IN 1489, FORLÌ gossiped about love. Antonio Maria Ordelaffi, the heir of the former ruling family of Forlì, was twenty-nine, four years older than Caterina. Handsome and unmarried, the stateless noble had knocked about Romagna; displaced from the land of his birth, he had nowhere to call home. Many Forlivesi remembered Ordelaffi with open fondness, while others kept their partisanship more secret. During the tumult following Girolamo's murder, Antonio thought he had found the ideal solution to Forlì's political struggles when he proposed to the newly widowed Caterina via two arrows shot over the ramparts of Ravaldino. Later that year, Caterina decided it was time to take a closer look at this tergiversate suitor. She sent him an invitation to Forlì, which he promptly accepted. The Forlivesi, kept well apprised of everything from the proposal to the invitation—most likely by agents of Antonio—began to speculate wildly in the fields, offices, and piazzas. The initial encounter took place in April, the first anniversary of the murder of Girolamo. As spring wore on into summer, Antonio became a regular visitor to the fortress. Caterina seemed very well disposed toward the young noble; they were close in age, and both were attractive. The Forlivesi began to indulge the hope that their political struggles would be resolved with a wedding. When Caterina took a villa four miles outside Imola for the summer and Antonio joined the family, the townspeople assumed that the deal had been worked out.1 A delegation of Forlivesi went so far as to visit the Ordelaffi family in Ravenna to offer their congratulations.
The chronicler Leone Cobelli delighted in Caterina's newfound romance. As the summer days passed, he noted that the countess had still not returned. He painted banners and standards with their coats of arms intertwined, a gift for the newlyweds, he thought, expecting effusive thanks for his efforts. He was mistaken.
The rumors of the Riario-Ordelaffi wedding escaped the city borders and raced to the ears of Ludovico the Moor, Cardinal Raffaello Riario, Lorenzo de' Medici, and even the pope himself. Irate letters poured into Forlì, criticizing Caterina for her conduct. All the parties were concerned about the consequences of such a marriage. What would happen to the Riario children? After she had fought to save them at Ravaldino, would she be willing to fritter away their inheritance for an Ordelaffi exile? Pope Innocent contemplated using "Caterina's disorderly life"2 as an excuse to rescind his approval of her regency and turn her state over to his own son Francescetto. Cardinal Riario frantically prepared to ride to Forlì. As relatives of Caterina, Ludovico the Moor and Cardinal Riario were the most concerned by the rumors. They had thrown their weight behind Caterina to win her lands back, but not out of love for kin. Each of her powerful allies planned on controlling her territory through her, viewing Caterina as a pawn on the chessboard of Italian politics. While impressed by her determination to keep her states, they doubted her ability to rule. Each man, in fact, maintained a number of spies in her household to keep abreast of all that happened in Caterina's life. As the duke of Milan explained to his envoy Branda da Castiglione, "Now we shall have to govern Forlì, until the child comes of age."3 Caterina, however, would prove to be anything but a docile political tool.
In any case, their fears were unfounded. While Caterina may have succumbed to the charms of Antonio Maria Ordelaffi during the summer months of 1489, marriage was not on her mind. Having just defended her state at great risk, she had no intention of handing it over to political rivals.
Caterina returned from her pleasant summer holiday to the pandemonium generated by the Forlivesi gossip mills. Far from pleased by Cobelli's romantic creations, she put the dumbfounded chronicler in prison. Firing off letters to her uncle and to Cardinal Riario, she assured them that there was no marriage in the works. Then she wrote a formal letter to Venice, the official protectors of Antonio, and complained about the inconvenience and embarrassment caused by the presence of Antonio Maria Ordelaffi and the worries of the duke of Milan. She was well aware that several Forlivesi had gone to Ravenna to congratulate the rest of the Ordelaffi clan. The ruling body of Venice, the Signoria, called Antonio back and gave him a military commission with handsome pay in Friuli, a mountainous region in northeast Italy, where he would be safely out of the way.
Caterina rounded up the principal scandalmongers and threw them into prison alongside the miserable Cobelli. The elegant dance teacher was crushed when confronted by the ire of his heroine. He stammered a weak defense, but Caterina knew Cobelli had consorted with the Orsis after her husband's murder, and though she had tolerated his prying for years, enough was enough. She intended to unleash further punishment on the hapless painter, but Tommaso Feo, her trusted castellan and the savior of Ravaldino, intervened.4 Out of gratitude to Feo, Caterina let the crestfallen chronicler go. Bernardi, who would take over as the principal historian of Forlì, wrote that Cobelli tried to burn the hundreds of pages he had written about Caterina over the years, but his friends stopped him. The book survived, but Cobelli's pleasure in recounting the affairs and events in the life of the countess died in that instant. His accounts would grow more bitter and critical as the years went on.
After the scandal surrounding her purported marriage, Caterina directed her energies toward pious activities. Her own territory of Imola had recently been the scene of a popular miracle. In the spring of 1483, while Caterina and Girolamo had been in Rome attending Mass on Holy Thursday, the day of Christ's Last Supper, a solitary pilgrim named Stefano Manganelli from Cremona was making his way toward the Marian shrine in Loreto, hoping to arrive in time for Easter. The devout man stopped at every image of Mary gracing the Via Emilia, never failing to light a candle to the Madonna. It had been an unusually severe winter, and although the calendar had reached the spring equinox, the weather remained cold. That Thursday, Manganelli arrived three miles from Imola at a locality called Piratello. At the intersection of a small secondary road he saw a rough stone pillar with a niche carved into it. Nestled within this humble setting was a fresco of the Madonna and Child. The pilgrim retrieved a small candle from his sack and lit it, but when he reached to place his offering on the stone ledge of the niche his hand slipped and the candle went out. As Manganelli righted it, the flame returned as if lit by itself. At that moment, the startled pilgrim heard a sweet voice carried on the chilly Romagnol wind. It said, "I am the Immaculate Virgin Mary." Falling to his knees, he asked the Mother of God how he could serve her. She ordered him to go to the next town and tell the people to build her a shrine at Piratello. "If they don't believe you," the voice continued, "show them this." Stefano Manganelli's cape filled with roses, a flower unobtainable in the freezing Romagnol spring.5
The bishop of Imola had been delighted by the news of a miracle on his turf, and Caterina and Girolamo had sent funds to arrange a little shrine around the fresco. People crowded the Via Emilia to see the image, while pottery artists kept their kilns filled with ceramic copies of the Madonna di Piratello. In a time when the hard realities of hunger, illness, and death struck early and often, these brushes with the divine reenergized the faithful and gave them hope that their prayers were heard.
In 1489, Caterina renewed her interest in the Madonna di Piratello. Undoubtedly performing a kind of public penance for the summer's scandal, Caterina sought and received permission from Pope Innocent to build a church on the site. Caterina paid for most of the construction, from the church walls to the bronze bell in the tower. The shrine of Piratello still exists and Caterina's bell tower stands over what is now the cemetery of Imola.
Soon after, Caterina returned to the affairs she had overseen before her husband's murder. During the cold winter of 1489, she sent to Mantua for a large quantity of down to replace the bedding lost when her palace was ransacked, in order to render her new home in the castle more comfortable. Always focused on the future of her children, Caterina also began negotiations to affiance her eight-year-old daughter, Bianca, to Astorre Manfredi, the new lord of Faenza, now age four. The marriage, which would ensure a friendly presence in Faenza, sandwiched as it was between the two Riario territories, was heartily supported by the Bentivoglios of Bologna. Lorenzo de' Medici of Florence, on the other hand, hesitated. Caterina had to send him several pointed letters, demanding a "simple yes or no,"6 before he finally sent his approval. Given that Lorenzo had undone the Sforza-Bentivoglio plan to take Faenza in 1488, his acceptance of the match was considered necessary. Caterina also resumed her exchanges with the duke of Ferrara, still hoping to obtain compensation for her lost cascina and livestock, but to little avail. The powerful lord exchanged gifts and pleasantries but refused to take the countess seriously.
Caterina began to realize that even her own retainers were skeptical of her authority. In October, while checking on the work at Piratello, Caterina stopped to visit her fortress in Imola. She called the castellan, Giovanni Andrea de' Gerardi, and told him to let her enter. He refused. De' Gerardi, like many in Caterina's court, was from Savona, the home of the Riario family. Girolamo had brought many of his kinsmen to Romagna during his rule, and they remained loyal to him and his heirs. De' Gerardi claimed that he held the fortress for Lord Ottaviano and would open only to him.
Enraged and humiliated, Caterina stood outside her own fortress, shouting to be allowed in. At length, de' Gerardi allowed her to enter, accompanied by a few female servants. He had heard what happened to the last castellan who had refused entry to Caterina and was taking no chances.
Once inside, she discovered that like Zaccheo, this castellan had loaned money to Girolamo and now wanted the five thousand ducats he claimed to be owed before he would abandon the castle. He had not worked for the Riario family without learning a thing or two. De' Gerardi insisted that the money be deposited outside Caterina's territory and guaranteed by a letter of credit.
Caterina did not have such funds available, nor did she have an inclination to pay them. She wrote immediately to Cardinal Riario in Rome, outlining the problem. The cardinal instantly realized the danger, should open hostility develop between the castellan and the countess. The castellan would be easy prey for a wealthy Riario enemy to manipulate if the matter was left unsettled. On November 2, the cardinal arrived in Imola, having ridden from Rome in only six days. In contrast to his flamboyant earlier appearances, he brought only a small escort of forty men. Moments after his arrival, he accompanied Caterina to the fortress, where he was able to soothe the castellan and negotiate an armistice. They agreed that Caterina would find the money, and the castellan would allow the countess access to her fortress. To all appearances, peace was restored. But Caterina smoldered in resentment at the castellan's defiance.
The Riario family took the opportunity of the cardinal's presence to enjoy a little reunion. Caterina, Ottaviano, and Cardinal Riario all traveled to Forlì, where they enjoyed the first wines of fall with fragrant roasted chestnuts. Led by the illustrious cardinal, Caterina and all her children, barefoot and dressed in the traditional garb of the penitent, even took a little pilgrimage to Piratello during the month of the dead. As the solemn procession of public repentance made its way along the Via Emilia, it seemed as though Caterina had made her peace with the world.
In early 1490, Caterina started to deal with the harsh realities of ruling Forlì. The first item on the agenda that year was how to return a cash flow to the town. Ever since the murder of Girolamo and the public looting that followed it, the Jewish moneylenders of Forlì had stayed away. Poor citizens without land or other holdings always had difficulty raising funds, and the particularly harsh winter of 1489 had resulted in a negligible harvest that summer. Caterina could certainly sympathize. To raise money for herself and her family, she had repeatedly pawned jewels in Genoa, Bologna, and other major centers where large sums could be obtained quickly. After the death of Girolamo, only the timely intervention of the duke of Milan kept her from losing almost twenty-five thousand ducats in jewels to pay back a loan of a few thousand in cash.
Raising money in the Renaissance was a difficult affair. The large banking concerns of Tuscany served businesses and land-rich nobles. The commercial industries of the age had little trouble finding backers as the competing banking families were always looking for new investments. But usury, or lending money at interest to individuals, had always been considered a mortal sin, and therefore, officially it was difficult for a private individual to take out a loan. Furthermore, peasants and artisans had little in the way of collateral—a few trinkets here, or some produce there—and thus were considered a poor risk. Jews, on the other hand, who by law could own no land, amassed wealth in movable goods and so filled this niche. Most cities had Jewish moneylenders whose capital was underwritten by the local government. But political instability always spelled trouble for the Jews. Everyone knew that they kept cash, jewels, and silver plate on hand, and often a random street riot furnished a sufficient excuse to raid their homes. Their departure, however, produced financial difficulties, for the Jewish community served a practical purpose in the economic fabric of society.
In February, representatives from the four quarters of Forlì came to Caterina, requesting that the countess ask some Jews to move to Forlì and reestablish a cash flow there. While Caterina saw the wisdom of the idea, she demurred. Musing aloud, she recalled the days when Girolamo had called these same men together to propose a Monte di Pietà, a group that would lend money against pawned objects with little or no interest. The count, she recollected, had personally offered to put up five hundred ducats of capital and had invited them to do the same, but she seemed to remember that they had scoffed at the very idea. The magistrates squirmed and blushed under her inquisitive gaze. They stammered promises to bring in some experts in establishing a Monte di Pietà, although Girolamo's vision would not be realized until 1527. Caterina, in return, invited Guglielmo d'Alia, a wealthy Bolognese Jew, to set up business in Forlì.
Within a few weeks, Caterina was wrestling with a different problem. An old Imolese rivalry, dating back centuries to the antagonism between the popes and the emperors, reared its head in the normally tranquil town. The Tartagni family, along with their friends the Codronchi and Viani clans (loyal Riario partisans), had sided with the imperial Ghibellines during the long wars of the thirteenth century. The Mercati family, supporters of the pope, belonged to the Guelph faction.
In February Caterina leased a large part of her land in Imola to be worked by Cristoforo Tartagni. The favor conferred on the family, with its accompanying profits, awakened the old family feud, and on February 26, Giulio Mercati attacked Cristoforo, wounding him in the head with a dagger. Within hours, family alliances had brought dozens of angry combatants to the streets. The governor of Imola, Guglielmo da Tedescho, alerted Caterina, who acted at once. Recognizing the type of bitter hatred that had torn apart Rome when the Orsinis and Colonnas clashed, she promptly dispatched eighty cavalry to restore peace. As soon as the city was settled, she exiled the Mercati family for their role as the instigators of the attack.
Caterina's main worry, however, was the control of her fortresses. Her political survival depended on commanding the main defensive structures of her lands. The castellan of Imola had already revealed his untrustworthiness, and she soon began to doubt even the steadfast Tommaso Feo, the backbone of her defense at Ravaldino. Although he had proved himself unshakable, Caterina knew that he, like Girolamo, hailed from Savona and that his tie to the Riario clan was stronger than his bond to her. Tommaso had witnessed her weakest hours and therefore knew her too well. His friendship with Cardinal Riario also concerned Caterina. The cardinal had been a staunch ally up to this point, but she had no illusions about the Riario family.
Caterina put forward this list of practical reasons to justify her removal of Feo, but her real intention was to install a new man in the castle: her lover. Her designs began innocently enough. In June 1489, Caterina had offered Tommaso Feo her sister Bianca in marriage. Not only would the marriage forge a stronger link with Caterina, but it would probably cause Feo to give up his position, since a fortress keeper could never leave his castle. Most women would not want to live inside what was essentially a prison, so Caterina had presented them with land in the territory of Bosco, assuming that they would move there. But Tommaso stayed. Caterina had to find a less subtle means to dispatch him.
One year later, she renewed her efforts by appointing a permanent castellan to the smaller fortress of Forlimpopoli outside the city. Her choice fell on her stepfather, Gian Pietro Landriani, the husband of Lucrezia, Caterina's mother, who had been in Romagna as part of the Milanese contingent since 1488. When he swore loyalty to her on July 30, no one suspected a master plan was underway.
During the sultry days of August, Caterina purged the fortress of Ravaldino of its keeper using no weapon but womanly wiles. The countess came to the Ravaldino keep on August 30, accompanied by her son Ottaviano and Tommaso Feo's younger brother Giacomo. That warm summer morning, Caterina looked more like a young woman out to enjoy the last days of pleasant weather than a head of state. Conversing amiably, the group enjoyed lunch together in the castle. Caterina, always more interested than her son in military matters, drew Tommaso aside to discuss tactical aspects of the fortress. Tommaso noted that Caterina had planted new gardens, and the countess invited him out to see the results of her handiwork. The castellan hesitated. The garden lay outside the walls of the defensive keep and Tommaso was required to remain within it at all times. Caterina gently assured him that Ottaviano, as well as his own brother, would remain in the keep. He could certainly slip away for a few moments of sunshine. Tommaso, bedazzled by the countess, forgot his wife and his duties as he followed Caterina out of Ravaldino. They strolled in the orchard for a time, laughing and chatting in perfect accord. Caterina was dressed in a sheer linen shift covered with a thin cotton smock; the light material revealed her form as she stood in the sunlight. The scorching midday heat obliged them to seek shade under a fig tree, and the pair savored an impromptu snack of the ripe fruit. After a while, Caterina stood, her golden hair glittering, and offered her arm to the castellan, asking if he would escort her to her rooms. Captivated, Tommaso started to walk toward the little palace on the grounds, where Caterina lived. But as he drew closer to this building, Tommaso stopped dead, the memory of his duty jerking him back to reality. He pulled away, trying to think of how to take his leave of the fascinating woman standing before him. Caterina, unperturbed, feigned not to notice his crisis of conscience and continued to walk toward her rooms, stopping, turning, or laughing as her hand rested lightly on his arm. Slowly, the castellan's last reserves crumbled and he stepped over the threshold into Caterina's residence. Through another door he glimpsed Caterina disappearing into the bedroom. Eager to claim his prize, he started forward, but heavy hands pulled him back as a voice said, "You are prisoner of the countess. You will not be harmed." Tommaso, duped, handed over his sword. A moment ago, he had been anticipating Caterina's warm embrace; now cold iron shackles encircled his arms. The terrified castellan bolted, pushing through the guards and running across the grounds to the moat. He swam across but found the gates locked. In a few moments, Tommaso was recaptured by Caterina's captain of the gate. Feo, the loyal defender and foolish brother-in-law, went to inhabit the prison cells he had so jealously guarded. Caterina was quick to alert her more troublesome neighbors that the castle was now back under her complete control. Writing to the duke of Ferrara, she explained that she could "no longer trust Tommaso Feo," and, in view of "his indecent behavior," she had no choice but to dismiss him. Her letter also served to establish her as a figure of moral rectitude after the scandalous rumors regarding Antonio Ordelaffi.7
The dismissal of Feo was more of a farce than a serious security issue. No one in Imola or Forlì had fallen for the accusation of indecency. In fact, contemporaries hinted that Caterina had taken the fortress from one Feo to give it to another. Giacomo, Tommaso's twenty-year-old brother, was strikingly handsome and athletic, although he had little education and fewer manners. He had lived in the Riario household as one of Girolamo's stable grooms, a mere boy of fifteen when he first laid eyes on Caterina. His blatant adoration for her likely exhilarated her after years of being chained to a husband who barely appreciated her. She had spent decades keeping her emotions in check; her first great passion had a strong effect.
Power intoxicated Caterina. She had regained two of her fortresses. Now she would recapture the third. Giovanni de' Gerardi, the castellan of Imola, wanted money. Caterina promised him four thousand ducats in cash and silver, almost the entire sum he had demanded, to be deposited with his brother in nearby Modena. On December 16, de' Gerardi left the castle, laden with the treasures he had accumulated from the Riario coffers. He rode at such a hard gallop that the Imolesi wondered what "had frightened him so much." Perhaps he was worried that he might suffer the fate of Caterina's other castellans and be imprisoned or murdered, or maybe he was concerned about getting to his promised payment as soon as possible. The castellan survived the trip out of Imola, but when he arrived in Modena he found only a useless letter of credit. In vain, de' Gerardi complained to the duke of Milan of his mistreatment. Caterina had outfoxed him as well. Her castles free, Caterina now installed castellans who were loyal only to her. Her stepfather, Gian Pietro Landriani, was transferred from Forlimpopoli to Imola while the vacated fortress was taken over by Caterina's stepbrother Pietro Landriani. Her most precious fortress—her own home of Ravaldino—was in the hands of her lover, Giacomo Feo.
In 1491 began the happiest period of Caterina's life thus far. She was in command of her dominions, her children were thriving, and she had discovered an outlet for her passion. As always, money was tight. Her letters to her uncle in Milan usually requested some kind of financial support to pay her soldiers or buy grain after a poor harvest. She even had to endure the humiliation of declining a request to lend her tapestries and silver to the duke of Ferrara for his son's wedding, because she had long since pawned them. But despite financial struggles, Caterina's infatuation kept her spirits high. On January 23, 1491, a delegation from Milan arrived at the fortress to pay their respects to the new castellan. In the high tower of the castle facing the city of Forlì, Giacomo and Caterina, the Milanese ambassador, the Forlivese nobleman Luffo Numai, and a few gentlemen gathered for a special ceremony. To Caterina's intense pride and joy, Giacomo Feo was knighted; the Milanese ambassador fastened a golden spur around his ankle and a sword at his waist. Luffo Numai in turn hung a gold chain of authority around his neck. That Sunday morning, Forlì witnessed the transmogrification of Giacomo Feo from the stable boy at everyone's beck and call to "Sir Giacomo."
Caterina's romance blossomed behind the high walls of Ravaldino. As castellan, Giacomo Feo could not leave the keep, so they spent their days within the fortress and in the expansive grounds Caterina had been cultivating. As a diversion from diplomatic letters and audiences, Caterina enjoyed horticulture. During her time at the courts of Milan and Rome, she had encountered not only kings and artists, but also doctors, botanists, and alchemists. She had loved learning about the properties of plants and how to mix different herbal compounds. Caterina dedicated many hours to her "experiments," as she called them, growing more adept at distilling, sun drying, and concocting every day.8 Her gardens included orchards full of sweet fruit that she sent as gifts to allies and friends, and her herb garden contained not only fragrant plants for cooking but also ingredients for medicinal potions and beauty emulsions. Although still young herself, Caterina took pains to keep the attention of her youthful lover. She prepared a special blend of saffron, cinnabar, and sulfur, with which she rinsed her hair and then brushed it dry for long hours in the sun, to keep her tresses shining.
The thrill of secrecy electrified Caterina's new romance. Despite his knighthood, Giacomo Feo was a nullity in the Italian political landscape. He brought no military allegiance and no wealth of land; all he had to offer Caterina was his heart. But as regent for her son Ottaviano, she had to be careful. If Caterina happened to die while her Riario children were still underage, it would be messy and costly to dislodge Feo from the lordship of Forlì. The furtive nature of Caterina's relationship culminated in a secret marriage, which would be revealed only on Caterina's deathbed.9
Caterina's proud letters recounting the knighthood conferred on Giacomo aroused the suspicions of her uncle Ludovico the Moor, and soon enough he installed a spy in her court. Florence also took an avid interest, sending a representative to evaluate potential weaknesses in Forlì because of Caterina's new attachment. In public, at least at first, Caterina and Giacomo behaved normally, trying not to arouse suspicion. But the Forlivesi knew better. Caterina's subjects prudently held their tongues even when they noticed that Caterina no longer traveled to Imola for the hot summer months, but rather stayed in Forlì to be near Feo, who was obliged to remain in Ravaldino.
This decision to stay near her beloved nearly had disastrous consequences for her children. Summer migration to better-ventilated areas spared delicate constitutions the effects of the "bad air" of an urban center. In the summer of 1491 Ottaviano and Cesare fell ill with tertian fever. In the hot weather mosquitoes infested the stagnant moat around Ravaldino, which only aggravated their discomfort. Caterina wrenched herself away from Feo to accompany her children to the better climate of their country house in Imola. Along the way Caterina herself succumbed to fever. Giacomo, lovelorn and impetuous, quit his post as castellan, handing over the castle to his uncle Cesare Feo, and raced to Imola to be by Caterina's side. There was no doubt in anyone's mind now. Caterina and Giacomo were lovers.
Most of her subjects looked upon the affair with an indulgent eye. Many understood that little love had existed between Count Girolamo and Caterina. They had been allies in their political interests, she had borne him six children, but Girolamo had never showered her with affection. They may have thought that the countess deserved a little passion in her life and hoped that the affair would blow over soon.
In some ways the early stages of the affair were a boon to Forlì. Caterina, desiring more time with her beloved, reconvened the Council of Forty, which had been suspended since Girolamo's murder. She also reconstituted the Council of the Elders. It seemed that the countess was ready to relinquish some of her power. Furthermore, she recognized that the presence of peacekeeping soldiers posed an undue burden on the people. Caterina abolished the tax that paid for their lodging and proposed instead the construction of a military quarter outside the walls to remove the discomfiting presence of the military. To pay for the project, she put a tax on grain, but offered those who couldn't afford the monetary contribution the possibility of carrying lumber or digging foundations in lieu of the fees. In the eyes of the Forlivesi, love had apparently softened the countess.
But a small group of her subjects remained concerned. Caterina and Giacomo's open cohabitation in Imola hinted at a secret marriage, a serious threat to political stability. They saw no good in the groom turned knight. Jealousy grew into deep hostility, and by September plans were afoot to murder the countess and her lover.
Caterina habitually made the rounds of her fortresses both major and minor, ensuring that they were well maintained and that the castellans remained loyal. While in Imola, Caterina and Giacomo planned to travel to nearby Tossignano to pay a visit to one of their minor fortresses. But shortly before their departure, two Imolesi informed Caterina that a trap awaited her at the castle; she and Giacomo would both be killed as soon as they were inside. Caterina sent soldiers in her stead and within hours the culprits were apprehended.
Descending to the interrogation cells, Caterina was surprised by the identity of her would-be assassins. Besides her own castellan of Tossignano, they were Marcantonio and Teseo Tartagni, whose family Caterina had honored with the right to work her land only one year earlier, and Domenico Viani, whose side Caterina had taken in the resulting conflict with the Mercati family. Enea Viani, the head of the family, had escaped and found refuge with the duke of Ferrara. These people only had reason to be grateful to her, for she had made them prosperous and exiled their enemies. What could have spurred them to turn against her?
The answers were blunt and unanimous. They were protecting the rights of Ottaviano. Worried that Caterina's favoritism was undermining the rightful claim of the Riario heir, they had intended to take her prisoner, kill Feo, and, as had been done in Faenza, appoint a regency of leading citizens.
Caterina sentenced the four ringleaders to death but commuted the sentence to imprisonment under one of the towers of the Ravaldino fortress. Buried under the pillar of Caterina's defenses, the conspirators saw their sons brought to the castle as hostages to prevent any further uprising by the network of family clans that dominated Imola. Their houses were razed and their wives, the daughters of a powerful Florentine, Cosimo Pallavicini, were exiled from Imola, with their dowries deposited in Caterina's bank vaults.
Caterina had subdued the conspiracy but could not bear it that Enea Viani had escaped unscathed. That he had been given refuge by the duke of Ferrara was insult upon injury. Relations between Ercole of Ferrara and Caterina had improved little since the death of Girolamo. Although the duke and the countess regularly exchanged gifts at the beginning of Lent, Ercole sending salted eels for the long meatless weeks and Caterina offering candied chestnuts and the first fruits of the Romagnol orchards, most of their correspondence was fraught with hostility. Caterina battled endlessly for restitution from the duke. Border skirmishes destroyed her property and bandits murdered her citizens in the Ferrara woods, but the aloof Ercole rarely responded to her complaints.
Upon discovering that her would-be assassin was safely ensconced in Ferrara, she called a halt to the favors and courtesies customary between courts, and bombarded the city with letters demanding the immediate expulsion of Viani. Although Ercole never responded directly, in the early months of 1492 Viani was finally captured and brought to Forlì, where he joined his fellow conspirators in prison. The dukes of Milan and Ferrara interceded on behalf of the Imolese noble, but to no avail.
The Tossignano conspiracy was a portent of graver things to come, but Caterina remained blind to the problems caused by Giacomo's presence. To complicate matters, she needed to conceal that she was pregnant with his child. Her secluded court life within the castle walls went a long way to veil her expanding silhouette from curious eyes, and large, loose robes did the rest. In the summer of 1492, Caterina disappeared from court for several weeks with a bout of fever. She saw no one except her most immediate circle but continued to send correspondence and conduct business at a brisk rate from her bed. By the time the ambassador to the duke of Milan noticed Caterina's absence, she had already been confined to her bed for eight days, and it was several more weeks until Caterina was up and about again. Most likely this disappearance was connected to the birth of Giacomo and Caterina's son, Bernardino, who would join the Riario children in the castle as Giacomo's illegitimate offspring from an unknown mother. It was probably in this period that Caterina and Feo married in secret to ensure the child's eventual rights, although the actual date of their marriage remains unknown. Everyone took the new addition in stride, especially Cobelli, who knew well the dangers of exposing the countess's indiscretions. One elderly artisan, a certain Sante di Sole, foolishly repeated the rumor, in public, that Caterina was Bernardino's mother. His punishment was exemplary. The irate countess assailed the poor man. "What is this I hear, that you have been running off at the mouth about me?" she demanded angrily. "Have you been saying that Sir Giacomo's son is mine?"10 The unfortunate man stammered and protested but, implacable, Caterina ordered the poor man beaten so harshly that he died from his injuries. Caterina, certain that she could coerce her people into keeping her secrets, ordered several other similar beatings. In public, Caterina's maternity of Bernardino remained uncertain until her deathbed, when she finally admitted to the child by her clandestine marriage with Feo and made provisions for him in her will.
In 1493, the Florentine ambassador Puccio Pucci arrived in Romagna and paid a visit to Caterina at her home inside Ravaldino. Although he would officially reside in Faenza, a Florentine ally, his real task was to keep an eye on the countess. On May 21 he arrived for an audience with Caterina and left posterity a picturesque description of her domestic life. Entering the throne room, he found Giacomo perched on a windowsill and wearing a fitted crimson silk jacket. His light brown hair fell in soft curls around his face and hung like tendrils over the collar. The sunlight illuminating him from behind bathed him in golden light and sparkled on the brocade mantle thrown carelessly over his shoulders. Caterina sat by him on a throne decorated with broad wings. Dressed in white damask silk, she looked like an angel, the porcelain glow of her face set off by the black scarf around her neck. "They seemed alone in the world,"11 wrote the startled ambassador, embarrassed by his intrusion upon such an intimate moment. Amid murmurs and caresses, the countess and her beloved Giacomo watched two small children playing. One was the countess's and one was Feo's. Caterina's toddler Sforzino cavorted with their son Bernardino until Sforzino fell and cut his leg and head and was carried away by Lazarus, a Jewish doctor of Caterina's household. The two parents hovered anxiously, no longer concerned about witnesses to their union.
Cobelli was both amazed and disappointed by Caterina's subjugation to Feo. Blaming it on the stars, he observed that "Venus and Mars dominate the skies." The weary chronicler rued the strange transformation of "our countess who we knew as virtuous, wise, and prudent."12