The Palace (34 page)

One of the officials smiled at this praise, and was instantly rebuked by
Savonarola. "It is not fitting for you to be pleased. You should strive only to
be pleasing to God. If you take pleasure and pride in this, then I have failed
and you are surely damned to burn forever in the deepest pits of hell."

At last the clerk of la Signoria dared to address the little prior on another
matter. "Reverend Domenicano, though you are not given to think of these
considerations, it is necessary that we have your opinion on what is to be done
with the Franchesi in Italia. Are we to wait here? Are we to welcome them? You
tell us that Charles is a godly man, but if his army is not?" Gradazo Ondante
glanced at the other men uncomfortably. With the full force of the sun on him,
his lucco of dark wool was intolerably hot. He saw that the others were
suffering in the same way, and wished that the small man in the Domenican habit
would show the same human distress.

The oldest of the delegation, a man who had served the Console for many
years, added a few words to Ondante's questions. "We are concerned, Buon Prior,
for the safety and security of this city, of la Repubblica Fiorenzen. It would
be a simple thing for Charles to defeat us with arms, and then we would be
isolated. Siena would not come to our aid then, nor Modena, nor Milano,
certainly. We might be crushed."

Savonarola studied them, his green eyes smoldering. "If you are worried about
your fate in this world, I am filled with shame. This world is nothing. It is
heaven that matters. All else is vanity. You say that you fear we will be
crushed. I tell you that unless there is repentance, reform and acceptance of
what God sends to us, then the heaviest, most utter ruin that might be visited
on us will be too light to make amends for the gravity of our sins."

"But," Gradazo Ondante persisted, "if the state is destroyed, how then do we
serve God? If my life preserves the life of Fiorenza and her citizens, that's
nothing—"

"A prideful boast, Ondante. Remember it when you come to confession."

For the first time Gradazo Ondante found he was out of patience with
Savonarola. "It was not said in pride—"

"God alone knows how it was said. Be sure you confess it, for to question God
is heresy." He looked at the men around him and met their uneasy glances with a
challenge. "Don't attempt to bargain with God as if He were a rival merchant.
That way lies disaster and the

Vengeance of God that waits for all who deny Him and who live their lives in
sin."

One of the Console coughed and tried to motion the others aside, but Ondante
was determined. "All that you tell me may indeed be so, and for it I will suffer
eternally. But for the moment it is my responsibility to help keep la Repubblica
in order, to keep it whole and prosperous. If I don't do that, I have failed in
the task given to me in life, and God admonishes us not to shirk responsibility.
If it is appropriate that we make the first gesture to the Franchesi, then let
us do so now. But if we bring war onto us, then every one of us should be
cursed." He didn't realize how heated his voice had become until one of the
others pulled at his sleeve and murmured a few words to him.

Savonarola had given him a measured glance for the latter part of this
outburst, and he said slowly, "You have given me a great deal to think on. Yes.
I will send for you when I have decided what action should be taken to
discipline you." With a curt nod he dismissed i Priori and stood waiting until
the men had moved away from him.

He was about to join the group of monks waiting to return to San Marco when
he saw a white-habited nun coming toward him. He had seen Suor Merzede,
Superiora of Sacro Infante, perhaps a dozen times in the last four years. He
disliked the serenity of the Celestiana, he found her confidence inappropriate
to her calling. But he refused to let these conflicting feelings trouble him. He
assumed his most forbidding expression and waited until the nun had come and
made a proper reverence to him.

"Greetings in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," Suor
Merzede murmured as she kissed Savonarola's outstretched hand. "I pray you will
hear me out, good Prior."

"Well? What is it?" He knew that this response was far from gracious, and he
hurriedly made the Sign of the Cross as a gesture of amends.

Suor Merzede blinked at this Turkish treatment, but she had long dealt with
monks and knew that their ways were often harsh. She folded her hands into her
sleeves and said, "It has been more than a year since you were last at Sacro
Infante. We've had the care and counsel of Fra Milo, but my Sisters and I long
for your guidance. Many of our charges, too, yearn to hear your prophecy. The
mad and infirm are as much in need of salvation as the prosperous and tranquil
of mind—it may be that they crave your ministration even more in their
loneliness and affliction than others do, who have the benefit of daily recourse
to your teachings."

Savonarola regarded Suor Merzede with suspicion. He moved back a step or two
so that her slightly greater height would not be noticed. As he did so, he
remembered that the nun was one of an ancient and distinguished Pisan family,
and it seemed to him she had lost too little of her aristocratic manner in her
convent. "There is too much for me to do here, Suor Merzede. It is true that all
those in despair deserve the comfort of Scripture. But madness—that may be
otherwise, for madness is often caused by demons."

"Then who but you should cast them out?" Suor Merzede said swiftly. "Blessed
Savonarola, listen to me, if not for the sake of the habit I wear, then for the
sake of the wretches kept at Sacro Infante. Every day our Sisterhood sees the
terrors of hell reflected in the eyes of those we care for. We know what it is
to fight endlessly for the smallest of victories. It is a victory when a simple
man learns to mend a pan. It is a victory when a boy who has done nothing but
stare at the walls for three years asks one morning for a piece of bread. Each
of these little, little triumphs we offer to God in our love. But there is so
much more we could do, and because we are few and our charges are many, those
other triumphs are lost, perhaps eternally. You, good Prior, you could give us
new courage and help us renew our determination to battle for our tiny
successes. And certainly your words will stir the hearts of all who hear them."

As he cast an anxious glance over his shoulder toward his waiting Brothers,
Savonarola said, "It might be possible, Suor Merzede, but not just at present."

Skillfully Suor Merzede concealed her annoyance. "There is another reason I
ask you to come to Sacro Infante."

"Yes?"

At il Palazzo della Signoria, its famous bell, la Vacca, named that for its
mooing tone, began to toll, indicating that the Console had gathered to meet.
Savonarola felt a certain satisfaction in knowing that they were meeting to
discuss what he had said only a few minutes before.

"We have a charge, a certain Donna Estasia della Cittadella, who has been
with us for some time. She would seem to be possessed of the very devils you
mentioned. But of late she has said she would like to confess so that her soul
will be free from sin at last. She has fasted much, and tried to pray, but
declares that until she has received absolution, she cannot hope for
redemption."

Somewhat absently Savonarola nodded, forcing his concentration back to what
Suor Merzede was saying. "Then provide her with a priest."

"She has said," Suor Merzede said, meeting the monk's green eyes evenly,
"that she will confess to no one but you, for it was your exhortation that first
brought her to awareness of her sins. She had declared that if you will not come
to her, she cannot confess."

"It is vain and prideful in her. If she is truly repentant, she will confess
most humbly to anyone who in the function of his office hears confession." He
was about to turn away, but Suor Merzede's next words stopped him.

"That's what we told her, and we brought Fra Milo to her. She promised
obedience to the decision to have him hear her. But as soon as she tried to
speak, devils seized upon her, and she tore her shift from her body and threw
herself with lascivious abandon on the crucifix that stands to the side of our
chapel. Fra Milo was horrified, and when Donna Estasia was restored to her
senses"—she did not mention that this was done with a sharp slap—"she herself
cried out in her suffering, demanding that she be walled up to be an anchorite
where she could harm no one, and would have only herself and the demons for
company."

"Donna Estasia… Donna Estasia…" Savonarola turned the name over in his
memory. "Was she the one who disrupted my sermon, some time ago? The one who
exposed her breasts and tore at them?"

"Yes. She was brought to Sacro Infante that day and has not left since then.
Her cousin Sandro Filipepi comes to see her often, but she despises his company
now, and swears that she doesn't want to talk to him out of shame for what she
has done in his company."

One of the monks approached to find out why Savonarola was being delayed by
the Celestian nun. He was quite near when his prior made an abrupt gesture that
sent the monk scurrying back to his Brothers.

"She says that demons seize her: what then?" He nibbled his lower lip
furtively though his eyes were haughty.

"They impose on her. There is much carnality, much sensuality. But it
terrifies her, and she struggles to escape. She is convinced that if the demons
possess her, your strength and your righteousness must prevail and bring her at
last to salvation." Suor Merzede had seen the flash of interest her mention of
Estasia's complaint had caused, and she could not help but wonder if indeed the
prior was as uncorrupt as everyone claimed. She quickly banished this dreadful
thought from her mind, and sternly ordered herself to beg her bread and water
for a week.

"Always before the demons have prevailed?" Savonarola asked, measuring
something in the distance with his bright eyes.

"Yes. You are her last hope. She insists that if you will not hear her, if
you will not right for her, she will find a way to take her own life to be free
of these terrible visions."

"For that sin she would surely be damned forever to the greatest of
tortures." He said the last word slowly.

"We have told her that, but she insists that if you cannot save her, then she
knows she is damned anyway, and she might as well dispatch her soul to hell
rather than risk contaminating others with her devils." Suor Merzede still
thought that Donna Estasia was being capricious to demand that Savonarola
himself be her confessor, but she had prayed that the beautiful young widow
might be restored, and occasionally allowed herself to hope that once redeemed,
Donna Estasia might desire to be of help to Sacro Infante. It was an unworthy
thought, but she could not banish it.

"If I hear her confession, it will be written and proclaimed in public. The
confession must be complete. No detail overlooked, no shameful act left
unrecorded. If she still wants to confess to me, send me word and I will come
with a secretary. And if this is a hoax, she will pay dearly for her heretical
tamperings." He did not pause to see what effect this announcement would have on
Suor Merzede. With a quick motion he turned and strode away to join his
anxiously waiting Brothers, so that only they saw the strange smile on his
fleshy lips.

Text of a document of commendation issued by the Console of la Signoria:

By the order of i Priori, la Signoria and the Console, I, Gradazo Ondante,
clerk of la Signoria, am mandated to issue notice of thanks and commendation to
il Conte Francesco Ragoczy da San Germano, stragnero, residing in Fiorenza.

For in the unfortunate time of plague which has recently claimed two hundred
thirty-one Fiorenzeni souls, this Ragoczy did, with the assistance of Donna
Demetrice Clarrissa Renata di Benedetto Volandrai, succor the sick and dying
with no regard for his safety or his expenditure. Further, he did, of his own
will and volition, offer to victims of the plague such articles of need as
blankets, other bedding, candles, and foodstuffs, which often he himself
distributed.

For in the time of plague, he compounded or caused to be compounded a
miraculous substance that saved many from the jaws of death, and with that
compound and others, rid many houses of all trace of plague, thus serving not
only the unfortunate victims, but the city at large with his protection.

In acknowledgment of this splendid service and selfless devotion to the good
of Fiorenza, this official commendation is published so that all will know of
Ragoczy's good works and his amazing skills.

Executed by order of i Priori, la Signoria and the Console, this day, August
23, 1494, by my hand.

Gradazo Ondante clerk

Gasparo Tucchio was out of breath by the time he got to the courtyard of
Palazzo San Germano. While he tugged at the bellrope he gulped air, cursing when
he had the energy to do so.

When at last Araldo came to the gate, Gasparo glared at him from under his
heavy brows. "What took you so long?"

Araldo raked a glance over Gasparo in his rough builder's clothes. "Do you
have business with anyone in this palazzo?" He was still too young to carry off
his haughtiness well, and Gasparo lost his temper.

"Do I have business?" he mocked. "Let me tell you, cockerel, that if you
don't bring me to your master at once, it will be the worse for him and the
worse for you. If one of the servants is to throw me out, have it be Ruggiero,
for he has that authority, and you do not!" His big hands clung to the
wrought-iron grille that opened into the courtyard. "I laid the foundation of
this building, puppy. And I'll pull this gate off its hinges if I have to."