There was nothing regal about Francesco della Rovere. He was a large man, uncouth and almost completely toothless, and fat in the manner that comes only from massive self-indulgence. There was little about his speech that could be called eloquent, despite the fact that he was well educated. He was clever in the way that all the della Rovere family were renowned to be: shrewd, manipulative, excessively ambitious, and entirely self-serving. This cleverness had lifted them out of the poverty-stricken fishing village where they originated and into the exalted place they currently held in Roman society. And none of the della Rovere clan had raised themselves up quite as high as the gruff, unpleasant, and enormously narcissistic Francesco della Rovere.
In fact, he was no longer known as Francesco della Rovere. Since 1471, he had been known as Pope Sixtus IV.
During his climb to the throne of Saint Peter, the man now known as Sixtus had bribed, traded, finagled, and promised his way through the maze of Roman politics. No others benefited as well as his own family, most specifically his sister’s relatives, the Riario family. Within a few months of attaining the title of Pope Sixtus IV, he bestowed the title of cardinal upon six of his nephews. This action coined a phrase that would be used for centuries into the future to illustrate the corrupt practice of rewarding unworthy family members with positions and power that were far better suited to others. From the Italian word for nephew—nipote—evolved the word nipotismo. Nepotism.
It was one of these “nephews” that was the source of Lorenzo’s current predicament. There was much smirking when Girolamo Riario was mentioned. While he was recognized as one of the huge brood of Sixtus’ nephews, it was whispered that Girolamo was, in fact, the illegitimate son of the pope. Unlike the other Riario boys, who had some charm and culture, although each was ostentatious and boastful, Girolamo was brash and uncouth, also given to corpulence in a way that showed a tremendous resemblance to his “uncle” the pope. It was often remarked, albeit in Roman whispers, that Girolamo’s appearance and mannerisms proved that the apple did not fall far from the tree.
That his sister had kept his scandalous secret by claiming Girolamo as her own was one of many reasons that Sixtus was in debt to her and eager to hand out favors to his nephews.
And now the convoluted and often dirty family politics of the della Rovere and Riario family had landed squarely on Lorenzo’s doorstep. These people and their corruption made him shudder with revulsion, and yet they were now the first family of Rome. Lorenzo had made the trek to the Vatican when Sixtus had ascended the throne, to pay his respects and to reaffirm the position of the Medici as the primary bankers to the Curia. They had been so for three generations, since the days when his great-grandfather, Giovanni, had first influenced papal politics by providing strategic loans to the Church. Pope Sixtus had embraced Lorenzo, welcoming him and assuring him that the Medici position was as strong as ever in Rome.
Lorenzo needed it to stay that way. Banking with the Church was a cornerstone of Medici profit. It also strengthened his position in other areas of Europe.
All these factors weighed heavily on Lorenzo’s mind as he considered the papal request before him, which had arrived via messenger from Rome this morning. Pope Sixtus IV was requesting a loan of forty thousand ducats—a huge sum—for his so-called nephew Girolamo. It was a type of real estate loan, as the acquisitive Girolamo wanted to buy the town of Imola to add to his holdings.
The money wasn’t the issue here. The bank could easily afford the loan, and it would be guaranteed by papal authority, so in that regard there was little risk. The complicating factor was the location of Imola and the unstable, aggressive nature of Girolamo himself. Imola was in a strategic position, just outside Bologna, therefore between Florence and the rich Emilia-Romagna region. It was the perfect base from which to expand one’s holdings, if one were inclined to begin conquering and acquiring territories. And from what Lorenzo knew of Girolamo Riario, this was precisely what he was intending. Further, the largest road connecting Florence to the north ran through Imola and would be entirely controlled by the lord of Imola.
Essentially, if Lorenzo gave this loan to Girolamo Riario, he was endangering surrounding territories, which were under the protection of Florence. His Florence. And that was something he would never do, even under threat from the Curia.
Lorenzo denied the loan. He sent a messenger to Rome with a carefully drafted letter, indicating that the Medici bank was currently undergoing a series of changes in structure, and as a result loans of that amount were on a temporary hold. He was stalling, and everyone knew it—including Pope Sixtus IV.
Rome
1477
“THAT MERCHANT SON of a gout-stricken idiot and a Florentine whore!”
Pope Sixtus roared with anger when Lorenzo’s reply was brought before him. He disrupted the bowl of fruit before him, grapes and cherries flying across the table as he gesticulated wildly. “How dare he re-
fuse me!”
Girolamo Riario was petulant. He picked up one of the grapes and threw it in a fit of pique. “I want Imola. I need Imola!”
“I know that, you ingrate,” snapped the pope. “Can’t you see I am working on it? The Medici aren’t the only bankers in Italy. Send for the Pazzi. They are always happy to pick up Lorenzo’s scraps.”
The Pazzi, whose name translated from Tuscan to mean “madmen,” were a rival banking family from Florence who had deeply held jealousies toward the Medici monopoly. No doubt the Pazzi bankers would jump on an opportunity to ingratiate themselves into the papal circle. They were a family possessed of rogue personalities, exacerbated by their envy and their greed. A perfect match for what Sixtus needed at the moment.
“I will get the Pazzi here, then,” Girolamo grumbled in his high-pitched whine of a voice. “But that’s not enough. I want Lorenzo punished for his offense to me . . . er, to you. How dare the Medici put himself above Your Holiness?”
“How dare they, indeed,” Sixtus said to himself as Girolamo left on his errand. The pope contemplated the current situation carefully. While it would have been so much simpler if the Medici had simply conceded and played the game according to plan, there were some benefits to be achieved from this turn of events. Lorenzo was far too powerful throughout Europe, enjoying the same respect as his grandfather before him. The expansion of the Medici banks into Bruges and Geneva, and now with talk of London, was proof that their wealth was becoming seriously problematic. And that wasn’t the worst of it. There was that great Medici secret that protected them across the continent, those royal ties they had that reached from Paris to Jerusalem and as far as Constantinople. Even the king of France referred to Lorenzo as “cousin,” and the damnable merchants from Florence had been allowed to use the royal fleur-de-lis in their family crest. It was the French royals’ way of showing their undying loyalty to the Medici.
But why?
Pope Sixtus IV knew why. He had made it his business to know why. You didn’t reach the most powerful throne in the world without becoming a master of intelligence networks.
Pope Sixtus had spies in the Order of the Holy Sepulcher.
In the great morass of family feuds and extreme jealousies that darkened Florentine history, finding someone to turn on the Medici had not been difficult—or even terribly expensive. Sixtus would use his knowledge of the great Medici heresy as his ultimate weapon against them when the time was right, and when he would most benefit from its use. He would bring Lorenzo down, and in doing so, he would accomplish his larger goal: to bring the arrogant, independent Republic of Florence to its knees and acquire it as a papal state. There would be no greater acquisition in the history of the papacy thus far. Florence would be the shimmering jewel in his papal tiara. He would possess it, and no Medici would stop him.
And he knew exactly where to start. He would hit Lorenzo in a very personal place, just to get his attention and remind him who held the real power in Italy.
Florence
1477
A
NGELO POLIZIANO WAS out of breath as he burst through the door of the studiolo.
“Lorenzo. A messenger. Sixtus . . . he is trying to take Sansepolcro.”
Lorenzo ushered his friend in, placing a calming hand on his shoulder as he guided him to a chair. “Sit down, Angelo. Breathe. Now, start from the beginning.”
Angelo nodded. “A messenger has come from Sansepolcro. The pope has sent forces to Città di Castello. He has excommunicaed Niccolò Vitelli for heresy and has announced his intention to place his own man there. He is claiming it as a papal property now.”
“He doesn’t want Città di Castello,” Lorenzo stated the obvious. “And he has no real quarrel with Vitelli. This is revenge on me, and on Florence because of me.”
The town of Città di Castello, while of strategic interest, sitting as it did at the southern border of Tuscany, was more important to Lorenzo for another reason: it was the nearest outpost to Sansepolcro. Sixtus was firing a warning shot at the Medici by threatening the Order. He didn’t dare invade Sansepolcro directly, which was a Florentine possession, as that would be an all-out act of war. But to claim the nearest outpost, and to insult the commander of that region, who was a Medici ally, was a highly calculated attack.
“What are you going to do?”
Lorenzo didn’t even have to think about it. If Sixtus was going to declare war so early in his reign, so be it. Florence would not allow bullying within its territories, or to its allies. He would convince the council to defend Vitelli and the town of Città di Castello. Six thousand Florentine troops seemed like a good start.
Despite the best efforts of Lorenzo and Florence to defend Vitelli, the Città di Castello fell to the forces of the pope. The defeated Niccolò Vitelli was welcomed into Florence as a hero, which was viewed by the papacy as a further act of war. It no longer mattered. Nothing that Lorenzo, or Florence, could do would serve to repair the seething hatred of Pope Sixtus IV. Lorenzo de’ Medici had become an almost singular obsession for him. The arrogant banker from Florence continued to flaunt his wealth and power in ways that Sixtus was certain were meant as intentional and repeated personal insults against his holy person and his esteemed family.
The divide between Florence and Rome deepened into a grand chasm when one of the Riario nephews died quite suddenly. Piero Riario, who held the position of archbishop of Florence, had been the last della Rovere foothold in the republic. His death was a shock, and an unexpected blow to the plans of Pope Sixtus IV. Before Rome could interfere in the affairs of Florence, Lorenzo moved to have Clarice’s brother, Rinaldo Orsini, appointed as the new archbishop of Florence. It happened so quickly that an Orsini was installed and holding the title before the intention was ever announced.
The pope was outraged that he had not been consulted. He appointed his own man, Francesco Salviati, as the new archbishop of Pisa in retaliation. But the lucrative port city of Pisa was a Florentine stronghold, and the laws of the republic indicated that the pope could not affect affairs in their democracy without express consent of the Signoria. That consent was refused, and the pope was told in no uncertain terms that Francesco Salviati would not become the archbishop of Pisa anytime soon. In fact, the Signoria decreed that the pope’s man would not be allowed into Florentine territory at all.
Lorenzo had just added another venomous enemy to the mix. Francesco Salviati, denied the ability to take up his position as archbishop of Pisa and show his faithful service to Pope Sixtus, simmered in his own bile in Rome. The Medici upstart had gone too far. Surely there was something that could be done to punish him for his effrontery.
But Lorenzo did not feel he had gone nearly far enough. After the papal threat to his beloved Sansepolcro, it became clear to him that Sixtus understood the workings of the Order. Finding the traitor in Florence who was supplying information to Rome was one of the many items on Lorenzo’s agenda. But first and foremost, he must protect his republic and its democracy from further papal incursion. Calling a meeting of the leaders of Milan and Venice, he proposed a dominant and intimidating Northern Treaty. The agreement was signed, and the message was clear: the northern Italian republics of Florence, Milan, and Venice would stand together against any further threat of papal tyranny. And there was a subtext to the message, one that was not lost on Pope Sixtus IV: Lorenzo de’ Medici was more important to the rulers of Europe than he was.
The Pazzi were one of the oldest families in Florence, and one of the richest. They had created their fortune in banking in the same way the Medici had but were not as successful in leveraging that fortune into political power and social influence. They were rather infamous squanderers, spending outrageous amounts to build monuments to the family glory. This was in contrast to the successful Medici model, which instead invested in the Florentine community in a way that inspired civic pride, stimulated the economy, and protected the arts.
Jacopo de Pazzi, the current patriarch of the family, had no great love for any of the Medici, although he had known both Cosimo and Piero well and had never been in any kind of real feud with them. There was little point. It was better to be a Medici ally than a Medici enemy. Jacopo was not an overly ambitious man; he did not seek to expand the Pazzi fortunes beyond what he currently possessed, as long as he remained comfortable. And he was a notorious gambler, a pastime that took a significant amount of his energy.
Thus when his nephew Francesco de Pazzi arrived in Florence with reports from the Pazzi bank in Rome, old Jacopo was not at all interested in listening to his ranting about overthrowing the Medici. It was a ridiculous idea, born out of Francesco’s youth and inexperience.
“But Uncle, don’t you see?” The younger man, wiry and fidgety, was pacing wildly around the room. “We can unseat the Medici once and for all. Rid Florence of Lorenzo the Tyrant.”
Jacopo shrugged. “Lorenzo isn’t a tyrant and you know it. Nor do the people of Florence believe that he is. This is a fool’s errand, Francesco. And a dangerous one. We have secured the business of Sixtus for our bank, and I am very content with that.”
Francesco blanched at this. “I secured the business of Sixtus! I did, because I am in Rome and I know the temperature there. I know what Sixtus wants, and what he wants is the end of the Medici. This is the greatest opportunity we will ever have.”
“To do what?”
“To kill Lorenzo.”
Jacopo spit out the wine he had just raised to his lips.
“You want to murder Lorenzo de’ Medici? That’s madness. And even if it weren’t, if I should consider this even for a moment—which I will not—he has a brother. If you kill Lorenzo, Giuliano will inherit, and do so with the sympathy of the people of Florence. And those people will not support you.”
“We’ll kill them both. We will ensure that there will be no more Medici menace.”
“I will hear no more of this talk in my house. Go back to Rome, Francesco. Such plotting does not belong here in our republic.”
“Our family will never have any power in this state as long as
the Medici rule. And as Catholics, we must defend the pope. Lorenzo has deeply offended our Holy Father. He is a heretic who offers insult to the Curia at every turn and keeps the rightful bishop of Pisa from taking his position to minister to Tuscan souls.”
Jacopo got up to usher his nephew to the door. He had heard all he cared to on this day. Besides, there was a game of dice waiting for him at his favorite tavern in the Oltrarno.
“Save your self-righteous speeches for someone who has not known you since you were born, Francesco. I will not support any conspiracy for assassination, not because I bear any great love for the Medici, but because it is doomed to failure. Speak no more of this to me, and I will pretend I did not hear any of it.”
“But Uncle—”
“Go!” Jacopo pushed his nephew out the door and slammed it shut. He hoped that was the last he would ever hear of such a ridiculous idea as a coup d’état against the Medici.
Private chambers of Pope S
ixtus IV
Rome
1477
GIAN BATTISTA DA Montesecco was uncomfortable. To begin with, he was a huge man sitting on an undersized chair, and he was forced to squirm every minute or two to rearrange his bulky frame in a way that would not unseat him. But his discomfort extended beyond the physical and had now permeated his mind and his spirit.
Montesecco was a hardened warrior, a mercenary who never knew anything other than battle and blood. He had been in the service of the Curia for all of his adult life, having inherited the needs of the della Rovere family with the accession of Sixtus IV to the throne. Most of the last few years had been spent in the service of the pope’s sniveling and demanding nephew, Girolamo, who was now the lord of Imola and never let anyone forget that. It was this particular “lord” who was whining at him now.
“My rule in Imola is not worth a pile of Tuscan beans as long as Lorenzo is alive! He opposes me at every turn; he ensures that no one in the Romagna will deal with me.”
Montesecco stayed silent. As a condottiere, a military commander, he knew that the only strategy in such an environment was to determine what the position of each man in the room was before speaking a word. What would a man die for? What would a man kill for? Until you knew the answer to those questions, no speech was safe. He looked to the two others in attendance here in the small antechamber outside of Sixtus’s private apartment. One, Francesco Salviati, was the shunned archbishop of Pisa. It was no surprise to Montesecco that there appeared to be little about this weasel of a man that was potentially holy. Salviati’s beady eyes, set too close together over a hooked nose and prominent overbite, gave him a rodentlike appearance that was somewhat distracting when he spoke.
“The people of Florence will rise up against the Medici tyrants if we lead them! We will liberate them from Lorenzo and his hordes!” This was the rodent speaking.
Montesecco was a soldier, but he was not an ignorant one. He knew that Lorenzo was largely beloved of his people, who had called him il Magnifico since he was a teenager or younger. The Medici had always worked the common folk effectively and donated generously to those causes that supported the needy. What hordes was Salviati speaking of, that he thought Florentines would rise against? Artists? Philosophers? Poets? But the weasel-man was still ranting. Finally, an annoyed Montesecco interrupted.
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