Painting Mona Lisa aka I, Mona Lisa

a young man, he was a womanizer and a fair philosopher. The Pope was eager to excommunicate him-and was even considering burning him-for his rather un-Christian syncretism.

“It was Lorenzo de’ Medici who used diplomacy to save him in 1490, well before the Medicis’ relationship with the papacy soured. Pico, however, had a short memory. He took a Pazzi mistress, who turned him against Lorenzo. When Giuliano died and Lorenzo took his horrible vengeance on the Pazzi, Pico began looking for ways to influence the people against the Medici, to bring the Pazzi back.

“When Pico went to hear Savonarola speak in Ferrara, he saw a very charismatic man who disapproved of the wealthy and corrupt. He saw an opportunity for swaying the people against Lorenzo. And Fra Girolamo is an enormously gullible, impetuous man. Pico guessed correctly that he would be able to convince Savonarola to preach against the Medici, and make the friar believe it was his own idea.”

I interrupted. “Does Savonarola know about the Pazzi? About this Salvatore?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Savonarola listens to your father, and to Fra Domenico. But that is another part of the story.

“As for Pico… through his mistress, he knew of Francesco de’ Pazzi’s son Salvatore. And when the Pazzi were expelled from Florence, Pico exchanged letters with Salvatore. He fueled the boy’s rage with tales of the Medicis’ excesses, of their pilfering from public funds. By the time Salvatore was a youth, he wanted to wrest Florence from the Medici. And so he consulted Pico as to how the city might be won.

“Pico suggested the use of Savonarola to sway public opinion-and came up with the notion of using slow-acting poison on Lorenzo. Pico was intimate enough with the Medici to know that Piero had never nurtured his father’s political connections, and so would be weak and easily removed. The original plan was to kill Lorenzo, oust Piero, and install Salvatore as the new ruler of Florence.

“Unfortunately-or fortunately, as you prefer-Lorenzo died before Salvatore was able to muster enough troops, or enough support in the Signoria.

“But Salvatore had managed to find one stalwart supporter in the government: a Pazzi advocate, one Francesco del Giocondo. And he put Francesco in touch with Giovanni Pico. Together, they concocted a plan to turn Florence against the Medici. I’m sure it worked far better than they ever dreamt it would.

“After a time, though, Pico’s guilt over Lorenzo’s murder overcame him. He actually began to take Savonarola’s words to heart, to repent. This made him dangerous and liable to confess. For that, he was killed.”

“By my father,” I said miserably.

“By Antonio di Gherardini,” he corrected, not unkindly. “Antonio had his own reasons for supporting the Pazzi. He never meant to become entrapped in a political scheme.”

I looked down at my hands. Out of habit they rested one on top of the other, the way Leonardo preferred to paint them. “And Francesco married me so that he could control my father.”

Leonardo’s reply was quick in coming. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Lisa. You are a beautiful woman. Your husband knows it; I saw how he behaved in your presence at the christening.”

I shrugged off the flattery. “What of the ‘prophet’s letter’? How did it ruin things for them?”

He smiled faintly. “Savonarola is a very difficult man to contain. In a moment of self-aggrandizement, he wrote to the princes of Europe-to Charles of France, Federico of Spain, and Emperor Maximilian, among others-urging them to unite and depose the Pope. He said that Alexander was not a Christian and did not believe in God.”

I gaped. “He is mad.”

“Most likely.”

“And you must have been involved,” I said. “Someone gave the letter to Duke Ludovico, who then gave it to his brother, Cardinal Sforza, who then gave it to the Pope.”

He did not answer. He merely regarded me pleasantly.

“But if,” I said, “this so-called miracle fails… if the people refuse to unite behind Savonarola… then what will happen?”

“Violence,” he said.

“If they have no choice but to let Savonarola be ruined-if they murder him or arrange for him to die-then they’ll have no use for my father. For Antonio…”

His expression softened; he felt sorry for me. But I could see, too, his reserve.

“What can I do?” I believed wholeheartedly in my mother’s prophecy that death was coming for the prophet. “The longer I stay, the more dangerous it is for my father. You must help us. Take us out of Florence. Take us with you to Milan.”

“Lisa…” I heard pity in his tone. “If I could have, I would have done so long ago. But it is not so easy. There are you, and your father, and your child… and your slave, I assume. Four people. And you realize, of course, that your comings and goings are watched. That is why I have stayed here, at Santissima Annunziata, because you can come here regularly without arousing suspicion. But you will never make it past the city gates so long as your husband retains any influence.”

“So I am to stay,” I asked bitterly, “until it is too late, and my father dies?”

My words hurt him, but his voice remained gentle. “Your father is not a helpless man. He has survived this long. And the time will come soon enough for you to leave. I promise you that. It will come.”

“It will never come soon enough,” I said.

I wish now I had been wrong.

LXVI

Florence became hungry for Savonarola’s proffered miracle, and thus came about the event known as the Trial by Fire. During Fra Girolamo’s silence, Fra Domenico had replaced him in San Marco’s pulpit. He was not as popular as his master, being stubborn and somewhat dim-witted-but he was extraordinarily tenacious and fanatically devoted to Savonarola. He doggedly maintained that each word that fell from Fra Girolamo’s lips had been placed there by God.

Others had begun to preach as well-including an outspoken Franciscan at Santa Croce, Fra Francesco da Puglia, who offered a bold challenge:

“I will walk through the fire with any man who wishes to prove that Savonarola is a prophet who speaks God’s truth. For I believe Fra Girolamo to be a liar and a heretic-and that anyone who walks through the fire believing otherwise will die. I would not expect to survive, myself… but certainly, anyone who walked successfully through the flames, believing and trusting in Fra Girolamo, could then be assured he speaks the truth.”

Domenico learned of the challenge. And one Sunday he announced, from his lectern in San Marco, that he intended to enter the fire. His vehement proclamation so moved his congregation that each man and woman enthusiastically offered to enter the fire with him.

A wild enthusiasm swept the city. For once, both the Arrabbiati and the piagnoni were in agreement: Savonarola should take the challenge and prove beyond question whether he was or was not anointed by God.

Both parties presented the suggestion to the Signoria, who approved the event at once, and announced that a stage would be constructed in the Piazza della Signoria, and the spectacle would be held on a Saturday, the seventh of April, at the hour past midday. Everyone was eager to see the contest take place. As the respected Arrabbiato Leonardo Strozzi put it: “We require speedy clarification as to Savonarola’s inspiration: God, or the Devil.”

Everyone was eager but Savonarola. He regretted the fact, he said, that his followers were eager to indulge in a test which might result in another’s death; surely they already had ample proof of his inspiration and should need no more. He publicly rebuked Domenico for putting him in a position “that might prove dangerous to others.” He tried-and failed-to convince the piagnoni that the trial was a useless, prideful display.

But he could not stop it. “If my master will not enter the flames,” said Domenico, cleverly, “then I will enter them myself and prove he is God’s chosen one.”

And so, on Saturday, the seventh of April, at ten o’clock in the morning, my husband and I rode in our carriage to the Palazzo della Signoria. Extraordinary precautions had been taken: Foreigners had been expelled and all of the