Italian Yesterdays, vol. 2

by Mrs. Hugh Fraser

The chronicler, Domenico Gravina, relates how that a few days later Count Charles was found dead in his prison, the lips covered with a bloody froth, and the wrists all gnawed away—so we may suppose him to have died either of rage or of some corrosive poison; or, very likely, of both. And not long afterwards his son Bertrand, in despair, hanged himself from a grating in the vault at Malfi, into which he had been transferred by order of Catherine of Taranto.

But retribution, as condign as it was merited, was about to fall upon the head of that wicked woman.

On returning, laden with her ill-gotten spoils, to Naples, her triumph was dashed to the ground to learn that, during her absence, Charles of Durazzo, her ancient enemy and that of her house, had once more sent word to Joan, demanding that she should instantly create him Duke of Calabria, and so acknowledge him to be the rightful heir to the throne as the husband of her sister Maria. This demand the Queen had rejected with contumely; and Charles, stung to madness by her refusal, had thereupon sent back word to inform her that he had accordingly written to King Louis of Hungary, inviting him to take possession of the kingdom and promising to deliver to him the chief murderers of his brother Andrew, who had so far escaped the just consequences of their iniquity.

It was now indispensable, as Joan saw clearly, to secure the public opinion of Europe to her side in the life-and-death struggle with her implacable foe. Therefore, she sent ambassadors to plead her cause with the Florentine Republic and to exonerate her of the crime generally imputed to her of having caused the murder of her husband. She even wrote in the same sense to the Hungarian King himself; but only received for reply a letter in which Louis of Hungary enumerated the proofs against her—her disordered life both before and after marriage; the exclusive power that she had arrogated to herself; the fact that it had been in no way owing to her exertions that King Andrew’s murderers had ever been brought to justice, and that she had so quickly taken another husband in his place—all of which certainly pointed to Joan’s aggravated guilt.

Indeed, the King of Hungary had already, on receipt of Charles of Durazzo’s letter, written back to accept the offer of the throne and to say that he would at once set about making preparations for coming down to Naples at the head of a large army of Hungarians. For, apart from Charles’ invitation to him, King Louis, stirred up by love for his murdered brother, as well as by the tears of their mother, Elizabeth, and the incitement of the Dominican, Father Robert, who, after Andrew’s demise, had taken refuge in Budapesth, was now entirely bent on avenging his brother to the utmost of his ability.

He had in the past made strong endeavours to obtain from the Pope at Avignon a condemnation of Joan herself and of her accomplices of the Blood Royal, complaining that whereas the less prominent members of the plot against his brother had suffered the just penalty of their sins, yet the principal authors of it had been let to go unpunished; and that Joan herself, the most guilty of all, had been suffered to continue with impunity her career of shameless immorality. To which the Holy Father had answered that the Queen’s conduct, both during and after the murder of her husband, was of a surety most blameworthy; but that, no tangible proof of complicity in Andrew’s death having been brought against her, he, the Pope, although willing to do justice to all parties in so far as in him lay, could not condemn Joan upon mere hearsay evidence. Should such good and solid evidence be produced before him against her, however, he would not fail to deal with her accordingly; until then he must suspend judgment.

As before, it was again the Empress Catherine who came to the rescue of the situation in which her son and his wife were now placed by the action of Charles of Durazzo in inviting Louis of Hungary’s intervention against them. As she saw clearly, the only thing left for them to do now was to come to terms with their nearest enemy Charles himself, and to bribe him to combine with them against the invader who was already hastening to overwhelm them. Accordingly,, she arranged a truce with Charles; and, together with Joan and Louis of Taranto, met him in the gardens of the Castel Nuovo, where it was agreed between him and Joan that he should be created Duke of Calabria and formally acknowledged as the heir to the throne. In return he was to join forces with Joan and Louis against the King of Hungary. So soon as this agreement had been carried out, Charles, who now saw himself within measurable distance of the throne itself, set out from Naples with all the troops that could be spared for the purpose, for the city of Aquila, where the populace was already declaring for Louis of Hungary. With him went also Robert of Taranto, who had become reconciled to his brother Louis in this the hour of the latter’s greatest danger. And, just as they departed for Aquila, the Empress Catherine, who was watching the troops defile along the street towards the Porta Capuana, was taken suddenly ill and died, without speaking again, in the evening of the same day.

In the meantime the King of Hungary had already entered Italy from the north, and had struck into the Neapolitan territory on the side of Apulia; and the news of his coming filled the Court of Naples with dismay. For it had been hoped that his progress might have been stayed by a legate whom the Pope had sent to meet him at Fogligno, within a long day’s march of the Neapolitan frontier, and to bar the way to him with a threat of excommunication if he dared to advance any further without the permission of the Holy Father; but the Hungarian had refused to pay any attention to Papal remonstrances, and had continued on his way through the States of the Church into the Kingdom of Naples.

On learning of these events Queen Joan, hastily assembling such of the nobles as she knew to be loyal to her, made them swear fidelity to Louis of Taranto, her husband, and then took ship by night in one of her own Provençal galleys for Marseilles, the port of Avignon, which belonged to her—so that she was, in a sense, the landlady of the Pope. So soon, then, as Joan had departed to seek refuge at the Papal Court, Louis of Taranto, taking with him his dead mother’s Counsellor, Nicholas Acciajuoli, set out with a small force for the citadel of Capua on the River Volturno, thinking there to check the enemy. Unhappily, though, the Hungarian monarch, obtaining information of his adversary’s movements, turned aside, and, marching round the flank of the Neapolitan forces by way of the mountains of Alife and Morcone, seized upon the city of Benevento, in rear of Louis of Taranto’s army.

At Benevento, however, the King of Hungary was met by a deputation of Neapolitan subjects, who, frightened by the rapidity of his advance, as well as by the Queen’s flight and by the sudden departure of her husband for they knew not what place, had decided to make the best terms they could for themselves with the revengeful newcomer. And so they brought him the keys of the city, and made submission to him as the rightful successor of the late King Robert. The news of this event soon reached Louis of Taranto’s army, and at once a vile panic set in, and very soon Louis found himself deserted by all save only the faithful, intrepid Acciajuoli; for there was more courage beneath the lawyer’s gown than beneath the breastplates of all the army. Resistance to the Hungarian was no longer possible for Louis; and, together with Acciajuoli, he returned to Naples in the evening of the day on which he had learned of the Hungarian’s arrival at Benevento. At Naples, Louis was met by his brother Robert and by Charles of Durazzo, both of whom, as well as all his other relations, entreated him to go away at once, lest he should bring down the wrath of the Hungarian upon them and upon the whole city. Turning his back upon the cowards, Louis went down to the seashore and, accompanied as ever by the loyal Acciajuoli, embarked in a crazy, rotten rowing-boat manned by four sailors, thanks to whose devotion he ultimately reached Leghorn; whence he shortly joined Queen Joan in their kingdom of Provence.