To add to the impossibility of the situation, he was a superb and accomplished statesman, who had managed to keep the papacy from claiming any portion of his territory. For many years he had refused to pay his tithes to the church, agreeing only to send the traditional gift of one white horse to Rome for the papal army.
It was in his role as the statesman rather than the cruel warrior that King Ferrante considered the alliance with the Pope. But to make certain there were no surprises, and to insure that he would have the help he needed in his conquest, he dispatched another letter to his cousin, King Ferdinand of Spain. “If the Pope offers nothing to my satisfaction,” he announced, “and refuses to assist us, we will ready our troops, and on the way to Milan we will also take Rome.”
King Ferdinand of Spain, aware of the tension between Rome, Milan, and Naples, knew he must intervene. He needed the help of this Pope to keep peace, which was for him always better than war. If everything went well, he would also inform Alexander of a significant deception that had come to his attention by way of his cousin Ferrante.
Ferdinand was a tall, imperious man who took his position as monarch of Spain quite seriously. He was a Christian king, with no uncertainty about his God, and bowed to the infallibility of the Pope without question. But his belief did not rise to the level of evangelistic fervor that his wife, Queen Isabella’s, did; he had no need to prosecute those who didn’t believe. In essence he was a reasonable man, and held to doctrine only inasmuch as it served the Aragonese empire. He and Alexander respected each other, thought each other worthy of trust—as much as any mortal man could be trusted.
King Ferdinand, dressed in a simple cloak of dark blue satin with fur trim, looked elegant as he sat across from the Pope in the huge sitting room. He sipped his wine. “In a gesture of goodwill,” he said, “King Ferrante has asked me to inform you of a circumstance he has recently been made aware of which may be of help to you, Your Holiness. As he is certain the church is an ally—not only to Spain but to Naples as well.”
Alexander smiled, but his eyes were filled with wariness as he said, “Heaven always rewards its faithful.”
Ferdinand spoke softly. “Shortly after the conclave, Ferrante’s commander general, Virginio Orsini, met with Cardinal Cibo to execute the purchase of three castles Cibo inherited from his father, Pope Innocent.”
Pope Alexander now frowned but sat silent for several moments before speaking. “This transaction took place without my knowledge? Without the authority of the Holy See? This treachery committed by a prince of the Holy Catholic Church?”
In truth, Alexander was more puzzled at the betrayal by Orsini than by Cardinal Cibo; for Commander Orsini was not only Adriana’s brother-in-law; the Pope had always considered him a friend. And even in the most wicked times, there are some men who inspire confidence. Virginio Orsini was one of those men.
That evening over dinner, King Ferdinand supplied the missing piece. “The agreement for the purchase of the castles took place in Ostia, at the Palace of Giuliano della Rovere.”
Ah, now Alexander understood. It was della Rovere who stood behind this unholy deed! Whoever owned those castles—all impregnable fortresses north of Rome—held the safety of Rome in his hands.
“This is a difficulty that must be overcome,” Alexander said.
King Ferdinand agreed. “I will travel to Naples to speak to Ferrante on your behalf, to see what can be done.”
The king kissed the Pope’s ring before he left, assuring Alexander that he would use all his influence to resolve the matter. Then, almost as an afterthought, Ferdinand said, “There is one more problem, Your Holiness. The New World is in dispute. Both Portugal and Spain claim the new territories. Your mediation would be greatly appreciated by the queen and myself, for the necessity of divine guidance is apparent in this situation.”
King Ferdinand of Spain traveled to Naples and spoke to his cousin, Ferrante. Almost immediately upon his arrival dispatches began to be sent back and forth between Rome and Naples. Messengers rode day and night. Finally, King Ferrante graciously assured the Pope that no injury to Alexander’s person had been intended by Virginio Orsini; rather, the castles in question could be held to keep Rome safe. They were just outside the city and therefore could act as protection in the event of a French invasion.
And so it was agreed that Virginio Orsini could keep his castles, but he would be required to pay a tax or tithe of forty thousand ducats each year to the Vatican as proof of his sincerity and loyalty to Pope Alexander.
Now the question was asked, what was the Pope willing to offer in return for the support of both King Ferdinand and King Ferrante?
King Ferrante wanted Cesare Borgia as a husband for his sixteen-year-old granddaughter, Sancia.
Alexander refused, reminding Ferrante that his oldest son had a calling to holy office. Instead he offered his youngest son, Jofre.
Ferrante refused. For who would want the younger rather than the older son?
Though most previous Popes had feared denying Ferrante anything he asked for, Pope Alexander was intractable. He had plans for Cesare, and would not trade his gold for common metal.
Ferrante had heard much about Alexander’s skill and cunning in negotiations, and now he was completely vexed. He knew that if he let this opportunity for an alliance pass, Alexander would quickly forge another that would put Naples at risk. After much deliberation and little hope of victory any other way, Ferrante grudgingly accepted. He only hoped that twelve-year-old Jofre would be able to bed his sixteen-year-old Sancia, and legitimize the contract before Alexander found a better match.
But five months after the proxy marriage, King Ferrante, the most fearsome man in Naples, died. And his son Masino, not nearly as clever or as cruel as his father, was left at the mercy of Pope Alexander. Because Naples was a papal territory and the Pope their suzerain or feudal lord, the crown could only be bestowed by him, and displeasing him might force him to choose another.
At this time it happened that Alexander too was compromised. Young King Charles VIII of France, who proclaimed Naples as his own, also wanted the crown. He sent an embassy to warn Alexander, to threaten to divest him of his power and name another Pope if he favored Masino, Ferrante’s heir. But the Pope knew that French control of Naples would be fatal to the independence of the Papal States.
To add to the Pope’s distress, a spiraling unrest began to grow among the Spanish-haters and traditional enemies of the papacy, which he knew could lead to the breakup of the fragile peace that existed throughout Italy since he took office.
Then he received the news which helped him decide.
Duarte Brandao returned to the Pope’s chambers to tell him, “There are rumors of a new French invasion. King Charles is fervent and enthusiastic, and quite determined to be the greatest Christian monarch of his time. He plans to lead another Crusade to conquer Jerusalem.”
Alexander understood. “So this young king must first conquer Naples, for it borders on the lands of the Infidel. And he must ride through the Papal States on his way to Naples.”
Duarte nodded. “Charles has also made clear his wish to reform the papacy, and there is only one way that can be accomplished, Your Worthiness.”
The Pope pondered what Duarte said. “He must depose me in order to do what he wishes . . . ”
Now, Pope Alexander was determined not to alienate Ferrante’s son, Masino, for he needed the military force of Naples to come north to Rome in order to stave off any attack by King Charles.
Soon Alexander began to form another plan: In order to protect his position in the Vatican, and Rome itself, from foreign invasion, the Pope grew certain he must unify the city-states of Italy. It was then he conceived the concept of a Holy League. His plan was to unify and lead several of the larger city-states—that would allow them more power together than each could have alone.
But the moment he presented his plan to the rulers of these city-states, there were difficulties. Venice, as alway
s, remained neutral; Milan was already on the side of the French; and Florence had a weak military—as well as the prophet called Savonarola, who had enough influence to discourage the Medici from joining.
Alexander, having met with strong resistance, concluded he must quickly crown Masino—or another man would soon wear the Holy Tiara.
Four days after Masino was crowned king of Naples, Jofre Borgia married Masino’s daughter, Sancia.
At the altar of the chapel of Castel Nuovo, twelve-year-old Jofre tried to appear older than he was as he stood near his sixteen-year-old bride. Though he was taller than she and handsome enough, with his thick dark blond hair and light eyes, he had no wit or charm. Sancia, a beautiful and spirited girl, was annoyed at her father’s choice. She refused to be fitted for any new finery for her wedding, and during the ceremony she stared impatiently at the guests in the crowded chapel. When the bishop asked Jofre, “Will you take this woman—” he was unable to finish his sentence before the enthusiastic Jofre interrupted, breathlessly, “I will . . . ”
The guests laughed aloud. Sancia was humiliated, and her response to her vows was barely audible. What was she doing with this silly child?
At the reception, however, once she saw the many golden coins and jewels he had brought and offered, Sancia’s expression softened. And as he allowed her bridesmaids to choose more gold coins from his pockets, the dark-haired Sancia smiled at him.
That evening in the bridal chamber, with King Masino and two other witnesses, Jofre Borgia climbed atop his new bride and rode her as he would a new pony. She lay there stubbornly, stiff as a corpse. Again and again—four times—he mounted her, until the king himself called a halt, and agreed the marriage contract was valid.
Now Alexander called for Cesare and Juan to join him in the Hall of Faith, where according to the agreement he had made with King Ferdinand concerning Naples he had promised to meet the ambassadors of Spain and Portugal to mediate a dispute over new lands.
As Cesare and Juan entered the ornate room, their father looked regal, wearing the papal miter and his richly embroidered red and gold cape. He told his sons, “This may be an exercise in diplomacy from which you can learn, for each of you will take part in many negotiations in the positions that you hold for the church.”
What he didn’t say was that King Ferdinand’s plea for papal arbitration was not an empty gesture but reflected the papal influence in both the religion and politics in the new Age of Discovery. Now, it would gain the Pope the support of Spain, which he would sorely need in the event King Charles of France chose to invade the Italian territories.
Alexander looked up when the ambassadors entered the room. He greeted them warmly and said, “We think you know our sons, Cardinal Borgia and the duke of Gandia?”
“Yes, Holy Father, we do,” replied the Spaniard, a portly Castilian grandee in a black, heavily brocaded tunic. He nodded to Cesare, and then to Juan, as did the elderly Portuguese emissary.
Alexander had spread a map out on the large inlaid table. He and the two ambassadors were pointing to various locations. “My sons, we have solved a problem that has been causing great concern between the nations of these two worthies.”
The two men nodded again and Alexander continued, “Both these great nations have sent brave explorers to the farthest reaches of the unknown seas. Both have laid claims to the riches of the New World. Our holy church, through Calixtus the Third, had decreed that the kingdom of Portugal was entitled to all non-Christian lands on the coast of the Atlantic. Therefore, Portugal claims this entitles their country to the entire New World. Spain, on the other hand, insists that Calixtus meant only those lands on the eastern coast of the great ocean, not the newly discovered lands in the west.
“In order to avoid conflict between these great peoples, King Ferdinand has asked that we arbitrate their differences. And both nations, hoping for divine guidance, have agreed to accept our decision. Is that so?”
The two emissaries nodded.
“Well then,” Alexander continued, “we have considered the matter carefully and spent long hours on our knees in prayer. And we have come to a decision. We must divide the New World along this longitudinal line.”
He pointed to a line on the map which was one hundred leagues west of the Azores and Cape Verde Islands. “All non-Christian lands east of this line, which include many valuable islands, will belong to the Portuguese kingdom. Henceforth the peoples there will speak Portuguese. All such lands to the west of the line will belong to Their Catholic Majesties Ferdinand and Isabella.”
Alexander looked at the ambassadors. “We have already issued our bull, Inter Caetera, issuing out our ruling on the matter. Plandini, the Vatican clerk, will give you each a copy as you depart. I hope this is satisfactory and that many souls will be saved rather than sacrificed because of our agreement.” He smiled his brilliant charismatic smile, and both men bent to kiss his ring as he gave them leave to withdraw.
When they had gone, Alexander turned to Cesare. “What did you think of my decision?”
“I think, Father, that the Portuguese are at a disadvantage, for they have received far less of the territory.”
Alexander’s face lit up with a wolfish grin. “Well, son, it was King Ferdinand of Spain who asked us to intervene, and at the heart of our family we are Spanish. We must also consider that Spain is probably the most powerful country in the world today. With the king of France considering an invasion and planning to move his troops across the Alps on the advice of our enemy Cardinal della Rovere, we may need Spanish help. The Portuguese, on the other hand, tend to produce hardy seafarers, but not much of an army.”
Before Cesare and Juan left the Pope, he placed his hand on Juan’s shoulder and said, “My son, due to our successful mediation, your promised betrothal to Maria Enriquez has been moved forward. Again, I say, prepare yourself. Do not offend our friend King Ferdinand, for it has taken much diplomacy to ensure our alliances. We thank God each day for the good fortune of our family, the opportunities to spread the word of Christ across the globe in order to strengthen the papacy for the bodies and souls of the faithful.”
Within a week, accompanied by a caravan of vast riches, Juan was en route to Spain, and a rendezvous with the Enriquez family in Barcelona.
In Rome, the Pope felt weary from the weight of the world; both heaven and earth seemed to rest on his shoulders. Yet, one small pleasure could revive him . . .
That night Alexander readied himself to appear in his finest silk sleeping costume, for his young mistress, Julia Farnese, had been invited to spend the night in his bed. As his manservant bathed him and washed his hair with perfumed soap, he found himself smiling at the thought of her sweet face gazing at him with admiration and, he believed, genuine fondness.
Though it puzzled him how a young woman of such beauty and charm could find herself enchanted by a man whose prime had passed, he accepted it as he had many of the other puzzlements in his life. Certainly, he was wise enough to know that his power and his favors could inspire a certain devotion. And her relationship with him as the Holy Father could improve the condition and the wealth of her entire family and therefore increase her own status. But there was more, and in his heart he knew it. For when Julia and he made love, it was a priceless gift. Her innocence was captivating; her need to learn and please and her curiosity for all manner of sensual exploration gave her special appeal.
Alexander had been with many beautiful courtesans who had far more experience, who knew how to please a man using pure craft. But Julia’s uninhibited response to sensual pleasure was that of a joyful child, and somehow, though he could not describe it as the most passionate relationship he’d had, it brought him immense satisfaction.
Now Julia, wearing a gown of purple velvet, was led into his bedchamber. Her golden hair fell loosely down her back, and on her neck she wore a simple necklace of small pearls that he had given her the first time they made love.
As he sat on the side of his
large bed, Julia began to unlace her gown. Without a word, she turned her back and asked, “My dear Holiness, please lift my hair?”
Alexander stood, his huge body close behind her, filling his senses with the lavender scent of her hair. He held her blond curls in his large hands, the ones that held the fate of the souls of so many, as she stepped out of her gown and it dropped to the floor.
When she turned to raise her face to accept his kiss, he had to bend to reach her lips. She was not even as tall as Lucrezia, and more delicate of form. She put her arms around his neck, and when he stood, he lifted her off the floor.
“My sweet Julia, I’ve been waiting for so many hours for your arrival. To hold you in my arms will bring me as much pleasure as serving Mass—though it would be a sacrilege for me to admit that truth aloud to anyone but you, my sweet.”
Julia smiled at him and lay down next to him between the satin sheets. “I received a message from Orso today,” she said, “and he wishes to come back to Rome to visit for a time.”
Alexander tried not to show his displeasure, for it was much too beautiful a night. “It is unfortunate, but I believe your young husband’s presence in Bassanello is important for a short time more. I may need to call upon him to lead one of my military troops.”
Julia knew the Pope was jealous, for his every expression shone in his eyes. To reassure him, she leaned over and placed her lips upon his, kissing him hard. She had the sweet cool lips of someone young and inexperienced, but he was careful to treat her quite gently for above all things he didn’t want to frighten her. They had made love several times before, but he had put his own pleasure aside to be sure he was aware when she reached hers. He didn’t want to lose himself completely and have his passion drive him into her too hard, for she would stiffen then and all pleasure would elude them.