Wsim24B Ch 14

Charlotte and I honeymooned at Blois. I brought her all of the wedding gifts that the Pope had sent. She was no fool; she knew very well that they'd been intended for Carlotta of Naples (shudder!). She looked them over, and accepted some, while asking me to keep others.

There were pearls, and diamonds, a ruby clasp and five emeralds set in gold. There was a collar studded with rubies and pearls, a gold chain with a massive emerald pendant, a diadem with diamonds, and many, many unset stones. There was silver plate, enamels... too many to list. Charlotte accepted perhaps a third of the total (which the Pope's jewellers had estimated at 20,000 ducats).

- "Sell the rest." she said. "You will need money, I think." She knew the reasons behind our marriage alliance.

King Louis wrote a very nice letter to the Pope, and sent him 100 bottles of claret. He described his own wedding night with Anne of Brittany. "But the Duke of Valentinois has quite surpassed me, having broken eight lances, against my four."

He also held an official ceremony, and presented me with the collar of the Order of St Michael. It wasn't quite like joining the Knights of the Round Table; it was more like being elected to a very select fraternity.

Charlotte wrote her own letter to the Pope - her new father-in-law. She declared herself his devoted daughter, and expressed her wish to come see him in Rome. She also said that she was 'very satisfied' with her husband. My boss wrote back, obviously delighted. There was no sign of his earlier doubts and fears; we were committed to the French alliance. The secret (if it could be called that) had leaked.

Cardinal Ascanio had fled Rome, to the Colonna castle at Nettuno, and from there to Milan. Alfonso Bisceglie had abandoned Lucrezia - who was six months pregnant - and fled to the Colonnas as well. Sancia had left Joffre, and gone back to Naples. Joffre was in disgrace, after a skirmish with the city police in which he'd been badly wounded. The Pope had sent him to the Castel Sant' Angelo.

Charlotte and I made love twice a day, every day. I told her that she shouldn't expect to become pregnant, giving her the same reason I'd given Gina. She understood (I think), but that did little to diminish her ardour. She loved bathing, too, after I introduced her to oral sex.

We had our first disagreement after a month of marriage.

We had just made love for the third time that day, and I was thinking that there might still be time to squeeze in a fourth. I started stroking her hip, and slid a little closer to her.

- "Torun..." she said. "Could we wait until tomorrow? I'm... I'm a little sore. I promise that I'll make it up to you."

- "Of course." I said immediately. "The last thing I want to do is -"

And I stopped dead.

In the twenty-eight or twenty-nine hours after our wedding, we'd made love eight times - and she hadn't complained of soreness until the very last time -

and

she'd been a virgin before that.

"Charlotte?" I asked. "How much did I hurt you, on our wedding night?"

She protested that it hadn't been that bad. I was angry that she'd lied to me.

- "You call that lying?" she shot back. "When all I was doing was trying to give you pleasure? Wasn't that what you wanted?"

- "Not at the cost of your pain!"

We were both seething, and I decided to avoid any more harsh words. The last thing I wanted was for this to escalate into a serious fight. But just as I was about to climb out of bed, I realized that this was different. In fact, it was just like the arguments (the very few arguments) that I'd had with Gina. You don't run away when you're committed. It didn't have to be a battlefield; we could be on the same side, trying to find a solution to our disagreement.

- "Charlotte..." I said. "Neither of us is wrong. You were trying to give me a precious gift - and you did. I only wish that you had done so over a longer time span, so that it hadn't caused you so much pain."

- "It wasn't pain." she said. "Only... discomfort."

She was fibbing again, but I wasn't going to call her on it. "I don't want you suffering even that." I said.

It took a little longer for us to understand each other completely. No, we didn't have make-up sex: she was too sore.

Meanwhile, the preparations for my campaign were advancing. Louis was even able to tell me the names of the French commanders I would be working with.

Like my boss, the Pope, Admiral Colenso (the French King) doubted my ability to command large bodies of troops. The heavy cavalry, 300 lances (including my own 100) would be under Yves d'Alegre, while the Bailly de Dijon would lead 4,000 Swiss and Gascon infantry.

I was eager to see these troops, and to find out what they were like on the march - but I also wanted to spend every day I could with Charlotte.

Louis - or Admiral Colenso - had introduced a new dynamic into our alliance. Charlotte would not be coming with me.

- "You can't take her onto a battlefield."

- "I won't."

- "You also can't make her travel if she's pregnant."

- "She isn't. ISEC implant, remember?"

- "Right. But how do we explain that? Her father would have conniptions if we took her into danger."

He'd never meant to let me take Charlotte with me.

I had no leverage. Charlotte wasn't surprised, either; she'd expected that she would follow me afterwards. Louis drove home the point when he organized an official farewell ceremony, featuring Queen Anne, her ladies, and my wife plus her ladies. There were four of them - three of whom I'd been formally introduced to.

The fourth, though, I already knew.

Tasha. She smiled, and sketched me a curtsy.

Admiral Colenso had set one of Teck's assassins to guard my wife. I got the message: Charlotte was a hostage, to ensure my cooperation, if necessary. But perhaps he was overestimating the hold he had on me.

At the end of July, I had to say goodbye to Charlotte, so that I could follow King Louis to Lyons.

- "I'll send for you." I promised.

- "I'll come." she said.

If they let you, I thought.

***

We crossed into Milanese territory in September. Ludovico Il Moro had already fled his capital, and his strongholds fell easily to the French. The Venetians came in from the east, and captured Cremona. Just as they had done for Charles VIII, Italian lords flocked to kiss Louis' ass - even Ercole d'Este, the Duke of Ferrara (and Ludovico's father-in-law) came to ride in the French King's train.

On October 6th, 1499, Louis rode into Milan to a decidedly lukewarm reception from the populace. There were very few cheers. But the Milanese reserved their ire for the Venetians, calling them dogs, and warning that their turn would come. The French were having Milan for lunch, they said, but Venice would be their dinner.

We visited Ludovico's stables, which were decorated with frescoes and portraits of his horses, and then the monastery of Santa Maria della Grazie, to see a painting: Leonardo da Vinci's recently completed 'Last Supper'. It was huge: fifteen feet high, and nearly thirty feet wide. The French King very much wanted to meet the artist, but was told that da Vinci had gone to Rome to work for the Pope. Alberini winked at me.

The French repeated the behaviour they had shown in 1494-95. They filled the splendid apartments of the Sforza palace with drinking booths and dunghills. French officers spat on the floors, while their soldiers harassed women in the streets.

The Italian princes didn't seem to spare a thought for the fall of the Sforzas; they were all scrambling to secure guarantees for themselves. In that environment, they could hardly fail to notice the exceptional favour that King Louis showed me.

It was here that I first heard myself called 'Valentino'. The Italians couldn't be bothered to pronounce my French title - Valentinois. But they certainly wondered what the Pope and I were up to.

My boss had originally wanted to build a power base for the Borgias in Naples, and even claim the throne for me - hence the idea of marriage to Carlotta. But now, with French troops, the goal had shifted; our target was now the Romagna.

The region south-east of Ferrara was known as the Romagna and the Marches (or Le Marche). If you can find the city of Bologna on a map, follow the road that leads to Rimini and to Ancona. That was a Roman road, the Via Aemilia, and it ran straight as an arrow through the territory we were eyeing.

All of it belonged to the Church, but only nominally. The lords ruled as Apostolic Vicars (Lieutenants of the Church). They paid a yearly tribute, called the census, to their overlord, the Pope. In fact, though, most acted completely independently. Their tribute was almost always in arrears. Politics in these towns revolved around the ruling dynasties and the families that supported or opposed them.

Each town was surrounded by vineyards, orchards, and fertile land, rolling down from the foothills of the Apennines to the coastal plain along the Adriatic. Most of their trade was oriented either to Venice, or to Florence, rather than to Rome.

Bologna was the second-largest and most important city of the Papal States, with a population of 50,000. It was not controlled by the Church, but by the powerful Bentivoglio family, who had many ties through marriage to the Estes of Ferrara.

Further down the road were Imola and Forli, held by the widow of Girolamo Riario, Caterina Sforza. In between these towns was Faenza, held by the Manfredis, who were very popular. Then came Rimini, ruled by Pandolfo Malatesta, the worthless grandson of the despicable murderer Sigismondo. Then there was Pesaro, the lordship of Lucrezia's first husband, Giovanni Sforza, and Camerino, held by the Varano family.

South of there was the Duchy of Urbino, belonging to Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, the unlucky condottiere who had failed so badly against the Orsinis when he worked with Juan Gandia.

The Romagna was a mess, because most of the Lords were worse than useless. In order to support a lifestyle more lavish than they could afford, they shamelessly preyed on their subjects, who in return thoroughly detested their overlords. Many of the rulers passed laws forbidding certain acts, and then would be the first to break their own laws. They would carry on in this manner until a number of people felt safe enough to violate the prohibitions. Then the lord would swoop in and arrest them - not to punish misbehaviour, but to collect fines.

Yet the Romagna had potential. The soil was fertile, and the inhabitants made excellent soldiers (especially men from the Val di Lamone). The founder of the Sforza dynasty had been a Romagnol.

The Pope opened our campaign by declaring the vicarates forfeit, because they had not paid the census. He named Rimini (Pandolfo Malatesta), Pesaro (Giovanni Sforza), Imola and Forli (Caterina Sforza), and Faenza (Astorre Manfredi). These Lords immediately scrambled to find a powerful protector.

The Lord of Pesaro went to Venice, but the Doge was more interested in saving Faenza and Rimini, both of whom were Venetian trade partners. Caterina Sforza, who had been married to a Medici, went to Florence for aid, but the Signoria were terrified of King Louis, and voted for neutrality, which abandoned her to her fate.

Obviously, we needed the French King, not only for the troops he was lending us, but for the power of his name. Otherwise, Venice and Florence would have banded together to block any move by the Pope in the Romagna.

Louis extended his protection to the Bentivoglios of Bologna, on the condition that they assist the Pope in recovering Church lands. Then the King returned to France.

I had d'Alegre and 300 lances, plus the Bailly de Dijon and 4,000 foot. We were joined by a part of the Papal Army: 2,500 men (mostly mercenaries), including my artillery train, which included a number of guns of the French type, mounted on gun carriages. It was also a reunion for me with Juan de Cardona and Ugo de Moncada.

With such a powerful army, I was confident of success, especially against our first targets: Imola and Forli, held by Caterina Sforza. For fifteen years the Riarios had ruled there, and they were almost universally despised for their cruelty and their greed. It was highly unlikely that the people would fight to the death to defend their overlord.

That didn't mean that I underestimated her. Caterina Sforza, at 36, was a legend, known as 'the virago'. The word eventually came to describe a nasty, foul-tempered witch, but in the Renaissance it meant a woman with the warrior spirit of a man.

She was the illegitimate daughter of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, former Duke of Milan, and was married to Girolamo Riario at the age of ten. He was a supporter of Sixtus IV, the della Rovere Pope. When the Pope died, Girolamo found that he had made many enemies in Rome. His residence was looted. But his 21 year old wife - seven months pregnant at the time - occupied the Castel Sant' Angelo on her husband's behalf. She strode the battlements in armour, with a falcon on her wrist. Apparently she terrified her own men as much as she did their enemies.

Girolamo was hated in Forli. After six failed assassination attempts, he was finally killed in 1488. Caterina and her six children were captured, but the castle still held out. She offered to persuade the garrison commander, Tomasso Feo, to surrender. Confident that they held her children as hostages, the conspirators let her go. Once inside, she let loose a barrage of vulgar threats and promises of vengeance against her former captors.

According to legend, her enemies threatened to kill her children. Caterina supposedly raised her skirts, exposing her genitals, and said: "Look, I have all I need to make more!"

With the help of her uncle, Ludovico Il Moro, Caterina defeated her enemies and took bloody revenge.

She'd had three husbands, nine children, and a number of lovers - including at least three who were younger than her. In addition to being brave and ruthless, she was also considered beautiful: a tall, statuesque, natural blonde, who took care of her fine complexion by creating a face lotion and a remedy for sunburn. She dabbled in alchemy, loved fine clothes and jewels, and was said to be eloquent - although still hot-tempered.

Her second husband, Giacomo Feo, was the brother of her loyal castellan - but not a nobleman. Caterina married him in secret. She seemed to be madly in love with him. As Giacomo's power increased, so did his cruelty and insolence. He had the gift of Juan Gandia: to make himself almost universally hated. Onlookers predicted that Giacomo would either kill Caterina and all of her children, or that her eldest son, Ottaviano, would kill them both - especially after Giacomo slapped Ottaviano in the face, in public.

In 1495, Giacomo was murdered. Caterina's vengeance was extreme: she slaughtered the conspirators, their wives (even the pregnant ones),

and

their children, including a three year-old. Thirty-eight people were butchered - literally. Unfortunately, the plot had involved the main supporters of her son Ottaviano Riario, many of whom believed that Caterina had tacitly consented to the murder. She had just eliminated much of her own power base, and lost what little goodwill the people had left for her.

Now my army was on the way to dispossess her. Caterina Sforza chose to resort to desperate measures. There had been plague in Forli. She took a cloth that had been wrapped around a corpse for days, and placed it in a tube containing letters for the Pope - supposedly from the citizens of Forli. Her messenger - unfortunately for the plot - confided in a servant in the Apostolic Palace who was also from Forli.

The two men were arrested, and confessed everything under torture. I didn't know what to believe. Evidence obtained by torture? But then again, why would the Pope fabricate something like this? We didn't need any more of a casus belli against Caterina than we already had.

In late November, we arrived at Imola. The town surrendered before my troops had even approached the walls. The castle, however, held out. I spoke in person to the Castellan, Dionigi da Naldo - or perhaps I should say that we shouted at each other. He refused to yield without a fight.

There were two good reasons for that. Da Naldo came from a famous fighting family from the Val di Lamone, for whom honour was everything. But Caterina Sforza also held his wife and children as hostages in Forli.

The citadel held out for a week, until our artillery had battered down a section of the wall. I had personally sited our guns in the best positions, with help from Vitellozzo Vitelli, a seasoned condottiere.

The small towns and minor strongholds of the countryside yielded quickly and easily. By mid-December, I was ready to move on to Forli. On the 17th, I rode into the town without a fight, despite heavy rain and an artillery barrage from the fortress, still held by Caterina Sforza, in person.

In the next few days, I was unfortunately proved right in my attitude about mercenaries. The French and especially the Swiss soldiers committed their usual depredations - even though these people were my future subjects (or the Church's subjects, at any rate). There was looting, at least two murders, and several rapes.

The camp followers were worse than the soldiers: priests, prostitutes, teamsters, thieves...

I discovered that I had no power over them. The French and Swiss soldiers answered only to their own leaders, and the camp followers answered to no one. I had a dozen of them hanged, but it had little effect.

The only thing I could do was to meet with the leading families of Forli, and promise that I would find a way to make it up to them. I re-appointed almost all of the local officials, which reassured them that I wasn't coming to rob them.

That left me with the problem of the virago in the fortress. I asked for a parley. Caterina Sforza herself came out onto the ramparts above the gate.

I saw blonde hair, whipping in the wind. She was wearing armour. Even at this distance, her expression was haughty.

- "I am the Duke de Valentinois!" I shouted.

- "I know who you are!" she shouted back.

- "Will you not yield, Lady, and prevent unnecessary bloodshed?"

- "Shedding the blood of my enemies is

never

unnecessary!"

I tried to reason with her. "No help will come. The fortress cannot hold out forever. It's only a matter of time!"

- "WHAT?" she shouted. "I can barely hear you! Come closer!"

There was considerable wind. I'd been scanning the walls for signs of a crossbowman (or two), but I didn't think that she would dishonour a parley. Besides, my death wouldn't save her; it was the Pope who was reclaiming her lands.

I rode a few steps further, onto the edge of the drawbridge. I repeated my plea.

- "WHAT?" she shouted.

Now I knew that she was fucking with me. And at just that moment, the drawbridge began to move.

I've made it clear that I was not the greatest horseman. I certainly had not been 'born in the saddle'. But over the past year and more, I'd ridden across France, and hunted with the King, to falcons, and to hounds. I was no centaur, but I was no longer a fearful rookie.

I wheeled my charger, and the beast leapt for safety. We made it. My troops were impressed.

That was my first encounter with Caterina Sforza.

We set up the guns. Within two days, we had a breach.

I sent in the Swiss and the Gascons. The hand to hand fighting was fierce, as the garrison had nowhere to go. In desperation, Caterina ordered the powder and stores to be set alight, but the smoke from the fires hampered the defenders more than the attackers.

Caterina Sforza was captured by a Swiss officer, eager for ransom.

My problems were only just beginning. The French considered it against the laws of chivalry to hold a woman as a prisoner of war. They refused to hear of her being sent to Rome. Had they fallen under Caterina's spell?