As Pope Calixtus breathed his last, and despite the seething anti-Spanish sentiment, the younger Borgia held his ground. When the conclave of cardinals convened to elect the next pope, Rodrigo Borgia and Pietro Barbo were still in Rome. They threw their combined support to an Italian who took the name of Pius II, earning the prelate’s appreciation.
Rodrigo prospered mightily in the next years. Thanks to his skillful management of the politics of papal succession, he had maintained all his holdings, even his title of vice-chancellor of the Vatican, and in the subsequent years, he continued to expand his domains, in some cases inheriting the fortunes that other family members had been granted under Calixtus’s papacy.
Rodrigo used this capital to organize his own path toward the papacy. He spent his money to richly reward his friends and allies, and on lavish entertainments that made his sumptuous home a center of attention in a city that appreciated earthly splendor. Rodrigo was a consummate Renaissance man who enjoyed the pleasures of both the flesh and the intellect. Poets, artists, and musicians profited from his patronage; he was an early patron of the printing presses that were beginning to churn out works from both ancient and modern writers. Italian visitors described his home in Rome in tones of awe, referring rapturously to its “storied tapestries,” a massive bed furnished with “crimson hangings,” and a sideboard “crowded with fine-wrought gold and silver vessels.”7
He was, nevertheless, a study in contrasts. He was a religious man, moderate in his consumption of food and drink, abstemious toward liquor, and undeniably pious. But he was also handsome, and his spiritual role gave him the allure of forbidden fruit in the eyes of many women. Rodrigo found it hard to resist temptation. It was difficult to shock a Roman in the Renaissance era, but even by the intemperate standards of the day, Rodrigo’s sexual vices soon stirred scandal. An infant’s baptismal feast in May 1460 somehow sparked a two-week sexual bacchanalia. Many lovely ladies were invited to attend; their husbands were pointedly excluded. Soon Rodrigo’s sexual exploits became so notorious that it was necessary, even in this libidinous time, for successive popes to urge him to restrain himself to protect the church’s dignity.
This kind of notoriety was not what the church needed when it was still struggling to shake off the stigma of the schism. Even as church leaders, notably popes Calixtus and Pius, sought to highlight the threat from abroad—the menace from the Ottoman Turks—it became impossible to overlook the threat from within. Vice and corruption were undermining the Christian church, and making it hard for it to assert the moral authority needed to mobilize the faithful against the invading Muslim forces.
A growing list of ecclesiastical and secular misdeeds drew the attention of church critics. These practices included simony, or the buying and selling of spiritual goods and church offices; nepotism, conspicuously practiced by Pope Calixtus; and widespread violations of oaths of clerical celibacy. Another festering problem was the selling of indulgences, which allowed the wealthy to pay for sins and buy off church leaders regardless of the extent of their wrongdoings. Secular rulers, meanwhile, interfered in the appointment and installation of bishops and abbots, a practice called lay investiture. This had the effect of allowing rulers to place their own unworthy and unqualified candidates, often their illegitimate children, in religious posts.
Many of these weaknesses were manifestly observable in Rodrigo, who encapsulated the best and worst of the Renaissance. He was cultured and tolerant, but also a libertine whose cynicism left him without moral guideposts. The hypocrisy was proving problematic for both Borgia and the church.
Still, Rodrigo’s wealth and power continued to grow. Borgia’s friend Pietro Barbo became the next pope, reigning as Pope Paul II, and when Pietro Barbo died, Rodrigo was in an excellent position to help Francesco della Rovere take the papal throne, with the title of Pope Sixtus IV. Sixtus began a remarkable Renaissance reign, building the Sistine Chapel, establishing the Vatican Archives, and rebuilding Rome.
It was thanks to Borgia’s intervention, under Pope Sixtus IV, that Isabella and Ferdinand finally legitimized their marriage by obtaining the long-withheld marital dispensation from the pope.
And now the fates of Borgia, Ferdinand, and Isabella grew closely intertwined. As Sixtus mounted the throne, further Turkish incursions were reported, and the new pope decided to send emissaries throughout western Europe to ensure domestic tranquillity in the lands under his spiritual dominion and to secure financial support to fight off the Turks. It made perfect sense to send Borgia home to Spain as his ambassador there.
Rodrigo voyaged in opulence in early 1472, arriving in Aragon in May, returning in triumph as a prince of the church. Three bishops accompanied him, and he brought along two Italian painters, whom he set to embellishing the cathedral in Valencia that was Rodrigo’s home bishopric.
Borgia met with King Juan of Aragon and Ferdinand in Valencia, having entered the city in a procession, riding under a silken canopy, to the accompaniment of blaring trumpets. Borgia hosted the throng with an elaborate banquet, featuring many delicacies and fine food. Over the next fifteen months, he met with Ferdinand and his father in a series of talks that had far-reaching consequences. The three men found they had much in common.
Rodrigo was, quite literally, their subject, an Aragonese man who happened to be living in Rome. Courtiers said that Juan and Ferdinand were acutely aware of this status. The upheavals in Italy had made it quite apparent to Rodrigo that his fortunes there could never be guaranteed, that a non-Italian pope would always inspire popular resentment. Being a far-sighted and cautious man, albeit one of great ambition, he wanted to give himself an alternative plan if he should ever need to make a hasty exit from Rome. He was therefore inclined to be helpful to his king. And once he and Ferdinand met, each recognized in the other a compatible individual who could prove very useful.
Ferdinand was careful to keep his father informed on all these developments. In August 1472, for example, he wrote him about the progress of his meetings with Borgia.8 In March 1473, in a letter to his father, he referred casually to Borgia as his “compadre.”9
Another important meeting occurred in Valencia in mid-September 1472. This time Borgia was joined by Pedro González de Mendoza, a scion of the rich and influential Mendoza family and the bishop of Sigüenza. Borgia made a grand entry into his native city—and Mendoza an even grander one.10 Borgia was ambitious, but so was Mendoza
Borgia then traveled to Alcalá de Henares at the end of February, where he spent three weeks with Isabella at the home of Alfonso Carrillo, the archbishop of Toledo, the man who had been Isabella’s most constant supporter. Carrillo expended huge sums of money on food and entertainments for Borgia, as he hoped that the Vatican would name him a cardinal of Spain, a position he believed he deserved.11 Borgia seemed impressed with Isabella; Isabella was less impressed by him. But the sign of papal support implicit in this visit strengthened her case as successor to Enrique.
Rodrigo was undoubtedly looking to advance his own career, but he also came, in time, to see the young couple as Spain’s hopeful future, and he gave them his good wishes and practical support. A master at building strategic alliances, he had soon identified the single individual that Isabella needed to complete her team. He was Pedro González de Mendoza, bishop of Sigüenza and Enrique’s most stalwart supporter among the nobility. King Enrique had inadvertently made that alliance easier by sending Mendoza himself to meet with Borgia, hopeful that he could win the Vatican to his side in his conflict with his sister. Instead Mendoza ended up shifting his allegiance to Isabella.
Soon a number of deals were struck. Borgia was promised future lands and titles in Aragon, and King Juan negotiated for Mendoza to be given the cardinal’s hat and to be named archbishop of Seville. In exchange for these grand titles coming from the Vatican, Isabella and Ferdinand eventually received the support of the powerful Mendoza clan, which included not only the bishop of Sigüenza but also the Count of Tendilla, Diego Hurtado de M
endoza, and their vast network of vassals and allies.12
This assistance was crucial for Isabella and Ferdinand. “In the last years of Enrique’s reign,” writes William Phillips, biographer of Enrique IV, “the Mendoza family agreed that while they would not oppose the king, they would do nothing to help his daughter Juana after his death.”13 By promising one member of the family a cardinal’s hat, Rodrigo had drawn the Mendozas to Isabella’s side, giving her crucial future support. Mendoza would be loyal to King Enrique during his lifetime, but his investiture symbolized a future commitment between the new cardinal, who would be the Vatican’s foremost prelate in Castile, its spiritual leader, and the princess who wished to reign as its secular leader.
How did Isabella view Rodrigo after these negotiations? It is difficult to know what she thought of him. She was an avid advocate of church reform, of purifying religious practice and rooting out corruption. Her own religious advisers were devoutly spiritual men who emulated the simplicity and poverty of Jesus and Saint Francis of Assisi. But Isabella was able to overlook the earthly sins that plagued some chief prelates. Borgia was not the only libertine among the clerics. Mendoza also had a famously roving eye and was the father of several children, whom Isabella once referred to as the archbishop’s “pretty little sins.”
On some level Isabella must have accepted human nature as it was, particularly when it was to her advantage to do so. And certainly she would have enjoyed some aspects of Rodrigo’s personality, notably his interest in culture and learning. He was more intellectual than her husband, and certainly well versed on the latest developments in art and culture in Rome, topics that she found fascinating and inspirational. Perhaps they discussed the new styles in art while he was in Spain—she would come to know much about this topic in a short time. By the time he sailed back to Rome, he was firmly in her sphere of influence, as she was in his. He had agreed to legitimize the little princess Isabel, her daughter, and he had even promised to serve as the child’s godfather.
Borgia’s promise may have reflected his belief in Isabella’s aptitude to rule. Or it may have reflected his expectation that Ferdinand would soon come to rule through her. But the deal was almost certainly negotiated for his own future benefit as well. Rodrigo was forty-two years old, and though he was a priest, he was looking to posterity. The scheming prelate, well on his way to becoming a future pope, was starting a family despite his required vows of chastity. He already had one illegitimate son, Pedro Luis, and when he returned to Rome, he would establish a long-term liaison with a young Roman matron named Vanozza dei Catanei, with whom he proceeded to have four more illegitimate children: Cesare, Juan, Lucrezia, and Geofredo. He was an indulgent father and must have known he would need sinecures, properties, and titles to bestow on his progeny. He had a vision of his children returning one day to Spain as landed noblemen. King Juan had promised him lands and titles for his family. Isabella and Ferdinand, if they became the next rulers of Castile and Aragon, would have the ability to guarantee that future.
Rodrigo, who would go down in history as the infamous and spectacularly corrupt Pope Alexander VI, had been converted into yet another invaluable ally.14 The full benefit of the association between Isabella and Borgia would have world-changing implications. But for now in Castile, trouble was brewing.
Archbishop Carrillo realized he had been betrayed and passed over for the cardinal’s job that he most assuredly thought he deserved. His lavish entertainments of Borgia had not produced their intended result. Moreover, the deal had been struck by Isabella and Ferdinand, young people whom he had gone to considerable trouble to back and support, even though he had cast his lot with Isabella and supported and sheltered her in those turbulent years when it was uncertain she would ever reign. Instead the princess and her husband had joined a cabal to grant the highest ecclesiastical honor in the land to a man who had been Enrique’s ally.
How could this have happened? One possibility is that princes—and princesses—are not always notable for their gratitude. Carrillo had been helpful to Isabella and Ferdinand in the past, but Mendoza was essential for their future, and that consideration may have ultimately prevailed. Another possibility is that Ferdinand remembered and resented the years of his teenage frictions with Carrillo. And there was one other possible consideration as well. Mendoza was widely respected and as a human being was simply superior to Carrillo. His judgment would soon prove invaluable to the young couple in myriad ways.
In any case, the decision was made. Pedro Mendoza got his cardinal’s hat in the spring of 1472. The event was celebrated by a procession through the streets of Segovia, with the hat carried by Andrés de Cabrera, Enrique’s mayordomo mayor, or chief of staff, who supervised both the fortress of Segovia and the royal treasury; he was also the mayor of Segovia. He was a leader of Segovia’s conversos and an examplar of the shifting allegiances of the day. Cabrera had been with Juan Pacheco at the farce of Ávila when King Enrique was ritually dethroned, but then had repented and returned to Enrique’s good graces. Now married to Isabella’s childhood friend Beatriz de Bobadilla, Andrés de Cabrera was moving into Isabella’s camp.
By March 1473, power had shifted perceptibly in Isabella’s direction. “All the work that had been done to assure the succession of the most serene princess, my Ladyship wife, and everything that surrounds it has been completed,”15 Ferdinand wrote to his father. All the pieces were now in place—Rodrigo Borgia, Andrés de Cabrera, and Cardinal Mendoza. Isabella had arranged the chessboard. She was ready for her next big move.
NINE
PREPARING TO RULE
The alliance with Rodrigo Borgia was just one prong of a concerted campaign Isabella had undertaken to restore her right to the throne. She conducted this campaign largely on her own, taking advantage of help offered by Ferdinand and his father but also relying on her own resources. From 1471 to 1474, Ferdinand was usually far away on the French-Aragonese border. In his absence, she sought to restore old friendships with members of the nobility, to shore up support in the kingdom’s cities, and ideally to find a way to mend fences with her brother Enrique. She did all these things to make herself ready for a new role as queen of Castile, even as conditions in the kingdom rapidly deteriorated and the magnitude of the task became ever more daunting.
Operating from Alfonso Carrillo’s stronghold in Alcalá de Henares, Isabella moved simultaneously on many fronts. To some individuals, she simply offered new titles and land grants if they would swing their support in her direction. She also astutely courted officials from cities that had supported King Enrique but who had been angered by the way he dispensed urban benefices, suggesting that she would be more amenable to their interests than Enrique had been. Some of them privately shifted their allegiance to her.
She recruited foreign allies as well. In the summer of 1472, for example, she hosted diplomats from Burgundy at a lavish entertainment. Soon they began pressing Enrique to restore Isabella as his successor.
She initiated her own foreign policy by forging links with France, which was at war with her husband’s Kingdom of Aragon, by offering her daughter’s hand in marriage to Charles, the son of Louis XI. “She cultivated the friendship of France,” writes the scholar María Isabel del Val Valdivieso, “so that, when the latter invaded Roussillon in June 1474, she not only did not confront Louis XI, but informed him that she still agreed to the marriage of her daughter to Charles of France.”1 In other words, she was not deferring to her husband’s family’s interests—she was looking to her own.
Isabella’s efforts to establish herself as an independent source of power were both complicated and aided by the civil strife that had erupted all over Castile. The kingdom was in crisis, and although this made it hard for her, or for anyone, to function there, it allowed her to define herself as the savior who would bring a solution to the chaos.
King Enrique’s indecisiveness and weakness were allowing criminals to steal, rob, murder, and rape with little fear of punishment. Co
unterfeit money was circulating everywhere, making people fearful that coins no longer had value. Inflation soared, making it hard to buy the necessities of life. Famine struck, and people began to starve. In Galicia more than fifty castles had been turned into fortified robbers’ dens, and petty warlords would make forays out into the countryside to steal what little food and money could be had from pilgrims, peasants, and travelers.
Much of the dissension was religious. In cities across Castile, hostilities were breaking out between longtime Christians and the conversos, people of Jewish descent whose families had converted to Christianity within the previous hundred years. Many converso families had prospered after this change of faith, stirring jealousy and envy, amid allegations that the conversions had been insincere. In truth, some people had sincerely converted while others had only pretended to convert, and it was often difficult to ascertain the real facts in any individual case.
In March 1473 anticonverso riots broke out in the city of Córdoba. A religious procession was passing through a converso neighborhood when a child tossed some sort of liquid, possibly urine, out the top-floor window of a house, splashing a statue of the Virgin Mary. A blacksmith took offense at this act, which he claimed was intentional, shouting for longtime Christians to avenge the sacrilege by attacking converso families. People took to the streets. A number of longtime Christians, including nobleman Alonso de Aguilar, the brother of Isabella’s young soldier friend Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba, tried to intervene to prevent the rioting mob from harming the conversos, but the crowd turned on them just as viciously. Pitched battles erupted all over the city. The day ended with a massacre of conversos, with men killed, women raped, and homes pillaged and burned.
Isabella: The Warrior Queen Page 15
