His Most Hated Enemy: The Encounter
#TheNovel - The Mad Schemers - S1E9
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Episode 1 - Conspiracy, Death, and Executions
Episode 2 - The Miracle That Inaugurated Horrific Times
Episode 3 - You Will All Be Executed Brutally
Episode 4 - An Honorable Man Executed with the Disgrace of the Wretched
Episode 5 - Revealing The Man Behind The Ruler’s Mask
Episode 6 - Chasing The Secrets Behind The Ugly Truth
When Cosimo, Lorenzo's grandfather, took power in 1434, he commissioned the construction of the palace that became his family's primary residence in the following years. He chose a central spot in the city, chaotic, you'd say, for anyone must feel their power.
Lorenzo was slowly folding the paper and putting the quill back, and as he leaned on the chair with a satisfying smirk, he realized that the place had become too quiet. He put the envelope in his pocket and stepped near the window. The chaos was gone; a wild cat basking peacefully in the warmth of that sunny day caught his attention when it suddenly perked up and ran around the corner in fear. At that exact moment, Lorenzo could hear thundering hooves. He turned to his right and saw two war horses preceding a carriage; it was the captain of his army of mercenaries, and Lorenzo was quickly summoned downstairs.
"Sir, we intercepted the papal nuncio," the captain said with a rush. Lorenzo was anxiously calm about hearing what was next. "Where is everyone?" He asked as if that became his main priority. "Sir, the news spread that we are surrounded by armies of the Duke of Urbino and the King of Naples." He responded anxiously. "And, of course, the news of a papal nuncio arriving must have scared your people. Right now, we don't expect an imminent attack," he continued all in one breath, trying to smooth out that news. Lorenzo listened, impassible, with no expression on his face. How is he so sure of no imminent attack, he thought. If he had learned one lesson from the past events, it was that trust is an expensive commodity, and he swore on his dead beloved brother not to trust anyone anymore anytime.
"The papal nuncio wants to meet with you." the captain interrupted a silent Lorenzo caught in his mind's chaotic thoughts. That's when Lorenzo realized that the apparent calm all around would soon burst into a violent, messy war. The nuncio: They are waiting for his order to attack, he thought.
"Sure, where is he? Bring him here." He responded confidently, but you could tell from his face that he was scared. A leader must always know what to do, but he had no idea how to deal with so much power pressing over his small but mighty city. In times like these, he felt poor, for financial power won't be enough to stop armies, he thought.
"No, Sir. Unfortunately, he is not willing to enter Florence. He doesn't feel safe," the captain said softly.
"I am not a monster; I am not like his boss, who claims to have divine power," Lorenzo responded with a smirk of irony on his face. He would always enjoy blaming the Pope for conspiring against his family. He clearly didn't control his words, for anyone could be accused of heresy by simply questioning a Pope's authority.
"I understand, Sir," the captain responded, pretending not to engage further in that conversation. Mercenaries are paid to fight, not to brag about politics. "We organized a meeting in Montecassino, a half-day ride from here."
"Let's go!" Lorenzo responded without much thought, but his gut warned of danger. He turned towards the palace entrance and, with a nod, asked the housemaid to step in with him, away from indiscreet eyes.
"I need you to give this to Poliziano right now. Send someone to call for him," he said as he handed over the envelope he had kept in his pocket. As she grabbed it, Lorenzo touched her hands and said: "I count on you; this is important." He turned, hopped on the carriage, and left.
Just half a day away, but it felt like an infinite sequence of sunset and dawn.
"I don't like what I am seeing," Lorenzo interrupted the silence on that wobbling carriage. All around was quiet; people would soon enter their homes at the sound of a bourse or carriage. Lorenzo's nightmares bounced back; he saw failure in this apparent calm: failure to protect his citizens, failure to save his beloved brother, failure to prevent the conspiracy. And so he started to doubt his leadership abilities, the worst mindset to be in before a tough negotiation with his enemy.
"Sir, our men surrounded them; you are safe." the captain showed some empathy as he saw a man staring blankly in the open space. Lorenzo rested his eyes on him for a few seconds, like a psychopath with a lack of emotions would do. How can you ever trust mercenaries; they go for the highest price, he thought. "I am not worried; the truth will come out," Lorenzo responded confidently after clearing his voice. I'll take him as a prisoner till he releases our ambassador in Rome; no, I'll hear what he has to say and then order his killing. Lorenzo's mind couldn't be at peace; he was too distracted by his rage and bouncing extremes, you'd notice. He came here; he must negotiate, he concluded, for war is no good business for all of us.
As the carriage started to slow down, infantrymen tagged along; they were the captain's army arrived to support the encounter. Lorenzo felt even more powerless around all those mercenaries. Over the years, he had put so much effort into growing his political influence in Italy and Europe; he managed to become the papal trusted treasurer and secure alliances with the powerful Milan and Venice. But it never crossed his mind to build a Florentine army of people loyal to his figure, not his money, for delegating warfare to paid mercenaries was the easiest and cheapest way. How can I trust those people, he thought worryingly. What if they sold their souls to the Pope and are now driving me into a trap? Too late, he realized, but there is only one way to find out.
From afar, Lorenzo could see a group of twenty or thirty soldiers. They stood around a carriage covered with red leather over a bent-wood hooped frame painted in gold and preceded by two tall white horses. That was the pompous manifestation of the power of the Church's leader, who claimed to help the poor and raise the spirit of its devotees. But also of a reckless man, a megalomaniac, who justifies any means to ensure his name lasts forever, for his human side knows that life on Earth is short. The Pope had sent his most trusted Carindal.
"Stop here," the captain ordered the coachman. "We cannot get closer; we don't know their intentions, "the captain continued, looking at Lorenzo for approval. The scene looked controlled: As Lorenzo stepped out of the carriage, he could see one of the papal guards open that golden door, and a man stepped out. He wore a simple dress: a black, long-sleeved cassock buttoned down the front with red buttons and a red cap. He straightened his posture and smoothed out the wrinkles from his sleeves—a sign that he had been sitting too long. And with the confidence of someone untouchable, he signaled the guard to remain still with the palm of his hand. He started to walk towards Lorenzo with measured steps.