The Tigress of Forli (2 page)

Day and night, the ruler of Forlì patrolled the fortress ramparts, eyes alert for weak spots or changes in the invading enemy's formation. The defending soldiers leapt at every order, unquestioningly loyal to a commander every bit as determined as Cesare. No wonder he was offering an extravagant reward to whoever could capture or kill the indefatigable general, Caterina Riario Sforza de' Medici, the countess of Forlì. Five thousand ducats was a tempting sum. To many, no doubt, it was an amount worth murdering for. Yet no soldiers at Forlì had taken the bait, driven as they were not only by loyalty to their commander but by an ingrained sense of chivalry.

In the preceding days, the attacking soldiers had caught occasional glimpses of Caterina on the ramparts of her fortress. At five feet, four inches, she was noticeably shorter than the men fighting by her side, though she stood at a respectable height for Italian women of her day. Her figure, beneath a steel cuirass engraved with the image of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, was remarkably slim, despite the fact that she had borne six children. When her long, light brown hair occasionally escaped its restraints and flowed around her face and neck, she looked even younger than her thirty-eight years. As she walked with sure, determined steps around her fortress, her enemies strained to see the woman who had challenged the College of Cardinals, single-handedly put down a revolt after the murder of her husband, seduced and married the handsomest member of the Medici clan, and was now locking horns with the formidable Cesare Borgia.

The bleakness of Caterina's Christmas morning was relieved only by the knowledge that her children were safely ensconced with their Medici relatives in Florence. She knew that while she defended their birthright, their day would begin with worship in that city's beautiful churches; perhaps their anxious spirits would be lifted for a while by the glorious music of the choirs. Later they would feast in grand halls by blazing fires, while their mother shared a frugal meal in the guardhouse with the cadre of faithful followers who remained in Ravaldino.

There, Christmas morning had begun with the traditional Mass at dawn. After leaving the chill of the stone fortress chapel, the countess set about ensuring double rations for her men, listening to their personal stories, writing letters of commendation for bravery, and otherwise alleviating the dismal mood. For a time, silence in the enemy camp suggested that those soldiers too might be observing this holiest of days, but soon a barrage of cannon fire shattered the calm.

Cesare's father, Pope Alexander VI, had made great plans for the Jubilee Year. The construction of new buildings and the offering of special prayers were intended to draw the whole Christian world to Rome to make a fresh start. Caterina had been planning to go to Rome as well, for she too had reasons to seek forgiveness. For five years she had waited, with much on her conscience, knowing that the jubilee offered a singular opportunity to erase terrible spiritual scars. Now the pope's own son had become the greatest obstacle in Caterina's path. She could give up her lands and her children's inheritance, allow Cesare to become the prince of Romagna, and move in with her Medici relatives. That would secure her life and her freedom. Or she could defend town and title, risking death or imprisonment. Although many other rulers of Romagna had ceded their towns and taken the paltry papal compensation for their noble titles and their lands, Caterina had no intention of stepping aside quietly so that Cesare's father could award him her state as a twenty-fifth-birthday gift. He would have to win it from her the same way her family had won their lands—with blood and steel.

Now the usurping army was quartered in her town, looting her palace and the homes of her followers. The townspeople who had given up the town to the invaders, preferring to place their fate at the mercy of the Borgias rather than join the seemingly hopeless cause of the Riarios, had received little clemency. The soldiers sacked their homes and raided the convents, looking for young women of Forlì to provide them with "entertainment." On Christmas Day, the occupiers were drinking wine stolen from the cellars of the Forlivesi and wearing the warm wool clothing belonging to their "hosts," while even the elderly and sick were left to shiver in the winter cold. Caterina, who knew from experience that the weakest were always the first victims of war, had begged her people to stand with her. Now she stood helplessly above the town, watching its devastation.

Caterina's mind revolted at the thought of Cesare and his entourage devouring her people's food and celebrating the capture of her lands. No stranger to the daring bluff, she formed a plan. Perhaps she could not rid Forlì of Cesare for Christmas, but she could render his holiday as unpleasant as hers. She ordered her men to find the flag of the powerful Republic of Venice and to raise the Venetian lion high above the ramparts of Ravaldino. Venice was the wild card in the politics of Renaissance Italy. A fierce defender of its lands, with an extensive fleet and skilled sailors at its disposal, the Most Serene Republic had many known political bedfellows. What worried every state on the peninsula was the unknown number of its secret allies. Had Caterina put her state under the protection of Venice? Was the Venetian army already marching toward Forlì?

Caterina didn't have to wait long to see her plan bear fruit: the mere sight of the golden lion of Venice galvanized the enemy. From the ramparts Caterina could see the soldiers on watch running to the palace where Cesare and his cousin were lodged. Cesare, upon seeing the scarlet and gold standard, called an emergency council to evaluate the possibility of a hitherto unknown alliance between Venice and Forlì, which could extend the Venetian sphere of influence farther inland from the Adriatic and closer to the border of the Florentine Republic. Cesare knew that Caterina had previously sought assistance from Florence and been refused. Had she avenged the rebuff by offering Venice a gateway into Tuscan lands?

Riders left the city at a gallop to seek confirmation of the disturbing news, while scouts were placed on vigil to look for approaching troops. Festivities were interrupted as soldiers reorganized the camp for a potential attack from outside Forlì. There was no more time to raid homes and abduct women as the men nervously prepared for battle.

Caterina knew it would take just a few short hours to verify that no Venetian army was en route to Forlì, but she returned to her room in the keep, content in the knowledge that she had secured a little Christmas peace for the people of Forlì. Once again she had acted with ingenuity and boldness, qualities that made her an object of fascination throughout Italy. Admirers saw her as an inspired warrior along the lines of Joan of Arc, whereas malicious tongues compared her to the lascivious manipulator Cleopatra; all the people, whatever their opinion of her, wondered where such an extraordinary woman had come from. The outrageous gambles, astute strategies, and iron determination of Caterina Riario Sforza de' Medici had drawn Europe's attention to the siege of Forlì.

C
ATERINA WAS BORN
in Milan in 1463, the illegitimate daughter of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, heir to the Duchy of Milan, and the beautiful Lucrezia Landriani, who, for Galeazzo's convenience, had been married off to a compliant palace courtier. In almost any other realm in Europe, illegitimacy was a stigma that effectively prevented a person from attaining a respectable social standing, but in Italy, bastard children were the norm—especially in the ruling house of Milan. Custom held that natural children would be raised in the house of the father, side by side with the rightful heirs, and thus Caterina grew up in the ducal household. She carried her Sforza surname with such pride that even after three marriages she would still retain it.

The Sforza family had risen from peasantry to nobility by sword and skirmish. Muzio Attendolo, the founder of the Sforza line and Caterina's great-grandfather, had run away from his family farm in the 1390s to fight as a mercenary soldier, a
condottiere.
Fourteenth-century Italy was a mosaic of separate principalities characterized by complex military alliances and shifting borders. From the kingdom of Sicily to the free Republic of Venice, young warriors looking for fame and fortune were well accommodated with battles to fight. Muzio Attendolo's courageous exploits on the battlefield had earned him the nickname "Sforza," meaning "strength." After fighting for the papacy, the Republic of Florence, and the kingdom of Naples, he settled into regular service with the duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti. The Viscontis, who had been vested with the dukedom of Milan in 1395 by the Holy Roman Emperor Wenceslaus, had turned Milan into a wealthy state and one of the most politically significant territories in Italy. Muzio's illegitimate son Francesco carried on the new family name, Sforza, and its mercenary enterprise, earning increasing fame through his valor in Italy's ceaseless wars and military disputes. Francesco Sforza married the illegitimate daughter of Filippo Maria Visconti, Bianca Maria, and when Duke Filippo died without a male heir in 1447, Sforza was poised to claim the duchy.

Francesco's plan was foiled by the Milanese nobility, who on the day of Filippo's death declared the city a republic, destroyed the Visconti castle of Porta Giovia, and occupied all the public buildings. The newly formed republic soon faced formidable enemies including Venice, which exploited the weakened city by plucking away its territories. The embattled republic had no choice but to hire the Sforza army to repel these foreign foes, and in a swift campaign, Francesco recaptured the subject cities. In 1448, Francesco signed a treaty with Venice and then turned to retake his own city. After a couple of months of siege, Milan finally capitulated and opened its gates to Francesco, the de facto duke of Milan, confirming one of the many shrewd statements of the political theorist NiccolÒ Machiavelli: even a tenuous hereditary claim to a throne is an advantage in regaining power.

The Holy Roman Emperor never officially recognized Francesco and Bianca Maria, but they ruled Milan as grandly as any duke and duchess the city had ever known. Boasting one of the largest urban populations in fifteenth-century Europe—about 200,000 inhabitants—the city enjoyed the products of its fertile farmlands as well as thriving commerce, particularly in the production of silk and armor.

Under Francesco Sforza, Milan set up one of the first printing presses in Europe and became world famous for its sophisticated technical advances in myriad industries.
¹
Nonetheless, a constant undercurrent of violence rippled beneath this busy surface. The first architectural project of the Sforza rule was the rebuilding of the defensive castle of Porta Giovia, which would later be renamed Castello Sforzesco. Francesco devoted particular attention to reinforcing the battlements facing the city, reflecting his belief that the greater danger to the Sforza family lurked within, not outside, the city walls. Despite internal tensions, Milan flourished. Francesco built the innovative and highly effective Maggiore hospital and the magnificent Certosa di Pavia, a monastery at the customary burial site of the Visconti dukes.

Francesco's son Galeazzo Maria continued the tradition of emphasizing municipal development along with military prowess during his ten-year reign. Assuming the leadership of Milan upon Francesco's death in 1466, he enacted Milan's most lavish displays of luxury and extravagance. He was superbly instructed in the arts befitting a prince, but Galeazzo Maria's streak of self-indulgence would earn him many enemies within his own boundaries. Caterina was three when her father, Galeazzo, became duke of Milan, and along with her father's court she took up residence in the renovated castle of Porta Giovia. Surrounded by every luxury produced by nature and man, she received a first-rate education alongside the duke's four legitimate children. Little difference was drawn between male and female offspring. The children spent long hours with their tutor, Francesco Filefo, a humanist and poet of the court. Filefo had authored
Sforzinda,
an epic poem inspired by Homer's
Iliad,
memorializing the grand deeds of Francesco Sforza's conquest of Milan. Under his tutelage, the Sforza children learned to read Latin, particularly the works of Virgil, Cicero, and Seneca. The vast ducal library contained over one thousand books, some exquisitely illuminated with brilliantly colored scenes and fine tendrils of gold leaf highlighting the borders; others were transcribed in the innovative, easy-to-read Florentine script. To complement their study of the classics, the young Sforzas read the stories of the saints. From the legend of her namesake, Catherine of Alexandria, Caterina learned that faith can make a young girl wiser than fifty philosophers. The family's immense book collection was also liberally sprinkled with French chivalric romances of the type that Cervantes would satirize a century later in
Don Quixote.
For Caterina and other young aristocrats, however, they were useful manuals, initiating them into the duties and ideals of their station through captivating tales of noble deeds and adventures.