The Poet Prince (28 page)

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth—no! I have not given myself to you completely, although there is nothing more in the world that I long to do. But Lorenzo, he will forbid me to see you anymore. He is sending me into the city to stay, so that I cannot be tempted by you and our forest. What will we do? I cannot bear to be without you and Sandro and the Maestro . . .”

He hugged her hard and allowed her to cry, stroking her hair as
he soothed her. “It’s all right, Colombina. You will never be without me. I will think of something.”

At the moment, he was at a loss for what that something might be. But he wasn’t born into the Medici family for nothing.

“Lorenzo, it is out of the question.” Piero de’ Medici was firm in his assertions to his son. Madonna Lucrezia looked on, distressed, as the confrontation continued. “We cannot make enemies out of the Donati family. They are powerful and revered, not only in Florence but throughout Italy.”

“Then allow me to marry her.”

“It is impossible, my son.” Piero was exasperated. He too was a Medici and as such did not like to lose in any endeavor, and this was one they were sure to lose. “The Donati will not even consider it. Do you not think I raised it as an option? He all but spit on me. We are merchant class to them and always will be. They will not allow their daughter to marry any man who does not carry a noble name. They are narrow people of the old ways.”

“She is an Expected One.” Lorenzo pressed his case. “And you know what the Libro Rosso says. ‘When the Expected One and the Poet Prince are reunited, they shall alter the course of the world in their coming together. Just as Solomon and Sheba, they shall discover the secrets of God and man and work tirelessly in their mission to bring heaven to earth.’ ”

“Her family does not believe that. They do not even understand what that is, and if we attempted to explain it, they would be at the doors of Careggi with torches demanding our heads as heretics. Think, Lorenzo, think. We have too much to lose, and not just for ourselves. We must protect the Order and our mission. We cannot risk those things even if they mean sacrificing your happiness.”

“Then what use are the teachings of the Order?”

“Lorenzo!” Madonna Lucrezia could not hide her shock. She had never seen him be disrespectful of their spiritual traditions.

“I want an answer, Mother. If the Book of Love teaches that Colombina and I were made for each other by God at the dawn of time, and that what God has put together no man can separate, then why? Why are we being separated?”

Piero attempted to answer. “The teachings of Our Lord also tell us to love our neighbors above all, and the Donati are our neighbors. They threaten war upon us and all we hold dear if we do not honor them by keeping you away from their child. And so we must.”

Lucrezia tried a softer tactic. “Lorenzo, I understand that you believe the Donati girl is your soul’s own twin. Young love can feel very strong. But—”

“I
know
she is my soul’s own twin, Mother. And she knows it. And Fra Francesco knows it. So someone needs to make me understand why, through time, so much true love has been kept apart. Why are all the great love stories about pain and separation? I don’t want to be one of those stories. I want to change them. I want to shift the model for the universe. Isn’t that what I am meant to do? Isn’t that why I was born under this gilded prophecy that imprisons me each day of my life?”

“Oh, Lorenzo! How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true, Mother.”

Piero responded, “Sometimes, my son, it is our obligation to be noble before it is our obligation to be happy. Keeping peace with the Donati affects every single family in Florence. We cannot return to the blood feuds that we have spent so many years trying to eliminate. If we go to war, the city will be divided and there will be bloodshed and strife among Florentines for generations to come. You and I both know that we cannot allow that to happen.”

They all stopped talking when they saw that Cosimo had appeared at the doorway, looking gray and deathly. And yet even though he was days away from dying, he stood unaided and his voice was strong. He dismissed Piero and Lucrezia kindly but firmly, indicating that he desired to speak to his grandson privately. He moved Lorenzo to the set
tee and sat beside him. His bones creaked as he did so, but he did not seem to notice. As always, Cosimo was singularly focused when he had a mission.

“Lorenzo, I want you to think of some of the leaders of the Order from our history. The great Matilda was secretly married to the pope! They could not be together publicly, ever, throughout their eventful and important lives. And yet they found ways to nurture their love away from the eyes of the world.”

“What are you saying, Grandfather? That I should make Colombina my mistress just as her father fears?”

“I am saying that true love finds a way, Lorenzo. I ache for you, my boy. It breaks my heart to know that you may never understand real happiness and contentment because you cannot be with the woman you believe was made for you by God. So I am saying that you must find a way to be with her. And she with you. And you must look outside the rules that society has created for you. God didn’t create these rules. Men did. The Church did. And whose rules will you choose to follow? God’s? Or man’s? You say you want to break the outmoded patterns and create a new model? Then do it. That is part of your destiny, boy.”

Cosimo paused for a moment to catch his breath, contemplating for a moment before continuing. “I realize today that I have never told you the story of my own Magdalena, the beautiful woman who is Carlo’s mother.”

Carlo was Cosimo’s illegitimate son, born of his scandalous liaison with a Circassian slave girl. Cosimo’s wife, Contessina, had taken the boy into her household and treated him with great kindness so that he could be raised as a Medici and carry the family name. She had never once complained or been seen to treat Carlo poorly. But it was an unspoken law within the household that Carlo’s origins were not discussed. The fact that he was darker of skin and eyes than the other boys was a constant reminder that he came from a different origin.

“I do not speak of it within the family, as it is a great upset to your grandmother. But it is time for you to know the truth, my boy. Carlo’s mother is my greatest joy, and my greatest pain. She is the love of my
life; she is my perfect mate. And yet she is a foreign-born slave whom I can never acknowledge. Tell me, Lorenzo, what was God thinking? Why would God create someone for me so perfect, and then make it impossible for us to be together?”

Lorenzo was stunned. He had thought he understood Cosimo more deeply than anyone else, and yet he was discovering now that there was an entire layer to his grandfather’s life, and character, that he had never suspected.

“I met her while staying in Lucca on a negotiation many years ago. She was a house slave for a noble couple there. While she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, I was relieved to see that the man of the house did not seem to notice. I believe, at the end of the day, that he preferred men to women. As a result, the girl had never been abused by a man, at least not since she had been sold into this family. She was well treated and of good humor. And as she had been in Tuscany for a few years, her command of the language was good. Excellent even. I realized quickly that this was no ignorant slave. She had a mind and a spirit for learning unlike any I had ever seen in a woman. There was a humor that flashed in her eyes and a wisdom that was beyond her years and her origins.

“I stayed in that house for a week but later continued to find reasons to go back there. It was after doing this for several months that I realized I was hopelessly, completely, and utterly in love. Worse, I also understood that this woman was ‘my own soul’s twin’ as is spoken of by the Order, and taught in the Book of Love. But how? Why? And I realized, ultimately, that it didn’t matter. God had put her here and I had found her, and now it was up to me to determine whether or not I could be with her. And the rules of the game—the noblesse, the politics, all of it—said that I could not. I was married to Contessina. I had children. And I was Cosimo de’ Medici.”

He paused to let the enormity of these revelations sink in for Lorenzo before continuing.

“But what God has put together, let no man separate. And so, I purchased the girl from the family in Lucca for three times the price she
would have been worth on the open market. I bought her a house in Fiesole, and I installed her there as my mistress, where she is to this day. And I refused to refer to her by the name of a slave and began to call her Maria Magdalena, as she was my Queen of Compassion. When the strife of Florentine politics closed in on me, I could escape to my Magdalena and find comfort.

“It killed me to take baby Carlo away from her. Do you not think
that she wanted to raise our son? But she also wanted what was best for him and knew that giving him to the family was the greatest gift she could bestow upon him. And so, Lorenzo, my Magdalena and I have known great pain and suffering, and yet . . . I wouldn’t trade my moments with her for anything in the world. She is my muse, and my greatest love. And one day, when the time returns, we will be together in a different way, if God wills it and it serves the mission.”

Lorenzo was speechless for a moment. He chewed on his lip as he considered everything Cosimo had just revealed before asking, “What would you do if you were in my place, Grandfather?”

Cosimo’s answer was quick and utterly without hesitation. “I would find her a husband.”

“What?” Lorenzo practically screeched his response. Cosimo looked annoyed.

“Stop thinking like a broken-hearted boy and start thinking like a prince. Like a Medici prince. You must outplay your enemy. Yours must always be the strategy that looks a year ahead—two years, five years. The Donati will not allow you to see their daughter, and as long as she is under her father’s control, he may dictate every step that she takes. This is a fact. How do you change that fact? By altering the circumstances to suit you better. Parental control is nonexistent once she becomes a married woman. A Florentine matron, particularly one of the Donati’s social stature, can make her own decisions about how she spends her time. And while she will not be able to frolic with you in Careggi any longer, there is no reason that she cannot become the closest of all friends with the noble Gianfigliazza family. Indeed, that lovely Ginevra is always putting on some kind of charity event, which is a very accept
able pastime for a young, rich married woman the likes of Lucrezia Donati. And this would require her to spend ample time at the Antica Torre in Santa Trinità. Are you hearing me, my boy?”

Lorenzo nodded. He didn’t like it, but it was beginning to sink in. He was learning every day to think and act more like a Medici.

That night, Lorenzo went home and put ink to page, working through his sadness through his art, which was his poetry. He wrote the early lines of what would become known as one of his greatest works, a poem called “Triumph.”

How sweet is youth
But it does quickly speed away!
Let he who would be happy, be so
Because tomorrow is so uncertain.
Tomorrow is so uncertain.

Cosimo had been ailing for a very long time. The gout, which was the great curse of Medici men for many generations, had taken its toll as it invaded his body during the last year, making movement of any kind difficult. He was irritable with his discomfort, but more with the idea that there was still so much to do and so little time left in which to do it.

When Cosimo knew that the end was very near, he gathered his family around him at the villa in Careggi, one at a time, to say his good-byes—and to issue his final instructions. Cosimo’s dearest and most trusted friend, Poggio Bracciolini, was a co-creator of the Platonic community in Florence as well as a key member of the Order. He and Cosimo had spent countless hours together over two decades, influencing Florentine society to become more learned, more tolerant, and more artistic. Together they were the essential humanists, and the inspiration of a new world, which was approaching through their lead
ership in Tuscany. Poggio came to read to him from the history of Florence that he had composed himself, in Latin.