So, that’s how it came to be that the pope and his advisers huddled around my portrait and hatched their plan to invade Florence: Cardinal de’ Medici would head up an army of five thousand soldiers and retake Florence in the name of the pope. A Medici’s presence at the head of the army would hopefully quell some of the resistance; perhaps serious damage to the city could be avoided, but Florence’s rebellion would be squashed, and all Florentines would suffer the consequences of turning traitor. The statement would be clear: any city that breaks with His Holiness would pay. When the discussions were over, the pope and his advisers all patted me on the back and told me that this new plan wouldn’t have been possible without my powerful painting.

Don’t hear me sideways. I’m proud of my portrait of Pope Julius II. I am. It’s only that I’d like to make clear that it wasn’t my intention to promote marching off to war. Don’t believe me? Look at the painting with your own eyes. It’s proof that I didn’t want anyone to go to war. I didn’t. I wanted peace.

But as long as the pope was determined to go to war, I was glad it was against the Florentines.

Chapter LII

Chapter LII

Cardinal de’ Medici and his papal army made quick work of their march up the peninsula. When they invaded Prato, the smoke seen in Florence was so thick and black that members of Florence’s Republican government—including Gonfaloniere Soderini—fled. So, by the time Cardinal de’ Medici marched through those gates, the remaining citizens of Florence didn’t fire any cannons but threw flowers and ribbons in celebration: the Medici had returned. Those were good days: the pope was ecstatic with his easy victory; I was working on a new fresco, The Mass at Bolsena, for my miracles room; and Michelangelo was still locked up on his scaffolding, refusing to come out and face the whispers about the now-defeated Florentines. Everything seemed to be going so well until . . .

“Maestro!” Sodoma cried, barging into the apartments.

“I don’t have time for your gossip today, Sodoma, I have more miracles to make.”

“But maestro . . .”

“No more ghost stories, no more conspiracies, no more rumors.”

“But this is about Imperia.”

I looked up.

“There’s been a tragedy.”