The Tigress of Forli (5 page)

By the time the holiday festivities were underway, however, the engagement plans had soured. While Gabriella originally had agreed to the written terms of her daughter's marriage contract, the prospective groom arrived in Milan with one additional, and unacceptable, demand—to have sexual relations with the future bride upon formalizing the engagement.

Gabriella Gonzaga flatly refused to allow the debauched Riario —of inferior rank, to boot—to deflower her daughter, insisting that he await the legal of age of consummation, fourteen. Infuriated at this roadblock, Galeazzo railed and threatened, but the mother held out staunchly.

On January 6, 1473, the marquis of Mantua wrote to propose a compromise that would be satisfactory to his daughter Gabriella and (he hoped) the count of Bosco. To consider the marriage legally and bindingly consummated, Gabriella would allow her child to be "put to bed" with Riario, with herself and several noblewomen present, as well as any other witnesses the groom might choose to include.
³
This ceremony alone would be considered equivalent to consummation, though no actual carnal intercourse would take place. Girolamo refused and threatened to leave Milan. Galeazzo, watching his plans unravel, needed to placate Girolamo immediately.

As Caterina sat at her father's table, enjoying the lavish holiday fare, she would have heard melodious singing and the clatter of dishes, but not the hurried and desperate negotiations in which her fate was being settled by her father, the marquis of Mantua, and the count of Bosco. Finally, Galeazzo offered to substitute his own ten-year-old Caterina as bride in Costanza's stead. Girolamo accepted and on January 17, 1473, the wedding contract was stipulated in a tiny ceremony, with only the duke, the duchess, and the court doctor present.

In the Renaissance world of arranged marriages, there were no romantic proposals on bended knee—only notaries and contracts. The process consisted of three stages. The first was the negotiation between the parents of both parties regarding dowry and any arrangement of alliances or transfer of lands. The second was the betrothal ceremony, at which the bride and groom would be presented to each other, often for the first time. Before a series of witnesses, a notary asked if they wished to be married, and the couple responded "
Volo,
" "I do." The contract would be signed and the agreement sealed with a ring and a kiss. If the new husband and wife were of age, meaning about fourteen, the marriage could then be consummated, but this was not usually done until the third stage, the actual transfer of the bride to her new husband's house. Consummation, or carnal intercourse, was the point of no return in a Renaissance marriage. After having been "possessed" by her husband, the young woman could no longer back out of the marriage without grave scandal accruing to herself and to her family. Reaching this last stage could take up to a year for most families; with nobles, it could take much longer.
⁴

Caterina's voice was never heard or solicited during this period, nor would she have expected anyone to ask her opinion. Like all noble girls of her age in this era, she expected to be married in a year or two and to be producing children soon after. Although the sudden marriage and premature intercourse would indeed have been traumatic for ten-year-old Caterina, she had been raised to do her part to maintain the family fortunes. A lucky child like Costanza might have a determined parent with enough connections to impose her will, but in Caterina's household, her father's word was law. Children in the Sforza clan would have understood that they existed to be bartered for the greater good of the Sforza name and Sforza claims. Raised in a worldly court, where mistresses were the norm and bawdy humor preempted erudite conversation, Caterina probably knew what awaited her on the wedding night.
⁵
Although her first sexual experience was probably painful and unpleasant, Caterina got over her psychological and physical wounds quickly. She never wavered in her affection for her father, even after his death, and later in life she would be known as a woman who enjoyed sex to an "unseemly" degree.

That Caterina's father was satisfied with the arrangement is well documented in the proud missives he sent to Pope Sixtus IV, recounting the successful outcome of the negotiations, as well as in the retaliatory letters the duke sent to Gabriella Gonzaga. Pondering her last-minute refusal, the duke professed himself mystified. "To tell the truth, Lady Gabriella seems strange and wild to us," he wrote to his ambassador in Rome on the day of Caterina's wedding. "We have been considerate of her because she is a woman and, this being the nature of women, we don't want to argue with them."
⁶

A week later, the duke reported that "Count Girolamo leaves this morning from here to return to his Holiness the Pope and to His Eminent brother. We welcomed him gladly and affectionately while he was here, because we liked him a great deal. And he slept with his wife another time and he is very happy and content. Please relate this to His above-mentioned Holiness and His Eminent brother, adding that we accepted him wholeheartedly not just as a son-in-law, but as a son, and thus we want to keep and consider him."
⁷

The hasty consummation did not please the pope, however, who was obliged to issue a papal bull within a matter of weeks to clear up the irregularities in the marriage. The document, signed on February 26, 1473, declared the last-minute switch in bride valid and absolved all parties involved in the illegal intercourse.
⁸
And so Caterina, the child who had watched the yule log crackle on Christmas, was a wife by the time the ashes had cooled.

Once the two families were united through marriage, it was time to get down to business. Caterina brought with her a hefty dowry of ten thousand ducats, while Girolamo presented expensive gifts of jewels, dresses embroidered with pearls, and silk and brocade capes, meant for whichever wife he obtained.
⁹
But the real objective was Imola. On September 12, 1473, Girolamo's brother Cardinal Pietro Riario arrived in Milan to close the deal. Though two years younger than Girolamo, Pietro was the smarter of the two and served the pope as his most trustworthy delegate. Handsome, witty, and well educated, he had been appointed cardinal at the age of twenty-six and oversaw international affairs for his uncle.

Rumors of Pietro's far-from-ascetic tastes reached Milan long before he did, and the duke went out of his way to welcome the cardinal in grand style. Dozens of trumpets greeted the churchman and his retinue of 220 (Girolamo had, by contrast, traveled with an entourage of 60). Rooms were enlarged and repainted, and the vaulted ceiling of one reception room was lined with expensive red velvet. Sumptuous parties followed upon lavish hunts, and the honored guest did not shy away from these worldly entertainments. Smiling, charming, and notoriously successful with women, Pietro Riario delighted the Sforza court, especially his new sister-in-law Caterina. Upon his arrival, Caterina recited verses of welcome in Latin, and the cardinal flattered her profusely, admiring both her beauty and her education. But as easily distracted by games, feasts, and local beauties as he may have been, Pietro never forgot why he was there. By October 23, Pietro Riario had completed the purchase of Imola from Milan for the steep price of forty thousand ducats. Although the pope reeled from sticker shock, he soon recovered and set about procuring loans from Florentine banks. As part of the deal, he nominated Girolamo—"for his noble blood, wealth of merits, and distinctive valor"—as count of Imola, a title to be passed on to his heirs.

With the negotiations concluded and the festivities over, Pietro Riario left Milan, only to die three short months later at the age of twenty-seven. Contemporary chronicles relate that the "whole world wept" at the passing of this worldly and luxury-loving cardinal, and that the pope especially was heartbroken. Girolamo wasted no time laying claim to his brother's vast fortune as well as his high position at the papal court. Meanwhile, Caterina, the eleven-year-old countess of Imola, waited quietly in Milan for word from her husband.

W
ITH THE LEGALITIES
of the marriage settled and familial alliances consolidated, the oddly matched couple parted company for three years. Caterina was left to her father's care in Milan, to continue her studies until she turned fourteen, when she would join her husband in Rome. Girolamo, for his part, was not pining for his child bride. Not one letter was exchanged between the spouses between the hasty ceremony of winter 1473 and Caterina's departure for Rome in 1476. Girolamo, in fact, was consoling himself with several mistresses during those years and had produced an illegitimate son, Scipione.

Caterina, meanwhile, was pursuing more innocent pastimes, alternating between schoolroom lessons and long hunting expeditions. She learned to play
palla,
a precursor to tennis, which had become the rage among the Milanese aristocracy. The duke was so enamored of the game that he outfitted his castle in Milan with its own indoor
palla
court, where the family could play, rain or shine. Caterina competed with her siblings, hitting the ball back and forth with her round racquet. The Sforza family practiced and promoted the sport to encourage good coordination, agility, and use of strategy. As months turned to years, Caterina grew from a pretty little girl into a slim, refined young woman, favored with fair hair, graceful limbs, and elegant features.

Girolamo, meanwhile, was consolidating his authority in Rome, playing old family rivalries against each other. He gathered titles from his papal uncle but demonstrated little sense of the customary reciprocal relations of protection and loyalty between ruler and ruled. When he was named count of Imola, Girolamo didn't even bother to visit his latest acquisition—the possession ceremony took place by proxy. The sharp tongues of the rebellious Trastevere area of Rome began to call him the "Archpope," a sign that dislike for the arrogant upstart was growing every day.

While Caterina's husband was making enemies in Rome, her father, Galeazzo, was alienating some of his own long-standing allies. The duke of Milan had thrown his military support behind the duke of Bourgogne, known as Charles the Bold, the mortal enemy of King Louis XI of France. This rash decision to turn against King Louis, his own cousin and brother-in-law, soon proved a mistake and Galeazzo swiftly returned his allegiance to France. At the same time, the marriage of Alfonso of Aragon, duke of Calabria, to Galeazzo's sister Ippolita Sforza had sealed an alliance between Milan and King Ferdinand of Naples, the father of the groom. Yet when Ferdinand confidently called on the duke to aid him in claiming the island of Cyprus for his son, he discovered, to his surprise, that the duke intended to support his rival, Venice. Galeazzo's decision was practical—he did not want to risk hostilities with the maritime republic that bordered his state—but the Neapolitan king, already furious with Galeazzo for pilfering his best singers, caustically rebuked his former ally. To be a good ruler, he warned, "it's not enough to declare 'I'm the duke of Milan, young, prosperous, rich, with a thriving state and strong soldiers.' The reputation and the dignity of a lord rest on his good government."
¹
The duke shrugged off this wise counsel.

On the domestic front, the duke's ardor for civic improvement in Milan was cooling. The program of frescoes for the Porta Giovia castle was abandoned, the plan for the equestrian statue became a mere memory, and no new projects were undertaken. The economic toll of civic improvement was beginning to strain the ducal finances. His faithful secretary of state, Cicco Simonetta, dealt with day-to-day business loyally and efficiently but, subservient to the duke, proposed no initiatives for saving or making money.

In the spring of 1474, fresh hopes for the establishment of a republic were aroused among the Milanesi when word spread that the duke had summoned the Council of Nine Hundred, a group of representatives elected throughout the duchy, to a special session. Except to swear loyalty to Galeazzo as duke in 1469, the council had not been convened for twenty-five years. The people of Milan interpreted the news as a sign that the duke had decided to adopt a more representational form of government, perhaps similar to that of their Savoyard neighbors. On April 13, the sense of anticipation was palpable as the councilors assembled in the Court of Arengo, the duke's official Milanese palace.

The representatives were bitterly disappointed. They were separated into sections, so no deputy from the outlying areas could speak with those from the city. They were not invited to discuss legislation, although two of the duke's brothers were present, should any deputy choose to make a private petition. Instead, they were handed a series of ducal decrees to be ratified without modification. The duke's real intentions were soon apparent. Most of these decrees were financial in nature and imposed, not in name but in fact, the most onerous and loathed tax of all, the
inquinto
—a fifth part added to existing taxes on the most basic staples: meat, bread, and wine.
²

The duke needed money to support his extravagant court and lifestyle. Always a self-indulgent man, Galeazzo made less and less effort to hide his excesses from his people and his family. He loved fine clothes and armor and had endless outfits made up for himself and his courtiers from the most costly materials. His hunts in the gardens of Pavia, specially stocked for each event, were also ruinously expensive. One year, the duke spent forty thousand ducats, the cost of the town of Imola, on jewels alone.
³

The Venetian ducat was the principal currency of the Renaissance era. Six to seven lire made up a ducat; each lira was composed of twenty soldi. A fifteenth-century laborer considered himself fortunate if he earned one ducat a year. As the citizens of Milan struggled to pay this heavy tax on their daily necessities out of such meager earnings, they came to resent Galeazzo's profligate spending.