Giulio's feelings for Florence are extremely complicated, he left it when he was still an infant, although he still calls himself a citizen of Florence, but to speak, the Vatican and Siena in Rome are closer to "his" city and homeland, in 1494, in order to solve the catastrophe caused by Pierrot, he and Joe galloped day and night, from Rome to Florence, followed by dozens of hours of arguments, temptations, threats and transactions, body and mind are like strings hanging on a crossbow, I can't relax at all, even close my eyes and rest for a while is a luxury, and I don't have the time and ideas to deeply understand and play this golden city.

But this time it seems that it will be difficult to achieve his long-cherished wish, Giulio leans against the window, the fortress-like palace of the Neri family is of course also in the center of Florence, and from the window you can see the Ponte Vecchio, which had been destroyed three times and rebuilt more than a hundred years ago, with two piers and three arches, under which the gray-black water of the Arno River flows peacefully - a few plainly dressed pedestrians on the bridge hurried over the arch in the middle, and then disappeared into the houses at either end of the bridge— This is also a special place in Florence's Ponte Vecchio, where shops were erected on both sides of the wide bridge deck, which were originally butchers, then gradually converted to selling jewelry and gold, but as Giulio sees today, the windows of every room are tightly closed, and there are no smiling sellers or discerning buyers in sight. The authority of Savonarola seems to have spread over the whole of Florence like a dark cloud, and this ancient and sinful city has lost its original vitality and vitality while becoming "pure", but like an intelligent beast, its meekness often lurks in a greater crisis, like those so-called friars in white clothes, who are reckless and domineering, and probably do not expect that what they rely on is so fragile.

Caesar's sword sounded their death knell directly, the Florentines were quick to enshrine a venerable statue, and they threw it on the ground, and it was even faster when it was smashed, and the nobles of the Council of the Seventy pushed Savonarola forward in order to expel the Medici family, and now, although the Medici family was not completely banished, their parents were just a weak young man, living with his sister in the inner palace, penniless, unarmed, and isolated, who would care about such a small person? Even though the Vatican in Rome now has two Medici. In this case, Savonarola's existence became dispensable, and if it were only so, the Council of the Seventy might have promised him a church or a monastery, or that he would have gone to Rome if he wished, but Savonarola was so carried away that he was not only an extraordinary saint, but also a secular lord, and his direct interference in the internal affairs of Florence caused many people to be dissatisfied, and if he had not still had the fanatical support of the middle and lower classes, he might have died at the hands of some family of Assassins.

But perhaps what the Florentine families were best at was to play with the minds of these fools as they pleased, using them as instruments of enrichment or weapons of attack, and when the letters for help were sent to the Vatican, some small merchants also acted at the behest of their masters, and they did not directly accuse Savonarola, which was tantamount to self-defeat, and what they did was to secretly exchange bread, salt, oil, and all the necessities of the people for portraits, sculptures, lace...... That is, the "luxuries" that were thrown into the fire by the people who lost their minds in the sermons of Savonarola, and when asked, they said that they were working for the people of Lucca or Rome, and since the people of Florence no longer needed these things, what was the wrong thing to exchange for something to feed themselves and their children?

But when the men went out with joy to find the knick-knacks that were not worth much or sell much, they found that their chests and purses were already empty, and they thought as if they had been awakened from a chaotic nightmare, that if they were to remain poor, they would not need to burn them, and when they searched further, they were shocked to find that they had thrown their precious clothes into the flames, and their blood was surging and their minds were dizzy, and how could they remember what they had done?

They couldn't even blame or blame anyone, it was their own choice, they were sad, the Florentine winter did not snow or freeze, but it rained that fine rain that could freeze to the marrow, and it was the clothes that people used to keep out the cold, but the wool, the wool, the fur, were all sacrificed to fire at the call of Savonarola...... They remember their excited cries as the flames rose, and even beat their wives or mothers for it...... They rummaged through the flakes to find a small ornament or two to trade with the merchants, but in vain, and even if they had forgotten, their children had turned them in on their behalf—they were now almost all Savonarola's henchmen, even to their own relatives.

A wool washer found out that his children had not yet returned, and that these children would occasionally stay in the monastery where Savonarola had stayed to listen to the scriptures, and he did not care, but on the second day, the third day, when the children had not returned, he began to be anxious, and he asked the others, and the other people's children did not come back, and while they were gathered together and discussing anxiously, the wool washer's wife came back with a cower, and she looked at her husband, and stopped talking. When the wool washers could not resist raising their fists, she told them that she had taken her woollen wool and wanted to go to the merchant for a small loaf of bread, when she saw something familiar.

"What's that?" People asked.

"It was a silver pin left to him by my father's grandfather." The woman replied, "But long ago it was snatched by my eldest son...... and handed over to the venerable monk."

The faces of the people, including his husband, became unsightly, for the answer was tantamount to saying that they had been deceived, that Savonarola was just a deceitful and a thief, and that they had nothing and that he was secretly enriching himself by fornicating with merchants. "I don't believe it." The wool washers were the first to say that others also expressed their belief in Savonarola, some thought that there might be a thief among the monks, which was normal, and that a noble monk was rarer than gold in the gravel, and some thought that the wool washer's wife was mistaken.

They were silent for a while, but then they made up their minds to go to the merchant to see what was going on, and they went to the merchant under the guidance of the woman, and saw in the merchant a few familiar trinkets, which were often taken out for the poor to be admired and played with.

They asked the merchant about the origin of these items, and the merchant resolutely refused, and when a few people pointed out the original owner of these things, the merchant would rather give them the original than continue to investigate them, this behavior will of course raise questions, for these small merchants with weak roots, this is a considerable loss, what threatens them, so that they are willing to endure questioning and lose money and keep their mouths shut? Suspicion deepened layer by layer, and they went home with their belongings, but the rumors spread like salt melted in water without a trace.

————————————————————————————————————————————

Savonarola stood up, having only been whipped the night before, striking his back with a long whip with an iron piece at the end, his back still dripping with blood, and the rubbing of the poor linen, which was even more tingling, but for him it was a pain that cleared his mind, strengthened his will, and brought him closer to God, like a piece of triangular iron tied to his thigh, which reminded him all the time to go on the right path, to the path of light, to the path of piety, which may not be smooth, even rugged, but he not only had to go, but he also had to lead the flock of fools, and he made his breakfast with a long piece of scripture, and his shriveled stomach had long been accustomed to it, and remained silent and motionless, until a monk came to tell him, and another group of people came to inquire where their children were.

Savonarola looked at the sky, the sky was overcast, the spring in Florence had long passed, the summer was leaving, the autumn was about to leave, the falling temperature seemed to take away the people's enthusiasm for him, they were calming down, a voice said, and Savonarola couldn't help but shudder at this, and the fire in his heart seemed to dim.

He turned to look at the frescoes in the room, the Dominicans were the only sect that liked to use frescoes extensively, the painter Angelico and his assistants painted murals for every room here, the theme of the room was basically the three Dominican saints, in the small room 20 where Savonarola lived, he was beating himself with a whip, according to the Dominicans, this symbolized the will to be ascetic, and Savonarola, like the other priests, made the same prayer posture as the saints in the fresco— He whipped himself almost every day, soothing his restless ambition with pain. The face of the saint Dominigo he saw every day was calm and relieved, and in Savonarola's view, it was an affirmation, an encouragement, but today he was startled, because tears were flowing from the saint's eyes, and he settled down, and looked at it carefully, only to find that it was the dew attached to the fresco, but this bad omen still planted a seedling in his heart.

"Is the venue ready for today's lecture?" He asked.

"Alright." The monk hesitated: "But...... I'm afraid that those parents ...... "will question Savonarola about the whereabouts of their children on the spot."

Savonarola was silent for a while, he knew that he had made a mistake, the reason why he chose these ordinary and even low-born children as his servants was because although they were naïve and naïve, they had strong energy and fearless courage, and he could easily bring them under his command without worrying that they would be bribed and seduced or disobeyed, but they also had their own shortcomings - they had almost no ability to judge the situation and read words and feelings, Their behavior also became more and more rampant with his connivance, and of course, Savonarola did not think that it was any fault, that these depraved rich people, shameless prostitutes, and insidious officials should have been taught some lesson, but only to this day it occurred to him that these people, and their families, would not only open the way with gold coins, but also speak with swords, and that they would worship themselves only to expel the Medici family, which was deeply entrenched in Florence, and now the Medici family was only children, women and children. Naturally, their spearhead turned to themselves, and these children, the wings and eyes and ears of the Dominican monks, would only be the first to be exterminated.

His heart throbbed, but the ugly monk was immediately uplifted, these children, though they had fallen into the devil's trap, but even if their bodies died, their souls could reach heaven, and they were qualified to sit with the saints and angels, and those mortals should envy them, for they were already out of the world before the others. They should also be included in his speech, so that the parents will surely turn from mourning to joy, as it always is, and he knows what they are thinking, what they need, what they desire, and he can always give them.

So Savonarola came to a small square, and his speech was as fierce and sharp as ever, and he accused the Pope and the Cardinals of Rome of the depravity, and the members of the Florentine Council of slackness, and he cried out and warned the people that evil and depravity were still everywhere, and that the devil was still looking for the weak, ungodly souls in the darkness, and he painted a vivid picture of how God had sent the Great Flood on the heads of those who did not believe in God, and sent angels to destroy the evil cities, Those whom he accuses will all go to hell and scream in pain in the oil pot.

Giulio and Caesar stood side by side in the crowd, and Giulio had to admit that in an age when people were generally not well educated, Savonarola's speech was still infectious, but he should not ignore that his audience was a group of low-level civilians who were easily instigated, and they could be manipulated by him or controlled by others - and for these hungry people, the speech could not fill their stomachs, and they asked Savonarola for more favors, but how could it be, Was it possible to push for policies that were bad for the families, or because they still needed Savonarola, now? Savonarola didn't want to admit that he couldn't do anything, but he said heaven, hell, people are no longer interested, heaven, that's good, but if you can continue to live in this quagmire of the world, who would want to go? As for hell, they could not see it, and if anyone said to these poor workers that they would pay the price of hell in exchange for living like members of a prominent family, they might kill each other for it.

They waited anxiously, expecting to hear some real news, but Savonarola disappointed them, and when they waited until the end of the speech, they found that they had still found nothing, and they looked at each other, and there was silence in the square, no applause, no doubt, and in this terrible calm, there was a slight commotion at the edge of the crowd, and Savonarola saw that the people were retreating, and then there was a group of soldiers in their robes, and as the soldiers pushed them away, a wide path was opened, A blinding red suddenly jumped into the monk's eyes.

It was a cardinal.