While cardinals debated and voted behind locked doors, I finished my Mass at Bolsena fresco. (It’s an obscure miracle, so I don’t know why you would’ve heard of it, but it was one of Pope Julius’s favorites, so I was pleased to leave it on the wall in his honor: in 1263, at a church in Bolsena, a doubting priest was conducting mass when the bread began to bleed, leaving a cross-shaped stain on the tablecloth, proving that the bread and wine indeed turn to the Body and Blood during the Eucharist.) In that fresco, to the left, at the front of an adoring crowd of faithful, I included a painting of Margherita, tall and bold, in a long, flowing yellow dress. (D’accordo, it has more of a golden tone than the sunflower dresses of such notorious ladies; I couldn’t overtly paint a puttana on a miracles fresco in the Vatican, now could I?) That single figure among a crowd would never be enough to immortalize her, but it was a start. I remember thinking: if Cardinal Riario becomes pope, I’ll cover the entire Vatican with Margherita’s face.

Then, on the cold afternoon of March 9th, word came that the cardinals were going to vote again. And this time, so went the rumor, one man had the necessary votes to be pope.

“Is that smoke?” asked Bramante, as we all packed into the square outside the Vatican, waiting for smoke to rise out of the chimney atop the roof of the Sistine Chapel and tell us there had been a vote: if no pope had been elected, black smoke would rise. If one man had enough votes to be pope, then we would be greeted by a puff of white smoke and cheers. The duke stood with us as we stretched our necks trying to get a glimpse of that slender, cylindrical chimney. “Is that . . . ?” Bramante exclaimed again, but it took another five gasps for him to be right. Eventually, the chimney coughed . . .

White smoke.

The crowd cheered, “A new pope, a new pope, praise God Almighty, we have a new pope.”

“It doesn’t have to be Riario for this to be a victory, you know,” Bramante whispered, sounding nervous. “Bibbiena would also be good.”

“The Farnese cardinal, too,” said the duke. “He likes me.”

“And he praised your Madonna of the Veil at the funeral,” Bramante added to me.