the direction where the clouds were
thickest, and whence a deluge of water was already pouring; then, when I
began to fire, the rain stopped, and at the fourth discharge the sun
shone out; and so I was the sole cause of the festival succeeding, to
the joy of everybody. On hearing this narration the Duchess said: “That
Benvenuto is one of the artists of merit, who enjoyed the goodwill of my
late husband, Duke Alessandro, and I shall always hold them in mind if
an opportunity comes of doing such men service.” She also talked of me
to Duke Ottavio. For these reasons I meant to go straight to the house
of her Excellency, which was a very fine palace situated in Borgio
Vecchio.
I should have been quite safe from recapture by the Pope if I could have
stayed there; but my exploits up to this point had been too marvellous
for a human being, and God was unwilling to encourage my vainglory;
accordingly, for my own good, He chastised me a second time worse even
than the first. The cause of this was that while I was crawling on all
fours up those steps, a servant of Cardinal Cornaro recognized me. His
master was then lodging in the palace; so the servant ran up to his room
and woke him, crying: “Most reverend Monsignor, your friend Benvenuto is
down there; he has escaped from the castle, and is crawling on all
fours, streaming with blood; to all appearances he has broken a leg, and
we don’t know whether he is going.” The Cardinal exclaimed at once: “Run
and carry him upon your back into my room here.” When I arrived, he told
me to be under no apprehension, and sent for the first physicians of
Rome to take my case in hand. Among them was Maestro Jacomo of Perugia,
a most excellent and able surgeon. He set the bone with dexterity, then
bound the limb up, and bled me with his own hand. It happened that my
veins were swollen far beyond their usual size, and he too wished to
make a pretty wide incision; accordingly the blood sprang forth so
copiously, and spurted with such force into his face, that he had to
abandon the operation. He regarded this as a very bad omen, and could
hardly be prevailed upon to undertake my cure. Indeed, he often
expressed a wish to leave me, remembering that he ran no little risk of
punishment for having treated my case, or rather for having proceeded to
the end with it. The Cardinal had me placed in a secret chamber, and
went off immediately to beg me from the Pope.
Note 1. Margaret of Austria, who married Ottavio Farnese in November
1538, after Alessandro’s murder.