 CHAPTER VI. When, however, M. de Guise and M. de Trombe found themselves pressed in this way, they ordered their two hundred men at arms to turn right about face, while at the opposite end—that is, at the head of the army—Mauricelle de Guise and Trévalse ordered a halt and lances in rest. Meanwhile, according to Custom, the king—who, as we said, was in the centre—was conferring knighthood on those gentlemen who had earned the favour, either by virtue of their personal powers, or the king's special friendship. Suddenly there was heard a terrible clash behind—it was the French rearguard coming to blows with the Marquis of Mantua. Where each man had singled out his own foe as though it were a tournament, very many lances were broken, especially those of the Italian knights, for their lances were hollowed so as to be less heavy, and in consequence had less solidity. Those who were thus disarmed at once seized their swords. As they were far more numerous than the French, the king saw them suddenly outflanking his right wing, and apparently prepared to surround it. At the same moment loud cries were heard from a direction facing the centre. This meant that the Stradiotes were crossing the river to make their attack. The king at once ordered his division into two detachments, and giving one to bourbon the bastard, to make head against the Stradiotes, he hurried with the second to the rescue of the van, blinging himself into the very midst of the melee, striking out like a king, and doing as steady work as the lowest in rank of his captains. Aided by the reinforcement, the rearguard made a good stand, though the enemy were five against one, and the combat in this part continued to rage with wonderful fury. Obeying his orders, bourbon had sown himself upon the Stradiotes, but unfortunately, carried off by his horse, he had penetrated so far into the enemy's ranks that he was lost to sight. The disappearance of their chief, the strange dress of their new antagonists, and the peculiar method of their fighting produced a considerable effect on those who were to attack them, and for the moment disorder was the consequence in the centre, and the horsemen scattered instead of serying their ranks and fighting in a body. This false move would have done them serious harm, had not most of the Stradiotes, seeing the baggage alone and undefended, rushed after that in hope of booty, instead of following up their advantage. A great part of the troop nevertheless stayed behind to fight, pressing on the French cavalry and smashing their lances with fearful scimitars. Happily, the king, who had just repulsed the Marquis of Mantos attack, perceived what was going on behind him, and riding back at all possible speeds to the sucker of the centre, together with the gentleman of his household, fell upon the Stradiotes, no longer armed with a lance, for that he had just broken, but brandishing his long sword, which blazed about him like lightning, and, either because he was world away like Bourbon by his own horse, or because he had allowed his courage to take him too far, he suddenly found himself in the thickest ranks of the Stradiotes, accompanied only by eight of the knights he had just now created, one equity called Antoine de Zambele, and his standard bearer. France, France, he quite allowed, to rally round him all the others who had scattered. They, seeing at last the danger was less than they had supposed, began to take their revenge and to pay back with interest the blows they had received from the Stradiotes. Things were going still better, for the van, which the Marquis de Cajazzo was to attack, for although he had at first appeared to be animated with a terrible purpose, he stopped short about ten or twelve feet from the French line, and turned right about face without breaking a single lance. The French wanted to pursue, but the Maraischal de Guy, fearing that this fight might be only a trick to draw off the vanguard from the centre, ordered every man to stay in his place. But the Swiss, who were German, and did not understand the order, or thought it was not meant for them, followed upon their heels, and although on foot caught them up and killed a hundred of them. This was quite enough to throw them into disorder, so that some were scattered about the plain, and others made a rush for the water, so as to cross the river and rejoin their camp. When the Maraischal de Guy saw this, he detached a hundred of his own men, to go to the aid of the king, who was continuing to fight with unheard of courage, and running the greatest risks, constantly separated as he was from his gentleman, who could not follow him, for wherever there was danger, did that he rushed with his cry of France, little troubling himself as to whether he was followed or not. And it was no longer with his sword that he fought, that he had long ago broken, like his lance, but with the heavy battle-axe, whose every blow was mortal whether cut or pierced. Thus the Stradiotes, already hard-pressed by the king's household and his pensioners, soon changed attack for defence, and defence for flight. It was at this moment that the king was really in the greatest danger, for he had let himself be carried away in pursuit of the fugitives, and presently found himself all alone, surrounded by these men, who, had they not been struck with a mighty terror, would have had nothing to do but unite and crush him and his horse together, but, as Commine remarks, he whom God guards is well guarded, and God was guarding the king of France. All the same at this moment the French were sorely pressed in the rear, and although de Guy's and de la Trombe held out as firmly as it was possible to hold, they would probably have been compelled to yield to superior numbers had not a double aid arrived in time. First in defatiguel Charles, who, having nothing more to do amongst the fugitives, once again dashed into the midst of the fight. Next the servants of the army, who, now that they were set free from the Stradiotes and saw their enemies put to flight, run up armed with the axes they habitually used to cut downward for building their huts. They burst into the middle of the fray, slashing at the horse's legs and dealing heavy blows that smashed in the visors of the dismounted horsemen. The Italians could not hold out against this double attack. The furrier Francaise rendered all their strategy and all their calculations useless, especially as for more than a century they had abandoned their fights of blood and fury for a kind of tournament they chose to regard as warfare. So, in spite of all Gonzaga's efforts, they turned their backs upon the French rear and took to flight. In the greatest haste and with much difficulty they recrossed the torrent, which was swollen even more now by the rain that had been falling during the whole time of the battle. Some thought fit to pursue the vanquished, for there was now such disorder in their ranks that they were fleeing in all directions from the battlefield where the French had gained so glorious a victory, blocking up the roads to Parma and Berchetto. But Mauritial de Guy and de Guise and de Tomrie, who had done quite enough to save them from the suspicion of quailing before imaginary dangers, put a stop to this enthusiasm, by pointing out that it would only be risking the loss of their present advantage if they tried to push it farther with men and horses so worn out. This view was adopted in spite of the opinion of Travolse, Camillo Bittelli, and Francesco Secco, who were all eager to follow up the victory. The king retired to a little village on the left bank of the taro, and took shelter in a poor house. There he disarmed, being perhaps among all the captains and all the soldiers, the man who had fought best. During the night the torrents welled so high the Italian army could not have pursued, even if they had laid aside their fears. The king did not propose to give the appearance of fight after a victory, and therefore kept his army drawn up all day, and at night went on to sleep at Medesano, a little village only a mile lower down, down the hamlet where he rested after the fight. But in the course of the night he reflected that he had done enough for the honour of his arms in fighting an army four times as great as his own, and killing three thousand men, and then waiting a day and a half to give them time to take their revenge. So two hours before daybreak he had the fires lighted, that the enemy might suppose he was remaining in camp, and every man mounting noiselessly, the whole French army, almost out of danger by this time, proceeded on their march to Borgos and Donino. While this was going on the pope returned to Rome, where news highly favourable to his schemes was not slow to reach his ears. He learned that Ferdinand had crossed from Sicily into Calabria with six thousand volunteers and a considerable number of Spanish horse and foot, led, at the command of Ferdinand and Isabella, by the famous Gonzalga de Cordova, who arrived in Italy with a great reputation, destined to suffer somewhat from the defeat at Semi-Nara, at almost the same time the French fleet had been beaten by the Aragonese. Moreover, the battle of the Taro, though a complete defeat for the Confederates, was another victory for the pope, because its result was to open a return to France for that man whom he regarded as his deadliest foe. So, feeling that he had nothing more to fear from Charles, he sent him a brief at Turin, where he had stopped for a short time to give aid to Navarra, therein commanding him, by virtue of his fontifical authority, to depart out of Italy with his army, and to recall within ten days those of his troops that still remained in the Kingdom of Naples on pain of excommunication, and a summons to appear before him in person. Charles VIII replied, one, that he did not understand how the pope, the chief of the league, ordered him to leave Italy, whereas the Confederates had not only refused him a passage, but had even attempted, though unsuccessfully, as perhaps his holiness knew, to cut off his return into France. Two, that as to recalling his troops from Naples, he was not so irreligious as to do that, since they had not entered the Kingdom without the consent and blessing of his holiness. Three, that he was exceedingly surprised that the pope should require his presence in person at the capital of the Christian world just at the present time, when six weeks previously, at the time of his return from Naples, although he ardently desired an interview with his holiness, that he might offer proofs of his respect and obedience, his holiness, instead of according this favour, had quittered Rome so hastily on his approach that he had not been able to come up with him by any efforts whatsoever. On this point, however, he promised to give his holiness the satisfaction he desired, if he would engage this time to wait for him. He would therefore return to Rome as soon as the affairs that brought him back to his own kingdom had been satisfactorily settled. Although in this reply there was a touch of mockery and defiance, Charles was nonetheless compelled by the circumstances of the case to obey the pope's strange brief. His presence was so much needed in France that, in spite of the arrival of a Swiss reinforcement, he was compelled to conclude a peace with Ludovica's forza, whereby he yielded novara to him, while Gilbert de Montpensier and de Orbigny, after defending, inch by inch, Calabria, the Basilicate, and Naples, were obliged to sign the capitulation of Attella after a siege of thirty-two days on the twentieth of July 1496. This involved giving back to Ferdinand II, King of Naples, all the palaces and fortresses of his kingdom, which indeed he did but enjoy for three months, dying of exhaustion on the seventh of September following at the Castello della Somma at the foot of the Suvious. All the attentions lavished upon him by his young wife could not repair the evil that her beauty had wrought. His uncle Frederick succeeded. And so, in the three years of his purposely, Alexander the Sixth had seen five kings upon the throne of Naples, while he was establishing himself more firmly upon his own pontifical seat. Ferdinand I, Alfonso I, Charles VIII, Ferdinand II, and Frederick. All this agitation about his throne, the rapid succession of sovereigns, was the best thing possible for Alexander, for each new monarch became actually king only on condition of his receiving the pontifical investiture. The consequence was that Alexander was the only gainer in power and credit by these changes, for the Duke of Milan and the Republics of Florence and Venice had successively recognized him as Supreme Head of the Church in spite of his simony. Moreover, the five kings of Naples had in turn paid him homage. So he thought the time had now come for founding a mighty family, and for this he relied upon the Duke of Gandia, who was to hold all the highest temporal dignities, and upon Caesar Brogia, who was to be appointed to all the great ecclesiastical offices. The Pope made sure of the success of these new projects by electing four Spanish cardinals, who brought up the number of his compatriots in the Sacred College to twenty-two, thus assuring him a constant and certain majority. The first requirement of the Pope's policy was to clear away from the neighbourhood of Rome all those petty lords whom most people call vicars of the Church, but whom Alexander called the shackles of the papacy. We saw that he had already begun this work by rousing the Orsini against the Corona family, when Charles the Eighth Enterprise compelled him to concentrate all his mental resources, and also all the forces of his state so as to secure his own personal safety. It had come about through their own imprudent action that of the Orsini, the Pope's old friends, were now in the pay of the French, and had entered the Kingdom of Naples with them, where one of them, Virginio, a very important member of their powerful house, had been taken prisoner during the war, and was burdened on the Second's captive. Alexander could not let this opportunity escape him, so, first ordering the King of Naples not to release a man who, ever since the first of June 1496 had been a declared rebel, he pronounced a sentence of confiscation against Virginio Orsini and his whole family in a secret consistory, which sat on the 26th of October following, that is to say in the early days of the reign of Frederick, whom he knew to be entirely at his command, owing to the King's great desire of getting the investiture from them. Then, as it was not enough to declare the gods confiscated without also dispossessing the owners, he made overtures to the Corona family, saying he would commission them, in proof of their new bond of friendship, to execute the order given against their old enemies under the direction of his son Francesco, Duke of Gandia. In this fashion he contrived to weaken his neighbours each by means of the other, till such time as he could safely attack and put an end to Conquered and Conqueror alike. The Corona family accepted this proposition, and the Duke of Gandia was named General of the Church. His father, in his pontifical robe, was bestowed on him the insignia of this office in the Church of St. Peter's at Rome. Matters went forward as Alexander had wished, and before the end of the year the pontifical army had seized a great number of castles and fortresses that belonged to the Orsini, who thought themselves already lost when Charles VIII came to the rescue. They had addressed themselves to him without much hope that he could be of real use to them, with his want of armed troops, and his preoccupation with his own affairs. He, however, sent Carlo Orsini, son of Virginia the prisoner, and Vitellozzo Vitelli, brother of Camillo Vitelli, one of the three valiant Italian condottieri who had joined him and fought for him at the crossing of the Tarot. These two captains, whose courage and skill were well known, brought with them a considerable sum of money from the liberal coffers of Charles VIII. Now scarcely had they arrived at Sita di Castello, the center of their little sovereignty, and expressed their intention of raising a band of soldiers, when men presented themselves from all sides to fight under their banner. So they very soon assembled a small army, and as they had been able during their stay among the French to study those matters of military organization in which France excelled, they now applied the result of their learning to their own troops. The improvements were mainly certain changes in the artillery which made their maneuvers easier, and the substitution for their ordinary weapons of pikes similar informed to the Swiss pikes, but two feet longer. These changes effected, Vitellozzo Vitelli spent three or four months in exercising his men in the management of their new weapons. Then when he thought them fit to make good use of these, and when he had collected more or less help from the towns of Perugia, Todi, and Narni, where the inhabitants trembled lest their turn should come after the Orsini's, as the Orsini's had followed on the colonas, he marched towards Bracciano, which was being besieged by the Duke of Urbino, who had been lent to the Pope by the Venetians in virtue of the treaty quoted above. The Venetian general, when he heard of Vitelli's approach, thought he might as well spare him half his journey, and marched out to confront him. The two armies met in the Soriano road, and the battle straight away began. The Pontifical army had a body of eight hundred Germans, on which the dukes of Urbino and Gandia chiefly relied, as well they might, for they were the best troops in the world. But Vitelli attacked these picked men with his infantry, who armed with their formidable pikes, ran them through, while they with arms four feet shorter, had no chance even of returning the blows they received. At the same time, Vitelli's light troops wheeled upon the flank, following their most rapid movements, and silencing the enemy's artillery by the swiftness and accuracy of their attack. The Pontifical troops were put to flight, though after a longer resistance than might have been expected when they had to sustain the attack of an army so much better equipped than their own. With them they bore to Ronsiglioni, the Duke of Gandia, wounded in the face by a pike thrust, Fabrizia Colonna, and the Envoy. The Duke of Urbino, who was fighting in the rear to aid the retreat, was taken prisoner with all his artillery and the baggage of the conquered army. But this success, great as it was, did not so swell the pride of Vitellozzo Vitelli as to make him oblivious of his position. He knew that he and the Orsini together were too weak to sustain a war of such magnitude, that the little store of money to which he owed the existence of his army would very soon be expended and his army would disappear with it. So he hastened to get pardoned for the victory by making propositions which he would very likely have refused had he been the vanquished party, and the Pope accepted his conditions without demure. During the interval having heard that Trevolce had just recrossed the Alps and re-entered Italy with three thousand swiss, and fearing lest the Italian general might only be the advance guard of the King of France. So it was settled that the Orsini should pay seventy thousand florins for the expenses of the war and that all the prisoners on both sides should be exchanged without ransom with a single exception of the Duke of Urbino. As a pledge for the future payment of the seventy thousand florins, the Orsini handed over to the cardinals Sforza and San Severino the fortresses of Anguillara and Cervetri. Then when the day came and they had not the necessary money they gave up their prisoner the Duke of Urbino estimating his worth at forty thousand ducats, nearly all the sum required, and handed him over to Alexander on account. He, a rigid observer of engagements, made his own general, taken prisoner in his service, pay to himself the ransom he owed to the enemy. Then the Pope had the corpse of Virginio sent to Carlo Orsini and Vitellozzo Vitelli as he could not send him alive. By a strange fatality the prisoner had died eight days before the treaty was signed of the same malady, at least if we may judge by analogy, that had carried off Bejesus' brother. As soon as the peace was signed Prospero Colona and Gonzovo de Cordova, whom the Pope had demanded from Frederick, arrived at Rome with an army of Spanish and Neapolitan troops. Alexander, as he could not utilize these against the Orsini, set them the work of recapturing Ostia, not desiring to incur the reproach of bringing them to Rome for nothing. Gonzovo was rewarded for this feat by receiving the rose of gold from the Pope's hand, that being the highest honor his holiness can grant. He shared this distinction with the Emperor Maximilian, the King of France, the Doge of Venice, and the Marquis of Manchua. In the midst of all this occurred the solemn festival of the Assumption in which Gonzovo was invited to take part. He accordingly left his palace, proceeded in great pomp in the front of the Pontifical Cavalry, and took his place on the Duke of Gandia's left hand. The Duke attracted all eyes by his personal beauty, set off as it was by all the luxury he thought fit to display at this festival. He had a retinue of pages and servants clad in sumptuous liveries, incomparable for richness with anything here to foreseen in Rome, that city of religious pomp. All these pages and servants rode magnificent horses comparisoned in velvet, trimmed with silver fringe, and bells of silver hanging down every here and there. He himself was in a robe of gold brocade and wore at his neck a string of eastern pearls, perhaps the finest and largest that ever belonged to a Christian Prince, while on his cap was a gold chain studded with diamonds, of which the smallest was worth more than twenty thousand ducats. This magnificence was all the more conspicuous by the contrast it presented to Cesar's dress, whose scarlet robe admitted of no ornaments. The result was that Cesar, doubly jealous of his brother, felt a new hatred rise up within him when he heard all along the way the praises of his fine appearance and noble equipment. From this moment Cardinal Valentino decided in his own mind the fate of this man, this constant obstacle in the path of his pride, his love, and his ambition. Very good reason, says Tomasso the historian, had the Duke of Gandia to leave behind him an impression on the public mind of his beauty and his grandeur at this fate, for this last display was soon to be followed by the obsequies of the unhappy young man. Lucrezia also had come to Rome on the pretext of taking part in the solemnity, but really as we shall see later, with the view of serving as a new instrument for her father's ambition. As the Pope was not satisfied with an empty triumph of vanity and display for his son, and as his war with the Orsini had failed to produce the anticipated results, he decided to increase the fortune of his first born by doing the very thing which he had accused Calixtus in his speech of doing for him, vis alienating from the states of the church, the cities of Benevento, Teresino, and Ponticorvo to form a duchy as an appanage to his son's house. Accordingly this proposition was put forward in a full consistory, and as the College of Cardinals was entirely Alexander's there was no difficulty about carrying his point. This new favour to his elder brother exasperated Cesar, although he was himself getting a share of the paternal gifts, for he had just been named envoy à la terre at Frederick's court and was appointed to crown him with his own hands as the papal representative. But Lucretia, when she had spent a few days of pleasure with her father and brothers, had gone into retreat at the convent of San Sisto. No one knew the real motive of her seclusion, and no entreaties of Cesar whose love for her was strange and unnatural had induced her to defer this departure from the world even until the day after he left for Naples. His sister's obstinacy wounded him deeply, for ever since the day when the Duke of Gondia had appeared in the procession so magnificently attired, he fancied he had observed a coldness in the mistress of his illicit affection, and so far did this increase his hatred of his rival that he resolved to be rid of him at all costs. So he ordered the chief of his Sibiri to come and see him the same night. Mikolotto was accustomed to these mysterious messages which almost always meant his help was wanted in some love affair or some act of revenge. As in either case his reward was generally a large one, he was careful to keep his engagement and at the appointed hour was brought into the presence of his patron. Cesar received him, leaning against a tall chimney-piece, no longer wearing his cardinal's robe and hat, but a doublet of black velvet slashed with satin of the same colour. One hand toyed mechanically with his gloves, while the other rested on the handle of a poisoned dagger which never left his side. This was the dress he kept for his nocturnal expeditions, so Mikolotto felt no surprise at that. But his eyes burned with a flame more gloomy than their won't, and his cheeks, generally pale, were now livid. Mikolotto had but to cast one look upon his master to see that Cesar and he were about to share some terrible enterprise. He signed to him to shut the door. Mikolotto obeyed. Then after a moment's silence during which the eyes of Borgia seemed to burn into the soul of the bravo, who with a careless air stood bare-headed before him, he said in a voice whose slightly mocking tone gave the only sign of his emotion, Mikolotto, how do you think this dress suits me? Accustomed as he was to his master's tricks of circumlocution, the bravo was so far from expecting this question that at first he stood mute, and only after a few moments pause was able to say. Admirably Monsignore, thanks to the dress your excellency has the appearance as well as the true spirit of a captain. I am glad you think so, replied Cesar, and now let me ask you, do you know who is the cause that instead of wearing this dress which I can only put on at night, I am forced to disguise myself in the daytime in a cardinal's robe and hat, and pass my time trotting about from church to church, from consistory to consistory, when I ought properly to be leading a magnificent army in the battlefield, where you would enjoy a captain's rank instead of being the chief of a few miserable Sbiri. Yes, Monsignore, replied Mikolotto, who had divined Cesar's meaning at his first word. The man who is the cause of this is Francesco, Duke of Gandia and Benevento, your elder brother. Do you know Cesar resumed giving no sign of ascent but a nod and a bitter smile? Do you know who has all the money and none of the genius, who has the helmet and none of the brains, who has the sword and no hand to wield it? That, too, is the Duke of Gandia, said Mikolotto. Do you know, continued Cesar, who is the man whom I find continually blocking the path of my ambition, my fortune, and my love? It is the same, the Duke of Gandia, said Mikolotto. And what do you think of it, asked Cesar? I think he must die, replied the man coldly. That is my opinion also, Mikolotto said Cesar, stepping towards him and grasping his hand, and my only regret is that I did not think of it sooner, for if I had carried a sword at my side instead of a crozier in my hand when the King of France was marching through Italy, I should now have been the master of a fine domain. The Pope is obviously anxious to aggrandise his family, but he is mistaken in the means he adopts. It is I who ought to have been made Duke and my brother a cardinal. There is no doubt at all that had he made me Duke I should have contributed a daring and courage to his service that would have made his power far weightier than it is. The man who would make his way to vast dominions and a kingdom ought to trample under foot all the obstacles in his path, and boldly grasp the very sharpest thorns, whatever reluctance his weak flesh may feel. Such a man, if he would open out his path to fortune, should seize his dagger or his sword, and strike out with his eyes shut. He should not shrink from bathing his hands in the blood of his kindred. He should follow the example offered him by every founder of empire, from Romulus to Bejesus, both of whom climbed to the throne by the latter of Fratricide. Yes, Nicolotto, as you say, such is my condition, and I am resolved, I will not shrink. Now you know why I sent for you. Am I wrong in counting upon you? As might have been expected, Nicolotto, seeing his own fortune in this crime, replied that he was entirely at Cesar's service, and that he had nothing to do but to give his orders as to time, place, and manner of execution. Cesar replied that the time must needs be very soon, since he was on the point of leaving Rome for Naples. As to the place and the mode of execution, they would depend on circumstances, and each of them must look out for an opportunity and seize the first that seemed favourable. Section 15 of Celebrated Crimes, Volume 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Celebrated Crimes, Volume 1 by Alexander Dumas, translated by G.B. Ives. Section 15. The Borges, Chapter 7, Part 2 Two days after this resolution had been taken, Cesar learned that the day of his departure was fixed for Thursday the 15th of June. At the same time he received an invitation from his mother to come to supper with her on the 14th. This was a fair well-repast given in his honour. Michelotto received orders to be in readiness at eleven o'clock at night. The table was set in the open air in a magnificent vineyard, a property of Rosa Venosa's in the neighbourhood of San Piero in Vinculis. The guests were Cesar Borja, the hero of the occasion, the Duke of Gandia, the Prince of Squelos, Dona Sáncha, his wife, the Cardinal of Monte Reale, Francesco Borja, son of Calixtus III, Don Rodrigo Borja, captain of the Apostolic Palace, Don Goffredo, brother of the Cardinal, John Borja, at that time the ambassador at Perugia, and lastly Don Alfonso Borja, the Pope's nephew. The whole family therefore was present except Lucrezia, who was still in retreat and would not come. The repast was magnificent, Cesar was quite as cheerful as usual and the Duke of Gandia seemed more joyous than he had ever been before. In the middle of supper a man in a mask brought him a letter. The Duke unfastened it, colouring up with pleasure, and when he had read it, answered in these words, I will come. Then he quickly hid the letter in the pocket of his doublet, but quick as he was to conceal it from every eye, Cesar had had time to cast a glance that way, and he fancied he recognised the handwriting of his sister Lucrezia. Meanwhile the messenger had gone off with his answer, no one but Cesar paying the slightest attention to him, for at that period it was the custom for messages to be conveyed by men in Domino, or by women whose faces were concealed by a veil. At ten o'clock they rose from the table, and as the air was sweet and mild they walked about a while under the magnificent pine trees that shaded the house of Rosa Venosa, while Cesar never for an instant let his brother out of his sight. At eleven o'clock the Duke of Gandia bad good night to his mother. Cesar at once followed suit, alleging his desire to go to the Vatican to bid farewell to the Pope, as he would not be able to fulfil this duty on the morrow, his departure being fixed at daybreak. This pretext was all the more plausible, since the Pope was in the habit of sitting up every night till two or three o'clock in the morning. The two brothers went out together, mounted their horses, which were waiting for them at the door, and rode side by side as far as the Palazzo Borgia, the present home of Cardinal Ascaniots Forza, who had taken it as a gift from Alexander the night before his election to the Papacy. There the Duke of Gandia separated from his brother, saying with a smile that he was not intending to go home, as he had several hours to spend first with a fair lady who was expecting him. Cesar replied that he was no doubt free to make any use he liked best of his opportunities, and wished him a very good night. The Duke turned to the right and Cesar to the left, but Cesar observed that the street the Duke had taken led in the direction of the convent of San Sisto, where, as we said, Lucrezia was in retreat. His suspicions were confirmed by this observation, and he directed his horses' steps to the Vatican, found the Pope, took his leave of him, and received his benediction. From this moment all is wrapped in mystery and darkness, like that in which the terrible deed was done that we are now to relate. This, however, is what is believed. The Duke of Gandia, when he quitted Cesar, sent away his servants, and, in the company of one confidential valet alone, pursued his course towards the Piazza della Giudecca. There he found the same man in a mask who had come to speak to him at supper, and, forbidding his valet to follow any farther, he bade him wait on the piazza where they then stood, promising to be on his way back in two hours' time at latest, and to take him up as he passed. And at the appointed hour the Duke reappeared, took leave this time of the man in the mask, and retraced his steps towards his palace. But scarcely had he turned the corner of the Jewish ghetto when four men on foot, led by a fifth who was on horseback, flung themselves upon him. Thinking they were thieves, or else that he was the victim of some mistake, the Duke of Gandia mentioned his name, but instead of the name checking the murderer's daggers, their strokes were redoubled, and the Duke very soon fell dead, his valet dying beside him. Then the man on horseback, who had watched the assassination with no sign of emotion, backed his horse towards the dead body. The four murderers lifted the corpse across the cropper, and walking side by side to support it, then made their way down the lane that leads to the church of Santa Maria in Monticelli. The wretched valet they left for dead upon the pavement. But he, after a lapse of a few seconds, regained some small strength, and his groans were heard by the inhabitants of a poor little house hard by. They came and picked him up, and laid him upon a bed, where he died almost at once, unable to give any evidence as to the assassins or any details of the murder. All night the Duke was expected home, and all the next morning. Then expectation was turned into fear, and fear at last into deadly terror. The Pope was approached and told that the Duke of Gandia had never come back to his palace since he left his mother's house. But Alexander tried to deceive himself all through the rest of the day, hoping that his son might have been surprised by the coming of daylight in the midst of an amorous adventure, and was waiting till the next night to get away in that darkness which had aided his coming thither. But the night like the day passed and brought no news. On the morrow the Pope, tormented by the gloomiest presentiments and by the ravens croak of the Vox Populi, let himself fall into the depths of despair. Amid sighs and sobs of grief, all he could say to anyone who came to him was but these words repeated a thousand times. Search! Search! Let us know how my unhappy son has died. Then everybody joined in the search, for as we have said the Duke of Gandia was beloved by all, but nothing could be discovered from scouring the town except the body of the murdered man who was recognized as the Duke's valet. Of his master there was no trace whatever. It was then thought, not without reason, that he had probably been thrown into the Tiber, and they began to follow along its banks beginning from the Via della Ripetta, questioning every boatman and fisherman who might possibly have seen, either from their houses or from their boats, what had happened on the river banks during the two preceding nights. At first all inquiries were in vain, but when they had gone up as high as the Via del Fontanone they found a man at last who said he had seen something happen on the night of the 14th, which might very possibly have some bearing on the subject of the inquiry. He was a Slav, named George, who was taking up the river a boat laden with wood to Ripetta. The following are his own words. Gentlemen, he said, last Wednesday evening when I had set down my load of wood on the bank I remained in my boat resting in the cool night air, and watching lest other men should come and take away what I had just unloaded. When, about two o'clock in the morning, I saw coming out of the lane on the left of San Girolamo's church, two men on foot, who came forward in the middle of the street, and looked so carefully all around that they seemed to have come to find out if anybody was going along the street. When they felt sure that it was deserted they went back along the same lane, whence issued presently two other men, who used similar precautions to make sure that there was nothing fresh. They, when they found all as they wished, gave a sign to their companions to come and join them. Next appeared one man on a dapple-gray horse which was carrying on the cropper the body of a dead man, his head and arms hanging over on one side and his feet on the other. The two fellows I had first seen exploring were holding him up by the arms and legs. The other three at once went up to the river, while the first two kept a watch on the street, and advancing to the part of the bank where the sewers of the town are discharged into the Tiber, the horseman turned his horse, backing on the river. Then the two who were at either side taking the corpse, one by the hands, the other by the feet, swung it three times, and the third time threw it out into the river with all their strength. Then at the noise made when the body splashed into the river the horseman asked, is it done? And the others answered, yes, sir, and he at once turned right about face. But seeing the dead man's cloak floating he asked what was that black thing swimming about. Sir said one of the men, it is his cloak, and then another man picked up some stones and running to the place where it was still floating through them so as to make it sink under. As soon as it had quite disappeared they went off, and after walking a little way along the main road they went into the lane that leads to San Jacomo. That was all I saw, gentlemen, and so it is all I can answer to the questions you have asked me. At these words, which robbed of all hope any whom I yet entertain it, one of the Pope's servants asked the Slav why when he was witness of such a deed he had not gone to denounce it to the Governor. But the Slav replied that since he had exercised his present trade on the riverside he had seen dead men thrown into the Tiber in the same way a hundred times and had never heard that anybody had been troubled about them. So he supposed it would be the same with this corpse as the others, and had never imagined it was his duty to speak of it, not thinking it would be any more important than it had been before. Acting on this intelligence the servants of his holiness summoned at once all boatmen and fishermen who were accustomed to go up and down the river, and as a large reward was promised to anyone who should find the Duke's body there were soon more than a hundred ready for the job. So that before the evening of the same day which was Friday two men were drawn out of the water, of whom one was instantly recognized as the hapless Duke. At the very first glance at the body there could be no doubt as to the cause of death. It was pierced with nine wounds, the chief one in the throat whose artery was cut. The clothing had not been touched, his doublet and cloak were there, his gloves in his waistband, gold in his purse. The Duke then must have been assassinated not for gain but for revenge. The ship which carried the corpse went up the Tiber to the Castello Sant'Angelo where it was set down. At once the magnificent dress was fetched from the Duke's palace which he had worn on the day of the procession, and he was clothed in it once more. Beside him were placed the insignia of the general ship of the church. Thus he lay in state all day, but his father in his despair had not the courage to come and look at him. At last when night had fallen his most trusty and honored servants carried the body to the church of the Madonna del Papola with all the pomp and ceremony that church and state combined could devise for the funeral of the son of the Pope. Meantime the bloodstained hands of Cesar Borgia were placing a royal crown upon the head of Frederick of Aragon. This blow had pierced Alexander's heart very deeply as at first he did not know on whom his suspicions should fall. He gave the strictest orders for the pursuit of the murderers. But little by little the infamous truth was forced upon him. He saw that the blow which struck at his house came from that very house itself, and then his despair was changed to madness. He ran through the rooms of the Vatican like a maniac, and entering the consistory with torn garments and ashes on his head he sobbingly avowed all the errors of his past life, owning that the disaster that struck his offspring through his offspring was a just chastisement from God. Then he retired to a secret dark chamber of the palace and there shut himself up, declaring his resolve to die of starvation. And indeed for more than sixty hours he took no nourishment by day nor rest by night, making no answer to those who knocked at his door to bring him food except with the wailings of a woman or a roar as of a wounded lion. Even the beautiful Julia Farnese, his new mistress, could not move him at all, and was obliged to go and seek Lucretia, that daughter doubly loved, to conquer his deadly resolve. Lucretia came out from the retreat where she was weeping for the Duke of Gondia that she might console her father. At her voice the door did really open, and it was only then that the Duke of Segovia, who had been kneeling almost a whole day at the threshold, begging his holiness to take heart, could enter with servants bearing wine and food. The pope remained alone with Lucretia for three days and nights. Then he reappeared in public, outwardly calm, if not resigned. For Guicciardini assures us that his daughter had made him understand how dangerous it would be to himself to show too openly before the assassin who was coming home the immoderate love he felt for his victim. End of Section 15. 8. Cesar remained at Naples, partly to give time to the paternal grief to cool down, and partly to get on with another business he had lately been in charge with, nothing else than a propositional marriage between Lucretia and Donatfalso of Aragorn, Ducco Bicelli and Prince of Salerno, natural son of Alfonso II and brother of Dona Sancia. It was true that Lucretia was already married to the Lord of Pesaro, but she was the daughter of Anfator who had received from heaven the right of uniting and disuniting. There was no need to trouble about so trifling a matter. When the two were ready to marry, the divorce would be effected. Alexander was too good a tactician to leave his daughter married to a son-in-law who was becoming useless to him. Towards the end of August, he was announced that the ambassador was coming back to Rome, having accomplished his mission to the new king, took his great satisfaction. On Thaydor, he returned at the 5th of September, that is nearly three months after the Duke of Gandia's death, and on the next day, the 6th, from the Church of Santa Maria Novella, where, according to custom, the Cardinals and the Spanish and Venetian ambassadors were awaiting him on horseback at the door, he proceeded to the Vatican, where his Holiness was sitting. There he entered the Consistory, was admitted by the pop, and in accordance with the usual ceremonial, received his benediction and keys. Then, accompanied once more in the same fashion by the ambassadors and Cardinals, he was escorted to his own apartments. Then he proceeded to the pop as soon as he was left alone. For at the Consistory, they had had no speech with one another, and the father and son had a hundred things to talk about, but of these, the Duke of Gandia was not one, as might have been expected. His name was not once spoken, and neither, on that day nor afterwards, was there ever again any mention of the unhappy young man. It was as though he had never existed. It was the fact that Caesar brought good news, King Frederick gave his consent to the proposed union, so the marriage of Sforza and Lucretia was dissolved on a pretext of neulity. Then Frederick authorized the exhumation of Jem's body, which, it will be remembered, was worth three hundred thousand ducats. After this, all came about as Caesar had desired. He became the man who was all powerful after the pop, but when he was second in command, it was soon evident to the Roman people that their city was making news tried in the direction of ruin. There was nothing but balls, fats, masquerades. There were magnificent hunting parties when Caesar, who had begun to cast off its Cardinals robes, wearing perhaps of the cooler, appeared in a French dress, followed like a king by Cardinals and boys and bodyguard. The whole pontifical town, given up like a courtesan to Orges and the Bocheri, had never been more the home of sedition, luxury, and carnage, according to the Cardinal of Beterba, not even in the days of Nero and Heliocavus. Never had she fallen up on days more evil. Never had more traitors done her dishonor, or sbirra, as taint her streets would load. The number of thieves was so great and the audacity such that no one could with safety pass the gates of the town. Soon he was not even safe within them. No house, no castle, availed the defense. Right and justice no longer existed. Money, fares, pleasure ruled supreme. Still the gold was melting, as in a furnace, at these fets, and by heaven's just punishment, Alexander and Caesar were beginning to combat the fortunes of those very men who had risen through their simony to the present elevation. The first attempt at a new method of coining money was tried upon the Cardinal Cotchenza. The occasion was as follows. A certain dispensation had been granted some time before to a nun who had taken the boughs. She was the only surviving hire to the throne of Portugal, and by means of the dispensation she had been wedded to the natural son of the last king. This marriage was more prejudicial than can easily be imagined to the interest of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. So they sent ambassadors to Alexander to lodge a complaint against a proceeding of this nature especially as it happened at the very moment when an alliance was to be formed between the House of Aragon and the Holy Sea. Alexander understood the complaint and resolved that all should be said right. So he denied all knowledge of the Papal Brief, though he had as a fact received 60,000 Ducats for signing it and accused the Archbishop of Cotchenza, Secretary for Apostolic Briefs of having granted the false dispensation. By reason of this accusation the Archbishop was taken to the castle of Saint Angelo and a suit was begun. But as it was no easy task to prove an accusation of this nature, especially if the Archbishop should persist in maintaining that dispensation was really granted by the Pope, it was resolved to employ a trick with him which could not fail to succeed. One evening the Archbishop of Cotchenza saw Cardinal Valentino coming to his prison. With that frank air of availability which he well knew how to assume when it could serve his purpose, he explained to the prisoner the embarrassing situation in which the Pope was placed from which the Archbishop along whom his Holiness looked upon as his best friend could save him. The Archbishop replied that he was entirely at the service of his Holiness. Caesar on his entrance found the captive seated, leaning his elbows on the table, and he took a seat opposite him and explained the Pope's position. It was an embarrassing one. At the very time of contracting so important an alliance with the House of Aragon as that of Lucreziano Alfonso, his Holiness could not abound to Ferdinand Anisabella that, for the sake of a few miserable ducats, he had signed a dispensation which would un-unite in the husband and wife together all the legitimate claims to a throne to which Ferdinand Anisabella had no right at all but that of conquest. This aboual would necessarily put an end to all negotiations and the Pontifical House would fall by the overthrow of that very pedestal which was to have heightened its grandeur. Accordingly, the Archbishop would understand that the Pope expected of his devotion and friendship. It was a simple and straight aboual that he had supposed he might take it upon himself to accord the dispensation. Then, as the sentence to be passed on such an error would be the business of Alexander, the accused could easily imagine beforehand how truly paternal such a sentence would be. Besides, the reward was in the same hands. As if the sentence was that of a fatter, the recompense would be that of a king. In fact, this recompense would be no less than the honor of Assistantous Envoy, with the title of cardinal, and the marriage of Lucrezia and Alfonso, a favor which would be very appropriate since it would be in thanks to his devotion that the marriage could take place. The Archbishop of Piacenza knew the men he was dealing with. He knew that to save their own hands they would hesitate at nothing. He knew they had a poison like sugar to the taste and to the smell impossible to discover in food. A poison that would kill slowly or quickly as the poison re-willed and would leave no trace behind. He knew the secret of the poison key that lay always on the pub's mantelpiece, said that when his holiness wished to destroy some one of his intimates, he bathed him up in a certain cupboard. On the handle of the key there was a little spike, and as the lock of the cupboard turned stiffly, the hand would naturally press, the lock would yield, and nothing would have come of it but a trifling scratch. The scratch was mortal. He knew too that Cesar Warring made like two lions' heads, and that he would turn the stone on the inside when he was shaking hands with a friend. Then the lions' teeth became the teeth of a viper, and the friend died occurs in Portia. So he gilded partly through fear, partly blinded by the thought of the reward, and Cesar returned to the Vatican armed with a precious paper in which the Archbishop of Conscienza admitted that he was the only person responsible for the dispensation granted to the Royal Nun. Two days later, by means of the proofs Candler furnished by the Archbishop, the pub, in the presence of the Governor of Rome, the auditorium of the Apostolic Chamber, the Advocate, and the fiscal attorney, pronounced sentenced, condemning the Archbishop to the loss of all his benefices and ecclesiastical offices, the guardation from his orders, and confiscation of his goods. His person was to be handed over to the civil arm. Two days later, the civil magistrate entered the prison to fulfill his office as received from the pub, and appeared before the Archbishop accompanied by the clerk, two servants, and four guards. The clerk unrolled the paper he carried and read out the sentence. The two servants untied a packet and, stripping the prisoner of his ecclesiastical garments, they reclothed him in a dress of course, white clothes, which only reached down to his knees, reaches off the same, and a pair of clumsy shoes. Lastly, the guards took him and led him into one of the deepest dungeons of the Castle of St. Angelo, where, for furniture, he found nothing but a wooden crucifix, a table, a chair, and a bed. For occupation, a Bible and a bribery, with a lamp to read by, for nourishment, two pounds of bread, and a little cask of water, which were to be renewed every three days, together with a bottle of oil for burning in his lamp. At the end of the year, the poor Archbishop died of despair, not before he had known his own arms in his agony. The very same day that he was taken into the dungeon, Cesar Borja, who had managed the affair so ably, was presented by the pop with all the belongings of the condemned prisoner. But the hunting parties, balls, and masquerades were not the only pleasures enjoyed by the pop and his family. From time to time, strange spectacles were exhibited. We will only describe two, one of them, a case of punishment, the other no more nor less than a matter of the stud farm. But as both of these give details, with which we would not have our readers created of our imagination, we will first say that they are literally translated from Borja's Latin journal. About the same time, that is, about the beginning of 1499, a certain courtesan named La Corseta was imprisoned, and had a local who came to visit her in woman's clothes, a Spanish moor called from his disguise, the Spanish lady from Barbary. As a punishment, both of them were led through the town, the woman with a petticoat or skirt, but wearing only the moor's dress unbuttoned in front. The man wore his woman's garb, his hands were tied behind his back, and the skirt fastened up to his middle, with a view to complete exposure before the eyes of all. When in this attire they had made the circuit of the town, the Corseta was sent back to the prison with the moor. But on the 7th of April, following the moor, was again taken out, and escorted in the company of two thieves towards the Campo de Fiori. Three condemned men were then preceded by a constable who rode backwards on an ass, and held in his hand a long pole, on the end of which were hung, still bleeding, the amputated limbs of a poor Jew who had suffered torture and death for some trifling crime. When the procession reached the place of execution, the thieves were hanged, and the unfortunate moor was tied to a stake piled around Roundwood Wood, where he was to have been burnt to death, had not reigned falling in such torrents that the fire would not burn in spite of all the efforts of the executioner. This overlooked for accident, taken as a miracle by the people, Rob Lucretia, was the most exciting part of the execution. But her father was hauling in reserve another kind of a spectacle to console her with later. We informed the reader once more that a few lines were about to set before him are a translation from the Journal of the Worthy German Bouchard, who saw nothing in the bloodiest of most one-time performances but facts for his journal, which he dueled and registered with the impossibility of a scribe, appending no remark or moral reflection. On the 11th of November, a certain peasant was entering Rome with two stallions laden with wood, with the servants of his holiness, just as he passed the piazza of St. Peter's, cut their grits, so that their loads fell on the ground with the packed settles, and led off the horses to a court between the palace and the gate. Then the stable doors were opened and four stallions, quite free and unbridled, rushed out, and in an instant all six animals began kicking, biting and fighting each other until several were killed. Roderiu and Madame Ilucrezia, who sat at the window just over the palace gate, took the greatest delight in the struggle and called their courtiers to witness the gallant battle that was being fought below them. Now Cicero's streak in the matter of the Archbishop of Cocenza had had the desired result, and Isabella and Ferdinand could no longer impute to Alexander the signature of the brief they had complained of off, so nothing was now in the way of the marriage of Lucrezia and Alfonso. This certainly gave the Pope great joy, for he attached all the more importance to this marriage because he was already cogitating the second between Cicero and Donia Carlotta, Frederick's daughter. Cicero has shown in all his actions since his brother's death, his one for vocation for the ecclesiastical life. So no one was astonished when a concistory having been summoned one morning by Alexander, Cicero entered and addressed in the pub, began by saying that from his earliest years he had been drawn toward secular pursuits both by natural inclination and ability, and he had only been in obedience to the absolute commands of his holy nests that he entered the church, accepted the cardinal's scarlet, other dignities, and finally the sacred order of the diaconate, but feeling that in his situation it was improper to follow his passions and at his age impossible to resist him, he humbly entreated his holy nests graciously to yield to the desire he had failed to overcome, and to permit him to lay aside the dress and dignities of the church and enter once more into the world, there to contract a lawful marriage. Also he entreated the lord cardinals to intercede for him with his holy nests, to whom he would freely resign all his churches, abysses, and benefices, as well as every other ecclesiastical dignity and preferment that had been accorded to him. The cardinals, deferring to Cicero's wishes, gave him unanimous vote, and the pope, as we might suppose, like a good father, not wishing to force his sons to synchronizations, accepted his resignation, and yielded to the petition. Thus Cicero put off the scarlet robe which was suited to him, Cicero's historian Tomaso Tomasi, in one particular only, that it was the color of blood. In truth, the resignation was a present necessity, and there was no time to lose. Charles VIII, one day after he had come home late and tired from the hunting field, had bathed his head in cold water, and, going straight to the table, had been struck down by an apoplectic seizure directly after his supper, and was dead, living in the front to the good Louis XII, a man of two conspicuous weaknesses. One as the plural as the order, the first was the wish to make conquests, the second was the desire to have children. Alexander, who was on the watch for all political changes, had seen in a moment what he could get from Louis II, the 12th's accession to the front, and was prepared to profit by the fact that the new king of France needed his help for the accomplishment of his two-fold desire. Louis needed, first, his temporal aid in an expedition against the dog-chai of Milan, on which, as we explained before, he had inherited claims from Valentina Bisconti, his grandmother, and, secondly, his spiritual aid to dissolve his marriage, with Gian, the daughter of Louis XI. A childless and hideous-lived foreign woman, who he had only married by reason of the great fear he entertained for her father. Now, Alexander was willing to do all this for Louis XII, and to give an addiction. In addition, a cardinal's had to his friend George D'Ambois, provided only that the king of France would use his influence in persuading the young Donia Carlotta, who was at his court, to marry his own Caesar. So, as this business was already far advanced on the day when Caesar doffed his Scarlet and Don the Secular Garb, thus fulfilling the ambition so long cherished, when the lord of Villeneuve, sent by Louis and commissioned to bring Caesar to France, presented himself before the ex-cardinal on his arrival at Rome, the latter with his usual extravagance of luxury, and the kindness he knew well, hoped to bestow on those he needed, entertained his guest for a month, and did all the owners of Rome. After that, they departed, preceded by one of the pop's couriers, who gave orders that every town they passed through was to receive them with marks of honor and respect. The same order had been set throughout the Hall of France, where the illustrious visitors received some numerous accords, and were welcomed by a population so eager to be hauled them, that after they passed through Paris, Caesar's gentleman in waiting, wrote to Rome that they had not seen any trees in France, or houses, or walls, but only men, women, and sunshine. The king, on the pretext of going out hunting, went to meet his guest, two leagues outside the town. As he knew Caesar was very fond of the name of Valentin, which he had used as cardinal, and still continued to employ with the title of Count, although he had resigned the Archbishop, which gave him the name, he there and then bestowed and him the investiture of Belance, in Dauphin, with the title of Duke and a pension of 20,000 francs. Then, when he had made this magnificent gift and talked with him for an early couple of hours, he took his leave to enable him to prepare the splendid entry he was proposing to make. It was Wednesday, the 18th of December, 1498, when Caesar Borgia entered the town of Chinon, with pomp worthy of the son of a pop who is about to marry the daughter of a king. The procession began with four and twenty mules, caparis undone red, adorned with escutcheons bearing the dukes' arms, laden with carved trunks and chests inlaid with ivory and silver. After them came four and twenty mare, also caparis undone, this time in the library of the king of France, yellow and red. Next after these came ten order mules, covered in yellow setting with red crossbars, and lastly another ten, covered with strapped clothes of gold, the strap's alternatively rinsed and flat gold. Behind the seventy mules, which led the procession, there print sixteen handsome battle horses, lay by equities who march alongside. These were followed by eighteen hunters reddened by eighteen pages, who were about fourteen or fifteen years of age. Sixteen of them were dressed in crimson velvet, and two in race called cloth. So elegantly dressed were these two children, who were also the best looking at the little band, that the sight of them gave rise to strange suspicions as to the reasons for this preference, if one may believe what Branton says. Finally behind these eighteen horses came six beautiful mules, all harness with red velvet, and laid by six ballet, also in velvet to match. The third group consisted of first two mules, quite covered with clothes of gold, each carrying two chests, in which it was said that the duke's treasure was stored. The precious stones he was bringing to his fiancee, and the relics and papal bulls that his father had cherished him to convey from him to Louis XII. These were followed by twenty gentlemen dressed in clothes of gold and silver, among whom rode Paul Georgiano Orsino and several barons in nights among the chiefs of the estate ecclesiastic. Next came two drums, one rebeck, and four soldiers blowing trumpets and silver clarions. Then in the midst of a parry of four and twenty lackeys, dressed half in crimson velvet and half in gel of silk, rode Miser George Dumbois and Monsignor the duke of Valentinois. Cesar was mounted on a handsome tall cursor, very richly harnessed in a row-health rain setting and a half-cloth of gold, embroidered all over with pearls and precious stones. In his cap were two rows of rubies, the size of beans, which reflected so brilliantly the light that one might have fancied they were the famous carbuncles of the Arabian Nates. He also wore on his neck a collar worth at least 200,000 livers. Indeed, there was no part of him, even down to his boots, that was not laced with gold and edged with pearls. His horse was covered with curias in a pattern of golden foliage of wonderful warmership among which there appeared to glow, like flowers, nosegays of pearls and clusters of rubies. Lastly, bringing up the rear of the magnificent cottage behind the duke came 24 mules with red caparis on spear in his arms, carrying his silver plate, tents and baggage. What gave to all the cavalcade and air of most wonderful luxury and extravagance was that the horses and mules were shot with golden shoes and these were so badly nailed on that more than three-quarters of their number were lost on the road. For this extravagance Cesar was greatly blamed for it was thought and of the issue stinking to put on his horse's feet a metal of which kings and scrounds are made. But all this pomp had no effect on the lady for whose sake it had been displayed, for when Luña Carlota was told that Cesar Borja had come to France in the hope of becoming her husband, she replied simply that she would never take a priest for her husband and moreover the son of a priest, a man who was not only an assassin but a fratricide not only a man of infamous birth but is still more infamous in his morals and his actions. But in the fall of the haughty lady of Aragon, Cesar soon found another princess of noble blood who consented to be his wife. This was Mademoiselle Delbred, daughter of the king of Navarre. The marriage arranged a condition that the pope should pay 200,000 Ducats Delbred to the bride and should make her brother cardinal was celebrated on the 10th of May and on the week Sunday following the dukes of Balintois received the order of Saint Michael, an order founded by Louis XI and is deemed at this period as the highest in the gift of the kings of France. The news of this marriage which made an alliance with Louis XII certain was received with great joy by the pope who at once gave orders, far-bomb fires and illuminations all over the town. Louis XII was not only grateful to the pope for dissolving his marriage with Gianno France and authorizing his union with Anne of Brittany but he considered indispensable to his designs in Italy to have the pope as his ally. So he promised the duke of Balintinois to put 300 lances at his disposal as soon as he had made an entry into Milan to be used to further his own private interests and against whomsoever he pleased accept only the allies of France. The conquest of Milan should be undertaken so soon as Louis felt assured of the support of the munitions or at least of their neutrality and he had sent the ambassadors of Paris to promise in his name the restoration of Cremona and Ghiradada when he had completed the conquest of Lombardy. End of section 16. Section 17 of Celebrated Crimes, Volume 1. This is a liberal box recording. All liberal box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriBox.org. Recording by Mario Pineda. Celebrated Crimes, Volume 1, by Alexander Dumas. Translated by G.B. Yves, Section 17. The Borges, Chapter 9. Everything from without was favoring Alexander's encroaching policy when he was compelled to turn his eyes from France towards the center of Italy. In Florence, dwelt a man, neither Duke nor king nor soldier, a man whose power was in his genius, whose armor was his purity, who owed no offensive weapon but his tongue, and who yet began to grow more dangerous for him than all the kings, dukes, princes, and the whole world could ever be. This man was the poor Dominican monk Girolamo Savonarola, the same who had refused a solution to Lorenzo del Medici because he would not restore the liberty of Florence. Girolamo Savonarola had prophesied the invasion of a force from beyond the Alps, and Charles VIII had conquered Naples. Girolamo Savonarola had prophesied that Charles VIII, that because he had failed to fulfill the mission of liberator entrusted to him by God, he was threatened with a great misfortune as a punishment, and Charles was dead. Lastly, Savonarola had prophesied his own fall like the man who paced around the holy city for eight days crying, Woe to Girolamo, and on the ninth day, Woe be on my own head. Nonetheless, the Florentine reformer, who could not recall from any danger, was determined to attack the colossal abomination that was sitting on St. Peter's Holy Throne. Each debauch, each fresh crime, had that lifted up its brazen face to the light of day, or tried to hide its shameful head beneath the bile of night, he had never failed to paint out to the people, denouncing it as the offspring of the pop's luxurious living and lost of power. Those had he stigmatized Alexander's new amour more with the beautiful Julia Farnese, who, in the preceding April, he added an honour soon to the pop's family. Those had he cursed Duke of Gandia's murderer, the lustful Jelous Frutterside. Lastly, he had pointed out to the Florentines, who were excluded from the league them forming, what sort of future was in store for them, when the Borges should have made themselves masters of small principalities, and should come to attack the dukes and republics. It was clear that in Sabonarola, the pop had an enemy at once, temporal and spiritual, whose important and threatening voice must be silenced at any coast. But mighty as the pop's power was, to accomplish a design like this was no easy matter. Sabonarola, preaching the stern principles of liberty, had united to his cause, even in the midst of rich, pleasure-loving Florence, a body of some size, known as the Piagnoni or the Penitents. This man was composed of citizens who were anxious for reforming church and state, who accused the Medici of enslaving the Fireland and the Borges of upsetting the fate, who demanded two things, that the republic should return to her democratic principles and religion to a primitive simplicity. Towards the first of these projects, several progress had been made, since they had successively obtained, first, an amnesty for all crimes and delinquencies committed under other governments, secondly, the abolition of Dibalia, which was an aristocratic magistracy. Thirdly, the establishment of a sovereign council composed of 1800 citizens. And lastly, the substitution of popular elections for drawing by lot, and for oligarchical nominations. These changes had been affected in spite of two other factions, the Arabiari or Madmen, who, consisting of the richest and noblest youths of the Florentine-Patrician families, decided to have an oligarchical government, and the Biji or Grace, so-called because they always held their meetings in the shade, who decided to return to the Medici. The first measure Alexander used against the growing power of Savonarola was to declare him heretic, and as such, vanished from the pulpit. But Savonarola had eluded this prohibition by making his pupil and friend, Dominico Bambicini di Pescia, preach in his stead. The result was that the master's teachings were issued from other leaps, and that was all. The seed, those scattered by an or hand, fell nonetheless on fertile soil, where it would soon burst into flower. Moreover, Savonarola now set an example that was followed to good purpose by Luther, when twenty-two years later, he burned Leo's detents, bold of excommunication, and Wittenberg. He was wary of silence, so he declared, on the authority of Pope Bellagius, that an unjust excommunication had no efficacy, and that the person excommunicated unjustly did not even need to get a solution. So, on Christmas Day, 1497, he declared that, by the inspiration of God, he renounced his obedience to a corrupt master, and he began to preach once more in the cathedral with a success that was all the greater for the interruption, and and influence far more formidable than before, because he was strengthened by that sympathy of the masses, which an unjust persecution always inspires. Then, Alexander made overtures to Leonardo del Medici, because of the archbishopric of Florence to obtain the punishment of the rebel, Leonardo. In obedience to the orders he received from Rome, he issued a mandate forbidden to faithful to attend at Savonarola's sermons. After this mandate, any who should hear the discourses of the excommunicated monk would be refused communion and confession, and as one they died they would be contaminated with heresy, in consequence of their spiritual intercourse for a heretic, their dead bodies would be dragged on a hurdle and deprived of the rights of the culture. Savonarola appealed from the mandate of his superior both to the people and to the scenery, and the two together gave orders to the Episcopal bicar to leave Florence within two hours. This happened at the beginning of the year 1498. The expulsion of Leonardo's del Medici was a new triumph for Savonarola, so wishing to turn to good moral account his growing influence, he resolved to convert the last day of the carnival here to giving up to worldly pleasures into a day of religious sacrifice. So actually, on shrub Tuesday, a considerable number of boys were collected in front of the cathedral, and they are divided into bands, which traverse the whole town, making a house to house visitation, claiming all profane books, licentious paintings, lutes, harps, cards and eyes, cosmetics and perfumes. In a word, all the hundreds of products of a corrupt society and civilization, by the aid of which Satan at times makes victorious war on God. The inhabitants of Florence obeyed and came forth to the piazza of the Duoma, bringing these works of perdition, which were soon piled up in a huge sack, which the youthful reformers set on fire, singing religious psalms and hymns of the wild. On this pile were burned many copies of bocaccio and of morangante maggiore, and pictures of frobar to lameo, who from that day forward renounced the art of this world to consecrate his brush utterly and entirely to the reproduction of religious sins. A reform such as this was terrifying to Alexander, so he resolved on fighting Sabonarola with his own weapons, that is, by the force of eloquence. He chose as the Dominican's opponent a preacher of recognized talent called Fra Francesco de Baggia, and he sent him to Florence, where he began to preach in Santa Croce, accusing Sabonarola of heresy and impiety. At the same time, the Pope in the new brief announced that to the Signaria that unless they forbade the arch heretic to preach, all the goods of Florentine merchants who lived on the Papal territory would be confiscated, and the Republic late on then are interdict and declare the spiritual and temporal enemy of the Church. The Signaria, abandoned by France and aware that the material power of Rome was increasing in a frightful manner, was forced to this time to yield and to issue to Sabonarola an order to live off preaching. He obeyed and obeyed farewell to his congregation in a sermon full of strength and eloquence. But the withdrawal of Sabonarola so far from calming the ferment had increased it. There was talk about his prophecies being fulfilled, and some sealants, more ardent than their mastery added miracle to inspiration, and loudly proclaimed that Sabonarola had offered to go down into the bolts of the cathedral with his antagonist, and there bring a dead man to life again, to prove that his doctrine was true, promising to declare himself banquished if the miracle were performed by his adversary. These rumors reached the ears of Fra Francesco, and as he was a man of warm blood, who counted his own life as nothing if it might be spent to help his ghost, he declared in an own humility that he felt he was too great a sinner, for God to work a miracle on his behalf. But he proposed another challenge. He would try with Sabonarola the ordeal of fire. He knew he said that he must perish, but at least he should perish, avenging the cause of religion, since he was certain to involve in his destruction the tempter who plunged so many souls, beside his own, into eternal damnation. The proposition made by Fra Francesco was taken to Sabonarola. But as he had never proposed the earlier challenge, he hesitated to accept the second. Hereupon, his disciple Fra Domenico Bombicini, more confident than his mastery and his own power, declared himself ready to accept the trial by fire in his stead. So certain was he that God would perform a miracle by the intercession of Sabonarola, his prophet. Instantly the report spread to Florence that the mortal challenge was accepted. Sabonarola's partisans, all men of the strongest convictions, felt no doubt as to the success of their cause. His enemies were enchanted at the thought of the heretic himself to the flames, and the indifferent soul and the ordeal are a spectacle of real and terrible interest. But the devotion of Fra Bombicini's opatia was not what Fra Francesco was reckoning with. He was willing, no doubt, to die a terrible death, but on condition that Sabonarola died with him. What mattered to him the death of an obscure disciple like Fra Bombicini? It was the master he would strike, the great teacher who must be involved in his own ruin. So he refused to enter the fire except with Sabonarola himself, and playing this terrible game in his own person would not allow his adversary to play it by proxy. Then a thing happened which certainly no one could have anticipated. In the place of Fra Francesco, who would not tilt with any but the master, two Franciscan monks appeared to tilt with the disciple. These were Fra Nicolas de Pili and Fra Andrea Rondinelli. Immediately the partisans of Sabonarola, seeing this arrival of reinforcements for their antagonists, came forward in a crowd to try their ordeal. The Franciscans were unwilling to be behind hand, and everybody looked to the sides with equal ardor for one or another party. All Lawrence was like the end of madmen. Everyone wanted the ordeal, everyone wanted to go into the fire. Not only did men challenge one another, but women and even children were clamoring to allow the try. At last the Sinoria, reserving his privilege for the first applicants, ordered that this strange duel should take place only between Fra de Matico Bombicini and Fra Andrea Rondinelli. Ten of the citizens were to arrange all the details, the dates for the 7th of April, 1498, and the place de Piazza del Palazzo. The judges of the field made their arguments conscientiously. By their orders a scaffolding was erected at the appointed place, five feet in height, ten in width, and eight feet long. This scaffolding was covered with fagots and heat supported by crossbars, with the very dryest wood that could be found. Two narrow paths were made, two feet wide at most, their entrance given, and the loggia de Lanci, their exit exactly opposite. The loggia was itself divided into two by a partition, so that each champion had a kind of room to make his preparations in, just as in the theater every actor has his present room. But in this instance the tragedy was that about to be played was not a fictitious one. The Francis Cairns arrived in the Piazza and entered the compartment reserved for them without making any religious demonstration, while Sabonarola on the contrary advanced to his own place in the procession, wearing these sacerdotal robes in which he had just celebrated the holy Eurychorist, and holding in his hand the sacred host for all the world to see, as it was enclosed in a crystal tabernacle. Fra Dominico di Petsia, the hero of the occasion, followed bearing a crucifix, and all the Dominican monks, their red crosses in their hands, marched behind, singing a song. While behind them again followed the most considerable of the citizens of the party, bearing torches, for sure as they were a triumph for their cause, they wished to fire the fagots themselves. The Piazza was so crowded that the people overflowed into all the streets around. In every door and window there was nothing to be seen but heads ranged one above the other. The terraces were covered with people, and curious spectators were observed at the roof of the Duomo and on the top of the Campanile. But, for a face to face with the ordeal, the Francis Cairns raised such difficulties that it was very plain the heart of their champion was failing him. The first fear they expressed was that Fra Bumbinchini was an enchanter, and so carried about him some talisman of charm which would save him from the fire. So they insisted that he should be stripped of all his clothes and put on others to be inspected by witnesses. Fra Bumbinchini made no objection, though the suspicion was humiliating. He changed shirt, dress and cowl. Then, when the Francis Cairns observed that Savonarola was placing the tabernacle in his hands, they protested that it was profanation to expose the sacred house to the risk of burning, that this was not in the bond, and in Bumbinchini would not give up his supernatural aid. They farred their part, would give up the trial altogether. Savonarola replied that this was not astonishing that the champion of religion who put his faith in God should bear in his hands that very God to whom he entrusted his salvation, but this reply did not satisfy the Francis Cairns who were unwilling to let go of their contention. Savonarola remained inflexible, supporting his own right, and thus nearly four hours passed in the discussion of points which neither party would give up and affairs remained in a static wall. Meanwhile, the people jammed together in the streets, on the terraces, on the roofs, since break of day, were suffering from hunger and thirst and beginning to get impatient. Their impatience soon developed into loud murmurs which reached even the champions' ears, so that the partisans of Savonarola who felt such faith in him that they were confident of a miracle and treated him to yield to all the suggestions suggested. To this Savonarola replied that if it were himself making the trial, he would be less inexorable, but since another man was incurring the danger, he could not take too many precautions. Two more hours passed while his partisans tried in vain to combat his refusals. At last, as night was coming on and the people grew even more and more impatient and their murmurs began to assume a threatening tone, but Bencini declared that he was ready to walk through the fire, holding nothing in his hands but a crucifix. No one could refuse him this, so Fran Rondinelli was compelled to accept his proposition. The announcement was made to the populace that the champions had come to terms and the trial was about to take place. At this news, the people calmed down in the hope of being compensated at last for the long wait, but at that very moment a storm which had long been threatening break over Florence with such fury that the fagots which had just been lighted were extinguished by the rain, leaving no possibility of their rekindling. From the moment when the people suspected that they had been fooled, their enthusiasm was changing to derision. They were ignorant from which side the difficulties had arisen that had hindered the trial, so they laid the responsibility on both champions without distinction. This ignoria, foreseeing the disorder that was now imminent, ordered the assembly to retire, but the assembly thought otherwise and stayed on the piazza, waiting for the departure of the two champions, in spite of their fearful rain that still fell in torrents. Rondinelli was taken back amid shouts and hootings and pursued with showers of stunts. Savonarola, thanks to his sacred garments and the host which he still carried, passed Calmiel Naft through the midst of a mob, a miracle quite as remarkable as if he had passed through the fire unscathed. But it was only the sacred majesty of the host that protected this man, who was indeed from this moment regarding as a false prophet. The crowd allowed Savonarola to return to his convent, but they regretted the necessity, so excited were they by the Arabiati party, who had always denounced him as a liar and a hypocrite. So, when the next morning, Palm Sunday, he stood up in the pulpit to explain his conduct, he could not obtain a moment's silence from insults, hooting, and loud laughter. Then the outcry, at first derisive, became menacing. Savonarola, whose voice was too weak to subdued it to mold, descended from his pulpit, retiring into the sacristy, and thence to his convent, where he shot himself off in his cell. At the moment, a cry was heard, and was repeated to everybody present. To San Marco, to San Marco, the rioters, fevered first, were recruited by all the populace, as they swept along the streets, and at last reached the convent, dashing like an angry sea against the wall. The doors, closed on Savonarola's entrance, soon crashed before the vehement onset of the powerful multitude, which struck down on the instant every obstacle it met. The whole convent was quickly flooded with people, and Savonarola, with two of his confederates, Domenico Bambinchini and Silvestro Marufi, was arrested in his cell, and conducted to prison amid the insults of the crowd, who, always in extremes, whether of enthusiasm or hatred, would have liked to tear them to pieces, and would not be quieted, till they had accepted the promise that the prisoner should be forcibly compelled to make the trial of fire which they have refused to make of their own free will. Alexander VI, as we may suppose, had not been without influence in bringing about this sudden and astonishing reaction, although he was not present in person, and had scarcely learned the news of Savonarola's fallen arrest when he claimed him as subject to ecclesiastical jurisdiction. But in spite of the grant of indulgences, wherewith this demand was accompanied, the Zinoria insisted that Savonarola's trial should take place at Florence, adding a request so as to not appear to withdraw the accused completely from the Pontifical Authority, that the Pope would send two ecclesiastical judges to sit in the Florentine Tribunal. Alexander, seeing that he would get nothing better from the magnificent Republic, sent his deputies, Yoko Chino, Turiano Benic, general of the Dominicans, and Francesco Ramolini, Dr. Relou. They practically brought the sentence with them, declaring Savonarola and his accomplices heretics, schismatics, persecutors of the church, and seduces of the people. The firmness shown by the Florentines inclaiming the rise of jurisdiction were nothing but an empty show to save appearances. The tribunal, as a fact, was composed of eight members, all known to be fervent haters of Savonarola, whose trial began with the torture. The result was that, feebly embodied constitutionally nervous and irritable, he had not been able to endure direct and overcome by agony just at the moment when the executioner had lift him up by the wrists and then dropped him at a distance of two feet to the ground. He had confessed, in order to get some respite, that his prophecies were nothing mere than conjectures. If it is true that so soon as he went back to prison, he protested against the confession, saying that it was the weakness of his bodily organs and his wanton firmness that had rested the life from him, but that the truth further was that the Lord had several at times appeared to him in his excesses and revealed the things that he had spoken. This protestation led to a new application of the torture during which Savonarola succumbed once more to the dreadful pain and once more retracted, but the scarcely was he unbound and was still lying on the bed of torture when he declared that his confessions were the fault of his tortures and the vengeance would recall upon their heads, and he protested yet once more against all he had confessed and might confess again. A third time the torture produced the same avowals and the relief that followed it the same retractions. The judges therefore, when they condemned him and his two disciples to the flames, decided that his confession should not be read aloud at the stake, according to custom, felt uncertain that in this occasion also he would give it the lie, and that publicly, which as anyone must see who knew the mercitile spirit of the public, would be a most dangerous proceeding. On the 23rd of May, the fire which had been promised to the people before was the second time prepared on the Piazza del Palacio, and this time the crowd assembled quite certain that they would not be disappointed of a spectacle so long anticipated. And towards eleven o'clock in the morning, Girolamo Sabonarola, Domenico Bombicini and Silvestro Marufi were led to the place of execution, degraded of their orders by the ecclesiastical judges, and bound all three to the same stake in the center of an immense pile of wood. Then the bishop, Pagnanoli, told the condemned men that he cut them off from the church. I, from the church militant, said Sabonarola, who from that very hour, thanks to his martyrdom, was entering into the church triumphant. No other words were spoken by the condemned men, for at this moment one of the Araba Diari, a personal enemy of Sabonarola, breaking through the hedge of guards around the scaffold, snatched the torch from the executioner's hand and himself set fire to the four corners of the pile. Sabonarola and his pen's disciples, from the moment when they saw the smoke arise, began to sign his own, and the flames unwrapped them on all sides with a glowing bile, and the relations of the song was yet heard mounting upward to the gates of heaven. Pope Alexander VI was thus set free from perhaps the most formidable enemy who had ever risen against them, and the pontifical vengeance pursued the victims even after their death. Sinoria, gilding to his wishes, gave orders that the ashes of the prophet and his disciples should be thrown into the Arno. But certain half-burned fragments were picked up by the very soldiers whose business it was to keep the people back from approaching the fire, and the holy relics are even now shown, blackened by the flames, to the faithful, who, if they no longer regard Sabonarola as a prophet, rebure him nonetheless as a martyr. End of section 17.