immortal person

"I think it's time to make some changes." Lorenzo concluded his statement with this.

He put his hands on his knees, calmly looked around at the counselors in front of him, and glanced at their faces with different expressions one by one.Most of them looked shocked, and two of them stood up eagerly.Mirandola seemed eager to say something, and was pacing back and forth along the fig leaf pattern on the carpet, brewing up suitable words.Another walked over and slammed the study window shut, as if the breeze and the starlings would steal the secret away.Lorenzo is no exception to such scenes: he is ready to face heckles and doubts.

After a pause, he cast his eyes on Poliziano, and his friend and counselor stood up and said in a low voice, "I beg you to be more cautious."

Lorenzo nodded, signaling him to continue.

A moment ago, he confessed his vision to everyone in the study: adding two seats to the ruling group, allowing more people "outside us" to participate.On the surface, the most important governing body in Florence is the "Parliament of 70 Members" that citizens take turns to participate in and the "12-member Executive Group" elected by voting. However, people who are actually in this city know that the common people The parliament has long been ineffective, they can only enjoy the shadow of "participation", and the resolutions they make will hardly have any impact on actual decision-making.

In the ruling group composed almost entirely of nobles, seven of them are heirs, friends or "servants" of the Medici family, and Lorenzo himself is the highest-ranking "banner bearer". Accomplished with the wishes of the family.While this gave the family power and made Lorenzo himself "the uncrowned king," it also created all sorts of disadvantages.Partisanship has never been more intense than it is now: the remaining five have never been willing to submit to this system, and in recent years, under the instigation of the Pazzi family, they deliberately stand on the opposite side of the family in decision-making, and a second faction has vaguely formed ; Others who supported the family abused their power recklessly, and people constantly questioned the source of their property, thinking that they had embezzled the city-state's taxes... Even Lorenzo could not guarantee their absolute innocence.They lack both the ability and the noble virtues. Once the Duke loses his position, they are like a swarm of bees without guidance, which is useless except buzzing.

He had long been worried about this, and had hinted at it to his advisors before, but what really made him make up his mind was the various disadvantages he saw because of this sickness.Stagnant public affairs, gathering crowds, no one should be the key to the operation of a republic, the body of a person is so fragile, if he dies suddenly, what kind of chaos will Florence fall into?

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Poliziano said, "what we have achieved now is based on the foundations laid by His Highness Cosimo for many years. If we do this, it will be tantamount to surrendering it to others."

"Our achievement? Is it really necessary? Look at the current system - the members of the ruling body are drawn by lot, but everyone knows whose name will be drawn from the election bag. Who remembers us Is it still a republic in name? If it doesn’t change now, then—what will the enemies call us in the near future?—what will the scribes call us in a few decades? Tyrant, tyrant, dictator!”

Lorenzo looked up at the speaker.It was a new young man, who looked to be about Giovanni's age.Lorenzo remembered his name, Niccolò, who had joined them not long ago, and this was his first meeting in the study.Sure enough, Poliziano shouted, "Niccolò!"

"I have to say it, sir." The young man didn't budge, his eyes flashed with menacing vigor, "If you can, please use your evidence to refute me."

He looked expectantly at Lorenzo, trying to seek the Duke's support, but Lorenzo did not return his gaze.The Duke listened with a calm expression, almost calm.It was his usual role - he threw the stone and watched the ripple.

"I know that you have always yearned for the Greek tradition and regarded Athens during the Pericles period as a model. That was the golden age, of course, that is exactly what we have always taught you." Mirandola took a step closer to the Duke, "But —forgive me—we are now very different from that time, you know that. In many ways we are much more complicated than that simple generation. You are in charge of more people than the city of Athens, Facing more attacks; you will be competing not for a piece of sea, but for the whole world. Including the vast, strange new world... Just last month, the captain of Castile was brought back from that land a whole shipload of gold!—it's unimaginable...”

"But haven't we been taking wisdom from Plato and Aristotle? I dare say it, I swear it! People will continue to agree with them in another ten years, a hundred years, or even the next millennium !” Niccolo said, “some things are timeless, they are immortal, like the sun.”

"—we can know it, learn it, but sometimes they don't apply," retorted the maester.

Someone echoed: "Since the dark age, who has faced so many opportunities and challenges? This is a special generation!"

"Freedom and republic have always been our tradition! It is them, they are the reason why our city-state is called 'Great'!" Niccolo raised his voice, like a young male lion with a swollen mane , "The tradition of the republic has lasted in our city for nearly 400 years, gentlemen! Look at the fate of the ambitious people in these 400 years! They also want to monopolize the glory and wealth of this city, but—look at the 200 Years ago, the uprising of the ragtags; or, just look at the Albizzi family who were exiled not long ago, and it was His Majesty Cosimo who signed their exile order! Do we—”

"Thank you, Mr. Niccolo." Lorenzo interrupted him gently, "Sit down, please."

Niccolo came back to his senses as if awakened from a start, and took a breath.He nodded apologetically to the Duke and sat back in his seat.Lorenzo picked up the silver jug ​​beside him and poured him a glass of warm wine.

"Your Highness," Mirandola said, "I admit that we have reached a new fork. There is no doubt that we need to change. But—our sails need to obey the trade winds of the times."

"You want to maintain balance and avoid disputes, we are very clear." He continued, "This is your tolerance and respect. But other people, people who are watching from outside the wall, they will only see this as your weakness and concession .Giving the prey to other ferocious beasts, who knows if they will fight back?"

"It only needs a fair vote to prove it," Niccolo softened his tone, but still insisted, "We will not interfere. Fairly." He emphasized pointedly.

"We don't interfere, and others may not." Poliziano shook his head.He exchanged a look with Mirandola.

"With all due respect, does this mean that you already have a candidate in your mind?" Niccolo asked sharply.

Mirandola replied without thinking: "Philip Strozzi."

"The little nobleman who sent the portrait? The one holding the coat of arms?" Niccolo asked in disbelief, "He? A clown who only flatters you! Like a monkey, if you give him a banana, he will Obediently follow you..."

"A loyal servant is better than an enemy dog. At least they don't bite!  …"

Lorenzo raised his hand, ending the dispute.

Everyone quieted down.The counselors held their breath nervously, and dozens of gazes focused on the Duke together, like a wall.The Duke didn't seem to be aware of it. He just lowered his eyes, and his eyes were condensed like frost on the dark red ring on his left hand.The wind blows open the closed casement, the sky is still bright, light and wind wander in with the heat of late spring, blowing away a lock of blond hair on his sideburns.

Lorenzo didn't keep them waiting long.

"You're right. Finding a trustworthy person is by no means an easy task." He said softly, looking at the last staff member who spoke, lost in thought, "But—"suitable" may not be Doesn't mean 'fairness'. Some abuses can no longer be pretended not to exist."

He raised his eyes and looked at the crowd. "Give me some more time, it won't be too long." He promised, "I will find a time to think about this matter carefully."

Giovanni received the invitation in the afternoon of the second day.The herald in black knocked on the attic door again and handed him the crimson envelope.After unpacking the ribbon, there was an invitation card made of sheepskin, with Lorenzo's name signed in golden ink at the end.Petey on the side was obviously more excited than him. He couldn't wait to take it and read it aloud: "A dance!"

More precisely, a masquerade, as indicated by the mask pattern on the invitation.This Burgundy fashion has quickly become popular all over Italy, especially among the Venetians.It might be more appropriate to call it a carnival or a puzzle game than a dance party.People dressed up as characters from myths and legends, wearing strange and colorful masks to hide their faces.After nightfall, they won't reveal their identities, and that's the fun and the danger.

When he was at the court of Ferrara, the Duke of Este held a similar ball.He has always disliked such noisy occasions, so he only glanced at it from a distance when passing by the garden.Not long after, on the way back to the workshop, he clearly heard the muffled sex sounds of a man and a woman coming from behind a row of bushes, so he quickly left without approaching again.

Compared with these, he was more concerned about why Lorenzo chose to hold it at this time.

"The duke asks me to apologize. He would have given it to you himself, if the Sienese envoy had not come suddenly," said the herald.

"Has your Highness recovered?"

"Essentially all right—at least that's what His Highness told us."

He did not reveal more.Giovanni shook his head, the past few days had been enough for him to understand Lorenzo's ability to hide his illness.The ball will be held in ten days, enough for people from all over Tuscany to come.Petey had already begun planning how he would infiltrate the venue—lower apprentices were not invited.He even offered to make clothes for Giovanni: "A person of your status, how can you not have a few expensive clothes? Listen to me, I know the daughter of the tailor shop in the south of the city..."

However, the Medici Palace has already dispelled the worries for guests like him.Ten days later, when he stepped into the gate of the Medici Palace, the butler immediately led him aside—dozens of masks were already on the shelf.The shining masks are all woven with thin gold and silver threads, and inlaid with fine gemstones of various colors, which is the family's consistent extravagant style.He picked up a half-mask symbolizing Vulcan, and followed the maid dressed as a nymph to the garden. "You're the most modest guest to-night, sir," she said to him briskly. "Look in the garden—well, there's everything there."

"But, I say," she winked sideways at him, "I'd rather dance with a gentleman like you."

She lifts the hem of her skirt, salutes him, and leaves, as if proper flirting is part of the event.

The garden is very different tonight: the quiet moonlight in the past has receded, and the cloisters on both sides are hung with burning pine torches, presenting a glorious scene; The place is as colorful as a Bacchanalia carnival forest; aristocratic men and women dressed as gods gather around with wine glasses. From a distance, he has recognized an overweight Neptune and two short Dianas. Minerva, lost in youth, stood beside them, constantly adjusting the owl's tail feathers fixed with gold nets on her hair; a servant with a tray wandered among the guests, persuading a visitor dressed as a savage to stay away from the fire. Source, "Is that asphalt on your clothes, sir? Please be careful not to catch fire." …

Giovanni took a glass of water and looked around the dreamlike scene, trying to find Lorenzo.He saw Poliziano first.The maester and his wife come with a lyre in their hands, in the guise of Orpheus and Eurydice.He smiled at Giovanni, who had no trouble seeing what he was looking for: "Look over there."

The first thing Giovanni sees is a middle-aged man.Under the dense shade of laurel trees, the newly grown goatee concealed his round chin, but Giovanni still recognized him at a glance: "... Bishop Orsini."

"He's easy to spot, even with the cap stained red with the blood of a virgin," Poliziano quipped. "It's best not to bother them, I suggest."

He left with his wife.Giovanni stood where he was, still looking at the young man beside the Bishop.He was looking down at the bishop, taking off his gloves nonchalantly.As if he noticed Giovanni's gaze, he turned sideways, his dark golden curls shining brightly with the diamond sun pattern on the mask.

As if time and thought had stood still, Giovanni gazed at him.

Apollo, Sol, Phoebus, Helios...or whatever, he thought, Apollo, of course it should be Apollo.

The author has something to say:

*Vulcan: Hephaestus in Greek mythology, the god of smelting, manufacturing, and craftsmen.

All political theories are made up, and there will probably be many such made up plots in the future, all of which serve the main line of silly, white and sweet love, so don't get too deep into it