style="font-size:15px;"> “The workmanship of your magnificent pendant is extraordinary, engraved using the superlative technique of the French masters of lost-wax casting, madam,” the young diplomat replied promptly, staring at her long neck and looking up into her eyes, deep, proud to belong to a line of glorious but at the same time melancholy warriors, resigned portals of a dissatisfied soul, faithful indicators of the typical unhappiness of ostentatious joy.
Tristano found them captivating, could not look away for a moment throughout the evening and, taking advantage of the temporary absence of her husband, who had been retained by cardinals and politicians outside the room, he dared to invite the lady to a “bassa danza”.
She, since the Milanese period, used to practice various activities, also considered inconvenient for her sex and rank: she was a skilled hunter, she had a real passion for weaponry and a strong propensity for command inherited from her mother, loved to conduct experiments in botany and alchemy. She was reckless and loved risk-takers.
Despite everyone's eyes being on her, she couldn't refuse.
“I love the Greek sculpture of Polykleitos and Phidias. And you, ma’am?” asked Tristano as the dance moves allowed his mouth to near her ear.
“Yes, sublime. I love it too,” answered Caterina smiling.
“Have you ever seen the art collection at Palazzo Orsini? There are priceless marble Herculean bodies,” added the bold knight.
“Oh,” the noblewoman pretended to be surprised and disturbed, “I imagine… You too, sir, should see the paintings of my Melozzo, which I jealously guard at my palace,” she said voluptuously before the music separated them.
For the rest of the evening, the refined hostess ignored the attentions of the young seducer who, on the contrary, saw and felt nothing but the light and smell of that barely touched skin.
The dinner ended and one after another the diners left the successful banquet.
Tristano was already in the courtyard when a page came to him with a folded leaflet…
“The works of my Melozzo are in the loggia on the noble floor.”
And just as he had not been able to decline the invitation of the pope's son, in the same way he absolutely could not decline the invitation of his esteemed daughter-in-law. He went back inside and followed the servant upstairs, where he waited impatiently for the moment when he could finally untie that long blond hair, under which he discovered the intensity of her lips, scarlet like the wounds of the countless sufferings experienced.
Caterina had a complex psyche… and a good seducer manages to observe the complexity of a woman's psyche best during two very particular situations: in the game and between the sheets.
Until the dawn of the new day, he did not spare himself, not even when she confided to Tristano in tears of the violence she had suffered since she was a child.
“Sometimes secrets can only be confided to a stranger,” he said. Immediately afterwards her moving story began:
“I was not the bride promised to Girolamo Riario but everything had been planned so that it would be my cousin Costanza, at the age of eleven, who would unite with that angry animal before God and men. On the eve of the wedding, however, my aunt, Gabriella Gonzaga, demanded that the consummation of the legitimate union take place only after three years, when Costanza reached the legal age. With this condition, Girolamo, in all his fury, canceled the marriage and threatened terrible repercussions on the whole family for the serious shame he had suffered. So it was that, as is done with a chipped ring, my relatives replaced me with the refused cousin, agreeing to all the claims of the despotic bridegroom. I was only ten years old.”
Tristano, stunned, only sensed that he should hold her tightly and wipe away the tears that streamed down her face.
VI
The siege of Otranto
After a few days, having finalized the last details, as planned, the tireless papal trustee left for Naples.
To accompany him on his secret mission was the brave Pietro , who had now fully recovered and was impatient to see the Neapolitan city that his father had spoken about so much when he was a child.
For Tristano, however, it was not the first time and following the usual impertinent insistence of his footman began to tell what happened to him almost three years before:
“I was as excited and curious as you are now. To think that I knew Naples only from an old Benedictine map my late grandfather had showed me to indicate the court my mother had served at when she was young. I joined Fra Roberto, my teacher and guide, who was well known at the time as Fra Roberto Caracciolo da Lecce, in the wonderful royal chapel of Naples and together we rushed to warn King Ferdinando d’Aragona of the imminent danger from the Turks on the eastern coast.
Shortly before a heartfelt letter from the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller had, in fact, informed the pontiff of the attempts of the Republic of Venice to impel the Ottoman Empire to mount an expedition against the Italian peninsula and specifically the Kingdom of Naples. This obviously raised unspeakable concerns not only for the Aragonese, but for the whole of Christianity.
However, Ferrante (the name his subjects gave to King Ferdinando), not only remained deaf to the warnings about the Turks but shortly thereafter, irresponsibly, instead, ordered the removal of 200 infantrymen from Otranto to use against Florence.
Thus, the grand vizier Gedik Ahmet Pascià, after a failed attempt at snatching Rhodes from the Knights of San Giovanni, landed undisturbed on the Brindisi coast with his fleet, where he turned his attention to the city of Otranto. Immediately he sent his legate to those white walls, guaranteeing that he would save the lives of the inhabitants of Otranto in exchange for their immediate and unconditional surrender. The latter, however, not only refused the conditions of the Turkish messenger but unfortunately killed him, sparking the foreseeable wrath of the fierce Ahmet Pascià.
During the summer the Turks burst into the city like bloodthirsty beasts and in a few minutes they overwhelmed all who opposed them.
The cathedral was the ultimate refuge for women, children, the elderly, the disabled, terrified inhabitants, the last bastion where they could barricade themselves when all other defenses had already fallen: the men reinforced the gates, the women with their little ones in their arms, lined up along the cosmogonic tree of life, the religious offered the last holy Eucharist… and like the first Christians they raised a sad liturgical song to God awaiting martyrdom; the cavalry broke through the door, the demons rushed in, raged over the crowd without distinction; in vain the archbishop ordered the infidels to stop but unheeding he himself was wounded and beheaded together with his own; neither women nor children were spared from their blind and murderous fury. Noblewomen were plundered and rendered naked, the youngest were raped repeatedly in the presence of their fathers and husbands held by the neck, their honor and spirit murdered before their body. The most cruel and heinous violence spread from the cathedral to the entire city. At first 800 men managed to escape to a hill but, also blocked by the Janissaries of the barbarian chief, they were passed one by one under the blade of a scimitar. The population was exterminated abominably. At day's end, the five thousand inhabitants were reduced to only a few dozen living, saved in exchange for their conversion to the Koran and the resounding payment of three hundred golden ducats.
Only when this wretched news reached court, did Ferrante understand the enormous sin he had committed of undervaluation
