Chapter 5 - Growth

David felt the sunshine too.

  And he was still dreaming more about the artists, the workshops, the enlightenment of the era, maybe even more so than he was drawn into the intrigues of the Palace, and Giovanni’s ascent to prominence in the ruling class of the city. His big love for the Renaissance had always been the creativity, and the unparalleled beauty and splendor of the artistic explosion of the time. He held his little tea cup, not much left now. He would soon put on another kettle.

  But then he felt a bit curious again, about the fate of Marcello, and of Giovanni. He had a feeling that Giovanni was not quite yet at his destination in life, and he skipped a few more pages in the book, too impatient to wait for the answer.

  In skimming the pages he would see some sentences about the new intrigues that followed from the coronation of Marcello, and how Niccoló tried a new game to push Giovanni out of the Palace, to secure his full domination and attention from the Lord of Florence. A few weeks into the new rulership, in the assemblage, Barberozzini ™ would raise his sly, thin voice around the table. “There has been brought to my attention that the ruler of Venice and Rome are plotting to seize the glorious Republic of Florence, and rob her of all her magnificent artistic and earthly riches.” He wanted to instill some fear into the new Lordship. “There might also be a consideration to make to evaluate the strengthening our political front and present a united Lordship of the House of Barberozzini with Cesario at our side again. They say he has become more mildened over the last few years. “

  But Niccoló’s brilliant mind had started to fade. Marcello naturally sensed there was something behind this, and after the assemblage he had private discussion with Giovanni.

  “Your opinion of this?” Marcello asked. Giovanni, who already had grown a bit tired of the monotony of power, tried to sharpen his mind. He had at times thought of removing himself from the Palace, or diminishing his own role and influence, but would rather not see Niccol™ gain full control.

  “I think you could outplay him just this once, to gain his respect and put him to rest. Let him pull in Cesario, but then hang this clearly around Niccol™’s neck,” Giovanni started. He also suspected Niccol™’s game to push himself out to the sidelines, but he did not want to state this directly, yet. And as with the old Lord Ezio, Giovanni was now already so used to the dynamics of power and the effects it had on people. “I will pretend to support Niccol™, and in the last minute, you tie him and Cesario together.” Niccol™ might have suspected something like this, but Giovanni had never played games in this way before. He was always multi-layered and diplomatic, but never engaging directly in the games. Not until now.

“Agreed,” said Marcello. “And that way Giovanni is closer too,” he thought. 

  “And in that way, I am not longer that needed,” thought Giovanni.

As they gathered next week in the War Gallery, Marcello entered the room with a renewed confidence and authority, and a stronger and more vibrant voice than before. “He’s becoming more like his father already,” Giovanni thought. “Nature has sometimes its inevitable ways.”

 They received reports from the advisors and generals, and then Marcello spoke. “Niccol™, please elaborate on your proposals from last week.” Niccol™ seemed slightly surprised. “Well certainly, my Lord,” he pretended to be delighted. “In the wider and historical perspective of the power shifts and perceived or orchestrated uncertainties usually surrounding a transitional period, there is a compelling argument to be made for precluding these developments by reinforcing the image of a united and strengthened Dynastic Lordship, if nothing else, to remove he potential rumors of internal conflicts.”

  Marcello: “Any other views on this? Giovanni?”

Giovanni quickly followed up: “Disregarding my personal distrust in the growth potential of the Lord’s brother, I would indeed concur with the overall assessment of Niccol™.”

  Niccol™ looked bewildered. Something was happening.

“Excellent. Niccol™, you are hereby temporarily transferred to special advisor for Cesario, in his new position as the Royal Strategic Principal for the long term conquests of the Lordship and Republic of Florence.”

  Silence.

  And more silence from Niccol™.

And Giovanni, he felt relieved. Marcello was strengthened, Niccoló diminished, and himself, both strengthened and more liberated.

  Marcello then rose, and left the room. “Only a slight miscalculation,” Niccoló thought to himself. "I will be back."

David felt a bit relieved, too.

  And as he turned over another little chunk of pages, he suddenly discovered a different tone in the book, as more years had passed, and the different lives had changed, for some a little, for some a lot, and for some, nothing at all.

  The sun had moved a bit on the floor in his living room, and he loved seeing the glow of the sun softly stroking over the carpet. It made him smile a little, and then he found a new chapter, that caught his attention. It seemed like Giovanni was free.

And one day, when Giovanni was 45 years old, he was sitting in his favorite little square as usual, chatting with the owner, both with warm smiles, and talking about the smaller things in life and the beauty of Florence.

He had left the Court many years ago now, and he never missed the life in the halls of the Lordship. He had learned a lot, and he felt he had helped the city, but it had never been in his nature to stay there for very long, and not at all for a whole life time.

  He breathed in the fresh air, looked at the people around him, and felt free, and happy. “My little Gio,” the owner said, and laughed. “I remember you as a little boy. Always listening, looking, curious about the world. And always running around, wanting to know more.” Giovanni smiled.

  He still felt the same, and full of life.

A few minutes later the sculptor friend of Giovanni came into the square and sat down with him. They both ordered another coffee, and were catching up on the latest events in the city and their lives. “Have you seen the newest frescoes in the Sassetti Chapel?” his friend asked. “The detail and beauty is just astonishing.” Giovanni nodded. He loved it too. “Especially the Confirmation, and the Resurrection,” he added. “A true masterpiece that will stand for centuries to come.”

  They greeted some other friends walking by, and then Giovanni asked: “And your work, any new commissions?” His friend smiled: “Yes. I’m going to Rome to make a new piece in the Basilica. A Cardinal wants a monument for his funeral. A big one in marble. I cannot say anything more.” Giovanni was happy to hear this, and knew that he would get to know more about this after a while, as his friend could never keep a secret to himself for very long.  

  “Congratulations. And well deserved,” Giovanni added.

 “And how about you,” the friend asked. “Any new projects?”

  Giovanni halted a bit.

 Then he drummed his fingers briefly on the table, and looked up at the skies for a few seconds. His friend became curious. This was not a very usual reaction from Giovanni, the always fluent and well spoken philosopher and earlier Councillor to the Lord of Florence. He waited for a few more seconds, and then he spoke: “I have been working on a project for quite some time now. Maybe you could be the first one to know.”

  His friend listened carefully and was very happy about what he was starting to hear. “You know I have been making notes and kept diaries ever from I was a little boy, and through all my years working at the Court. Well, some time ago I started going through them again, and it inspired me to begin a new project.” His friend felt he knew what was coming, and had partly expected this for at least twenty years, that some day, this would be the next big step.

  “I have now gathered all this and started on working on the construction of a structure for a new book, or a series of books, with the encompassing of the fullness of our city’s and civilization’s history and origins, mixed in with a detailed description of the artistic and intellectual minds through all life stages of a set of different personalities, and the nature and beauty of a flourishing and glorious culture. In short, it should be a timeless and beautiful tale about the growth of human life and culture on earth, summed up to our current and splendid times.”

  His friend smiled. “Not a small work,” he mused. “You’ll need some time for this.”

Giovanni smiled back. “I have my notes, and I have lots of time.”

  They finished their coffee and went into the city again, crossing the river in the splendid sunshine, and stopping for a bit, on one of the bridges. “This project of yours,” his friend said. “I really like it. Let me know if I can help.” Giovanni was happy about the support, and said: “Thank you. It will take about a decade I think. And it should be shaped like the most beautiful cathedral in the world, and a work that people can spend their whole life with. Always learning, enjoying, being inspired and seeing new perspectives and discovering new things about themselves and human nature. It should be a little extra sun in people’s lives, always there, whenever they need it.”

  They looked at the river and then up at the skies. The whole valley was bathing in sunlight again, strong and warm sunlight, giving life to the city and making the flower grow, and flourish, as never before.

Over the coming years Giovanni was working on his project every day, learning and reliving the best parts of his life, while going through the city’s history and remembering all the beautiful people he had met in his years. It was truly a joy for him, and later he also picked up a very small advisory position with the Palace, just a few times a year, to meet with his old friend Marcello, and enjoy the beauty and the luxury of the Court, in brief moments.

 On one of these visits Marcello had asked him: “And your family, how are they? I hear your father is not well.” Giovanni was moved and his father was indeed coming of old age now. And then it came back to him the supper evenings as a child, and his father’s admiration for the ruling family, wanting to earn a visit.

  “He is getting old,” Giovanni replied. “Some days are worse than others.”

  “Well let me know if I can do anything.”

  Giovanni looked at him, and told him the story about Tomaso’s dreams as a younger merchant, to with time and achievement gain an audience with the Lord of Florence.

Marcello said: “He has through his life work in trade, and as a family father, given this city and history an immense contribution and gift. For that, I would like to send him an official invitation for an audience in the coming weeks, when his health will allow him to do so.”

  Giovanni was moved even more.

About a month later Tomaso was standing outside the Throne Room in his best clothes, only with a wooden cane that Lorenzo had carved out and given him at his birthday for support, and with a deep glow in his eyes, knowing that his life work and family had made a difference, and being respected by the Lordship of the city.

 He went in, and Marcello was already sitting there, waiting. “Please, enter. It's an honor,” he told Tomaso. A little tear appeared in Tomaso’s eyes. He straightened up. “The honor is fully mine,” he replied, with a deep bow. They talked for a few minutes, about life, the city, Tomaso’s family, and trade arrangements in the region.

  It courtly ended, and Tomaso was a different man from that day, and in his remaining years. He had a glow, and a look in his eyes, that his life had been a good one. It was a silent, but profound, emotion in him, and something he could never quite explain. And he was Tomaso Rinozzo now, a man given the honor of his life, from the Lord of Florence.