Murder in the Garden of God (34 page)

The crowd cried out, and then there was a profound silence. As the dust settled, they saw two men whose fall had been softened by landing on top of mattresses. Shocked and bruised, Colonel de Nobili and Francesco Ranieri stood up. But the spectators, thinking of the 500-ducat reward, grabbed them and cut off their heads. The third man, Liverotto Paolucci, tried to save himself by clattering onto a neighbor’s roof but was shot and fell. His head, too, was cut off.

Those who had cut off the heads argued violently over which one would get the reward. But the rectors declared they would not give it to any of them because even an idiot could cut off the head of a corpse or a severely wounded person. The reward would go to the canoneers who had bombed the façade.

Seeing the front of the building blown off, a pallid Filelfo asked his master what they should do. “Don’t you see,” Lodovico replied, “that they don’t want to listen to anything?” Filelfo suggested he send someone out to the rectors. “You go,” was the response.
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The trembling secretary tied his white handkerchief to a pole, raised it outside the door, and timidly stepped outside. Officers sprang on him, almost suffocating him, and led him to prison.

At this point, Lodovico turned himself in. He walked outside into the rubble and saw the mutilated corpses of his men. “Oh, my poor brothers, how you are beaten. Have mercy, Signor Soardo,” he said, “and see that they are buried.”
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He was led on foot because all the streets had been barricaded. Part of the crowd followed, or poked their heads out of windows to see the arrogant young man who had killed the duchess of Bracciano and then dared to resist arrest. He marched with a sure step, with his head high, and got into a coach once they had passed the blockades. He asked his captors why there were so many people in arms throughout the city, and they replied, “Don’t pretend to be so surprised because you, more than anyone else, know the reason for it.”
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After Lodovico’s arrest, thirty-three of his men turned themselves in. Lodovico, Filelfo and the three dead men made thirty-eight. Several more were thought to have escaped.

Lodovico was confined alone in a cell with wooden walls, the best one in the jail. But the haughty prisoner didn’t feel that his accommodations were suitable to his dignity. Pacing back and forth, he declared, “Pope Sixtus would have treated me more honorably! But if God grants me life, that will be enough.” He resumed pacing and then cried, “The Senate of Venice can boast of having Lodovico Orsini in prison. Not even Pope Gregory or other lords could do that.”
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Meanwhile, the rectors were diligently searching Lodovico’s house, carrying away his documents and other evidence, which removed any lingering doubt of his crimes. They found daggers covered in dried blood, false beards and masks, and a silver tankard that, according to the testimony of Vittoria’s servants, had been in Flaminio’s room when he was killed. It must have been an ill-starred tankard; it bore the coat of arms of the strangled Isabella de Medici. Paolo Giordano had taken it after he killed her and given it to Vittoria, whose murderers had stolen it. Outside the house, the investigators searched the clothing of the beheaded men and found Lodovico’s letter stuffed into Captain de Nobili’s sock.

Poor Filelfo and the other men were interrogated under torture. Filelfo steadfastly claimed to have had no foreknowledge of the murders, and the other men backed him up. But they also said that Lodovico had planned the crime from start to finish – getting two of the dead duke’s servants to open the door, obtaining masks and disguises for the men, instructing eight to enter the house, and the rest to stand guard in the street. The murder was committed, they agreed, so that Lodovico, having exhausted all legal means, could finally obtain Paolo Giordano’s furniture.

It was decided that Lodovico was too noble to torture, and besides, they had enough testimony against him. Later that Christmas day, four thousand Venetian troops entered the city to guard the gates, the piazzas, and the government buildings. It was feared that Lodovico’s friends might bring an army of bandits to town in an effort to free him.

Chief Prosecutor Bragadino and the rectors sent a messenger to Venice to report the arrests to the Council of Ten and ask for further instructions. What on earth should they do with Lodovico? Would the Venetian Republic dare to execute an Orsini?

Chapter 26

An Illustrious Death

The days of punishment are coming,

the days of reckoning are at hand.

–
Hosea 9:7

I
n the city of lagoons, each year December 26 was a day of festivities. It was the Feast of Saint Stephen, the first Christian martyr. The doge held a banquet in the ducal palace on Saint Mark’s Square for the Senate, the top magistrates, the ambassadors, and their wives. The Hall of the Great Council, 180-feet long and 82-feet wide, was the largest room in Europe and could seat some 1,800 people. The great fire of 1577 had nearly destroyed the hall, but it had been quickly repaired, except for the magnificent wall and ceiling paintings which had not yet been replaced.

The beginning of the banquet was open to the public, who came to gape at the finery. The sparkling silver plate and Murano glass had been crafted to represent the glories of Venetian history. The gentlemen gave the ladies in attendance gifts of fruit, flowers, and pastries. The doge himself walked about complimenting them. Once the spectators were cleared out, music was played, and the feast began.

After the banquet, the doge’s grooms offered each guest a basket of delicious pastries decorated with his or her coat of arms. The gondoliers of male guests entered and took their masters’ baskets out to their gondolas; each would row out to the home of a woman selected by his master and deliver the basket. Venetian courtesans waited eagerly on their balconies, hoping a gondola would stop at their house. The gentlemen’s wives, sitting in the banquet room, must have wondered who was getting their husbands’ baskets.

It was a time of frivolity and flirtation, of pastries and ribbons and compliments. But this year, just beneath the jovial veneer, the senators were smeared with blood and gunpowder. The mood was tense. The banquet was a hurried affair, and the ladies left disgruntled. As soon as the festivities were over, the Senate convened to read the letters sent the day before by Chief Prosecutor Bragadino and the rectors.

As frightful as the murder of Vittoria and her brother had been, in the eyes of the Venetian Senate, Lodovico’s outright resistance to authority was a much worse crime. Though Venice boasted a low crime rate, murders did occur periodically, but resisting arrest was unheard of. When the Senate considered his punishment, no one, not even those friendly with him, dared to ask for a mitigation of his penalty. One senator even suggested that he suffer the disgrace of dying publicly. But unlike Pope Sixtus, the nobles of Venice were not pleased at treating another noble as if he were a plebeian. In the vote which followed, one-hundred-seventy-two were for a private execution, six against, and thirty-one undecided.

The Council of Ten sent the following instructions:

To the Rectors of Padua and to the Criminal Prosecutor of the Commune in that city,

To reply to your letters of yesterday and today, with which you have advised us of your success in arresting Lodovico Orsini and his men, we and the Senate praise your prudence and diligence in executing such an important task… After you give Lodovico Orsini three hours to confess himself and order his affairs, you will have him strangled in prison and order the public hanging of those of his men whom you know to be guilty of this torment, and you will do all this as soon as possible.

The Senate wanted to execute Lodovico as a clear example of Venetian justice for so heinous a crime. But it was urgent to do so before his powerful friends could intercede for him. They were fairly certain that Grand Duke Francesco of Tuscany and Cardinal de Medici were behind Vittoria’s murder, and they were not so sure about the pope. If the Papal States and Tuscany demanded that Venice exile rather than execute Lodovico, the senators would find themselves squirming. Trade relations and military treaties could be threatened if they didn’t comply. It would be far easier, the Senate realized, to apologize abjectly after the deed was done.

The letter continued:

The others can wait a bit for the continuation of the trial, and you may summarily punish with the worst torture those who merit it. Those who seem to have minor guilt, or are not guilty at all, you will not release but send us their names and the summaries of their involvement to await our orders. We advise you to inquire with all diligence about that Filelfo, whom we know to be Lodovico’s agent and very intimate with him, conscious of all his thoughts and orders, to find out the truth.
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At six in the morning of December 27, officials entered Lodovico’s cell. One of them said, “Most illustrious signor, it has always been the firm intention of the most serene doge that the laws of his state be obeyed. And it being his wish that you must die within the next three hours, the most illustrious rectors have chosen me to inform you of your death.”
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Lodovico bowed his head and said to himself, “Patience!” More horrifying than death was the thought of being ignominiously hanged or executed publicly. He asked, “How will I die?” The chancellor replied, “A death worthy of your station, in prison.”

“And will I be buried?” Sometimes the bodies of executed criminals adorned the city gates for several years, with crows picking at the flesh and sparrows nesting in the ribcages. Hearing that his body would be decently interred, he seemed satisfied and shook the chancellor’s hand, saying, “I ask your lordship to kiss the hand of the most illustrious rectors for me. I ask them to do me a favor and allow me to see them, which I would consider to be a great favor.”

The chancellor left to take Lodovico’s request to the rectors and the mayor, who hurried to his cell and offered words of Christian consolation. Lodovico stated that he wanted to confess, and that death didn’t bother him so much as not knowing why he must die. The mayor replied, “You, signor, know the reason quite well.” He shrugged and was silent.

Then he said, “I beg you to do me a favor and take off these handcuffs so that I can write a letter to console my poor wife and write to her of my wishes.”
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The handcuffs were removed from his right hand, though his left one was cuffed to his chair. A monk and priest entered the cell to hear his confession and give him Holy Communion. Then he began to write.

Most illustrious lady, my most beloved consort,

Because it has pleased Lord God that I pass to the other life, for which I thank His Divine Majesty, having made myself guilty of having greatly offended him, I wanted to write to your most illustrious self these few lines, with the only purpose being to ask you, exhort you, and conjure you to take all this with the necessary patience… In addition to this wish, I ask your Excellency to pay all the persons whom I owe money, so that this weight does not rest on my soul.

I ask you also to have Masses said for Signor Paolo of most happy memory for 20 ducats… I ask you to give to Master Paccarone about 20 ducats in gold that I remember he loaned me while I was a student in Perugia, and if it was not so much, give him what he is owed. And if it wasn’t he who loaned me the money, it was Master Eugenio, both of them from Fermo. I ask you also to give to Signor Federico Cesis, my in-law, 17 or 27 gold ducats, more or less, that I borrowed at Perugia when I studied there.

In addition to this I recommend to your Excellency all my servants whom I ask you to protect as I would. I would like your Excellency to distribute 1,000 ducats among them, according to which ones were dearest to me and served me best, which I leave up to you. I ask also that you take care of Rutilio and the page Luigi, who will keep my memory alive, to whom I ask you to give the better part of the 1,000 ducats, because they have served me most to my taste.

I ask you for the love of God to give 500 ducats where it seems best to you, so that God is prayed for the salvation of my soul. I also ask you to let those servants return to their homes who wish to, and that Lelio be recommended.

As for those other gentlemen, I ask you to request that they pray to God for me, and that the kindness that they showed me they should also show to you and to my brother. And because the age of your most illustrious ladyship does not comport that you should remain a widow the rest of your life, I ask and command you to remarry because that would make me most happy, and I am leaving and giving you all the jewels that you have… In the event that you don’t want to remarry but stay a widow, I make you my universal heir for as long as you live, intending that after your death everything goes to monsignor my brother if he is alive, and if he’s dead, to the nearest relative of Monterotondo [a branch of the Orsini family.]

And I forgot to tell you that I want you to give a dowry of 50 ducats to a spinster so she can marry, and to give another 50 ducats to the Capuchins of Padua as alms, and to the parish priest of San Clemente another 50 ducats, which is what I want.

And because I find that I have spent for the most excellent Signor Virginio a great deal here, as you can see by the accounts of Tassino, you should be reimbursed… At the pawn broker there are 20 silver plates of mine in hock for 200 scudi. In the house of Signor Oratio Panicaia is a bowl, a basin, a plate, a spoon, a fork, a knife, a silver salt cellar, and other things.

And because there is no one in the house who can use arms, I ask you to give to Signor Anselmo Anselmi my pistol, my long gun, flask, my money bag, dagger, powder horn, and my seal. The arms I want to be presented to his Holiness in my name by Count Farolfo so that he will remember me.

The ring keep with you always, remembering the person of monsignor my brother to our lord Pope Sixtus, to the most illustrious Medici, and to the most excellent Signor Virginio, so that they hold him in favor and protection.

And because they are allowing my body to be buried in a place that is pleasing to me, put me together with that of my father in Santa Maria of Horto near that of Signor Valerio of happy memory, and at your death you should be buried there with me.

This is what I want and all that I can remember to tell your Excellency at this point. Do me the favor of executing all these things, asking our blessed Lord that he give me peace among the blessed, even if I am a most miserable sinner, and I kiss your hands asking your pardon.

From the Camozzana prison, December 27, 1585.

From your most illustrious consort and servant,

Lodovico Orsino

But he had forgotten some things and resumed writing.

I give to you the necklace that I wore on my neck with the crucifix of relics and the jasper stone, and please wear it for love of me together with the ring. In the house of Count Oratio Panicaia there are 300 scudi or thereabouts inside a chest, the key of which the signor captain here has in his possession. In the same chest is a silver seal with the arms of his Excellency [Paolo Giordano] and letters of his Excellency’s, as well as some of mine. In the same chest there are clothes and other things of silver that go to my wife, as I wrote in the letter. The things of his Excellency go to the hand of Giannuzzo Cepparello to be sent to the grand duke of Tuscany.

The parish priest of Saint Clement started talking about Lodovico’s upcoming journey, but the condemned man couldn’t stop thinking about loose ends and wrote one last letter.

To the most illustrious signora consort,

In reimbursing Tassino, be advised that all the money I had after the death of Signor Paolo Giordano was not sufficient for the expenses. Because I spent some for the visit to Salò, and some for the horses at the blacksmith of Lizza and the carriages to go and return to Venice, and what I spent for my own food. However I want to make this known so that my soul will not be burdened by this, and that in the accounts my expenses are known.
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The executioner and several Jesuit priests had entered the cell as he wrote, and now they began to sing prayers. They intoned the litany of the saints, while he stood and called himself to blame for his sins. He asked pardon from those present for the scandal he had caused, and asked God to forgive him for his offenses. He embraced everyone in his cell, even the executioner, who was appalled at having to strangle a nobleman. “I confess, most illustrious signor,” the man said, “that I am not worthy to put my hands on you, yet I must do so to fulfill the task assigned to me by the minister of justice. However, I ask you a thousand pardons.”
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Lodovico wholeheartedly forgave him.

Many of those present began to cry. With a firm step, Lodovico approached the strangulation chair and sat down. He took off his doublet and untied the red silk ribbon around his neck from which hung a crucifix, then undid his shirt collar, and made the sign of the cross. Handcuffs and ankle cuffs were put on him and tied to his waist. He asked that someone stand next to him repeating “Jesus, Jesus.”

The executioner slipped around his neck a noose of crimson silk, the privilege of condemned nobles, and inserted the stick into a loop in the back and twisted it. As it was being twisted, the silk noose broke, as it always did. Lodovico did not say a word as the executioner replaced it with a thick knotted rope, perhaps because he couldn’t.

At one p.m., forty Jesuits carrying torches accompanied Lodovico’s body out of the prison on an open bier. The corpse was carried around the piazza of the Senate to the cathedral and put in the middle of the church on a table covered with black cloth. Four torches burned brightly, one at each corner of the bier.

The people of Padua, roused to righteous indignation over the murders of Vittoria and Flaminio and Lodovico’s resistance to authority, now pressed around to study his corpse. And true to the Italian spirit, they oozed compassion. This young man, of noble birth, quick intelligence, and good looks, lay there with a contorted face, his hands stiffly on his chest. His courage, which could have made him a hero, had turned him into an executed murderer.

After learning of Lodovico’s execution, the pope called in the Venetian ambassador and greatly praised the republic’s administration of justice. But then he admonished them for thinking they could make use of such evil-doers by employing them in foreign wars. The republic, he said, should be “good with God and not hold account of these rogues, as God alone is the one to send legions of angels in favor of good princes.”
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