The Tigress of Forli (25 page)

The Forlivesi flooded out of the Porta Cotogni just in time to see the arrival of the soldiers. Not the teeming mass of fighting men expected by the townspeople, a mere fifty horsemen came into view. To the chagrin of the Forlivesi, the cavalry rode up to Ravaldino, unrolled the standard of the Riario rose, and rode across the lowered drawbridge to join Caterina's troops in the castle. The long-awaited "papal army" had been sent by the cardinal camerlengo, Raffaello Riario, to aid his aunt Caterina. The Forlivesi now knew all was lost. All they could do was await retribution, in the form of sacking, looting, and executions.

The vengeful Orsis dashed to the Porta San Pietro, now truly intending to kill the Riario children, who were no longer a useful political tool. They hammered at the door, swearing that Bishop Savelli had ordered them to take the children for "safekeeping." The guards refused them, following the bishop's orders. Ronche and the Orsis insisted, alternating curses and pleas, until Savelli's soldiers rained stones from the tower upon the intruders and threatened to call the city with the warning bell.

Caterina heard the shouts and cheers outside the castle walls. Coming out to the ramparts, she no longer heard "Church! Church!" or "Orsi! Orsi!" but now "Duke! Duke!" to hail her uncle's troops. She strained her ears to listen for the word for which she had fought so long and hard. At last, the name "Ottaviano!" rang through the air. She had won. Her son was alive and Forlì was hers.

A
PRIL
30
MARKED
the Feast of Saint Mercuriale, the patron saint of Forlì. And in 1488, the Forlivesi celebrated the holiday in honor of not only their saint but also a living icon, Caterina Riario Sforza. Moments after the Council of Eight capitulated in the face of the Milanese army and returned the town to Riario rule, citizens who had hidden away in their homes since Girolamo's murder poured into the streets, cheering for their indomitable countess. The long stalemate had come to a close. Anxious council members accompanied the Sforza representatives to free nine-year-old Ottaviano from his prison in the Porta San Pietro. They escorted the bewildered boy to the piazza and led his horse three times around the square, as he took symbolic possession of the city.

Hundreds trailed after Ottaviano as he rode out of the square and along the wide road to the Ravaldino fortress. Two long weeks had passed since Caterina had last seen her son. All the Forlivesi remembered the sight of the boy standing at the edge of the moat, with an Orsi dagger pressed to his throat, while Caterina defied his captors. By the time the procession reached the ramparts, thousands of onlookers eagerly awaited their reunion.

The drawbridge lowered, revealing Caterina standing alone in the cavernous entrance. Abandoning her sword and other trappings of war, she wore a simple dress of brown, the color of mourning. Little Ottaviano bolted into his mother's arms as she stepped onto the banks, and the crowd wept as they witnessed their embrace. Ottaviano sobbed openly, but Caterina hid her face against her son's body. After a few moments she raised her head, searching for her other children; Livio, whom she had last seen in the arms of the assassin Ludovico Orsi; Bianca, her precious only girl; Sforzino, a tiny infant; Cesare and Galeazzo, her other sturdy little sons. Noting her concern, the delegates, ambassadors, and townspeople immediately swept her off to the Porta San Pietro, where she was reunited with the rest of the Riario heirs. As she gathered her children into her arms, the horrors of the past weeks were momentarily forgotten, washed away by joyful tears.

Caterina changed into more glorious raiment to make her triumphant entrance into Forlì. The dark colors of widowhood were shelved for the moment as the victorious countess donned sumptuous silk and brocade robes in celebration. Even after two weeks of imprisonment, she looked radiant as she rode through the Porta Cotogni with Ottaviano by her side. Nobles in a rainbow of heraldic colors framed Caterina and her son. Squadrons of Milanese and Bentivoglio soldiers in glittering polished armor escorted the returning rulers. The people of Forlì were elated, a surprising turnaround from the previous day, when they had scoffed at the Milanese envoys. While all the Forlivesi waved banners and shouted, "Riario! Riario!" and "Sforza! Sforza!" Caterina and Ottaviano made the triple circuit around the piazza, side by side, as cheers of allegiance rang out around them. The Riarios had reclaimed Forlì. But Caterina knew better than to relax. The danger was far from over. The next threat would arise not from her enemies, but her allies.

 

T
WENTY THOUSAND MEN
, the soldiers of the duke of Milan, were camped outside the gates of Forlì, each eagerly awaiting the signal to begin the sack. The townspeople, for all their apparent jubilation, were dreading the inevitable reprisal. The Forlivesi had looted Caterina's palace, leaving it in shambles. The countess had nothing to lose; once the festivities were over, she and her children would be safely ensconced in the fortress. Every citizen was certain that she would open the gates to her friends and relatives and use the flood of soldiers to purge the town of its guilt for Girolamo's death, her children's abduction, and the people's defection to papal rule.

But Caterina again took the people of Forlì by surprise. After her victory march, Caterina invited the captains of the armies to dine with her in the house of a loyal Forlivese nobleman, Luffo Numai. Amid the toasts and congratulations, Caterina coolly informed them that their services were no longer needed, and ordered that the armies, except for a small Milanese contingent, remain camped outside the gates while preparing for their long march home. The captains were thunderstruck. The rules of war demanded a sack. Their men had seen neither battle nor glory—only long idle days of waiting. The leaders protested that it would be easier to deny the army their wages than refuse them the satisfaction of pillage. Caterina, unruffled, replied that her subjecs had stolen jewels, silver, and other valuables from her house. If the soldiers sacked Forlì, her possessions would end up in their bags, along with everything else, and she would never see them again. Certainly her brother, the duke of Milan, she astutely noted, would not want to see his nephew's inheritance dissipated in this way. The captains cursed and threatened, but Caterina serenely poured more wine and allotted them campsites outside the three gates: San Pietro, Cotogni, and Schiavonia.

Word soon spread through the town: "
Madonna non vuole, Madonna non vuole!
" ("Our Lady doesn't want it [the sack]!"). Leone Cobelli narrated the triumphant return of Caterina with pride and joy. The chronicler also knew that the benevolent countess, hailed by the citizens as the "Savior of Forlì" on April 30, was a far cry from the woman he had seen the night before.

After the Council of Eight had fallen on April 29, several leading Riario partisans had taken over the decision making. Luffo Numai and Tommaso degli Orcioli, friends of Ludovico Ercolani, who had obtained the important messages from Caterina moments before she was captured in the Riario palace, came to Ravaldino that very night to discuss conditions of the surrender. Cobelli, who moved easily and unobtrusively among the coteries of the nobility, managed to introduce himself into the delegation. Inside Ravaldino, he witnessed Caterina's tirade over the wrongs done by the Forlivesi to her family. Her indictment of Forlì was terrible: she mounted accusations of murder, treachery, abduction, desecration, and thievery and she found the town guilty on every score. Giving vent to two weeks of pent-up rage, Caterina exclaimed that the sack was no more than what the citizens deserved.

Cobelli, rapt, then watched the normally reserved countess struggle to master herself. She did not want a sack; the weakest inevitably suffered most when anarchy reigned. She knew well that young women were always the first to be harmed when bloodthirsty soldiers raged through a town. Caterina regained her calm. She would not permit girls to be dishonored because, as Cobelli quoted her, "I care about women."
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Caterina gave the Forlivesi a chance to redeem themselves. That same night, she ordered archers to pepper the town with written messages curled around arrows: "My people of Forlì, hurry, put to death my enemies! I promise you that if you deliver them to me, I will take you as my dearest brothers. Quickly then! Fear nothing! The Milanese army is at the gate, soon you will be rewarded, and my enemies will have their just deserts!"

As Caterina's messages penetrated every street, Ludovico, Checco, Ronche, and other conspirators were huddled in the Orsi palace. From the first cries of "Duke! Duke!" and "Ottaviano! Ottaviano!" they knew the game had ended. Leaving their wives and children in the care of their aged father, Andrea Orsi, who was too ill to accompany them, the Orsi brothers set off with seventeen of their accomplices toward Ravenna. They did not leave empty-handed. Amid murder and kidnapping, the Orsis had found a little time for looting. Tens of thousands of ducats' worth of silver and jewels were stuffed into their saddlebags, along with cash and valuables stolen from Jewish moneylenders. So laden, the fugitives took to the road, but the Venetians had no intention of harboring fugitives from the duke of Milan and expelled them. They eventually found asylum in the Papal States.

With her realm saved and her enemies on the run, Caterina turned to dealing with her subjects. Edicts flowed down from the walls of Ravaldino, broadcast through the city by the town criers. The exiles who had returned to Forlì upon the death of Girolamo were ordered to leave before sundown. Bishop Savelli and his assistants were detained, not unkindly, but as an insurance policy, should the pope make one last attempt to claim the territory. Finally, Caterina received three soldiers—Capoferri, Serughi, and Denti—into her quarters. She showered the battle-hardened but slightly embarrassed men with praise, thanks, and rich rewards for having refused to give up her children to the murderous Orsis.

That night, while the Forlivesi were feasting and celebrating their good fortune, Caterina sent a few men out to recover her husband's corpse from its pauper's grave at the Church of Saint Francis. Although the cathedral of Forlì had rejected Girolamo's body, Imola, the city the count had always preferred, claimed his remains for their main church. Count Girolamo made one last trip to Imola and was entombed in the cathedral, with an elaborate marble monument to commemorate the man who had given much to the town. Caterina never forgave the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. She would give generously for the rest of her life to many religious institutions, but the cathedral of Forlì was left off the countess's list and she never set foot in it again.

Her devastated palace was no longer habitable, so Caterina stayed in the Ravaldino fortress. There she had both the security of the strong defenses and the comfort of her children all safely asleep nearby. On May 1, she awoke and prepared for the grim task of punishing the conspirators. Girolamo had always made a point of not being in town when public executions took place, leaving the inevitable unpopularity of the event to fall on the governors. Caterina was different. As she had already demonstrated during the Roffi conspiracy, she believed that several exemplary punishments would make it clear to the Forlivesi that she had assumed full control of the city.

During the Renaissance, capital punishment was a public affair. Witnesses formed an essential part of an execution. In cases like this one, the magistrates were seeking the repentance of the whole public, and the prisoner's fear and humiliation were thought to function as a deterrent to future wrongdoing. The people themselves were expected to shout and jeer, expressing their rejection of those who had disobeyed the law. It was believed that "eye for an eye" justice was required to restore order.

Caterina began by summoning a new bailiff to town. Matteo Babone of Castelbolognese instilled fear simply with his appearance. Standing head and shoulders above most Forlivesi, Babone had a hulking frame, and his heavy, irregular features were partially concealed by hanks of filthy, matted black hair. The people recoiled in terror from "the Turk," as they dubbed him; he seemed to be conjured out of a nightmare of an Ottoman invasion. Unlike the unfortunate Barone, who had been co-opted to execute the Roffi conspirators and went running to the nearest shrine to expiate his sins, Babone relished his work; having no ties to the townspeople, he felt no qualms about the grisly job.

At daybreak, while Caterina was kneeling in the Church of Saint Francis, praying for her husband's soul, Babone broke down doors and yanked conspirators, still in their bedclothes, to the gallows. Marco Scocciacaro, who had thrown the body of Girolamo from the window into the square, was the first to pay for his crimes. To make the punishment fit the crime, Babone dangled Scocciacaro on a noose from the window through which he had dropped the count. The executioner swung his victim back and forth above the crowd like a grotesque piñata as the Forlivesi clawed at his body. Scocciacaro was still alive when Babone dropped him into the waiting crowd, who tore him limb from limb.

Next came handsome twenty-nine-year-old Pagliarino, nephew of the assassin Giacomo del Ronche. The young man had been caught in conspiracies before and also was a known thief, but Caterina had always pardoned him out of fondness for his mother. But the young man had initiated the desecration of the count's body, dragging it across the piazza. Caterina could no longer be indulgent; he too was suspended from the window. The crowd, now in a frenzy of blood lust, slit his throat, castrated him, and carved out his heart and intestines. The last man killed on that bloody day was Pietro Albanese. At Ravaldino he had incited the Orsis to murder Caterina's children and hurled verbal abuse at the countess. He was hanged at the gallows and his body left among the soldiers, who hacked at it with spades and lances. At last the sun set on the piazza of Forlì, drawing the day's horrors to a close. As Cobelli looked sadly on his beloved square, usually bright with colorful ceramic wares and fragrant with fresh fruit, he breathed in the reek of rotting flesh and sighed, "Unbelievable! To call this a lake of blood would not be a lie."
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