Dardi Deeds?
Part 1: Done Dirt Cheap (Antonglaeazzo and Annibale Bentivoglio, and the battles of Zangonara, and San Romano)
Who was Filippo Bartolomeo Dardi? Let’s observe some of the knowns about his life, then examine a frequently discussed misconception, and finally align his life with the contemporary events happening in Bologna and beyond.
Dardi was born in Bologna presumably sometime in the late 14th century, his father was Bartolomeo Dardi1. In 14132 he started a fencing school in the North-South corridor neighborhood known as via Pietralata, which runs between the main East-West thoroughfares of via San Felice and via Sant-Isaia, on the Western side of Bologna. It’s possible that the Dardi family were tradesmen, notably stonemasons, in the city of Bologna; one Francesco Dardi and his son Franceschino, were guarantors on a project to erect a large marble altarpiece in the church of San Francesco in Bologna in 1391 and we're listed as stonemasons3. This may well have been the foundation of Dardi’s geometric approach to fencing. It is also notable that Cherubino Ghirardacci has one Bartolomeo di Dardo dalle Calce listed as a patron of the church of St. Petronio in the mid-to-late 1390’s, Calce means limestone, and could be a trade related surname, it was common in Compagnia and Sicily, this timeline also sufficiently matches that of a likely Dardi paternal figure4, who we know was named Bartolomeo, because of records from the University. In 1434 it’s documented that Dardi published a treatise on fencing and geometry, and in 1443 he negotiated an annual stipend from the Bolognese government in return for lowering his rates. About the same time, he was granted a professorship at the university of Bologna, where he taught Arithmetic and eventually Astrology. Then, in 1464 he died.
Dardi, like many early Renaissance personalities is a relative enigma. Arguments about Dardi’s origins—whether he’s Spanish or Italian—have existed since the mid 16th century. This is primarily due in large part to faulty research performed by an academic known as Alidosi. However, Serafino Mazzetti in his, Repertorio di tutti I professori antichi, e moderni della famosa universita, e del celebre Istituto delle Scienze di Bologna, a sweeping survey of the notable professors at the university of Bologna, performed by the universities archival research authority, Mazetti posits that Alidosi was wrong, and that the Spanish Lippo and the Docturi Filippo were two different people, and that Filippo Dardi started his professorship at the University of Bologna in 1443.5
1030. DARDI Lippo, or Filippo son of Bartolomeo Bolognese. He was lecturer in Arithmetic and Geometry from the year 1443 to the whole of 1463. In the same year 1444, he also professed Astronomy. Alidosis was mistaken by the solitary reader.
None of these facts in a solitary state, have ever amounted to a convincing narrative that a Dardi lineage in Bolognese fencing existed. Outside of Gelli’s arguments which, while partially verified, are still missing key citations. The evidence around connections between Guido Antonio di Luca, Achille Marozzo, Giovanni Filoteo Achillini, and by proxy Manciolino, have always seemed more compelling; there is so much in common, most notably their ties and relations with the Bentivoglio family (save Manciolino), it’s hard to see how there couldn’t be a di Luca trunk beneath the towering canopy of veritable masters—or deluge of warriors spilling from the belly of the Trojan Horse—if we want to take Marozzo’s word for it. Dardi, on the other hand, has always seemed like an outlier, just a fencing figure disconnected, with scarce evidence that he could provide the roots of a vibrant tradition. However, if we take a step back from the notion that this was intrinsically a Bolognese fencing tradition, and instead view this through the lens of a Bentivoglio tradition of fencing—as Gelli vaguely asserts—or Bentivogleschi tradition of fencing (citing the Bentivoglio faction) this new perspective could provide us with some clues about Dardi’s origins and make compelling thoroughfares of future research out of the curious lapses in his known timeline. It’s worth investigating, so let’s take a look at the framework.
It all started in 1412, when a striking, young (22), and charismatic Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio—well into his law studies at the University of Bologna—started to re-form the dispersed Bentivogleschi faction. His father Giovanni some ten years prior had been dismembered by a riotous Bolognese mob, but rather than shy away from the dynamics of Bolognese political life that cost his father’s life, Antongaleazzo sought to embody them, and then reinsert the family into Bolognese civic authority. Antongaleazzo’s growing influence became apparent when a riot broke out in the city, that same year, 1412, initiated by the Wool Merchants (Arte Lanaioli) and the Butchers (Arte di Beccai)—both Bentivoglio allies— against the excesses of Papal dominion. The situation required careful attention, and the Papal Legate, Baldassarre Cossa (future Antipope John XXIII), tapped Antongaleazzo to negotiate peace, the young Bentivoglio was successful, so successful in fact that the Legate made a decree that Antongaleazzo, for his service to the peace of the city, should be entitled to a percentage of every contract negotiated in the city—a grant known as the Dazio delle Cartaselle, which would make the Bentivoglio very wealthy for almost a century.
There is no there-there but it’s interesting that Antongaleazzo’s rise from the ashes of his father Giovanni’s murder, coincides with the beginning of Dardi’s story. The significance of this will become more apparent as we continue the narrative.
In 1414, Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio completed his doctorate in Law at the University of Bologna, and in that same year he was invited to attend the council of Konstanz with the Antipope John XXIII as a jurist along with Battista Canetoli, both of whom had just recently attended a secret meeting in Bologna in 1413 discussing a potential coup against Roman Papal rule in Bologna (It’s a confusing time for Papal politics). When it became clear to the antipope John XXIII that the ecclesiastical reconciliation attempted by the council wasn’t going to happen (with the impending election of Martin V, and his own imprisonment), he confided this to Antongaleazzo and Battista, who escaped back to the city of Bologna to take over the government, and declare a new Bolognese republic. To achieve this aim, they requested the help of the famed Condottiere Braccio da Montone, for a hefty sum of 82,000 Ducats. They were successful. However, peace between the Canteoli and Bentivoglio wouldn’t last long. On January 26th, 1420, Antongaleazzo led a revolt and took sole control of the Bolognese government. He exiled the Canetoli faction from Bologna and had himself declared Gonfalonieri for life. The response from the new Pope Martin V was swift, Antonglaeazzo was excommunicated, and the Emilia region was soon teeming with Condottiere looking to take chunks out of the Bolognese contado. However, due to the established friendship between the Martin V’s loyal Guelf captain Braccio da Montone and Antongaleazzo, the Bentivoglio were given a chance to leave Bologna peacefully in October of 1420, which they happily took. Montone let Antongaleazzo relocate to his palazzo in Castel Bolognese, just thirty miles from Bologna, along the via Emilia, and the Pope, as a part of the negotiated peace, gave him a concessionary title of, Rector in Termporalibus, of Campania and Marittima, in August of 1420. This was a political trap, which would’ve stripped Antongaleazzo of his voting rights in Bologna by making him a lord of the Contado6, and sensing this, Antongaleazzo avoided the ruse by simply refusing to show up to his post. The proverbial Gordian Knot.
In the wake of the Bentivoglio’s exile, and the return of the Caneschi faction in Bologna, the presence of Antongaleazzo in Castelbolognese was a thorn in the new Papal Legate, Alonso Carrillo’s side. Castelbolognese became a refuge for all of the Bolognese citizens unhappy with the new Canteoli signorial government and overbearing Papal administration. To resolve this brewing conflict, Martin V started looking for ways to exhume the Bentivoglio from the Romagna, and in 1423 had Carrillo dish his bull that Antongaleazzo and his brother Ercole were going to leave, lest God smite them again. Further exiled, the Bentivoglio found refuge in Florence, under the Albizzisco faction, led by Rinaldo degli Albizzi. Antongaleazzo the lawyer and professor of law, became a condottiere, first for Florence in the Fratellanza di Armi; or the Brotherhood of Arms (Needs another source; Ady 1937)7, and from there joined the Malatesta brothers in their campaign in the Romagna, where Antongaleazzo and Ercole took part in the battle of Zangonara.
The battle of Zangonara was an abject failure on behalf of the Florentine forces, and a huge black eye for Rinaldo degli Albizzi. However, the fear and animosity found throughout the contemporary correspondence between Florentine diplomats and officials after the battle, seeing this as the breaking point of Florentine resistance against Visconti domination, would ultimately prove unfounded. The battle of Zangonara was in fact a pyrrhic victory for Milan, because the localization of Visconti forces in the Romagna allowed the Venetians to capture the city of Brescia, and ultimately ended the threat of Visconti domination in northern Italy.
It’s worth discussing what happened at the battle since our heroes, the Bentivoglio, were known to be there. In the summer of 1424, the Malatesta brothers, Carolo and Pandolfo, were besieging the city of Forli on behalf of the Florentine Republic, the army of Angelo della Pergola tried to break this siege on behalf of the Visconti, but he couldn’t penetrate the Florentine defenses set up around the city. Instead of contesting with the Malatesta further, della Pergola, decided to take his army north to attack the castle of Zangonara, and laid siege to it’s patron Alberico II da Barbiano, an ally of Florence. della Pergola got da Barbiano to sign an agreement that he would surrender the fortress to the Visconti if no help arrived within fifteen days. When word of this agreement reached Carlo Malatesta, he forcemarched his army of roughly 8,000-14,000 men (sources vary) up the Emilia plane toward Zangonara in terrible rainy-conditions—which was odd for this region in July according to contemporary accounts. Now that della Pergola was aware that the Malatesta had taken the bait, he started seeding the ground for the coming battle. He broke the locks on the local canals, and flooded the area around the castle that was feeding the fortresses moat and set up defensive works to impede the approach of cavalry. When the Florentine army arrived in theater, they were exhausted after a brutal forced march through the mud and rain, only to find their final approach toward the Visconti forces riddled with pitfalls and further mud.
A day passed as Carlo and Pandolfo observed the field, yet in spite of their recontouring and observations, on the morning of June 28th, at 10am, the bad-head bro’s™ decided that the best course of action was a forward frontal cavalry charge across muddy terrain—to glory boys! Despite della Pergola’s Milanese forces being outnumbered, he knew he’d prepared the battlefield well, and that only limited tracks would permit a direct attack along the western wall of the castle, he also knew the Malatesta well, as he’d learned to ply the trade under their tutelage, so there was a quiet confidence about the Visconti commander as the Florentine forces set-up in their battle array. With a braying of trumpets the first wave of heavy cavalry under Ardizzone da Carrara set to a canter across the muddy field—struggling to gain momentum, they urged their mounts on, and with the field not yet fully masticated by hooves and sabatons, they managed to gain sufficient momentum to slam into the forward ranks of the Milanese infantry, driving them back. da Carrara’s men thought they’d won the day, and started looting the corpses of the fallen Milanese when they were hit with a counterattack led by Guido Torelli aimed at their flank. The Florentinues managed to hold together, but when a second wave of Florentine cavalry didn’t materialize, they surrendered to the Visconti men-at-arms.
Undaunted by the initial confusion, Carlo Malatesta prepared his second line, led by Niccolò and Gentile Orsini. This wave met stiff resistance as the localized forces of della Pergola and Torelli had pulled back to a further fortified position. The Orsini charge was now hampered by the well churned mud of the original track used by Torelli and a new field-afar even more inundated with the waters of the canal, this charge never gained the momentum necessary to break the lines of the Milanese forces and stalled at the battlements. The desperate fight that ensued saw Orso Orsini suffer a fate which soon became commonplace among the Florentine Knights, Orsini was unhorsed and became so encumbered by the morass that he was unable to free himself due to the weight of his armor and drowned in the mud. The Florentines, in spite of the trials of the terrain managed to clear the battlements, but when they made it to the gate of the fortified Visconti siege camp, their luster had waned, then to make matters worse, it started to rain—again, further depleting Florentine moral. Recognizing this, Angelo della Pergola unleashed his forces in a vicious counterattack. The Florentines fought valiantly, but after five hours of battle they were forced to retreat. Unfortunately for the Florentines and our Bentivoglio hero’s the way toward the camp was now a bog, and their horses started to sink as men harried them from the rear with pikes, partisans, and poleaxes, what started as an organized withdraw turned into a route. Carlo Malatesta before laying down his arms is said to have shouted at della Pergola, “You muddy villain, I’m better than you, you puppet of the duke.”8
All told the Visconti army captured between 3,000-5,000 horses, and 2,000 infantrymen, along with the captains Carlo Malatesta, Gentile Orsini, Ardizzone da Carrara, Carlo di Montalboddo, and Taliano da Furlano; the total cost and ransom of which is said to have set the Florentinesback some 300,000 Florins. A contemporary chronicler quipped that among the Milanese soldiers, “everyone who went on foot, left on horseback.” Not all of the Florentine forces were killed or captured though, Pandolfo Malatesta managed to escape the battlefield and fled to Ravenna, then hopped on the first boat back to Rimini, while Niccolò da Tolentino retreated to Cessena. Antongaleazzo and Ercole Bentivoglio were captured during the battle and ransomed by degli Albizzi in September of 1424.
In 1426 the Bentivolgio had managed to finally make peace with the Pope, through the good graces of Cosimo di Medici and Rinaldo degli Albizzi (who, himself had just reconciled with the Pope), and joined the mercenary company of Micheletto Attendolo {More on this later}. It’s interesting to note that Annibale Bentivoglio, now 13 years old took command of twenty lances as a mercenary captain alongside his father at this time. By 1428 the good ol’ Canteoli had decided it was their turn to rule supreme in Bologna and chucked poor Alonso Carrillo, the papal legate, out of the city. Martin V responded by sending his captains Jacopo Caldora and Micheletto Attendolo to deal with the upstarts. Along with these valiant captains was our dear friend Antongaleazzo Bentivoglio in the role of Papal commissioner, with the stipulation that the Bentivoglio (he and his brother), could under no circumstance enter the city of Bologna. Antongaleazzo and Ercole—based on their playboy exploits in Florence—weren’t exactly having a rough go of things along the Arno, and decided revenge suited them just fine. The siege lasted two years, after which the Canetoli faction agreed to a truce on the Pope’s terms.
In the subsequent campaigns where Micheletto Attendolo was awarded his first independent conduct on behalf of the Florentines against the Lucchese and Sienese, in the Sienese wars, between 1431-1433 Annibale Bentivoglio— who was now 18 years old serving his first conduct without his father— contributed the following numbers to Attendolo’s company: 1431; 21 2/3 Lances (by reference this was the second largest company of lances in Attendolo’s army, Attendolo’s own company provided 36 Lances), 1432; 54 Cavalli, 1433; 36 Cavalli. Then later in Attendolo’s campaign against Fortebraccio on behalf of the new Pope Eugenus IV from 1434-1435 he contributed the following: 1434; unknown, 1435; 36 Cavalli, 1436; 36 Cavalli, 1437; 36 Cavalli, and finally in 1438 Annibale provided another 36 Cavalli.9
While Antongaleazo stayed in the Emilia region, trying to pry the last vestiges of Canetoli control from Bologna, Annibale spent his formative years learning the art of war from Attendolo, and his hardened men. Annibale’s presence in the muster rolls of Micheletto’s company in 1432 means that he was present at the battle of San Romano, which is where we will now turn our attention before heading back to our main subject, Filippo Dardi.
The battle of San Romano, immortalized by the artwork of Paolo Uccello is a contentious battle in the overall hierarchy of 15th century pitched battles—which were rare—mostly because of the fame it’s received from Uccello’s triptych, and the rather underwhelming tactical nature of the battle itself. It’s principle commanders were heavily criticized by later commentators like Niccolo Machiavelli, who asserted that Niccolò da Tolentino and Micheletto Attendolo conducted war in such a way that it became, “…an art by which they contrived generally to have both sides lose, and which they had finally reduced to a level so base that any mediocre captain, with even a shadow of reborn ancient virtue, could have put to shame these men upon whom Italy was then heaping honors imprudently.”10 The reality is a bit more compelling than this bitter tripe leveled by Machiavelli.
In November of 1431, Emperor Sigismund of Hungary crossed the Alps into Milan, and was given the Iron Crown as King of Italy—or the Lombard Crown11. Not one to settle for less, Sigismund worked his way down to Siena, to tend to his Italian fiefdoms, the loyal Ghibelline cities that still clung to the Empire, and used his new perch in Tuscany to negotiate his official coronation as Holy Roman Emperor with Pope Eugenus IV and the recognition of the council of Basel, while dealing with the brewing conflict in the region between Florence and Lucca.
The presence of the Emperor in Tuscany complicated the Florentines expansionist plans. Upon the recession of the Visconti empire after the death of Gian Galeazzo Visconti and the subsequent infighting between his heirs—which destabilized the Lombard lords—the Florentines started to look for ways to go on the offensive, and the first city on their post-Visconti wish list was Lucca, a wealthy banking city with a vibrant silk industry. In 1431, the progression of this conflict would afford Micheletto Attendolo the opportunity to peel away from the army of Jacopo Caldora; which was once again besieging Bologna, to replace the beleaguered Bernardino degli Ubaldini; who had been conducting operations on behalf of the Florentines, and assume his first independent command. Attendolo raised 600 lances (1621 cavalry) and 200 Infantry to fight against Lucchese and now Sienese, who joined the Lucchese cause of liberty, fearing they were next on Florence’s expansionist agenda. However, after the Florentines had managed to secretly bribe Francesco Sforza (who was serving the Visconti at the time) to step away from the conflict—to the tune of 50,000 Ducats—Micheletto, botched his golden opportunity, and suffered a heavy defeat during failed night assault on the city of Lucca. Unsurprisingly, he was relieved of command, and pulled his company back to Pisa to regroup.
This was about the time, that Cosimo di Medici started to find his voice in the signoria of Florence and convinced the Dieci—the Florentine war council—to hire his close friend Niccolo da Tolentino. Tolentino had been fighting on behalf of the Pope, at the time Martin V—prior to his death, against the Colonna; who’d just staged a coup in Rome, which Tolentino put down, and was given the fiefdom of Borgo San Sepolcro as a token of gratitude. Tolentino, upon taking the baton from the Florentines, arrived in theater, from Rome, through Perugia, and set up in Arezzo where he got to work quickly. He added the necessary troops to his company and marched to San Gismondo, then to Fiume to block the advance of Emperor Sigismund who was departing from Siena. When the emperor redirected his forces, Tolentino took the opportunity to snatch a Sienese castle near Orvieto, before returning to Arezzo to await the Florentine delegate Luca degli Albizzi.
It was about this time that Tolentino’s scouts and spies reported that a new army was entering Sienese territory. After helping the Umbrians put down a revolt near Città di Castello and taking command of a venture company as a member of the Council of Basel, Francesco Piccinino, was called to help Sigismund deal with the Florentines in Siena and Lucca. It bears mentioning, for future consideration, that prior to this episode, back in May of 1431, when Piccinino, Attendolo, and Tolentino were all aiding Jacopo Caldora in his campaign against Bologna, a strange event took place. Francesco while in camp near Imola became aware of a plot to assassinate him, a plot he swore was planned out by the Florentines, he allegedly heard the signal to enact this devious plot slip out of Micheletto Attendolo’s lips—perhaps over a glass of wine—and fled the camp with seven trusted men. He found refuge in Perugia, and had the Perugians plead his case to Pope Eugenius the IV, imploring him to nullify his contract with the Florentines, and free his men from their service. It’s important to note here, because Piccinino didn’t just point the finger at the Florentines when he had the Perugians spill the beans to the Pope, he pointed the finger at Tolentino and Attendolo too.
So, when Tolentino got word that it was Piccinino slithering across the Apennines, he devised a little surprise for his old pal. Snitches got more than stitches in Renaissance Italy. Piccinino stopped in Siena to resupply, met with the emperor and bolstered his company; which included adding a few knights from the emperor’s own retinue, 10 Germans, 8 Hungarians, and 5 Frenchmen, to his already mixed company of primarily Lombard and Umbrian cavalry, totaling 449 cavalli and 100 infantry.12 To make Piccinino feel welcome, Tolentino had his scouts closely follow the movement of his men and report every detail of his whereabouts. When word came that Piccinino’s company had left Sienna, and that they were far enough from the city, one night in June of 1432, Toloentino and 700 handpicked men, moved to ambush Piccinino’s forces, but Piccinino was forewarned—again—and managed to escape.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Tolentino used his proximity to Montepulciano to sneak some supplies to the garrison of the besieged city. Then, in 24 hours his small army raided seventy kilometers of Sienese and Luccese territory, driving 6000 head of stolen cattle, before setting camp, and diverting course to Val d'Elsa, where the Florentine delegates wanted him to threaten the Sienese sieges of Linari and Gambassi, as Val d’Elsa was within easy striking distance of both of these cities, and was strategically situated on the terminal point of the Elsa River. Frustrated Florentine observers chastised Tolentino for using the next three days to add men to his army, bringing his total troops from 700 to 3,500 (2,000 cavali, 1,500 infantry). Tolentino had been receiving word of a Sienese army moving in the area, and decided he couldn’t wait any longer. Satisfied with the size of his army, Tolentino sent a small relief force to harry the garrison of Linari, while he took care of the relief force looking to spoil his party. Meanwhile the Florentines were imploring Micheletto Attendolo to get his company back on its feet, and to meet Tolentino in the vicinity of Val d’Elsa to pressure the Sienese, but Attendolo wouldn’t budge from Pisa. When you have a hat as epically large as Micheletto, it takes a while for your ego to heal—that’s science.
The army Tolentino was tracking along the Arno, near Val di Nievole, was a Milanese army consisting of Antonio della Pergola, Bernadino degli Ubaldini (the former Florentine captain), Antonio da Pontedera, and Giacomo di Vico, when word reached the Milanese condottiere that Tolentino’s army had mobilized, they quickly concluded their raid and redirected toward Valdarno. While Tolentino was away, Linari fell to the Sienese forces, and upon his return, he was forced to conduct a quick and brutal siege, using four light bombards to blast holes in the walls of the town. As Tolentino was occupied in Linari, the Milanese under Ubaldini connected with the Sienese forces of Francesco Piccinino. Tolentino was the small fish now, but rather than shy away from the gathering storm, Niccolo readied his men to march.
Sources differ as to what happens next, as various political pundits vying to have their narrative carried aloft in the realm of divisive Florentine political discourse took varying positions on the lead up and the outcome of the battle of San Romano. I personally don’t think that Tolentino was inept, I tend to agree with Matteo Palmieri’s description of the battle, so that’s what we will follow here—for the most part. In my opinion Tolentino’s campaign up to this point was quick, mobile and decisive, he covered a lot of territory with a small force and managed to keep most of the fires he was in charge of managing from getting out of control, and further worsening his position. Let’s get to the battle.
On the morning of June 1st, 1432, a rider was dispatched from Niccolo Tolentino’s camp. The currier rode at a breakneck pace for Pisa, and when they arrived at the camp of Micheletto Attendolo handed over an urgent letter. This, according to Neri di Gino Capponni, was the first step in a strategic masterclass. While his currier rode for Pisa, Tolentino’s own men disembarked their camp for Montopoli, where the combined forces of Francesco Piccinino and Bernadino degli Ubaldini had billeted their men. When scouts from the Sienese camp returned with word that Tolentino’s forces were approaching, the Sienese army started to withdraw toward San Romano and the safety of the river. Observant of his approach toward the now settled positions of the adversary, Tolentino started to call out commands to his troops. According to Palmieri, “Niccolo dispatched three companies leftward through the vineyards and brambles toward Montopoli, under orders to wait, until after the battle had begun.”13
With a clear understanding of the approaching terrain, Nicolo Tolentino had his men line up in their battle arrays—five companies deep—and started their slow methodical march toward of the crest of the hill and the plain of San Romano beyond. Three companies stayed at the crest, while Tolentino personally led the two primary attacking lines into the valley below. With the tension building, as both armies eyed one another; horses snorting, and men pissing down their legs, Niccolo dispatched one final courier to Pisa. Making the sign of the cross he willed his men to charge.
His two companies clashed with those of the Sienese forces under Bernadino degli Ubaldini, Tolentino’s attack started to wane when his three flanking companies emerged from the brambles to the left of the hill turning the tide back in his favor. Then, upon seeing the three companies emerge from the tree line, the final three squadrons holding fast on the crest of the hill descended into the plain themselves. His army fully committed, Tolentino’s men started to take the worst of the fighting as the Milanese units began to fully deploy onto the field of battle, and overwhelmed them with sheer numbers. The fighting raged for about three hours, pole axes, swords and maces pummeling armor, horses screaming, and men crying out to God for mercy, while the Florentine outfit fought desperately to hold fast and fight valiantly against all odds, before dawn broke and Micheletto Attendolo—at last—appeared from the west.
Micheletto Attendolo’s men wasted no time, assuming their battle arrays, and charged headlong into the fray. The Milanese and Sienese forces were entirely routed. Micheletto and Niccolo were immortalized forever. Another account by a rather salty cynic has a bit of a different take, he asserts that Tolentino overextended himself and walked into a trap and was nearly in tears panicking on the battlefield before the triumphant arrival of Attendolo. Now, the reason I threw that story about Michaletto and Tolentino being implicated in an attempted assassination of Piccinino, is partly because of that account. If I was Tolentino, and I had not only tried to murder, but later ambush someone in the dark, and I found myself potentially at their mercy in an epic battle where victory was not assured, I’d probably be pretty worried too. However, I find Pope-Hennessy’s description to lack repose. I prefer the narrative of Palmieri, who provides tremendous intimate detail, and was likely the source that inspired Uccello’s masterpiece.
So, what does any of this have to do with Filippo Dardi? Nothing? Maybe. However, it has everything to do with who Annibale Bentivoglio was. Typically, a boy would start their training as a knight at the age of 12, we know that at the age of 13 Annibale was already leading 20 lances. Who was training him? Was it Dardi? In 1434 in the wake of the battle and tremendous fame of San Romano, where Annibale Bentivoglio stood triumphantly in Attendolo’s company leading at least 54 cavalli, Filippo Dardi published a fencing treatise. Where was Dardi for the last 22 years? Could he have left Bologna to join the venture company of the Bentivoglio, did he follow Annibale when the young boy left his father to learn the trade of a condottiere under Micheletto Attendolo? We may never know, but in the next installment of The Art of Arms we’ll learn more about Annibale's life, and how his story continues to overlap with Dardi’s.
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Contado: The rural periphery of Bolognese territory
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Fabio Belsanti. Homes and arms of the Magnificent Lord Messer Michele de li Attendoli di Contti di Cotignola. History, stories, songs and battles of a Company of Ventura in Renaissance Italy. Academia.edu
ANGELO DELLA PERGOLA - Condottieri di ventura
ARDIZZONE DA CARRARA - Condottieri di ventura
GUIDO TORELLI - Condottieri di ventura
ANTONGALEAZZO BENTIVOGLIO - Condottieri di ventura
MAURUZZI, Niccolò in "Dizionario Biografico" (treccani.it)
NICCOLÒ DA TOLENTINO - Condottieri di ventura
BERNARDINO DEGLI UBALDINI DELLA CARDA - Condottieri di ventura
ANTONIO DA PONTEDERA/ANTONIO DA PISA (condottieridiventura.it)
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Griffiths, Gordon. “The Political Significance of Uccello’s Battle of San Romano.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, vol. 41, 1978, pp. 313–16. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/750874. Accessed 17 Aug. 2023. Pg. 314