The House of Medici Page 13
But until now, she had not realised that the abbess had an undeclared political agenda; she wanted to use Maddalena in order to understand better the world of men; how they thought, how they went about their business, and, no doubt, how they could be prevented from interfering too much in the day to day life of this, most civilised, of places.
For that, she was beginning to accept, had always been the abbess’ intention; to ensure that the devotional purpose of the convent community was never compromised, but at the same time, interpreting the Rule of their Order in a manner that made the lives of the nuns rewarding, when they could so easily be crushed and dispirited.
Across the room, she saw the abbess falter, as if she had said and shown too much. Instinctively, she now stood, crossed the room, and embraced the surprised abbess in return. She felt her stiffen, then, feeling the warmth of a human embrace perhaps for the first time in many years, squeeze her back. For a moment they clung to each other. Then she pulled back, to arm’s length, still holding Madonna Arcangelica’s elbows in her hands, and smiled. ‘Partnership. It is a wonderful thing.’
In front of her, she saw the abbess’ eyes moisten, as she nodded her affirmation. ‘Indeed. A precious thing. A thing to be nurtured.’
Maddalena felt the abbess’ thin, cold fingers close on her forearms and squeeze them gently. Then, slowly and reluctantly, she let go and sat back in her chair, pulling her thick cloak around her. There was something new and personal in her smile now. For the first time, the woman and not the office speaking to her. ‘Pray continue. Your story has new meaning now.’
As the abbess spoke, her breath condensed into a little cloud that hung in the air between them. But the cold did not seem to have dampened her enthusiasm for their conversation.
Maddalena resumed her seat and composed herself.
***
MONASTERY OF SAN GIORGIO MAGGIORE, VENICE
29th September 1434
‘I have had a reply. From Antonio Salutati.’ Cosimo waves the letter, but keeps reading.
Maddalena looks at the calendar. That was quick. Hardly more than a week since Cosimo sent Martelli to Florence to confirm the security of the situation.
‘He says we should come. He has consulted widely and it is truly safe to do so.’
***
Within hours, Cosimo and his brother Lorenzo set off for Florence, taking Maddalena with them. Cosimo’s cousin Averardo has a fever and feels unfit to travel, so they leave him behind, in the safe hands of the monks of San Giorgio Maggiore.
They reach Ponte a Lago near Vignola the following day and stay with the Magnificent Uguccione de’ Contrari. He tells them that he and the Marquess of Ferrara have gathered a small army for their protection on the journey, but when they see them, they are surprised to see there are over two hundred horsemen and an even bigger crowd of foot soldiers. They take Mass together, and while they are doing so, a courier arrives, exhausted, from Florence.
Cosimo opens the letter. ‘It’s from Antonio Salutati. He says Rinaldo degli Albizzi and Ridolfo Peruzzi have heard we are coming. He estimates that they have gathered an army of 600 to stand against us.’
Maddalena feels nervous. ‘Should we turn back?’ Cosimo shakes his head for silence and reads on.
‘Ah! Apparently, their nerve failed them and on the advice of Bishop Vitelleschi, they went to Santa Maria Novella.’ He looks up. ‘Pope Euganius IV is staying there, as a fugitive.’
He is reading rapidly now, his eyes scanning the pages. Then he gives a snort of derision. ‘They remained with him that night, and while they did so, their troops, without leadership, dispersed to their homes.’
Maddalena shakes her head. Some of these nobles have ambition, but precious little skill when it comes to leadership. ‘So what’s happening now?’
Cosimo waves to her to be silent, as he reads on. Then he starts to laugh. ‘The Signoria called for troops. Apparently, more than 3,000 infantry, all carrying our colours, came from the Mugello and stood in the Via Larga by the Casa Vecchia.’
Whether because of the letter or due to Cosimo’s expression, Maddalena is feeling more confident already.
‘The Signoria called a parlamento, which gathered in the Piazza della Signoria and immediately authorized a balia.’ His voice starts to rise. ‘It says “Immediately, this met, and with no more than four contrary votes, they have annulled all that had been voted against the Medici last year, reinstating Cosimo and Lorenzo to their former positions.”’
Cosimo’s eyes are triumphant. ‘Right. That’s it. We continue. We will leave tomorrow, at first light. If we ride steadily, we can cross the border on the 6th of October.’
Maddalena thinks back to her own journey the previous year. ‘We can probably do it quicker than that, can’t we?’
Cosimo raises a hand and silences her. His mood now is completely changed; strong and decisive. ‘No.’ He turns to his secretary. ‘Write to Venice and tell them. Then we must go and see the Marquess.’ He turns back to Maddalena. The sixth it must be. Don’t you see? I want to re-enter the Republic on the anniversary of my exile.’
Suddenly the room is full of confident, busy men.
***
Maddalena couldn’t prevent a slight quiver from entering her voice. ‘Encouraged by this letter, we left the territory of Ferrara the following day and reached Cutigliano and then Pistoia three days later. And that is how, on the anniversary of his exile, Cosimo once again stepped back into the territory of the Commune of Florence. At midday we reached our house at Careggi and paused for dinner. The house was completely surrounded by a crowd of cheering people.’
Across the room, the abbess has her hand to her mouth, but her eyes are shining.
‘While we were eating, a messenger came from the Signoria, telling us that a great crowd had gathered by the Casa Vecchia, the Medici house in the Via Larga. Fearful of the crowd getting out of control, the Signoria asked Cosimo not to ride into the city until they called him in. He agreed and waited, and told me to remain in Careggi until he called for me. What I tell you now is based on what Cosimo told me later.
‘At sunset, they were called, and as the main road was blocked with people, Cosimo and Lorenzo, with just one servant and a mace-bearer from the Commune, rode round the walls, behind the Palazzo del Podestà and entered the Palazzo della Signoria quietly, with the noise of the crowd on Via Larga loud in their ears. Here they were welcomed fulsomely, with the news that Rinaldo degli Albizzi and his son Ormanno had been banished, together with Ridolfo Peruzzi and many other citizens who had supported them.
‘And in this manner, Cosimo returned to the arms of the people.’ Maddalena sat back and smiled. Even all these years later, the memory still moved her.
‘Wonderful. Seldom has a citizen returning triumphant from a victory been received with such demonstrations of affection. I remember hearing those words at the time.’ Madonna Arcangelica nodded her head. ‘It was a time of great rejoicing, not only in the city, but throughout the Mugello and even up here on the mountain.’
Her smile began to fade and she looked at Maddalena seriously. ‘How were you received back at the Palazzo Bardi? It was to that house that you finally returned, was it not? I hope the return to Contessina’s influence did not set back all you had achieved whilst in Venice?’
‘Happily not.’ Maddalena kept smiling. She reached into her little casket, selected another letter and began to read it out aloud.
Dear Maddalena,
I am safely delivered to our house. All is well here and the city is quiet. My family are safe and well; Carlo is with Piero and Giovanni, who await me downstairs.
Please go to Cafaggiolo and Il Trebbio and collect my private papers. You know where they are hidden. Then bring them, together with the ledgers and papers we brought from Venice, here, to the Palazzo Bardi.
The studiolo here looks as if it has missed your presence. It awaits you in anticipation, as do I. Come soon.
Cosimo de’ Medici
Palazzo Bardi Thursday 7th October 1434
‘He wrote to you even before greeting his sons?’ The abbess’ eyebrows were raised in surprise.
Maddalena nodded, grinning. ‘Yes. And as soon as I saw the part about the studiolo I knew all was well. It was a code between us. I knew my position of trust in the affairs of the bank would continue unaffected by the presence of Contessina on the floor below.’
‘And the rest?’ The abbess has a look of concentration on her face.
For the first time in her presence, Maddalena reddened. ‘As you have so quickly surmised, it told me that it would be two days before I returned to him in the studiolo, and immediately I knew that in that time, after a year away, he would perform his duty with his wife. But I also knew that he was telling me that not only did the studiolo await my presence, but so, next door to it, did his great bed.’
‘Life as usual. Nothing lost.’ There was a look of satisfaction on the abbess’ face, perhaps accompanied by a hint of wistful envy.
‘Indeed. But more than that. It was life as usual in the sense that we continued the true partnership we had shared in Venice. But more in the sense that we returned to Florence closer than we had ever been before his exile.’
‘Sharing adversity?’ The abbess’ eyes were level and thoughtful.
‘Exactly. Although I had lain with him for over ten years and borne him a son, it was that year of sharing adversity that brought us even closer together; in mind as well as body.’
‘Because of the fear?’
‘In part. Yes. Cosimo had been deathly afraid at the beginning. Who would not be? To him, he faced an imminent and painful death. But once he knew all he faced was exile, that fear went away and in its place he began to calculate how his life might be saved and made to prosper against adversity.’ Maddalena shook her head. ‘But I cannot begin to explain the pain it had caused Cosimo to be rejected by his people. To be exiled after giving and doing so much for the city.’
She looked hard at the abbess, wanting to press home the point she was about to make. ‘The shame and the unfairness of that rejection changed him forever.’
The abbess saw her expression and paused, nodding thoughtfully, before responding. ‘Was he vindictive upon his return? Towards those who had led the opposition against him? Those who had pressed for the death penalty?’
Maddalena smiled enigmatically. She knew her answer would sum up the way Cosimo handled his position of power for the rest of his life, with the apparent and the real always running beside each other, but always a convenient distance apart.
‘He didn’t need to be vindictive. It was all done for him. The city had realised from its short period under the Albizzi that it could not survive and maintain the way of life to which it had become accustomed, without a benefactor. And Cosimo, they knew, was that benefactor. The Signoria were so desperate to please him that they hung on his every sign and expression, and acted upon them. The Albizzi had already been banished. Palla Strozzi, although over seventy, was exiled for ten years, despite, or perhaps because of, Cosimo’s half-hearted defence; whilst the others were sent away or stripped of power by making them nobles, and therefore ineligible for office.
‘But surely, he did not allow everything to continue as before?’
Maddalena shook her head. ‘Cosimo said “the democratic process of government will continue” and everybody cheered, but the reality from then on, became quite different. Cosimo had finally realised that the complicated democratic processes which had been designed many years before to prevent one single noble from taking control were, in reality, preventing the city from being effectively governed at all.
‘So quietly, over the next six months, he changed everything. The squittini ceased; there was no longer anyone to scrutinise the lists of people eligible for office to make sure everyone had a fair chance. As a result, those who supported the Medici remained and their opponents’ names simply disappeared from the borse.
‘These ballot bags, which physically held the names of those from whom positions of authority were chosen, remained under the control of the Accopiatore; theoretically, those who bring together the eligible names from which the Podestà (the otherwise powerless official representing authority), would choose by blind selection. So once again, only Cosimo’s closest supporters found their names going into the bags.
‘Once he could be sure that the priors who formed the Signoria and the Gonfaloniere who led it were all to a man close supporters of his policy, the democratic process could indeed be maintained. And this time, it worked; always coming to the right conclusion, and still by democratic means.’
Maddalena saw an intense look of concentration in the abbess’ eyes and wondered which aspect of what had just been described she proposed to adopt.
‘Clever.’ The expression on Madonna Arcangelica’s face confirmed what Maddalena had been thinking.
She nodded.
‘And quiet. Very quiet.’
Chapter 12
Casa Vecchia
19th December 1457
‘Once things had settled down, did Cosimo’s wife make any attempt to usurp some of your position? She must have been jealous of the closeness that had developed between the two of you during his exile?’ Madonna Arcangelica had arrived early for their conversation and already she was seated.
Fresh snows had fallen and the convent was deep in snowdrifts. More than once they had considered giving up the tower for their conversations, but each time it had been the abbess who insisted. It was clear she valued the occasional escape from her responsibilities and particularly from the need to be accessible to the other nuns at all times.
Although nothing had been said, there seemed to be a general understanding throughout the convent that when the abbess and the Medici Nun retired to the tower for their private conversations, they were not to be disturbed. There had been rumours, of course. On one occasion, the old nuns had let it be known that Cosimo de’ Medici himself had made it a condition of his generosity to the convent that his Black Nun would take over from Madonna Arcangelica in the spring as abbess and that these discussions were their way of handing over the responsibility. But no one had been sure how this shocking fact had been discovered and in any event, none of the young ones believed it. The abbess, meanwhile, had made a mental note.
Maddalena had been thinking of talking about something else, but the abbess’ question took her straight back to her years at the CasaVecchia. Yes she thought. That will do. That will do nicely.
‘Yes she was jealous. More so than ever, in fact, and resentful. But in some way, she seemed to have come to terms with the fact that I still slept with Cosimo.’
The abbess raised a surprised eyebrow, and Maddalena shrugged. ‘Cosimo slept with her rarely by this time and when he did, it was as a duty rather than a pleasure. I’m sure Contessina knew that. Perhaps, having reached the age of forty-four, and by this time being very large, she saw it more as a duty than a pleasure herself. Or perhaps she no longer saw it as important. Whatever the reasoning in her mind, it had ceased to be an issue between us, perhaps because the other jealousy took over.’
Again the enquiring eyebrow, but the abbess said nothing. She didn’t need to. By this time, Maddalena could sense her responses.
‘For years she had satisfied herself that she ran the house and family, and told herself that all I did for Cosimo was to tidy his studiolo and “scribble in his books” as she once described it. But after the year of exile, it was clear from a number of our conversations over the meal table, which we all shared together, that he and I were part of a world from which she was excluded. Worse than that, the outside world—the excluded world, not only encompassed the dealings and fortunes of the Medici Bank, but the political leadership of the Commune and City of Florence as well. So instead of being left out of one world, she now found herself excluded from two.’
‘Two worlds? Why was that?’
‘Almost immediately after our r
eturn from exile, Cosimo began to call meetings in the Palazzo Bardi and the priors would be seen crossing the Ponte Vecchio in the winter rain to fulfil his wishes. That in turn meant that the piano nobile became a public area, with the sala, the largest room in the house: Cosimo’s studiolo and even his camera, the private bedroom where we slept together, were used to meet priors, ambassadors and other visiting dignitaries. So slowly, the banking rooms also became the political rooms, and as a result of my position with the bank, that whole floor became my domain and not hers.’
‘I’m sure she must have hated that. Being excluded from part of her own home.’ Madonna Arcangelica seemed to have developed a strong dislike for Contessina and always appeared to delight in her discomfort in these little conversations.
‘She did, but it was worse for her when we moved across the river, to the Medici House.’
‘Ah!’ The abbess nodded knowingly. ‘The Palazzo Medici. I have heard so much about it.’
Maddalena shook her head. ‘No. We didn’t move to the Palazzo Medici. Not at that time. Cosimo had begun thinking about the Palazzo Medici three years or so before he was exiled, but Michelozzo’s redesign was not completed until after we returned from exile, although most of the work took place while we were in Venice. Michelozzo had showed his loyalty to Cosimo by joining him in exile and in response, Cosimo showed his faith in our eventual return by continuing with his design plans while we were in the north. It was, he said, part of his commitment to himself that he would return to Florence one day.
‘Even though Michelozzo had completed the outline drawings by the time we left Venice, it took another fourteen years to design the building and the gardens in detail, to buy up all the land, to knock down the old houses along the Via Larga and to complete the construction of the palazzo and the gardens. In the end, we did not move there for another ten years, and even then there was work left to do.’
‘Where, then, did you live?’ The abbess looked confused.
‘The Casa Vecchia. Cosimo’s father, Giovanni di Bicci, had died four years before we went into exile and his wife, Piccarda Bueri, who we all called Nannina, died six months before Cosimo left the city; so by the time we returned from Venice, the house was empty.