Francesk. Sibo barged in, perhaps just to vent his anger at being despised and alienated by his wife, but when he saw Giulio. Medici, his expression changed suddenly: "Look what I found!" My wife, and a man! He viciously drew the short knife at his waist, which was common in the Ottoman Turkish Empire in European possessions, and the young people of Rome wore it as a practical ornament because of its ornate scabbard, silver and gold handle, and Damascus steel blade. For a cowardly and despicable man like Francesk, this dagger could have been used more than to cut mutton at banquets, and some, as it is now, to intimidate and deter unarmed women and children. "I'm going to kill you, hang you naked out the window, and let your intestines flow out like a flag!"

"Stop talking nonsense!" Madeleine shouted, bravely holding Giulio behind her: "This is my brother, Giulio of Medici, whom you have seen at the wedding ceremony!" ”

Francesche scoffed at this: "Slut! He straightened his neck and shouted, "Do you know how many indulgences my father can sell every day?!" At least a dozen, dear! I guess one of you is missing! ”

Madeleine was dizzy, she thought she had an extremely deep understanding of Francesque's brazenness, but it turned out to be far from it, when a pair of powerful arms caught her and handed her to the maid beside her.

A sparse eyebrow was raised by Francesk, who was already an adult and not very tall, but who was also five feet seven inches, while the nine-year-old Giulio was only four feet three inches.

If Francesc was still confident in his height, he could add his weight, the abundance of fat and unbridled drinking made him unusually fat, and if he was skinned, he could fit three Giulios, and worst of all, Giulio had come to visit his sister, and he had only a short dagger by his side. But Giulio didn't want to try his swordsmanship with Francesk at all, he lowered his body slightly, held his wrists together, and turned the tip of his left elbow outward, and the tip of his toe was forced, and he rushed outward—the difference in their height made Francesk feel safe, and it also gave Giulio a wonderful opportunity, his elbow hit Franchesk's upper abdomen, the abdominal nerve group that would only be known by dissection and experiment hundreds of years later, even if it was hindered by fat, Giulio's blow still brought great fear to Francesk - the sharp, suffocating pain made him think he had been stabbed with a dagger, and he pleaded loudly, hoping that his enemies would spare his life.

Without saying a word, Julio pressed his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe, and punched him several times in succession - after the maids exclaimed, "Don't kill him!" Giulio stood up from Franchisk: "Get ready," he said, "Let's get out of here." "Francesk's actions today have shown that this place is no longer a deterrent to him, so why let Madeleine live in such a place that could easily tarnish his reputation.

Madeleine was silent, quickly regrouped, and disappeared into the twilight with the maids.

Francesk. Sibo woke up at noon the next day, sleeping on a bed with a blanket and his mouth full of wine, and he leaned back on the pillow, trying for a while to remember what had happened yesterday, and he was furious and rushed into Castel Sant'Angelo, complaining incessantly to his father.

Innocent VIII was a gloomy, thin old man, he was sick, so many affairs in the Holy See were entrusted to Lovere and Borgia, but this did not mean that he was not ambitious, and would not fight for the glory and authority that belonged to him, and he had been trying to reorganize the crusade for the Ottoman Turks in recent months, for which he sent no less than ten emissaries, but never heard back from any of the archdukes or kings, for which he was restless for a long time.

"You're hurt?" The Pope asked in a flat tone.

Frankiske snapped, he remembered that his abdomen had ached violently, but when he woke up, he lifted his clothes and saw that there was no trace of injury.

"But," he said, "it's Julio. Medici ......"

The Pope looked at the ceiling and muttered words that should not have come from a holy father, and then he looked at his son again: "Julio. How old is the Medici? ”

His voice was very soft, but Francesk couldn't help but shudder, "Eight years old...... No, ten years old? ”

"So you know he's not eighteen, or twenty-eight." The Pope said, then pointed out the door: "Get out." ”

Emotionally, Innocent VIII did not favor the Medici, but he needed the Medici very much right now.