Murder in the Garden of God (13 page)

She also received jewelry: a chain of thirty gold links; an enameled gold chain with a gold pinecone pendant; and a box edged in diamonds and rubies, containing twenty pieces of jewelry of diamonds and pearls. He gave her four brooches – a gold unicorn with a body of mother-of-pearl; a gold galley studded with rubies; another, smaller ship also adorned with rubies; and a gold pin in the shape of tree branch bedecked with pearls and other jewels. Perhaps best of all, he gave her two spectacular gowns, one made of real gold thread, and the other of silver.

Though Vittoria was currently enjoying a palatial lifestyle – waited on hand and foot by servants and proudly wearing a gold chain of thirty links – her situation was precarious. She was not recognized as the duchess of Bracciano and was considered to be living in sin. If Paolo Giordano died suddenly, she would trundle home with nothing, not even the jewelry he had given her. His heirs would wrest it from her by force, if they had to, and the law would not intervene. If the duke tired of her, he could throw her out in the street where, given her scurrilous reputation as a murderess and a slut, no one would pick her up and dust her off. She must have prodded the duke to do something to remedy a situation so difficult for a woman of her refinement and sensitivity.

Paolo Giordano requested an audience with Pope Gregory, during which he boldly asked for permission to marry Vittoria. Gregory replied that under the circumstances he would never grant permission. The duke protested that even the pope had no right to unjustly prevent a marriage, and besides, Vittoria already was his wife, living with him at Magnanapoli.

For once in his life, the usually complacent Gregory flew into a blistering fury. He ordered the duke to return Vittoria to her father’s house immediately, and forbade him to see her, speak to her, write to her, or communicate with her in any way. The duke barreled out of the audience chamber without the requisite farewell courtesies. But he knew he had lost that round and sent word to Magnanapoli that Vittoria must return to Rome. Then he went to bed overcome by frustration.

Word of the marriage raced through Rome like wildfire. Camilla ranted and raved, and Cardinal Montalto felt sick at heart. Was Vittoria innocent of the murder, yet unable to withstand the duke’s tempting offer? As his wife, she could live in palaces and have all the jewels, dresses, and carriages she wanted. Beautiful girls wanted beautiful things, after all. Very few beautiful girls were born to be saints or nuns; that seemed to be reserved for the plain ones. Besides, if Vittoria were truly guilty, God would punish her.

Vittoria was back with her family, but this was not enough for the enraged pope. On May 21, Gregory sent her a decree that as of the following day she should not dare to set foot out of her father’s house, not even to hear Mass, and that she should not speak to the duke nor to any person sent by him, nor receive his letters or send any to him, under pain of imprisonment in a convent for life and severe financial penalties. The same morning another decree commanded Vittoria’s father, Claudio, and her brother, Mario, under pain of a fine of 2,000 ducats and the loss of all ecclesiastical pensions, not to permit the duke to enter their house, nor to speak or write to Vittoria.

On May 23 the duke himself received a decree that if he contacted Vittoria in any way, either personally or through intermediaries, or if he even walked past her house, he would be fined 10,000 gold ducats, and be proclaimed a traitor.

Meanwhile, Monsignor Pirro Taro had been waiting for Father Paolo to return from Spoleto. He remembered their conversation earlier in the month, when Father Paolo had asked him about performing a marriage according to the Council of Trent, but without publishing the banns. Given the subsequent uproar over Paolo Giordano’s marriage, it became immediately clear to him whom the priest had been talking about. The day after Father Paolo’s return, Monsignor Taro sent his lieutenant, Monsignor Bernardino Cotta, to the Church of San Biagio dell’Anello to haul him off to jail.

Monsignor Cotta then summoned Abbot Mario for interrogation and had him thrown in prison, too. For the next several days the two were interrogated, their testimony recorded by a scribe. Abbot Mario confirmed that Father Paolo had advised Vittoria to make the vow to marry the duke, and that based on his advice the duke had placed the ring on her finger. The terrified Father Paolo, on the other hand, denied having advised her to make the vow and said he knew nothing of any ring.

From his sick bed, Paolo Giordano raged like a madman. The pope’s son, the duke of Sora, came to console him, as did Cardinal de Medici and many other cardinals and noblemen. They pointed out to him how dangerous it would be to fall into disgrace with King Philip of Spain, Grand Duke Francesco of Tuscany, Pope Gregory, and even the extended Orsini family who honored him as their head. No one, they told him, could tolerate the ignominy of this marriage. He must give up this dangerous passion and return to an honorable and tranquil life. He must think of his children.

Paulo Giordano never thought of his children, whom he believed might not even be his, given their mother’s indiscretions. Yet outright resistance was clearly getting him nowhere. Eventually, he seemed to be moved by the arguments of his friends and agreed to give up Vittoria. As he calmed down, his health improved, and he was able to go out for carriage rides.

By June 1, Monsignor Taro had completed his investigation into the marriage of Paolo Giordano and Vittoria and went personally to visit the duke. The marriage was known, the monsignor said, and had been declared null and void because it was clandestine. Both parties were free to contract marriage, as long as it wasn’t to each other. The duke seemed resigned to this decree and left Rome for Bracciano, where he wrote a letter to the pope, thanking him for reminding him of his honor. But the sentiments were probably not sincere. The following month, when a group of audacious bandits attacked Rome, it was said that they had come from Bracciano.

Within a matter of five weeks, Vittoria had been widowed, moved back in with her family, lost her brother Scipione, secretly married the duke, eloped with him to his country estate, and finally, having had her marriage declared null and void, returned to her father’s house. The emotional agitation affected her health, too, and the illness was perhaps boosted by a heaping helping of guilt. She became so gravely ill that at one point her life was despaired of.

By July, as Vittoria was recovering, her former sister-in-law Maria suddenly became ill and died. Maria had been in her early thirties, and though the deaths of the young were not unusual given the rampant malaria and dysentery, the Roman rumor mill attributed her demise to something else entirely. The Accorambonis, it was said, had poisoned her through a Greek sorceress in the service of Paolo Giordano, a woman known to be proficient in concocting fatal brews.

The unnamed sorceress was a shadowy figure whom, most likely, Paolo Giordano had picked up after the battle of Lepanto when he stopped in various Greek ports before sailing home. She was reported to gather herbs on the shores of Lake Bracciano, which in itself was nothing strange as most people gathered wild plants for seasoning food or healing illnesses. But the Greek woman gathered them at midnight, under a full moon, which meant witchcraft was afoot.

We have no record of why people thought Maria was a likely target of Accoramboni wrath. Had she been pushing for an investigation into the murder of her brother? Had she been spreading stories about Vittoria and the duke or pointing the finger at the Accorambonis as being accomplices in the foul deed? And had the Greek sorceress stopped off at Camilla’s house one day, leaving as a gift from the Accorambonis to Maria a flask of wine or a lemon pie? Whatever the case, Camilla was almost wild with grief, having lost both her children in the space of three months, and possibly both deaths had occurred because of Vittoria’s unbridled ambition. Surely the evil woman had murdered again.

Camilla badgered her brother to seek vengeance. His “God’s will” lecture, though it had impressed many, certainly didn’t sit very well with her. But Cardinal Montalto waved her protests away. He adopted Maria’s four children, giving them the surname of Peretti, and made them and Camilla his heirs. He spent his days cultivating his vines, fruit and olive trees; raising asparagus, cabbage, and cauliflower; and shoveling manure onto the roots of fragrant blooming plants. He asked friends and family members to help him dig, prune, and harvest, and carry the buckets of precious water that his thirsty plants so desperately needed. It seemed to many that he was no longer a highly educated prince of the Church with papal aspirations, but a common gardener who loved his work.

Periodically, he took a little book out of his pocket and opened it.

Chapter 9

Beauty Behind Bars

If I am guilty
—
woe to me! Even if I am innocent, I cannot lift my
head, for I am full of shame and drowned in my affliction.

– Job 10:15

I
n September 1581, Paolo Giordano went twice to the pope’s summer villa of Mondragone outside Rome to beg for an audience. According to the
avvisi,
the pope would not grant him one. He had made his wishes quite clear about the duke and Vittoria and did not want to be importuned by any more annoying pleas.

In early October, the duke traveled with Cardinal de Medici to visit Cardinal d’Este at his fabulous villa near Tivoli. Many other cardinals, too, had been invited to enjoy the extensive gardens with their unique fountains and waterfalls. During this visit, Paolo Giordano confessed that he no longer thought about Vittoria and was glad the marriage had fallen through. He had, he admitted, been briefly bewitched, but that was now over. Such a statement made in front of so many cardinals was designed to wing its way immediately back to the pope, and Gregory must have been glad to hear it.

Soon after, the duke petitioned Gregory to nullify the decree forbidding him to speak or write to Vittoria. He had no interest in her anymore, he wrote, so the decree was unnecessary.

Moreover, it was dishonorable for an Orsini duke to have such an embarrassing edict hanging over his head, and the shame extended to the de Medicis, as they were so closely allied with him. The pope, eyeing the increasing audacity of Bracciano bandits plundering Rome, agreed to revoke the edict.

But Paolo Giordano willfully misinterpreted the pope’s favor. If the edict were revoked, he reasoned, then that part of the edict that forbade him to marry Vittoria was also revoked. Therefore, he was now legally permitted to marry her. And within days of the revocation, Vittoria was lodged once more at Magnanapoli, wearing her real gold gown and eating off her very own silver platters.

In November, it seemed as if the duke were planning a huge wedding celebration to be held in February 1582, during Carnival. He was contracting with bakers, butchers, and musicians for a magnificent multi-day banquet and ball. Alarmed at the preparations, Grand Duke Francesco begged King Philip of Spain
to do something.
In response, the king wrote Paolo Giordano that he was amazed that he, his relative and principal cavalier, would create such humiliating scandal with a shameful marriage. However, in the meantime he would assign him the taxes on the silk coming into Naples. It was a bribe, thinly veiling a threat. If he did not comply, the duke would lose his Spanish revenues.

But Grand Duke Francesco and Cardinal de Medici knew this would not be enough. They convinced the pope to issue another edict to prevent a new marriage. On December 4, 1581, Gregory decreed that Paolo Giordano would be fined 25,000 ducats if he did not immediately return Vittoria to her father, or if he had any communication with her again.

The duke, who was broke, obediently shuttled Vittoria back to her father’s house a second time. But he continued to visit her. The Accorambonis, also threatened by an enormous fine if they permitted the duke to walk through their doors, were in quite a quandary. They couldn’t exactly tell Paolo Giordano Orsini, who had so greatly honored their family, that he wasn’t welcome. But neither could they afford the fine.

One of the Accoramboni men – the
avvisi
don’t say which one – obtained a private audience with the pope. He begged Gregory to let Vittoria remarry the duke, this time legally. Things had advanced to the point, he confessed, that otherwise she would be deprived of her honor. This was a polite indication that Vittoria was no longer intact. The pope asked if the duke still met with Vittoria, and her relative said yes. Gregory dismissed him saying that he would take care of the situation.

The pope was furious that his decrees had been scorned. Obviously, he needed to do something more drastic to prevent the two of them from seeing each other and remarrying. Moreover, though he was in no position to interrogate Paolo Giordano about the murder of Francesco Peretti, there was nothing to prevent him from questioning Vittoria. The Accorambonis had no immunity from arrest as they were not noble enough.

The well-off, and certainly a pope, almost always dictated their letters to secretaries. When a contemporary source informs us that a letter was written “all in his own hand,” this significant detail indicates that the writer had great emotional investment in the message, sometimes friendship or love, but just as often anger. Now Gregory grabbed a quill and started scratching instructions to Monsignor Cotta, instructing him to arrest Vittoria for the murder of her husband. On December 9, the bailiff and his guards surrounded the Accoramboni house. Dozens of passersby stopped to gawk. Neighbors leaned out of windows to watch the show. Within minutes, the guards led a tragically pale Vittoria out of the house and into a waiting coach.

An
avvisi
reported, “Accompanied by the entire guard of Rome with a great crowd of people, the execution of the warrant was made in her own house, and not in that of Signor Paolo, but with such a concourse of din and people, that it has given much talk because of the quality of the person involved.”
¹
It was indeed rare for even a minor noblewoman to be imprisoned.

Vittoria, along with her entire family, was under grave suspicion in Francesco’s murder because of her hasty marriage to the duke. “People talked about Vittoria for having so soon consented to pass into the Orsini house, as a promise of marriage,” a
relatione
reported.
²
The desire of any widow to remarry was viewed negatively as it indicated a taint of unseemly sensuality. But remarrying while the husband’s corpse was still cooling in the grave was insulting to the dead and defied all traditions of proper behavior. In this case, it seemed as if it had been part of a plan, an agreement she had made before Francesco’s death.

The
relatione
continued, “No one believed that [Francesco’s murder] happened without the consent of the Accoramboni family, nor that her brothers weren’t involved out of ambition for such illustrious relatives… as soon as Vittoria’s bed was vacant, and above all Marcello was imputed by the note which had summoned the unfortunate one.”
³

Once she was in custody, the authorities weren’t quite sure what to do with her. They took her first to the Savelli prison, a filthy, dreadful place. Then there came an order to imprison her in the comfortable Convent of Saint Cecilia in Trastevere, a more suitable abode for a gentlewoman. But authorities apparently feared that Paolo Giordano and his thugs could easily break into the convent and rescue her. It was, after all, only defended by the Mother Superior wielding a crucifix.

Clearly, the prisoner had to be moved to a safer place. An
avvisi
of December 20 stated, “On Monday, at three hours past sunset, Signora Accorambona was led from the convent of Saint Cecilia to the Castel Sant’Angelo, they say to try her for the murder of her husband, and this was done because they were afraid someone would try to liberate her from the convent with violence.”
⁴

The Castel Sant’Angelo was an impregnable bastion that today might very well be able to withstand a nuclear blast. Overlooking the bend of the Tiber River near Saint Peter’s, the fortress was connected to the Vatican by a long stone passageway. Over the centuries, in times of attack, popes and cardinals had fled the poorly defended papal palace and raced through the passage to the citadel from which they could safely look down upon the murder of Roman citizens. The building had not originally been constructed as a stronghold but as the imperial tomb for the Emperor Hadrian’s family around 130 A.D.

The Castel Sant’Angelo got its name during the same plague which brought about the custom of saying “God bless you” when someone sneezes. One of the symptoms of the deadly epidemic of 590 A.D. was fits of sneezing ending in death. According to legend, Romans were making a pilgrimage to Saint Peter’s in sackcloth and ashes to beg God to lift the epidemic when an enormous image of the Archangel Michael appeared on top of the mausoleum and sheathed his sword. At that moment, God indeed blessed them. The plague – and the sneezing – disappeared. The Castle of the Holy Angel, it came to be called.

The structure had undergone numerous changes over the years. Towers had been built around it and luxurious frescoed papal apartments on top of it. The Vatican treasury was stored inside as the place was impossible to rob. And the worst dungeons in the world were located deep in the heart of the rock – tiny, freezing, windowless closets that had once housed imperial corpses.

Vittoria was interrogated daily about what she knew of Francesco’s death. How far had her relationship gone with Paolo Giordano before the murder? Had he made it known that he was planning to kill her husband? Hadn’t she thought it strange he promised to marry her as soon as she was a widow when her husband was young and healthy?

On December 30, an
avvisi
announced, “In the Accorambona case, they proceed every day with great rigor, the top prosecutor of Rome intervening in her interrogations, and the Signor Bernardino Cotta also, who will lead the case, and by this it can be seen that she will have to divulge everything.”
⁵

But Vittoria divulged nothing, and it was difficult for the most hardened prosecutors to proceed with great rigor for long when confronted with her sobs, sighs, and lovely face. When women had no rights and little education, those under attack could use chauvinism as a means of self-defense against the chauvinists.
I am just a woman, after all. Not terribly bright. Not nearly as smart as you men. I really don’t understand what is going on. Can’t I go home and get back to my embroidery?
Such a conversation, combined with a heaving bosom and shining tears, was often quite an effective defense.

Moreover, Vittoria declared that she was pregnant and bewailed the cruel fate that had taken away two husbands from her in such a short space of time. What would happen to her poor innocent child? Instead of formulating a criminal case against her, the prosecutors told the pope she was clearly innocent and petitioned him to release her. But Gregory kept her in Castel Sant’Angelo as the only place with walls stout enough to keep her apart from Paolo Giordano.

The duke wrote to the pope’s son, the duke of Sora, to the governor of Rome, and to various cardinals complaining that the Accoramboni family was under his protection, and therefore Vittoria should have had immunity from arrest. But the object of his affections stayed where she was. In the meantime, the frustrated duke went hunting at Bracciano with his bandits, including Marcello, and vented his rage on the hapless animals he stalked.

If Vittoria knew nothing, Gregory was still resolved to find the men responsible for the murder. Safely ensconced at Bracciano, Marcello received a notice that he should came to Rome to defend himself against the suspicion of murdering Francesco. Marcello didn’t come, and there was no possibility of sending guards to bring him to Rome. Paolo Giordano’s gang of Bracciano bandits would simply massacre the pope’s men.

But Domenico Acquaviva, known as Mancino, was living quietly in the Papal States and was easier to arrest. Everyone knew that he had handed Vittoria’s maid Caterina the note for Francesco the night of the murder. Mancino was arrested in January 1582 and taken to Rome. On February 24, he was interrogated and spilled the beans without torture.

He said that Vittoria’s mother, Tarquinia, was deeply involved in the murder, salivating to have her daughter become a duchess. Mancino added that two of those who had shot and stabbed Francesco were a certain Melchiore of Gubbio and Paolo Basca of Bracciano, “both in the service,” reported the chronicler, “of a signor whose name we will keep silent out of respect.”
⁶

As the investigation zeroed in on Paolo Giordano, Cardinal de Medici became frantic. There was talk that if the duke was found guilty, Castle Bracciano would be confiscated from the Orsinis and given to the family of Cardinal Farnese, de Medici’s hated archrival for the papacy. Cardinal de Medici informed his friend Cardinal Montalto that he urgently needed his help to drop the investigation. And Cardinal Montalto, who would need Cardinal de Medici’s support in the next conclave, agreed. The chronicler stated, “Cardinal Montalto insisted continuously that they not go further in this inquisition, and so they suppressed the business, and Mancino was released from prison.”
⁷
Nor was Tarquinia Accoramboni arrested for questioning.

The bandit problem continued to get worse. Caravans carrying Church taxes to Rome were attacked and plundered. Trade goods could barely make it into Rome because the roads were so infested with robbers. When merchants began sending their goods by ship, the bandits boarded boats and became pirates. The entire Roman economy was on the brink of ruin.

Criminals even threatened to murder cardinals. One day, fearing they would be attacked, twenty-four out of forty Roman cardinals refused to attend a cardinals’ Mass in the Chapel of the Assumption; those sixteen who dared attend had armed guards like Secret Service agents, hands on pistol holsters, constantly scanning the church for threats. All that was missing were the sunglasses and ear pieces.

When Cardinal Montalto hosted other cardinals at his villa, he often spoke about the terrible reign of the weak Pope Gregory. The country, he pointed out, was tottering towards disaster. The wise and venerable Sacred College, he said, smiling at his fellow cardinals, would have to help the next pope create an orderly society for the public benefit. The people deserved a better administration, a safer environment, and less tolerance of bandits.

The biggest bandit of all was once again having money problems. Paolo Giordano returned to Rome to sell Formello, a little area in his duchy, to the nobleman Paolo Sforza. But the duke couldn’t sell the land without the permission of Cardinal de Medici, who had loaned him 14,000 scudi with Formello as security. And the cardinal, who wanted him to feel the pinch, refused to agree to the sale. Paolo Giordano had to learn that his powerful relatives could make his life miserable if he didn’t follow their advice and dump Vittoria for good.