Art, Despair and Prosperity

(The Novel’s Opening Chapters)

Art, Despair and Prosperity is a historical and fictional novel about the lives and interactions of several artists, creators, explorers, politicians, rulers and financiers during the Italian Renaissance and the Age of Discovery.

The main characters include: Leonardo Da Vinci, Sandro Botticelli, Michelangelo, Raphael, Isabella D’Este, Lucrezia Borgia, Niccolo Machiavelli, Amerigo Vespucci, Christopher Columbus, Piero Soderini, Cesare Borgia, …

Other characters include: Isabella of Castile, Vasco Da Gama, Lorenzo De Medici, Pope Leo X, Pope Alexander VI, Giorgione, Girolamo Savonarola, Pico Della Mirandola, Pietro Bembo, …

The novel covers the time period between 1492 and 1527, while maintaining historical consistency paramount. It covers a time period that ushered the transformation of the western world.

Art, Despair and Prosperity uses some satirical elements but alludes to philosophical and sociological questions about art, power, wealth, truth, beauty and several other value judgment related questions, while conveying some life stories and some love stories.

Below are the first 100 pages of the novel (still unpolished).

Art, Despair and Prosperity

Chapter 0. The Riddle

“Master Botticelli, uncle told me that you are contemplating giving up painting. I am perplexed! How could you stop painting? That’s almost unbelievable.

It is well known that the sublime stroke of your brush is only surpassed by your endless wisdom. Are uncle’s words true?”

Botticelli’s green eyes, which were an interesting contrast to his long, dark brown hair and gray-sprinkled beard, for a moment became dreamy. His face depicted a solemnity beyond his forty-six years. And his green eyes spoke of many untold stories. He had been gazing towards the paintings hanging on the wall to his left. Hearing Amerigo’s question his face expression became tense. Botticelli did not want to discuss that question again.

As his eyes returned towards Amerigo he calmly replied:

Botticelli: “My dear Amerigo, praise is a dangerous guide. Once it gets to you, it guides you along its path.”

Sandro Botticelli was for ten years already the lead artist at the Medici Court. It was a position he had striven for with rigor and passion for most of his life.

For many years he had to contest with Master Domenico Ghirlandaio, Master Pietro Perugino and Master Leonardo Da Vinci. It was a prolonged, challenging and draining contest.

But since his return from Rome ten years ago in 1482, Botticelli had become the most venerable and highly regarded painter in Florence.

He saw himself without any equals. He saw himself as the artistic torchbearer of Florence.

Since his return from Rome, Botticelli had become an icon for many artists at the Medici Academy in Florence. As Il Magnifico’s lead artist he had painted many paintings, frescos and portraits for the greatest Florentine families, including the Soderini, the Vespucci, the Strozzi and of course the Medici.

Botticelli’s paintings and frescos decorated many of the Florentine cathedrals, basilicas, villas and palazzos. Many Florentine aristocrats had to queue for years just to have their portraits painted by Botticelli. And many he refused to paint.

Yet Il Magnifico was the one patron whom Botticelli could never ever refuse!

With each year, Il Magnifico’s patronage and special relationship to Botticelli had grown ever stronger. Over the years Botticelli had painted countless paintings, including many individual and family portraits, and many frescos for Il Magnifico.

People in Florence claimed that with Il Magnifico’s generosity, Botticelli had transformed the art of fresco paining, starting with his early works at the Basilica of Santa Maria Novella to his masterpieces decorating the walls of the Sistine Chapel in Rome.

Oftentimes when passing by, Il Magnifico was still deeply moved by that very first fresco that he had commissioned Botticelli to paint almost fifteen years ago.

Botticelli’s first fresco for Il Magnifico decorated a wall at Palazzo del Bargello, the Florentine Republic’s police headquarters.

The fresco depicted the hanging execution of the Pazzi conspirators, who had been captured after the 1478 assassination attempt on Il Magnifico and his brother Giuliano de Medici.

Il Magnifico, after having barely survived that treacherous assassination attempt, had been inconsolably devastated by his brother Giuliano’s death.

In an emotional mix of grief and redemption, Il Magnifico had commissioned Botticelli to paint a large fresco depicting the public execution of the captured conspiracy leaders.

With the fresco Il Magnifico had vowed never to forget what the Kuehne family had done to his brother.

Although just eight people were depicted on the fresco, over the following years Il Magnifico had financed an extensive operation to hunt down many conspirators all around Europe. The total number of conspirators executed was closer to eighty.

But only eight had made it onto that infamous fresco that Botticelli had painted so meticulously on the wall of the Florentine police headquarters.

It all seemed so long ago.

Botticelli had been ruminating.

It was just few months after completing that execution fresco that Botticelli had been summoned to Rome by Pope Sixtus. Botticelli had arrived in Rome shortly after he had turned thirty-four. Twelve years had passed since then, yet he still vividly remembered his first few days in Rome.

Botticelli, along with Master Ghirlandaio and Master Perugino, had been asked by the Pope to paint several biblical frescos for the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Il Magnifico had recommended Botticelli as one of the top three fresco painters in Florence.

After Botticelli had completed these biblical frescos at the Sistine Chapel, Pope Sixtus had ardently praised Botticelli for his graceful works, which had enlivened the chapel. This praise had catapulted Botticelli towards instant fame all around Europe.

He had returned to Florence as a man of the world.

Since his return ten years ago, Botticelli had rarely spoken of his time in Rome. His years in Rome had changed Botticelli.

Some said it was his love for wine that had fueled his passion for women.

Some said it was his love for women that had fueled his passion for wine.

Since his return from Rome, Botticelli had embarked on one of the most creative time periods of his life by completing many exceptional paintings, among them the Primavera and the beautiful Venus.

The unsurpassed beauty of Venus still turned the faces of those, who passed by the painting at Villa di Castello, one of the many country residencies owned by members of the Medici family.

They said Botticelli was in a flow.

Yet some in Florence had recently noticed a deeply contemplative mood in Botticelli. He often visited the Monastery of San Marco to converse with Father Gerolamo Savanarolla. Lately, he had been painting only sparsely.

Amerigo Vespucci had stopped by Botticelli’s studio at Palazzo Medici to pick up a portrait commissioned eight months ago by Amerigo’s uncle, Giorgio Vespucci, who was a canon at the Florentine Cathedral Santa Maria Del Fiore.

Amerigo’s youthful face was still full of vigor for his thirty seven years and showed an air of confidence often carried by those, who have not been tried by life. As Amerigo heard Botticelli’s words, his face expressed wonder.

He paused for a moment and pondered about Botticelli’s line:

“Praise is a dangerous guide. Once it gets to you it guides you along its path.”

It sounded interesting, but odd.

Amerigo had asked his question out of politeness and to show interest. Yet now Amerigo could not grasp the meaning of Botticelli’s words. He began wondering what Botticelli was talking about. What path, whose praise? Was Botticelli presenting a riddle?

Amerigo knew little about a painter’s life, yet attempting to show empathy he continued:

Amerigo: “Master Botticelli, but why shouldn’t the painter follow the path of praise?”

Amerigo Vespucci belonged to one of the oldest and most respected families of Florence. He had grown up in close proximity to the Medici Court and had been employed for many years, under various positions, at the Medici Bank, one of Europe’s largest banks.

While working up the organizational ranks, he had closely witnessed the Medici Bank’s rise to become one of the largest banks in Europe.

Although four years ago he had a slight falling out with Il Magnifico, Amerigo was a close confidant of Il Magnifico’s cousin, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de Medici.

Since Il Mangnifico was often busy with Florentine and Italian politics, his cousin Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco had taken over most of the daily operations of the Medici Bank. Pierfrancesco, as many called him by his family-branch name, considered Amerigo one of his important helpers.

In this role Amerigo had conducted almost every imaginable task for Pierfrancesco. Some people in Florence said that it was Pierfrancesco’s youthful vision that had guided the Medici Bank to where it was.

Amerigo proudly claimed, that without his support of Pierfrancesco, the Medici Bank wouldn’t be where it is now, since in the early days someone had to do all the dirty work.

Amerigo was a vigorous man with dark hair and a slender body. He often claimed to easily handle any situation thrown at him. As he stood in the corner of Botticelli’s chamber, with an air of reverence in his posture, he keenly awaited Botticelli’s answer.

Botticelli took some time to gather his thoughts, as it is often the case when one is contemplating either to say too much or too little. And he eventually replied:

Botticelli: “At times one should ponder if those who shower the praise understand what they are praising. What if the works are not praiseworthy or are praiseworthy but the community does not understand it? Will it not misguide one to follow the praise?”

Botticelli’s face became more tense as he said this and the two wrinkles on his forehead became more pronounced.

Amerigo momentarily looked up. He was contemplating. He recalled his uncle Giorgio telling the story of Donatello casting David, but he did not remember the details of the story. Yet wanting to showcase his artistic knowledge and his love for Florence, he continued:

Amerigo: “Master Botticelli, but isn’t what the community wants the highest path of the artist? How can the community be misguided? What about Donatello’s David? Is it not a symbol of our community, of our beloved Florence? Is that not the source of the statue's true beauty?”

Botticelli had been feeling tired throughout the day although he hadn’t painted much. He was feeling somewhat hungry and was craving marzipan. He could tell that Amerigo was not understanding him. With a gracious voice, a slight smile, yet with an intention to wrap up the conversation he replied:

Botticelli: “My dear Amerigo, that is an intricate question. As you continue your life’s journey you will find the answers yourself.”

Botticelli’s servant had brought a canvas wrapped in gray cloth with a purple ribbon on it. He handed the canvas to Amerigo. Amerigo was surprised by its weight. He carefully held it in both of his hands and looked at it while wondering what his uncle’s portrait looked like under the wrap.

He then gazed up to Botticelli and said:

Amerigo: “But Master Botticelli, if you stopped painting, won’t those undeserving of fame take up your glory and rob you of your achievements? I cannot bare that thought. I will not let that happen.”

Botticelli’s eyes had wandered towards a painting hanging between the two small windows on his left. The painting depicted a young man holding a medallion.

Botticelli looked back at Amerigo and replied:

Botticelli: “Sometimes one may prefer obscurity to fame not to become the follower of one’s followers.”

Amerigo’s face expression showed confusion. He did not know what to make of these words, but he politely replied:

Amerigo: “These aught to be wise words Master Botticelli.

He paused for a moment and then continued:

Amerigo: “Master Botticelli, you won’t believe it, but I have been invited to La Grande Festa this year.

It has always been a dream of mine to witness your decorative creations at La Grande Festa. Everyone in Florence always raves about them.

Last year, it was said that you had created a red-glowing fountain, shaped like a giant wine glass, held by the nine maidens of Avalon.

I can’t wait to see your creations at this year’s La Grande Festa.”

Botticelli briefly nodded with his head but showed little reaction to Amerigo’s words.

Amerigo was somewhat surprised by it but then continued:

Amerigo: “Well, I shall return to the office. I will convey your greetings to uncle Giorgio.

Hopefully we can continue our conversation at La Grande Festa.”

Introduction

In January 1492, the city of Florence was the epicenter of a movement dubbed by some locals “Rinascimento”. Some also called it the rebirth of the human spirit.

Florence was a melting pot. Aspiring artists and scholars from all over Europe were flocking to Florence to learn from the great masters of the time. The city’s streets were buzzing with visitors and merchants from all corners of the Mediterranean.

Around the majestic Cathedral of Santa Maria Del Fiore crowds would gather and delight at the scenery set by one of the largest churches in the world. Looking up at the cathedral’s marvelous dome, many could feel the awe one often feels at special moments. At the Cathedral’s northern gate, curious groups would gather and witness the moment being captured by many street artists working late into sunset.

Traveling artists came to Florence to roam around the city and get inspired by the public treasures left behind by the late masters Giotto, Brunelleschi, Ghiberti and Donatello.

Striving to create the next masterpiece that would capture the imagination of the times, inspired artist worked tirelessly by day and celebrated passionately into the night.

It was said that the world had never seen so much beauty before.

Several of Italy’s best artists, scholars and builders were living in the grand and marvelous Palazzo of the arts patron and Medici banking family head, Lorenzo the Magnificent.

To the citizens of Florence he was simply known as “Il Magnifico”.

Chapter 1. Amerigo at the Inn

Amerigo walked out of Palazzo Medici taking the garden gate towards Via de Ginori. He walked towards the Basilica San Lorenzo. The Basilica San Lorenzo was the Medici family’s chapel and housed the tombs of many late Medici figures and also of some exceptional artists.

On Thursday afternoons, outside of the Basilica San Lorenzo, a crowd usually gathered awaiting the offering by Father Del Arrio. Amerigo walked through the crowd avoiding the looks. When he had passed the Basilica he noticed Father Barecci stepping out of the Basilica’s aft gate.

Shortly after noticing Father Barecci, Amerigo turned towards the Basilica and crossed himself three times. He then continued walking.

While continuing his path south, he saw a middle-aged lady scolding a young boy, whose hands had an odd, yellow tint to them. He walked pass without paying much attention.

Shortly after passing Piazza di San Giovanni, he overheard a conversation between three youths saying:

“Yes, they just got a major commission from France and Master Ghirlandaio is planning to significantly expand his workshop”.

He continued walking.

Amerigo walked pass the baptistery of San Giovanni, where he had been baptized as a child.

Shortly after, he overheard a conversation from a small group to his right.

“Yeah, all these sketches are great and all, but I am telling you man, if you want to have a real shot at making it big, like Master Brunelleschi big, you have to get into the Medici Academy.”

Walking south along Via Roma Amerigo noticed an older man with long, gray hair walking and yelling:

“Great democracy we have here. They have money for all these statues and villas, but no money to feed the orphans from the last plague”.

He started thinking, another one of these deranged idealists, they are almost as bad as the Artsters.

Lately, Amerigo had been feeling barely any enthusiasm for his surroundings in Florence. He had grown bored of Florence. He had lived in Florence most of his life and knew the city too well.

In the last ten years, he had spent just a single year away, on a diplomatic mission to Paris with his other uncle, Guido Antonio Vespucci, who later became the Florentine ambassador to the French Court.

Then about four yeas ago, Pierfrancesco had dispatched Amerigo on a month-long assignment to Seville, to investigate and assess the Medici Bank’s main representative there.

After the Medici Bank had expanded all across Europe, Amerigo wanted to explore other European mega-cities.

For Amerigo, Florence had become almost suffocating with its sculpture-packed facades, frescos and the scores of “Artsters” roaming the streets.

Amerigo called them Artsters, all those, whose outward appearance was their only real association with art. They all wore large-brimmed, red hats, which were lately so fashionable in the arts community. They all wore blue tunics and walked around the city’s streets prominently carrying brushes in their hands or musical instruments around their shoulders.

Amerigo often said that everyone in Florence claimed to be a painter, even those who have never completed a single painting in their lives. He thought that there were many great artists in Florence but also many Artsters.

While walking along Via Roma, he passed the inn run by his old-time acquaintance Massimilliano. Amerigo slowed down and gazed at the door, which had a newly painted red sign. He did not want to go to the office yet, so he decided to enter the inn to have a glass of wine.

The inn was dank and poorly lit. The front portion of the inn had a horseshoe-shaped counter behind which stood Massimilliano. Towards the right was a large, open area where tables and benches were arranged.

Amerigo could make out some silhouettes in the back of the open area. He quickly scanned the open area.

At one table in the far left sat three men all of whom wore large-brimmed, red hats and blue tunics with different patterns. They were engulfed in a lively conversation. One of the men had a red cloth wrapped around his arm.

Nearer to the door sat a man with his head on the table. The man seemed to be passed out. He was wearing a shabby brown cloak.

In the far right sat a young couple frolicking around and occasionally giving out some giggles.

Towards the back sat two middle-aged ladies, dressed in scandalous, bright dresses with sleeves so short that one could see their bare arms.

One of the ladies looked familiar to Amerigo, but he could not fully recall her. He assumed that they were aspiring art models.

The counter was empty with the exception of a stout man sitting at the left corner. The man was gazing at a half-full glass in front of him and was apparently engulfed in deep thoughts.

Massimilliano was wiping the left side of the counter when Amerigo walked in. As Amerigo walked up towards the counter, he exclaimed with a laughter:

Amerigo: “Massimilliano you dirty dog, how is life treating you?”

Massimilliano looked up in surprise. His face became animated as he saw Amerigo. He had not seen Amerigo for some time. He quickly exclaimed:

Massimilliano: “Great to see you Migo. I hear you are a big fish at the Medici Bank now.”

Amerigo approached the counter, sat down and replied:

Amerigo: “Yes, times have changed. Things are finally going my way.”

Massimilliano nodded and said:

Massimilliano: “I have heard that you are even invited to La Grande Festa.”

Amerigo proudly replied: “Yes, I will be at La Grande Festa! Who would have thought.”

He chuckled.

Massimilliano’s face lit up slightly and he said:

Massimilliano: “I have always wondered what it is like at La Grande Festa. I have heard so much about it. They say it is like being in a magical dream.”

Amerigo replied:

Amerigo: “Yes, I have heard a lot about La Grande Festa as well. I am pretty excited. And soon I shall find out. Imagine, the greatest Italian aristocrats will be there, together with the best artists and the most beautiful art models of Italy.

I can’t wait. It is going to be crazy!”

Amerigo’s face lit up as he pronounced the words “the most beautiful art models”.

Massimilliano poured Amerigo a glass of wine. They started a conversation about the old times, recalling the days when Amerigo and Massimilliano were young and terrorizing the city’s streets.

They talked about Florence and how it had changed. They recalled the story when years ago Pierfrancesco had tasked Amerigo to find twenty courtesans on the day of a Medici festivity, and how Massimilliano had helped him with the ordeal.

Massimilliano had grown up as an orphan. His mother had been a laundress and had died when he was twelve. He had never met his father, of whom some said that he was of noble origin. At a young age he had learned to take care of himself and bounced around from job to job. He scraped by and navigated the rough streets of Callavagio, one of the poorest neighborhoods of Florence. Amerigo had met Massimilliano when he was working as a lackey for the Soderini family.

Massimilliano had black hair, hazel eyes and a large scar on the right side of his face. He was of average height and had broad shoulders. Amerigo had taken a liking in him and over time had asked for Massimilliano’s assistance to complete some of Pierfrancesco’s less noble requests.

As they were discussing the old days, Massimilliano began refilling Amerigo’s glass, since Amerigo had almost emptied it.

Amerigo intervened and said:

Amerigo: “I have to return to the office. I think one glass should be enough at noon.”

Massimilliano laughed and answered:

Massimilliano: “You seem to have grown soft old man. It’s Thursday.”

A sudden feeling of unease gripped Amerigo. Nothing irritated and motivated Amerigo more than a challenge to his vigor or abilities. He grabbed the newly filled glass and promptly drank it. He put it down and exclaimed:

Amerigo: “Go ahead, fill it up again.”

Massimilliano filled up Amerigo’s glass again and replied with a laughter:

Massimilliano: “That is how I remember the real Migo.”

They continued their conversation and Massimilliano started telling a story about some thieves, who had broken into a Dominican Monastery at the city’s northern gate and had stolen some relics.

When he had finished telling the story, he became quite for a moment and then asked:

Massimilliano: “Remember what Master Brunelleschi used to say?

He used to say, to be triumphant in life, a day will come when you need to go “all-in”. And if you time that day correctly you shall climb on Almighty’s chosen path. Yet if you miss it, you shall not get a second attempt. As the Lord grants each and everyone just one attempt!”

He paused for a moment and then continued:

Massimilliano: “Do you think Master Brunelleschi was right?”

Amerigo thought for a moment and then replied:

Amerigo: “Yes, I think he was right. Brunelleschi was a wise man.

But I also like King Phillip’s line, that patience is the strategist’s best friend and those who try to force their luck, will find its back turned quickly.”

Massimilliano nodded and replied:

Massimilliano: “Yes, patience is key. And I am still awaiting my lucky turn.

But once that day arrives, I will go all-in! That is the only path to making it big. Even the Medici followed it.”

Then Massimilliano started reciting another story, which he had overheard few days ago.

Chapter 2. Michelangelo’s Studio

Pietro Bembo had been staying in Florence for the past two months. He was often on the move, spending time in Rome, Ferrara, Urbino and often in Florence. He was from an aristocratic venetian family and was accustomed to traveling from a young age. His father had been a venetian diplomat at many courts. At just twenty one years, Pietro had already visited many of the largest cities in Europe. Even his daily habits had a sense of motion and constant dynamism. As he stood in the middle of Michelangelo’s studio, while shifting his weight from one side to the other, he asked in bewilderment:

Pietro: “What do you mean, you will not attend La Grande Festa tomorrow? Don’t be foolish Michelangelo. You have to come. Il Magnifico expects you to be present at the ceremony.”

Pietro had soft, handsome features, long dark hair and large brown eyes. His eyes showed a certain carelessness that was often mistaken for arrogance. He had known Michelangelo since his first visit to Florence five years ago.

Michelangelo, without taking his attention from the statue, replied:

Michelangelo: “I have work to do. I want to finish this statue. Leave me alone.”

Michelangelo’s small, dark eyes, full of intensity, were focused on the statue. His short, black hair was messy and he was wearing a brown robe.

Michelangelo was only sixteen but his face depicted a seriousness that sometimes moved to melancholy. He had been at the Medici Academy for about a year and Il Magnifico treated him as a son. He was working on a small statue of Apollo and one could see a dissatisfaction on his face. He dreaded the presence of others when he was working.

Pietro’s large, observing eyes looked around the studio and briefly gazed into the corner at a wooden fixture, which resembled a broken cross. Pietro was wearing colorful attire that slightly smelled of wine. He had just returned from the Palazzo Pitti, where he had played the lute while reciting his newest songs. While reaching his right hand towards the pocket of his green blouse, Pietro turned towards Michelangelo’s desk and continued.

Pietro: “You can always finish that statue later. Take a break. I have heard even the beautiful Isabella D’Este is in town from Mantua. She will be at La Grande Festa. I have written a poem for her, its called La Fiamma!”

Pietro took a piece of paper out of his pocket, opened it up and started reciting.

Pietro:

”Hey sister — my little sister,

How should I address you, so you listen to my whisper?

How should I address you to fill your voice with little glister?

How can I convey the feelings of this mister?”

Michelangelo turned his face. While angrily looking directly at Pietro he said:

Michelangelo: “Leave me alone Pietro.”

He paused for a moment and then continued:

“Besides, all these old fools at La Grande Festa. What do they understand?

All they speak of is Master Perugino this, Master Leonardo that. What has Leonardo done recently that is so great? He cannot even finish a simple horse statue in ten years.

I can sculpt that statue in 6 months.”

Pietro’s face showed visible amusement and with a self-satisfied smirk he replied:

Pietro: “In Milan they say he is working on a flying carriage.”

Michelangelo replied:

Michelangelo: “In Milan they say… Nonsense. The old man has gone mad. Let him first learn to sculpt before he starts talking about flying carriages.”

The amusement on Pietro’s face increased as he tried to hide it and he continued:

Pietro: “They say he is dissecting horse cadavers and preparing their hearts as meals, to gain magical powers.”

Michelangelo angrily replied:

Michelangelo: “Nonsense. I am telling you, nonsense. Leonardo does not eat animal flesh. He says animals are like us. He says they are divine creatures with feelings. The old man is mad. But people hold him for this great genius.”

Michelangelo turned away and returned his attention to the statue. He started carefully scraping a layer from the statue’s right eye. Then he exclaimed:

Michelangelo: “And lastly my dear Pietro, I advise you to keep that poem to yourself!

You do know that Isabella D’Este just married Francesco Gonzaga, who happens to be the Captain General of the Venetian Army.

So there is Francesco Gonzaga, who commands one of the largest Armies on the Italian peninsula and then there is his wife Isabella D’Este and then there is you.

What do you think will happen?”

Pietro listened to these words with an air of indifference. He was well acquainted with the dealings at the northern Italian courts. His smile became more mysterious as he replied:

Pietro: “Thanks for the advice little Stone-man! But soon you shall see that the pen is mightier than the sword.”

Pietro’s face expressed self-satisfaction and he chuckled.

At that moment Michelangelo’s chisel slipped and broke off a small piece from the statue’s nose.

He yelled: “Crap! Utterly Crap! Leave me alone Pietro. Leave me alone!”

He swung his arm and knocked down the statue to the ground. The statue broke into pieces.

Pietro’s face showed bewilderment, which then turned into pity. He made a gesture to try to console Michelangelo, but saw in Michelangelo’s eyes that it would be better to leave.

He quietly walked towards the door.

As Pietro walked out of the studio he said: “You need a break my friend. Come to La Grande Festa tomorrow.”

Michelangelo lowered himself to the ground in resignation and yelled.

Michelangelo: “Leave me alone!”

Michelangelo sat on the floor for a while. Tears ran down his face as he was staring at the ground. The statue that he had worked on for hundred days was scattered around him in small pieces.

He picked up a small piece that laid next to his legs and looked at it. It had an odd shape and looked almost like a horseman. His teary face for a moment showed a smile.

He remembered the days when his father had taught him how to saddle a horse. He remembered how everything was so much simpler back then, back then before he had felt all the weight of expectations, back then before he felt the constant looks and murmurs of bystanders.

He continued staring at the broken piece, while turning the piece in his hand.

Eventually he got up. He left the studio and walked along the sculpture garden towards the small stable at the west side of Palazzo Medici. He entered the stable, which had eight horses lined in the row.

He walked up to Givon, the horse that Il Magnifico had given him for his sixteenth birthday. While putting his hand on the horse’s face and gently stroking it, he uttered:

Michelangelo: “Givon, you are my only friend here.”

Givon was a dark chestnut Calabrese with sloping shoulders and a broad, deep chest. This beautiful Calabrese had white outlines around all four of its hooves. Therefore Michelangelo sometimes referred to Givon as boots.

The horse as if acknowledging Michelangelo’s statement sounded out a short neigh.

Shortly after, Michelangelo walked towards and opened the gate of the stable. He greeted the guard. He took a saddle from the back of the stable and carefully fastened it around the horse’s torso.

Then Michelangelo mounted the horse and started galloping towards the open gate.

Chapter 3. Pico’s Arrival at Palazzo Medici

Piero de Medici, Il Magnifico’s eldest son, had been informed that Count Pico Della Mirandola was on his way to Palazzo Medici. While standing at the main gate and observing the clouds building up, he was eagerly awaiting his old tutor, whom he had not seen for nine months. His face was at first jovial but once he saw the carriage stop at the entrance, his face became more serious and almost showed a touch of anxiety. Seeing the Count exit the carriage he said:

Piero de Medici: “Master Della Mirandola! How glad I am to see you. Father is awaiting you. We are eager to find out what news you have for us.”

Count Pico Della Mirandola walked up the two stairs at the main gate of the Palazzo Medici. He embraced the young Piero de Medici with a warm smile.

Pico was a man of small stature yet a man of large intellect. It was said that he had once exclaimed, that he is not a philosophical poet but a poetical philosopher. His curly, long, dark hair and sharp nose gave his brown eyes a mysterious aura. He was wearing a blue hat and a red robe. As he embraced Piero de Medici he said:

Pico: “Piero, how you have grown my wise student. Please help me with these books.”

Pico Della Mirandola handed Piero some of the books and they stepped into the Palazzo.

As they walked through the palace courtyard Pico Della Mirandola murmured: “In Milan they say it’s a revolution”.

They walked up the stairway of the magnificent Palazzo. They walked through the hallway glancing over the walls covered by frescos and paintings by the great artists of the time.

They entered the main study of Lorenzo the Magnificent.

Il Magnifico was sitting behind a white marble desk. The desk was covered by a glass top with golden outlines. Glass murals, which depicted several scenes from Dante’s Devine Comedy, decorated the rectangular edges of the table’s top.

Il Magnifico was sitting on a large, yellow armchair made of velvet. The armchair’s back support depicted five red circles arranged in a triangle and a larger purple circle above the triangle.

The servants at the Palazzo used to referred to Il Magnifico’s study as the fairytale room.

But recently the study had acquired a more intimidating character, since Il Magnifico had moved Paolo Uccello’s large painting from his bedroom to the study.

It was one of Il Magnifico’s favorite paintings and depicted a scene from the San Romano battle, during which the Florentine had defeated the city of Sienna and its Visconti allies.

The large painting hung directly above Il Magnifico’s desk.

Il Magnifico had corse facial features, a large forehead and a protruding jaw. He had long brown hair, parted in the middle, a large nose and powerful brown eyes. His broad shoulders were covered in a fine red cloak.

As he noticed Pico and Piero enter his study, he looked up and said:

Il Magnifico: “Pico! Welcome back. Come in. What have you brought us? What news do you have from Venice, Rome, Milan?”

Pico walked in and said:

Pico: “Master Medici!”

After putting some books and manuscripts on the table he continued:

Pico: “In Milan they say it is a revolution! Master Leonardo says we are on the verge of a revolution in arts, building, transportation and weaponry.

Some claim soon he will build a horseless carriage, tunnels for underground cities, a giant ship that can sail the vast Ocean Sea and even a miraculously flying carriage.”

Il Magnifico laughed aloud. As his face became serious again he continued:

Il Magnifico: “How is Leonardo? Has he gone mad with age?

Do they still call him the great virtuoso in Milan?

We all know by now that Leonardo’s claims should be taken with a grain of salt.”

Pico replied:

Pico: “Master Leonardo is still working on the world’s biggest equestrian statue. But Regent Ludovico Il Moro is getting impatient. It has been almost ten years and he cannot complete the statue due to distractions of ever-new projects.”

Il Magnifico replied:

Il Magnifico: “Ah yes. That is how I remember Leonardo. I can’t believe it has been almost ten years since he left us. How time flies.

Does Leonardo still call himself a genius?

Everyone knows that you cannot call yourself a genius, only others can call you a genius.”

Il Magnifico paused for a moment and then continued:

“What about Rome? How is my beloved son Giovanni?”

Pico replied:

Pico: “The young Cardinal is doing well. He misses you immensely. He says our friend Pope Innocent’s condition is getting worse. Some say the Pope may not have much longer to live. There are even rumors that two Cardinals have conspired and poisoned the Pope.”

Il Magnifico exclaimed:

Il Magnifico: “Nonsense, such rumors. The Pope will recover with God’s help. He will see our beloved grandson Innocencio bravely galloping on the little pony that his holiness has sent us.”

As his arousal calmed he continued:

Il Magnifico: “Pico, what new findings have you brought us? Let us see.”

Pico reached into his leather bag and took out a rolled script. He said:

Pico: “From Genoa, a new map smuggled by some sailors from Constantinople. It depicts the riches of India and the spice markets of the Far East.”

He unrolled the script showing the map.

Pico continued:

Pico: “They say the Genovese seaman and mapmaker Christopher Columbus and the Royal Court of Castile are close to reaching an agreement for the financing terms of his daring expedition to the Indies. The seaman is still asking for the same terms as quoted last year.”

Il Magnifico’s face became pensive and after a while he replied:

Il Magnifico: “Interesting. Queen Isabella has become more daring since the end of Reconquista. We should keep an eye on these developments.”

He looked over to his son and said:

Il Magnifico: “Piero, if I forget, remind me to talk to Pierfrancesco about that Columbus guy.”

Pico unrolled more manuscripts.

Pico: “And here some Greek manuscripts on Geometry by the ancient Alexandrian masters. I found them in Venice.

And here some writings from the ancient Athenian philosophers. I was able to purchase them in Augsburg for a bargain.”

Il Magnifico’s face became radian and he gayly exclaimed:

Il Magnifico: “Pico, you never cease to surprise me. The Medici library already houses some of the best and rarest writings in the world. The library will become even richer and more magnificent with your help.”

Then he became pensive for a moment and continued:

Il Magnifico: “So a revolution they say hmm. One never knows if Leonardo has gone mad or is speaking with divine visions.

What do they say in Rome of our young artist Michelangelo? He has turned into a formidable young man and is divinely gifted. I think he can be better than Leonardo. He works like possessed. And it is just his first year at the academy. I have never seen anything like that before. You will see him tomorrow at La Grande Festa.”

Pico’s face showed a sign of satisfaction and he inquired:

Pico: “How is young Michelangelo? Yes, people in Rome are speaking of young Michelangelo Buonarotti’s talents.”

And without waiting for an answer he continued:

“And also Master Medici, in Rome they are speaking of a young child, aged ten, Raphael of Urbino. He is very talented and some call him the Leonardo of Urbino. The child is able to paint faces with the same divine beauty as young Leonardo once did. Poor Raphael’s mother has passed away. He is grief stricken.”

Il Magnifico’s face became animated and he exclaimed:

Il Magnifico: “We have to invite young Raphael to Florence. Florence is the new Rome. You need to tell his father that it is best for his son. In Florence the boy can learn from our great Master Botticelli and all the other great artists. Botticelli is in a flow right now. His decorations for this years La Grande Festa look amazing.

You will see them all tomorrow at La Grande Festa. It is going to be grand! You will see everyone tomorrow.

You must be tired Pico. Go get some rest. We shall talk tomorrow.”

Chapter 4. Michelangelo at Home

The sun was setting when Michelangelo arrived at his family home in Arrezzo.

When he walked through the door, he noticed his brother Gismondo sitting in the corner and playing with their golden retriever, Piolo. As Gismondo saw his brother enter, he got up and approached Michelangelo exclaiming:

Gismondo: “Migel, what a surprise! You came home. How great it is that you are here. How is the academy?”

Piolo also ran towards Michelangelo. While wagging his tail, Piolo jumped up and put his paws on Michelangelo. Piolo’s excited body was twitching uncontrollably. Michelangelo began rubbing the dogs ears after which Piolo calmed down.

Michelangelo paused for a moment and then replied.

Michelangelo: “Things are going great. We are learning a lot.”

Gismondo nodded and continued with excitement:

Gismondo: “I took Piolo to the lake today, up Precci hill. The little beast had a great time in the water and tried chasing the geese. Remember the geese last summer when we were…”

Gismondo’s animated expression was getting ready to tell a story, but at that moment Michelangelo’s father, Ludovico, entered the room.

Seeing Michelangelo he nodded and quickly asked:

Ludovico: “What are you doing here? Isn’t tomorrow the Medici Festa? Should you not be preparing for it?”

Michelangelo’s face showed initial terror and some tension, but he raised his head in defiance and replied:

Michelangelo: “Yes it is tomorrow, but I don’t think I will be going.”

Ludovico’s face became puzzled and he angrily exclaimed:

Ludovico: “You don’t think you will be going? Do you know how much your brothers and I have sacrificed so you can attend that damn academy? You are thinking not to go? You are thinking? There is nothing to think about. It is not your choice. It is the family’s choice and it has been made.”

Michelangelo’s eyes lit up in an intense sparkle and he replied:

Michelangelo: “But father! There is no value to that Festa anyways. It will be as it was last year. The same dances, the same speeches, the same smiles. The same people hiding behind masks made by the same Master Botticelli. Maybe the masks will be different this year. But what is the point?”

Ludovico answered angrily:

Ludovico: “What is the point? I don’t want to hear that nonsense in this house. You will go to La Grande Festa. We are not discussing this. And just as I told you, you should prepare a small statue and surprise Il Magnifico.”

Michelangelo’s face became tense and he exclaimed:

Michelangelo: “Il Magnifico does not need any surprises and he has enough statues already. I am an artist, I don’t make damn souvenirs! I make art! I make great art!”

Ludovico replied:

Ludovico: “I haven’t seen you making much art lately! So let me make it clear one more time, the Festa is not up for discussion. You are going.”

Michelangelo turned and walked away. While walking away he shouted:

Michelangelo: “ I am tired of being an attraction!”

That night Michelangelo was laying in bed unable to sleep. He was staring at the cracks in the sealing. His mind was racing with thoughts.

His eyes were teary and he kept repeating to himself: “Why me? Why me? Why did it have to be me Holy Father?”

And he eventually fell asleep.

Chapter 5. Machiavelli’s Chamber

Niccolo Machiavelli opened his eyes. After looking around for a moment he exclaimed:

Niccolo: “What time is it? I need to go pick up the new robe for tonight.”

He was still getting accustomed to his new chamber, where he had been living for about two weeks. It wasn’t much to look at. It was small, with old furniture. During the winter months it carried a slight smell of humidity.

But it was his own place. For the first time he was independent, away from his overbearing father, and he could do anything he wanted.

The girl next to him, Anna, opened her eyes in confusion and said in a sleepy voice.

Anna: “What is tonight? What are you getting ready for?”

Niccolo while wiping his face with his right hand and stroking his curly, short, brown hair, replied with excitement:

Niccolo: “I want to go to La Grande Festa at the Palazzo.”

Anna’s face became puzzled. She turned her gaze to Niccolo and her blue eyes reflected a mix of compassion and bewilderment. She replied:

Anna: “At the Palazzo? You? How? You are not invited. The guards will not let you in.”

Niccolo exclaimed:

Niccolo: “I will find a way to get in. You will see!”

Anna replied in a soft voice:

Anna: “Niccolo, you are a dreamer. People in those circles don’t mix with us common folk. The show is only for the Popolo Grasso.”

Niccolo exclaimed:

Niccolo: “You will see!”

He jumped out of bed, put on his clothes, gave Anna a brief kiss and walked out of the chamber.

Chapter 6. Palazzo Medici — La Grande Festa

La Grande Festa was an annual festival that Il Magnifico hosted every January. Its purpose was to honor and recognize the pursuit of arts, the arts community, the City of Florence, the Medici, and Il Magnifico himself.

Aristocrats from all corners of the Italian Peninsula gathered at the Palazzo Medici to see and be seen at La Grande Festa, and to meet the most promising artists of the next generation.

Botticelli was the lead decorator and coordinator of the event. Il Magnifico provided Botticelli unlimited resources to impress the numerous guests with his creations.

Each year Botticelli attempted to surpass himself by creating magnificent displays, clever illusions and breathtaking shows that would bedazzle everyone. During the Festa’s final preparation week the citizens of Florence gossiped and circulated rumors about the upcoming La Grande Festa and the marvels to be expected.

Naturally, Botticelli was one of the first to arrive, so he could inspect the displays in the main and side courtyards and the sculpture garden. He also checked on the many indoor decorations to make sure every detail was as intended. The theme for this year’s La Grande Festa was fire. It was motivated by Dante’s Inferno. Yet Botticelli had not shared the source of his inspiration. Eight intricate fire displays were disbursed at different locations around the Palazzo.

Right in front of the entry gate to the Palazzo garden stood a large structure resembling a windmill with its spinning wings holding flames.

Several fire-artists performed marvelous feats in the garden. Some artists were spinning poles with flames on them and some blew flames out of their mouths.

There were also many sculptures illuminated by flames of different and unusual colors. The entire spectacle was in a colorful glow.

Yet the dominant color of this year’s Festa was red.

Guests were slowly trickling in, with some of the most notable guests still absent. At the front gate each guest received a red mask, which differed by gender. The ladies’ mask had the shape of a red butterfly with yellow dots. The gentlemen’s mask had the shape of a red woodpecker’s head with a long beak.

The guest usually carried their masks and occasionally covered their faces with them.

Botticelli strolled around the Festa making his rounds and checking on the different displays. On his stroll many stopped to congratulate him on his creations. He usually nodded and continued his stroll.

When he was walking along the Palazzo’s main courtyard he saw Pietro Bembo approaching him.

Pietro walked up to him and exclaimed: “Master Botticelli the decorations are exquisite. There is a spirituality to it that I would like to capture in a poem”.

Botticelli nodded and replied: “Thank you”.

He was about to continue his stroll.

Yet at that moment he saw two young ladies walking towards him. Their faces were covered with red butterfly masks. One of the ladies had dark hair and was wearing a light blue satin dress. The other had blond hair and was wearing a red dress with puffy sleeves and golden strings along the front. Botticelli tried to visualize their faces behind the masks. Who they might be? He thought.

His expression lightened up, while anticipating the expected praise on the decor.

As the ladies approached, the brunet exclaimed with excitement: “Pietro Bembo, when will we hear your newest song. It was said that you have recently played it at Palazzo Pitti”.

Pietro turned towards the ladies and replied: “There will be other opportunities to hear. Yet one never knows when. Maybe soon”.

The blond lady stepped forward. While placing her hand on Pietro’s arm she asked: “Can you play it tonight?”

Pietro looked at her face covered by the red mask. The mask was accentuated by her red dress. The golden strings that ran across the front of the dress for a moment captured Pietro’s attention. Together with the curvature of her body, they reminded him of a musical instrument.

He then raised his gaze towards the red mask, which was partially covered by her golden hair, and replied:

Pietro: “It is better when it is a surprise”.

The conversation was apparently irritating Botticelli. He was unaccustomed to not being the center of attention, especially in female company. He hadn’t fully paid attention to the conversation topic, yet he interrupted and said:

Botticelli: “That is great! Well, if you excuse me ladies, I have some more important things to take care of. So I better go”.

As he was starting to walk away from the group the brunette said with a smile: “Master Botticelli, the decorations are exquisite”.

Botticelli nodded his head and continued walking.

Pietro was also getting ready to walk away, but the blond lady came closer to him and asked:

“Pietro, where do you usually get the inspirations for your songs?”

As the blonde lady came closer, Pietro could feel the touch of her full breast against his arm. Yet before he could respond to the question a commotion gripped the courtyard and was followed by an odd silence.

All eyes in the courtyard turned towards the main gate.

The sisters Beatrice and Isabella D’Este had just entered the main courtyard. Behind them followed their eldest brother Alfonso D’Este.

Beatrice, Isabella and Alfonso were the children of Duke Ercole D’Este, the Duke of Ferrara. Some called Ercole D’Este the biggest arts patron in Northern Italy. The D’Este were one of the most respected and oldest families in Europe. The D’Este court was often visited by many accomplished artists from all over Europe and even the King of France often stopped in Ferrara during his visits to Milan. The D’Este sisters had grown up in frequent contact with many accomplished artists who passed through Ferrara.

Beatrice D’Este was reputed as one of the most beautiful and accomplished Italian princesses. She had dark brown hair and green eyes. Beatrice was only sixteen and had recently married the Regent of Milan, Ludovico Sforza, aka Il Moro. The Court of Milan was one of the most vibrant courts of the Italian Peninsula and employed among other artists Master Leonardo Da Vinci and Master Donato Bramante.

After arriving in Milan, Beatrice had become one of Leonardo Da Vinci’s closest friends. Leonardo and her shared many common interests in arts, specifically in theater. Her taste was evident in the decorative splendor of Castelo Sforzesco, the Sforza Family’s main residence in Milan. She was also known for her inventive, new clothing styles.

Her sister Isabella D’Este, just a year older than Beatrice, was called “Donna Eccezionale”, the exceptional woman. Isabella had dyed, pale-blond hair and brown eyes that were full of fire. Her beautiful face was often lit up by her scattered smile.

From a young age Isabella had studied roman history, latin and greek and was in frequent contact with many scholars and humanists. She was friends with many musicians, poets, writers and was herself a talented musician and singer. She was also an innovator in new dances, as she had been instructed by the well known dancing master Ambrogio.

Isabella painted rarely but claimed that she painted mainly through her fashion and innovative clothes, which she always designed herself.

The blue and golden dress that Isabella wore to the Festa sparkled from all the colorful fire displays illuminating the courtyard.

As the sisters entered the courtyard, a crowd gathered around them. Master Perugino, also known as the elder from Perugia, for his forty-six years of wisdom, was one of the first to approach the sisters. While cordially greeting the siblings Perugino exclaimed with a glow.

Perugino: “My ladies you both look so splendid tonight! How you have both grown up and matured.”

Beatrice curtsied and replied:

Beatrice: “Dear Maestro, how lively you look! With time you are only becoming more vigorous and jovial.”

Isabella also approached the elderly master and continued:

Isabella: “Master Perugino, it seems as if it was yesterday when you painted us playing in Papa’s sculpture garden.”

Perugino became pensive for a moment.

Beatrice trying to change the topic continued:

Beatrice: “Maestro, in Milan everyone is talking about the Albani Altarpiece, that you have recently completed.

What excellent work. It is such a playful experimentation with perspective. Not to mention the great balance between symmetry and asymmetry.

And the devotion in the faces is so powerful.

The composition reminds me of your Delivery of Keys fresco at the Sistine Chapel.

Also Master Leonardo praised it for its simplicity”.

A smile appeared on Perugino’s face. Perugino replied with a mix of awe and sarcasm:

Perugino: “Ah Master Leonardo! What a character! I still remember our apprenticeship days at Master Verrocchio’s studio. He used to drive the old Verrocchio mad.

If only Master Leonardo could finish some paintings. I think he has so much potential, but so little discipline.

Is he attending the Fiesta tonight?”

Beatrice looked at Perugino and replied with a smile:

Beatrice: “Well, that I don’t know my dear Maestro. Sometimes Master Leonardo disappears and one does not see him for days or sometimes weeks. It is when he gets into his experiments. You know? And then he reappears again, out of nowhere.

It has been about three weeks since we have seen him last. But he always surprises us with his sudden appearances.”

The crowd that had gathered around the D’Este sisters had gradually grown. In the crowd were many young painters, who wanted to capture the attention of a potential, wealthy patron.

Pietro Bembo had been watching the spectacle from afar. He had been observing Isabella, while she was talking to the numerous young artists approaching her. While looking at Isabella, he thought that for a moment her eyes had met his gaze and a brief expression of familiarity had become visible on her face.

Botticelli was returning from the garden when he noticed a crowd gathered around the D’Este sisters at the entrance to the main courtyard. To avoid the crowd he turned into the corridor leading to the side courtyard. While he was walking through the corridor he noticed Amerigo Vespucci walking directly towards him. Amerigo appeared to be distracted in his thoughts.

When Amerigo was just couple of feet in front of Botticelli, he suddenly noticed Botticelli and with a quick gesture of his arm exclaimed:

Amerigo: “Master Botticelli, what a delight to encounter you. The decorations are breathtaking. It would be a shame if someone of your creative potential did not express your true emotions through art.”

Botticelli nodded. A smile appeared on his face and he replied:

“Thank you, my dear Amerigo. What did Father Giorgio say about the portrait? Was it to his liking?”

Amerigo quickly replied:

“Yes, uncle was mesmerized. He said that the likeness is exceptional, and the beauty is breathtaking.”

Botticelli’s face became vibrant and he replied:

Botticelli: “Very glad to hear that. Father Giorgio is such a wise and exceptional canon. Hopefully next week I will find some time to visit Santa Maria Del Fiore and maybe converse with him.”

Botticelli suddenly noticed a tension on Amerigo’s face.

Amerigo then became animated and using sudden hand gestures replied:

Amerigo: “He surely will be excited to see you. Master Botticelli, if you excuse me, I need to seek out Pierfrancesco to discuss some administrative matters.”

Saying this Amerigo continued walking towards the main courtyard, while becoming engulfed in deep thoughts.

Amerigo had been distracted all day, unable to really engage in any conversations at La Grande Festa.

The day after he had left Botticelli’s studio, Amerigo had woken up with a headache and unable to recall what had occurred the night before. He could only recall happily singing some songs, together with two ladies, at Massimilliano’s Inn.

Worst of all, he could not find the portrait that Botticelli had painted of his uncle Giorgio.

The next day Amerigo had returned to Massimilliano’s Inn to look for the portrait, but to no avail. He wasn’t sure what to do or what to say to his uncle.

Now his unrealistic plan was to find a young, talented painter, who would paint a new portrait, which he could present to his uncle as Botticelli’s work. Among other challenges it required that the portrait be painted from memory.

He was walking around La Grande Festa, while thinking through his plan and hoping to find a young, talented painter as a potential accomplice.

Running into Botticelli at the Festa only confirmed to Amerigo the difficulty of his new plan. Amerigo had tried to maintain an outward calm. He was not sure if Botticelli had noticed anything. But he hoped that Botticelli had continued his walk without any suspicion.

Botticelli had been surprised by the sudden anxiety that he had noticed in Amerigo’s eyes, but he continued walking without thinking too much about it. When Botticelli arrived in the side courtyard, he saw Count Pico Della Mirandola walking out of the right stairway. Pico also noticed Botticelli and signaled to him with a friendly hand gesture. Botticelli started approaching Pico and his face lit up.

While the guests were still arriving at Palazzo Medici, Il Magnifico was in his study discussing some of the newest business and political affairs with his cousin Pierfrancesco and his eldest son Piero De Medici.

Pierfrancesco was a handsome man, with a round face and dark brown, curly hair. His brown-greenish eyes gave him an overly innocent look. He was an intelligent man, an astute observer of situations and an exceptional investor.

Pierfrancesco was also knowledgable about the latest humanist ideas and had grown up under the academic tutelage of Angelo Poliziano and Father Giorgio Vespucci, Amerigo’s uncle.

Pierfrancesco often commissioned large artworks, among them was The Primavera, which Botticelli had painted to commemorate the wedding between Pierfrancesco and the beautiful Semirande Appiano of Piombo.

Il Magnifico had arranged his cousin Pierfrancesco’s marriage to Semirande Appiano. The Appiani, were a noble Italian family, which was related by marriage to the Aragonese royal family of Naples.

The wedding, which ten years ago had marked Pierfrancesco’s entrance into adulthood, catapulted his professional career. Just a year after his wedding, at only eighteen years of age, he was present at the coronation of King Charles the VII of France, where Pierfrancesco was sent as a Florentine ambassador.

Using his newly acquired commercial ties garnered through the marriage, Pierfancesco had amassed significant wealth by trading and investing into the spice trade. At the age of twenty eight he was already one of the richest men in Florence.

Pierfrancesco was pacing around Il Magnifico’s study, while listening to Piero De Medici’s long statement. He suddenly stopped and interceded:

Pierfrancesco: “I don’t think we should hastily decide on the loan or wether to throw our lot with the French or the Spanish. We should rather take our time and observe how the situation is developing.

Indeed the French King is very powerful and the rumors of the new French cannons are said to be true. Yet His Majesty is also unpredictable and easily manipulated.

The most catholic monarchs Isabella and Ferdinand on the other hand are in a resurgence. The victory over the Emirate of Granada and the final expulsion of the Moors from the continent are just the beginning. The Spanish are starting to cultivate the Canary Islands and can easily expand into North Africa.”

Pierfrancesco’s statement was followed by a moment of silence.

Then Il Magnifico replied:

Il Magnifico: “Why don’t we send someone to Seville to observe the developments in Andalusia and to gauge the new trade route towards Africa. That way we can also get updates about that Genovese seaman Columbus and his proposed voyage to the Indies.”

Il Magnifico paused for a moment and then continued:

Il Magnifico: “And at the same time we should send a delegation to France to discuss a collaboration with the French King by also involving our friend Il Moro.”

Pierfrancesco nodded and replied:

Pierfrancesco: “I think Amerigo would be the ideal candidate as our Spanish market observer. He is loyal, crafty, and has great judgement. And he has been to Seville before.”

Il Magnifico’s face showed some dissatisfaction, which then turned into indifference. He eventually replied:

Il Magnifico: “Fine, I will leave these details to you. Piero will assist you with the organization of the French delegation.

Now I need some time to rehearse my speech.”

Hearing this Piero and Pierfrancesco nodded and started walking towards the door.

Outside of Palazzo Medici, Niccolo Machiavelli had been waiting and observing the crowd for the past thirty minutes. He was standing in front of the Basilica San Lorenzo observing the guests slowly trickling in. He wore a brand-new, red robe with purple outlines and a new, fashionable cavalier’s hat. His hair was well groomed and he wore a ruby crest around his neck. Niccolo had been closely observing the guards at both entry gates, while trying to devise the best way to enter.

When he was looking at the crowd gathered by the gate leading to the garden, Niccolo suddenly noticed a brown-robed horseman stopping in front of the small gate of the stable. The horseman dismounted and cordially greeted the guards at the stable. He handed the horse to one of the guards and walked into the stable.

The horseman was Michelangelo, who walked through the stable towards the small door leading to the garden. He entered the garden. The garden was illuminated by the flames of three fire-dancers, who were collectively spinning their fire-poles in a choreographed performance.

He walked towards the fire-dancers. While Michelangelo was walking he overheard someone say: “That is the guy that I was telling you about.”

Michelangelo stopped behind a crowd that had gathered in front of the fire-dancers. He heard some more murmurs. Then he could make out the words: “He is always late. He probably thinks he is too important to be on time.”

The three fire-dancers had captured Michelangelo’s attention. He was observing the three flames moving.

Initially the three dancers were aligned in the row, so one could only see a single body and three poles spinning in the same circle. Then two of the three fire-dancers started walking in opposite directions and the three flames started moving away from each other.

While the guests were enjoying the fire spectacle, two servants entered the garden and asked everyone to slowly begin moving towards the grand ballroom on the second floor.

Botticelli and Pico were already walking up the stairway leading up from the side courtyard of the Palazzo. Botticelli’s face expression was serious and he was speaking at an increased rate:

Botticelli: “My dear Pico, but you don’t understand.

My entire body is aching, burning and itching. My joints are in pain. And my feet, my feet feel as if they are burning in coal.

I don’t understand what is happening.

The pain is non-stop. It is unbearable.

I think God is punishing me for my sins.

I can’t really sleep. And I am having all these nightmares when I do fall asleep. I have tried to drink less wine, but it just gets worse.

All these nightmares. I am unable to sleep.

I don’t know what to do!

My entire body is burning non-stop.

Some nights St. Peter appears and tells me that I have sinned. He hands me a blue lily and tells me that I have praised the pagan gods and the pagan ways, and have abandoned our true Lord.”

As he spoke, Botticelli’s eyes were full of terror and he continued in despair:

“St. Peter appears and tells me, that the judgment day is coming and that I will burn in hell.”

Pico tried to reassure Botticelli and answered:

Pico: “Nonsense my dear Botticelli. Doesn’t Father Savanarolla say, that the Lord is forgiving?

You just have to find the path back. Use your art to praise our Lord and you will be worthy of his endless love.”

Botticelli continued:

Botticelli: “But I have betrayed our Lord.

I have let myself to be misled. Oh, stupid me!

And that’s not all.

I have violated the sanctity of the female body. Everyone in Florence, when speaking of Master Botticelli, thinks of all the nudes that are decorating the decadent walls of the Florentine Palazzos. I do not deserve God’s love.

And then there is that wicked fresco at Palazzo Del Bargello.

I am going to burn in hell! Do you understand what that means?”

Botticelli’s face showed a mix of terror and hopelessness.

Pico put his arm on Botticelli’s shoulder and replied:

Pico: “I am telling you, it is never too late. You just have to find the right path. Continue talking to Father Savanarolla and he will guide you towards it.”

The guest were slowly entering the grand ballroom of the Palazzo.

When Michelangelo entered the grand ballroom, he noticed several gazes turning towards him. He felt his heartbeat increase and his knees were beginning to shake a bit. He stood alone in a corner of the grand ballroom while observing the crowd.

The large rectangular ballroom was filled with Italian aristocrats and scores of young and older artists. In the far side of the ballroom a small stage was set up. There was no one on the stage and also the vicinity of the stage was mostly empty. Michelangelo could only recognize Pierfrancesco and Piero de Medici standing next to the stage and talking to a gray-haired, elderly man, who was wearing a black robe.

Michelangelo stood there alone in the corner of the ballroom looking around. He recognized several of his Medici Academy classmates standing in a group along the right wall. Torrigiano, a nineteen year old sculptor from the senior class, was telling a story while gesticulating with his hands.

After a while Pietro Bembo approached Michelangelo. While putting his arm on Michelangelo’s shoulder Pietro said: “I am glad you came!”

A smile appeared on Michelangelo’s face.

Shortly after, a loud sound was heard. A prolonged drum beat shook the ballroom and all the attention moved towards the small stage.

Il Magnifico was walking up on stage. He was wearing a plush, red robe with white fur attachments, as well as, ankle-high, dark-green trousers with black stripes.

The crowd became momentarily silent.

Il Magnifico stood on stage for a moment as the suspense in the room increased. He then raised his right arm and exclaimed:

Il Magnifico: “Dear citizens of Florence and dearest Italian neighbors!”

He paused for a moment and then continued:

Il Magnifico: “Sixty years ago my grand-father Cosimo De Medici had a vision.

He had a vision of a prosperous Florence, where imagination and creativity would become the nourishments of the human spirit.

He had a vision of a prosperous Florence, where hard work and dedication would open a path for every citizen to reach one’s dreams.

And above all he had a vision of a prosperous Italian homeland, as he often said that shared prosperity is squared prosperity.”

The crowd began cheering.

Il Magnifico continued:

“Sixty years ago my grand-father Cosimo made a pledge to support Florence in its pursuit of arts and higher knowledge. He envisioned that Florence would become the Italian compass and a guiding pole towards a more enlightened society.”

He paused for a moment and then continued:

“Twenty eight years ago, on my grand-fathers deathbed, I promised to him that I will continue his pledge until his vision becomes reality.”

The crowd erupted in cheers!

Il Magnifico waited till the crowd had quieted down and continued:

“We are here tonight to recognize and honor the artists, who help us see the world in new and older ways.

We are here to honor the artists, who envision a different world with their words and the artists, who create a different world with their hands.

We are here to continue the legacy of the artists and builders, who have given our beloved Florence the majestic Cathedral of Santa Maria Del Fiore.”

The crowd became jubilant!

While standing next to Michelangelo, Pietro Bembo had been watching Isabella D’Este, who stood only few steps away along the wall. As the crowd was in cheers, Pietro slowly stepped forward towards her, and while standing behind her whispered into her shoulder:

Pietro: “My dearest Isabella, I have written something for you, I want you to have it.”

Isabella recognized Pietro’s voice. Her heartbeat increased. She started breathing heavily. She felt a tingling sensation in her fingers and along her neck.

Yet trying to maintain an outward calm she replied:

Isabella: “Not now Pietro! Maybe later!”

She returned her attention to the stage.

After a brief pause Il Magnifico continued:

Il Magnifico: “We are here to recognize those who will follow the footsteps of the giants Giotto, Brunelleschi and Donatello.”

The crowd broke out in cheers again!

Il Magnifico continued:

Il Magnifico: “Each year we honor outstanding artists with awards that represent steady longevity, faithful dedication, divine inspiration and youthful vigor. And today we will continue that tradition by honoring two exceptional artists.

He paused again. Then slightly raising his voice Il Magnifico continued:

“This year’s “Golden Lily Lifetime Award” will honor a man, whose lifetime contributions to Florentine art and whose general impact on the beauty of our beloved city, are an inspiration to the younger generations.

The recipient of this years Golden Lily Lifetime Award is…”

Il Magnifico paused for a moment to increase the suspense, although many in the crowd already knew who the recipient would be. He then exclaimed:

Il Magnifico: Sandro Botticelli!

Applause was heard from all around the ballroom. Shouts of “Bravo!” and “Viva Maestro” were heard as well.

Botticelli walked up to the stage. As Il Magnifico handed him the Golden Lily, slight tears were visible in Botticelli’s eyes. His shaky hands held the Lily and he looked towards the crowd, that was still in collective cheers. After a while his green eyes became fixated on the two fire displays illuminating the ballroom door, and a sense of terror gripped his eyes.

When the crowd quieted down Il Magnifico continued:

Il Magnifico: “And that’s not all. We have another award.

This year’s “Young Trailblazer Medallion” will recognize a young man, whose endless dedication, hard work and artistic brilliance show just a glimpse of his true potential. The most promising young artist of this year is…”

Il Magnifico paused again to increase the suspense, although all knew of Il Magnifico’s favorite. After a moment he exclaimed:

Il Magnifico: Michelangelo Buonarroti

Michelangelo for a moment became disoriented and his vision froze. His mouth dried up and he started breathing heavily.

He was certainly flattered by the award and happy about it. Yet at the same time he knew that the award would only increase the jealousy of his classmates and alienate him even more.

When he gathered some composure, he started walking towards the stage. He could feel every single gaze burning into his body. He got up on stage and Il Magnifico handed him a large, bronze medallion, which had the profile of Cosimo de Medici engraved on it.

Michelangelo held the medallion and stood there still not fully aware of what was happening. His heart was beating profusely.

Although the crowd was cheering, Michelangelo was unable to hear what was happening around him.

After a moment Il Magnifico continued:

“We have many exceptional, promising, young artists in Florence. It was a difficult decision this year.

With all the potential I witness here, the future of Florentine art is brighter than ever.

With all the vigor I can feel here tonight, the future of our great Florentine Democracy is brighter than ever.

And most importantly with all of you friends visiting us from afar, our alliance with our Italian brothers is stronger than ever!”

The crowd broke out in cheers again.

Shouts of “Il Magnifico” were heard throughout the Palazzo and were followed by more cheers and laughter.

Just outside of the Palazzo, Niccolo Machiavelli was walking down a dark alleyway. His new robe was dirty and partially torn. His attempt to enter La Grande Festa, by breaking into the stable, had been unsuccessful.

One of the guards had noticed him, when Niccolo was already in the stable. The guards had captured him and had thrown him out. He was walking with his head lowered. He was wandering in the general direction of his new chamber but was inattentive to the path.

All of a sudden something monstrous appeared on his left and was moving towards him. There was a loud noise. He momentarily stopped and jumped back. Something passed him by and dislodged the cavalier’s hat from his head. Niccolo became disoriented. Once he was in senses again, he recognized a horseman wearing a black robe with an embroidered blue cross, riding past him on a large-brown horse.

Niccolo raised his arm and yelled: “You damn Aristocrats! You think you can do anything you want? Vafanculo!”

The horseman disappeared into the darkness of the night, leaving a trail of dust. The man was riding towards the Monastery of San Marco. He wore a dark hood, which covered most of his face.

As the rider came closer to the Monastery, he pulled the strings to slow down his horse. In front of the Monastery’s chapel he dismounted and tied the horse. He walked into the chapel. He took some steps, entered one of the rows and stood there.

At the front of the chapel, at the pulpit, stood a meager, short friar with both of his arms raised. His eyes showed a mysterious intensity and his voice rang throughout the chapel. He yelled:

Friar: “Gabriel appeared to me last night and brought a message from our Lord.

Arch-angel Gabriel spoke to me and told me that our Lord’s wrath is coming. The final judgement day is coming.”

The Friar paused for a moment and then continued:

Friar: “He told me,

All the greedy tyrants, who suppress our freedom and take our livelihoods will soon see their justice served.

All the decadent pigs, who have enriched themselves by corrupting the Holy Sea of St. Peter will soon see their justice served.

The sword of justice will come down from the North and sweep away the shackles of bondage and tyranny! And the true children of God will be free again!”

The crowd broke out in cheers!

Shouts of “death to the tyrants” was audible.

Several blocks away at Palazzo Medici the guests were slowly leaving. Some of the youthful and energetic were still celebrating upstairs. Music could be heard from the grand ballroom.

Downstairs, in a corner of the garden stood Isabella D’Este. She was tired. After having talked to scores of artists and young aristocrats all night, she needed some time to herself.

She stood there observing the three large candles mounted on an oversized, silver candleholder that was specifically commissioned for La Grande Festa. The candleholder had numerous fine engravings depicting scenes from Dante’s Inferno.

One of the candles was red, one green and one blue. The three candles together illuminated the vicinity by creating a colorful play of lights and shadows under the darkness of the sky.

Isabella was standing there in thoughts when she noticed Pietro Bembo approaching her.

Pietro walked up to her and said:

Pietro: “Isabella! There you are. I have been looking for you. I have written a poem for you. I want you to read it.”

Pietro took out a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out.

Isabella looked at Pietro. She looked at the paper and after a moment replied:

Isabella: “After all that has happened between us, you want me to read your poem? Was it not enough all that I went through?

Pietro’s face became pleading and he continued:

Pietro: “Please Isabella, there was so much I couldn’t tell you back then. Just please read the poem. It will explain everything.”

Isabella took the poem. She held it in her hand and began inspecting it. The paper was folded in half. One side had a drawing of a passionflower-vine shaped like the letter I.

She turned the paper around. After a moment she moved it towards the red candle at her left and held the paper into the flame. The paper slowly began burning.

She then turned to Pietro and said with a cynical voice:

Isabella: “I would rather read the accounting books of my father, than a single one of your poems.”

A shade of sadness took over Pietro’s face. He realized that his eyes were becoming teary. He tried his hardest to suppress his tears by biting his jaw together. He took a deep breath and after a moment replied with a quiet voice:

Pietro: Understandable.

Pietro turned around and with his head lowered started walking towards the main courtyard. Tears started running down his face.

Before entering the main courtyard he stopped and wiped his face with his sleeve.

When he entered the main courtyard, he noticed someone approaching through the corridor leading from the side courtyard. It was a blond girl. As she came closer, he recognized her red dress with golden strings around the front.

He looked up and exclaimed:

Pietro: “My lady what a pleasure to encounter you here.”

The girl seemed initially disoriented but then replied with joyful and slightly slurred words: “Ohhhh, Pietro, what a pleasant surprise. You here.”

She took some shaky steps towards him.

Pietro looked at her and said:

Pietro: “I think tonight could be a great night to write a new song. Would you like to help me?”

He held out his hand to her.

She replied: Well, maybe I can try.

She grabbed his hand and they started walking towards the main gate of the Palazzo.

Chapter 7. At Villa Di Castello

The past few days, Pierfrancesco had been staying at his hillside residence Villa Di Castello. He wanted to take a break from his stressful obligations of overseeing the Medici Bank, one of Europe’s largest banks.

During La Grande Festa, Pierfrancesco had asked Amerigo to stop by at his hillside Villa on Wednesday afternoon.

Amerigo had arrived at Villa Di Castello and was sitting and waiting in a spacious, lounge area, to which a servant had guided him. The area opened to a marvelous view of the historic city, Sesto Fiorentino.

The Villa had a reputation of its own and its decorative splendor exceeded every visitor’s expectations. In the illusion hallway, as Pierfrancesco used to call it, hung many exceptional paintings. Among them was Botticelli’s portrait of the beautiful and renowned art model Simonetta Vespucci.

Simonetta Vespucci was once considered a beauty icon in Italy. Before her premature death at the age of twenty-two in 1476, it was said that she was one of the most beautiful ladies Italy had ever seen.

She had been married to Amerigo’s distant cousin Marco Vespucci and was also aunt to Pierfrancesco’s wife Semirande.

There were also rumors that for many years the late Simonetta and the now assassinated Giuliano de Medici had been leading an affair. Although few ever spoken of that affair, it was said that the Lord had given Simonetta her beauty to tempt the unfortunate souls.

Botticelli had been among the many Florentines who were devastated by Simonetta’s premature death sixteen years ago.

It was said that Botticelli had proclaimed Simonetta the best art-model of all times. They also said that it was Simonetta’s likeness that Botticelli had tried to capture in his masterpiece The Birth of Venus.

The illusion hallway at Villa di Castello lavishly displayed Pierfrancesco’s most favorite two artworks.

These two paintings, Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and The Primavera were the pride of Pierfrancesco’s collection.

When Amerigo had entered the Villa, unlike in the past, he had felt an odd feeling walking by these two, large paintings hanging almost opposite each other.

He was not sure why Pierfrancesco wanted to see him and was feeling slightly anxious.

When Pierfrancesco entered the room, he greeted Amerigo and promptly sat down on a large, red sofa in the middle of the room. He looked at Amerigo and said:

Pierfrancesco: “Lucky you! Finally you are getting that assignment abroad you wanted.

Unfortunately, it is not Barcelona, which you were hoping for, but you won’t be too far. You are going back to Seville, but this time for about a year!”

Amerigo became somewhat puzzled and asked: “Seville? For a year? Is this related to Berardi again?”

Pierfrancesco continued:

Pierfrancesco: “Yes Seville, but not because of Berardi!

I have an important assignment for you.

Remember the old Master Paolo Toscanelli, the mathematician, who passed away about ten years ago?”

Amerigo replied: “Of course! God bless his soul. Such a wise man! I remember that Master Toscanelli used to visit uncle Giorgio and they used to talk about astronomy.”

Pierfrencesco continued:

Pierfrancesco: “Ok. Well, about twenty years ago, Master Toscanelli made some calculations on the size of the earth. And using some astronomy and some geometry he drew a map of the Ocean Sea. According to his map, if one sails westward into the Ocean Sea, one would reach the Indies and the Far East Islands in less than two months.

I know this sounds outlandish, but just bare with me.

There is a Genovese seaman, Christopher Columbus, who had been in correspondence with the late Master Toscanelli.

Columbus had lived in Lisbon for many years. For many years he had tried to convince the King of Portugal to finance an expedition along the route mapped by Toscanelli.

Columbus had pitched an expedition towards the Island Sipango, the one that Marco Polo wrote about in his book.

But remember when four years ago the Portuguese Admiral Bartholomeu Dias sailed around the southern-most tip of Africa and established Cape of Good Hope. Well, after that the Portuguese showed no more interest in Columbus’ speculative expedition to reach the Indies by sailing west.

So Columbus started pitching his idea to the Spanish Court, the French Court and even the King of England.

And now we have some news that finally Columbus might be getting financing for his expedition. The Most Catholic monarchs Isabella and Ferdinand are willing to give it a try.”

Pierfrancesco paused for a moment and then continued:

“We don’t know too much about Columbus. He is from Genoa, grew up there and is a seaman. Later he moved to Portugal and became a mapmaker. He also sailed on some expeditions along the African coast under the flag of the Portuguese King.

Now Columbus lives in Seville and is leading discussions with the Spanish monarchs and their Royal Council.”

Pierfrancesco’s voice became more serious and he continued:

“I need you to go the Seville and scope out the situation. Every week I want you to write me a letter with a detailed report on the developments there. I want to know everything, the big picture and the smallest details.”

Amerigo nodded. He wanted to ask a question, yet Pierfrancesco continued:

Pierfrancesco: “I often get asked, what is more important, the big picture or the small details? I always answer that both are important, because sometimes the smallest detail can change the big picture.

The greatest masters can appreciate both the big picture and the small details.

For example, consider Botticelli’s painting Primavera. The one that is hanging downstairs. Did you know that that painting has over two hundred different types of plants and flowers in the background? Two hundred different types. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine the detailed work it took for Botticelli to create such a masterpiece.

I suggest, that on your way out, you take a good look at that painting to appreciate the scale and detail of Botticelli’s work.

Well, anyways, back to Columbus. He is the guy you need to get close to! You know your assignment now! You will depart in about a month.

We will certainly discuss it more, but you can already start getting your affairs in order for the trip.”

He paused for a moment and then continued:

“Ok, I have to meet up with Giovanni now.

Oh yeah. Hope you had fun at your first La Grande Festa.”

Saying this Pierfrancesco got up and left the room.

Amerigo sat there for a moment. He was feeling somewhat overwhelmed. These were some big news, moving to Seville for a year, in just a month.

He tried to think what it meant “getting your affairs in order for the trip”. Surely there would be a lot to do before moving to another city. Was one month enough? It would probably be a stressful month.

He then remembered that at sunset he was planning to meet with the young artist Torrigiano. Amerigo got up and walked downstairs. He did not look at Botticelli’s Primavera and just exited the Villa. He mounted his horse and started riding back into the City.

Chapter 8. Amerigo meets Torrigiano

It was little past sunset when Amerigo arrived at the Inn. When he walked in, he noticed that the place was fairly busy. He started scanning the sitting area and noticed a young man sitting by himself at one of the tables in the back. The man had a very upright posture, as if sitting in attention. Amerigo recognized the man’s posture from La Grande Festa and walked up to the table.

Amerigo gazed the youth in the eyes and said:

Amerigo: “I am glad that you came!”

Torrigiano had long, brown, curly hair and brown eyes. His eyes were deeply-set and his eyebrows were very large.

Torrigiano scanned Amerigo from top to bottom and replied: “Sure!”

Amerigo sat down at the table and said:

Amerigo: “They say you are one of the best from-memory-painters at the Medici Academy.”

Torrigiano replied: “The best!”

Amerigo was surprised by the confident answer. He then continued:

Amerigo: “I have a commission for you.

But it is an unusual commission. I need you to paint a portrait of a canon at Santa Maria Del Fiore. Well he is my uncle. But you will see him only once, maybe twice. So you have to capture it all in your memory and draw from memory. Can you do that?”

Torrigiano replied: “I can try my best.”

Amerigo’s face expressed some satisfaction and he continued:

Amerigo: “Also I want the portrait to look as gracious as Master Botticelli’s portraits. Have you seen many of his portraits?”

Torrigiano replied: “Of course. That is all he talks about in his class.”

Amerigo replied:

Amerigo: “Great! I want it to look very similar to Master Botticelli’s portraits. I think it is always worth aspiring to the Master’s greatness.

Furthermore, the canon does not know about the portrait, as it will be a surprise. We will visit him and converse with him. Which is when you will memorize his likeness.

And lastly, I need you to leave the portrait unsigned. Don’t ask why!”

Torrigiano replied with a smile: “Are we running a forgery scheme here?”

He paused for a moment and then continued: “Just kidding. I really don’t care, as long as you pay me!”

Then Torrigiano started knitting his eyebrows, apparently thinking about something. After a moment he said:

Torrigiano: “It will cost you fifty gold Florins and my art is not negotiable. Also I need half of it upfront.”

Amerigo was shocked by the price and became pensive. But after a moment he replied:

Amerigo: “Fine! But you better deliver some quality for that price! I also need it as soon as possible.”

Torrigiano held out his hand and Amerigo shook it. Amerigo was surprised by the size and strength of Torrigiano’s powerful hand.

After the handshake Amerigo continued: “Tomorrow we will visit my uncle, and then I will give you the twenty-five gold Florins.”

Torrigiano nodded.

Chapter 9. Michelangelo at Santa Maria del Carmine

After La Grande Festa Michelangelo had returned to his family home in Arezzo. He had proudly shown his new medallion to his father.

His father had embraced him with a smile but had replied, that his true potential is not captured in the awards he receives but in the works he creates. Then his father had added, that if anything, awards could lead to more complacency.

Somehow Michelangelo was motivated by these words. On Friday morning he was one of the first to arrive at the Basilica Santa Maria del Carmine. The Medici Academy class had been assigned to study and copy the beautiful frescoes by the late Master Masaccio. These frescos decorated the Brancacci Chapel at the Basilica Santa Maria del Carmine.

The students were free to choose which fresco they wanted to copy. Michelangelo had chosen the fresco depicting St. Peter healing the sick with his shadow.

It was Michelangelo’s favorite fresco at the chapel.

Michelangelo liked the fresco for its revolutionary use of perspective and the extensive chiaroscuro. He also like the realism in the images of the sick. He sat on the floor and was consumed by his work. He occasionally looked up towards the fresco, which was on the lower left side of the chapel.

As time passed many other students arrived.

One of the students was Torrigiano. Torrigiano looked tired. When Torrigiano arrived, he laid out his instruments in the middle of the chapel and began looking at the fresco decorating the upper right wall of the chapel. The fresco was called St. Peter and the Tribute Money.

He stood there staring at the fresco for several minutes. After looking at the fresco for about fifteen minutes, he began setting up his stand. Then he started looking at the fresco again while moving around and turning his head.

Eventually he began working on the background of his painting.

Michelangelo had made significant progress with his work and one could already recognize the buildings and the sick men in front. To clear his mind, Michelangelo decided to take a break, got up and started walking around the chapel. He began closely examining the other frescos of the chapel and one could see the fascination on his face.

When he was walking along the middle of the chapel, he looked at Torrigiano’s work. Michelangelo stopped and said:

Michelangelo: “I wouldn’t start from that side. It will distort the composition.”

Torrigiano’s face showed annoyance and he replied:

Torrigiano: “You think you know everything better hmm?”

Michelangelo replied:

Michelangelo: “I am just making a suggestion that will make your work easier. Let me show you what I mean.”

Suddenly, Michelangelo heard a crackling noise and felt a sharp pain spread along his face. An odd pressure gripped his forehead and he became momentarily disoriented. He fell down and blood started rushing out of his nose.

Torrigiano had punched Michelangelo in the face and his nose was completely crushed.

Michelangelo laid on the floor of the chapel in excruciating pain, unable to fully realize what had happened. His robe was completely bloody. Blood was still gushing out of his nose. After a moment Michelangelo fainted.

Chapter 10. Machiavelli Visits Home

Niccolo Machiavelli had decided to visit his father Bernardo after having heard that his father’s health had worsened again. He was not sure what to expect from the visit. The last time him and his father had parted, they had an argument. His father had become increasingly irritable and difficult to interact with.

When Niccolo arrived at his childhood home, he noticed that the door was ajar. He walked in and was surprised to see the place in complete disarray.

Some of the storage chests were open and many items were spread on the floor throughout the room. Moments after he had entered the house, his sister Margherita walked up from one of the back chambers. She looked at Niccolo and with a trembling voice said:

Margherita: “Niccolo, so glad that you came. The debt collectors were here again. Those evil, blood sucking creatures.”

Niccolo walked forward and embraced his sister. He noticed that she was shaking. He tried to calm her by holding her and stroking her back. Then he asked with a firm voice:

Niccolo: “Where is father?”

Margherita replied:

Margherita: “He left not too long ago and did not say where to. The collectors said that if we cannot make the next payment, they will come back and take something that is more valuable and break father’s fingers. I am scared!”

Niccolo replied with an angry voice:

Niccolo: “Those damn Medici bankers. What a corrupt bunch, sucking out the livelihood of helpless people. How can they do that? How can they live like that?”

He then looked at his sister and continued with a more reassuring voice:

Niccolo: “Don’t worry Margha, I will take care of it. I will take care of everything.”

Then he looked around the room for a moment and said:

Niccolo: ”I have to go now. I will return later. Don’t worry Margha, everything will be fine.

Niccolo walked out of the house and started walking towards his living chamber. His face expression was intense. While walking along the road he was staring down many passersby on the street, as if wanting to find a culprit.

He saw two young men walking in his direction. Both men wore large-brimmed red hats and blue tunics. They were engaged in a conversation. He continued to follow his path that was partially on a collision course with the two men. He did not intend to divert from his path. When they came closer and were passing him, his shoulder bumped one of the men.

Niccolo yelled:

Niccolo: “Watch where you are going!”

The men were surprised. Without looking at him they continued walking.

When Niccolo arrived in his chamber, he walked directly to the corner of the room and moved one of the stands. Behind it was a metal chest. He opened the chest.

There it was, thirty gold florins, his entire savings. He looked at it for a while. He started counting the money, while wondering if it would be enough to make the debt payment. Most likely not but anything would help his father. He then grabbed the money and walked out of the chamber.

Chapter 11. Amerigo’s Dilemma

The word of Torrigiano’s and Michelangelo’s altercation had spread throughout Palazzo Medici. Torrigiano had broken Michelangelo’s nose. Amerigo had heard that Il Magnifico was furious and was considering banishing Torrigiano from Florence or even punishing him more severely.

Worst of all Torrigiano was nowhere to be found. Some said that he was hiding outside of the city’s gates to avoid punishment. So Amerigo was back at zero again, without a painter, who could replicate his uncle’s missing portrait.

Amerigo had considered enlisting Pierfrancesco’s help to plead leniency for Torrigiano’s punishment, so that Torrigiano could complete the portrait.

But the idea seemed challenging, considering that Il Magnifico loved Michelangelo as a son, and Amerigo was already in bad standing with Il Magnifico.

Amerigo was not sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if he should risk bringing it up to Il Magnifico.

So to clear his head, Amerigo left the office early to visit the gambling house on Via Larga. Amerigo liked to gamble when he wanted to clear his head and often frequented that place.

When he arrived at the gambling house, many of the regulars greeted him. Two young ladies approached him and briefly embraced Amerigo.

The gambling house was full of people and very noisy. Several players sat around five tables and played card games. Amerigo liked to play Bacalacci, a card game he was fairly good at.

He sat down at the table on the far right and scanned all the players. At the table on the far right sat five men, an elderly man with gray hair, a stout gentleman with a reddish face, a youthful man with short, curly hair, a middle-aged man with an odd blueish hat and a broad-shouldered gentleman wearing a purple cloak.

When Amerigo sat down the stout gentleman greeted him with a nod and said with a smile: “I will not take it easy on you. You better be ready to play!”

The man had a large stack of coins in front of him.

Amerigo replied: “I don’t like it easy!”

He took out his coin purse and spread the money in front of him.

The dealer shuffled the cards and they started playing.

Chapter 12. Palazzo Soderini

Piero Soderini always had a serious face expression. Some said he never smiled. He had gray hair and dark eyes. His long, sharp nose gave his face an almost vulture like look. He usually wore a black robe and a black hat.

The Soderini were a noble Florentine family. For many generations the Soderini family had controlled the medical trade in Florence. But early in his life Piero Soderini had decided that his true passion was in political affairs.

He was a wise man and at the age of forty-one had lots of diplomatic experience. He was especially experienced in political and administrative roles in Florence, having served in many positions in the Florentine Signoria, the city’s elder’s council.

He had summoned his older brother Paolo, to discuss some recent political developments in Florence.

Both Paolo and Piero had studied at the Florentine Academy, founded by Cosimo de Medici.

The Florentine Academy had been subsequently reformed by Il Magnifico and rebranded as the Medici Academy.

Paolo and Piero had studied with the influential scholar and humanist-philosopher Marsilio Ficino.

Piero Soderini was a big admirer of Plato’s works and had read them extensively, after they had been translated into Latin by his Master Ficino.

Piero sat on a large, red armchair in the middle of his grand study. The study was sparsely decorated, but had several, large shelves full of books.

His older brother Paolo had just arrived.

After greeting his brother, Piero said:

Piero: “The Medici are asking me to head a delegation to the French Court. What do you think? It could be an interesting opportunity to make some connections there. Do you want to come along?”

Paolo Soderini was a man of tall stature. Paolo had black hair and rough facial features. He usually wore a black robe with an embroidered blue cross on it. He was an able statesman and jurist, and had traveled extensively in his younger years. While sitting down across from his brother, Paolo replied:

Paolo: “I think it is better if I stay here and gather some local support. Have you seen what is happening with that Dominican friar at San Marco? He has a significant following. These people really believe in him.”

Piero became pensive and then replied:

Piero: “Well, as always, the crowd is easily manipulated. But you are right, maybe you should follow these developments here. We can use any support we can get.”

Paolo nodded and replied:

Paolo: “I think it would take more than one trip to Paris to make the right connections there. Above all you should try to get close to the French Cardinals. I have heard that they have the attention of the young King.”

Piero became pensive again and then replied:

Piero: “You are right! Maybe young Francesco can be useful in that regard. After all he has studied with many French clergymen in Avignon. He probably is still in touch with many of them.

Piero paused for a moment and then continued with a sigh:

Piero: “Oh dear brother, I don’t have the same energy anymore that I used to have. Maybe I need an energetic assistant to go with me to Paris. Someone who can help me with some organizational matters. But I need someone intelligent and trustworthy, which is so difficult to find nowadays. The entire town is infested with Medici cronies and spies. What a great democracy we have. ”

Paolo replied:

Paolo: You have enough energy brother. Don’t worry. But I will be on the lookout.

Paolo paused for a moment and then continued:

Paolo: “Also I will be meeting with Amerigo Vespucci tomorrow. For some reason he wants to ask some questions about Spain. It should be interesting talking to that Medici runner. Let’s see what information I can get out of him. He is always so easily aroused.

Anyways, I wish I could stay longer but I need to leave now.

Just make sure when you are at the French Court, take the time to communicate with everyone around the King. If we want the Kings support with need to have a strong power base there and supportive allies we can rely on.

Remember what Master Ficino used to say, most interpersonal problems arise from misunderstandings and most misunderstandings arise from lack of communication. So take the time to communicate.”

Saying this Paolo got up and left the study.

Chapter 13. The Gambling House

Amerigo had been gambling for about four hours. He had amassed a large stack of coins. Several of the players had left the table after losing their money. Now there were only three players left at the table, Amerigo, the stout gentleman with a reddish face, and the young man with curly hair. The stout gentleman had lost most of his stack and was barely surviving. The young man had a comfortable stack in front of him but Amerigo had by far the largest position on the table.

On the next hand the stout gentleman decided to take a risk and made a big bet, Amerigo folded, but the young man called the bet. As the cards turned up, it was clear that the stout man had lost.

The stout man shook his head. He got up, shook the hands of the other two players and said: “Well played gentleman. Maybe I will have more luck tomorrow.”

The stout man walked away.

Now Amerigo had only one opponent left. He was feeling comfortable with the challenge. He was by far the bigger stack and also seemed more experience than his opponent, who sometimes showed nervousness in his moves.

The young man was also playing very slowly, so Amerigo thought that he could bully him with his big position.

The dealer dealt the next hand. Amerigo got two tens. Amerigo made a sizable bet. It was not too big to scare his opponent but big enough to lure him in for a nice gain.

After some hesitation the young man pushed all his coins into the middle of the table by betting it all.

Amerigo was surprise. It was a courageous move, a move that he did not expect this soon. Amerigo attempted to understand what his opponent was doing.

Was he trying to test him? Obviously Amerigo had a large stack and could easily call. Was it a desperation move?

If Amerigo called and won this hand, the game would be over. But if he lost the hand, he would sacrifice his dominant position. It was still early in this contest and he did not have a strong hand, so Amerigo decided to be patient and fold.

The dealer dealt the next hand and Amerigo tried to hide his excitement as he got three kings.

The young man made a small bet. Amerigo increased the bet by a significant amount hoping to lure him in again.

The young man again pushed all his coins into the middle of the table. Amerigo was perplexed. Was his opponent ready to leave and wanted to end it quickly?

Amerigo had a very strong hand and knew that he could easily call the bet, and even if losing this hand, he could continue the game comfortably. So he quickly called the big bet.

As the cards opened up, Amerigo saw that his opponent had three queens and two sixes. Amerigo had lost. And now the two opponents’ positions were somewhat equal.

On the next hand Amerigo got two jacks. He made a very small bet.

His opponent hesitated again for a moment and again pushed all his coins into the middle of the table.

Amerigo was perplexed again. Obviously his opponent knew what he was doing. Amerigo thought for a moment and decided to fold.

The dealer dealt the next hand and Amerigo got three tens and two jacks. He tried to hide his enthusiasm and was looking forward to revenge. His opponent made a sizable bet. Amerigo waited for a moment pretending to contemplate. After some time he raised by a significant amount.

The young man hesitated initially. Then after a moment he again pushed all his coins into the middle, by betting it all.

Amerigo was beyond perplexed. Was his opponent playing seriously or just being reckless. Four times in a row going “all-in” seemed beyond excessive. Was this a bluff?

Amerigo began thinking if he should call it or not. He had just enough coins to call the bet. Given the strong hand he had, maybe it was worth the risk.

Niccolo Machiavelli was nervous. Although he had a good hand there was a lot on the line. More specifically his entire life savings were on the line. Granted he was just twenty three, but he had worked so hard to save those initial thirty gold florins, which by now had more than tripled.

It had been a long game. He couldn’t believe that he had survived for this long. For several hours Niccolo had been playing slowly to remain in the game.

But early on, he had realized that the gentleman with the slender body and dark hair was the best player on the table. Therefore, Niccolo had studied him very carefully throughout the game, while only playing small hands. This older gentleman seemed also more experienced than him. So in the end it would take an unusual strategy to beat him.

Niccolo had now survived three all-in calls, but he knew that sooner or later this tactic would play itself out unfavorably.

On the last hand he had almost overextended himself by bluffing to maintain his strategy, but was lucky that his opponent had not called the bluff.

But on this bet Niccolo had a strong hand and good chances of winning. So he had to take the chance.

He was still very nervous not knowing what his opponent had. His nerves were on the brink and his right knee was shaking. His hearth was beating profusely. Niccolo was trying his best to hide his nervousness.

His opponent was still contemplating, while looking directly at him trying to read his emotions.

Then after a while his opponent said: “You are a gutsy young man.”

Niccolo could barely breathe. He did not reply.

After a moment his opponent called the bet. Niccolo’s anticipation grew. Soon he would find out if he would walk away with almost two hundred gold florins or nothing.

He showed his four sixes.

His opponent looked overwhelmed and opened his hand showing three tens and two jacks. A sense of relieve overcame Niccolo.

He could not help but to jump up from his seat. He felt a sudden rush going through his body. This burst of energy made him momentarily feel much more awake.

His opponent was bewildered and somewhat angry. But after a moment a smile came over his opponents face and he said:

Amerigo: “You are a gutsy young man! I like that! I want to buy you a drink. Join me. I would like to get to know you better.”

Niccolo was surprised by the offer but also intrigued by the man’s friendliness.

He replied: “Sure. Why not!”

He collected the two hundred gold florins from the table and put them into his purse.

Both man got up and left the gambling house together.

Chapter 14: Michelangelo in Despair

The pain and the swelling had subsided, yet Michelangelo barely ever left his room. He spent most of his days in bed. He did not eat much, he did not paint much, he did not sculpt much. He showed very little interest in anything. His nose was completely disfigured and the doctors had said that it would remain disfigured forever. The word forever had felt like a crushing blow.

Most days Michelangelo usually laid in bed staring at the ceiling, not very responsive to visitors. Some mornings Piolo, the family dog, would come in with its tail wagging. But Michelangelo usually looked at the dog with his sad and expressionless eyes. He did not show any reaction. So Piolo would then turn around and leave the room again.

The few times Michelangelo had looked in a mirror, his dark eyes had become even sadder and tears had begun rolling down his face.

He thought that his nose looked disgusting. He wanted his old face back.

Some nights he had nightmares and would wake up in the middle of the night unable to fall asleep again.

His father had tried to console him, telling him, that in the bigger picture all of it did not matter much and that there was so much more to life. Yet his father’s words sounded empty and were not too helpful.

One day his father came in and announced that Pietro Bembo was there and wanted to see him. Michelangelo barely showed a reaction to the announcement.

Shortly after, Pietro Bembo walked in. He had a lute in his hand and was wearing a long, green robe.

Pietro said with an enthusiastic voice:

Pietro: “There you are little soldier! I have been looking for you.”

Michelangelo looked briefly towards the door and replied:

Michelangelo: “What do you want?”

Pietro replied:

Pietro: “I want to play a song for you. You will like this song.”

Michelangelo said with an emotionless voice:

Michelangelo: “I don’t care for any songs right now.”

Pietro paused for a moment. He put his lute on the small table in the corner and walked up towards Michelangelo’s bed. He then said:

Pietro: “Michelangelo, you can’t hide here forever. You have to get out there. You have to do stuff, paint, sculpt, laugh. Above all laugh. Don’t let life pass you by.”

Michelangelo replied:

Michelangelo: “Why not? What is there left to pass me by?”

Pietro replied:

Pietro: “Hope my friend, hope! That is all we have. Faith in the future. You can’t lose that. Hold on to it. Hold on to the future. The Almighty knows your path.

Do you know how many students at the Medici Academy would kill for your talents? You have a gift my friend. You were touched by the Almighty. Don’t let that gift become wasted.”

Michelangelo angrily replied:

Michelangelo: “Become wasted? I did not want this gift! I did not ask for it!”

And by pointing at his disfigured face Michelangelo continued:

Michelangelo: “Look what this gift has gotten me. Look!

Who is there to tell me if I should or should not waste this gift? I don’t owe anything to anyone!”

Chapter 14B: Il Magnifico in Rage

Il Magnifico was still furious about Torrigiano’s and Michelangelo’s altercation. He was leaning towards the harshest punishment for Torrigiano.

Il Magnifico had summoned Pierfrancesco, Pico Della Mirandola and his son Piero to discuss the situation.

Piero had received word from Pietro Bembo about Michelangelo’s despair. He was describing it to the other parties.

Piero: “They say he doesn’t want to do anything. He doesn’t paint. He doesn’t sculpt. Most days he does not even leave his bed. He told Pietro Bembo that he will never paint or sculpt again.”

Il Magnifico replied in rage.

Il Magnifico: “This is unacceptable! I cannot believe that in our beloved city people can harm my geniuses. What should we do? We need to get the Signoria involved. If Torrigiano does not pay a big price, it will serve as an example for others and there will be more similar incidents.

Il Magnifico added.

Il Magnifico: “We need to have Torrigiano publicly hanged to set an example.”

Piero replied.

Piero: “But father the Signoria will never agree hanging someone for a fistfight. That would be unprecedented. Especially the Soderini will oppose it. They only have their own games in mind. That is the price of our democracy.”

Pierfrancesco interceded.

Pierfrancesco: “What if we asked the Signoria to pass a new bill, The Genius Protection Act? The bill will protect all geniuses from any intentional harm and hence many more are likely to resonate with it.”

Pico replied:

Pico: “But how would that work? How will they determine who is a genius?”

Pierfrancesco replied.

Pierfrancesco: “Surely these details can be resolved. And even if someone who is not a genius gets some protection from intentional harm that would be fine. We have to consider the big picture. Protecting a single genius is so valuable to our city that these side costs are acceptable. The deterring effect would be most useful.”

Pico squinted his eyes for a moment and replied.

Pico: “But what if it had the opposite effect and base mobs of criminals targeted geniuses even more? One never knows how people react to these new bills. In mobs people act like children or more like sheep.”

Pierfrancesco replied.

Pierfrancesco: “We have to experiment with it. We just have to make the punishment harsh enough, maybe public hanging or public burning. Philosophically it is comparable to our special bill for protecting holy friars. Geniuses after all were touched and gifted by the Almighty. So why not?”

Il Magnifico replied.

Il Magnifico: “I like the idea of Genius Protection Act. Public hanging can be the default punishment for any intentional harm against a genius. But we have to act quickly. I don’t want the news of this incident to create turmoil on the peninsula. And how can we get Michelangelo working again? I can’t believe they harmed my little jewel.”

Pico replied:

Pico: “I will talk to Father Savanarolla. Maybe if he has a discussion with Michelangelo, he can convince him that this is just a week when decades happen, yet the picture is bright and Michelangelo is part of Almighty's chosen path.”

Il Magnifico nodded and said.

Il Magnifico: “Give it a try! We have to try anything to get Michelangelo working again. I was hoping he would work on the new alter at San Lorenzo.”

Pierfrancesco added.

Pierfrancesco: “More importantly we have to get that bill drafted. I have heard of similar incidents at the D’Este court. Envy is always the price of genius. If we want Florence to continue flourishing, we have to protect all our geniuses at any cost from any harm.”

After a moment Pico added.

Pico: “Also we still don’t know where Torrigiano is. Our search has been unsuccessful so far. Some say he has made his way to Rome. But we will find him.”

Il Magnifico replied angrily.

Il Magnifico: “Piero, assign more guards to the task. We cannot let this get out of control. We have to hunt him down even if he makes his way to Spain, ideally prior.”

Chapter 15: In Milan They Say

After a short visit to Venice, Isabella D’Este had just arrived in Milan. She was exhausted from a prolonged journey, which had taken her from Florence, to Ferrara, to Mantua, to Venice and now Milan. On her journey from Venice to Milan a young apprentice, of Master Giovanni Bellini’s workshop, had accompanied her.

This young aspiring artist’s name was Giorgio Castelfranco. But in Venice many called him endearingly “Little Giorgio”, as he was only thirteen. The venetian masters spoke highly of Little Giorgio and ardently praised his nascent talents. So Isabella wanted to nurture the promising youth and guide him along his artistic journey. Therefore she had brought along Giorgio to Milan to introduce him to the vibrant Milanese Court and to Master Leonardo Da Vinci.

As the pair was walking through the main hallway of the Castelo Sforzesco towards the theater chambers, Isabella could notice a significant difference in the decorations. There seemed to be an abundance of pastel colors that were not there before.

At the end of the hallway the pair entered the theater chamber of the Castelo, where Beatrice D’Este was inspecting the props being constructed for an upcoming pageant. When Isabella entered, one of the servants announced her arrival and Beatrice looked up. Her eyes expressed a faint surprise and a large smile became visible on her face. She approached Isabella, embraced her warmly and said:

Beatrice: “Dear Sister! Welcome!

How was Venice? How is Francesco? Did you get to speak to the Doge?”

Isabella replied:

Isabella: “Ahhh! There is nothing but arrogance in that city. The Doge was not very receptive to the idea. He barely spent any time talking about it.

And Francesco is doing fine. He is getting ready to lead an expedition to the Dalmatian coast against the Turkish invasion. The troops are gathered on the Lido and will embark in three days.

I pray every day that he will return safely.”

Beatrice replied:

Beatrice: “I am certain he will. The Almighty is on our side against the brutish infidels. There is nothing to worry about.”

Isabella continued:

Isabella: “I am not surprised that the Sultan has decided to attack Venice again. The arrogance that the Doge displays is unbearable. He thinks that Venice is some kind of a chosen place, but they were just lucky because of the spice-trade routes.”

Beatrice nodded. She then looked at Giorgio and while briefly stroking Giorgio’s curly, black hair, said:

Beatrice: “Who is this handsome young man?”

Giorgio had been enchanted by the commotions in the theater chamber and was looking at the workers, who were constructing some kind of a scaffolding in the back of the stage. They all wore such colorful attire. He hadn’t paid much attention to the conversation between the sisters, but had overheard something about the Turks. Lately it seemed as if everyone was talking about the Turks.

Giorgio tried to straighten his hair again and looked towards Isabella.

Isabella replied:

Isabella: “This is Little Giorgio. He is a splendid young painter. I want him to meet Master Leonardo”

While saying this, Isabella also briefly stroked Giorgio’s curly hair.

Master Leonardo’s name suddenly captured Giorgio’s attention and an excitement became visible on his face.

Beatrice replied:

Beatrice: “Master Leonardo has not been at the Castelo for several days, although I could use his help with the stage mechanisms. He is at the Corte Vecchia. They say he hasn’t left his studio lately.”

Hearing this Giorgio’s face showed signs of youthful disappointment.

Beatrice continued:

Beatrice: “You should stay here tonight and tomorrow you can visit Corte Vecchia.

She paused for a moment than said in a quiet tone:

Beatrice: “I have heard that the Doge has asked the Pope for military assistance against the Turkish invasion, but the Pope has refused him. Is it true?”

Isabella replied:

Isabella: “Yes it is. And most likely Il Magnifico’s hand was involved in it. He dissuaded the Pope from helping Venice.

He doesn’t want Venice to become too powerful. The Turkish invasion is a blessing for Il Magnifico.

Balance of Power he calls it!

So that no single Italian state becomes too powerful to offset the status quo.”

Beatrice’s face became pensive and she replied:

Beatrice: “I wonder what the Dalmatian coast inhabitants, who are now fearing for their lives, think of Balance of Power.”

Chapter 16: At Corte Vecchia

Giorgio and Isabella had arrived at Corte Vecchia on the east side of the city. One of the servants notified them that Master Leonardo was in the garden. The servant led them through the main atrium, out one of the gates, into the garden. They started walking alongside several rows of bushes.

Giorgio was getting increasingly excited to meet the legendary man of whom he had heard so much. People in Venice said that Master Leonardo had the most graceful appearance and manners. Giorgio had been imagining this moment for many years. During the entire journey from Venice to Milan, he had thought of this meeting and had visualized the encounter with Master Leonardo.

As he was following the servant and Isabella, he was eagerly looking into the distance trying to spot anyone in the garden.

Suddenly, he noticed a person not too far along their route. It was a man wearing a golden and blue, striped tunic. The man held a bucket in his right hand.

There is Master Leonardo, Giorgio thought. He became excited and started thinking how he should greet him.

He looked just as he had imagined him, Giorgio thought. Giorgio couldn’t believe he was going to talk to Master Leonardo. Leonardo looked somewhat tired, Giorgio thought. He probably had just finished an intense painting session.

When the party came closer, Isabella walked pass the man barely paying any attention to him.

So that was not Master Leonardo, Giorgio thought. He started scanning the garden again.

Shortly after he noticed a person standing in the distance. It was a man wearing a rose-colored tunic. He began observing this man from the distance while walking. As the group came closer he could recognize a middle aged man with long, curly hair. Giorgio’s excitement increased more and more. His mind began racing. Was this really Master Leonardo himself? Soon he would find out.

But as they were just several steps away, he noticed that the man was looking down at two squirrels in front of him and seemed to be talking to them. Strange, Giorgio thought, this must be the gardener at Corte Vecchia.

Giorgio’s gaze began scanning the surrounding again to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity. Suddenly, he saw another man farther back, on the left, walking towards them. In the distance he could only make out a man wearing a long, red robe. This must be Master Leonardo, he thought. How graceful the man walked. He began observing the man in the red robe, while trying to decipher from the distance what he looked like.

While only few steps away from the man in the rose-colored tunic, Isabella exclaimed:

Isabella: “Maestro! So great to see you.”

The man in the rose-colored tunic turned and looked towards Isabella. His face became jovial. Yet he replied with a faint voice:

“Not so loud. You will scare the squirrels.”

Isabella looked confused by the reply.

Giorgio was also initially confused. Yet he realized that the man in the rose-colored tunic who was talking to the squirrels was Master Leonardo. Inadvertently, he began staring directly at Leonardo. Was this how he had imagined him? He wasn’t sure. The man had a mysterious aura about him.

But what was with the squirrels, he thought.

Giorgio’s gaze was fully fixated on Leonardo. Giorgio’s gaze was scanning up and down, while closely observing every detail about this mysterious man.

Leonardo had a slender, yet muscular body. He had long, curly, light-brown hair and warm brown eyes. His rose-colored tunic came down only to his knees and his calves were exposed. This seemed somewhat odd, Giorgio thought.

A little red notebook, tied to a string, hung from Leonardo’s bright green belt. He also wore bright green sandals, which seemed fairly worn out.

Isabella replied with a questioning voice:

Isabella: “Scare the squirrels?”

Leonardo spoke again with a faint voice:

Leonardo: “ I have been feeding these little guys some walnuts for some days now, around noon. And now they appear every day at noon and wait for me. Isn’t it fascinating? How can they tell the time so well?

Look, when they eat the walnuts, they stand on their back legs and hold the walnuts with their front legs next to their mouths. Just as we humans do.

Isn’t it fascinating?”

Isabella replied with an unemotional voice:

Isabella: “Indeed fascinating!

Maestro, I have brought you that Algebra book you had asked for. They only had three copies left in Venice.”

A smile appeared on Leonardo’s face and he cordially nodded.

Leonardo continued:

Leonardo: “The one on the left I call Ciro and the other one Pepe.

Ciro seems to be more daring and courageous than Pepe. I wonder why.”

After a while the two squirrels began hopping away and started spiraling around the trunk of a chestnut tree, while ascending up.

Isabella continued:

Isabella: “Maestro, I would like you to meet someone. This is Little Giorgio. He is a talented young painter from Venice.”

Giorgio’s face blushed momentarily. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. He was going to talk to Master Leonardo himself. If only the other apprentices at the workshop found out about this. They would all be so envious. He tried to think what to do and what to say.

Eventually he stepped forward a bit, his bright, brown eyes lit up and he said:

Giorgio: “I am a big fan of your painting style Master Leonardo. When I grow up, I want to paint just like you.”

Leonardo replied:

Leonardo: “Ahh. Great! How old are you?

Giorgio quickly replied:

Giorgio: “Thirteen, but I will be fourteen in two months.”

Leonardo replied:

Leonardo: “Don’t be in a rush to grow up. Enjoy the wonders of childhood. If you can maintain that inner child, it will help you with your painting as well.”

Then Leonardo paused for a moment and continued:

Leonardo: “I was around your age when I first moved from Vinci to Florence. I still remember those years so vividly. How wondrous the world seemed.”

Giorgio’s face became jovial and he said:

Giorgio: “Can I ask you one question Maestro?”

Leonardo replied:

Leonardo: “You can ask more than one question.”

Giorgio’s face became pensive and after a moment he said:

Giorgio: “What is art?”

A smile appeared on Leonardo’s face and he cheerfully replied:

Leonardo: “You are starting with the easiest question first.

I don’t know if I can give you a good answer but I can tell you this.

You have to first find out what art is for you. At times art can be something different for the creator than for the consumer.

One day when you find out what it is for you, come and ask again, and I will tell you what it is for me.”

Giorgio’s face became pensive again and after a while he said:

Giorgio: “I have another question. Will one really go to heaven if one drinks lots of Indulgence Water?”

Leonardo laughed aloud.

At that moment Isabella interrupted the conversation and exclaimed.

Isabella: “Master Bramante, so glad to see you.”

Giorgio looked to the side and realized that the red robed man, whom he had noticed earlier in the distance, had approached the group.

Master Bramante was the chief architect of the Milanese Court.

He had arrived in Milan almost eighteen years ago. Now it all seemed an eternity away, when he had left his beloved hometown of Urbino.

Master Bramante had arrived in Milan shortly after he had turned thirty.

Just two years after his arrival in Milan when he was thirty-two, he had experienced the assassination of his patron, of the last Duke of Milan, Galeazzo Maria Sforza.

After the ensuing upheaval following the assassination, the late Duke’s brother Ludovico Sforza had taken over as Regent of Milan for the late Duke’s infant son, Gian Galeazzo Sforza.

Regent Ludovico Sforza, whom most in Milan called Il Moro, because of his moorish complexion, had been receptive of Master Bramante’s ideas to reinvent Milan’s old gothic architecture.

Hence shortly after Il Moro had assumed regency, Bramante had embarked on an ambitious quest to introduce his “new antique” style to Milan. He had re-designed many churches and palazzos in Milan.

After many years in Milan during which he had left his distinct mark on the city, Master Bramante was highly respected and beloved by Il Moro.

Master Bramante was forty-seven now. He had curly brown hair and a receding hairline with few bold spots, which he wore with pride.

Bramante replied:

Bramante: “Dear Princess, so glad that you can enliven us with your presence.”

Then he turned towards Leonardo and said:

Bramante: “The tower is almost ready. Just a few touch ups left, so it wouldn’t take more than a week.”

Leonardo’s face showed excitement and he said:

Leonardo: “Donino is helping me construct a bird watching tower at the south-side of the garden.”

Isabella’s face became puzzled and she asked:

Isabella: “A bird watching tower?”

Leonardo replied:

Leonardo: “Yes. Every morning at dawn, several flocks of large birds fly across the garden along that side. I wanted to observe them in flight from up close to understand their flight mechanism at work.

It will help me with the design of my flying machine.”

Chapter 17: Dinner with Il Moro

Il Moro: “Eat my prince, eat. A true ruler should know how to celebrate.”

Saying this Il Moro grabbed a large piece of lamb and placed it on Gian Galeazzo Sforza’s plate.

And while refilling the young prince’s glass he continued:

Il Moro: “And quench your thirst with your best wine.”

A servant entered the dining hall and announced that Master Leonardo had arrived.

Leonardo stepped into the dining hall and greeted Il Moro by saying:

Leonardo: “Greetings my wise patron. You had asked to see me?”

Il Moro replied:

Il Moro: “My favorite genius. Yes, I have few questions. Come have a seat with us.”

Il Moro continued:

“Our ambassador said that the Florentine Signoria is discussing a Genius Protection Act. What are your thoughts on it?”

Leonardo was walking towards the table, he stopped, thought for a bit and replied.

Leonardo: “Interesting question! Sounds like something Pierfrancesco would say. It is a very complex question. One has to think about it deeply. But also difficult to implement with the Florentine Democracy.”

Il Moro replied:

Il Moro: “In my Duchy no one can touch my geniuses or they would lose their heads. Everyone knows that.”

…. continued in the full novel!

Disclaimer:

Since I am a dyslexic, I am prone to spelling and grammar mistakes. Hopefully it does not distract from the substance of the novel’s opening.

Thank you for reading this article :)