One thing alone was wanting to assure the success of the vast projects
that the pope and his son were founding upon the friendship of Louis and
an alliance with him—that is,—money. But Alexander was not the man to be
troubled about a paltry worry of that kind; true, the sale of benefices
was by now exhausted, the ordinary and extraordinary taxes had already
been collected for the whole year, and the prospect of inheritance from
cardinals and priests was a poor thing now that the richest of them had
been poisoned; but Alexander had other means at his disposal, which were
none the less efficacious because they were less often used.
The first he employed was to spread a, report that the Turks were
threatening an invasion of Christendom, and that he knew for a positive
fact that before the end of the summer Bajazet would land two
considerable armies, one in Romagna, the other in Calabria; he therefore
published two bulls, one to levy tithes of all ecclesiastical revenues
in Europe of whatever nature they might be, the other to force the Jews
into paying an equivalent sum: both bulls contained the severest
sentences of excommunication against those who refused to submit, or
attempted opposition.
The second plan was the selling of indulgences, a thing which had never
been done before: these indulgences affected the people who had been
prevented by reasons of health or business from coming to Rome for the
Jubilee; the journey by this expedient was rendered unnecessary, and
sins were pardoned for a third of what it would have cost, and just as
completely as if the faithful had fulfilled every condition of the
pilgrimage. For gathering in this tax a veritable army of collectors was
instituted, a certain Ludovico delta Torre at their head. The sum that
Alexander brought into the pontifical treasury is incalculable, and some
idea of it may be gathered from the fact that 799,000 livres in gold was
paid in from the territory of Venice alone.
But as the Turks did as a fact make some sort of demonstration from the
Hungarian side, and the Venetians began to fear that they might be
coming in their direction, they asked for help from the pope, who gave
orders that at twelve o’clock in the day in all his States an Ave Maria
should be said, to pray God to avert the danger which was threatening
the most serene republic. This was the only help the Venetians got from
His Holiness in exchange for the 799,000 livres in gold that he had got
from them.
But it seemed as though God wished to show His strange vicar on earth
that He was angered by the mockery of sacred things, and on the Eve of
St. Peter’s Day, just as the pope was passing the Capanile on his way to
the tribune of benedictions, a enormous piece of iron broke off and fell
at his feet; and then, as though one warning had not been enough, on the
next day, St. Peter’s, when the pope happened to be in one of the rooms
of his ordinary dwelling with Cardinal Capuano and Monsignare Poto, his
private chamberlain, he saw through the open windows that a very black
cloud was coming up. Foreseeing a thunderstorm, he ordered the cardinal
and the chamberlain to shut the windows. He had not been mistaken; for
even as they were obeying his command, there came up such a furious gust
of wind that the highest chimney of the Vatican was overturned, just as
a tree is rooted up, and was dashed upon the roof, breaking it in;
smashing the upper flooring, it fell into the very room where they were.
Terrified by the noise of this catastrophe, which made the whole palace
tremble, the cardinal and Monsignore Poto turned round, and seeing the
room full of dust and debris, sprang out upon the parapet and shouted to
the guards at the gate, "The pope is dead, the pope is dead!" At this
cry, the guards ran up and discovered three persons lying in the rubbish
on the floor, one dead and the other two dying. The dead man was a
gentleman of Siena ailed Lorenzo Chigi, and the dying were two resident
officials of the Vatican. They had been walking across the floor above,
and had been flung down with the debris. But Alexander was not to be
found; and as he gave no answer, though they kept on calling to him, the
belief that he had perished was confirmed, and very soon spread about
the town. But he had only fainted, and at the end of a certain time he
began to come to himself, and moaned, whereupon he was discovered, dazed
with the blow, and injured, though not seriously, in several parts of
his body. He had been saved by little short of a miracle: a beam had
broken in half and had left each of its two ends in the side walls; and
one of these had formed a sort of roof aver the pontifical throne; the
pope, who was sitting there at the time, was protected by this
overarching beam, and had received only a few contusions.
The two contradictory reports of the sudden death and the miraculous
preservation of the pope spread rapidly through Rome; and the Duke of
Valentinois, terrified at the thought of what a change might be wrought
in his own fortunes by any slight accident to the Holy Father, hurried
to the Vatican, unable to assure himself by anything less than the
evidence of his own eyes. Alexander desired to render public thanks to
Heaven for the protection that had been granted him; and on the very
same day was carried to the church of Santa Maria del Popalo, escorted
by a numerous procession of prelates and men-at arms, his pontifical
seat borne by two valets, two equerries, and two grooms. In this church
were buried the Duke of Gandia and Gian Borgia, and perhaps Alexander
was drawn thither by some relics of devotion, or may be by the
recollection of his love for his former mistress, Rosa Vanazza, whose
image, in the guise of the Madonna, was exposed for the veneration of
the faithful in a chapel on the left of the high altar. Stopping before
this altar, the pope offered to the church the gift of a magnificent
chalice in which were three hundred gold crowns, which the Cardinal of
Siena poured out into a silver paten before the eyes of all, much to the
gratification of the pontifical vanity.
But before he left Rome to complete the conquest of the Romagna, the
Duke of Valentinois had been reflecting that the marriage, once so
ardently desired, between Lucrezia and Alfonso had been quite useless to
himself and his father. There was more than this to be considered: Louis
XII’s rest in Lombardy was only a halt, and Milan was evidently but the
stage before Naples. It was very possible that Louis was annoyed about
the marriage which converted his enemy’s nephew into the son-in-law of
his ally. Whereas, if Alfonso were dead, Lucrezia would be the position
to marry some powerful lord of Ferrara or Brescia, who would be able to
help his brother-in-law in the conquest of Romagna. Alfonso was now not
only useless but dangerous, which to anyone with the character of the
Borgias perhaps seemed worse, the death of Alfonso was resolved upon.
But Lucrezia’s husband, who had understoond for a long time past what
danger he incurred by living near his terrible father-in-law, had
retired to Naples. Since, however, neither Alexander nor Caesar had
changed in their perpetual dissimulation towards him, he was beginning
to lose his fear, when he received an invitation from the pope and his
son to take part in a bull-fight which was to be held in the Spanish
fashion in honour of the duke before his departure: In the present
precarious position of Naples it would not have been good policy for
Alfonso to afford Alexander any sort of pretext for a rupture, so he
could not refuse without a motive, and betook himself to Rome. It was
thought of no use to consult Lucrezia in this affair, for she had two or
three times displayed an absurd attachment for her husband, and they
left her undisturbed in her government of Spoleto.
Alfonso was received by the pope and the duke with every demonstration
of sincere friendship, and rooms in the Vatican were assigned to him
that he had inhabited before with Lucrezia, in that part of the building
which is known as the Torre Nuova.
Great lists were prepared on the Piazza of St. Peter’s; the streets
about it were barricaded, and the windows of the surrounding houses
served as boxes for the spectators. The pope and his court took their
places on the balconies of the Vatican.
The fete was started by professional toreadors: after they had exhibited
their strength and skill, Alfonso and Caesar in their turn descended to
the arena, and to offer a proof of their mutual kindness, settled that
the bull which pursued Caesar should be killed by Alfonso, and the bull
that pursued Alfonso by Caesar.
Then Caesar remained alone an horseback within the lists, Alfonso going
out by an improvised door which was kept ajar, in order that he might go
back on the instant if he judged that his presence was necessary. At the
same time, from the opposite side of the lists the bull was introduced,
and was at the same moment pierced all over with darts and arrows, some
of them containing explosives, which took fire, and irritated the bull
to such a point that he rolled about with pain, and then got up in a
fury, and perceiving a man on horseback, rushed instantly upon him. It
was now, in this narrow arena, pursued by his swift enemy, that Caesar
displayed all that skill which made him one of the finest horsemen of
the period. Still, clever as he was, he could not have remained safe
long in that restricted area from an adversary against whom he had no
other resource than flight, had not Alfonso appeared suddenly, just when
the bull was beginning to gain upon him, waving a red cloak in his left
hand, and holding in his right a long delicate Aragon sword. It was high
time: the bull was only a few paces distant from Caesar, and the risk he
was running appeared so imminent that a woman’s scream was heard from
one of the windows. But at the sight of a man on foot the bull stopped
short, and judging that he would do better business with the new enemy
than the old one, he turned upon him instead. For a moment he stood
motionless, roaring, kicking up the dust with his hind feet, and lashing
his sides with his tail. Then he rushed upon Alfonso, his eyes all
bloodshot, his horns tearing up the ground. Alfonso awaited him with a
tranquil air; then, when he was only three paces away, he made a bound
to one sides and presented instead of his body his sword, which
disappeared at once to the hilt; the bull, checked in the middle of his
onslaught, stopped one instant motionless and trembling, then fell upon
his knees, uttered one dull roar, and lying down on the very spot where
his course had been checked, breathed his last without moving a single
step forward.
Applause resounded an all sides, so rapid and clever had been the blow.
Caesar had remained on horseback, seeking to discover the fair spectator
who had given so lively a proof of her interest in him, without
troubling himself about what was going on: his search had not been
unrewarded, for he had recognized one of the maids of honour to
Elizabeth, Duchess of Urbino, who was betrothed to Gian Battista
Carraciualo, captain-general of the republic of Venice.
It was now Alfonso’s turn to run from the bull, Caesar’s to fight him:
the young men changed parts, and when four mules had reluctantly dragged
the dead bull from the arena, and the valets and other servants of His
Holiness had scattered sand over the places that were stained with
blood, Alfonso mounted a magnificent Andalusian steed of Arab origin,
light as the wind of Sahara that had wedded with his mother, while
Caesar, dismounting, retired in his turn, to reappear at the moment when
Alfonso should be meeting the same danger from which he had just now
rescued him.
Then a second bull was introduced upon the scene, excited in the same
manner with steeled darts and flaming arrows. Like his predecessor, when
he perceived a man on horseback he rushed upon him, and then began a
marvellous race, in which it was impossible to see, so quickly did they
fly over the ground, whether the horse was pursuing the bull or the bull
the horse. But after five or six rounds, the bull began to gain upon the
son of Araby, for all his speed, and it was plain to see who fled and
who pursued; in another moment there was only the length of two lances
between them, and then suddenly Caesar appeared, armed with one of those
long two handed swords which the French are accustomed to use, and just
when the bull, almost close upon Don Alfonso, came in front of Caesar he
brandished the sword, which flashed like lightning, and cut off his
head, while his body, impelled by the speed of the run, fell to the
ground ten paces farther on. This blow was so unexpected, and had been
performed with such dexterity, that it was received not with mere
clapping but with wild enthusiasm and frantic outcry. Caesar, apparently
remembering nothing else in his hour of triumph but the scream that had
been caused by his former danger, picked up the bull’s head, and, giving
it to one of his equerries, ordered him to lay it as an act of homage at
the feet of the fair Venetian who had bestowed upon him so lively a sign
of interest. This fete, besides affording a triumph to each of the young
men, had another end as well; it was meant to prove to the populace that
perfect goodwill existed between the two, since each had saved the life
of the other. The result was that, if any accident should happen to
Caesar, nobody would dream of accusing Alfanso; and also if any accident
should happen to Alfonso, nobody would dream, of accusing Caesar.
There was a supper at the Vatican. Alfonso made an elegant toilet, and
about ten o’clock at night prepared to go from the quarters he inhabited
into those where the pope lived; but the door which separated the two
courts of the building was shut, and knock as he would, no one came to
open it. Alfonso then thought that it was a simple matter for him to go
round by the Piazza of St. Peter’s; so he went out unaccompanied through
one of the garden gates of the Vatican and made his way across the
gloomy streets which led to the stairway which gave on the piazza. But
scarcely had he set his foot on the first step when he was attacked by a
band of armed men. Alfonso would have drawn his sword; but before it was
out of the scabbard he had received two blows from a halberd, one on his
head, the other on his shoulder; he was stabbed in the side, and wounded
both in the leg and in the temple. Struck down by these five blows, he
lost his footing and fell to the ground unconscious; his assassins,
supposing he was dead, at once remounted the stairway, and found on the
piazza forty horsemen waiting for them: by them they were calmly
escorted from the city by the Porta Portesa. Alfonso was found at the
point of death, but not actually dead, by some passers-by, some of whom
recognised him, and instantly conveyed the news of his assassination to
the Vatican, while the others, lifting the wounded man in their arms,
carried him to his quarters in the Torre Nuova. The pope and Caesar, who
learned this news just as they were sitting down to table, showed great
distress, and leaving their companions, at once went to see Alfonso, to
be quite certain whether his wounds were fatal or not; and an the next
morning, to divert any suspicion that might be turned towards
themselves, they arrested Alfonso’s maternal uncle, Francesco Gazella,
who had come to Rome in his nephew’s company. Gazella was found guilty
on the evidence of false witnesses, and was consequently beheaded.
But they had only accomplished half of what they wanted. By some means,
fair or foul, suspicion had been sufficiently diverted from the true
assassins; but Alfonso was not dead, and, thanks to the strength of his
constitution and the skill of his doctors, who had taken the
lamentations of the pope and Caesar quite seriously, and thought to
please them by curing Alexander’s son-in-law, the wounded man was making
progress towards convalescence: news arrived at the same time that
Lucrezia had heard of her husband’s accident, and was starting to come
and nurse him herself. There was no time to lose, and Caesar summoned
Michelotto.
"The same night," says Burcardus, "Don Alfonso, who would not die of his
wounds, was found strangled in his bed."
The funeral took place the next day with a ceremony not unbecoming in
itself, though, unsuited to his high rank. Don Francesco Borgia,
Archbishop of Cosenza, acted as chief mourner at St. Peter’s, where the
body was buried in the chapel of Santa Maria delle Febbre.
Lucrezia arrived the same evening: she knew her father and brother too
well to be put on the wrong scent; and although, immediately after
Alfonso’s death, the Duke of Valentinois had arrested the doctors, the
surgeons, and a poor deformed wretch who had been acting as valet, she
knew perfectly well from what quarter the blow had proceeded. In fear,
therefore, that the manifestation of a grief she felt this time too well
might alienate the confidence of her father and brother, she retired to
Nepi with her whole household, her whole court, and more than six
hundred cavaliers, there to spend the period of her mourning.
This important family business was now settled, and Lucrezia was again a
widow, and in consequence ready to be utilized in the pope’s new
political machinations. Caesar only stayed at Rome to receive the
ambassadors from France and Venice; but as their arrival was somewhat
delayed, and considerable inroads had been made upon the pope’s
treasury by the recent festivities, the creation of twelve new cardinals
was arranged: this scheme was to have two effects, viz., to bring
600,000 ducats into the pontifical chest, each hat having been priced at
50,000 ducats, and to assure the pope of a constant majority in the
sacred council.
The ambassadors at last arrived: the first was M. de Villeneuve, the
same who had come before to see the Duke of Valentinois in the name of
France. Just as he entered Rome, he met on the road a masked man, who,
without removing his domino, expressed the joy he felt at his arrival.
This man was Caesar himself, who did not wish to be recognised, and who
took his departure after a short conference without uncovering his face.
M. de Villeneuve then entered the city after him, and at the Porta del
Populo found the ambassadors of the various Powers, and among them those
of Spain and Naples, whose sovereigns were not yet, it is true, in
declared hostility to France, though there was already some coolness.
The last-named, fearing to compromise themselves, merely said to their
colleague of France, by way of complimentary address, "Sir, you are
welcome"; whereupon the master of the ceremonies, surprised at the
brevity of the greeting, asked if they had nothing else to say. When
they replied that they had not, M. de Villeneuve turned his back upon
them, remarking that those who had nothing to say required no answer; he
then took his place between the Archbishop of Reggia, governor of Rome,
and the Archbishop of Ragusa, and made his way to the palace of the Holy
Apostles, which had been, got ready far his reception.
Same days later, Maria Giorgi, ambassador extraordinary of Venice, made
his arrival. He was commissioned not only to arrange the business on
hand with the pope, but also to convey to Alexander and Caesar the title
of Venetian nobles, and to inform them that their names were inscribed
in the Golden Book—a favour that both of them had long coveted, less for
the empty honour’s sake than for the new influence that this title might
confer. Then the pope went on to bestow the twelve cardinals’ hats that
had been sold. The new princes of the Church were Don Diego de Mendoza,
archbishop of Seville; Jacques, archbishop of Oristagny, the Pope’s
vicar-general; Thomas, archbishop of Strigania; Piero, archbishop of
Reggio, governor of Rome; Francesco Borgia, archbishop of Cosenza,
treasurer-general; Gian, archbishop of Salerno, vice-chamberlain; Luigi
Borgia, archbishop of Valencia, secretary to His Holiness, and brother
of the Gian Borgia whom Caesar had poisoned; Antonio, bishop of Coma;
Gian Battista Ferraro, bishop of Modem; Amedee d’Albret, son of the King
of Navarre, brother-in-law of the Duke of Valentinois; and Marco
Cornaro, a Venetian noble, in whose person His Holiness rendered back to
the most serene republic the favour he had just received.
Then, as there was nothing further to detain the Duke of Valentinois at
Rome, he only waited to effect a loan from a rich banker named Agostino
Chigi, brother of the Lorenzo Chigi who had perished on the day when the
pope had been nearly killed by the fall of a chimney, and departed for
the Romagna, accompanied by Vitellozzo Vitelli, Gian Paolo Baglione, and
Jacopo di Santa Croce, at that time his friends, but later on his
victims.
His first enterprise was against Pesaro: this was the polite attention
of a brother-in-law, and Gian Sforza very well knew what would be its
consequences; for instead of attempting to defend his possessions by
taking up arms, or to venture on negotiations, unwilling moreover to
expose the fair lands he had ruled so long to the vengeance of an
irritated foe, he begged his subjects, to preserve their former
affection towards himself, in the hope of better days to come; and he
fled into Dalmatia. Malatesta, lord of Rimini, followed his example;
thus the Duke of Valentinois entered both these towns without striking a
single blow. Caesar left a sufficient garrison behind him, and marched
on to Faenza.
But there the face of things was changed: Faenza at that time was under
the rule of Astor Manfredi, a brave and handsome young man of eighteen,
who, relying on the love of his subjects towards his family, had
resolved on defending himself to the uttermost, although he had been
forsaken by the Bentivagli, his near relatives, and by his allies, the
Venetian and Florentines, who had not dared to send him any aid because
of the affection felt towards Caesar by the King of France. Accordingly,
when he perceived that the Duke of Valentinois was marching against him,
he assembled in hot haste all those of his vassals who were capable of
bearing arms, together with the few foreign soldiers who were willing to
come into his pay, and collecting victual and ammunition, he took up his
position with them inside the town.
By these defensive preparations Caesar was not greatly, disconcerted; he
commanded a magnificent army, composed of the finest troops of France
and Italy; led by such men as Paolo and Giulio Orsini, Vitellozzo
Vitelli and Paolo Baglione, not to speak of himself—that is to say, by
the first captains of the period. So, after he had reconnoitred, he at
once began the siege, pitching his camp between the two rivers, Amana
and Marziano, placing his artillery on the side which faces on Forli, at
which point the besieged party had erected a powerful bastion.
At the end of a few days busy with entrenchments, the breach became
practicable, and the Duke of Valentinois ordered an assault, and gave
the example to his soldiers by being the first to march against the
enemy. But in spite of his courage and that of his captains beside him,
Astor Manfredi made so good a defence that the besiegers were repulsed
with great loss of men, while one of their bravest leaders, Honario
Savella; was left behind in the trenches.
But Faenza, in spite of the courage and devotion of her defenders, could
not have held out long against so formidable an army, had not winter
come to her aid. Surprised by the rigour of the season, with no houses
for protection and no trees for fuel, as the peasants had destroyed both
beforehand, the Duke of Valentinois was forced to raise the siege and
take up his winter quarters in the neighbouring towns, in order to be
quite ready for a return next spring; for Caesar could not forgive the
insult of being held in check by a little town which had enjoyed a long
time of peace, was governed by a mere boy, and deprived of all outside
aid, and had sworn to take his revenge. He therefore broke up his army
into three sections, sent one-third to Imola, the second to Forli, and
himself took the third to Cesena, a third-rate town, which was thus
suddenly transformed into a city of pleasure and luxury.
Indeed, for Caesar’s active spirit there must needs be no cessation of
warfare or festivities. So, when war was interrupted, fetes began, as
magnificent and as exciting as he knew how to make them: the days were
passed in games and displays of horsemanship, the nights in dancing and
gallantry; for the loveliest women of the Romagna—and that is to say of
the whole world had come hither to make a seraglio for the victor which
might have been envied by the Sultan of Egypt or the Emperor of
Constantinople.
While the Duke of Valentinois was making one of his excursions in the
neighbourhood of the town with his retinue of flattering nobles and
titled courtesans, who were always about him, he noticed a cortege on
the Rimini road so numerous that it must surely indicate the approach of
someone of importance. Caesar, soon perceiving that the principal person
was a woman, approached, and recognised the very same lady-in-waiting to
the Duchess of Urbino who, on the day of the bull-fight, had screamed
when Caesar was all but touched by the infuriated beast. At this time
she was betrothed, as we mentioned, to Gian Carracciuola, general of the
Venetians. Elizabeth of Gonzaga, her protectress and godmother, was now
sending her with a suitable retinue to Venice, where the marriage was to
take place.
Caesar had already been struck by the beauty of this young girl, when at
Rome; but when he saw her again she appeared more lovely than on the
first occasion, so he resolved on the instant that he would keep this
fair flower of love for himself: having often before reproached himself
for his indifference in passing her by. Therefore he saluted her as an
old acquaintance, inquired whether she were staying any time at Cesena,
and ascertained that she was only passing through, travelling by long
stages, as she was awaited with much impatience, and that she would
spend the coming night at Forli. This was all that Caesar cared to knew;
he summoned Michelotto, and in a low voice said a few words to him,
which were heard by no one else.
The cortege only made a halt at the neighbouring town, as the fair bride
had said, and started at once for Forli, although the day was already
far advanced; but scarcely had a league been revered when a troop of
horsemen from Cesena overtook and surrounded them. Although the soldiers
in the escort were far from being in sufficient force, they were eager
to defend their general’s bride; but soon some fell dead, and others,
terrified, took to flight; and when the lady came down from her litter
to try to escape, the chief seized her in his arms and set her in front
of him on his horse; then, ordering his men to return to Cesena without
him, he put his horse to the gallop in a cross direction, and as the
shades of evening were now beginning to fall, he soon disappeared into
the darkness.
Carracciuolo learned the news through one of the fugitives, who declared
that he had recognised among the ravishers the Duke of Valentinois’
soldiers. At first he thought his ears had deceived him, so hard was it
to believe this terrible intelligence; but it was repeated, and he stood
for one instant motionless, and, as it were, thunderstruck; then
suddenly, with a cry of vengeance, he threw off his stupor and dashed
away to the ducal palace, where sat the Doge Barberigo and the Council
of Ten; unannounced, he rushed into their midst, the very moment after
they had heard of Caesar’s outrage.
"Most serene lords," he cried, "I am come to bid you farewell, for I am
resolved to sacrifice my life to my private vengeance, though indeed I
had hoped to devote it to the service of the republic. I have been
wounded in the soul’s noblest part—in my honour. The dearest thing I
possessed, my wife, has been stolen from me, and the thief is the most
treacherous, the most impious, the most infamous of men, it is
Valentinois! My lords, I beg you will not be offended if I speak thus of
a man whose boast it is to be a member of your noble ranks and to enjoy
your protection: it is not so; he lies, and his loose and criminal life
has made him unworthy of such honours, even as he is unworthy of the
life whereof my sword shall deprive him. In truth, his very birth was a
sacrilege; he is a fratricide, an usurper of the goods of other men, an
oppressor of the innocent, and a highway assassin; he is a man who will
violate every law, even, the law of hospitality respected by the veriest
barbarian, a man who will do violence to a virgin who is passing through
his own country, where she had every right to expect from him not only
the consideration due to her sex and condition, but also that which is
due to the most serene republic, whose condottiere I am, and which is
insulted in my person and in the dishonouring of my bride; this man, I
say, merits indeed to die by another hand than mine. Yet, since he who
ought to punish him is not for him a prince and judge, but only a father
quite as guilty as the son, I myself will seek him out, and I will
sacrifice my own life, not only in avenging my own injury and the blood
of so many innocent beings, but also in promoting the welfare of the
most serene republic, on which it is his ambition to trample when he has
accomplished the ruin of the other princes of Italy."
The doge and the senators, who, as we said, were already apprised of the
event that had brought Carracciuolo before them, listened with great
interest and profound indignation; for they, as he told them, were
themselves insulted in the person of their general: they all swore, on
their honour, that if he would put the matter in their hands, and not
yield to his rage, which could only work his own undoing, either his
bride should be rendered up to him without a smirch upon her bridal
veil, or else a punishment should be dealt out proportioned to the
affront. And without delay, as a proof of the energy wherewith the noble
tribunal would take action in the affair, Luigi Manenti, secretary to
the Ten, was sent to Imola, where the duke was reported to be, that he
might explain to him the great displeasure with which the most serene
republic viewed the outrage perpetrated upon their candottiere. At the
same time the Council of Ten and the doge sought out the French
ambassador, entreating him to join with them and repair in person with
Manenti to the Duke of Valentinois, and summon him, in the name of King
Louis XII, immediately to send back to Venice the lady he had carried
off.
The two messengers arrived at Imola, where they found Caesar, who
listened to their complaint with every mark of utter astonishment,
denying that he had been in any way connected with the crime, nay,
authorising Manenti and the French ambassador to pursue the culprits and
promising that he would himself have the most active search carried on.
The duke appeared to act in such complete good faith that the envoys
were for the moment hoodwinked, and themselves undertook a search of the
most careful nature. They accordingly repaired to the exact spot and
began to procure information. On the highroad there had been found dead
and wounded. A man had been seen going by at a gallop, carrying a woman
in distress on his saddle; he had soon left the beaten track and plunged
across country. A peasant coming home from working in the fields had
seen him appear and vanish again like a shadow, taking the direction of
a lonely house. An old woman declared that she had seen him go into this
house. But the next night the house was gone, as though by enchantment,
and the ploughshare had passed over where it stood; so that none could
say, what had become of her whom they sought, for those who had dwelt in
the house, and even the house itself, were there no longer.
Manenti and the French ambassador returned to Venice, and related what
the duke had said, what they had done, and how all search had been in
vain. No one doubted that Caesar was the culprit, but no one could prove
it. So the most serene republic, which could not, considering their war
with the Turks, be embroiled with the pope, forbade Caracciuala to take
any sort of private vengeance, and so the talk grew gradually less, and
at last the occurrence was no more mentioned.
But the pleasures of the winter had not diverted Caesar’s mind from his
plans about Faenza. Scarcely did the spring season allow him to go into
the country than he marched anew upon the town, camped opposite the
castle, and making a new breach, ordered a general assault, himself
going up first of all; but in spite of the courage he personally
displayed, and the able seconding of his soldiers, they were repulsed by
Astor, who, at the head of his men, defended the breach, while even the
women, at the top of the rampart, rolled down stones and trunks of trees
upon the besiegers. After an hour’s struggle man to man, Caesar was
forced to retire, leaving two thousand men in the trenches about the
town, and among the two thousand one of his bravest condottieri,
Valentino Farnese.
Then, seeing that neither excommunications nor assaults could help him,
Caesar converted the siege into a blockade: all the roads leading to
Faenza were cut off, all communications stopped; and further, as various
signs of revolt had been remarked at Cesena, a governor was installed
there whose powerful will was well known to Caesar, Ramiro d’Orco, with
powers of life and death over the inhabitants; he then waited quietly
before Faenza, till hunger should drive out the citizens from those
walls they defended with such vehement enthusiasm. At the end of a
month, during which the people of Faenza had suffered all the horrors of
famine, delegates came out to parley with Caesar with a view to
capitulation. Caesar, who still had plenty to do in the Romagna, was
less hard to satisfy than might have been expected, and the town yielded
on condition that he should not touch either the persons or the
belongings of the inhabitants, that Astor Manfredi, the youthful ruler,
should have the privilege of retiring whenever he pleased, and should
enjoy the revenue of his patrimony wherever he might be.
The conditions were faithfully kept so far as the inhabitants were
concerned; but Caesar, when he had seen Astor, whom he did not know
before, was seized by a strange passion for this beautiful youth, who
was like a woman: he kept him by his side in his own army, showing him
honours befitting a young prince, and evincing before the eyes of all
the strongest affection for him: one day Astor disappeared, just as
Caracciuolo’s bride had disappeared, and no one knew what had become of
him; Caesar himself appeared very uneasy, saying that he had no doubt
made his escape somewhere, and in order to give credence to this story,
he sent out couriers to seek him in all directions.
A year after this double disappearance, there was picked up in the
Tiber, a little below the Castle Sant’ Angelo, the body of a beautiful
young woman, her hands bound together behind her back, and also the
corpse of a handsome youth with the bowstring he had been strangled with
tied round his neck. The girl was Caracciuolo’s bride, the young man was
Astor.
During the last year both had been the slaves of Caesar’s pleasures;
now, tired of them, he had had them thrown into the Tiber.
The capture of Faenza had brought Caesar the title of Duke of Romagna,
which was first bestowed on him by the pope in full consistory, and
afterwards ratified by the King of Hungary, the republic of Venice, and
the Kings of Castile and Portugal. The news of the ratification arrived
at Rome on the eve of the day on which the people are accustomed to keep
the anniversary of the foundation of the Eternal City; this fete, which
went back to the days of Pomponius Laetus, acquired a new splendour in
their eyes from the joyful events that had just happened to their
sovereign: as a sign of joy cannon were fired all day long; in the
evening there were illuminations and bonfires, and during part of the
night the Prince of Squillace, with the chief lords of the Roman
nobility, marched about the streets, bearing torches, and exclaiming,
"Long live Alexander! Long live Caesar! Long live the Borgias! Long live
the Orsini! Long live the Duke of Romagna!"