Light a stogie, pour yourself a glass of bourbon—neat of course—and settle in for a wild ride through perdition city. Bologna, 1444-1445. A crime noir so gritty and violent it would make the most seasoned wise guys and made-men blush.
Glossary of Noir Terms:
Beat: Patrol
Bull: Police officer
Button: Uniformed Police officer
Bruno: Muscle, bouncer, or personal body guard.
Can House: Whore house
Chippy: Flirtatious
Clodhoppers: Heavy Boots
Collar: Priest
Croaker: Doctor
Do the Walk: Public Execution
Do the Dance: Execution; Hanging
Egghead: Intellectual
Fat Cat: Rich Person
Figure Eights: Nervous Behavior
Fixer: A person who makes arrangements, especially of an illicit or devious kind.
Haircut: Head cut off
Pro Skirts: Prostitutes
Puffing: Shake down
Ship Out: Exile
Shyster: Lawyer
Skid Rogue: Junky or low-life
Smoked: Drunk
Squeeze: Girlfriend or Wife
Trouble Boys: Gangsters
Uniform: Police Officer
Glossary of Historical Italian Terms:
Anziani: Council of 400, similar to the House of Representatives or Parliament.
Berrovieri/Birri: Constable or Police officer.
Castello: Castle
Contado: Country side
Condottiere: Mercenary Captain
Gonfaloniere: Or Gonfaloniere di Giustizia; standard bearer of justice, the highest civic position in the Anziani.
Palazzo: Palatial Home
Piazza: Courtyard or common area.
Podesta: Judge, Attorney General, Chief of Police or local police organization in an Italian City.
Sedici: Council of 16 Elders, similar to the Senate.
Spada: Sword
Storta: Broad bladed single handed sword; similar to a German messer or falchion, with a cruciform hilt, and pommel.
Rastello: Iron latticed gate, usually found at a port of entry into a city.
Regimento: Regiment or regime; the combined iteration of Bolognese civic authority.
Tamburino: Drum
Dramatis Personae:
Narrator: A gruff old beat cop {birri} or constable, whose tired of your shit.
Bentivogleschi: The ruling party in Bologna. Comprised of families that are loyal to the Bentivoglio: typically, the Marescotti, Malvezzi, Caccialupi, Poeti, Sanuti, Griffoni, Caccianemici, Pepoli, etc.
Annibale Bentivoglio: The Signori. The big cheese. The head honcho. Spent most of his life as a condottiere under Micheletto Attendolo, before returning to Bologna in 1438 to become the head of the Bentivogleschi faction.
Galeazzo Marescotti d’Calvi: One bad hombre. Spent most of his life as a condottiere under Francesco Sforza. A consummate soldier and diplomat. He rescued Annibale from a castle prison in 1443 with only five men, and became a legendary figure in Bologna.
Ludovico Marescotti d’Calvi: Galeazzo’s father. A fixer and a shyster. Ludovico used his law degree to shirk the law as much as he tried to enforce it. He was always at the heart of or near the epicenter of factional violence in Bologna.
Achille Malvezzi: One of Annibale Bentivoglio’s best friends. He joined the Order of St. John of Rhodes, the Knights Hospitaller, and became the preceptor of the Bolognese commandery {Order of St. Mary of the Temple; Templars} prior to his arrest with Annibale in 1442. He was locked in Compiano, while Annibale was imprisoned in Varano, and freed after the battle San Giorgio in 1443.
Caneschi: The rival faction of the Bentivogleschi. Previously, they had ruled in Bologna from 1421-1435, and coveted the title of Signoria.
Battista Canetoli: Sketchy, cunning, conniving; he was always on the sorry end of a bad plot. At times he was real Wile E. Coyote type, but on occasion he got it right, and when he did—boy, look out!
Ludovico di Lambertino Canetoli: The leader of the Canetoli faction. A prudent and wise man with the patience of a saint, and the disposition of the devil.
Francesco Ghisilieri: A loyal adherent to the Caneschi faction, and a bit of an agitator. The Ghisilieri family were afforded their status as Bolognese nobles by Giovanni I Bentivoglio in 1401, when he knighted two members of the family for helping him lay claim over the city.
City of Towers
It was the 23rd of August 1438, a Thursday. The rain was rolling off the red brick tiles of the Palazzo Podesta like the cadence of a tamburino, but the rata-tat rhythm wasn’t the only beat moving at the heart of the City of Towers that night. Annibale Bentivoglio, the Signoria, of the city and his cousin Ludovico were about to make a big mistake.
The Rumble from the Buttons at the Saragozza gate was that they’d been ordered to stand down and request the presence of Annibale if those goons the Canetoli showed their mugs at the rastello. Something wasn’t right. They’d been given the gate for a good reason in ‘42—they were Trouble Boys; real Gangsters. Bologna would be better if they just did the dance so we could all move on, but it seems the Signoria had other ideas.
Bolognese Gazette
23rd August 1443:
Peace Between the Bentivoglio and Canetoli At Last!
In an attempt to reunify Bologna, Annibale and Ludovico Bentivoglio petition the senate to repatriate the Canetoli family. Galeotto, Ludovico, and Baldassare Canetoli are the first to return. Upon their arrival they visited with the Anziani to receive the terms of the negotiated truce facilitated by the Bentivogleschi—who, on account of the benign, loving and sweet nature of Annibale and Ludovico, say they’re willing to abide the potential danger of such an arrangement.1
It didn’t take long for the trouble to start. Saturday the 25th of September, I got flagged to the Palazzo of Maestro Pietro Giovanetti, a real egghead, and respected Doctor. The Bulls at the door told me that the Doc had been poisoned. I could tell by the look on their faces that something else was amiss. Sure enough, when I stepped into the palazzo and doffed my cap I saw why they were out there doing figure eights. Two men in Canetoli livery were waiting outside the Doc’s bedchamber, and the choppers on their hips let me know that they weren’t exactly the friendly type. I smiled at them anyway.
When I slipped past the Bruno’s into the Doc’s room, I found him lying in bed, lips purple, talking to the notorious Battista Canetoli himself, a man with more rap than virtue. They both looked at me, then carried on with their conversation as if I wasn’t there.
Ol’ Pietro put his hand on Battista’s, and said, “I urge you to live in peace and keep the promises you made to Annibale. If you do this it will be good for you, and if you don’t—it will be your ruin, and the ruin of this city.”
The Doc started coughing up something vile. Battista pressed his forehead into the Doc’s trembling hand, kissed it, and rose from his chair. He turned and shot daggers at me as he dusted off with his goons. I shrugged and got my report from Giovanetti’s Croakers.
Bolognese Gazette:
25 September 1443
Giovanetti Poisoned: Who Killed the Good Doctor?
The Honorable Pietro Giovanetti, an excellent doctor renowned throughout Italy, became seriously ill. Preliminary reports indicate it may have been poison. He called Battista Canetoli to his side and urged peace with the Bentivogleschi before passing on the 25th of September. He is scheduled to be buried with honor in the Church of San Francisco on the 28th of September.2
War meant peace in the streets. With all of the culpable cut-throats and fast-twitch fighters off fencing the armies of Francesco and Niccoló Piccinino, there weren’t enough busy bodies around to cause trouble.
While the boys were away, the Anziani elected Battista Canetoli as the Gonfaloniere di Giustizia in a conciliatory gesture of peace. It seems that greaseballs like that are always destined to rise to the top—like oil in water. In response to the vote the Canetoli family threw a massive party to celebrate their political transcendence. I was tasked with providing security.
All the dames in the city turned out. Seventy of the finest broads I’d ever seen rolled into the Palazzo dressed to the nines.3 I couldn't tell if they were pro skirts or just the Caneschi's squeezes, but boy were they chippy. I spent more time telling the Bulls to stand down than I did watching the street; as if they didn't spend all their free time in the can house anyway.
The city remained peaceful, until the 12th of November 1444, when Niccolo Piccinino left his army in the hands of his son Francesco while he went to Milan for business with the duke. Francesco got smoked by their heated rival Francesco Sforza at the battle of Montolmo. A personal letter to Annibale and the Magistrates from Francesco Sforza was circulated around the city, detailing the totality of the victory:4
Bolognese Gazette
Extra! Extra!
Sforza Smashes Picconino at Montolmo!
12 November 1444
Magnificent and powerful Lord,
For your joy and amusement we wish to inform you that today, Wednesday, the 19th, we went to meet the enemies who were in Monte dell’Olm, and with grace from the most high God we defeated and smashed them in such a way that there is no longer any memory of them, because almost all of them were taken; among whom were Francesco Piccinino, the bishop of Fermo {Papal Legate}, and many other men of repute. As a result we obtained Monte dell’Olmo, Tollentino, Sanseverino and many other places. We hope, in short time, with little resistance, to have conquered the entire Marche. It was our pleasure to communicate with your Magnificence our joy at such a victory, and we wanted to let you know that we’ll keep you updated daily with more fresh and prosperous news.
Ex nostris victoriosissimis castris apud Motem Ulmi, 19 August 1444. FRANCICUS SFORTIA.
Once the boys got back home, there were a number of feats and celebrations to round out the year, first for the defeat of the Picconino, then to commemorate the five-year alliance between Florence, Venice and Bologna, but none were bigger than the annual San Petronio Day feast on 4th of October.
I had the grave misfortune of working the beat that day. Now, I say that because festivals are always the epicenter of trouble, some cock-sure peacock is guaranteed to fluff his feathers at the wrong lady or try to prove his manhood and start a blood feud that lasts for generations. It never fails.
After breaking up a fight that started over a cup of spilled Lambrusco, I needed a breath of fresh air. I walked down to the lists where the jousts were in the process of wrapping up. Galeazzo Marescotti d’Calvi was about to ride against Ludovico di Gasparo Malvezzi for the crown. The ground trembled as their chargers thundered down the list and the air choked with fine dust. Their lances lowered in proportion to the narrowing distance between them, then shattered into a thousand splinters on their fancy armor. Both riders remained in their saddles. The crowd cheered in adulation.
Galeazzo Marescotti d’Calvi might’ve been the most popular man in Bologna after his daring rescue of Annibale Bentivoglio and his heroism in the subsequent fight to liberate the city from the rule of Francesco Piccinino. Yet, as I looked into the eyes of his cold expressionless visor something about him struck me, like we were fated to share some terrible experience with one another.
As the knights spurred their mounts into a canter my mind drifted to the Canetoli—to Battista in Giovanetti’s room. I watched Galeazzo’s magnificent form bear down on his opponent. Here was a man that was so principled in his love for Bologna, that when the regimento put the prospect of a Canetoli reconciliation to a vote back in ‘43, he walked into the halls of government with a billhook and almost took the head off of Giovanni di Giacomo Griffoni to sway the vote.5 Crr—Crack!
The man was a loose cannon.
Both riders held their seats, it would all come down to the final pass. Their seconds handed them their lances, and they reared their warhorses into gate. Long tense moments passed before the iron heads of their weapons were punched home with the force of a 600 kg beast going 25 km an hour. Galeazzo Marescotti flew back with the force of Malvezzi’s well-aimed thrust and was unhorsed.
I shook my head and walked away—something about that man just didn’t sit right with me.
Unfortunately, as the sun set on the festivities and the libations set-in, the party got hot. Six uniforms were wounded, and one was killed when the Odifredi brothers—Caneschi, took exception to being told to shove off and pulled steel on the buttons.6 Of course none of them did the walk, they were too important, so instead they were told to ship out—if it were the other way around heads would’ve rolled, but that’s justice for you. Blind as a bat.
Bolognese Gazette: Sports Column
4 October 1444
Malvezzi Wins It!
The Palio was moved to the feast of San Luca at 6pm next Sunday. The Joust of San Petronio featured Ludovico and Astore di Gasparo Malvezzi, Galeazzo and Tadeo di Lodovico Marescotti d’Calvi, Floriano di Gratiolo da Tossignano, Giovanni di Antonio da Monterenzoli, Filippo di Jeronimo Bolognini, Domenico del Villano Pellacani, Antonio di Bolognino dalle Fibbe. Ludovico di Gasparo Malvezzi had the honor of winning the prize when he unhorsed Galeazzo Marescotti. The judges were Giovanni di Ligo Lodovisi, Filippo Podesta, and Niccolo Sanuti.7
Petty disputes always tended to spill over into real violence in the City of Towers. I don’t know if this one started with some smoked skid rogue or punk puffing up the wrong patrician, but things got ugly real fast. One of the uniforms grabbed me as soon as they’d heard about what was going down and said that I needed to get to the scene immediately. When I arrived, I saw what all of the urgency was about.
Carlo di Gasparo Malvezzi was lying on the ground with a gut wound, spilling black blood and bile on the cobbles of a dodgy alley in the Porta Ravegnana district. Beside him nursing a sword cut to the leg was Michele di Marino, known as da Pisa, one of the Marescotti five that rescued Annibale Bentivoglio from Castello Varano. Whatever happened here wouldn’t be the end of it.
As I was trying to crab some details out of Ol’ Michele, I heard commotion coming from the Buttons I posted at the street front. I told Michele to hold that thought, and walked over to see what was going on. I should've known.
Ludovico and Galeazzo Marescotti were arguing with the Bulls—armed to the teeth. Behind them were Achille and Virgilio Malvezzi craning their necks to see what was going on with their cousin Carlo. I told the boys to let the Malvezzi through, then walked over to deal with the Marescotti.
Galeazzo was incensed. He had every right to be. They all did. Belly busters were tickets to a long painful death. Barring a miracle from the Madonna, it was roses for Carlo. Michele would be fine; he was already up and hobbling around. With everything that was going on, I felt for all of them, I truly did. Boy I’ll never forget the look that Galeazzo gave me when I asked him to stand down and told him that I’d take care of it—there was murder in those eyes from a man who’d done his fair share of murdering.
It’s hard to wash away blood stains.
Galeazzo Marescotti had more than most. I’ll never forget the day in ‘43 when Francesco Piccinino’s forces had more-or-less been defeated and all that remained was the castle garrison in Galleria. One of Piccinino’s captains, a fella by the name of Fillipo Schiavo, was still in town; this was the same sad sack that’d dragged Annibale to Castello Varano in chains. He tried to bribe his way out of the city with a few Ducats, but the uniforms on the street picked him up when they found him crawling through a shit hole under the markets. He got shackled and dragged to Annibale’s Palazzo where he had the grave misfortune of getting interrogated by Galeazzo Marescotti. Schiavo couldn’t help himself and kept shooting-off at the mouth—so, Galeazzo pulled his spada and made mincemeat of his organs.8
The uniforms in charge that night weren’t overly concerned; matter of fact, they’re the ones that dumped the body in San Giovanni del Mercato. Of course, the violence didn’t end there; after flaying Schiavo ol’ Galeazzo ran into Carlo di Ludovico da Pisa on his way home, on the Via di Mezzo in Strada San Donato—the fat-cat district. Carlo’d been implicated in the murder of one of Galeazzo’s good friend, Matthio Griffoni. I don’t know if they shared words, or what, but Galeazzo ran him through more than a few of times, and left him for the carrion.9 Word from the boots was—it wasn’t pretty.
This was a hard man.
When I was done with my reports that night, I got word that the whole dust-up in Ravegnanna was orchestrated by a low-life named Michele di Giorgio Pellizzaro, who may or may not have been brought into a dispute over whose new Palazzo was more opulent between Carlo Malvezzi and Zaccharia di Bartholomeo da Fiesso, a Canetoli man. Carlo held on for ten long days before the curtains—tough kid. The city made a big show of Pellizzaro to try and appease the parties that be. He got a haircut the day after Carlo was buried in San Giacomo. I knew this was just the beginning, they did too, but all you can do is try.
Bolognese Gazette: Crime Column
November 30th 1444
Murder in Ravegnana: Is the City Safe Under the New Podesta?
Carlo di Gasparo Malvezzi, a very modest and virtuous young man of great repute in the city, left this mortal life and rose to the eternal cloisters. Michele di Giorgio Pellizzaro was taken into custody and executed.
On the last day of November, Gasparo Malvezzi’s son was wounded and died within ten days. With him, and also wounded, was Michele di Marino, known as da Pisa, one of the five who freed Annibale Bentivoglio from prison.
I met a Norman guy one time in Naples that told me a story about giant snake that eats his own tail, Jormungandr—or something like that. He said the reason why it always feels like things never change is because we’re stuck in a perpetual loop of history, like the snake eating its tail—until the end times. Feuds were the same way. Self-perpetuating bloodshed that just feeds more bloodshed until some great cataclysm resets the cycle all over again. We all knew what was coming next, just not when.
Fifteen days after Carlo was laid to rest, and Pellizzaro’s head rolled off the block, December 15th, ‘44, I relieved some of the uniforms I had posted on the Canetoli Palazzo. You could never be too careful. It was ninth circle of Hell cold, so the boys deserved a break. I wish I wouldn't have done that.
The problem with working a post instead of walking the beat, is when you're on the beat the crime happens when you've already walked by; when you're on a post, there's no plausible deniability—you’ve just gotta jump in and deal with it. Then there's the weather, and the boredom. When you're standing there baking in your armor or freezing your nuts off, your mind turns inward, and your imagination starts to play tricks on you—you just stand there and ponder what fresh Hell may come your way. We call that the place.
I was in the place when I heard the distinct pitter-patter of heavy clodhoppers on the cobbles outside the Palazzo. I was hoping that it was just my mind playing tricks on me or some beardless boys playing condottiere in the dark, but it wasn’t. A man I knew as Giovanni di Lando, aka d’Ambrosino, one of the Canetoli’s Brunos, was running for his life. Hot on his heels were ten men—ten Marescotti men and the godfather himself, Ludovico Marescotti d’Calvi.
Ludovico was no stranger to factional violence; in ‘12 he was exiled for staging a coup with his fellow law professors at the University of Bologna, then again in ‘21 for knocking off a bunch of Canetoli men after Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio got his walking papers, and in ‘38 he stitched together the militias that inevitably took down Francesco Piccinino, when the Marescotti Five returned from Varano with Annibale. This man was a professional—and killing was his business.
Before I could reach d’Ambrosino, a Marescotti Bruno tripped him with the falcone of his ronca right in front of the door of the Canetoli Palazzo. They were on him in an instant, pummeling him with fists and pommels. My heartbeat was in my ears at this point. The fact that they weren’t using their edges meant they intended to make a symbol out of poor Giovanni. I commanded them to stop, but who was I kidding? One man with a partisan and rotella against ten experienced killers. I didn’t like my chances.
Four Brunos kept me at sword point while two more held d’Ambrosino up by his arms in front of Ludovico Marescotti, and the last three kept an eye on the old man’s flanks. Things were about to get real ugly.
When you wanted to impress the dames, or scrap with some sense of honor, you carried a spada; when you wanted to butcher a man, really make ‘im feel it—whatever it was—you carried a storta. When things got hot between the families in the City of Towers the stortas came out, and ol’Ludovico brought his storta.
I tried to reason with him, to tell him what would happen if he iced d’Ambrosino like this, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Giovanni was a marked man; he'd probably been fingered by Michele da Pisa for taking part in Carlo’s murder. All I could do was say my piece and watch.
Ludovico started with d’Ambrosino’s leg, a target that looked awfully similar to the wound Michele took in the alley, except this time—with a storta—the leg was lopped clean off. As d’Ambrosino shrieked in pain, I looked around. There were a few Caneschi on the rooftop of the Palazzo, but they apparently weren’t bothered by what was going on in the street. Ludovico moved on to Giovanni’s hands and feet, before working his way up to his torso, ears, and eyes. Finally, he put the poor bastard out of his misery and just cut his head off.
The culprits hightailed it from the scene as soon as their blood lust was satisfied and left me standing there with the remains. Ludovico Canetoli, the signori of the Canetoli family, eventually emerged from the palazzo with his guards. They were jazzed up the moment they set foot on the via. There were blood and body parts everywhere. One of the guards tried to get in my face about not getting involved. I told him there was nothing I could do. He didn't care.
I gave my report to the Podesta later that evening. We both knew that Ludovico Marescotti was untouchable. Truth is, the law only works to temper the ambitions of weaker men.
Bolognese Gazette: Crime Column
15 December 1444
Factional Violence Surges: How Long Can it Last?
On 15 December Giovanni di Lando, known as Giovanni d’Ambrozino; partisan of the Canetoli, was cut to pieces by Ludovico Marescotti, who killed him in the Piazza almost at the door of the Palazzo of Ludovico de Canetoli, the Signoria of the family.10
The 23rd of February 1445, Annibale Bentivoglio made a big announcement: he was going to finally entomb his old man with a sarcophagus fitting of his legacy in the Church of San Giacomo. It’d been ten years since his untimely death at the hands of Danielle the Bishop of Concordia and his thugs. For the unacquainted, Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio was universally loved in the city of Bologna. He was a doctor of law who became a condottiere and freed the city from the tyrannical reign of the Canetoli family. So maybe not universally loved—the Canetoli hated him. The citizens though, the people that really mattered, they loved him. They loved Annibale too. As you can imagine, with the tensions running high between the Bentivogleschi and Caneschi, security was going to be tight.
The big reveal was scheduled to take place on the 25th. I briefed the bulls, and gave them their orders. The challenge of an event like this wasn’t just the sheer number of people who were going to flow through the basilica that day; a quarter of them, the opulent minority, would have license to carry weapons for their own protection. It was a privilege only the rich and well connected could afford, but boy did it make our jobs difficult—they were the ones most likely to cut each others throats. One would hope that an event like this could remain peaceful, but in the City of Towers anything was possible.
Seeing as all the Giovannis with swords were going to be in the front half of the cathedral, I took a few buttons and posted up by the dais. It was a beautiful ceremony. A real tear-jerker. After the benediction folks started mingling. I’m sure most of it was benign, but this was the part that was most stressful for me and the boys. Sight lines were restrained, pathways were blocked, it was controlled chaos. I tried to keep tabs on the troublemakers: Marescotti and Canetoli family members—Bentivogleschi and Caneschi faction adherents. Problem was, that was the veritable majority of folks in attendance.
In moments like these you had to just focus on body language: crossed arms, flailing hands, forward gestures, intense stares, a furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, and the like. Fortunately nothing came of it, and things remained peaceful. This time.
Bolognese Gazette:
25 February 1445
A Worthy Monument
On February 25th, Thursday, Annibale Bentivoglio, son of Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio revealed a chapel and altar he had built for his late father in the Church of San Giacomo behind their choir.11
A month later I was asked to work another security detail, this time at the Piazza Maggiore for a meeting of the regimento. That meant members of the Anziani, a body of 400 elected citizens, and the Sedici, a council of 16 lifelong bureaucrats, were getting together to debate a controversial bill. As any conscious human being can attest, politics was never a civil affair. To further complicate matters, any man worth his salt came strapped with a spada to show his status. Through all the chaos and moving parties, the same rules applied as in the cathedral; look for body language and react accordingly—but don’t cause a scene.
I picked up on something. Matthio di Bernardino was getting into it with Gherardo dal Capello. A real heated exchange. I started to make my way over to them, and alerted the buttons, but it proved difficult to navigate my way through all the polite conversation without causing a stir. My peepers were locked on the target when I stepped on the hem of Romeo Pepoli’s robes and I was shocked back to reality when one of the Pepoleschi asked me to apologize. I was in the process of giving my due penance for stepping on his fine silk duds that cost more than my annual salary when I heard a loud shout. Shit.
Bernardino had drawn his sword and was looking to pop old man Capello. I tried to push my way through the crowd, but now everyone had their backs turned to me.
Fuck society. I dropped my shoulder and started bulling my way through. Just when I reached a place where I could bring my own steel to bear, Gherardo dal Capello’s son came up behind Bernardino and took three good whacks at his noggin with a storta. Blood and brain matter sprayed everywhere. So much for those fine silk robes.
Young Capello took off before we could get to him. I chased after him with a few bulls, and tracked him to Palazzo Marescotti. Where else? When we got there we discovered that we had a new problem on our hands. The whole Marescotti household and their legion of cut-throats were in arms, about 50 of ‘em, and they were moving toward the Palazzo of Ludovico di Lambertino Canetoli. Things just got real serious. With all the berrovieri in town stretched thin, it was going to be a tall task bringing this to a peaceful resolution. I sent one of my bulls to ring the bell of San Giacomo to raise the militias.
Me and my last uniform, a good kid named Iacopo, young’n that just had his first whelp, we kept our eyes on the Marescotti. They made a good show of themselves in front of Canetoli’s place, beating on doors, breaking windows, and shouting profanities, but they didn’t have the gall to bust down the door and Ludovico sure as Hell wasn’t about to open the fancy porta di ferro of his Palazzo. Thank God.
Eventually they had enough of harassing Ludovico Canetoli and made their way to the Piazza Maggiore. They started chanting, “Long live the people and the guilds,” the traditional war call of liberation in Bologna. At this point we had about 50 uniforms tailing ‘em, but when we made it to the communal square the whole regimento was still out there, and proceeded to shout the Marescotti down.
While the blowhards were busting their gills, the militias showed up. 500 men led by Battista Canetoli from one side and another 500 led by Annibale Bentivoglio from the other. It was a real Perugian stand-off. Unsurprisingly, the Marescotti saw the error of their ways, and went home. That didn’t alleviate the tension though. It took Battista and Annibale delivering fine speeches about the peace of the city for each side to lay down their arms and call it a day. What a day it was.
Bolognese Gazette: Front Page
25 March 1445
Chaos in the Streets! The Bill Passes Despite the Bloodshed!
On the 25th of March, a Thursday, Matthio di Bernardino dalle Correggie was at the ballots, it’s unknown what was said between he and Gherardo dall Capello, but both men were reported to have been seized by anger. Matthio had drawn his weapon to wound Gherardo, when Gherardo’s son arrived and immediately gave Matthio three mortal wounds with his storta to save his father’s life.
Matthio was left for dead while Gherardo’s son fled to Palazzo Marescotti to find refuge. When word of what had happened reached the Correggie they gathered many friends to take revenge. Whereupon the Marescotti, who were 50 in number, took up arms and impetuously marched on the house of Ludovico di Lambertino Canetoli in San Mamolo. Armed, they started beating on the doors and windows with abusive words, demanding that the Canetoli and Correggie come out; but Ludovico, being a wise and prudent man, decided to avoid further tumult in the city, and despite having a number of armed men at his disposal never answered a word.
Finally the Marescotti departed and from there proceeded to the square shouting, “Long live the people and the guilds!” to excite the people to take up arms. No one moved except the elders who descended upon the square. They chased the Marescotti away, against their will, and forced them to return home without honor. Meanwhile, Battista Canetoli who had gathered 500 men to move on the square, was met there by Annibale Bentivoglio who had also gathered 500 armed men. Both hearing that the Marescotti had been driven off, and that the square was free, laid down their arms.12
The madness didn’t stop there. Bernardino’s blood and brains had barely dried on the bricks of the Piazza when we heard fire bells in the Via Castiglione District. Every available man rushed over to put out the flames. It was Hell. Palazzo Pepoli was an inferno. I was marshaling the buttons bringing water to the bulls chucking buckets when I was approached by a bishop.
There comes a time in every man’s life when he becomes separated from God for this, that, and the other before time and the inevitability of death become too much for him to bear. I was too callused to care about that last part, so the presence of His Holiness really pissed me off. I snapped at him, and told him to pick up a bucket or shove off. He persisted. Insisted that I needed to get to the Bishop’s Castello right away. I pointed at the flames, and informed him that if we didn’t put out this fire it would consume the whole city. He said that there had been a murder. I stopped dunking my bucket in the well cart, and looked at my broken reflection consumed by the raging flames devouring the Palazzo. The devil had come to Bologna.
I crossed myself.
I put Iacopo in charge of the fire and took two uniforms down to the Castello. There was blood everywhere. The collars who had the constitution to cease their lamentations and form coherent sentences told me that the order had been split between between pro-Canetoli and pro-Marescotti camps. Of course. When things went down in the Piazza, the contention in the Castello became equally concerted. Finally one of the clergy snapped and punched his brother’s ticket to heaven with a stiletto—ten to fifteen times judging by the wounds.
I interrogated all ‘em. One of the brothers ended up saying something that made way too much sense. After the murder, the frenzied blood soaked cleric took off to Palazzo Pepoli with his crew. Shit.
The buttons and I raced back to Via Castiglione as quickly as we could. Back into the fire. When we arrived the bulls had contained most of the inferno, but I could tell by the look on their faces that something had gone sideways. I asked them where Iacopo was, told them I needed a report. One of the senior men stepped forward and told me what had happened. My heart sank.
Iacopo’d heard a cry for help and decided to be a hero. When he went in the roof collapsed. The bulls found his body buried in the rubble with a little girl clutched in his arms. He was gone.
27 souls perished in that fire. Make it 28.
We interrogated everyone in the vicinity. Turns out the Caneschi found out about the murder before anyone else, and decided to take matters into their own hands. After they couldn’t fight their way into the Palazzo they decided to condemn the murderous cleric to Hell by burning the place to the ground. They succeeded.
A few days later when I was on my way to bring food and supplies to Iacopo’s widow and newborn son, I heard the news. All those responsible for the fire had been exiled under the penalty of the gallows, and the Marescotti had been banished from Bologna for occupying the square. Word was, Galeazzo Marescotti had shipped off to Venice. Maybe there could be peace after all.
Bolognese Gazette:
March 27th 1445
Dante’s Inferno: What Hell
The gentlemen of the Bishops Castello were divided into two camps, it so happened that one of the parishioners was murdered, and the one who killed him fled with his party and fortified himself in the Palazzo of the Pepoli. Understanding this, the Caneschi took up arms and went to besiege the Palazzo. After many hours spent trying to fight their way in, unable to conquer it, they set fire to the Palazzo, burning 27 people inside.
Learning of this, the Anziani immediately banished those who committed such cruel crimes from Bologna and her territories, under the penalty of the gallows. Likewise the Sedici banished the Marescotti with their companions who forcefully entered the square; whereupon Galeazzo Marescotti was last seen heading toward Venice.13
I've never been at sea, but I've heard from seafarers that there are monster storms that only a few have survived where all you'll see is waves as tall as the towers of Bologna, with winds that could snap a mast like a twig. Then, by some divine miracle, everything stops. It's calm. You can see into to the heavens. Only for it to kick back up again ten times worse than before.
Bologna was caught up in one of those tempests and if this was the leading edge, I could only imagine what was yet to come.
That brief respite only lasted two more days. The Bishop’s Mass on Easter Sunday, a message of peace, grace and good will to men must’ve really been something. On the 29th of March, the following Monday, Annibale and the Sedici had a change of heart. They sent delegates to Galeazzo Marescotti and his brothers, Giovanni, Tadeo, and Antenore, as well as Ludocivo Canetoli, suing for peace between the factions. Everyone agreed.
Like a sign from God a cold wind swept through the city. The unseasonal temperatures ruined the years grape harvest; it was going to be a tough sledding for the farmers in the contado to feed their families in the fall. For me, I remembered this cold. This was the same chill I felt the night Ludovico Marescotti whacked d’Abrosino and started all of this madness. 7th level of Hell cold. Of course, it came just in time for Galeazzo Marescotti’s return to Bologna on Sunday the 11th of April—the prodigal son had come home.
I don’t know why I cared, but I was there to watch him ride through the Galleria gate. When he passed under the rastello in his white armor with eight men-at-arms in his company our eyes locked. He nodded. I let out a sigh and returned the gesture. As much as I wanted to blame him for everything that was happening, I was beginning to realize that he might’ve been right all along. The Canetoli couldn’t coexist with the Bentivoglio. Galeazzo was fighting that war, even if Annibale Bentivoglio was too pragmatic to see the principle of it. But that’s why everyone loved Annibale. He’s a good soul. Hard to believe considering the kid had spent his formative years in a mercenary camp, and got his first taste of battle at the age of 13. Maybe that was the trick. He was tired of all the killing. He just wanted peace since his whole life had been war.
Galeazzo’s armed cadre didn’t go unnoticed. It rankled a lot of feathers in the Anziani. They politely asked him to leave. He stayed. I could see the far edge of the storm now.
Bolognese Gazette:
12 April 1445
Heavy Frosts and Violent Winds Wreck the Contado
From the 4th of April to the 12th heavy frosts and violent winds chill Bologna. As a consequence the vines in the Bolognese Contado and Romagna dry up.
11 April 1445
Galeazzo Marescotti Returns!
On the 11th of April, a Sunday, Galeazzo Marescotti returned to the homeland at the request of Annibale Bentivoglio. Upon entering Bologna he passed on horseback through the square with a squad of eight armed companions. The Anziani, indignant at this, made it clear to him that he must leave the city immediately, but he showed little concern for their commandment, and still remains.14
The writing was on the wall. I posted guards on the Canetoli and Marescotti Palazzo’s so I would know right when things went sideways. This wasn’t for their sake. They were already damned to Hell. It was for Iacopo’s widow, for his son, and all the other innocent people caught up in this mess.
At the beginning of May new plots started to blossom. One of the buttons posted on the Canetoli Palazzo came to me with a bit news. Francesco and Battista Ghisiliari, Nicolo de’ Santi, Delphino and Santi degli Atticonti, Andrea Ghisiliari and a whole host of other loyal Caneschi wise guys showed up to the Palazzo for some sort of a meeting.15 I knew something was wrong because the uniform reported that they were looking this way and that like they were watching a Palio—trying to see who might’ve spotted them entering the Palazzo. He had a good eye.
Now that I knew who was making the first move, I made it my personal responsibility to see what that move was going to be. I took one of the buttons and staked out the Canetoli Palazzo for a week. Finally sometime in late May—I can’t remember when exactly on account of all the sleepless nights that made the days blend together—we finally saw something meaningful. Two nobodies who had no business being in that part of town showed up at the Palazzo and were greeted by Battista Canteoli himself.
I woke up my partner Guido, and we waited for our mystery men to exit the Palazzo. We tailed them back to the locations where they were staying, and found out from locals who they were. Niccolò Barozino and a farmboy known as da Piacenza. I grabbed the next patrol that strolled past my perch and asked them to pass a message to the Palazzo Podesta; I needed two bulls on me for backup, and I needed them to get word to Guido to stay tight and keep an eye on his perp.
One of the fresh uniforms who showed up shared some interesting scuttlebutt about a Milanese army under Taliano Forlano requesting permission to cross Bolognese territory with 1,500 cavalry and 600 infantry on the morrow. I don't believe in coincidence.
The next morning Barozino and da Piacenza both started moving through the city with large satchels. They rendezvoused at a building under renovation. We set up a stake to see if anyone else was coming. I put four bulls on the street—two north and two south—and told them to let me know if anyone important was coming. By noon time, one of them made his way back to our perch and told us that Annibale Bentivoglio’s retinue was heading our way. Holy Mother of God.
I told the boys it was time to move. We unsheathed our swords and made our way into the building where the perps were set up. When we made it to the second floor both of them were leaning on the windowsill with crossbows at the ready, looking to take aim at the Signoria of the city. We apprehended them both without a fight, clapped ‘em in shackles, and took them to the Palazzo Podesta for interrogation.
After giving my report to the Podesta, he relayed word to Annibale and the regimento. Soon, the place was teeming with shysters, notaries, and public officials who all wanted a say in how to proceed. In the end it was up to Annibale. They all knew that; they just wanted to seem important. When the Signoria arrived he was in a less than conciliatory mood. He had Barazino and di Piacenza put to the screws, beaten, flogged, flung and tortured. They didn’t want to talk. Some knucklehead, a friend of the Canetoli no-doubt, suggested that their silence was a sign of innocence.
It was a long day. When they started running out of body parts to remove and the perps were still mum on the details it emboldened the Canetoli reps in the bullpen further. One of them had the gall to say that Barazino and di Piacenza should go free, and called us all Chimeras for suggesting that they were guilty of some crime. Whatever the Hell that meant. I could see all the buzzards nodding their heads, scribbling away on their paper for the local gazette; they loved drama.
Eventually both men started to run out of blood and risked slipping into the unknown. I talked to Annibale briefly after they were done with the interrogation. He was a good kid; hard to believe he was only 35. Most men in power flaunt it, relish it, and wield it with reckless abandon—especially if they’re young. Not him. He was kind, humble—gentle and wise beyond his years. The kind of man you hope a leader can be. In the end I received a commendation for thwarting the assassination. No pay bump or new assignment. Just a job well done. That suited me just fine.
Bolognese Gazette:
May 31st 1445
Assassination Attempt?
Someone tried to have Annibale killed. To this end Niccolo Baronzino and a farmer named di Piacenza with their weapons hidden, believed they had Annibale in their snare. But the matter was discovered and both were taken into custody where they were tortured. Because they never confessed to the perceived plot, representatives from the Canetoli insisted that both parties be set free, saying that those who were opposed to the idea were chimeras as they were innocent and not at all guilty.16
Annibale knew the Canetoli tried to have him whacked, we all knew, but he was cut from a different cloth. Rather than tearing the city apart with more factional violence—as was his right—he continued to seek reconciliation. To that end, as a gesture of good faith when Francesco di Lippo Ghisilieri asked him to be the godfather for his newborn son, Annibale agreed.
It was the 24th of June, the feast of St. John the Baptist. No better day to get sprinkled. I wasn’t on assignment that day, but let’s just say I’m a sucker for baptisms. I shuffled into the cathedral and found a nice dark corner to perch and watch the proceedings. I scanned all the Caneschi to see if any of ‘em were tipping signals. My keen eyes settled on Betozzo and Battista Canetoli. Those two goombahs seemed extra twitchy. Maybe the thought of sitting in the house of God and taking communion was getting to ‘em or maybe they had something else on their minds.
When the little tike had been dunked, oiled, and sufficiently blessed, I slipped into the crowd heading for the exits so I could eavesdrop on some private conversations. I tried to get close to the Canetoli, but there were too many bodies around Betozzo and Battista. However, just ahead of me Annibale was strolling down the aisle arm-in-arm with his best friend Achille Malvezzi.
Achille was the preceptor of the Commandery of Bologna, a collection of crusading orders in the city, mostly Hospitallers—God’s healers and killers. The two of them were having an animated conversation. I tried to edge in and see what all the fuss was about. Unfortunately I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could tell that Achille was awfully concerned about something.
It took awhile for my eyes to adjust when we emerged from the darkness of the cathedral into the light of day. By the time my vision came to, Annibale was walking down the street with Francesco Ghisilieri and a number of the Caneschi. One of ‘em, a cat by the name of Ludovico Ludovisi, hustled back to Achille Malvezzi, who was standing on the steps in front of me watching Annibale go. Ludovisi tried to implore Achille to join their crew for the after party, but Malvezzi wasn’t having it. He told Ludovisi to inform Annibale he didn’t feel like getting cut to pieces that day.
My intuition was in line with Achille. Annibale was about become a martyr. And boy did I hate martyrs. The problem with martyrs is they’re all idealists. Narrow minded and so focused on their cause that they can’t see the forest for the trees. Annibale was putting his neck on the line for something he thought would bring peace to the city, when realistically it would only bring perpetual war and violence—an unprecedented blood feud.
I looked over at the crowd of potential killers surrounding the Signoria and realized I had a decision to make. I could tail them and try to step in if they decided to move on Annibale and get myself killed in the process or I could go strike a deal with the devil and even the odds. The Podesta couldn’t help me anymore. It dawned on me that I was like one of Plato’s prisoners in his allegorical cave. Now that I’d stepped out of the cathedral into the light, I could see things more clearly, but if I tried to share this newfound wisdom with the other prisoners, my colleagues, they would flog me and call me a hypocrite. I laughed. Achille looked at me like I was nuts and walked away. Maybe I was.
Fortunately, I had a detail on Galeazzo Marescotti at all times, so it wasn’t that difficult to track him down. They were just outside Porta Saragozza on the west side of town. Now all I had to do was convince him that Annibale’s life was in danger and make sure he wouldn’t turn the city upside down in the process of pursuing my hunch.
I had just started walking over to Galeazzo, Tadeo, Giovanni, and Anetore; who were lounging around a table yucking it up, when a bombard blast shook the windows of the Palazzo next to me. Everyone froze.
Fifteen well armed men appeared from nowhere and descended on the Marescotti boys before they even knew what was happening. They opened the throats of Tadeo and Anetore, but the Brunos that had the jump on Galeazzo and Giovanni were a heartbeat too late. One got thrown through a table before he could carve a second smile in Galeazzo’s neck, while his compatriot got his shoulder dislocated and had his own dagger driven through his eye for failing to secure Giovanni.
By the time I got into the thick of it, both Giovanni and Galeazzo had their swords out and were making a fine account of themselves against an overwhelming number of Caneschi. I ran my sword though the spine of a particularly stout fellow, and cut the lower jaw off another to get to Galeazzo. We locked eyes. He called to Giovanni. No reply. We managed to create enough space to pull away and get a sense of what was going on with his brother.
Giovanni was still under an overhang fencing around a table. He had five men on him, and they could barely touch him; I’ve never seen a man fight with so much poise and tenacity in my life. Giovanni looked like a cornered lion.
Galeazzo started fighting his way toward Giovanni, but before he could reach him, the spell was broken, and a well placed thrust punched through Giovanni’s chest and out his back. Galeazzo screamed. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and told him we needed to go. He shrugged me off and kept fighting. Then one of the shortsighted Caneschi made the boneheaded mistake of making sure Giovanni was dead. Now that Galeazzo knew there was nothing left to fight for, he gave in to my demands and we took off.
We found refuge in the Convent of San Matthia. The sisters of the order were kind enough to dress our wounds, and while they were busy plugging our leaks a mob of Caneschi marched past shouting, “Flesh, Flesh, Death, Death!”
I looked over at Galeazzo. He had that stare, the kind men get when they’ve just done a ton of killing and watched their loved ones die. The kind of stare even the toughest men get.
I put my hand on Galaeazzo’s shoulder and told him we needed to get out there. He nodded. We worked the back alleys and made our way to Galeazzo’s Palazzo. The Canetoli had planned this harangue really well. Out of the fifty loyal Marescotti Brunos that frequented the palatial enclave, only seven made it back in one piece, and only two I recognized; Spezza Viggiani, and Pietro Maria Ubaldini.
Galeazzo pulled out his arming chair, and took a squat while Viggiani and Ubaldini added plate to his doublet. We started talking about what to do next. He insisted that we needed to get to the basilica of San Giacomo and ring the bell, which would rally the Bentivogleschi and show the whole city that no matter what had transpired, order could be restored.
The windows of the Palazzo started to reverberate with the call, “Flesh, Flesh, Death, Death!” Another bloodthirsty mob.
I leaned against the wall and shifted through the nuance of Galeazzo’s plan while I watched him get kitted up. A brick shattered the window behind my back. I ducked. Then a lit torch was forced through the breach, and I shoved it back out before it could set anything alight. Arsonists.
Galeazzo stood up, and asked for his sword and targone. We were going out. Spezza Viggiani brought in Galeazzo’s shield and a number of bucklers for me, him and Ubaldini. The others armed themselves with partisans.
Galeazzo led us through the doorway with his targone half kitted in mail, cuisses, poleyans, greaves and sabatons. Viggiani, Ubaldini, and myself were the next out, while the partisans picked up our flank. The moment we emerged we had cutthroats on us from all sides, but Galeazzo mowed a tidy path that gave us space to fan out and gain a bridgehead.
Mobs have terrible fighting discipline. Ol’ Guido from the notaries office who’s all bluff and bluster about the tyranny of the Bentivoglio typically isn’t a killer, he’s out there doing his civic duty: stealing, vandalizing, running amok. When he sees a god of war like Galeazzo Marescotti bearing down on him, he’s likely to make a business decision and get the Hell out of the way. That’s not to say there weren’t any bravos in the bunch—there were plenty—but when they realized only a quarter of their number had the constitution to put a fight, they would stop thinking about group tactics and start looking out for themselves. In the end we felled a fair number before they realized where this was headed and decided to split.
I posted up outside with the partisans while Galeazzo finished throwing on the rest of his business suit. Marescotti’s wife, Caterina Formagliari, arrived at the palazzo and crossed the street with a few of her Brunos. She was in tears. I told the partisans to look alert, and followed her in so I could get the gist of her story.
She gave Galeazzo a long hug. I averted my eyes. Then she told him that she’d seen his brothers’ bodies in the street, and implored him to leave Bologna immediately. Galeazzo simply shook his head—no reply. So, she decided to tell us something we didn’t know.
Annibale Bentivoglio was dead.
She had it from one of the Caneschi wives who had found a safe place to dig in underground until things blew over, that while Annibale was walking down the street arm-in-arm with Francesco Ghisilieri—as was custom—they passed Francesco’s house, and kept going down the road. Annibale became suspicious when they crossed the Croce di San Sebastiano into Canetoli territory, and he started looking around. That’s when Betozzo Canetoli and gang of his greaseballs rolled out, and started moving on him from across the street. Annibale managed to shake Francesco and get his sword half way out of its scabbard, but Francesco came up behind him and put a chain around his throat. His cronies secured Annibale’s weapon, while Bettozzo came up and punched three holes in his chest with a stiletto. One for the father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Spirit. When Betozzo was satisfied with his work, each of his goombahs stepped in to put their own mark on the Signoria. Seventeen wounds, like he was Julius Fucking Caesar.
Once that was done they fired off a bombard as a signal to all the other Caneschi that were lying in wait, alerting them that Annibale was dead, and giving them the green light move in on their targets.
I met Galeazzo’s eyes. If you’ve never seen a hard man cry—don’t, it’s terrifying. Caterina asked him again, to please reconsider, for her, for their love—for their family. He kept his eyes locked on mine, and uttered four simple words that will never leave me. Have patience my love.
Caterina’s face became stern. She righted herself and wiped away her tears. Then she reached over and picked up one of Galeazzo’s pauldrons and started tying it to his doublet with the arming point. Galeazzo couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer; tears started streaming down his cheeks. For Annibale. For Tadeo. For Anetore. For Giovanni. For Caterina, who in the face of certain death had the courage to arm him for battle, and faith that he could succeed against all odds.
Whatever Hell the Canetoli were expecting, they had something else coming.
Bolognese Gazette:
24 June 1445
Flesh, Flesh, Death, Death!
The Signoria is Dead! Chaos in the Streets!
According to reports it seemed to the Canteoli that every hour the city remained in the hands of Annibale and the Marescotti their hands would continued to get bloodied due to the poison and hatred that had fomented in their hearts. So, they ordered Annibale to be killed on the day of St. John the Baptist with the following stratagem.
Francesco di Lippo Ghisilieri had a newborn son, whose baptism had been postponed due to the murder and violence in the city. Wanting to take him to the sacred font, he implored Annibale with loving words and a joyful reprise, and asked him to be the child’s godfather. Annibale gladly accepted, and gave him infinite thanks for his love.
So, on the day of St. John, in the morning, the murderer, Francesco, sent his son to the cathedral, where he was baptized by Annibale Bentivoglio and Achille Malvezzi, whereby they became godfathers to the house of Ghisilieri.
They left the sacred fount, and took Francesco by the arm (as was customary) and were invited to join him and his companions for a feast in celebration of St. John. Achilles did not want to go, because he was a very prudent and sagacious man, and doubted the intent of the invitation. He approached Annibale Bentivoglio and told him that he shouldn’t go. But not thinking of the evil, Annibale refused to lend him an ear.
Having left the Temple, Annibale, at Francesco’s request sent Ludovico Ludovis{i} after Achille, who was on the stairs of the Bishops palace and was about to go home, that he should accompany them in any way possible. Achille is reported to have replied: “Ludovico, you will tell Annibale in his ear that I do not want to come and be cut into pieces.” And turning his back, went home.
Annibale understanding that Achille didn’t want to join them, doubted himself, and became unsure if he wanted to go, but forced by the prayers of his wicked comrades, left the Temple arm in arm as they made their way to the festival. Having just passed the sacred cross of Saint Sebastian, near the house of Francesco. Annibale looked over his left shoulder and saw armed men, he understood his imminent death, seeing that they were on the Canetoli side of town.
Wherefore, Annibale freed himself from the arms of Francesco, by whom he was strongly held, and having freed himself drew his sword and ran toward the house of the Canetoli. Alas what does the persecuted unicorn do, who believing he will survive, but place himself in the lap of the modest damsel, his main enemy, from whom a mortal chain is placed around his neck. Thus the miserable Annibale, running towards his enemies, Baldesare and Bettozzo Canteoli crossed the road, and coming to meet him, between the retinues, and with a knife, Bettozzo put three stab wounds in his generous chest.
Having fallen to the ground, Annibale was finished off by Bettozzo’s cruel followers together with his initial killers. The following were: Filippo di Bernardino Ramoni, Jacomo di Novellino, Cristophoro and Giovanni Fusagna, Carlo Ottofredi, Giovanni di Bernardo dall’Vasselli, Giovanni di Buratino, Christophoro di Zonino, Pieto di Jacomo Filavgline, and five foreigners. The culprits are still at large.
All of these took up arms which had been hidden in the home of Battista Canetoli and in the church of Saint Isaia. Then, they gave a signal with a bombard blast which meant Annibale was dead.
Meanwhile, the Caneschi attacked the Marescotti, and began shouting, “Flesh, Flesh, Death Death!” Turning their weapons on the Marescotti, who were unaware of the fate of Annibale. They killed Giovanni {Luigi}, Tadeo and Antetore, sons of the esteemed Doctor Ludovico, and brothers of Galeazzo.
Galeazzo Marescotti was wounded in the fracas, but found refuge in the monastery of the nuns of San Matthia. Having escaped by an unknown route, Galeazzo returned home to arm himself and gather people to excite the city to take up arms against the conspirators. While he was arming himself, enemies arrived at the door of his Palazzo. Galeazzo took a targone and sword, accompanied by Pietro Maria Ubaldini and Spezza Viggiani among a few others, and opposed their enemies with impetus, and out of the fury of good wounds made them flee.
Galeazzo Marescotti returned to finish arming himself, when his wife, Caterina Formagliari arrived at the house full of tears, and running to Galeazzo, urged him to flee quickly, telling him that she had seen his brothers dead on the ground, the Bentivoglio party in ruin, and that Annibale been killed. Galeazzo continued to arm himself and urged his wife to be patient; and she, moved by this, began to help him arm himself, implored him to avenge this outrage.17
We mounted up in the back alley of the Marescotti Palazzo, and rode out into the street beside the Spanish University. Before we could even kick our mounts into to a canter and clear the college, we were hailed by Dionisio di Castello, the Gonfaloniere di Giustizia.
He told Galeazzo that he could have sworn that he was dead. Galeazzo lifted his visor, and smiled. He replied that it would take a lot more than that to kill him.
Hiding out behind the fortified walls of the University with the Gonfaloniere were the ambassadors of Florence and Venice, and the entire Anziani. Galeazzo asked them all to gather, and said, “My lords do not fear, but have hope in God, and know that today you will see the temerity of the perfidious Canetoli chastised. Gentlemen, the city’s danger lies in your delay, let us go now to the piazza and take control of it, for if you do so we will undoubtedly find victory over our enemies!”
That got the patricians and robes all riled up. We opened up the stores of the nearby Palazzo of Ludovico Marescotti d’Calvi; Galeazzo’s old man, and armed all the members of the Anziani. I couldn’t believe one man had so many damn weapons—it was no wonder he was always causing trouble.
Once everyone had something to fight with we moved in two organized groups toward the Piazza Maggiore. When we came to the square it was unguarded. The majority of the Anziani went into the Palazzo Comunale to pass legislation deputizing Galeazzo Marescotti to lead the army, and drafted letters requesting the services of the condottiere captains Pietro Navarino, Tiberto Brandolino, and Count Guido Rangoni. All told that would bring 1300 cavalry and 200 infantry into the fold.
Galeazzo had the task of keeping the square secure while the robes did their civic duty. He dispatched a number of men to block the entrances of the Piazza, and asked me personally to go and ring the bell of San Giacomo.
Dong—Dong—Dong—Dong
The collars came out of the cloisters and offered to keep up the rhythm, so I went back to the center of the Piazza where Galeazzo was watching and waiting.
Long tense moments passed. We had no idea which banners, if any, would show up, and depending on who came—well, that meant life or death for us. We’d just alerted the whole city that the Bentivoglio cause was alive and well, and there were roving bands shouting “Death, Death, Flesh, Flesh!” that were looking to snuff that cause out.
The sentries spotted movement. Every eye strained to see what banner or livery had heeded our call. Galeazzo didn't move an inch. He was a statue. A study in focus. The men started to cheer. It was the Malvezzi.
Then we heard commotion from another street. The adulation ceased. We waited—and waited. Finally another cheer was let out. This time it was the Pepoli and Fantuzi.
Taddeo and Giacomo Pepoli met Galeazzo at the center of the piazza alongside Achille and Astorre Malvezzi. Marescotti directed them to have their men reinforce the entrances to the square with wood beams and overturned carts. He kept the crusader knights of Achille Malvezzi in the center with his trusted Brunos like Ubaldini and Viggiani. At any moment we could expect a response from the Canetoli. It wasn’t if—it was when.
That when came faster than anyone expected. The streets leading to San Momolo on the south-side of the piazza started to ring with the all too familiar “Flesh, Flesh, Death, Death.” Galeazzo had a third of the fighting force take up positions behind the crude barricade blocking the street. I peeked through a murder hole. The banner of Ludovico Canetoli was bobbing to the cadence of the killers’ grotesque war call. I gripped my buckler and looked over the blade of my sword to see if there were any sets or seams that I needed to be worried about. All clear.
When the mob got close, they brought up a crude ram, and got to work busting down our barricade. It didn’t take long for them create a breach. The distraction gave the arrows on the rooftops and in the murder holes just enough time to get a few good volleys in and even the odds. Then it was our turn.
The suits led the push. I followed after. Galeazzo Marescotti, Achille and Astorre Malvezzi, Ubaldini, Viggiani, the Pepoli, Bianchi and Mezzacani cut terrible figures in the onset of the onslaught. I don’t know what Ludovico was expecting, but he had his order of battle all wrong. There were too many Giovannis in the forward ranks of his deployment. The suits scythed their way through those poor bastards like they were harvesting wheat. It didn’t take long for Cantetoli to call a general retreat.
Now, fighting prowess and effective leadership are two totally different things. A commander of a detachment needs to have a cool head in the face of battle; you’ve got to be able to think a few steps ahead so you don’t put your men in a bad spot. Galeazzo was known as being a keen strategist and tactician, but his mind was compromised by his lust for revenge. We ended up in a bad spot.
When the Canetoli started to tuck-tail and run for their rallying point near the church of San Francesco, Galeazzo decided to pursue so he and the suits could take their anger out on the skulls of the stragglers. This led us into the teeth of the Canetoli. We ended up fighting it out in the street for seven hours, from 4pm to 11pm that evening, until it was too dark and everyone was too tired to continue.
The foray was incredibly costly. Astore Malvezzi, Francesco Bianchi, Pietro di Giovanni de Burselli, Antonio Mazzacani, Giovanni Fusagna and many others didn’t make it. In the course of the fight Battista Canetoli cut his way into the Church of San Francesco and started ringing the bells, rallying the Caneschi. By the end of it there were some eight hundred cutthroats crowding the corridor—serenading us with “Flesh, Flesh, Death, Death!”
Galeazzo had royally fucked up.
To his credit, we managed to fight a well organized retreating action. One of the most difficult maneuvers in warfare. But the ramifications were far reaching. With so many somebodies left bleeding out in their armor, the Anziani started to lose its stomach for a fight. Two bozos by the name of Jeronimo Bolognini and Mechior da Moglio put in a proposal for a truce when word of the setback made it to the Palazzo Communale. They had the votes.
When we got back to the Piazza Maggiore a frantic representative ran out and informed Galeazzo about the bill in session. He quickly dismounted and stormed into the Palazzo. He was hot. It’s a good thing he didn’t have a ronca. Instead, this time he decided to wield the power of rhetoric. He called Bolognini and Moglio cowards, and shamed the rest of the prevailing council into lock-step. There was an ace up his sleeve. While we were out getting our asses handed to us, informants brought word that Battista Canetoli had sent messengers to Filippo Maria Visconti the duke of Milan and his captain Taliano Forlano, who was camped out in the Romagna, inviting the Milanese to assume control of the city. If there was anything that united Bologna, it was the threat of another Visconti tyranny. Galeazzo got his way.
Bolognese Gazette:
24 June, 1445
Order Restored? No! Marescotti Takes a Beating Leaving Leadership in Doubt!
As soon as he was armed, Galeazzo is reported to have left his Palazzo from the back door, which overlooked the College of Spain. There he found Dionisio di Castello, Gonfaloniere di Giustizia, at the door of the college with the Anziani and Zaccaria Trivisano, ambassador of the Venetians, and Niccolo Donati ambassador of the Florentines, who had all gathered there with their guard when they heard of the death of Annibale and Galeazzo’s brothers.
An energized Galeazzo turned to them and is reported to have said, “My lords do not fear, but have hope in God, and know that today you will see the temerity of the perfidious Canetoli chastised. Gentlemen, the city’s danger lies in your delay, let us go now to the piazza and take control of it, for if you do so we will undoubtedly find victory over our enemies!”
Moved by the words of Galeazzo, the Anziani entered the home of Ludovico Marescotti where they took up arms and with haste marched to the Piazza with Galeazzo.
Whereupon they found that the piazza was free of guards, so they gave the task of preserving it to Galeazzo, and entered the Palazzo where they immediately held council with the orators. They sent for Pietro Navarino, who was in Budrio, Captain of the Bolognese with 300 horse, and to Tiberto Brandolino, captain of 400 horse, who was in Cento and in Pieve, and to Count Guido Rangoni who had 600 horse and 200 infantry as a captain of the Venetians asking them to hurry to the defense of the city.
Having the bell of San Giacomo rung, they agreed to hand all the soldiers over to Galeazzo Marescotti so he could provide where a need arose. Galeazzo quickly organized guards around the square, and fortified it well on all sides. Given the sign of the bell of San Giacomo, the Pepoli, Fantuzzi and Malvezzi arrived in the square; among them were Taddeo Pepoli, Matteo de Nappi, Pietro Borselli, Friano de Bianchi, Pietro Cacciti, Francesco Bombasaro, Finello dalle Salle, Pietro Bettino, and Antonio Mezzacani among many other citizens who had heeded the call to take up arms.
They passed into the square and fortified it with beams of wood, carts, and other appropriate materials so that the Canetoli could not enter. They had a skirmish on the corner of the Piazza toward San Mammolo with Ludovico de’ Canetoli who intended to enter the square, but seeing the resistance, turned his men towards San Francesco and went to the house of Battista Canetoli, where they were strongest. The fighting there would last from 4pm to 11pm.
Battista Canetoli was alerted to the danger and had the bell of San Francesco rung, gathering together his allies, totaling about 800 armed men, in the Salicata of San Francesco. Reports indicate that he immediately sent a messenger to Taliano Furlano, who was in the Romagna, urging him to come with haste, as he would certainly be introduced into the city and have dominion over it.
Meanwhile, Galeazzo Marescotti took 100 soldiers to give chase, and having reached the straw hay, he encountered the enemy, and joined battle. Many were wounded and killed on both sides; among whom were Astorre di Gasparo Malvezzi, Francesco de’ Bianchi, Pietro di Giovanni de’ Burselli, Antonio Mazzacanni, Giovanni Fusagna, and may other who remained dead.
Seeing this, some citizens, moved by pure zeal, intervened between the parties and tried to pacify them, among whom were Jeronimo Bolognini and Melchior da Moglio. They had almost concluded the agreement when Galeazzo Marescotti arrived, and having been told, entered the Palazzo and exhorted the regimento with the effectiveness of his words, imploring them not to give up on avenging the death of Annibale, for if they delayed any longer they would see the duke’s soldiers overrun the city and it would be dominated by the Visconti again. 18
Time is a weird thing. When you’re young, you long to be older; when you’re old you long to be younger. When you’re on a post, shoveling shit, or whatever else your job demands, you want time to go by faster, yet when you’re faced with the reality of death you value every precious moment and wish you'd spent more time doing the things you enjoy or being with the ones you love rather than grinding your way toward an inevitable demise. Time is a fickle mistress. You really only value her company when her presence is fleeting.
We were running out of time.
Galeazzo knew that, the exhausted men who’d survived his fuck-up knew that, and robes in the Palazzo knew that.
He called all the men in the Piazza to him, and explained what they had to do. We had to go back out.
There wasn't another choice. Forlano’s mercenary company was less than a day’s ride away. If they got into the city, which wouldn't be difficult with the Caneschi controlling the southern gates, we were cooked. Our options were simple: go down fighting, or get slaughtered in the square. It wasn't a tough decision.
We marched past the bodies of our fallen comrades and the Caneschi cut down in our ill-fated pursuit. Their cold blood, empty eyes, and mangled corpses were a keen reminder of what was to come. When we reached the crossroads where the previous day’s fighting had taken place we found that the Caneschi had reinforced their position with barricades like the ones we'd put up in Piazza Maggiore. We were in for a tough fight.
Galeazzo addressed the boys with a speech worthy of Odysseus. Given the stakes it wasn't exactly necessary, but it got ‘em jazzed up and took their minds off of the corpses in the street.
Fortunately, the knights of the holy order anticipated the crude fortifications and brought along a bombard. We weren't going to need a forlorn hope to force a breach. They blasted the barricade, and sent timber, body parts and scraps of armor flying into the nervous ranks of Caneschi huddled up behind ‘em.
When they were satisfied with their work, the suits formed up at the head of the assault, and everyone else tucked in behind. I learned from the first foray that a sword and buckler limited my options until the end game of the exchange, so I hooked my buckler on my belt, kept my sword sheathed, and picked up a partisan for the initial push.
The partisan, spiedo, and to some degree the ronca have two primary functions in a fight like this: to hook and hold other polearms or spears, and to bring the point to bear against shorter weapons. I’m sure some blowhard will write a book about it one day, and make it way more complicated than it is, but it's really that simple. The objective was to give the suits and shields space to get in close where they could do the killing. The sword and buckler were for when things went sideways, and cohesion broke down. If everyone did their job and held rank, that wouldn't be necessary, but there was always a hero in the bunch.
Things started alright. The psychological trauma of seeing a 7 kilo piece of metal maul a swath of your compatriots will do a number on your morale. That meant the forward ranks of the Caneschi were already in the primal end state—fight or flight, and a house divided is easily conquered.
Once we made it through the breach and worked our art on the poor souls filling the forward ranks, things got a lot tougher. As suits went down, and the wall of steel in front of the infantry narrowed, they were forced to become more and more involved. Eventually a line would get reduced to just pikes, partisans, and polearms, and they'd get plowed until a new line of suits could step up and engage.
I wasn't anywhere near the front since I took part in the first fight at San Francesco; Galeazzo wanted to give his fatigued men time to catch their breath before forcing them back into the meat grinder. Of course, that also meant we were the end of the line, so when it was our turn to step up, we were already losing. Every step forward was another step closer to death.
When the carnage got close I took a peek at Galeazzo. He had clasped his visor in anticipation of getting stuck in. The cold expressionless face of his armet gave me chills. One last scrap for Annibale, Taddeo, Anetore, and Giovanni. One last scrap for Iacopo’s widow and his pup. One last scrap for a safe and secure Bologna.
We were getting ready to get wet when the boys in the back rank started cheering. Hooves thundered down the adjacent streets. Hundreds of heavy horse. Galeazzo lifted his visor and started bellowing orders, “It’s Navarino! Push! Push! To victory men!”
What remained of our group picked up the call, and started shouting, “Sega, Sega, Sega, Sega!” The war call of the Bentivoglio.
As the lines drove forward, they enveloped a few of the suits who got disconnected and kept fighting though the thick of the Caneschi. Their armor and livery was painted a gruesome red. Among them was Achille Malvezzi, who took a knee to catch his breath as we pushed past him. Galeazzo shared a brief word of encouragement with him and they embraced. Both knights, idols of Mars, pressed their way to the front, shouting, “Annibale, Annibale, Annibale!”
The Caneschi lost their will to fight and pulled back to their last refuge, Porta San Isaia. If they could hold that gate and let Forlano’s forces in, they could even the odds, but they didn’t keep their cohesion in their retreat and were swept up by Navarino’s cavalry.
Victory.
Bolognese Gazette:
25 June 1445
Victory! The Canetoli Routed! No Quarter Given!
Galeazzzo left the vote to go attack the enemy at the Saligata of San Francesco, along Via di Porta Nuova; finding a fortress and barricades everywhere, he began destroying them with great loss to the enemy and to his own men. While the battle was raging, Pietro Navarino arrived in Bologna with 300 horse, part of which he sent to the aid of Galeazzo who had already the Trebbo de’ Ghisilieri, where a new fight had begun. Seeing his forces aided by Navarino, Galeazzo urged his men to overcome the enemies, fearing the inevitable arrival of Furlano.
The battle lasted two hours, with a tremendous amount of bloodshed, as neither side showed the other mercy. Finally Galeazzo prevailed with the Bentivogleschi party. Having broken the barricades and and scattered the garrisons, he persecuted the Caneschi with the sword as far as he could.19
Blood lust, fighting madness, vengeance; whatever you wanted to call it, it was insatiable. After hours of killing, protecting the man beside you, and watching the men you’ve sworn to protect die around you, eventually it gets to you. The remnants of the Caneschi scattered through the city, and every man without a post set out to hunt them down. I didn’t take part—I was too tired—but I heard the stories.
A whole throng of Canetoli men tried to find refuge in Palazzo Canetoli and got burned alive inside when a hunting party came looking for Battista. Somehow Battista Canetoli managed to escape with his son. They didn’t make it far. They got captured by a bunch of rural peasants who wanted to take justice into their own hands. Rumor has it, when Battista tried to pay them off they replied, “Let the traitor who took away the father of our country die,” and cut him down on the spot.
They didn’t stop there. The peasants tied ol’Battista’s body to a mule cart, and dragged it into the city. When they made it to the Piazza Maggiore they cut out his heart, and nailed it to the door of Annibale Bentivoglio’s Palazzo. One of the German immigrants in the city, who probably owed his livelihood to Annibale’s progressive regimento, went up and took a bite out of Battista’s cold black heart, then proceeded to parade around the street with Battista’s congealed blood smeared all over this face, shouting a thousand curses. For fun, the jazzed-up crowd decided to feed the remains of Battista’s corpse to a pen full of dogs and pigs. A noble end, for a noble man.
That egghead Giovanetti was right.
The list of atrocities was long, but a few stood out. Niccolo di Bettino Beccaro. They found him hiding in the house of Giovanni d’Angellino. He was dragged by the feet into the Piazza Maggiore where some gallows had been erected. The poor bastard was drawn, quartered, and hanged by the foot to the delight of a cheering crowd. Bottarello Biagio was also drawn, quartered and hanged with a number of other Caneschi. A fellow by the name of Famangli never made it to the Piazza; the crowd just ripped him to pieces in the street. When the popolo started running out of Caneschi to dismember they turned to the houses and business of the conspirators and their compatriots. They looted, burned, and stripped the smoldering remains of 63 homes in the city. Bologna was on fire.
Of course the chaos didn’t stop there. A number of Caneschi got away. Including Ludovico and Betozzo Canetoli. The City of Towers would suffer another six years of factional warfare as the Caneschi tried to climb their way back into Bologna. Despite the bounties, kill orders and headhunters roving the countryside, the Canetoli kept coming and coming, until new factional divisions erupted from within the Bentivogleschi, and the city was torn further asunder.
There was one moment in 1448 that captivated the citizens of Bologna, and almost brought the matter to rest. For years the Bentivogleschi—Galeazzo Marescotti especially—tried to get their hands on Annibale’s principle killer, Betozzo Canetoli. It’s always tough getting a grasp on a slippery rat like that, but on the 22nd of November, 1448, they got their wish. Astorre Manfredi, a long time friend of the Bentivoglio, through a number of crisscrossing campaigns in the Romagna ended up with ol’Bettozzo as a captive of his company.
He wrote a letter offering Bettozzo up to the Bentivogleschi for 3,000 ducats. The catch was, he couldn’t just hand over a captive without clearing it with his men, and they would want to sell him to the highest bidder. So Galeazzo Marescotti came up with a plan. Astorre would feint business in Faenza, and leave Bettozzo in the charge of a small inexperienced group of men, the Bentivogleschi would descend on them with an overwhelming number of troops, and act like they took him in a skirmish.
So, on the 22nd, Sante Bentivoglio—the new signoria—Galeazzo Marescotti, Virgilio Malvezzi and 300 loyal Bentivogleschi rode out of the City of Towers. They arrived at the small fortress at 3 o’clock in the morning, and scared the living Hell out of the small garrison. None of Astorre’s pups that were left in charge had the heart to fight, and fled, leaving Bettozzo alone in the tower. When Galeazzo kicked in the door of the cell, and Bettozzo realized what was going on, he decided to jump out the window with a manacle still chained to his ankle. The fall near-about ripped his leg off, but he figured it was better to lose a leg than whatever fate awaited him at the hands of Galeazzo Marescotti. He was right.
The new regimento needed a PR push, so they brought a number of notaries with them to record the conversations. Once they got him down from the tower, and Galeazzo had the chance to talk to him, he said, “After all of this, we found you, O traitor. Despite all of your penance for your grave sins, you can no longer escape divine justice.”
Bettozzo replied, “It’s true, I’ve come to suffer the punishment for my great fault, but I humbly beg you to first let me confess my crimes. Given to God. Then you can do with me as you please.”
Galeazzo Marescotti turned to him and said, “For what reason, traitor, did you kill Annibale, who loved you so much and had striven to reconcile with the Caneschi?”
Galeazzo had walked into Bettozzo’s trap. He smiled and replied, “In truth Annibale never deserved such an outrage, but what was done by us was caused by your great disorders and by the insolence of your brothers, an insolence that had reached such an extent that we could no longer live in such a world, so if Annibale died, he truly died for your sake, and not for his cause.”
Galeazzo had no reply. He left the room.
The next day, they tied Bettozzo to a mule, and led him into Bologna. They made sure to pass by the street where he used to live so he could see the devastation of his Palazzo, and those of his followers. A crowd of citizens started following them, shouting “Kill the traitor, who killed our sweet Annibale!”
They kept him in a safe room, in Sante Bentivoglio’s Palazzo, with a large number of guards until it was time to do the walk. On that day, they brought Bettozzo before seven year-old Giovanni II Bentivoglio, Annibale’s son. Bettozzo tried not to meet the little guy’s gaze, but Galeazzo Marescotti picked up Bettozzo’s chin so he was forced to look Giovanni in the eye, and said, “Giovanni, this is the traitor and wicked man who so cruelly killed your father.”
Giovanni started to cry profusely, which set Bettozzo to blubbering like a little babe. He couldn’t bear to look at Giovanni. He covered his face with this hands. Then Donnina Visconti Bentivoglio, Annibale’s wife, stepped forward and said, “Why, O most cruel man, have you done such a great wrong to my dear husband? What displeasure did Annibale ever cause you that he deserved to be murdered by your hands?”
Bettozzo, who was at this point was still bawling, crossed himself, and begged forgiveness. Sante had enough; as a shallow peace offering he had Bettozzo treated humanely on his final day. He was unshackled and allowed to roam his Palazzo at will.
The next day at 10pm, he was placed on a donkey, and carried to the principali of the city. The sentence was passed. Bettozzo was to be beheaded. They made him dismount from his worthy steed, and forced him to walk behind the beast, holding its tail. They paraded him around the Piazza, and made good show of his humiliation. He tried to beg forgiveness from everyone that would lend him an ear. When they were done making an ass of him, and stopped the donkey, the man who stepped up to grab the reins was Galeazzo Marescotti.
Galeazzo took a stern grip on the back of Bettozzo’s neck and said, “hold the donkey’s tail firmly in your hand, so it doesn’t fall.”
Betozzo started shrieking, “Shut up, shut up, you cruel man, now my pear tree is ripe, but yours remains in the straw.”20
Galeazzo led him to the street where Annibale was murdered. In the ruins of the home of Francesco Ghisilieri they had erected a gallows, but Galeazzo had Bettozzo’s head off in the street where Annibale was killed. They attached his head to his right arm and posted it as a warning to all, then hung his body by the feet from the tresses.21
I wasn’t there for any of it. Though I may have been in the City of Towers, and kept walking my usual beat, I tried to stay as far away from the reciprocal violence as I could—whenever I could. I still talked to Galeazzo Marescotti on occasion. There are some bonds that never could never be broken. But on the 24th of November 1448, while he was getting his long awaited revenge on Bettozzo Canetoli, I was wrapping up a shift where I had busted some smugglers in the Galleria district. Once I had all the raps written for the vultures, I went over to the market and approached the stand of a lady by the name of Bianca d’Bolognese and bought some flowers, then I got some bread from Giovanni d’Rossi, some good wine from the Ettore Lambertini, some olive oil from a Neapolitan man whose name escapes me, and some spices. Then I headed over to the slums, and had a nice long peaceful dinner with Iacopo’s widow, Francesca, and his little tyke Guido. It was hard to believe he was already four years old. I pulled a little wooden horse that I’d carved from my pocket, and handed it to him. Francesca looked at me and smiled. I thanked them for their company, and headed home.
If the chaos of those years had taught me anything, it was to appreciate the little things. The shopkeeps, the widows, the orphans. The heartbeat of the City of Towers.
And to reduce the matter into a small compass, I say that, on the side of the conspirator, there is nothing but fear, jealousy, prospect of punishment to terrify him; but on the side of the prince there is majesty of the principality, the laws, the protection of friends and the state to defend him; so that, adding to all these things the popular goodwill, it is impossible that any one should be so rash as to conspire. For whereas in general the conspirator has to fear before the execution of his plot, in this case he as also to fear the sequel of the crime; because on account of it he has the people for an enem, and thus cannot hope for any escape.
Endless examples could be given on this subject, but I will be content with one, brought to pass within the memory of our fathers. Messer Annibale Bentivoglio, who was prince in Bologna (grandfather of the present Annibale), having been murdered by the Caneschi, who had conspired against him, not one of his family survived but Messer Giovanni, who was in childhood: immediately after his assasination the people rose and murdered all the Caneschi. This sprung from the popular goodwill which the house of Bentivogli enjoyed in those days in Bologna; which was so great that, although none remained there after the death of Annibale who was able to rule the state, the Bolognese, having information that there was one of the Bentivogli family in Florence, who up to that time had been considered the son of a blacksmith, sent to Florence for him and gave him the government of the city, and it was ruled by him until Meser Giovanni came in due course to the government.
For this reason I consider that a prince ought to reckon conspiracies of little account when his people hold him in esteem; but when it is hostile to him, and bears hatred towards him, he ought to fear everything and everybody. And well-ordered states and wise princes have taken every care not to drive the nobles to desperation, and to keep the people satisfied and contented, for this is one of the most important objects a prince can have.
—Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince, (Utridge, pg. 67-68)
Works Cited:
Fortunato, Bruno. Fileno dalla Tuata—Istoria di Bologna; Origini-1521. Tomo I and II (origini-1499). Costa Editore. 2005. Print.
Ghirardacci, Cherubino. History of Bologna Volume III. Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Digital.
Ghirardacci, Cherubino. Historia di vari successi d’Italia e particolarmente della citta di Bologna. Volume III. MS Codex 1462. University of Pensylvania Libraries. pg. 315. Digital.
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 95
Etintanto furono poste le bandiere del senato et del popolo sopra la torre del castello et per tutta lacittà si fa gran segni d'allegrezza . Il di seguente , che fu alli 23 di agosto , il venerdì , An nibale fa instanza col senato che li Canetoli di famiglia magnifica et potente di roba et d'amici sieno ripatriati . Et di questo suo pensiero molto lo laudò Gerardo Rangoni , quando stette seco a Spilimberto , perchè insino 20 all'hora tale era l'animo di Annibale ; et lo conferì col detto Gherardo , et così vennero alla patria Galeotto , Ludovico et Baldessera Canetoli . Entrati adunquenella città , primieramente visitarono li signori antiani , per li quali fu trattata pace fra Annibale et loro ; et paci ficati , ciascuno lieto alle proprie case se ne andò . Questa venuta non fu di volontà di molti de ' cittadini amici de ' Bentivogli , perciocchè ve devano il futuro pericolo del suo caro Annibale a cui dissero di nemico riconciliato non do versi fida re . Ma Annibale et il cavaliere Lodovico , essendo del sangue Bentivoglio di sua na tura benigno , amorevole et dolce , volsero più tosto porre la vita loro in forse , che di vedere li suoi cittadini essuli dalla patria ; et però , come ho detto , fece s ì amorosa instanza del loro ritorno .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 95
“Questi fa chiamare a sè Battista Canetoli , insieme con molti de ' suoi , et gl'essorta tutti al vivere in pace et al mante nere le pr omesse occorse fra lui et Annibale , et che s'egli farà ciò, gli ritornerà in bene , et se farà per lo contrario , gli annuncia l'ultima sua rovina et gran travagli alla città . Il che detto , tosto si morì , et fu honoratamente seppellito in San Franc esco alli 28 di settembre , il sabbato.”
Fortunato, Bruno. Fileno dalla Tuata—Istoria di Bologna; Origini-1521. Tomo I (origini-1499). Costa Editore. 2005. Print. Pg. 284
Esendo questo di confaloniero de justicia Batista da Chanedolo, fe' una bela festa in palazzo, dove erano setanta done dele piu ornate de Bologna e qui feno bali e chanti con gran festa infine a sei hore de notte, poi ognomo ando a chaxa aconpagnato honorevolmente con dupieri e homini.
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 99
Capitano generale del conte Francesco Sforza . Lettera del conte Francesco Sforza al senato di Bologna :
Magnifici et potentes Domini,
A vostra allegrezza et consolatione vi avvisiamo come hoggi mercoledì , a dì 19 del pre sente , anda ssimo a trovare gli nemici , che erano presso il Monte dell 'Olmo , et con la grazia 15 dell'altissimo Iddio gli abbiamo rotti et fracassati di maniera , che di loro non si trova più memoria , perciochè quasi tutti sono stati presi ; fra li quali vi è Fra ncesco Piccinino, il vescovo di Fermo legato del papa et molti altri di riputazione . Et habbiamo ottenuto Macerata , Monte dell ' Olmo , Tollentino , Sanseverino con più altri luoghi . Et anche speriamo in breve , senza alcuna contraditione , di havere t utta la Marca , sicche per communicare con Vostre Magnificentie l'allegrezza nostra di tanta vittoria , vene abbiamo voluto avisare ; et di giorno in giornovi faremo intendere più fresche et prospere novelle .
Ex nostris victoriosissimis castris apu d Montem Ulmi , die 19 augusti 1444 .
FRANCISCUS SFORTIA
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 86
“15 20 די Alli 11 di giugno , il ma rtedì di Pasqua , si raduna il senato per trattare se li Canetoli si 25 dovevano richiamare alla città et farli far la pace con li Bentivogli , a maggior conserva tione della città et mantenimento della libertà di essa ; parve ad alcuni si dovesse fare , ma non già a Giovanni di Jacomo Griffoni , il quale molto fu contrario di parere , adducendo in mezzo la loro alterigia et che sempre erano stati inquieti et perturbatori della comune pace , oltre l'haver sempre esser a tutti superiori et dominare la città . Fu la volontà di Giovanni 30 publicata per il palazzo ; di che adirato Galeazzo Marescotti , che quivi si trovava , prese un roncone , et con esso entrato nel senato , senza haver alcun rispetto nè alli signori antiani nè a ' gentilhuomini quivi radunat i , menò un colpo per levar di vita Giovanni , ma l'arme percuotendo nel muro glie lo vietò , nondimeno alquanto il ferì nel capo . Laonde turbato tutto il senato , si abbandonò il consiglio con gran tumulto del palazzo , et Giovanni da molti 35 cittadini accompagnato così ferito se ne andò a casa sua . Et non parve al senato per al l'hora farne alcun risentimento , per esser la città in travagli et haver bisogno dell'opera di Galeazzo nella guerra.”
Fortunato, Bruno. Fileno dalla Tuata—Istoria di Bologna; Origini-1521. Tomo I (origini-1499). Costa Editore. 2005. Print. Pg. 285
La note de San Petronio funo feridi 7 fanti del palazzo e uno morto , ave bando Paxe da l'Abacho deli Odofredi e Valdesera Odifredi e Matio di Nobij stracaroli.
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 99
Ludovico il figliuolo succede nella signoria . A di 4 d'ottobre , la domenica , dovendosi correre il palio della festa di san Petronio , non si corse , ma fu trasferito al giorno di san Luca alli 18 , pure in domenica . Li gios tratori fu rono questi , cioè : Lodovico et Astorre di Gasparo Malvezzi , il qual Ludovico era tornato alla città et si era col senato riconciliato , Galeazzo et Tideo di Lodovico Marescotti , Flo 35 riano di Gratiolo da Tossignano, Giovanni di Antonio da Monterenzoli , Filippo di Jeronimo Bolognini , Domenico del Villano Pellacani , Antonio di Bolognino dalle Fiubbe . Hebbe l'onore et il premio Ludovico di Gasparo Malvezzi , il quale haveva gittato da cavallo Galeazzo Ma rescotti con alcuni altri. I giudici furono Giovanni di Ligo Lodovisi et Filippo Podestà et Nicolò Sanuti .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 83
“Ritrovandosi in questi giorni in Bologna all'hosteria del Capello Filippo Schiavo capita no di 400 lance di Francesco Piccinino , che secretamente si stava per vedere la riuscita del tumulto di Bologna , et vedendo che Annibale gagliardamente travagliava il Tartaro et che di già l'aveva assediato , cominciò a temere di se medemo , che se fosse scoperto et veduto sarebbe ammazzato ( era costui quello che menò prigione Annibale nella rocca di Verano ). Però chiamato a sè l'oste , gli diede cento ducati d'oro , pregandolo lo tenesse secreto et che trovasse modo che egli della città potesse usc ire salvo , promettendogli anche maggior premio . L'hoste gli promise più che non chiedeva et accettò li detti danari et lo nascose in un luogo segreto , assicurandolo che non dubitasse di niente ; poi considerando bene al fatto , l'hoste , et conoscend o che non poco offendeva Annibale a salvare li suoi nemici , se n'andò ad Annibale et narrogli a pieno il fatto ; il quale havendo inteso il tutto , tosto mandò gio veni armati per pigliarlo . Et all'entrare in casa , udendo Filippo lo strepito et imag inandosi quello che era , si gittò in una cloaca , che quivi era , et fuggendo di quella in altra et poi in altra , finalmente riuscì alla casa di Iacomo Castellani da Medecina situata da San Pietro , 30 et li soldati , che quivi erano concorsi , che benis simo sapevano non potere in altra parte uscire , lo presero tutto fezzoso et sporco , et così condottolo ad Annibale , gli domandò a che fine era egli a Bologna : a cui Filippo altieramente rispondendo disse che nol sapeva . Al l'hora Annibale lo fece con durre in casa sua et porgli i ferri a ' piedi , acciochè fosse consi gnato sotto buona custodia , con animo di essaminarlo con diligenza . Galeazzo , inteso questo 35 fatto , andò la sera a veder Filippo , et interrogandolo di alcune cose , l'indomita bes tia co minciò a rispondere con troppa alteriggia , di che Galeazzo adirato , trasse la spada et lo tagliò in pezzi . Fu poi da alcuni , così di notte , portato a San Giovanni de Mercato.”
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 83
“Volgata la morte di Filippo Schiavo , li contadini saccheggiorno tutti li suoi soldati . Galeazzo Marescotti in questo stesso giorno , passando dal cantone della via di Mezzo in 40 strà San Donato, si scontra in Carlo di Ludovico da Pisa et con la spada l'uccide , dicendogli che egli questo premio gli dava per l'anima d i Giovanni di Matthio Griffoni che egli haveva ucciso.”
Ghirardacci, Cherubino. Historia di vari successi d’Italia e particolarmente della citta di Bologna. MS Codex 1462. University of Pensylvania Libraries. pg. 315. Digital
Similimare alli 15 decembre su tagliato a pezzi Giovanni di Lando detto Giovanni d’Ambrozino partiale de Canetoli, e su Ludovico Marescotti, che l’uccise in Piazza quasi su la porta del Palazzo, sendo Ludovico da Canetoli de Signori.
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 100
Alli 25 febraio , il giovedì , Annibale Bentivogli figliolo di Antonio Galeazzo stabilisce et fabrica una capella et altare con la sepoltura nella chiesa de ' fratri di San Jacomo , dietro il coro loro .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 100-101
Alli 25 di marzo , il giovedì , trovandosi a caso Matthio di Bernardino dalle Correggie alle bollette , venne non so come a parole con Gherardo dal Capello , et assalito da grande ira , Matthio cavò l'arme per ferirlo ; dove sopraggiongendo il figliolo di Gherardo , tosto pigliò un falzone et diede tre ferite mortali a Matthio per salvare il padre et lo lasciò quivi come morto et egli se ne fuggì a casa de ' Marescotti per salvarsi . Ora venuto il fatto alle orec- chie di quei dalle Correggie , radunorono molti amici loro per farne vendetta , di che li Marescotti avvisati , che erano da, presero l'arme et con impeto andarono alle case di Lodovico di Lambertino Canetoli , che habitava in San Mamolo , amico di quei dalle Correg- gie , et quivi con l'arme percuotendo la porta et le finestre con parole ingiuriose gli chia mavano fuore ; ma Ludovico , come huomo savio et prudente , per ischivare il tumulto nella città , et benchè in casa havesse molti armati , mai gli rispose parola . Finalmente li Mare- scotti d'indi partendosi , et passarono alla piazza gridando : " Viva il popolo et le arti ,, et questo per concitare il popolo al pigliar l'arme ; ma niuno si mosse , se non gli antiani , li quali scendendo alla piazza , gli scacciarono a mal grado loro di piazza ; et con poco honore alle case loro se ne ritornarono . Battista Canetoli frattanto raduna da 500 huomini armati , non sapendo nulla del fatto , per passare alla piazza , et il medesimo fa Annibale Bentivogli ; ma intendendo amendui che li Marescotti erano stati cacciati alle loro case et che la piazza era libera , ciascuno depose l'armi , benchè l'odio fra Marescotti et Canetoli ad ogni hora crescesse .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 101
Essendo gli huomini del Castello del vescovo fra di loro in due parti divisi , occorse che uno di una parte ne restò morto , et colui che l'uccise , insieme con la parte , si fortificò in un palazzo de ' Pepoli . Il che intendendo la parte contraria , pigliate l'armi , andarono ad as- sediare il detto palazzo ; et combattendolo per molte hore , nè potendolo ispugnare , gli diedero fuoco et dentro vi abbrugiarono 27 persone . Il che sapendo gli antiani , subito dierono bando di Bologna et territorio a tutti quei che a tanto crudel misfatto si erano trovati , sotto la pena della forca . Parimente il senato bandisce li Marescotti con i loro compagni, che erano andati in piazza ; laonde Galeazzo ne andò a Venetia , ma poco vi stette .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 101
Alli 4 d'aprile , la domenica , insino alli 12 del medesimo , vengono grandissime brine et sono grandissimi freddi et impetuosi venti , et molte viti perciò nel contado di Bologna , nella Romagna et in molti altri luoghi si seccano . Alli 11 d'aprile , la domenica , Galeazzo Marescotti a ' prieghi d'Annibale è richiamato alla patria , et entrando in Bologna passa a cavallo per la piazza armato con otto compagni ; di che sdegnati gli antiani , gli fanno intendere che subito debbia uscir della città , ma egli mostrando poco di curarsi del loro commandamento , rimane.
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 101-102
Perciochè Baldessera di Lodovico Canetoli parendogli che la pace fatta avanti gli antiani gli fosse una commoda rete da pigliare li suoi nemici al vado , egli , sotto il colore di amistà , cominciò a radunare Francesco Ghisilieri , Battista suo cugino , Nicolò de ' Santi , Delphino et Santi degli Atticonti , Andrea Ghisilieri et molti altri de ' Canetoli et loro amici . Havuto longo ragio- namento con essi loro , con dire che benissimo conosceva che di prima li Canetoli erano grandi et estimati da tutti li signori d'Italia et che hora vedeva che essi si trovavano in così basso stato che poco o niente dagl'altri cittadini erano stimati , et in particolare dalli Marescotti per haver loro il caldo di Annibale Bentivogli liberato per opera loro dalle car- ceri , et che altro non restava loro se non di essere totalmente distrutti ; cose tali et simili disse egli con grande affetto di animo , perchè si conclusero fra di loro di levarsi avanti gl'occhi la parte contraria et di ammazzare Annibale et li Marescotti et di tentare l'aiuto del duca di Milano per potersi difendere dalla lega de ' Venetiani et de ' Fiorentini , et quanto prima si dovesse con il duca capitolare acciochè il tutto succedesse secondo i voti loro . Et però avisarono del tutto il duca ; et egli lieto di questo fatto promise loro larghi premi et gradi di honore . Capitolato adunque col duca , esso mandò nella Romagna Taliano Forlano con 1500 cavalli et 600 fanti , fingendo mandarli contro Francesco da Cudignola ; poi ordinò Luigi da San Severino con molti armati , che sentendo la morte di Annibale , tosto dovesse essere in soccorso de ' Canetoli .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 102
Canetoli frattanto tentano di fare uccidere Annibale ; et a questo fine Nicolò Baronzino et il massaro di Piacenza con l'arme sotto osservano di haver Annibale al laccio . Ma 20 la cosa si scuopre et presi son incarcerati et tormentati ; mai volsero confessare la verità . Instavano adunque li Canetoli che amendue fossero liberati , dicendo che quello eragli opposto erano chimere et che essi erano innocenti et in ciò non punto colpevoli .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 102-104
Pareva a ' Canetoli ogni hora un anno di insanguinarsi le mani nella morte di Annibale et de Marescotti , tanto il veleno et l'odio gl'era sceso al cuore . Et perchè l'aspettare sino al dì di san Pietro gli era cosa insopportabile , ordinarono di ammazzare Annibale il dì di san Giovanni Battista con questò stratagema . Erano circa due mesi che a Francesco di Lippo Ghisilieri era nato un figliolò maschio et sinò ad hora l'haveva serbato a battezzare per servirsene a tanto homicidio . Et volendo portarlo al sacro fonte , ricercò con lieta faccia et amorevoli parole Annibale il volesse tenere al battesimo il giorno di san Giovanni e divenire suo compadre . Accettò volentieri Annibale et dell'amor suo gli rese gratie infinite . Venuto adunque il giorno di san Giovanni , la mattina manda l'homicida padre il figliuolo alla chiesa cathedrale , il quale fu da Annibale Bentivogli et da Achille Malvezzi tenuto al battesimo et compadri divennero del detto Francesco . Il quale con essi loro partitosi dal sacro fonte , il prese a braccio ( come si costumava ) et l'invitò insieme con Annibale ad andare alla festa di san Giovanni ; non volle Achille an- darvi , perchè come huomo prudentissimo et sagace , dubitava quello che poi avvenne ; et bel- lamente accostatosi a Annibale , gli disse non dovesse andarvi . Ma non pensando a male ve- runo , Annibale non gli prestò orecchio ( volle la sua fortuna corresse in humana terminatione a penitenza di qualche errore de ' suoi nemici ) . Et essendosi inviato Achille per partirsi del tempio, Annibale a ' prieghi di Francesco gli mandò dietro Lodovico Lodoviso a pregarlo ( era già Achille su la scala della chiesa che va nel vescovato , che ne andava a casa ) che per ogni modo si degnasse accompagnare il compadre et lui alla festa . Rispose Achille : Lo- * dovico, diraí ad Annibale nell'orecchio che non voglio venire a farmi tagliare in pezzi „ ; et subito voltate le spalle , ne uscì del tempio et seguitò il suo camino . Intendendo Annibale come Achille non vi voleva venire , quasi volse egli fare il somigliante ; ma astretto dai prie- ghi dell'iniquo compadre , abbracciati uscirono del tempio , et inviatisi giù verso la festa , pas- sato che hebbero di poco la sacra croce di san Sebastiano , presso la casa di Francesco il compadre , dal lato sinistro Annibale volse gl'occhi a dietro , et vedendo alcuni armati , com- prese la sua vicina morte vedendosi nella parte de 'Canetoli . Per il che trattosi dalle braccia del compadre , dal quale era forte tenuto , et uscito dalle mani ingannevoli , cavando mezzo fuori la spada che cinta haveva , corse verso la casa de ' Canetoli , che era sotto quella del scelerato compadre , a quella guisa che fa il perseguitato liocorno , il quale credendo pure di campare , si pone nel grembio della pudica donzella sua principal nemica , da cui mortal ca- tena gli è posta al collo . Così il meschino Annibale correndo verso li suoi nemici , Baldessera detto Bettozzo da Canetolo passò la via , et venendo ad incontrarlo , il giunse nel trebbo de ' sigori Storletti fra la casa de ' Canetoli et del compadre et con una coltella tre volte gli ferì il generoso petto . Il quale cadendo a terra , fu dagli altri crudeli seguaci finito insieme con dui suoi famegli . Erano con Baldessera gl'infrascritti : Filippo di Bernardino Ramponi , Jacomo di Novellino sarto , Cristophoro et Giovanni del Fusagna pellizzari , Carlo Ottofredi , Giovanni di Bernardo dalli Vasselli , Giovanni di Buratino chiodarolo , Cristophoro di Zonino orefice, Pietro di Jacomo Filavigline , cinque forastieri et molti altri . Tutti questi , pigliando l'arme hastate in casa di Battista Canetoli , et essendone molti nascosti nella chiesa di san- t'Isaia , dato il segno di una bombardella che significava Annibale esser morto , uscirono di chiesa , et incontrandosi nelli Marescotti , cominciarono a gridare : " Carne carne,. Volgendo 35 le armi sopra li detti Marescotti ( che niente del fatto occorso sapevano ) , uccisero Giovanni Luigi , Tideo et Antenore Marescotti figlioli di Ludovico egregio dottore et fratelli di Galeazzo , il quale anche lui ferito , si era salvato nel monastero delle suore di san Matthia ; fu anco ammazzato Bartolomeo detto Mazzacani . Iscampato per altra via , Galeazzo si ridusse a casa sua per armarsi et radunare gente 40 per eccitare la città al pigliar l'armi contro li congiurati . Et mentre che si armava , ecco gli nemici alla porta della casa , et Galeazzo preso un targone con la spada in mano accompa- gnato da Pietro Maria Ubaldini et lo Spezza Viggiani con alcuni pochi altri, opponendosi al- l'impeto loro , a furore di buone ferite gli fece fuggire . Ritornato Galeazzo a finire d'armarsi , giunse in casa Caterina Formagliari la moglie piena di lagrime , et correndo ove Galeazzo era , l'essorta di tosto fuggirsi dicendoli che veduto haveva li suoi fratelli morti per terra et che la parte de ' Bentivogli era tutta in rovina , sendo stato ucciso Annibale . Quando Galeazzo udì che Annibale era mortc et delli suoi fratelli che erano stati uc- cisi , per il gran dolore hebbe a cader per terra morto , et tratto da disperatione et da desìo di 50 vendicare la morte di Annibale et de' fratelli , seguitò di armarsi et essortando la moglie alla patienza ; et ella confortata cominciò ad aiutarlo ad armare , sollecitandolo al vendicare cotanto oltraggio .
Galeazzo , tosto che fu armato , salse a cavallo accompagnato da molti amici armati , et nell'uscir di casa , dalla porta di dietro che il coll egio di Spagna rimira , trova Dionisio di Castello confaloniere di giustizia su la porta del collegio con gli antiani et Zaccaria trivi 5 : sano ambasciatore de ' Venetiani et Nicolò Donati ambasciatore de ' Fiorentini , che quivi con la lor guardia s'era no ridotti , havendo inteso la morte di Annibale et delli tre de ' Mare scotti ; nè sapevano ove passare , nè che partito pigliarsi , non sapendo che congiura questa fosse . Galeazzo con lieto et simulato viso , volto a loro , disse : Signori miei , non h abbiate alcuna te " menza , ma sperando in Dio habbiate animo virile , che oggi spero vedrete castigata la teme 10 " rità de ' perfidi Canetoli . Signori , ne l'indugiar vostro sta il pericolo della città ; però affret " tativi di andare alla piazza et di quella insignorirvi , perchè così facendo vi do nelle mani “ la indubitata vittoria degli nemici ,. Mossi gli antiani dalle parole di Galeazzo , et a sua per suasione entrati in casa di Lodovico il padre , presero l'arme et con frettoloso passo passaro no alla piazza divisi in due squadre benissimo ordinate, sendo con essi loro Galeazzo ; et giunti , 15 trovando la piazza libera et senza guardia , diedero la cura a Galeazzo di pigliarla et con servarla . Et entrati li signori in palazzo , fecero tosto consiglio con gli oratori , et subito spe dirono messi a Pietro Navarino , che si trovava a Budrio , capitano de ' Bolognesi con 300 ca valli , et a Tiberto Brandolino capitano di 400 cavalli , che era a Cento et alla Pieve et al conte Guido Rangoni che haveva 600 cavalli et 200 fanti capitano de ' Venetiani , che ne 20 dovessero venire a volo alla difesa della città ; et li signori , fatto dare il segno alla campana per radunare il popolo armato , consignarono tutti li soldati a Galeazzo Marescotti , acc iochè provedesse ove il bisogno fosse . Il quale ordinò presto le guardie intorno la piazza et da ogni parte benissimo la fortificò . Frattanto che queste cose si ordinavano , fu portata la crudel nuova della morte di An 25 nibale a madonna Donnina la mog lie et alla sorella Costanza maritata in Gasparo Canetoli , la quale fu di poi al conte Gherardo figliolo del magnifico cavalliere Christino Francesco de ' Bevvilacqua patricio dignissimo veronese maritata, alle cui grida concorsero molti degli amici di A nnibale a confortarle . Et dato il segno alla campana di san Jacomo li Pepoli , Taddeo Pe poli , Matteo de ' Nappi , Pietro de ' Borselli ( questo fu morto ) , Friano de ' Bianchi ( fu morto ) , 30 Pietro Cacciti , Francesco Bombasaro , Finello dalle Sell e , Pietro Bettino , Antonio Mazzacani ( fu morto ) ; tutti questi erano co ' Pepoli et li Malvezzi , Fantucci et molti altri cittadini presero l'arme et si radunorono insieme , et fatto un grosso squadrone, passarono alla piazza et più che non era la fortificarono con sbarre di legni et di carra et di altre cose opportune , acciochè li Canetoli non vi potessero entrare . Et fecero una bella scaramuccia sul cantone della piazza 35 verso San Mammolo con Lodovico de ' Canetoli che voleva entrare in piazza , ma vedendo il pensier vano , voltò con la sua gente verso San Francesco et andò a casa di Battista Cane toli , dove fatti forti , combatterono dalle 16 hore infino alle 23. Battista Canetoli anch'egli non dorme , ma fatto dare il segno alla campana di San Francesco , raduna gli amici suoi circa da 800 armati nella salicata di San Francesco et tosto spedisce un messo a Taliano 40 Furlano , che era in Romagna , che con ogni celerità dovesse venirsene , che sicuramente sa rebbe introdotto et della città have rebbe il dominio . Frattanto Battista si pose a fortificare la detta salicata con il trebbo de ' Ghisilieri per quivi conservarsi sintanto che Taliano con le sue genti alla città giungesse . Il che fu potissima cagione della sua ruina , perchè s'egli , ucciso ch'ebbe Annibale et li 45 Marescotti , fosse tosto passato alla piazza , s'insignoriva sicuramente et di essa et del palazzo ; ma il peccato grande gli haveva levato il discorso per condurlo alla fossa di sua ultima rovina . Galeazzo che intende Battis ta essersi fortificato alla salicata di San Francesco , piglia cento armati seco et si parte di piazza per gire ad azzufarsi con gli nemici et d'indi cacciarli ; et giunto al fieno della paglia , s'incontrò con li nemici , et amendue le parti venendo al fatto delle arme , molti ne furono da ogni parte feriti et uccisi ; fra quali vi rimase morto Astorre fig liolo di Gasparo Malvezzi , Francesco de ' Bianchi , Pietro di Giovanni de ' Burselli , Antonio Mazzacani , Giovanni Fusagna pellizzaro con molti altri . Il che vedendo alcuni cittadini , mossi 5 da puro zelo , s'interposero fra le parti per vedere di paci ficarle , fra ' quali vi fu Jeronimo Bolognini et Melchior da Moglio . Li quali di già quasi havevano concluso l'accordo , quando ciò alle orrechie di Galeazzo venne che era ritornato alla piazza , sendogli da non so chi detto : Galeazzo , tu hoggi rimaner ai superato , se vorrai combattere perchè quasi la pace * davanti agl'antiani è conchiusa , sendo a ciò mezzani Jeronimo Bolognini et Melchiore 10 da Moglio , et perciò a mio giudizio indarno t'affatichi,. Galeazzo a queste parole tosto scese da cavallo tutto pieno d'ira et di furore , et andato alli antiani, et intesa la cagione del ragionamento delli detti sopradetti , tosto ritornò alla piazza , et salito a cavallo con ef ficacia di parole essortò il popolo a non esser punto pigro di vendicare la mort e di Anni bale a loro sì caro et de ' suoi fratelli , et che se essi più tardano , si vedranno passar sopra 15 li soldati del duca et la città sarà da loro dominata . Et tra il popolo molti animati si po sero a seguitarlo .
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 105
Et Galeazzo passando dalle bol lette per andare ad assalire gli nemici alla saligata di San Francesco , per la via di Porta nuova ritrovando roste et sbarre per ogni luogo , tutte le co minciò a rovinare con grande uccisione de ' suoi et della parte nemica . Et in questo con flitto giunse a Bologna Pietro Navarino con 300 cavalli , parte de ' quali furono mandati in aiuto di Galeazzo che già era varcato al trebbo de ' Ghisilieri , dove si cominciò una nuova zuffa , perciochè vedendosi soccorso Galeazzo si forzava di superare gli nemici , temendo della venuta del Furlano ; et non senza gran spargimento di sangue durò la battaglia circa due hore , senza haver l'una dell'altra parte alcuna pietà . Finalmente prevalse Galeazzo con la parte Bentivolesca et rotte le sbarre et le roste , perseguitò gli nemici col ferro sin dove potè .
This is likely a classist slur, i.e. I was at the height bearing fruit as a noble, while you were still a poor peasant in the hay. This is not the only time a noble in the city of Bologna goes after Galeazzo Marescotti d’Calvi’s status, later in the late 1480’s the Malvezzi would make a similar statement. The Marescotti were descendants of Scottish nobility, and used to have a title in the Carolingian dynasty, but through the annals of time the family ran into hard times, and saw their wealth and status melt away.
Carducci, Giosuè, et al. Rerum italicarum scriptores: raccolta degli storici italiani dal cinquecento al millecinquecento. Ghirardacci Book 3. Italy, S. Lapi, 1929. Pg. 126-128
Alli 22 di novembre , il venerdì , il governatore con 30 persone passa al castello San Gio- 40 vanni per parlare a Baldesserra Canetoli ed intendere il modo come in Crevalcore fosse entrato : rispose che quanto haveva fatto era stato per ripatriare , poi humilmente pregò il governatore che lo volesse haver per raccomandato . Et fatto ciò il governatore si ritornò a Bologna . Molto si affaticava la parte bentivolesca di haverlo nelle mani et sopra lui vendicar la morte 45 di Annibale et delli Marescotti , et perciò il reggimento di Bologna scrisse al signor Astorre il dovesse mandare a Bologna . Rispose che , secondo li capitoli , doveva stare presso di lui , sendo che li prigioni et il bottino appartenevano a lui et non ad altri , et se pure erano desiderosi di haverlo , egli gli chiedeva tremila ducati . Intendendo questo , la parte bentivo- lesca fra di loro accumularono il detto danaro , et ne avvisarono il signor Astorre haverli depositati presso il reggimento . Et acciò che niuno sapesse che esso haveva venduto Bal- desserra , nè che i Bolognesi l'havessero comprato , ordinarono che il signor Astorre fingesse per cosa importante esser forzato di gire a Faenza , et frattanto lasciasse Baldesserra in guardia delli presidj , perchè , essendo lui partito , il verrebbono a pigliare per condurlo a Bologna , 5 dimostrando a forza haverlo tolto agli presidj . Si partì adunque Astorre et ne va a Faenza ; et partito , tosto Santi Bentivogli , Galeazzo Marescotti , Virgilio Malvezzi , con 300 cavalli armati si partono di Bologna et giungono alle 3 hore di notte a San Giovanni , et entrati secretamente nella rocca , andarono al luogo ove era Bettozzo , et mostrarono voler per forza pigliarlo ; et fatta una finta scaramuccia , et restando vincitrice la parte bentivolesca , Bettozzo 10 detto Baldesserra , che bene si pensò che ciò era per conto suo , con li ferri a ' piedi si gettò giù di una finestra , et nel cadere si guastò una gamba di tal maniera , che senza potersi aiutare restò in quel'istesso luogo ove cascò , quasi immobile . Entrando adunque i vincitori nella stanza ove credevano trovar Bettozzo , si trovorono ingannati , ma cercandolo minutamente per ogni parte , quivi il trovorono ove si giaceva , et pigliandolo dissero :" Pure , o traditore , ti 15 habbiamo gionto ; ecco che gionto sei a far la penitenza del tuo grave peccato , nè più po- * trai fuggire la giustitia divina,. Rispose Bettozzo : È vero , son gionto al patire la pena del mio gran fallo , ma vi prego humilmente che prima mi lasciate confessare i miei de- * litti a Dio , poi di me come più vi piacerà ne disporrete ,. Et Galeazzo Marescotti rivolto a lui disse : " Per qual cagione , o traditore , uccideste Annibale , che tanto ti amava et si era 20 imparentato con voi Canneschi ? , . Costantemente gli rispose : " Nel vero Annibale non * meritò giammai cotanto oltraggio , ma quanto è stato fatto da noi è cagionato dalli tuoi gran * disordini et dall'insolenza de ' tuoi fratelli , la quale era ' venuta tanto a colmo , che più non * potevamo vivere al mondo , et se Annibale è morto , è veramente morto per vostra , et non per * sua cagione ,. 25 " Tacque Galeazzo , nè più oltre parlò ; ma venuto il dì seguente , legato il posero a cavallo et il condussero a Bologna , et passarono avanti le sue case , acciochè maggior dolore havesse di vederle per terra rovinate , et passando per la città tutto il popolo gli sgridava dietro : " Ammazza il traditore che uccise il nostro dolcissimo Annibale „ . Gionti alla casa di Santi Bentivogli , il posero in una sicura camera con ferri ai piedi , et condotto avanti a lui Giovanni 30 d'anni sette figliolo d'Annibale , Galeazzo disse : " Giovanni , questo è quel traditore et scelerato ' huomo che così crudelmente uccise tuo padre ,; alle cui parole il fanciullo cominciò a piangere dirottamente , et Bettozzo lagrimando anch'egli con le proprie mani si coperse il volto . Frattanto ecco che anche sopragiunse M. Donina già moglie d'Annibale , et lagrimando gli disse : A che , o crudelissimo huomo , facesti sì gran torto al mio carissimo consorte ? 35 * Che dispiacere giammai ti fece il mio Annibale , che egli da te meritasse che tu lo uc- * cidessi ? Tu , o crudelissimo huomo , fosti così crudele di tor la vita a chi tanto t'amava ! , . Bettozzo havendo il viso tutto coperto di lagrime , con gran singulti et con le mani in croce domandava perdono a Dio , al fanciullo et alla vedova del suo commesso errore , et rendendosi mille volte pentito , gli chiedeva misericordia : li quali mossi a pietà liberamente gli perdo- 40 narono . Et Santi allhora commandò che Bettozzo fosse ben governato , et che levatigli li ferri , fosse umanamente trattato , havendo grandissima compassione alla fragilità humana , poichè colui che era stato de ' principali della città hora si trovasse involto in tanta calamità . Il seguente giorno parve al senato che le leggi si dovessero esseguire contro di lui , acciochè la giustitia havesse il suo luogo , et perciò alle 22 hore il fecero condurre sopra 45 di un asino con grandissimo suo scorno avanti al podestà , il quale diede la sentenza che fosse decapitato , et poste fuore le bandiere secondo il consueto , fece suonare le campane , et avanti a lui leggere la sentenza ; la quale letta , Bettozzo addimandò perdono a tutto il popolo del suo errore commesso . Poi riposto sopra l'asino con una mitra in testa fu con- dotto , con gran vituperio et grida del popolo , intorno la piazza facendogli tenere la coda del- 50 l'asino in mano , et giungendo sotto la ringhiera del palazzo de ' signori , et vedendo li detti signori , alzò quanto potè gli occhi al cielo , et con voce gagliarda chiese loro perdono ; li quali con il segno di chinar il capo gli perdonarono , mossi tutti a compassione della sua mi- seria . Giungendo poi ove era Galeazzo Marescotti , egli dissegli : " Bettozzo , tien saldo la " coda dell'asino in mano , ch'ella non cada ,, a cui Bettozzo tosto rispose : " Tacci , tacci , " meschino , hora il mio pero è maturo , ma il tuo resta nella paglia ,. Condotto poi al luogo 5 ove egli uccise Annibale , quivi fu decapitato , et poscia per li piedi impiccato su le forche , che erano state poste sopra il guasto de ' Ghisilieri , attaccandogli il capo al braccio destro , dove così stette due giorni.