An Honorable Man Executed with the Disgrace of the Wretched
#TheNovel - The Mad Schemers - S1E4
Subscribe - New episodes every Thursday at 6AM EST
Episode 1 - Conspiracy, Death, and Executions
Florence, Sunday, April 26th, 1478 - From afar, you could see the shape of a man sitting between two guards on a carriage pulled by two horses, approaching at a gallop, rushed and fast. Not just any man—the man Lorenzo had been impatiently waiting for.
Lorenzo stood tall in Via Proconsolo 10 near the entrance of Palazzo della Signoria. Before that scene, he let go of the grip on his wounded arm. As the wobbling carriage approached and stopped before him, he felt a different edge from that stabbing pain. Jacopo struggled to see through the swelling and pain from the capture—the treatment reserved only for those you want to keep alive a bit longer.
"Bring this bastard inside," Lorenzo ordered, "and leave us alone," he continued. Shame weighed heavily on Jacopo as he avoided the eyes of the man he tried to assassinate, the brother of the man he had killed a few hours earlier. "Move on," this frightening guard screamed while lifting Jacopo from his arms and pushing him to leave that carriage—his life's last anchor.
"Sir, I am sorry for your loss, but we are all here for you," a man said as Lorenzo entered the palace near those men dragging Jacopo by the arms. Locals from all over Florence came to the palace to support their ruler on the news that Jacopo was arriving. All around, a human barricade brimming with tension and rage. Lorenzo found reassurance in the unwavering support for the de' Medici family, offering him solace as he navigated the stormy weather ahead.
"Everyone. Leave!" a voice shouted as Lorenzo entered the palace's courtyard: a square with four pillars on each side connected by gray arches supporting tall, large windows made with stained glass. Jacopo, the head of the Pazzi family, the head conspirator of that morning's assassination, was there in agony, his knees and hands pounding on rusticated stone bricks made of yellow-ochre sandstone and now stained with red blood all around. "Look up!" the guard screamed as he stepped back, creating space for his leader. "Your lord has arrived," he continued, aiming to undermine Jacops's infamous reputation.
Lorenzo was now face to face with his brother's assassin. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange that carried more weight than words ever could. The air around them became heavy, charged with unspoken accusations and unrelenting tension, as if the world had narrowed to occupy the space between them, filled with years of hatred and obsessed competition over power and riches. They were de facto the heads of their respective families and banks, making them the richest and most powerful in Europe.
But now, the balance of power had shifted irrevocably, tilting entirely toward the lone survivor. There was no return from that act that cost Giuliano's life. God had spared his life for a reason—the very same God whose human incarnation on Earth, the Pope, sought to have him killed—a juxtaposition between divine will and human beliefs.
"I thought you and I had an agreement!" Lorenzo said as he grabbed that vile man by the hair. Anger made his voice tremble, and his fist clenched tightly. "My sister Bianca married your nephew Guglielmo for a reason–to end all of this absurd rivalry." as Lorenzo continued, Jacopo slowly stood up, and with limping steps, he got an inch from him. The guard, noticing the movement beneath the arches, rushed to intervene but halted as Lorenzo commanded him by raising his palm. That man was in pain; you could see his right hand holding his ribs tight while blood was dripping from his legs.
"No, not exactly," Jacopo said with a voice as weak as the rest of his tormented, martyred body. "You. Your damned family. Kept. All the power. Tax reliefs, public offices–you left us with the scraps, the loose change, while you took and maintained all the power." Suddenly, his voice returned, like when you know how this will end, but you want to project strength and fearlessness. Lorenzo didn't say a word—he felt a sense of pity for that man, now undressed of all his power and riches.
"And that was just enough for you and your miserable family." Lorenzo's anger took over. "I had asked you, a Florentine like me, to annex the city of Imola to Florence to expand our power in Romagna." Lorenzo needed to find some logic in all of this, or perhaps he was merely convincing himself that what was about to happen had valid motivations, as if his brother's death were not enough to kill the head of a family. "I. Specifically. Asked you not to finance the Pope's attempt to buy the city from the Duke of Milan. You gave me your word that it wouldn't happen. Yet, instead of keeping your promise, you informed him of my terms and went ahead with the financing." Lorenzo's voice shot up like his desire for revenge.
"Yes, you have a good recollection of the events," Jacopo responded with a sense of irony. "And since your memory is so good, then you also remember how you felt when the Pope took the papal Treasury away from you and gave it to me," Jacopo spoke boldly, without hesitation, because then, in that place, at that moment, those were the words of a man on the brink of death. Lorenzo grabbed Jacopo by his coat with both hands and lifted him. "You have never accepted that we, the Pazzi, are richer and more powerful than you. You happen to run this city because of your father. If only those two stupid guys had finished their job this morning..." With a violent shove, Lorenzo drove Jacopo to the ground. He interrupted his monologue because, till then, Lorenzo had felt humiliated.
Outside of the courtyard door, you could hear screams—a tempest of hate, rage, and anger, all converging on the one man whose mind plotted the assassination of their leader. Waves of violent shoves and pushes crashed on that wooden, thick door covered with bronze plates. From the door's cracks and falling flakes, you could feel the energy of a crowd anxious to burst into.
"But here is the difference: I am standing here with my power, my city, my people. And you are done. But I promise you that I will condemn your memory, the Pazzi's memory. I will persecute and execute and punish anyone who bears that name. No one will have a memory of you in history." Lorenzo's eyes were wide open and darting, filled with enraged paranoia. He paused and looked at Jacopo, absorbing every detail of his agony and weakness as if trying to etch that moment into his memory—a proud moment of revenge for his brother and his loyal people.
"Open that door, let everyone in," Lorenzo ordered the guard to unleash the furious mob as he walked out of the courtyard.
Subscribe - New episodes every Thursday at 6AM EST
Episode 1 - Conspiracy, Death, and Executions