Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere had been the most bitter enemy of Pope Alexander for many years. But following his exile to France—after the failed and humiliating attempt to unseat the Pope and align himself with the unfortunate Charles VIII—della Rovere discovered that his contentious attitude had brought him nothing but misery. A man like himself was much more comfortable in the cramped and crowded passages of the Vatican, where he could make subtle plans for his own future and assess his position while speaking directly to both his friends and enemies. There, in an expression of a face or an inflection of a voice, he could learn more than from all the written agreements.
Once della Rovere determined that his stance against the Pope no longer served to his advantage, he was quick to attempt a reconciliation. The opportunity had come with the death of the Pope’s son Juan, when he penned a letter of condolence to Alexander. The Pope’s grief, and his resolution to reform himself as well as the Church, had moved him to accept the cardinal’s message with grace. When the Pope wrote back it was with appreciation, and an invitation for Cardinal della Rovere to act as papal delegate in France. For even in his desolation the Pope was aware of della Rovere’s importance in the court, and envisioned that he might one day have to call upon him for assistance.
When at last Cesare received the invitation to visit King Louis at Chinon, he had two important missions to accomplish: First he must bring the requested papal dispensation to the king—and then he must convince Princess Rosetta to be his wife.
Alexander called him into his chambers before he was to leave for France. After embracing his son, he handed Cesare the parchment with the red wax papal seal. “This is the dispensation for the king, annulling his marriage and permitting him to marry Queen Anne of Brittany. It is most important, for this is not only the case of a man who wishes a more beautiful wife, but rather, a delicate political matter. For if the king cannot marry Anne, she will withdraw Brittany from the control of the French, which will be a serious blow to Louis’s plan for ‘la grandeur de la France.’ ”
“Can he not just divorce Jeanne or prove grounds for annulment?” Cesare asked.
Alexander smiled. “It would seem a simple matter, but it is not. For though Jeanne of France is short and misshapen, she has true stature, and a clever mind. She has brought in witnesses who swear they heard Louis state publicly that he mounted her more than three times on their marriage night. To add to that, he claims to have been less than fourteen, beneath the age of consent, but no one can be found who will swear to the date of his birth.”
“And how will you solve this problem?” Cesare asked slyly.
“Ah,” Alexander said, sighing. “To be a Pope, and infallible, is a true blessing. I will just place his age where I feel it must be, and state any evidence to the contrary to be false.”
“Is there anything more I must carry to France to ensure my welcome?” Cesare asked.
Alexander’s voice grew serious. “The red hat of a cardinal for our friend Georges d’Amboise.”
“D’Amboise wants to be a cardinal, but he is a fine ambassador,” Cesare said.
“He wants it desperately,” the Pope said, “but only his mistress is certain of his reasons.”
The Pope embraced Cesare warmly. “I will be quite lost without you, my son. But I have seen to it that you will be treated well. For our papal legate to France, Cardinal della Rovere, will be there to meet you and protect you from any unseen danger. I have given him clear instructions to guard you with great care, and to treat you as a son.”
And so it was that in October, when Cesare arrived by sea in Marseilles accompanied by an enormous entourage, Cardinal della Rovere and his embassy were there to greet him. Cesare was dressed in black velvet and gold brocade, each garment lavishly decorated with delicate jewels and diamonds. His hat was embroidered with gold and plumed with white feathers. Even his horses had shoes of silver, for the papal treasury had been plundered to equip him.
Cardinal della Rovere embraced him and said, “My son, I am here to dedicate myself to your comfort and honor. If there is anything you desire, you may be certain I will provide it.” Della Rovere had managed to convince the Council of Avignon to raise a loan to arrange a fitting reception for the arriving dignitary.
The following day, at a fabled French castle, Cesare’s display was even more outrageous. He wore a white doublet over his velvet black, encrusted with pearls and rubies. His own horse was a dappled gray stallion, its saddle, bridle, and stirrups studded with gold. He was preceded by twenty trumpeters each in scarlet, mounted on white horse, and behind Cesare rode a troop of Swiss cavalry in crimson and gold papal uniforms. They were followed in turn by Cesare’s thirty gentlemen servants, who came before his numerous aides, pages, and other servants, all brilliantly costumed. Last came musicians, jugglers, tumblers, bears, monkeys, and seventy mules bearing the riches of his wardrobe and gifts for the king and members of his court. Such a grand and gaudy parade!
Before he left Rome, Brandao had cautioned him against such excess, telling him that the French would not be impressed by such a display. But Cesare believed he knew better.
Now della Rovere and his envoy took Cesare through the city, rich with hangings and triumphant arches decorated at great expense for his arrival. On the instructions of the cardinal, everyone treated the Pope’s son as a royal prince. He was showered with gifts of silver platters and silver plate, then taken to the Maison de la Ville to enjoy a great celebration.
Della Rovere had invited many of the most beautiful girls and elegant ladies of the city to attend, for it was well known that Cesare enjoyed their company. Several days followed filled with sumptuous banquets and elaborate theater plays, and the nights passed as they drank fine wines amid entertainment and displays of dancing before Cesare and his company.
And for two months afterward it was the same, in every city, in every town. There was not a fair that Cesare did not attend, not a horse race he didn’t bet, not a card game he was absent from.
France was cold that autumn, with bitter winds and lashing hail, yet in every municipality crowds appeared, and Cesare’s arrival attracted great attention. Humility was never one of his virtues, and now, rather than seeing the curiosity of the people for a son of the Pope, he took their attention as a sign of their adoration for him, and his head filled with his new power. He became arrogant and overconfident, alienating those Frenchmen who could truly help him.
Finally Cesare reached the court of France in Chinon, and by then the king was furious. He was anxiously awaiting news of his annulment, and had not been sent any word whether or not the Pope had granted his request.
On the day he arrived Cesare was accompanied by a grand cavalcade, and a long line of heavily laden mules carrying many luxurious adornments. Each animal was covered in rich cloths of yellow and red, bearing the Borgia bull and Cesare’s new insignia, the yellow flame. His envoy was lavishly bejeweled, and on several mules there were immense chests, which filled the citizens’ imaginings. Some said they contained precious jewels for Cesare’s future wife; some said holy shrines and relics for great blessings. Yet none of the aristocracy were impressed. In Italy this gaudy show would have told the tale of great wealth and station, but in France it inspired contempt.
The king himself had a penchant for parsimony, and the court followed his example. Before long Cesare faced laughter in the streets. Filled with a new sense of self-importance, and without either his father’s wisdom or his sister’s good sense to balance him, he remained unaware of their reactions.
At the first sight of Cesare, King Louis whispered to an advisor, “This is all too much.” But still he greeted the Pope’s son with great enthusiasm, and had to keep himself from inquiring immediately about his long-awaited dispensation from Alexander.
As Cesare, accompanied by Georges d’Amboise, passed down the formal reception line to be introduced to important members of the court, he seemed not to concern himself with their expressions of amu
sement. They could laugh if they wished, but their king must treat him well, for he held within his possession a decision that was critical to their king.
The young aristocrats foolish enough to mock Cesare were given a warning from the king so severe it surprised them. Obviously, they thought, this Borgia was someone the king cared about.
After the introductions had been made, Cesare, Louis, and the ambassador, Georges d’Amboise, retired to a delightful and intimate room in the king’s quarters. Its walls were covered in panels of yellow silk and oak. Tall French windows looked out into a beautiful garden, its delicate splashing fountain abundant with gaily colored birds whose sweet song filled the room.
King Louis began by reassuring Cesare. “You do understand, my dear friend, that French soldiers moving into Italy will in no way challenge papal rights or threaten papal territories. Moreover, if there is any difficulty in unseating the local warlords or vicars in the Romagna, I can assure you that a sizable number of experienced French troops will be readied to assist you.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Cesare said. Pleased by the king’s generosity, Cesare immediately handed Louis the formal papal dispensation.
The king could not hide his delight, and when Cesare passed the wax-sealed parchment to Georges d’Amboise and he read it, his face radiated astonished pleasure at being named a cardinal, and being accepted as a prince of the Holy Mother Church.
Louis himself was now in an expansive mood. In light of the Pope’s generosity, he would make it official: Cesare would be Duke of Valentinois. That title carried with it some of the finest castles and most profitable estates in France. Cesare was greatly relieved, for he had spent far too much on his entourage and he knew he would need to hire troops for his campaign in Romagna. The king’s gift guaranteed he would never again have to concern himself about money.
The three men toasted each other. And then Cesare asked, “How goes the marital alliance?”
Suddenly, Louis seemed uneasy. “There is some problem with the Princess Rosetta. For though she is in France, a lady-in-waiting to my beloved Queen Anne, she is not one of my subjects but the daughter of the king of Naples—of Spanish heritage—therefore a subject of the house of Aragon. And a girl with a mind of her own. I cannot simply order her to marry you.”
Cesare frowned, but then asked, “May I speak with the lady, Your Majesty?”
“Of course,” the king said. “D’Amboise will arrange it.”
Later that afternoon, Cesare and Princess Rosetta sat together on a stone bench in the garden surrounded by the fragrant smell of orange trees.
Rosetta was a tall girl, and not the prettiest that Cesare had seen, but regal in her bearing. Her dark hair, pulled back at the nape of her neck, made her look severe. But she had a pleasant and forthright approach, and was not at all reluctant to discuss their proposed match.
Rosetta smiled gently, but spoke firmly. “I do not wish to offend the duke in any manner, for until this moment, I have never even seen him. But the unfortunate truth is that I am desperately in love with a Breton nobleman, and therefore have no love left to give another.”
Cesare tried to persuade her otherwise. “Often a desperate love is not the most trustworthy match for a life together,” he said.
But Rosetta looked at him unflinchingly. “I must speak candidly, for I believe you are worthy of my trust. You are the son of the Pope, and papal views as well as papal armies are very important to my father. I believe that they are of such supreme importance that, if you insisted, my father would force me to marry you. But I beg you not to do that. I would never be able to love you, for my heart has already been given.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Cesare admired the girl, for she stood for her truth. He handed her his handkerchief. “Not for a moment would I desire to force you into marriage. If my charm cannot win you, then I will not have you as a bride.” He smiled then. “But you have true value as a friend . . . and, if I am ever to fall victim to the courts, I would ask you to present yourself as a lawyer to plead my case.”
Rosetta laughed, amused and relieved. And the princess and Cesare spent the afternoon together enjoying each other’s company.
That night Cesare reported to the king, explaining what had happened. Louis did not seem surprised by Rosetta’s response, but he was pleased by Cesare’s reaction.
“I thank you for your kindness and understanding,” the king said.
“Do we have another princess who has not yet fallen in love?” Cesare asked pleasantly.
Still embarrassed by his inability to carry forth his promise to the Pope, the king said, “I have planned to offer an additional title as duke of Dinois, and present two estates of great significance to those I have already conferred upon you.”
Cesare bowed his head in acknowledgment; then, with a glint in his eye, he asked, “I am grateful, of course—but will this gain me a wife?”
Louis was obviously distressed. “With the refusal of Princess Rosetta, and with your permission, we will begin a more extensive search immediately. We will scour the French royal houses for just the right princess.”
Cesare stood to leave. “I will extend my stay,” he said, “and visit your countryside until she is found.”
In Rome, the Pope could think of nothing but his son’s marriage. He called Cardinal Ascanio Sforza to him and asked that he return to Naples to plead again with the king.
But weeks later the cardinal returned without success, for Rosetta continued to refuse, and he had found no willing match among the other young women. And during his stay in Naples, Cardinal Sforza found more that was troubling. There was news in the south that Louis XII was planning another French invasion to claim his ancestral rights to both Milan and Naples.
“Is this true?” Ascanio Sforza asked Alexander. “And what do you mean to do about it?”
The Pope was enraged to be so questioned by Ascanio. But he was unable either to lie or tell the truth. Instead he said, “I would take action if my son, Cesare, was not hostage at the very court of France.”
“A very well-dressed, well-kept, willing hostage,” the cardinal remarked, “who carries with him the coffers of the Holy Mother Church filled with riches for his pleasure. Or to seduce a wife in order to form an alliance which will threaten Rome itself.”
Pope Alexander was outraged now, and so he thundered, “My dear cardinal, it was your brother Il Moro, if you recall, who invited the first French invasion. And it is Rome that is betrayed—for not one of the members of the house of Aragon will offer a marital alliance. They give me little choice.”
“So it is true that you have aligned with France against Aragon?” Ascanio asked, with some satisfaction.
Alexander struggled to compose himself. Then he stood up and pointed toward the door of his chambers and said, “Leave at once, for what you have spoken nears heresy. And I suggest that you pray for forgiveness for such slander, or I shall give you last rites and have you tossed into the dark waters of the Tiber on this very night.”
Cardinal Ascanio Sforza fled, but the sound of the Pope’s fiery invective and thunderous voice sent him racing down the steps so quickly that his heart in his chest was pounding. He tripped once but picked himself up, determined to leave Rome for Naples as soon as he was able.
During the months that followed, the Pope put aside all papal business. He could focus on nothing but a new alliance. He refused visiting ambassadors from Venice, Florence, Milan, and Naples—anyone who did not come to offer his son Cesare a wife.
In France, after several months, King Louis called Cesare into his chambers and happily announced, “I have brought some very good news. If you and the Holy Father agree, I have found a splendid match for you: Charlotte d’Albret, a beautiful and intelligent woman, and the sister of the king of Navarre.”
Cesare, pleased and relieved, immediately sent a message to his father asking for permission to marry and to extend his stay in France.
After celebrating High
Mass at Saint Peter’s, Alexander was deeply troubled. He had received a message from his son, and as he knelt at the altar in the basilica under the watchful eye of the Holy Madonna he tried to reason . . .
During his thirty-five years as a vice-chancellor to Popes, during his six years as Pope, and in all his years of life, Alexander had never been faced with such a terrible dilemma. His alliance with Spain had always been his strength, as a man of God and as a man of the world. He had managed to balance the foreign powers of Spain and France, and maintain support for the papacy in both countries.
But after Juan’s death his widow, Maria Enriquez, had convinced Queen Isabella, and therefore King Ferdinand, that Cesare Borgia was the true killer of his brother. As a result, there was not one family in the house of Aragon—nor in Spain, Naples, or Milan—who would allow their daughter to wed the Pope’s son.
Alexander had searched all the cities, had spoken to countless ambassadors and offered great benefices, but still he had been unable to find a suitable wife and a strong alliance for Cesare. Yet he must, or the Borgia themselves would fall.
He needed support for the papacy, and he needed the help of the armies of Naples and Spain in order to unify the lands and quell the uprisings by the greedy warlords. Even his daughter Lucrezia’s marriage to Alfonso of Naples, under the house of Aragon, secretly rested on this intention to insure the alliance of Cesare with Alfonso’s sister, Princess Rosetta.
But now she had refused, and the son he had sent to marry a Spanish princess was instead offered a French princess for a wife. Was he losing his grip on the papacy?
He folded his hands, bowed his head before the great marble statue of the Madonna, and begged for her counsel.
“As you must already know, Holy Mother, my son, Cesare, asks if he can take for a wife a daughter of France. And His Catholic Majesty, Louis the Twelfth, offers to assist him in claiming the lands owed to your church. He will send French soldiers to accompany him in battle.”