The Borgias - Chapter 4

The summer of 1497 in Rome was oppressive, the air thick with the scent of sunbaked stone and overripe fruit. In the Vatican, Pope Alexander VI paced the ornate floors of the Borgia Apartments, his son Cesare standing before him, no longer in cardinal's scarlet but in the rich velvet of a nobleman.

"Father," Cesare implored, "the time has come. Let me be the sword of the Borgias, the military might that will secure our legacy."

Alexander, gazing out over the sprawling cityscape of Rome, nodded heavily. "So be it," he said. "You shall have your wish, Cesare. But remember, the eyes of all Christendom will be upon you."

Cesare wasted no time. Shedding his ecclesiastical robes for gleaming armor, he set out for France. King Louis XII, who had succeeded Charles VIII, was eager to renew French ambitions in Italy. At the Château de Blois, amidst the sweet scent of Loire Valley wines and heavy perfumes of the French nobility, Cesare began complex negotiations that would reshape the political landscape of Europe.

Louis XII desired papal support for his planned invasion of Milan and for the annulment of his marriage to Jeanne of France. In return, he offered Cesare a French title and a bride from the French nobility. The negotiations were delicate, with Cesare skillfully balancing the interests of the papacy, his own ambitions, and French royal desires.

After months of diplomatic maneuvering, a deal was struck. Cesare would receive the title of Duke of Valentinois and the hand of Charlotte d'Albret, sister of the King of Navarre, in marriage. In exchange, Pope Alexander VI would support Louis's claim to Milan and grant the annulment of his marriage to Jeanne.

The marriage took place in May 1499, a spectacle of Renaissance splendor. Cesare, now the Duke of Valentinois, cut a dashing figure in gold-embroidered velvet, while Charlotte shone in a gown of silver tissue adorned with precious gems. As they danced beneath frescoed ceilings, Louis XII promised military support for Cesare's campaigns in return for papal backing of his claim to Milan.

This alliance was a masterpiece of Borgia diplomacy. It provided Cesare with the military backing he needed for his Italian campaigns while giving Alexander leverage over French ambitions in Italy. The pope could now play a delicate balancing act, using French power to expand Borgia influence while ensuring that France did not become too dominant in Italian affairs.

Back in Rome, Lucrezia Borgia found herself once again at the center of her father's political machinations. Her marriage to Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro, had become a liability. The Sforza family, once valuable allies, were now obstacles to the Borgias' ambitions and their new French alliance.

In December 1497, Alexander had set in motion the process of annulling Lucrezia's marriage. The grounds were non-consummation due to Giovanni's alleged impotence, a claim that Giovanni vehemently denied. The ensuing scandal rocked Rome, its citizens alternately fascinated and appalled by the Borgia family drama.

Giovanni, furious at the slight to his manhood and fearful for his life, fled Rome in the dead of night. From the safety of Pesaro, he lobbed explosive accusations at the Borgia family, including insinuations of impropriety between Lucrezia, her father, and her brother Cesare.

The pope, determined to see the annulment through, convened a special commission of bishops and cardinals. In a humiliating ordeal, Lucrezia was subjected to an examination to prove her virginity, while Giovanni was summoned to Rome to prove his virility – an invitation he wisely declined.

As autumn painted the Roman hills in shades of gold and crimson, the annulment was finally granted. Alexander wasted no time in arranging a new, more advantageous match for his daughter. In July 1498, Lucrezia was married to Alfonso of Aragon, the seventeen-year-old Duke of Bisceglie, and Prince of Salerno. This marriage aligned the Borgias with the Aragonese dynasty of Naples, a crucial alliance in the complex web of Italian politics.

Meanwhile, Cesare returned to Italy at the head of a French army. The Romagna, a patchwork of small states nominally under papal control, became the focus of his campaigns. City after city fell to his forces, either through military might or shrewd negotiation.

One of the most significant conquests was Rimini, ruled by the Malatesta family. The Malatestas had controlled Rimini for centuries, transforming it into a center of Renaissance culture. However, under Pandolfaccio Malatesta, their rule had grown weak and unpopular. Cesare's arrival was seen by many as a liberation.

In the great hall of the Castel Sismondo, its walls adorned with frescoes celebrating the Malatesta family's illustrious past, Cesare now sat in triumph. Pandolfaccio Malatesta knelt before him, offering the keys to the city. It was a powerful symbol of the changing order in Italy, as the old feudal rulers gave way to the new power of the Borgias.

Alexander watched his son's progress with a mixture of pride and apprehension. Cesare's successes were undeniable, but the pope feared the consequences of unleashing such ambition. The courts of Europe looked on with growing alarm as the Borgia domain expanded.

Yet as winter descended on Rome, bringing with it cold winds and long nights, tragedy struck. On a moonless night in July 1500, Alfonso of Aragon was attacked on the steps of St. Peter's Basilica, brutally stabbed by unknown assailants. Though he survived the initial assault, whispers of poison and intrigue filled the Vatican corridors.

For weeks, Lucrezia tended to her wounded husband, sequestered in the Torre Borgia. Rome held its breath, wondering who was behind the attack. Was it a rival family seeking revenge, or something closer to home?

Then, on the night of August 18, as a summer storm raged over the city, screams echoed through the papal apartments. Servants rushed to Alfonso's chamber to find him strangled in his bed, his body still warm. Lucrezia, distraught and in shock, could offer no explanation.

As dawn broke over the Eternal City, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, the news spread like wildfire. Lucrezia's second marriage had ended in shocking tragedy, and suspicion fell heavily on the Borgia family itself.

In the Borgia Apartments, Alexander VI knelt in his private chapel, the weight of power and the fear of divine judgment heavy on his shoulders. Outside, in the streets of Rome, citizens whispered of murder and conspiracy. The name Borgia was spoken with a mixture of awe and terror.

What dark forces were at play within the papal court? And how would this tragedy reshape the destiny of the Borgia family and the future of Italy itself?

[To be continued in next week's installment...]