"You should know," Faria began, his voice soft but steady, "that I was the personal secretary and close friend of Cardinal Spada, the last prince of that ancient family. I owe all my happiness, all my fortune in life, to that noble man. He was a figure of rare dignity, though burdened with disappointments. He wasn’t actually rich, despite his family’s reputation for wealth. People used to say ’rich as a Spada’ as if it were a proverb, repeated across Italy with a smile. But the Cardinal, though noble, lived only off that fading reputation, and yet his palace became my paradise."
Dantès found himself leaning forward despite his skepticism, caught by the conviction in the old man’s tone.
"I tutored his nephews," Faria continued, "and when they died young, I devoted myself completely to serving him. The Cardinal’s house held no secrets from me, and I often watched him late into the night, poring over ancient tomes and yellowed parchments, as though searching for a truth lost to time. One day, when I dared to complain about his endless and fruitless research, he smiled bitterly, as if amused by my impatience, and opened a heavy history book about Rome. In the twentieth Chapter, which spoke of the reign of Pope Alexander VI, my eyes fell upon lines I have never forgotten..."
Faria’s voice took on a dramatic tone as he recounted the historical tale:
"The great wars in central Italy had ended. Caesar Borgia, who had conquered vast territories, needed money to buy all of Italy. The Pope also needed funds to deal with the King of France, who was still a threat despite recent defeats. So they devised a profitable scheme, though it was difficult in impoverished Italy. The Pope had a brilliant idea: he would make two new cardinals."
"By choosing two of Rome’s richest men, the Pope could profit in multiple ways. First, he could sell all the high positions and offices these men already held. Second, he could sell the cardinal positions themselves. And third... well, that part comes later." The rightful source is novel⟡fire.net
"The Pope and Caesar Borgia selected their targets: Giovanni Rospigliosi, who held four of the highest positions in the Church, and Caesar Spada, one of Rome’s noblest and wealthiest men. Both felt honored by the Pope’s attention. They were ambitious men, after all."
"The scheme worked perfectly. Rospigliosi and Spada paid fortunes to become cardinals, while eight other people paid for the offices the new cardinals had to give up. Eight hundred thousand crowns flowed into the conspirators’ coffers."
"But now came the final phase of their plan. The Pope showered attention on both new cardinals, officially invested them with their new ranks, and convinced them to move to Rome permanently. Then the Pope and Caesar Borgia invited both cardinals to dinner."
Dantès leaned forward, completely absorbed despite himself.
"This dinner invitation sparked a debate between father and son. Caesar wanted to use one of his usual methods, like the famous key he gave to certain people. This key had a small iron point that pricked whoever used it to open a particular cabinet. The victim would die the next day. Or there was the ring with a lion’s head that Caesar wore when greeting friends. The lion would bite the person’s hand, and within twenty-four hours, the bite would prove fatal."
"Caesar suggested using one of these methods on the cardinals, but Pope Alexander had a better idea: ’Let’s invite both Spada and Rospigliosi to dinner. Something tells me we’ll recover our money that way. Besides, Caesar, indigestion acts immediately, while a prick or bite takes a day or two.’"
"The dinner was arranged at a vineyard near Rome, a charming retreat the cardinals knew by reputation. Rospigliosi arrived in high spirits, thrilled with his new position and eager to enjoy the company of his peers. But Spada was more cautious. Deeply attached to his nephew, a promising young army captain, he wrote out his will before leaving, sealing it with care and prayer. He sent word for his nephew to meet him near the vineyard, but apparently the messenger never found him, or else was deliberately delayed."
"Spada understood what these papal dinner invitations really meant. In the old days, a centurion would deliver Caesar’s message: ’Caesar wills that you die.’ But in these more civilized Christian times, a papal representative would arrive with a smile, saying, ’His Holiness requests the pleasure of your company at dinner.’"
"Spada arrived at the vineyard around two o’clock. The Pope was waiting, and the first thing Spada saw was his nephew, dressed in full military uniform, receiving marked attention from Caesar Borgia. Spada’s face went pale as Caesar looked at him with an ironic smile, clearly, the trap had been perfectly set."
"They began dinner, and Spada could only ask his nephew if he had received the message. The young man said no, though he understood perfectly what his uncle meant. Yet it was already too late, he had drunk a glass of excellent wine, carefully poured for him by the Pope’s own butler, whose expression betrayed nothing. At that same moment, another bottle was brought before Cardinal Spada, and he too was urged with solemn courtesy to taste it, as if it were a sacred honor."
"An hour later, a physician was summoned, and he declared without hesitation that both men had been poisoned by eating mushrooms. Spada fell lifeless on the vineyard’s threshold, his lips still dark with the last sip, while his nephew collapsed at his own doorstep, making desperate signs that his horrified wife could not understand, her cries echoing into the night."
"Caesar and the Pope immediately rushed to seize the inheritance, pretending to search for the dead man’s papers and private correspondence. But the entire legacy consisted of just a scrap of paper on which Spada had written: ’I bequeath to my beloved nephew my coffers, my books, and especially my prayer book with gold corners, which I hope he will preserve in memory of his loving uncle.’"