All of the paintings mentioned in the novel are real. Even if you didn’t read this book with your tablet open to look at the pictures along the way, I hope you’ll track down the works in books, on your computer, or in museums. Many of our modern titles for these paintings were not used during Raphael’s lifetime. The most obvious example is the painting we now call The School of Athens; that name did not develop until much later, so I refer to it as Philosophy. Details about each painting are historically accurate, with one notable exception: I have no reason to believe that Raphael used the faces of his parents as St. Sixtus and St. Barbara or his sister as baby Jesus in the Sistine Madonna.

Raphael really did grow up the son of a court painter and poet in Urbino. His mother, Magia di Battista Ciarla, died when he was about eight; his father, Giovanni Santi, when he was eleven. Vasari tells us that he apprenticed under Perugino, although the details of how he came to the master’s studio and how long he remained are disputed. I don’t know whether he was in Florence for Savonarola’s Bonfire of the Vanities, but the historical moment is real. (Botticelli famously burned some of his own work in that bonfire.) Raphael based one of his earliest masterpieces, The Marriage of the Virgin, on a Perugino altarpiece; if you need proof, look at both paintings—the similarities are undeniable, even if you don’t consider yourself an expert in art. Perugino may have taken the copy as a compliment or as an affront, but I erred on the side of humanity, depicting the teacher as jealous of his student for surpassing him with his own designs.

In about 1504, Raphael moved to Florence, where he copied—and likely met—Michelangelo, Leonardo, and other contemporary artists (including Davide Ghirlandaio and Andrea del Sarto). Some details—like Raphael trying to take over the City Hall fresco project after Michelangelo left Florence—come to us from history, while others—like the scene of him trying to spy on Michelangelo’s cartoon and getting caught—come from my imagination (although Michelangelo publicly accused Raphael of spying on him many times, so this seems more than plausible). How, exactly, Raphael made the move to Rome to work under Pope Julius is much debated. I believe he caught the attention of the pope based on his talents (so I used his superb Lamentation as the catapult), but I also wanted to use the duke’s threats of poisoning to illuminate a central truth of the times: this period of Italian history is rife with poisonings, and fears of such plots were common. Michelangelo often claimed that he was the target of murderous schemes—especially by Bramante—so I took him at his word.