Chapter 2 - Pisa

David lifted his tea cup once again, wondering about what would happen to Giovanni, but already loving the inner life of this little boy, and he too had seen the marvelous little workshops in Florence, with the craftsmen doing the work as they had been for decades, a long life in a Florentine workshop, and as their families have been doing for centuries. And always with the sense of joy, and a sense of people loving their life, and how they spend their days. Not pursuing anything, but just doing the same thing, with perfection and skill, and being with their friends and colleagues.

  As many of the streets still have not changed much since those times, he could imagine little Giovanni walking around seeing many of the same things as today, only through the eyes of a boy living in a very different world. But the sun, and the streets, and the buildings, much of this was shaping the minds of people in those times, as they had also influenced David on his trips many years before, opening his eyes to this change in human history, and to the immense beauty that would leave its mark on him, for many years to come.

While back in the family home of the Rinozzos in he fourteen hundreds, the mood was briefly a little tense as the boys had a small argument, but this was quickly resolved with Lucrezia letting them argue for a while, and then pointing out inconsistencies in Michelangelo’s reasoning towards little Lorenzo. Usually Lorenzo was the one overstepping his boundaries, but at the moment, it was the older one doing so, feeling entitled to this after some weeks of patience with his smaller siblings. But then it all was settled, and they enjoyed another supper with pasta, sauce and parmigiano, Giovanni's favorite. 

  Tomaso had some new stories to tell from the market, and Michelangelo always asked questions about the business, and the customers, and the trade partners of his father. “He will inherit my business one day,” Tomaso often thought, “and he will do good.” It always gave him peace, to think about this.

In the Palace the next few days, Ezio was growing even more hard and ruthless towards the growing threat from the neighboring city states. He wanted to teach Pisa a little lesson, but also communicate clearly to Milan, Siena, Venice, Rome and France at the same time. “This is not about Pisa,” his voice dominated the room. “This is about Florence’ position in Italy. We will crush this.” And then he ordered the army to be ready to march the next week. His sons were looking a bit nervous, the advisors nodding, and the special advisor otherworldly ™ was nodding and carefully smiling. “All according to plan,” he thought to himself. “This is splendid.”

The next week the army of Florence marched towards Pisa and after some resistance at the city walls, they crushed open the gates, and slaughtered half of the city. “Let half of them live,” Ezio had commanded. “We are not animals.”

  The word quickly spread around the Italian peninsula that the wrath of Ezio had once again been provoked, and that the army was still strong and ruthless. The position of Florence rose a little bit higher, and trade and business increased, as it was seen as a safe environment with good protection. Marcello was not very pleased with the haunting images of the thousands of killed ones in Pisa, but he was also reluctantly admitting that it had been effective, with positive results, and that it easily could have been a lot worse and a more bloody outcome.

  Cesario on the other hand, was with no second thoughts and only delight over the display of brutality and power. He wished they could have killed the whole city once they had the chance and reasoning for it, but his father had said: “No.”

  “Misplaced mercy,” Cesario had thought. “My rule will be more clean, and clear.”

  And after the message of Pisa, there was a longer period of peace in the relations to neighboring states, as Ezio knew. His gardening had worked well this time, but he was still watching attentively to any other signs of new little weeds, a sick branch, some soil that needed replacement. Or maybe just lighter cutting of grass sometimes, like preventive maintenance of his reign and Kingdom. This also gave him some piece of mind to briefly enjoy the arts and new splendor that was arising around in the city. “These are indeed good times for us,” he thought to himself. “If only it would last.”

As the news about Pisa reached the Rinozzo household, Giovanni was listening again, being very curious about this. His father supported the action, his mother thought it was too harsh. His bigger brother liked the business effects of it, while the youngest one, Lorenzo, had no interest or opinion at all. He was building some new toys, and had more important things on his mind.

  While Giovanni was trying to get deeper into this, and the consequences for the ruling family, his own family, his own future, and the further development and growth of the city. He also wanted to understand if this was just one in a row of battles, or a starting one, or an ending one, and he was curious about how this was seen and perceived by the other cities and their enemies. Did this give them any support or just more envy and hostility, he wondered. And after supper he went up to his room and took out a little diary, and started writing. “The attack on Pisa, 1460.” He tried to make notes of all that he had heard, and then all of his thoughts, and he felt how his mind was growing as he was writing with his little pen. It was a clarifying and exhilarating feeling, and it all looked so much more orderly on the page. It all made more sense to him. “Maybe the Lordship wanted to stop something else,” he thought to himself. “Maybe he had no choice.”

  He put down his pen and it was dark outside now. He wanted to see a little bit of the view again, before going to bed. He heard some people from the square, but the rest was quiet, and another clear night with the stars shining high above. He wondered if the world had to be like this, or if there could be a different world were they did not have to kill half a city to prevent something worse. But he also felt safe in Florence, and being in a strong city. And he wanted to know and understand more about this, but he didn’t know where to go. Neither his parents, nor his teachers, seemed to go deeper into this. The men in the workshop, probably not. And his friends and kids at his own age, they didn’t talk about this much. For now he only had his diary, but he would look for someone else. He wanted to understand much more.

  And then he felt tired, and got ready for bed again.

 

Ezio was also looking back at the quick battle a few weeks later, wondering if not he partly did it because he wanted to teach his two sons an example of leadership and real life politics and diplomacy. He almost questioned himself if he was getting too cynical, and that this might teach them the wrong lesson, but then he felt clear and confident again. The result had been splendid, and he had also strengthened his own position in the Palace, and in the city. At this point he did not any longer question the nature of the world, he was just acting accordingly. And then he went into the Palace Gardens for a little walk. They had installed some wonderful statues and fountains in the center part of it, and it had become a new habit for him, invigorating and pleasant, to have a daily walk in the warmest period of the day. His special advisor Niccoló was also joining him today. “Excellent work,” Niccoló said, as he had supported him before the attack. The Lord Ezio was silent. “This will keep the peace.”

  Niccoló also wanted to expand the city’s power, but did not admit or saying so overtly. But Ezio could see and easily detect this, having lived in power his whole life. “What should we do with Siena?” Ezio asked him.

“Ah.. Siena,” otherworldly ™ smirked. “Let us send them an envoy, to test their leanings. They have a complicated alliance with Venice at the moment. We could further complicate that.”

  Ezio looked out into the air. He partly admired and partly detested the men driven by pure power instincts. They could be his most valuable advisors, with a brilliant and cunning insight into the mind of others, but they were also narrowly driven by a thirst for power, or a proximity to power. Niccoló’s suggestion was more or less what he expected, so he thought it might be a good proposal. “Done.”

  Niccoló had been by his side for a long time, and was always loyal to Ezio. Even though there had been several opportunities and occasions of plotting against their leader, he had always considered it most valuable for him, to keep the current Lord of Florence, and pursue his agenda from that position. And Niccol™ was also sowing seeds into the minds of the two sons, thinking that Marcello perhaps was too content with a peaceful era with Florence as one among equal cities, but he had his concerns about Cesario’s unconstrained potential for brutality. But if Niccol™ could control Cesario properly, that brutality might be contained with fictional arguments about helpful restraints for later, and even stronger, retaliations or aggressions. “But we will see,” Niccoló told himself. “That could be decades from now.”

  They both ended the Garden walk and went back into the Palace. Ezio felt lighter, and could focus on more domestic affairs for the rest of the day. And later on have a banquet with the King of Genova. It would be boring and a repetitive conversation, but good food. And he always brought his sons with him to have them learn something new.

David knew where all this was headed, and as the inpatient person he was, he decided to skip a bit ahead in the book. He briefly skimmed some sentences to get a grasp of how things developed, but he wanted to see what would become of the younger ones, especially his two favorites Marcello and Giovanni, and how Ezio would have navigated through the dangers and wars at the time.

He skipped a big part of the book, only briefly seeing that Giovanni went through several different steps while growing up, at times looking to become an artist, and still being a bit of a mystery.

  But the whole Rinozzo family was flourishing over the years, with Michelangelo becoming more like his father for each year, and Lorenzo spending time in the workshops and always repairing or building something.

The whole city of Florence went through a time of relative peace, with Ezio’s firm hand and the trade bringing in huge riches to the city, making the flower even stronger, more beautiful, and more admired around the world. The ruling family of the Barberozzinis became a respected and feared family, who secured the city of Florence eternal life as the center of culture and arts for centuries to come.

  David found all of this very fascinating. And then he stopped on a new page. Which started with “1480.” Giovanni was now 30 years old.