Over the next days the Borgias and their guests watched the traditional carnival races; on the 27th the races were run by old men and Jews, and on the 19th it was the turn of the prostitutes and wild boars. The race for wild boars, a hilariously perilous event, took place over a course from the Campo di Fiori to St Peter’s. According to Burchard: ‘They were mounted and those who sat on them used sticks to beat them and kept control of their heads by rings in their snouts, whilst other men guided them along and prevented their running into side alleys.’ On the same day, ‘a great number’ of prostitutes ran from the pyramid in the Borgo to St Peter’s. On the 30th, more serious races were held, with sleek thoroughbreds replacing the panting prostitutes and squealing boars. According to Burchard there were three classifications for the races, the first for Barbary horses imported from Morocco through Naples and much prized for their speed, the second for light Spanish mounts, and the third for corsieri, the heavier cavalry chargers. As usual the racing was dangerous and crooked: Burchard’s account recalls the clash between Cesare and Francesco Gonzaga over a similar race at Siena:
… in these contests there was a great deal of violence and injustice. The Marquis of Mantua’s Barbary horse came first in his race, but was awarded no prize since it was riderless, having earlier thrown its rider. In consequence, the horse running for Don Cesare Borgia won the prize. One of Don Cesare’s riders also won the race for the Spanish horses, but most unfairly. He did not begin the race with the rest in the Campo di Fiori, but ran out by a house adjoining the vice-chancellor’s palace ahead of the other horses as they were approaching, and thereby obtained the prize. In the fillies’ races, a certain groom from Don Cesare’s household again crossed the highway by the bridge of Sant’Angelo, and with his horse obstructed the leading runner and threw its rider on the ground, but the filly nevertheless ran on and touched the palio with its forehead …
Cesare was an expert horseman and prided himself on his stable of 300 horses, many of them bought or wheedled from Gonzaga. No doubt there was a running rivalry between the Borgia and Gonzaga stables whenever races were held, competitions in which Cesare’s team certainly emerges as the most unscrupulous. One wonders if on this occasion Francesco Gonzaga raised objections as he had at Siena in 1493 when Cesare was only an unknown papal ‘nephew’; if he did, history has not recorded it.
The ceremony of the exchange of rings took place in the Vatican on the 28th, preceded by a lengthy and boring sermon by the Bishop of Adria, which Alexander with typical impatience ordered him to cut short. After Ferrante as his brother’s proxy had presented Lucrezia with a simple gold wedding ring, his brother Cardinal Ippolito stepped forward and placed a casket on a table in front of the Pope. Out of it he drew a staggering display of Este family jewels, rings, collars, head ornaments, pearls, rubies and diamonds, to the value of 70,000 ducats. However, it seems that the Estes considered them not as a gift but a loan; the circumstances behind the handing over of the jewels showed Ercole to be still extremely mistrustful of the Borgias and unconvinced by his envoys’ glowing reports of his new daughter-in-law. Two days after the wedding one of the Ferrarese ambassadors, Pozzi, wrote reassuringly to his master: ‘There is a document regarding this marriage which simply states that Donna Lucrezia will be given for a present the bridal ring, but nothing is said of any other gift. Your Excellency’s intention, therefore, was carried out exactly. There was no mention of any present, and Your Excellency need have no anxiety …’
The Estes’ secret distrust for their new relations was outwardly well concealed, and the wedding festivities proceeded with every appearance of cordiality. After the ceremony the party watched the mock siege of a wooden fortress staged by the gentlemen of Cesare’s household in the piazza below, in which, perhaps due to the bravado of his Spaniards, sharp swords were used instead of the customary blunt weapons and five men were wounded. They then moved to the Sala del Papagallo, where the Pope seated himself on his throne with the cardinals on his left and Cesare, Lucrezia and Ippolito on his right. Alexander, reported II Prete, then asked Cesare to lead the dance with Donna Lucrezia, ‘which he did very gracefully. His Holiness was in continual laughter.’
No thought of the murdered Alfonso Bisceglie, whose marriage to Lucrezia had taken place in the same surroundings just over three years before, seemed to trouble the Borgias as they triumphantly celebrated her third wedding. With the emotional resilience characteristic of her family Lucrezia, who had loved him, seemed to have quite forgotten him as she danced radiantly with the brother who had had him killed. Alexander would have dismissed the unfortunate incident from his mind, delighted as he was with the political advantages which this match would imply for Cesare. Cesare, in his haste for the future, never looked at the past; if he considered the case of Bisceglie he would have seen his action as justified by today’s celebrations. The political background to the marriage was clearly emphasized in comedies and representations, including an eclogue given by Cesare in his apartments, in which many classical allusions to Cesare and Ercole were made, predicting that through fortune and valour they would overcome their enemies. The Ferrarese envoys, whose native city was famous for its theatre, criticized the dramatic quality of the representations but were delighted by the political allusions to the alliance between the Borgias and the Estes, which they clearly considered a warning to Venice.
By early January 1502, it was time for Lucrezia to leave for Ferrara. Alexander experienced a certain amount of difficulty in finding a suitable escort for her, a problem not entirely unconnected with his own policies towards the Roman barons. Although he can hardly be blamed for the fact that the Roman ladies were not skilful horsewomen, and thus would not be able to go, he was forced to admit that ‘there were no Roman noblemen, except the Orsinis, and they were generally away from the city …’ However, Cesare saved the situation by detailing 200 gentlemen of his own suite to accompany his sister, and considerately provided musicians and buffoons to entertain her on the way. At least 150 baggage mules would be needed to carry Lucrezia’s splendid trousseau, as described by Cattaneo: ‘silverware to the value of three thousand ducats: jewels, fine linen and trappings for horses and mules together worth another hundred thousand’. Her wardrobe included one trimmed dress worth more than 15,000 ducats, and 200 costly shifts, some worth a hundred ducats apiece. Il Prete, who doubtless obtained his information from Lucrezia’s pretty ladies-in-waiting, wrote to Isabella that she had one dress worth 20,000 ducats and a hat valued at 10,000. Beyond all this Alexander gave his daughter 9,000 ducats as pin-money to clothe herself and her servants, and a beautiful French sedan chair in which she was to travel with the Duchess of Urbino on the journey from Urbino to Ferrara. Alexander’s resources were becoming strained under the enormous burden of expense. He therefore ordered that each cardinal should provide two horses or mules for the cavalcade, and twenty of the bishops one horse or mule each. ‘None of the animals borrowed in this way was restored to its owner,’ Burchard commented. A Venetian observer who drew up a careful account of the men and animals involved in Lucrezia’s company, with Cesare’s escort, produced a total of 660 horses and mules and 753 people, including cooks, saddlers, butlers, tailors and her personal goldsmith.
On 6 January, Lucrezia took private leave of her father, whom she was never to see again, in the Sala del Papagallo. As she left, the anguished Alexander hurried from window to window to catch a last glimpse of his beloved daughter. It was snowing as Lucrezia rode out of Rome, between Cesare and Ippolito; they accompanied her for a few miles and then returned to the city. It must have been a sad parting; Lucrezia as Duchess of Ferrara would have her own new life to lead, and it was unlikely that she would see much of her brother in the years to come. Constantly together since they were children, they had grown up very much alike. Lucrezia’s intelligence impressed close observers like II Prete, but, dazzled by her golden hair and her famous charm, they failed to divine the Borgia toughness beneath the feminine skin. She shared w
ith her brother the nerves of steel and incapacity for real feeling which had enabled her to survive the experience of the last few years unscathed. Their mutual affection was based on similarity of character and outlook, and strengthened by the sense that the rest of their world regarded them as dangerous outsiders.
But as Lucrezia made her way northward, greeted with carefully organized enthusiasm by her brother’s Romagnol cities, there were moments which his ambitions must have made awkward for her. In her twenty-four hours at Pesaro she tactfully kept to her chamber, under the probably necessary pretext of washing her hair. At Urbino, Guidobaldo and Elisabetta gave a splendid ball for her, but a certain nervous strain underlay their civilities since rumours of Cesare’s designs on their duchy had been circulating during the past months. At Imola she again insisted on breaking her journey to wash her hair and put her clothes in order. Ferrante reported to Ercole that she had not washed it for eight days and was therefore suffering from a headache. No doubt the real reason was that she wished to prepare for her reception by the Bentivoglios at Bologna, where Cesare’s recent threat against the city must still have been fresh in everyone’s minds, and Ginevra, wife of Giovanni, was the aunt of the exiled lord of Pesaro, Lucrezia’s former husband Giovanni Sforza. The real ordeal awaited her at Ferrara, where she arrived on I February, greeted beforehand by the secretly hostile Isabella d’Este Gonzaga, ‘burning with resentment’ as she later wrote to her husband. Isabella’s eyes, so she said, filled with tears on seeing her mother’s ruby necklace round her sister-in-law’s graceful neck. Despite the formal festivities it was, as an observer remarked, ‘a cold wedding’, and Lucrezia’s confidence in the midst of the unfamiliar Ferrarese court cannot have been helped by the French King’s strange choice of a wedding present for her husband: a golden shield on which Mary Magdalene was depicted in enamel was bestowed on Alfonso by the French ambassador with the remark that he had chosen a wife who resembled her in character. It was hardly a tactful gift for the husband of a bride with Lucrezia’s past. Lucrezia was miserable in her first months at Ferrara, involved in quarrels with Ercole over her allowance, embarrassed by her family’s political and military activities, but like Cesare at the French court, with her intelligence and charm she eventually succeeded in establishing the central position she aimed for.
Lucrezia’s wedding provided another fleeting glimpse into the strange story of Cesare’s non-relationship with his wife Charlotte. Although in January 1501 he had ignored a plea from Alain d’Albret on his daughter’s behalf to come to France, in December he had sent her a lavish present of sweetmeats, wax and other luxuries ordered from Venice. It appears that he had confidently expected Charlotte to join in the festivities at Ferrara, and his gentlemen hung around waiting for her arrival until Ercole, who was heartily sick of the trouble and expense they caused him, packed them back to Rome on the grounds that the Duchess of Valentinois would not arrive before Easter, and that having spent 25,000 ducats on the wedding festivities he could bear no further expenditure.
Although Cesare would doubtless have liked to have his hostage wife safely in Italy, he now had no time to spare for thoughts of a lonely Charlotte or a homesick Lucrezia – he was planning a new campaign. By the early spring of 1502 Spain and France were quarrelling over Naples, and by April it was clear that they would soon come to blows. Although Louis’ attitude to himself had been ambivalent of late, and in mid-April he had renewed his protection of Florence, Cesare knew that the French King’s obsession with Naples could once again be turned to his advantage. As an experienced military leader, with the best independent army in Italy and the prestige of the Papacy behind him, his help would be precious to Louis, and he intended that the French King should pay a very high price for it. This time he had decided to exploit Louis’ need of him to its absolute limits, calculating that bold action would bring profit rather than retribution. In the early summer months of 1502 Cesare was planning his most daring move to date.
XI
‘The Prince’
OMINOUSLY, the recently appointed Venetian envoy to Rome, Antonio Giustinian, reported that on his arrival there in the first week of June 1502 he had been unable to obtain audience either of the Pope or his son. Alexander spent hours in secret council with Cesare, while Giustinian picked up reports that he was being browbeaten by his forceful son into handing over still more money for the forthcoming campaign. ‘Today the Pope has been in some difficulty with the Duke, who wants a further 20,000 ducats for this expedition of his, in which he had already made great expenses … yet although the Pope is being difficult about giving him the money, he will nonetheless come round to acceding to the Duke’s wishes in this matter, as he does in everything else,’ he wrote. Giustinian quickly gained the impression that Cesare was the driving force of the partnership; he tried anxiously to interview him, but failed. Cesare, poised for action, had important secret business on hand. He wanted to keep everyone in the dark until the last possible moment, and especially the inquisitive Venetians.
Over the next few days a series of events exploded with startling suddenness, revealing the long trails laid by the Borgias over the past months. On 4 June the citizens of Arezzo rose against the Florentine government with cries of ‘Medici’, and prepared to open their gates to Cesare’s captain Vitellozzo Vitelli, conveniently awaiting nearby with a force of 3500 men. Simultaneously at Pisa, in revolt against Florence since 1494, Cesare’s name was cried through the streets, and an envoy dispatched to offer him lordship of the city. Meanwhile in Rome rumours began to circulate of a brutal epilogue in the tragic life of Cesare’s captive Astorre Manfredi. On 6 June Giustinian reported to his government: ‘It is said that Thursday night the two young lords of Faenza were thrown into the Tiber and drowned, together with the master of their household.’ Contemporaries pointed to Michelotto as their executioner, and no one doubted that he had acted on his master’s orders. Cesare, on the point of leaving Rome, wanted to make finally sure that the popular young lord of Faenza would present no further threat to him. On 10 June his army, a considerable force of 6000 foot and 700 men-at-arms, was marching north up the Via Flaminia. Three days later he left to join them at Spoleto, ‘but,’ wrote Giustinian reporting his departure, ‘it is not known what road he will take.’
Although Cesare had kept his plans to himself, observers reading the signs knew, or thought they knew, that his objective was the taking of Camerino and Sinigallia to round off his Romagna conquests. There had been rumours of his designs on Urbino, but no one seems to have taken them seriously. The Varano family of Camerino seemed clearly doomed: on 28 February Alexander had opened the campaign in the now familiar manner by issuing a bull of excommunication against them for non-payment of census. As early as the end of April, Giuliano della Rovere, safely out of reach at Savona, had written to Guidobaldo da Montefeltro recommending that he send him his sister’s son Francesco Maria della Rovere, the young Prefect of Sinigallia, for safe keeping. Alexander and Cesare now again recognized Giuliano as a dangerous enemy. Even before Cesare left Rome, Giustinian reported that an attempt by them to lure the Cardinal of San Pietro in Vincoli from Genoa ‘into the hands of the enemy’ had failed.
But while Alexander, after his son’s departure, repeated that Cesare was going against Camerino, the acute Giustinian wondered whether recent events such as the arrival on the 10th of the Pisan envoys had precipitated his departure northward, and caused some alteration in his plans; indeed a descent on Pisa was rumoured as a possibility. In Tuscany Vitellozzo had entered Arezzo on 7 June, to be joined a week later by Gian Paolo Baglioni, followed by Giulio Vitelli and Piero de’ Medici. Alexander initially and Cesare some weeks later disclaimed any knowledge of the Arezzo affair, but as early as 7 June Giustinian wrote: ‘It has been declared to me that this is an “old intrigue” of the Duke’s, but it was not his intention that it should have revealed itself so soon.’ If Cesare had any foreknowledge of Vitellozzo’s intentions, and it seems impossible to believe, a
s some experts on the evidence of his own words have argued, that he did not, he would surely have preferred to synchronize the action with his own arrival in the area. Not only the timing but also the success of the Vitelli raid seem to have taken him by surprise – within a few weeks the strategic valley of the Val di Chiana was in the hands of the Vitelli and Baglioni conspirators. Typically, however, he decided not to abandon but to accelerate the execution of the plan which he had in mind, and to make use of his condottieri’s success to further his own designs.
Over one hundred kilometres to the north of Cesare’s announced objective of Camerino, Guildobaldo, Duke of Urbino, was surprised by the Pope’s request for free passage for the papal artillery through his territory at Cagli, and discomfited by Cesare’s demand from Spoleto that he should send a thousand foot-soldiers to help Vitellozzo at Arezzo, since he knew that in doing so he would offend Florence, and through her the King of France. Reassured, however, by Cesare’s protestations of fraternal love, and the knowledge that the dangerous Valentino was at a safe distance to the south of his duchy, Guidobaldo spent the hot evening of 20 June dining al fresco in the park of a monastery two kilometres from Urbino. At eight o’clock that evening a sweating messenger from Fossombrone arrived with the information that a thousand of Cesare’s troops from the Romagna were marching swiftly down the Via Flaminia from Fano in the direction of Urbino, while shortly afterwards news came from the tiny state of San Marino on Guidobaldo’s northern frontier that a further thousand Borgia troops were massing on its borders. Hastily, Guildobaldo hurried back to his capital, to be greeted by the stunning news that Cesare himself was at Cagli, only twenty miles away, and intended to be in Urbino by tomorrow morning. The wretched Guidobaldo, taken by surprise in a perfect pincer movement, threatened from north, east and south, barely had time to escape, as indeed Cesare had intended he should not. Fleeing from the city that night, he spent a nightmare week dodging Borgia troops sent to catch him, before reaching the safety of Mantua in a state of exhaustion ‘with only a doublet and a shirt to his name’.
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