Relations between husband and wife did not improve, even though by the time the queen wrote this letter, she was pregnant again, clearly by Louis as Enrico had been in captivity for the previous seven months. Joanna was forced to cede power to her husband, upon whom she had generously bestowed the title of count of Provence while the couple were still in Avignon. Now Louis of Taranto used this position to countermand orders and appointments the queen had made previously. The situation was only made worse by her sister Maria, who, having been left destitute by the assassination of Charles of Durazzo, had returned to Naples to demand the remainder of her substantial dowry from the queen. Since by now the king of Hungary had also returned to the kingdom, accompanied by yet another large army, and the crown obviously needed every florin to prosecute the war, the time was hardly convenient to pay out a large sum. When Joanna denied her sister’s request, a wrathful Maria moved into the Castel dell’Ovo with her children by her side and treachery in her heart.
The arrival of Joanna’s third child, disappointingly another daughter, Françoise, in March of the following year, provoked a crisis. Enrico Caracciolo had by this time been executed, and Louis of Taranto had Joanna under virtual house arrest, where he further menaced the queen with threats of death or life imprisonment. No one was allowed to speak with Joanna unless her husband was present, and rumors abounded that Louis of Taranto intended to kill her. The queen did her best to circumvent her persecutor by smuggling a secret emissary to Avignon with instructions to convey the perilous nature of her position to the pope. This, clearly, her ambassador did, as on April 17, Clement, who by this time had learned to listen to death threats emanating out of Naples, wrote to the doge of Genoa: “The quarrel between Louis and the queen, if one reads all of their letters, puts the life of Joanna in danger. Protect her!” Genoa, which had promised ships to Louis of Hungary, retracted them and from this point on supported the queen’s side in the war. The papacy then directed a steady stream of letters to Naples instructing all parties, including the Acciaiuolis, to restore peaceful relations between husband and wife.
By June, Louis of Hungary and his army had arrived outside the gates of Aversa, which were closed to the invader, and had begun a siege of the city. The nearness of the king prompted a new subterfuge involving Joanna’s sister, Maria. Louis of Hungary’s young wife, Margaret of Bohemia, had died the previous year, fueling speculation that the situation in Naples might now be resolved through matrimony rather than warfare. The captive princes of the houses of Taranto and Durazzo, who despite the papacy’s best efforts were still being held prisoner in Visegrád, put forward Maria’s name as a possible candidate as an inducement toward their liberation, even though the king of Hungary had been responsible for murdering Charles of Durazzo and causing his widow to flee for her life. Astoundingly, Maria was receptive to the idea of marrying her husband’s assassin. The widowed duchess of Durazzo quietly dispatched one of her own household, an emissary named Marino Rumbo, to meet with the king at the small village of Trentola outside Aversa to negotiate the terms of the marriage contract. According to the Chronique of Parthénope, “After deliberation with the royal family who remained prisoner in Hungary, the king of Hungary made a secret accord with Madame Maria to make a marriage with her which dictated that the king would receive the dominion of the realm of Sicily [Naples] while Queen Joanna would remain countess of Provence.” A document to this effect was actually drawn up and sealed by both parties.
But, as futile as the situation might appear, Joanna was far from helpless. By her performance in consistory, the queen had made a powerful ally of the pope, and she still retained many faithful subjects in Provence who were angry that Louis of Taranto had usurped power from Robert the Wise’s legitimate heir. These supporters now came to her aid. The pope dispatched Hugo del Balzo, the count of Avellino—the same Hugo del Balzo whom Clement had sent in the aftermath of Andrew’s murder to prosecute Joanna’s favorites—and a nuncio, the bishop of Saint-Omer, to Naples to intervene on the queen’s behalf. Suspecting that a show of force might be necessary, Hugo took the precaution of recruiting a squadron of loyalists, mostly from Marseille, before embarking for the kingdom.
Thus, on or around July 20, 1350, the people of Naples awoke to find a fleet of six galleys filled with armed men from Marseille and flying the banners of the church and the queen of Naples (but not, significantly, those of Louis of Taranto) anchored off the coast between the Castel Nuovo and the Castel dell’Ovo. Louis sent representatives to discover the count of Avellino’s intentions, to whom Hugo replied that he was in Naples at the request of the pope, who had instructed him to ensure the reestablishment of harmonious relations between Joanna and her husband. The bishop of Saint-Omer then requested a private audience with the queen, which Louis dared not forbid. This was the first time in nearly a year that Joanna had been allowed to speak to an ally without her husband’s being present. There is no record of what the pair discussed. When he emerged, the bishop merely said that he was happy to find the queen in such good spirits and then left for Aversa to meet with the king of Hungary, leaving Hugo to rescue the queen.
This the count of Avellino did quite effectively by enlisting the aid of the Neapolitan population against Louis of Taranto, a strategy with which the courtier had some experience. He began by spreading the rumor that Joanna’s husband was trying to poison her, and announced that he would use his men and ships to besiege the Castel Nuovo in order to save her. He further threatened that if Louis of Taranto continued to resist the pope’s authority, and the people of Naples did not take measures to help reinstate their legitimate sovereign, the queen, then the pope (as represented by Hugo) would side with the king of Hungary and use his fleet to conquer the city. However, if the citizenry obeyed the instructions of the church and helped convince Louis of Taranto to surrender power to his wife, then Hugo promised to force the Hungarian army to retreat and to establish a lasting peace with its king. According to the Chronicon Siculum, during the two weeks or so that the count of Avellino was delivering this message, the sailors on board the galleys would regularly chant “Long Live the Pope! Long Live the Queen! Down with Louis of Taranto!,” just in case any of the general population were in doubt as to the official church position on this matter.
Faced with the implacable resistance of the pope, and a growing resentment among his fellow countrymen, Louis of Taranto abruptly capitulated. By August he had drafted and signed an official edict acknowledging the queen as the sole ruler of Provence and had accepted Clement’s decision, as stipulated in a July 20 letter from the papal court, that as Joanna’s consort he could be crowned king if he desired but in name only; under no circumstances would he have a say in her government nor in any way trespass upon her prerogative. On August 17, in recognition of the reestablishment of her authority, Joanna immediately named a new seneschal of Provence, replacing her husband’s former appointment, and two days later she sent a letter to Clement, thanking him profusely for his intervention. Nor did the queen forget her true deliverers: on September 2, she sent a special emissary to Provence with a letter conveying her “best love” to the people of Marseille.
While this drama was unfolding in the capital, the bishop of Saint-Omer was busy negotiating a truce with Louis of Hungary, which went into effect in September. According to the Chronicon Siculum, the king of Hungary formally agreed to a suspension of all hostilities for a period of six months, or until April 1351, with the caveat that each opposing force held its territorial gains. This meant that the Hungarian army, which had just taken Aversa after a prolonged siege, would remain in that city, while the queen’s forces stayed in Naples. During the truce, as a gesture to the Hungarians, the papacy agreed to try Joanna again for the murder of her husband. If she was found guilty, she would lose her kingdom, which would then go to Maria. (Since the king of Hungary expected to marry Maria, a scheme that the bishop of Saint-Omer had been told to encourage for the time being, this condition was considered acceptabl
e.) If Joanna was found innocent, however, Louis of Hungary would give up his claim to the kingdom and forfeit all the land and castles he occupied in Naples, which would then be returned to the queen. To sweeten the deal, no matter what the outcome of this second inquest, Joanna was also required to pay her adversary three hundred thousand florins, ostensibly to ransom the captured members of the royal family but in reality to pay off the king of Hungary to accept the terms of the treaty. Lastly, during the six-month period of the truce, while the outcome of the criminal proceedings remained in doubt, all the principal combatants—the king of Hungary, Joanna, and Louis of Taranto—were required to leave the kingdom.
There are many reasons why Louis of Hungary, despite his initial military successes, decided to accept this deal. The citizens of Aversa had put up significantly more resistance this time than they had previously, and the king had sustained a serious leg wound as a result of the hostilities. Matteo Villani reported: “The king of Hungary had attacked Aversa at length with strong forces and despite its weak defenses and scant fortifications, had failed to conquer the town by either assault or siege; he thought the other, larger and stronger cities would prove even more strenuous to conquer as they were in the hands of his enemies and his difficulties in conquering Aversa would increase their resistance. Also, his barons had completed the military service they owed him; to keep them to help him conquer the kingdom meant to pay them, and he had little money and could not get more from a country that had been ravaged by war. He saw that Louis of Taranto, his vassals and supporters were prepared to defend their walls. Thus he changed his mind easily, ready to agree to a compromise that would allow him to leave the kingdom without losing face.”
For their part, Joanna and Louis of Taranto, having tried to reclaim the kingdom with mixed results, were also amenable to this arrangement. “As for Louis of Taranto,” Matteo Villani continued, “he was reduced to being unable not only to resist the enemy, but even to face the most basic expenses for survival. And if the Neapolitans had not agreed to defend him and the Queen, they couldn’t have stayed. In this context, a few mediators meddled and easily obtained an agreement.” To a warrior like Joanna’s husband, however, the terms of the peace treaty hinted faintly of dishonor. To remedy the situation, he challenged his opponent to a duel, to be held for fairness in the presence of either the pope or the king of France. Louis of Hungary countered by agreeing to single combat only if it were adjudicated by the Holy Roman Emperor or the king of England. Since neither man was willing to fight on the other’s turf, the proposed competition never materialized.
Joanna, having pleaded her case so successfully the first time, did not fear the outcome of a second inquest, so she raised no objection to this condition. The queen did, however, protest the magnitude of the ransom she would be required to pay, and she eventually convinced Clement to advance the funds for her, pending her guarantee that she would reimburse the church at a later date.
Both sides having formally accepted this agreement, the principals made good on their pledge to withdraw from the kingdom. On September 17, Louis of Hungary quit Aversa for Rome, leaving a force of five thousand knights under the direction of the voivode of Transylvania, the regional governor. Joanna appointed Francisco del Balzo, a relative of Hugo’s, to govern Naples in her absence before she and Louis of Taranto also embarked for Rome on September 17. Hugo del Balzo graciously offered the royal couple his own vessel for the journey, and the queen and her husband sailed out of the harbor accompanied by three of the galleys from Marseille. The count of Avellino delayed his own departure, remaining behind with the other two ships, ostensibly to ensure a smooth transition in the queen’s absence, although he promised to catch up with Joanna and her party before she reached Rome.
No sooner had the galleys left Naples, however, than Hugo del Balzo put into motion a plot that seems to have been concealed from both Joanna and Louis of Taranto. In a sign that Clement had had enough of Hungarian demands for sovereignty over Naples, and considered the negotiated peace settlement the last word on the subject, Hugo had remained behind specifically to marry his own son Robert, who had accompanied his father to Naples, to the widowed duchess of Durazzo. As the pope’s instrument, Hugo would not have taken such a step without prior approval. But as the marriage represented a debasement for Maria—the Balzo family were not members of royalty—Joanna would have been expected to object to the match, and for this reason was not informed of the scheme. Neither, as it turned out, was Maria. This was a unilateral action taken both to thwart the duchess of Durazzo’s secret compact with Louis of Hungary and as a reward to the count of Avellino for services rendered. As such, at least in Hugo’s opinion, there was no need to consult the wishes of the prospective bride.
Accordingly, the chronicles, utilizing varying degrees of detail, report that Robert del Balzo, under orders and in the presence of his father, raped Maria in order to effect the desired nuptials. “On September 29,” the Chronicon Siculum reported, “the count of Avellino entered the Castel dell’Ovo, took Madame Maria, the duchess of Durazzo, and married her to his son.” “The count went to the castle with a small escort to visit Maria before leaving,” Matteo Villani agreed. “Unawares, the duchess asked that the doors be opened so that he could enter freely. He walked in with his two sons and his armed close counselors whom he ordered to guard the doors and the castle. When he [Hugo] arrived in the presence of the duchess, he said he wanted her to marry his son Robert, and had the marriage consummated by force.”
Even setting aside the brutality of his action, the presumptuousness displayed by Hugo—in allying his son to Maria he put his family in line to one day possibly inherit the throne of Naples—was startling and resulted in his swift downfall. When Hugo, with Robert and Maria in tow, rendezvoused in Gaeta with Joanna on October 7, news of her sister’s ordeal leaked out to the queen’s party. Matteo Villani reported that Joanna was profoundly outraged at Hugo del Balzo’s betrayal. Louis of Taranto, still smarting from the humiliation of having to cede power to his wife that had been imposed on him by the count of Avellino and aching to relieve his feelings, saw his opportunity. When the crew of Hugo del Balzo’s ship took shore leave, they were bribed by Joanna’s husband to remain on land and betray their master, who was still on deck recovering from an attack of gout. Louis then armed himself and, accompanied by a small party of warriors, boarded the count of Avellino’s vessel and there stabbed Hugo repeatedly with his sword before throwing the corpse of his victim into the sea. Robert del Balzo was arrested; the liberated duchess of Durazzo came ashore and spent the winter in Gaeta with her sister and her sister’s husband. The prisoner was eventually transported to a dungeon at the Castel dell’Ovo, where, despite Clement’s plea in a letter of February 1, 1351, to Louis of Taranto to spare the son punishment for the sins of the father, Robert was executed. Matteo Villani affirmed that the duchess of Durazzo was herself responsible for Robert del Balzo’s death. While Joanna, her husband, and the rest of the court were away on a holiday outside the capital city, Maria stole into the Castel dell’Ovo with four armed men she had hired for the purpose and had her former assailant hacked to pieces in her presence as an effective warning to those who would presume upon the dignity of a royal princess of the house of Anjou in the future.
The lurid termination of this episode marked the end of hostilities between the kingdoms of Naples and Hungary. By the end of October 1350, Louis of Hungary had left Rome for Visegrád, never to return. In February 1351, Louis of Taranto and Niccolò Acciaiuoli came back to the kingdom and liberated Aversa; Joanna and her sister traveled separately by sea. “At the end of the month of February, the king [Louis of Taranto], the queen, and the duchess of Durazzo, reentered the capital city of Naples,” the Chronicon Siculum reported. Despite the clause in the peace treaty, there is no record of Clement’s having convened a new tribunal in order to further investigate Joanna’s role in her first husband’s death. Certainly, she was not required to make an appearanc
e in either Rome or Avignon in order to give evidence again. The Hungarians must have finally given up or lost interest, as the absence of the inquest did not affect the pace of reconciliation. By June 14, Niccolò Acciaiuoli was able to write: “The general accord between our masters and the king of Hungary has been accepted by both sides, the princes are being liberated, and we have peace.” There remained the crippling obligation of the ransom, but even this issue was resolved in Naples’s favor. When on December 28, 1351, after stalling for months, Joanna finally sent Clement the repayment guarantee he had demanded for agreeing to forward the three hundred thousand florins on her behalf, Louis of Hungary, in a burst of chivalry, surprised everyone by suddenly forgiving the debt, citing as his reason to the pope: “Because he did not go to war for greed, but to avenge the death of his brother,” Matteo Villani explained.
The spring of 1352 was marked by joy and a new spirit of cooperation between Joanna and her husband, an ebullience scheduled to culminate in May with the celebration of an elaborate double coronation. In January, Louis of Taranto had formally agreed to all the limitations to his kingship that Andrew’s family had previously rejected, including the recognition of his wife’s prerogative. He was to be crowned as king consort only; his children by Joanna could inherit the throne (by this time it was known in Naples that little Charles Martel had died) but recognition of his title would not survive her death: if Joanna died without heirs, the kingdom would go to Maria. Robert the Wise’s legitimacy as sovereign was finally fully established, and the hierarchy of succession remained in principle as delineated by his will.
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