The Tigress of Forli (19 page)

After many long years, Caterina was reunited with her birth mother, Lucrezia Landriani, and her still-unmarried sisters, Stella and Bianca. Her beloved sister Chiara, recipient of several letters during Caterina's journey to Rome, had since married and left Milan. She also met with her eleven-year-old brother, Duke Gian Galeazzo, and her uncle Ludovico. Certainly Caterina made the most of these encounters, securing their support should death befall Girolamo and clarifying the policies toward neighboring states.

This idyllic time was interrupted by news of Girolamo's sudden life-threatening illness. Caterina departed for Imola immediately and by May 31 she was at Girolamo's side. Locals were touched by the solicitousness of the count's wife, who brought doctors in from Bologna, Ferrara, and Milan, but Caterina's concerns were more practical than sentimental. Ottaviano was only eight and many eyes were gazing hungrily at Imola and Forlì. Situated on an open plain, Imola was difficult to defend, and its fortress, although recently restored, still had many vulnerabilities. As Bona of Savoy had once done, Caterina anxiously prepared for an uncertain future while she sat by her husband's bedside, willing him to live although the doctors had despaired.

Girolamo slowly recovered, but he had lost the upper hand forever. Caterina saw that his lack of physical vigor and weak moral character made him unfit to rule. She installed her mother and sisters in her home in Imola and prepared to take the reins of her life and her realm.

W
HILE GIROLAMO'S CONVALESCENCE
kept him bedridden, Countess Caterina governed in his stead, honing her strategic skills as she confronted numerous new situations, both domestic and international. Her political maneuvers no longer took place in the shelter of the chancery—now she confronted her adversaries face to face.

Caterina's first solo venture upon the stormy seas of politics fell hard on the heels of her return from Milan. During the worst of Girolamo's illness, Caterina laid careful plans to secure her dominions should her husband not survive. She had renewed her alliance with Milan and successfully courted the Bentivoglio family of Bologna, but she would need to be able to protect her claims until reinforcements from those quarters arrived. Without Ravaldino, the most important fortress of Forlì, under her direct control, Caterina and her children would be easy prey for usurpers and assassins. Caterina distrusted the present castellan, Melchiorre Zaccheo, a distant relative from Girolamo's hometown of Savona. A brutish man, he regularly scandalized the citizens by spouting blasphemies. Rumors hinted that in the past he had been a pirate who had enslaved many a Christian soul and skinned alive or drowned those who defied him. Returning to Italy with money to spare, Zaccheo had materialized in Forlì just as Girolamo was most desperate for cash. In return for making loans to the count, Zaccheo demanded to be installed as commander of the fortress of Ravaldino. Girolamo dismissed the trusted Innocenzo Codronchi from the post he had held since the Riarios had returned from Rome. Now this man of dubious loyalty held the means of controlling the city.

Caterina, as countess of Forlì, made it her first order of business to clean out her castle. Using surprise tactics to catch Zaccheo off-guard, Caterina, in her eighth month of pregnancy, mounted her horse at nightfall and rode the ten miles to Ravaldino. The trip took well over the usual time because she had to negotiate a longer and more hazardous route around hostile Faenza. At the foot of the ramparts she dismounted and called to Zaccheo, requesting that he release the castle to her. The coarse sailor turned soldier rudely refused, claiming that the count had given him his commission and only the count could take it away. Prepared for this objection, Caterina brandished a letter of authorization signed by Girolamo, but Zaccheo sneered, saying that he had heard that Girolamo was already dead. That being the case, he would turn the castle over only to five-year-old Ottaviano upon payment of Girolamo's debt and added that he would vacate the fortress only when he "was good and ready." Insulted, exhausted, and lacking a clear idea of the next step to take, Caterina left.

Dawn was stretching over the golden fields of Romagna as Caterina rode back to Imola, assessing the situation at Ravaldino. Until Zaccheo was ousted from the fortress, her family would never be secure. She couldn't use force of arms; the defenses were too solid. Starving him was out of the question; the castle held enough supplies to last for years. She couldn't afford to wait out Zaccheo either. By the time she reached the Riario palace in Imola, her scattered thoughts were beginning to weave into a plan.

On August 10, Innocenzo Codronchi appeared outside the walls of Ravaldino. Plenty of bad blood ran between Codronchi and Caterina; everyone knew how the countess had expelled him from the Castel Sant'Angelo after Sixtus's death. Girolamo, however, repaid Codronchi's long-standing loyalty by bringing him to Romagna. In what amounted to a rebuke to Caterina, he had made him the castellan of Ravaldino. When Girolamo was forced to give Zaccheo that position, the count then appointed Codronchi as captain of his personal guard. No one, least of all Zaccheo, would ever imagine that Codronchi would abet the countess in her scheme to retake Ravaldino. In fact, Zaccheo and Codronchi had socialized often: playing cards, drinking wine, and reminiscing about their adventures. So when he turned up on this occasion, Zaccheo welcomed him as an old comrade at arms. Codronchi brought dice and refreshments and the two played well into the evening for these stakes: the loser would spring for a fine luncheon the next day. Codronchi lost and left Ravaldino, promising to pay his debt promptly.

The next morning, Moscardino, Codronchi's personal servant, appeared at the gates bearing fowl to cook for lunch. Zaccheo admitted him to prepare the meal, and after the birds had been plucked and roasted and all made ready, Moscardino lingered on in the castle, chatting with the other servants. Codronchi arrived at midday, showing himself to be a good sport eager to settle his obligation. As toasts and jokes enlivened the table, Moscardino positioned himself behind Zaccheo's stool. After the feast, Zaccheo rose. Before he could straighten up, Codronchi grabbed the startled castellan while Moscardino hit him on the head. Then Zaccheo's own slave, a Turkish captive whom Moscardino had bribed, stabbed his master repeatedly in the chest. Codronchi struck the final blow with Zaccheo's own scimitar, an exotic trophy from one of the sailor's raids.

They dropped the body down a well in one of the castle towers, and Codronchi, bloodstained scimitar in hand, offered to serve up Zaccheo's followers as a garnish. The terrified crew fled, leaving Codronchi to raise the drawbridge and wait for events to unfold.

On August 11, Caterina was already preparing to give birth, as her baby was due that week. But the moment her brother-in-law, Governor Domenico Ricci, brought her the news of Zaccheo's murder, she leapt on her horse and took the hard road to Forlì as fast as her unwieldy body would allow. "Pregnant up to her throat" as contemporaries described her, Caterina rode up to the moat and called to Codronchi to explain why he had killed her castle keeper. "Madam," he drawled laconically, "you shouldn't entrust your fortress to drunkards and people with no brains." He did what he did, the soldier added, "because I felt like it." His tough tone melted, however, when he looked over the ramparts and saw Caterina in her riding cloak, as wide as she was tall, physically drained from the long ride. Codronchi relented. He told the countess to get some rest and invited her to come the next day for lunch and negotiations. The canny soldier posed one condition: the countess could bring only one maidservant with her.

For all her self-assured demeanor, Caterina didn't sleep more than a couple of hours that night, worried that her tricky gambit might go wrong. But the next morning, no trace of fear or weariness marred her face as she strode toward the drawbridge with her maid. The servant carried a large basket containing the countess's lunch. She had had her maid prepare the meal, intending to make onlookers think that she was wary about poison. But she evinced no trepidation as she stepped into the castle and disappeared from view into the dark stone passageway. The two met alone, having left their personal servants outside, ostensibly to negotiate the handing over of the castle. The few people remaining inside were allowed only a glimpse of the pair signing a document. The townspeople gathered around the castle, some curious, some anxious, some thrilled by the drama enlivening the lazy days of August. After a few hours, the countess emerged, mounted her horse, and returned to Imola.

The crowd observing these enigmatic comings and goings had no idea what had transpired until three days later when Caterina returned, bringing a new castellan, Tommaso Feo. The countess and her companion entered the castle and a short while later, Caterina came out with Codronchi while Feo remained behind. The countess and Codronchi rode in silence into Forlì, followed by the puzzled Forlivesi. Reaching the threshold of the Riario palace, Caterina turned and addressed her subjects with her customary directness and brevity. "The fortress was lost to me and to you while in the hands of Zaccheo," she called out to the cheering crowd, "but I have regained it and I have left a castle keeper of my own choosing!" Having reasserted her control over the city, she disappeared into the house, with Codronchi in tow. After dinner, he left the city. This was the last appearance of Girolamo's faithful soldier. After his departure from Forlì, Codronchi was never heard from again.

The following morning, Caterina returned to Imola to bring the good news to Girolamo, leaving the Forlivesi to speculate about the real story behind the murder of Zaccheo and the meetings between Codronchi and Caterina. Most suspected that the pair had staged an elaborate scene to murder the problematic sailor while safeguarding the count's reputation for clemency. Wisely, Caterina left friends, family, and subjects in the dark. The sensational story made its way to Rome, however, where Stefano Infessura, the Roman diarist with an ear for scandal, automatically assumed that Caterina herself had given the order for the murder. In this case he was probably right. Girolamo still suffered from illness and, without the papal army behind him, was indecisive even in his most lucid moments. Caterina, on the other hand, had already shown her instinctive drive to control the fortress at any cost.

 

L
EONE COBELLI, CATERINA'S
self-styled biographer, went digging for inside information on the mysterious affair of Caterina, Codronchi, and the castellan. Part journalist and part stalker, Cobelli drew the story of Zaccheo's murder from the eyewitness Moscardino, probably over a few drinks in the piazza, and then penetrated Caterina's servants' quarters to glean the intimate details of how she slept and ate during her first difficult assignment. He would always be more intrigued than scandalized by Caterina's exploits. By contrast, Niccolò Machiavelli did not take such an approving view of Caterina's capacity for action. In
The Prince,
his handbook of leadership, Machiavelli lauded Cesare Borgia for a similar ruse, praising his deeds as "notable and worthy of imitation."
¹
Though Caterina embodied Machiavelli's idea of
virtù,
the boldness and cunning necessary for a Renaissance ruler, the Florentine was repelled by the idea that a woman could possess those qualities. Despite the fine education and the power that regencies vested in them, women in Renaissance Italy were held to very different standards of behavior than men were. Women were trained to compose sweet verses of love, recite pious prayers, and rely on the counsel of their male guardians. Creative thinking and intellectual strategizing were the province of men. And during the Renaissance, when chaste modesty was the most prized of female virtues, Caterina, who engaged her adversaries face to face, flouted the strictest social custom of all.
²

On August 17, the day after the Codronchi incident, Caterina's sixth child was born. Caterina named the boy Francesco after her illustrious grandfather, the first Sforza duke of Milan and the subject of Leonardo da Vinci's commanding equestrian monument, which she had seen when it was being created in Milan. The child was nicknamed "Sforzino." To serve as godfather to this child, Caterina's uncle, Ludovico the Moor, sent one of the duke's ambassadors. This public display of Caterina's close connection to the mighty state of Milan brought her one step closer to ruling her cities and her life independently.

Caterina also had to learn to walk the tightrope of international relations. As de facto ruler of Forlì, Caterina now staged epistolary showdowns with opponents who were trained to spot any sign of weakness. Her first battle was with a seasoned veteran, Duke Ercole of Ferrara. Ever since the Battle of Campo Morto, relations between Ferrara and Forlì had been precarious. With Girolamo incapacitated, Caterina's new responsibilities included keeping an eye on her restive neighbor. Caterina's correspondence with the duchess of Ferrara, Eleanora, invariably expressed warmth and friendship between reports on Maestro Tommaso and his fashions, exchanges about hunting animals, and letters of recommendation. Her correspondence with Duke Ercole, however, took quite a different tone. Ercole had been a successful
condottiere
in his youth, fighting loyally in the service of both his brothers. Despite a persistent limp from a wound to the foot sustained in battle, he was a virile and handsome man prone to seeing women as playthings rather than peers. He had enjoyed exchanging lewd jokes and ribald stories with Caterina's father, but his treatment of the countess often bordered on boorish. Their first clash took place over a few trinkets—a gold chain and some other baubles—that Caterina had sent to her cousin in Milan. The items were stopped at customs in Modena, Este territory, and appropriated by local officials. Caterina had first attempted to recoup them through her friendship with Eleanora but to no avail. Eventually Caterina had no choice but to call on Girolamo to write to the duke directly. During the duke's subsequent sojourn with Count and Countess Riario at their palace in Imola, relations continued to deteriorate. Upon his return home, Duke Ercole complained that several of his belongings had "gone missing" during his stay. Ercole chose a moment certain to goad the countess. Girolamo was hovering between life and death, and Caterina was consumed by worry.