immortal person

Chapter 21 1

He dreamed of a wasteland.Different from the blooming field in Florence, along the path of St. James, he went westward away from the town, and encountered a remnant villa from Hadrian's period in the dark shadows of trees in the field.After a hundred years of decay, the murals and sculptures have decayed, and Mercury, who guards travelers in front of the gate, has only one arm left.The royal family garden in the past was overgrown with weeds. The poppies on the edge of the steps had long withered, and the dark brown pods were hanging down. Not far away was a group of snake shadows. The thorny blackberries growing in the corridor spread blankets under the dripping stone eaves.The sky is full of stars, and warlocks predict their fate based on their flickering patterns and moving trajectories.The brightest one in the sky is dark blue, shining like gentle eyes.

As usual, before going to bed, he took out a small statue of the Madonna from his luggage, knelt down and prayed to her: Mary, advocate of sinners before God, mother of our Savior, protect him, Give him the desire of his heart, and accomplish all his plans; lead him not into temptation, and deliver him from evil...

Lorenzo.At the thought of the name, the dream ended and he snapped his eyes open.Above the dark ebony cornices of the tavern, the morning light filtered through the dusty curtains and reflected on the gray plaster walls beside the bed.He opened his hand, with the florin back facing upwards, engraved with a lily in full bloom.He turned it face-up and gazed at the head of the Duke of Medici.

The new florins came out two years after he left, and since then he has made it a habit to sleep with his hands on them.Early aides would later witness him staring at the coins in the morning, which is how he became known as "the purse" at the court he served at the time - he was thought to be dissatisfied with his already high rewards .He didn't blame the apprentice, nor did he care about the people who called him that, they just didn't understand anything.Ignorance is not their fault.

Now he is back.

Giovanni went to the window, and under the wooden window was a bustling crowd, men and women, old women and young children, merchants, butchers and guardsmen, they hurried down the long streets of Florence, their heels rattling on the flagstones. Da" sound like a horseshoe.The aroma of toast and cherry blossoms spread in the dry air, and in the distance were scarlet roofs one after another, Giotto's bell tower, the Church of Santa Maria del Fiore, the family's Boboli Gardens, and finally, Giovanni looked at the A stately marble palace, his long-lost, former home.

He remembered that dream.He guessed it had happened shortly after he had left Florence, perhaps on his way to Bologna, at the foot of the Apennines.On a fork in the road of fate, he lived a life like a nomad until he arrived at the next city that respected artists.Where Beauty is revered, he is regarded as a guest of honor, while in other cities in the dark ages he is no more than a stonemason, just above the cattle.At this time, what Lorenzo taught him came in handy. Every city respects scholars.And Florence—he couldn't predict how long he would stay here.Five years later, she is still a holy place for artists, and every craftsman who has learned is willing to play a skill here; however, Ferrara and the nobles of Rome will also look forward to his arrival. In Rome, almost The king has sent an invitation to him.On the carriage back to the city, he once thought: Just leave everything to fate.And fate made him understand its power on the first day.

They meet each other in front of the tavern.The stares lasted for a short time, and Giovanni was the first to look away. He didn't know what the continuation of the gaze would lead him to do.Walking up to the Duke, reminiscing about old friends?Or hug him and kiss him, like what he has dreamed repeatedly in the past few years?

He turned away, still feeling Lorenzo's gaze resting on him.Behind him, Poliziano handed the glass to Lorenzo, the duke took it and thanked him, and the two left quickly.Giovanni stood on the second floor, watching him get on his horse.Lorenzo looks the same as five years ago, time has always loved him.The young king was still very personable, with all the qualities that make him a favorite.When he smiles, his smile is still sincere, pure and passionate, as if he has never been tortured by life.He looked better than ever, and time is always a good medicine.How much has he forgotten and how much does he remember?Does he have a new lover? —What does this have to do with me?Does he still need an artist?

Before the rose-colored halo of the east appeared, he stopped his pointless thinking.This day is Bertholdo's funeral, which is why he returned home.

Bertoldo will be buried in the Medici Chapel. Like his teacher Donatello, they have spent their lives under the blessing of the family and will eventually return like every family member.When Giovanni arrived, his former disciples stood silently aside. The sculpture school in the garden of San Marco disintegrated when Bertoldo was seriously ill. Some of them are still serving the family today, while others Some people wandered around the city to sell their craft.A young woman approaches, whom he recognizes as Bertoldo's niece, who almost became his wife.She pinned dewy white flowers on his lapel, thanking him for coming.

He knelt beside the old man, lifted the black cloth covering the corpse, and Bertholdo had a very peaceful expression on his face smeared with holy ointment.He raised the old man's dead branch-like hand, and kissed lightly on the back of his hand, just like when he said goodbye.

Strict, selfless, lifelong steadfast old man, there is no reason why he should not go to heaven, Giovanni thought, so this is farewell.

There was a slight sound of footsteps behind him, Giovanni stood up and saw familiar faces approaching.Giuliano, the gentle young man in those days, has already worn out a lot; Mirandola, the teacher who taught him ethics; Poliziano, the great scholar nodded gently to him.Then he saw Lorenzo as expected, the Duke did not avoid his gaze, their gazes intertwined in the air, and then avoided each other.

The priest began to say the last prayers.People carefully lifted Bertoldo's body and put it into the sarcophagus beside it. It was the last work of the master and the only one he made for himself in his life.As if out of control, Giovanni's eyes fell on the Duke.He was dressed in black and stood at the forefront of the crowd. After the coffin lid was closed, Giovanni saw him bow his head and move his lips three times.Then he knew they had the same thing in their minds.

Mementomori.*

After the funeral, unexpectedly, the young woman came straight to him, Poliziano at her side.She said her name was Eliza and she had been married three years ago.She came to inform Bertoldo of his will, and the old man left all his property to him.

Giovanni was speechless.Bertoldo was the most celebrated master engraver in Florence for a decade, and his legacy was pitifully small.During his lifetime, all the rewards he had received were given back to Lorenzo, and were donated in the name of the family to the Brotherhood to provide dowries for poor girls.In the last year of his life, he became blind due to conjunctivitis and lived only on family allowances, so he left few coins, only a few works of great value.In the end, she said that before his death, my uncle said that he would leave the body to you, but we refused.Please forgive me.

It hadn't occurred to him that Bertholdo still remembered the conversation about the autopsy - at the time he thought neither of them was serious.Of course, he said, that was the right thing to do.

In his roaming life he had gained enough experience from the condemned, the executioners of Perugia and Rome were willing to sell everything for gold coins.He then asks Eliza to accept Bertholdo's inheritance, which is rightfully hers.Yet she resolutely turned him down.

"They belong to those who understand them," she said.

"At least accept the property, then," said Giovanni.

"Don't think about him, Madame," Poliziano chimed in. "He looks like a poor boy, doesn't he? But do you know how many nobles' pockets he has drained—Piacenza River The concession to operate the ferry, the large estate under the Palatine Hill...these are properties in his name."

Eliza looked at him in surprise, probably not expecting that not all artists are poor.She didn't push back anymore, curtsied to him and left.Giovanni looked at Poliziano, unaware that his former grammar teacher paid him such attention.

"I've heard it many times, so of course I remember it," Poliziano explained.Giovanni nodded, naturally taking what he was referring to as the visiting courtiers from various countries.Poliziano patted him on the shoulder and led him to go out: "Please come with me—His Royal Highness is waiting for you."

In an instant, Poliziano felt the young man's body stiffen immediately.He smiled and shook his head.

The crowd had already dispersed.From a distance, Giovanni saw Lorenzo standing upright under the olive tree not far away.He had already taken off the black robe, and was wearing a white shirt with wide sleeves, with silver stars and moons embroidered on the neckline.The morning sun flooded the courtyard without restraint, his blond hair was shining like the sun, as if he felt his gaze, the Duke turned sideways, and those blue eyes turned to look at him.

"Would you like to walk with me?" Lorenzo whispered.

Finally, his soul warmed up in the sunshine.

The author has something to say:

*Latin motto, the same as the title of this volume, means "mortals are mortal".

The Palatine Hill is one of the seven hills of Rome, and Piacenza is a small part of the Papal States, which means that the Pope and other monarchs rewarded Joe very generously.