Pope Alexander's Last Travel, 1410

By Francesco Chiappelli

Written as a historical narrative, Pope Alexander's Last Travel relates the story of an individual, who happens to be Pope Alexander V, as he is forced into a perilous crossing of snow-capped mountains with his papal Court in early Spring 1410. It focuses on the human story of the man, as it might have been, constructed about the hi

• Language: English
• Publisher: St. Polycarp Publishing House
• Release date: Nov 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781947707399

Book preview

Preface

On a late Summer day, close to 25 years ago, I met Clelia in Rome. We had a simple lunch at the neighborhood trattoria. She was happy and light-hearted, eager to chat with this young man she hardly knew. The purpose of our meeting is irrelevant for this discussion, suffice it to say that we had corresponded for a while, and we both were glad to share a couple of hours together. She was past her eighties, and in fact passed away a few months after our meeting. May she rest in peace - she was, we could say, a good soul, a lady of many undeniable charms and qualities.

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This writing is dedicated to Clelia.

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As we spoke, she became very excited at one point: she remembered something very important, she felt, she had to tell me - you know, she said, abbiamo un papa in famiglia, we have a pope in the family. She told me to go to the Island of Saint Jules on the lake of Orta to find the proof.

So started a 25-year-plus research on this pope, Alexander V: national archives in diverse cities of Italy, historical records, chronicles, academic papers and books by various authors in a variety of languages, including Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, German and English, her family archives, which her own mother had compiled before World War II, and archives of related families as they were kindly made available to me, and any other sort of authenticated information I could get my hands on. And yes, this included published Italian, British and French encyclopedias, and more recently Wikipedia, and a variety of websites. I acknowledge all these sources at this point, a partial list of which I present at the end of this book, because this novel is based on documented historical facts.

It is a story that connects established events of history. In some instance that connection is established by means of popular tales and legends. In other parts of the novel, the historical facts are connected by creative fictional elaborations of what the most likely uchronic set of occurrences might have been to lead from this to that. Principally, this writing attempts to relate the story of an individual, who happens to be Pope Alexander V, as he is forced into a perilous crossing of snow-capped mountains with his papal Court in early Spring 1410. It focuses on the human story of the man, as it might have been, constructed about the historical facts that are known to all and well established in scholarly documents and original records.

A few years after that Summer day lunch in Rome with Clelia, and having traversed significant events in my own life, I was ready to leave the secular life behind, and join the Catholic priesthood. My good friend for over two decades, Father Edward, had guided me and counseled me during my personal spiritual growth.

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This writing is dedicated to Fr. Ed.

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By then, and following many lengthy conversations with him, and guided by the Spirit, I was ready to take the next step: from being a Secular Franciscan, for which I had made my Promise a decade earlier, to undergoing Formation for my formal Vows as a Franciscan friar, and eventually the seminary to be ordained Franciscan priest. Fr Ed had guided me through that, and has continued to guide me ever since as one of my dearest and most trusted friends.

As it turned out, as I was leaving the secular life, one of the last - no, now that I think of it, the very last new acquaintance I made was Olivia. We met just four weeks before my de facto detachment, as it were, was going to commence. I quickly realized how good a person she was to become a good friend with. In fact, we very soon discovered that there was much more to that: that we were each other's soul mates, that we were meant for eternity to meet and complete each other by fulfilling each other in each other. We both personified love for each other and in each other, and it is not surprising that, within a few months, we were bound together in the Sacrament of Matrimony. Needless to mention the rather intense searching this entire process provoked in my mind, heart and soul.

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This work, and all my work since, is dedicated to Olivia.

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In all these years, Olivia has encouraged me and supported all my interests, research, writings and thoughts. We traveled together to visit archives and cemeteries, and our work is far from over. I owe to her all because she has helped me realize that all has been gifts from God, to Whom this and all always must be offered - freely! as He gives freely, so must we freely give back. She is my inspiration, my strength, my most constructive critic, my muse.

It is not clear to me what she finds in me, but I must acknowledge Fredi and America, and their forefathers. It is they, with the benevolent assistance of my older sister, Marina, who helped me become, by their teaching, examples, suggestions and corrections, who I am today: whom God meant for me to become.

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This work is dedicated to them as well, in kind remembrance and thanksgiving.

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They and my friends and benefactors along the years have sustained me and pushed me ahead. None more certainly than our dearest friends Rick and Sylvia. We have traveled with them in many places around this beautiful earth, and have recently discovered the majesty of Montecatini Alto and the mountains of Pistoia. That, and his plan to travel presently in pilgrimage across the Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela, re-awakened in me the need to finish this decades-long endeavor: writing the story of Pope Alexander across the mountains of Pistoia in the early Spring 1410.

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These paragraphs and pages and chapters that follow are dedicated to all the loving family and friends God has blessed our lives with, and particularly to Sylvia and to Rick.

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They have asked me many times to commit to paper the stories and legends, the facts and the thoughts that traverse these poor old neurons of mine. So there you have it!

But one word of caution: I am a scientist not a historian, nor a philosopher, nor a theologian, nor a Latinist. Therefore, I beg forgiveness for any shortcomings of my research and writing in the pages that follow. In the words of St. Bonaventure (Preface to Iter Mentis in Deum, the journey of the mind to God):

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...rogo igitur, quod magis pensetur intentio scribentis, quam opus, magis dictorum sensus quam sermo incultus, magis veritas quam venustas, magis exercitatio affectus quam eruditio intellectus. Quod ut fiat, non est harum speculationum progressus perfunctorie transcurrendus, sed morosissime ruminandus

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I ask therefore, that the intent with which this writing was crafted be given greater thought (weight, value) than the thoughts written in my uncultured style, greater its genuine intent than its perhaps vain and forced attempt at charm, greater the sincerity of its intent than its undoubtedly failed attempt at intellectual erudition. Because as it is, the intent of this work does not consist in the speculations it proffers, but rather it is meant to induce some meditation upon what might have been [of the last weeks of Pope Alexander] ...

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(with the sincere hope that Bonaventure forgives me for the very very very loose translation of his words)

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In brief, I thank you for reading the pages that follow, and, in the words of the XX Century German poet Elli Michler, I wish you time.

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Ich wünsche dir nicht alle möglichen Gaben.

Ich wünsche dir nur, was die meisten nicht haben:

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, dich zu freun und zu lachen, und wenn du sie nützt, kannst du etwas draus machen.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit für dein Tun und dein Denken, nicht nur für dich selbst, sondern auch zum Verschenken.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, nicht zum Hasten und Rennen, sondern die Zeit zum Zufriedenseinkönnen.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, nicht nur so zum Vertreiben.

Ich wünsche, sie möge dir übrigbleiben als Zeit für das Staunen und Zeit für Vertraun, anstatt nach der Zeit auf der Uhr nur zu schaun.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, nach den Sternen zu greifen, und Zeit, um zu wachsen, das heißt, um zu reifen.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, neu zu hoffen, zu lieben. Es hat keinen Sinn, diese Zeit zu verschieben.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, zu dir selber zu finden, jeden Tag, jede Stunde als Glück zu empfinden.

Ich wünsche dir Zeit, auch um Schuld zu vergeben. Ich wünsche dir Zeit zu haben zum Leben!

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I do not wish you all sorts of gifts.

I just wish you, what most people don’t have:

I wish you time: the time to be happy and to laugh and if you use it wisely, you can make something of it.

I wish you the time for your actions and thinking, not only for yourself, but also to give away.

I wish you the time – not to hurry and run, but the time to know how to be content.

I wish you the time – not to simply just pass

I wish that you have enough time to be amazed and to trust, rather than just having to look at the watch.

I wish you the time to reach for the stars, and the time to grow, to mature.

I wish you the time to hope anew and to love. It makes no sense to postpone this time.

I wish you the time to find yourself, to see the happiness in each day and each hour.

I wish you the time to forgive. I wish you the time to have to live!

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Ich wünsche dir Zeit zu haben zum Lesen, I wish you the time to have read.

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In finis, may this writing, the product of my many years, months, days and hours of research, work, writing and editing, as all our efforts and endeavors always should, only and most humbly serve to further the honor and ...

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… la gloria di Colui che tutto move

per l’universo penetra e risplende

in una parte più e meno altrove ….

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...the glory of He who moves all,

which penetrates and shines through the universe,

in a place more and less in another...

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(Dante Alighieri, 1265–1321;

La Divina Commedia , Paradiso, I 1–3)

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Francesco Chiappelli

Porter Ranch, California

Die Sancti Josephi, day of Saint Joseph, 19 March 2017

Prologue

On a very, very old wall in the back of the original apse of the only church on the tiny island of St. Jules, which is delicately laid like a pearl, ‘a tear of the Longobard goddess Frigga’ some might say, while others would defend ‘like a rose of the Virgin,’ in the middle of the lake of Orta, one reads:

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Quintus Alexander de religione minor(um) ex Crusinali Dominis fuit iste monarca, Sacre Scripture vir in artibus atque supremus sicut testantur libri quos scripsit in ipsis, Novariae praesul archipraesul liguriumque, cardin(e)ae turbae collegaque, Papa Beatus, integer ut vivens virgo fuit, integer et nunc, corpore Bononiae, qui corpora languida sanat. Epitaphium fratris Petri Novariensis epsic(opi Alexandri) papae V demum nom(inati)

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Alexander V of the Order of the Minors was this Pontiff, of the Lords of Crusinallo, and excellent teacher of the sciences of the Sacred Scriptures, as demonstrate the books that he wrote on the topic, Bishop of Novara and Archbishop of Ligure, member of the descendants of Candia, and happy pope, honest in life as a virgin and pure now too, with his body in Bologna where the ailed bodies heal. Epitaph of brother Pietro Bishop of Novara named at the end Alexander V

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During the last two months of his life, Pope Alexander traveled across the Apennines, the mountain range that separates the regions of Tuscany and Emilia, the cities of Pistoia and Bologna. This is the story of Pope Alexander's last travel through those hills in the Spring of 1410.

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1

Leaving Pistoia

The Pope's Court leaves Pistoia. The flower of Florence. A few words of introduction about the Gueplps and the Ghibellines. Mary Magdalene's burial site. Dominicans and Franciscans. The Cathar heresy. The Filioque question.

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On the seventh day of our mystical journey, we commenced our earthly travel. With these words began the dusty manuscript I had just uncovered in the National Archives. It was a thick book, composed of delicate pages tightly written by hand in a mix of old Italian, 'latinized' Italian and Latin. I transcribe it here for the interest of the reader, with liberal additions and omissions to make the reading more flowing, coherent and understandable.

The text is entitled Papa Pontifex Alexander Quintus OFM (PPAV) in Bononiam Iter - 1410, the travel of the pope, pontiff Alexander V to Bologna, 1410. It details the trip across the mountains he and his Court took from Pistoia to the capital city of Emilia, Bologna, which was, back then, in papal territories, whereas Pistoia and the rest of Tuscany were not. Politically, and for his own safety, it was better for the Pope to find himself in papal lands rather than anywhere else in the Italian peninsula in those troubled times of the Middle-Ages. The manuscript is signed by the pontiff's private secretary Friar Masino de' Clapporei, Ordo Fratrum Minorum, friar Masino de' Clapporei of the order of the Brothers Minors.

The Ordo Fratrum Minorum is the Catholic religious Order of the Franciscan Minors (OFM) originally established by St. Francis in 1209, and later confirmed by Pope Honorius III, in his encyclical Solet Annuere, dated 29 November 1223, in the seventh year of his papacy.

In those remote times, people mainly described themselves by the profession that their forefathers held, such as the family de' Medici, of the doctors. Alternatively, people's surnames could refer to their place of origin, such as in this case de' Clapporei, of the people coming from Clappore. Clappore was an old settlement on the ascending slope of the Apennines, just west of Pistoia and east of Prato, which back then laid as a big village or a small town at the outskirts of Florence. Prato's fame in the textile industry and commerce, and its value to Florence in that regard, would come several generations later, as the Medici acquired their political and financial power in the Città del Fiore, the City of the Flower, as Florence was nicknamed for the bright red lilly on an immaculate white background it branded on its city flag.

Legend has it that the flower of Florence, the Iris germanica var. florentina, the Florentine variety of the Germanic iris, had been its original and official symbol since the Romans established the village of Florentia in the year 59 before Christ. Back then, the more important castrum, or fortified city, was Fiesole, which sits on the hill just north of Florence. But, the Romans established a small harbor for Fiesole, as it were, on the banks of the Arno river. The Arno was quite navigable there by the larger commercial ships with direct access to Pisa and the sea. It was a strategically important connection for the Romans, between Fiesole and the innermost parts of the Tuscan hills and the commerce on the Mediterranean Sea. The village was called Florentia, again according to legend, because it laid on the fertile banks of the river, which would be covered with vibrant flowers from early Spring to late Fall. Indeed, the Romans celebrated at that bucolic site and on a yearly basis the honors and lauds to the goddess Flora, the ludi florales, the games of the flowers, which they also called the floralia. It is no surprise then that the most vibrantly magnificent flower of all that grew along the Arno, the white iris, became the symbol of the village and of these yearly celebrations.

As the village grew into a town, and Christianity became the established religion of the people, the white iris of Florentia became the very symbol of its dedication to the Holy Virgin, to her purity and sanctity. When the main church in its center was built, it was dedicated to Saint Mary of the Flower, Santa Maria del Fiore, which remains today Florence's cathedral. The white iris on a red background was the flag the Florentines fought for. In the Middle Ages, about the year 1250, it was the flag the exiled Florentine Ghibellines displayed. The Guelphs, who had then taken control of Florence, reversed the colors: the red iris over the white background, and beautified it - or so they said - from an iris to the lily of Florence; and such has remained the flag of Florence to this day.

In the power struggle of continental Europe during almost three centuries in the high Middle Ages, the Ghibellines sided with the secular power of the emperor, symbolized by the sword, against the spiritual power of the Church, defended by the pope and the Guelphs. Then, of course, you had the White Guelphs, the most Ghibellines among the Guelphs because they recognized the imperial power but, in contrast to the Ghibellines proper, favored a peaceful collaborative engagement between the pope and the emperor. They represented the people and sought political autonomy and financial independence from the traditional noble families; they worked toward the establishment of a city government by the people and for the people. The Black Guelphs, the most Guelph of the Guelphs, by contrast, were the spokespersons of the established class. They catered to the interests of the nobility, which most of the time were intimately allied to the pope in Rome. Thus, the Black Guelphs fostered and encouraged papal authority in Florence, in Tuscany, and sooner than later across the Italian peninsula.

It was a complex, intricate and dysfunctional political situation that tore the Italian peninsula into factions, groups and armies that killed and maimed acquaintances, friends and family members for decades. Dino Compagni, a historian from Pistoia of the times, documents in ‘chronicles of the things of his times’ (Cronica delle cose occorrenti ne' tempi suoi, Book I, 25) that the contrast between the White and the Black Guelphs originated in Pistoia. This position is confirmed by another historian of the time, Villani, as well as by an anonymous chronicler from Pistoia known only as Anonimo Pistoiese, who authored the Istorie Pistolesi, ‘Pistoiese Histories.’ Compagni writes: "... queste due parti, Neri e Bianchi, nacquono d'una famiglia che si chiamava Cancellieri, che si divise: per che alcuni congiunti si chiamarono Bianchi, gli altri Neri; e così fu divisa tutta la città...", ‘these two factions, the Blacks and the Whites, arose from a family that called itself Cancellieri, which divided itself: for which some among them called themselves Whites and the others the Blacks; and in this manner the entire city was divided.’

A more detailed description of the story indicates that the Whites (Bianchi) called themselves so, because they pledged allegiance to one lady Cancellieri whose first name was Bianca. To contrast themselves directly, those who opposed Bianca and her followers called themselves the Blacks (Neri). The ferocious antagonism between these two factions fast spread to Florence and across Tuscany, and throughout Italy within a few years. One prime example is the great Italian poet, Dante Alleghieri, a Florentine White Guelph exiled together with his entire family from all Tuscan territories for life when the Black Guelphs came into power in Florence in 1302. Dante wrote the Divine Comedy during the last two decades of his life, in exile. In his Inferno (Hell, Canticle VI, verse 64-66), Dante has a fellow Tuscan called Ciacco say "...dopo lunga tencione/verrano al sangue, e la parte selvaggia caccerà l'altra con molta offensione...., ‘after a long period of tension, they will get into bloody battles against each other, and the savage side will exile the other with great offense.’ Ciacco, a nickname for Dante's friend and ally, Francesco (Ciacco) de l'Anguillara, was jokingly known to be a glutton (...voi cittadini mi chiamaste Ciacco/per la dannosa colpa della gola...", ‘you, citizens [of Florence], called me Ciacco for the harmful sin of gluttony;’ Hell, Canticle VI, verses 19 & 20)

Masino's records begin with the date of Thursday of the Octave of Easter, March 27, 1410 Anno Domini with a laconic statement in his latinized Italian vulgate: "et nevicava ancor, et frigidus flavit ventus," ‘and it was still snowing, and the wind blew cold.’

Masino's chronicle describes the long train that accompanied the Pope on his journey to Bologna: bishops and prelates, priests and friars, guides and some armed men, because, as Masino notes, you never know whom you might encounter in the mountains. Most walked, some rode mules - the friars and the one priest in the group. A few bishops rode horses, most sat in groups of three or four in carriages. The simplest and the smallest of the carriages had room for only two people, and in tight quarters at that: Pope Alexander and his secretary Masino. All but a handful of the religious in the train were, as Pope Alexander and Masino, Franciscan Minors friars. Masino tells us of only a few Dominican bishops, and one Dominican priest.

The events we relate here occurred in the first decade of the 15th century, well before the emergence of the Franciscan Conventuals, the Fratres Minores Conventuales, the ‘Friars Minor Conventual,’ about one century later. To state it simply, certain Franciscan friars, the conventual followers of St. Francis, chose to minister in the heart of the cities rather than in more remote hermitages. They organized and lived together in large houses, the convents, from the Latin conventus, which can be translated as an assembly of people convened for a given purpose. Convents became 'fortresses of faith,' and - friars often said - places in which conventual friars converged to live together a life steeped in prayer, study and work, in a model very much like the monks of the Benedictine order, whose motto has been for centuries since their founding: ora et labora – ‘pray and work.’

The Friars Minor chose, by contrast, to continue to observe Francis's rule unbent. They remained Observantes, - the observers of the Rule of Francis as he had outlined it. They elected, and continue to this day to live where God calls them, in obedience to His will, in humble acceptance of whatever circumstances His Rule required them back then, as it still does today, to live in charity of thoughts, words and deeds: to show their Franciscan spirituality rather than to talk about it. As Francis himself had taught them: preach always, but use words only when you must.

This is the Franciscan spirituality, and the Observantes chose to live in the world, but not to be of the world, following this Rule. They are like hermits in the turmoil of every day life, always centered in Christ through self-imposed and self-monitored spiritual isolation from the tumultuous surroundings of daily secular life. These principles may seem less strict than those that bind the Conventuals - in so far as they are not bound by protocols mandated by life in a convent – and permit them the moderate use (usus moderatus) of basic possessions, real estate, fixed revenues and other tangibles to enable them to sustain their immersion in the world outside the convents.

To some - those who comprehend not the arduous difficulty, the gargantuan requirement of force of will and self-monitoring, the constant inner battle between spirituality and secular temptations - it may appear that the day to day life of Observantes might be more tolerable: they live after all among all of us, and are not bound by the strict set of rules that run a convent. To others - those who understand Franciscan poverty of spirit - it is clear that the Observantes must hold themselves strictly to their own rigidly stringent use of commodities, the usus arctus, of self-inflicted physical or spiritual poverty. They are the paupers among the Franciscans.

In 1410, the date of Masino's writing, all religious Franciscans were of one group: some were friars and others were friars and ordained priests, but all were recognized as Observantes. Pope Alexander and Masino were both friars Observantes, and they traveled in the smallest and the simplest of the carriages.

Their confessor and he who celebrated Holy Mass for them during the journey, we learn from Masino's account, was father Teodoro, a friar and ordained priest of the Order of St. Dominic. He proudly, as Masino sarcastically notes, rode his own horse alongside the papal carriage.

Structurally, the text is generally composed of short passages. Masino observes and diligently, though rather laconically, records where they are and whom they meet. Largely, he reports rather detailed transcriptions of their conversations in the carriage as they go. At times, it appears that his notes are rather dictations, most often they seem to be transliterations of the pontiff's thought and teaching. Taken together, they are clearly notes that the good friar jots down as the elderly pontiff reminisces about certain events, or explains to his companion this or that matter.

It is clear from the reading that Masino was four or five decades younger than the pope - since recorded history indicates that Pope Alexander may have been in his early to mid-seventies in 1410, it follows that Masino must have been a young man barely in his twenties and relatively recently professed in the Order of Francis. Pope Alexander, who had been educated at the universities of Paris and Oxford, and who had served as the mentor to the children of high ranking Italian nobility, took on very seriously his role and duty of teacher and mentor, and sought to educate the young friar to the best of his ability. Masino in turn, it is also clear, was thirsty of gaining knowledge and understanding of the things of the world and of the Church, and assiduously learned from every word, story, comment and thought expressed by his mentor, Pope Alexander.

What had begun as a working associateship between a recently elected pope and a much younger secretary, had evolved quite evidently by the time of Easter of the year 1410, when this journey took place, as a more intimate relationship between a dedicated teacher and his beloved pupil. During their travel, as we see from the tone of the manuscript, the two grew even closer, as the elder found in the younger a confidant, and the younger a father figure in the elder.

Masino describes in detail how the papal Court got assembled in the square of the church dedicated to St. Zennon of Verona, at the center of the little city of Pistoia. The church, the cathedral and seat of the Bishop of Pistoia, was just a bit off center relative to the baptistery, known since the early 1100's as the baptistery of St. John the Baptist in the City of Pistoia - Sancti Iohannis Batiste in civitate Pistoria. Until about one hundred years before the day the good friar begins his narration, the site was principally occupied by a church dedicated to St. Mary of the Court with its own small baptistery dedicated to St. John, which had been originally designed by architect Lanfranco da Como in 1226. By 1361, the little church had been torn down and a magnificent new octagonal baptistery erected, built on an original design, some said, by the noted architect, Nicolò Pisano. Pisano was not from Pisa - he may have had his origins in the southeastern region of the peninsula, Apuglia - but had done a masterful work to the baptistery of Pisa and other churches there just a century before. Among its many treasures, the Pistoia baptistery housed at the time – as related by Masino -, and still today, the monument in memory of bishop Atto, most revered among the Pistoiese for bringing a relic of St. James to town.

The relic was, and still is, housed in a dedicated chapel in Pistoia's cathedral, which originally was dedicated to St Martin. But, as Masino reports rather enigmatically, suggesting that perhaps he was not clear about all the fragments of the story, that per miracolo avvenuto alla città per intercessione di San Zenone da Verona, ‘for a miracle that occurred in the city through the intercession of Saint Zennon of Verona, the cathedral was dedicated anew to Saint Zennon.’ There are no more details in the friar's writing about what the miracle entailed, but what is clear is that the original church was erected late in the first millennium, and much later dedicated to Saint Zennon. Historical records suggest that Masino's version of these events might have been, in fact, a bit romanticized, since archival documents indicate that already in the year 923, the church is referred to by the Count of Tuscia, Cunerad of Teudicio, as Ecclesia SS. Zenonis, Rufinis et Felicis, the church of the Saints Zennon, Rufin and Felix. Be that as it may, the friar tells us that the pontiff kneeled in prayer at the altar dedicated to St James, consecrated by bishop Atto close three hundred years prior, in 1145.

On that Thursday morning of the week of Easter, 1410, Pope Alexander gave his magnanimous blessing urbi et orbi, to the city and the world, from the main altar of St. Zennon cathedral. He prayed over the remains of St. James, the patron saint of pilgrims, blessed the city, and thanked all the noble families of the city for having opened their dwellings to him and to his Court for the last several months. By mid-afternoon, Masino reports, the pontiff and the papal Court exited the northeastern city gate of Porta San Marco, on the road leading to Florence, via Montale and Prato.

That gate was one of the four ports of entry to the fortified little city of Pistoia, the others being Porta Carratica to the east for the travelers going to Florence, Porta Lucchese to the west for those traveling toward Lucca, and Porta al Borgo to the north for the pilgrims bound across the mountain via the pass of Porretta to Modena. These were the only patent gates across the second set of walls. The early fortifications had been destroyed by the Florentines and Robert of Anjou, King of Naples, King of Jerusalem and Count of Provence, in the massacre of 1305.

As papal vicar in Tuscany and Romagna for Pope Clement V, Robert had intervened in the war between the Guelph and Ghibelline factions in Florence, and on behalf of Florence throughout Tuscany. He had become the leader of the Guelph party in Italy, and violently opposed any and all Ghibelline strongholds. He had led the Florentine annihilation of Pistoia and its surroundings late that year. The Florentines then had re-built the walls of Pistoia, with powerful towers and bastions, the most imposing of which was that of Santa Barbara, still open today to the interested tourist, between Porta Carratica and Porta San Marco. The walls were surrounded by trenches fed by the Ombrone and the Brana rivers, the two confluent rivers of Pistoia. The Florentines thus ensured that no one, Guelph or Ghibelline, would ever take the city away from them. Pistoia henceforth was subjugated to the Medici family, who diligently placed their five balls family coat of arms on all the most important building and palaces of the city - as a reminder to the proud Pistoiese throughout the ages that they, the Florentines, were now and forever in control.

The four gates carried the names of the four neighborhoods, or rioni, of Pistoia. These four neighborhoods were, and still are today, contenders for the yearly joust of the bear - giostra dell'orso - held in the square of the cathedral every July 25, the feast day for the patron saint of the city, St. James. The rione of the White Deer (cervo bianco) with its white and green colors defends Porta Lucchese, the rione of the Dragon (dragone rosso) in red and green colors fights for Porta Carratica, the rione of the Golden Lion (leone d'oro) bearing yellow and red defends Porta San Marco, and the rione of the Griffon (grifone) in red and white fights for Porta al Borgo.

Pope Alexander would have had enjoyed watching those city games very shortly after his arrival from Pisa in late July 1409, but as it turned out, he was blocked in Pisa, where he had been unanimously elected pope - the third pope that reigned contemporaneously over the Western Roman Christian church in 1409 - the third pope of the great Western Schism, but the only pope now widely recognized by most cardinals, archbishops, bishops, princes and kings across the European continent. Alexander was the pope, the other two were anti-popes. Both had been popes, and had excommunicated each other, and both had been discredited at the Council of Pisa. Alexander was the pope, and his most urgent task was to go to Rome and take full power and control of the papacy and the administration of the papal States. Another important contributing factor for Pope Alexander wanting to leave Pisa relatively soon after the closure of the Council in the Summer months of 1409 was the spread of the plague.

But, Florence was slighted in large part because, decades earlier, her own archbishop had not been considered for the Chair of St Peter. And Florence being Florence, it wished to display its control over the situation: since the region immediately south of Pisa on the way to Rome - that is toward Livorno and the Maremma - was under Florentine control, Florence blocked the way. Going north toward Genoa was out of the question. West was the sea. The only way remaining was east, toward Lucca, Pistoia, Prato and eventually Florence; and then from there, south toward Siena and Arezzo, and eventually the Papal States and Rome.

Alexander meant to leave Pisa, therefore, as soon as possible, and to reach Pistoia in time for the joust, and to continue toward Roma as soon as possible to reach Rome by Fall. But, as we will see, events barred him from doing that.

Lucca was too close to Pisa and too far from Florence. Prato was too small of a town to accommodate him and his papal Court. And Florence - ah Florence! - Florence, out of spite for deeds of decades past, would not even let him enter the city. Pistoia had to be it.

Pope Alexander thought that the lay-over in Pistoia was going to be of a few days, a few weeks at most: his intent was to be in Rome sooner than later. Little did he know that his stay in Pistoia would extend month after month after month.

Even the highest-ranking officials of Pistoia did not expect such prolonged permanence: in early Summer 1409, the Secretary of the city made an entry in the archives of Pistoia: Papa Alessandro venne a Pistoia, e costò la città 400 fiorini - Pope Alexander came to Pistoia, and it cost the city 400 florins. In truth, he was welcomed by a city-wide party in which over 1000 Lire - an extravagant sum of money for the times - was spent on wine alone. The Pope and his entourage ended up spending most of the Fall and Winter months in Pistoia - most, not all though.

There is another entry in the city registry, dated at the end of October of the same year, to the effect that Alexander left for Prato: evidently, he was in the hope of preparing his crossing of the Florentine territory across the Chianti region, Siena, and then onward toward the papal lands, eventually reaching Rome before the harsh weather of Winter.

He stayed in Prato days and long weeks discussing with the Florentine Signoria if, when and how he and his train would be allowed to cross the city and its region on their way south. Florence the obstructionist - that could have been the new nickname for the city of the flowers!

During that time, Alexander enjoyed the hospitality of the people of Prato, who were happy to do their little bit, not so much to help the pontiff as to annoy Florence. In Prato, archival documents note, Pope Alexander resided in the palace of the Propositura, today's bishopric residence, for the first few weeks, and subsequently as guest of Francesco, son of the noble Marco Datini of Prato. He resided there from October 30, 1409 until just before the celebration of Christmas 1409.

On the 21st of December 1409, Alexander was back in Pistoia to sign a document granting the specific privilege of celebrating Mass at 11:00 PM on Holy Saturday to the monastery of St. Michele in Forcole. This document is kept in the Regesta chartarum Pistoriensium, the medieval registry of the city of Pistoia, located at the National Archives of Pistoia to this day, adjacent to the manuscript I have found and transcribe here.

By January 1410, it was clear, and the pontiff had to come to his senses: Florence was not ever going to let him through. Plan B, he had to go with plan B; but what was plan B? Certainly Pistoia, being slightly larger than Prato, would offer him a greater choice to develop a plan B. He and his Court had returned to the warm hospitality of Matteo Diamanti, Bishop of Pistoia. An emissary of Cardinal Cossa of Bologna was there as well, and as they jointly noted, Florence was stubbornly still not allowing him passage. The only way left for him was north up the mountains of Pistoia, across the Apennines passes, either of Porretta or of the castle of Casio, and down toward Bologna: Bologna and its region were in the Papal States, and his friend and ally would be awaiting him there. So, the stretch of land along the Adriatic Sea from Bologna southward just east of Tuscany was the only passage to Rome left for Pope Alexander.

Hence the pontiff, back in Pistoia, hurriedly prepared for the perilous voyage across the Tosco-Emilian Apennine mountains, the very mountains where villagers would collect and compact the snow during the winter months to obtain the ice that the Medici family in Florence desired for their afternoon sweets during the hot Summer months in the Florentine palaces.

It was clear that he would have to wait several weeks still, until the snow melted. He used that time wisely, carefully planning the crossing by interviewing several guides who knew the mountain well. He carefully and personally perused the several tracings of the Francigena that traversed the mountain, as well as the weather and its micro-climate. Archival notes show that Alexander was hosted by the ancient noble family of Pistoia of the Vinciguerra Panciatichi until his departure to Bologna in early Spring 1410. The pondered process by which the pontiff prepared for this travel is well detailed by our good friar, Masino.

Early that Spring 1410, Pope Alexander filed another request to Florence. To his chagrin, Masino underscores, the arrogant answer confirmed once more that Florence denied his plea, and would not allow him passage.

All was then finalized and ready for the trek up the hills, through the passes and down the