Machiavelli A Renaissance Life by Joseph Markulin

Author:Joseph Markulin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Biographical, General Fiction, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781936467419
Publisher: Vantage Press, Incorporated
Published: 2012-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Caesar Borgia was not a man who did things by half measures. Years later, writing of the startling stroke at Sinigallia, Niccolo Machiavelli would compare Caesar to the basilisk, a mythical beast who, with soft whistling, entices its victims into its den and then destroys them. But on the first day of the New Year in 1503, at one in the morning, poetic conceits and elaborate comparisons to mythological creatures were far from his mind. Niccolo had to stifle the urge to vomit. He could already taste the acid in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and sent it back down.

The only sound in the room was made by the blood dripping slowly over the edges of the table onto the cool, green marble below. From a darkened recess, Don Micheletto surveyed the ghoulish scene, a look of utter contentment on his face.

“It would have cost Florence two hundred thousand ducats to get rid of them,” observed Caesar nonchalantly. He stopped to consider the figure for a moment and continued, “At least 200,000 to raise an army to defeat them, maybe even more to buy them all off.” Niccolo just stood staring at him in disbelief. The cold man smiled.

“So what do I get from Florence in exchange for my . . .” Caesar paused, looking for the right word, “my . . . gesture of solidarity?”

When Niccolo did not reply, Caesar indicated a vacant chair at the conference table. “Sit and we can discuss terms.”

Were it not for the macabre setting, the discussion that followed would have been a perfectly ordinary discussion, touching on all the now-familiar points of the give and take between Caesar Borgia and the republic of Florence. But Niccolo had to keep turning his head so as not to look into the unnaturally still faces of the silent congregation that bore witness to their colloquium. And he had to take his arms off of the table to avoid the advancing pool of dark, black blood that was spreading out across its surface.

Vitellozzo was the worst. The others evoked varying degrees of terror and pity, but Vitellozzo looked as though some mad demon were caught twisting in him and was frozen at the moment of death.

“You look as though you want to interrogate our friend Vitellozzo,” said Caesar, seeing that Niccolo was staring at him. “But I’m afraid he would have very little to say in his present condition. You know, Vitellozzo was the most cowardly of them all. He groveled at the end. He actually begged to see a priest.”

“Which, of course, you refused him?”

“It wouldn’t have done him any good. But Don Micheletto saved him for last—to give him time to say his prayers, eh, Micheletto?” The little man nodded in silent agreement from his post in the shadows.

“But enough of them,” said Caesar abruptly. “They did not want to be Caesar’s friends, so they became his enemies. And you can see for yourself the fate that awaits Caesar’s enemies. Now Florence must finally decide whether she will have me for a friend or an enemy.

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