The Escape of Cæsar Borgia From the Castle of Medina del Campo
[CÆSAR BORGIA forms, with his father Pope Alexander VI., and his sister Lucrezia, one of a trio who have become a proverb for infamy of every kind. His father, Roderigo, was by birth a Spaniard, and by education a lawyer, in which profession he gained much distinction, till suddenly, with an impetuosity strange in a man who did everything by calculation, he threw up his legal career for that of a soldier. But the rough life was repugnant to one of his temperament, which demanded ease and luxury, so after a little active service, when his courage, during some sharp engagements, was proved beyond a doubt, he abandoned the army also, and retired to live in comfort on the large fortune lately bequeathed to him by his father.
It required some pressing on the part of his uncle, Calixtus III., recently made Pope, to induce him to leave his native land and his secular existence, for Italy and a Cardinalate. But no sooner did he occupy his new position, than a set of base qualities, which had hitherto lain dormant, suddenly developed themselves, and from this moment he became one of the cleverest and most successful hypocrites of his age.
It was in 1492, the year that saw the landing of Columbus in America, and the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent at Florence, that the Cardinal Borgia obtained, by means of huge bribes, his election to the Papal Throne, and took the name of Alexander VI. His first care was to establish (for his own credit’s sake) order and security in Rome, and this done, he turned his thoughts to the aggrandisement of his family. For when Roderigo sailed for Italy he was shortly followed by his four children, Francis, Cæsar, Lucrezia and Geoffrey, and their mother Rosa Vanozza. All four, but more particularly Cæsar and Lucrezia, inherited in the highest degree their father’s beauty, talents and wickedness. Honours of every kind were showered upon them, marriages made and unmade to suit the requirements of the moment, murders committed to ensure them wealth and possessions. For eleven years the roll of crime grew heavier day by day, till at last the chastisement came, and the Borgias, who had invited several of the Cardinals to supper for the purpose of poisoning them and seizing on their revenues, were themselves served with the draught they had intended for their guests. The Pope died after eight days, in mortal agony, but, owing to his having drunk less of the wine, Cæsar slowly recovered, and resumed his old trade of arms. The talents which had made him one of the first captains in Italy caused him to be the dread of all his enemies, and finally led to his capture (by violation of a safe-conduct), at the hands of Gonsalvo de Cordova, Captain of the Forces of Ferdinand of Spain.]
It was in June 1504 that Cæsar Borgia, General of the Church and Duke of Romagna and Valentinois, was conducted to the Castle of Medina del Campo in Spain. For two years Cæsar waited in prison, hoping that his old ally, Louis XII., whose cousin Mlle. d’Albret he had married, would come to his assistance. But he waited in vain and his courage began to give way, when one day something happened which proved to him that he had still one friend left, his faithful Michelotto, a soldier of fortune who had followed him to Spain, and was now hidden in the neighbourhood of the prison. It was breakfast time, and Cæsar was in the act of cutting his bread when he suddenly touched a hard substance, and found a file, and a small bottle containing a narcotic, and a note concealed in the loaf. The note was from Michelotto, and informed Cæsar that he and the Count of Benevento would hide themselves every night on the road between the castle and the village, in company with three good horses, and that he must make the best use he could of the file and the sleeping draught.27
Two years’ imprisonment had weighed too heavily on Cæsar for him to waste a single moment in trying to regain his freedom. He, therefore, lost no time in beginning to work on one of the bars of his window, which opened on an inside court, and soon contrived to cut through so far, that a violent shake would enable him to remove it altogether. But the window was nearly seventy feet above the ground, while the only way of leaving the court was by a door reserved for the governor alone, the key of which was always carried about his person. By day it was suspended from his belt, by night it was under his bolster. To gain possession of this key was the most difficult part of the matter.
Now in spite of the fact that he was a prisoner, Cæsar had invariably been treated with all the respect due to his name and rank. Every day at the dinner hour, he was conducted from the room in which he was confined to the governor’s apartments and was received by him as an honoured guest. Don Manuel himself was an old soldier who had served with distinction under Ferdinand, and, while carrying out punctually his orders for Cæsar’s safe custody, he admired his military talents, and listened with pleasure to the story of his fights. He had often desired that Cæsar should breakfast as well as dine with him, but, luckily for himself, the prisoner, perhaps aided by some presentiment, had always refused this favour. It was owing to his solitude that he was able to conceal the instruments for his escape sent by Michelotto.
Now it happened that the very same day that he had received them, Cæsar contrived to stumble, and twist his foot as he was returning to his room. When the hour of dinner came he tried to go down, but declared that walking hurt him so much, that he should be obliged to give it up, so the governor paid him a visit instead, and found him stretched on his bed.
The next day Cæsar was no better; his dinner was ordered to be served upstairs, and the governor paid him a visit as before. He found his prisoner so dull and bored with his own company, that he offered to come and share his supper. Cæsar accepted the offer with gratitude and joy.
This time it was the prisoner who did the honours of the table, and Cæsar was particularly charming and courteous in manner. The governor seized the opportunity of putting some questions as to his capture, and inquired, with the pride of a Castilian noble, who set honour above all, what was the exact truth as to the way in which Gonsalvo de Cordova and Ferdinand had broken their faith with him. Cæsar showed every disposition to give him satisfaction on this point, but indicated by a sign that he could not speak freely before the valets. This precaution was so natural, that the governor could not seem offended at it, and dismissed his attendants, so that he and his companion remained alone. When the door was shut, Cæsar filled his glass and that of the governor, and proposed the king’s health. The governor emptied his glass at once, and Cæsar began his story, but he had hardly told a third of it, when in spite of its exciting adventures, the eyes of his guest closed as if by magic, and his head fell on the table in a deep sleep.
At the end of half-an-hour, the servants, not hearing any noise, entered the room, and found the two boon companions, one on the table and the other under it. There was nothing very unusual about such an event to excite their suspicions, so they contented themselves with carrying Don Manuel to his chamber and laying Cæsar on his bed; they then locked the door with great care, leaving the prisoner alone.
For a minute or two longer Cæsar lay still, apparently plunged in a profound slumber, but when the sound of footsteps had completely died away, he softly raised his head, opened his eyes, and moved towards the door, rather slowly it is true, but without seeming to feel any ill-effects from his accident on the previous day. He stood still for a few seconds with his ear at the keyhole, then, raising himself, with a strange expression of triumph on his face, he passed his hand over his forehead, and, for the first time since the guards had left the room, breathed freely.
But there was no time to be lost, and without a moment’s delay he fastened the door from the inside as securely as it was fastened without. He next extinguished his lamp, threw open his window, and finished cutting through the bar. This done, he took off the bandages tied round his leg, tore down the curtains, both of his window and his bed, and made them into strips, adding to them sheets, table cloths, napkins, and whatever else he could lay hands on. At last he had a rope between fifty and sixty feet long, which he secured firmly at one end to the bar next to the one that he had sawn away, and mounting on the window-ledge, he began the most dangerous part of his expedition in trusting himself to this frail support. Happily, Cæsar was as strong as he was agile, and slid down the whole length of the cord without accident; but when he had reached the very end, in vain he tried to touch the earth with his feet. The rope was too short.
Cæsar’s position was terrible. The darkness of the night preventing his knowing how far he might be above the ground, and his exertions had so fatigued him that he could not have gone back even had he wished. There was no help for it, and, after muttering a short prayer, he let go the rope, and fell, a distance of twelve or fifteen feet.
The danger he had escaped was too great for the fugitive to mind some slight bruises caused by his fall, so he jumped up, and taking his bearings, made straight for the little door which stood between him and freedom. When he reached it he felt in his pocket for the key, and a cold sweat broke out on his face as he found it was not there. Had he forgotten it in his room, or had he lost it in his descent?
Collecting his thoughts as well as he could, he soon came to the conclusion that it must have fallen out of his pocket as he climbed down the rope. So he made his way a second time cautiously across the court, trying to discover the exact spot where it might be, by the aid of the wall of a cistern, which he had caught hold of to raise himself from the ground. But the lost key was so small and so insignificant, that there was little chance that he would ever see it. However, it was his last resource, and Cæsar was searching for it with all his might, when suddenly a door opened and the night patrol came out, preceded by two torches. At first Cæsar gave himself up for lost, then, remembering the water-butt that was behind him, he at once plunged into it up to his neck, watching with intense anxiety the movements of the soldiers who were advancing towards his hiding place. They passed him within a few feet, crossed the court, and vanished through the door opposite; but, though all this had taken such a very short time, the light of the torches had enabled Cæsar to distinguish the key lying on the ground, and hardly had the gate closed on the soldiers when he was once more master of his liberty.
Half-way between the castle and the village the Count of Benevento and Michelotto awaited him with a led horse. Cæsar flung himself on its back and all three set out for Navarre, where, after three days’ hard riding, they found an asylum with the king, Jean d’Albret, brother of Cæsar’s wife.