CHAPTER 18
As the ancient bells of the church tower rang, the long and deep hymn of thanksgiving also began to echo.
"Wisdom! You were born from the mouth of the Most High, governing all things from one end of the earth to the other, balancing both mercy and severity. Come and teach us the path of wisdom—"
Thousands of candles hung high beside the holy images in the church, while the congregation, forming a long line, sang along with the choir in prayer.
The Florence Cathedral, like a grand confessional of atonement, stood open, with the morning light falling onto its dome, as though it were God's gaze.
"—The Almighty has done great things for me, and all generations will call me blessed."
The bells rang through the entire city of Florence, like stars scattered in the sky, and even the children fell silent. Countless people prayed in deep reverence, their prayers blending and overlapping like invisible bricks being stacked into a tower reaching toward the heavens.
It was once again the Feast of the Assumption.
The statue of Jesus was lifted high, symbolizing His return to heaven alongside the Virgin Mary.
Lorenzo, dressed in a deep red robe, stood before the mechanical dove and pressed a lever. The dove let out a long cry, flapping its wings as it soared into the fireworks tower on the carriage. In the next moment, an explosion erupted, and the horse neighed loudly as it galloped forward.
The procession and celebration began, with actors dressed as angels and saints singing hymns in the long line. The stage was adorned with scenes of countless holy miracles.
"My soul magnifies the Lord, my God—"
The priests followed the jubilant procession, offering olive branches, symbols of good fortune, to the people on both sides of the road.
The farm women, eager to pray for their children, jostled and crowded forward, while thieves lurked in the crowd, taking advantage of the chaos.
Hedy was almost swept away by the crowd, stumbling for a moment. Just as she was about to fall backward, Leonardo reached out and grasped her hand.
They exchanged a glance, the joyful and loud hymns resonating from behind them.
"My soul rejoices in the Lord, my God—"
She steadied herself, gripping his hand in return, and together they moved against the flow of people toward another direction.
As the procession moved on, knights rode in on their fine horses, their heads held high. The crowd stepped back, clearing the space for a racecourse, while street vendors with wicker baskets sold berries and sugar cubes.
Strongmen flexed their muscles, tight and exposed like stones, as they carried orange trees, and children began to scream and chase after each other.
The sound of fireworks crackling faded as the carriage passed, and more spectators began waving silver coins, betting on the knights.
At first, Hedy had only intended to show up as a formality; missing out too often could lead to suspicion and misunderstanding.
But perhaps due to Florence’s considerable expansion, the population had grown in the past two years. She thought it might have been better to sit with the Medici family directly—at least, there would be no risk of broken toes on the VIP balcony.
Leonardo laughed as he led her out of the crowd, the sound of bagpipes and violins swirling in the air like a flock of chaotic birds.
They stopped in a quieter spot, and she sighed deeply before saying, "I didn’t see anything like this last year in Milan."
Leonardo pulled out a silver coin, bought a cup of orange juice, and handed it to her, raising his voice playfully, "Two or three years ago, you were grumbling that you’d never come here to join in the festivities again."
Hedy raised an eyebrow, took a couple of sips to catch her breath, and replied, "Absolutely not—by Christmas, I’ll be done with mass and out of here!"
The young man laughed and patted her back, turning his head to glance at the increasingly noisy and large crowd. He spoke with a smile, "Actually, this festival was originally established as a holiday tradition by the Roman emperors one or two thousand years ago."
The livestock—cattle and horses—were adorned with garlands and hoof bells, driven through the city to entertain the people, while all the taverns and small shops took a short break.
As they made their way back toward the palace, they began discussing their return to Milan.
The grapes had ripened earlier than usual, and the toxicity testing had been moved up by over a month.
If the rabbits in the cages remained in good condition, they might be able to leave in another three or four months.
The crowds of tourists were simply overwhelming; along the way, they had encountered four Frenchmen. Hedy observed their retreating figures, waving her hand to disperse some of the strong scent of perfume.
"Now the Doge’s Palace is nearly empty," she sighed, "The ladies and children have all moved there, but the oil paintings are still as abundant as ever."
"I heard that the new oil paintings at the Palazzo Pitti have already been hung in most of the rooms," Leonardo yawned, "We might be moving there soon. Later, Botticelli and I can take you hunting."
"Hunting foxes?" Hedy furrowed her brow, "Should we take Raphael with us when we leave?"
"Not just Raphael?" Leonardo paused, observing her expression, and after a brief hesitation, added, "Actually, Michelangelo, he also wants to come with us to Milan."
He had initially found the boy somewhat annoying, but ever since they had dissected that body together, the young fellow seemed to have become much more clingy. Not only had he gone through all the manuscript notes he’d given him, but he had also started drawing full-body anatomical diagrams.
What a talented young man.
…Take them all?
That didn't seem quite right, did it?
Hedy steadied herself, seeing that he was still watching her to see if she was angry. She held back a smile, maintaining a serious expression. "Well, that would require a much bigger yard."
"—Leave it to me!"
They finally agreed that they would leave around mid-November.
Both the ranch and the paint workshop business needed to be checked and settled, and Mr. Sforza had also written to Leonardo, urging him to return soon to help design the palace staircase.
After thinking for a moment, Hedy decided to go alone to confirm the matter with the lord in advance.
Lorenzo, by now, had become a bishop and lord with multiple prestigious titles.
The unification of religious and political power seemed to require just a single opportunity, and he had keenly seized it amid chaos and war, winning more spoils for the Medici family.
If everything continued to go smoothly, his sons would also gradually infiltrate the church, and they might even become the next pope.
Moreover, he excelled in almost every field, from politics to art, achieving perfection in ways even the most critical innkeepers wouldn’t fault him.
The only regret, perhaps, was his persistent gout.
Even after Hedy’s return, he had shown no respect for the supposed medical advice, disregarding any dietary restrictions concerning alcohol and food.
Wine and seafood, like parasites, had only added to his physical burden, and when the pain flared up, it would be as though his bones were being pierced, leaving him pale and trembling.
Cosimo had tried to advise against this, but there was little he could do beyond offering his opinion.
The attacks of pain now occurred one or two times a month, and after they happened, walking again required the aid of a cane to appear steady as before.
Hedy maintained a cautious attitude when it came to personal interactions with him, and when she went to report work, she would always bring Dechio along.
Though Dechio was also one of his people, it at least provided a sense of security.
She explained to Lady Clarice the basic principle that gout was incurable and made regular checks on the health of the children and herself.
She had done nearly everything she could, and as for the lord’s out-of-control lifestyle, there was little more she could interfere with.
When Hedy walked into the office, the man was looking toward the south, leaning on his cane.
Perhaps he was gazing at the already decorated, resplendent Palazzo Pitti.
"My lord," she called softly, "I'm here to inform you of the return date in advance."
Lorenzo didn’t turn around. After a long pause, he spoke.
"When?"
"Mid-November."
He seemed disinterested in such routine matters, and after a while, he spoke again.
"Do you remember the Christmas procession from a few years ago?"
"It was supposed to be this grand, but that winter, it rained continuously."
Lorenzo rarely discussed such trivial matters, yet today he spoke about it slowly, reflecting for a long time.
"At the time, Alecto asked me whether we should cancel the celebration altogether, since everyone had gone home to warm themselves by the fire."
Hedy listened quietly, not interrupting his lengthy recount.
"I told him, 'Alecto, open the council hall and let people dance.'"
Hedy listened as he slowly recalled the past, her mind drifting.
She thought of a passage from One Hundred Years of Solitude—
"Aureliano," he typed sadly on the telegraph machine, "Macondo is raining."
There was a long silence on the line. Suddenly, the cold, indifferent telegram from Colonel Aureliano Buendía appeared.
"Don’t be foolish, Herineldo," the telegram read, "It rains in August. It’s normal."
Raining in August is normal.
Raining on Christmas is also normal.
Hedy sighed softly, but Lorenzo still heard her.
"Do you remember the celebration after the ball?" Lorenzo turned to look at her. "After the rain ended, the whole city of Florence was bathed in brilliant light, and every roof seemed to be covered in gold leaf."
"I didn’t see it, my lord," she replied flatly.
"Why not?" He paused in surprise.
She didn’t answer.
Because that winter, she had been confined in the Doge’s Palace, unable to go anywhere.