Caesar looked up and smiled at Savonarola in the shadow of the red wide-brimmed hat.

Giulio handed Caesar and his own hooded cloak to his attendants, and followed Caesar forward slowly, Caesar walked up to Savonarola, reached out and pulled out a document from his sleeve, he did not rush to open it, but held it in his hand, so that everyone could see the lead seal on it, although the seal was small, but the discerning man recognized its pattern, and the uneasy muttering and cowering spread like a ripple in the crowd of onlookers, the pattern was a saint who was casting a fishing net, that is, St. Peter, It surrounds the sacred name of Alexander VI.

When Caesar's attendants shouted Caesar's identity, these people were even more hesitant, although they had also done something to hang a bishop on the tower during the riot, and their hearts were filled with the rebellious thoughts of Savonarola, but who did not know that the current Pope Alexander VI was Rodrigo. Borgia and Caesar were his public bastards, not to mention the outnumbered, strong, tall, armored, sharp-armed soldiers with cold eyes that apparently didn't care to kill one or two powerless civilians.

"Are you going to murder me?" Savonarola asked hoarsely.

"I am here to judge you on the orders of Pope Alexander VI." Caesar replied.

"You don't have that qualification," Savonarola smiled weakly but contemptuously, "even if you are clothed in a red robe, you are still an illegitimate child, and your appointment is ridiculous, funny, despicable, and blasphemous, and you, and your father, will go to hell for it." ”

"Look at this mouth," Caesar said in a soft voice, "no wonder some say that the devil is always clever with his tongue." ”

"Are we going to arrest him right away?" The attendant beside Caesar stepped forward and asked in a low voice.

"If he does," Caesar shook his head, "he's going to be a saint." He glanced at Giulio, who gave him a look of affirmation, and Caesar turned to Savonarola: "You have always claimed to be a prophet sent by God to Florence, then, I think, you will not be afraid to accept a holy trial." ”

Savonarola glanced at the dark populace, he wanted to see angry or unhappy faces, but he saw only doubts and eagerness, a look he had seen many times in Florence, from Pache to Medici, who seemed to have inherited a lot of Roman blood from them, and who were always in high anticipation and excitement when there was a play or a gladiatorial battle.

"I don't believe you," said Savonarola, "and you are the son of the devil." ”

"Do you not believe it, or do you not dare?" Caesar sarcastically asked: "You claim before everyone that you are under the favor of God, that you can hear his voice, and that you do his will, and that you should also be protected by him, and that you are not afraid of mortal swords, fire, and water." Are you afraid that we will prove that you are just a liar, not even a prophet of God, but a messenger of the devil? ”

Savonarola did not continue to entangle with Caesar, his power was never among the nobles, he once again glanced at his followers, hoping that one of them would come out and rebuke the Romans who had stopped these degenerates, and his eyes finally fell on a dusty, mournful wool washer, Savonarola remembered him, a warrior among the commoners, who believed in him as if he were a saint on the earth, and sure enough, he also raised his head and looked at Savonarola, But his opening sentence caused Savonarola's heart to fall into the ice cave, and he asked, "What about my child?" Monk? ”

It was then that Savonarola suddenly remembered that the wool washer had entrusted him with all three of his sons, and that he had little memory of them, all of whom were the same, with small yellow faces, excited and shining eyes, crisp voices, pious thoughts, meek lambs, but with sharp little horns, for whom he had sharpened those who were wicked...... Savonarola jerked his head up, and a lion that was often seen in Florence fell into his eyes, ah, he was wrong, he saw that the lions were asleep, and ordered the lambs to watch over them, but forgot that as long as the lions opened their mouths, the lambs were just a piece of meat in their mouths.

He looked at the wool washer, his throat seemed to be choked with dirty and greasy wool, and he tried his best to control his trembling, and turned to Caesar: "I am willing to accept the Holy Judgment." ”

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There is not only one way of the Holy Judgment, for example, the notorious "Holy Judgment of Water" is one of them, of course, for the clergy, this method of sinking is death, floating up is also death, and the way of eating a piece of bread does not seem to be put into Caesar's choice, the way he chose is very dangerous, but also the most convincing - the Holy Judgment of Fire.

There are also two ways to judge fire, one is to walk over the red-hot charcoal fire or to hold on to the red-hot coal, and the other is more powerful, people will set up a continuous pile of wood, and the recipient of the holy judgment needs to walk through it and be burned by the flames. Savonarola has no doubt at all that Caesar will only choose the latter, after all, the former way is easy to manipulate, if he passes the Holy Judgment, then he will truly become a saint recognized by the gods, and this ending is not what Borgia and the Medici want to see. He prayed with great devotion and fasted for seven days, and whipped himself with a whip, but before the judgment he ate a lot of fish and eggs, for Savonarola had also tried witches, witches, and he knew that in such a judgment it was necessary to have great strength and a strong will—he knelt naked before the icon, trembling and his eyes closed, and he kept recalling the past, before he had heard the call of the heavens, the old face of his father, the sad look of his mother, And the maiden who led him to this sacred path...... His tongue beat against his gums, the name came out of his throat, but he endured, he didn't want to add undue impurities to his prayers, he expected God to take refuge in him, as he had always believed, that while walking in the fire, angels came down from heaven to praise the good and punish the wicked.

He didn't even dare to wonder if he had really made a mistake, he stood up, and put on his coarse linen undergarment, then the usual dark tunic of the Dominican friars, with chains around his waist, and he put on moccasins with wooden soles, and though Savonarola firmly believed that he was a pious man, he was still afraid of the flames that might fall at his side and feet.

Almost all the Florentine citizens gathered in Piazza della Signoria, which extended in the 13th and 14th centuries, and walked on the ruins of those lost families, surrounded by a fine loggia, with empty pedestals and blank walls, where three fires had been erected a few months earlier, at the call of Savonarola, and burned nearly half of the Florentine wealth, although at that time everyone thought it was a sin, and they even danced around the fire, but how much they respected and loved this monk at that time, Now how much they hated and disgusted him, and after the merchants under the control of the Florentine nobles reminded them that those things that were consumed by the flames could not only be a symbol of vanity, but also their (and probably only) property, and the excitement of Savonarola's speeches and incitements finally cleared their heads, and the specious evidence made them wonder if they had been deceived, even if they did not see what belonged to them, but their friends, brothers, and elders did "take it back" Portraits, silk scarves, lace, pins, etc., that should have been buried in the flames...... Although they may not have really handed over anything to Savonarola, or at least not the value they took, immediate interests and empty consciences were always the simplest choice questions, their wives in rags, their children starving—these people deliberately ignored that their selfish actions directly crucified Savonarola, the monks they had once worshipped, to the cross of sinners.

The members of the Florentine Council stood in one place with a relaxed expression, and from time to time they turned their heads sideways to laugh and laugh, their dresses, even the women, maintained the simplicity and seriousness that Savonarola revered, and it was dark and dreary as far as the eye could see, but these were only the last few days, and when this holy judgment was over, Florence would soon return to its original prosperity, and under those rough linens was warm, delicate, soft cashmere cloth, and lanolin had already filled the makeup boxes of their mothers, wives and daughters, They had planned for a busy winter for the workers, and they would roll out these precious luxuries next spring, wrestling the initiative of trade from the British, the French, and the idiots of the Low Countries.

Carboni looked at the dark sky, and then at the gray and black crowd, the Piazza della Signoria looked so empty and monotonous after the statues and portraits were removed, the only bright colors here were the clothes of the Borgia cardinal, and the Archbishop Lucca beside him, and he also saw the solemn-looking inquisitors, and the soldiers in the cross robes - it was sometimes rumored that Pope Alexander VI had his own army, but in Carbony's opinion, they were more than that, He also saw that the monks were praying for Savonarola, but also for themselves, and if Savonarola was judged to be a liar, then they too would face a catastrophe. He also saw the lower and middle classes who had once regarded Savonarola as a prophet sent by God to the world, with a sad look on their faces and a little hope that if Savonarola proved to be a saint, their sacrifice would not be worthless, at least.

The pyre had been placed, a path of death that ran through the Place della Signoria, doused with creamy grease, and the Templars glanced at Caesar, took the torch from his retinue, and threw it out.

Immediately the flames burned violently, from one end of the square to the other. After just a few breaths, people couldn't help but retreat one after another, lest they be burned by the flying sparks in their hair and clothing. Several priests walked over to inspect Savonarola's clothes to make sure they didn't have anything like the devil's incantation written on them.

Savonarola muttered to himself, and suddenly, his panic turned away from him, and even the noise of the audience faded away, and a ray of sunlight fell from the gray clouds, shining right on his ugly face, and he threw his head up, almost in tears, and the Dominican monk seemed to hear God's call again, and he was already sure that he was chosen, and without hesitation, he strode towards the fire, the burning wood creaked under his feet—the people shouted, When they saw Savonarola walking in the fire, their knees went limp, could they really slander a saint?

Caesar's fingers tightened, and even the Templars and priests he brought with him were in a state of unease as Savonarola walked a third of the way. The Medici remained calm, and just as Caesar could not help but look at him, he pointed to the square, "Look," said the young Medici, "he is burning." ”

Yes, Savonarola's good fortune finally came to an end, and the flames first licked the corners of his robe, and then up the robe, and the monk also noticed it, and he first walked quickly, and then ran, but no matter what, it could not match the speed of the flames, and in the blink of an eye, he became a burning man.

The screams pierced the sky, but it was not clear whether they were angry, frightened, or joyful. Some of the fragile people even fainted.

A genuine smile finally appeared on Caesar's face.

The servants threw the prepared water and sand into the fire, and the two fully armored Templars were to be lifted up by the burnt-black, dying Savonarola and pulled out of the fire, his face and hands burned with terrible, continuous blisters. Caesar was about to announce the "excommunication", but Giulio, seemingly curious, bent down, pulled up the coarse linen robe that Savonarola had miraculously kept, cut off a piece of clothing with his dagger, and threw it into the flames with his own hands, and it was discovered that the cloth did not catch fire.

"What's going on?" Carboni asked, "It can't be said that God blessed Savonarola's clothes but not himself."

"The Shroud of the Devil's Believers." "He cheated, and the clothes mixed with this mineral fiber had the effect of protecting against flames," Giulio said. ”

Carboni took the garment and passed it on to the others, they experimented with it, and then showed angry expressions, whether real or fake, and soon their attendants rode around the square, showing the fabric to the civilians, and the originally very low drum noise suddenly became loud, accompanied by hysterical cries and cries of despair, Savonarola's former followers stretched their fists and nails at Savonaro, and if it weren't for the soldiers of the various families fighting to stop them, perhaps Savonarola would have been torn to pieces before the trial.