The curator nodded. “Precisely. It seems you may be on the right track.”
He’d done some old-fashioned detective work and, together with Stefano, pieced together a theory.
In 1512 Pope Julius II did in fact borrow ten million gold florins from the Medici family, which its then-head Giuliano de’ Medici negotiated. That transaction was evidenced by a Pledge of Christ, which Julius provided with his seal and signature. A promise in perpetuity. Payable on demand. Not your ordinary promissory note. But nonetheless enforceable provided that the demand came after July 1532, twenty years after the original promise, and was made by Giuliano de’ Medici or his heirs, successors, and assigns. Two copies of the pledge existed. The church’s had been accounted for and was assumed destroyed. The Medici copy?
That was the rub.
Presumably Giuliano de’ Medici took possession of that document. But Giuliano died in 1516, sixteen years before the pledge could even be demanded. He was succeeded as family head by hisnephew Lorenzo. The mantle of power as the lord of Florence kept being passed down from Medici to Medici until Cosimo I became the first Grand Duke of Tuscany in 1569. That royal title was made possible by both the Holy Roman emperor and Pope Pius V.
Pius himself crowned Cosimo.
And a deal was made. There had to have been.
History noted that Pius V was instrumental in having the Tuscan grand duchy created. The Medicis also wanted full assurances that it would never be taken away. They had already survived two banishments from Florence. Now they wanted their power solidified.
So it was agreed.
The pledge would not be enforced so long as the duchy remained inviolate.
If this deal had not occurred then why would the Medicis, who were bankers in the business of making loans, forgo collecting what had to be the largest single debt ever created? There had to have been an agreement, especially considering that from 1475 to 1605 four separate Medicis were pope—Leo X, Clement VII, Pius IV, and Leo XI—none of whom ever moved for the Vatican to pay the debt. To keep that threat in place the Medicis had to have safeguarded their copy of the pledge, since it was their fail-safe against anyone trying to take their duchy. If that happened they could immediately invoke the help of the Roman Catholic Church, which would either have to protect the royal title or pay the debt, which was accruing at a rate of 10 percent for every year after 1532 it remained unpaid.
So where had they hidden the document?
Anna Maria wrote that—
The pledge was secured with two writings, one for Rome, the other for our family. I leave that pledge to you alone. It does not belong to the people of Florence.
So she seemed to have had the document in 1743. The next sentence in her diary was clear.It rests safely under a watchful eye and this verse will lead the way.
Which made the next verse critical.
Know the darkened world has long missed the night and day, which while the shade still hung before his eyes, shone like a guide unto steps afar. Ne’er will the sweet and heavenly tones resound, silent be the harmonies of his sweet lyre, only in Raffaello’s bright world can it be found.Auguror eveniat.
Along with the words from Raffaello de’ Pazzi’s grave.
Ne’er will the sweet and heavenly tones resound, Silent be the one nature feared, and when he was dying, feared herself to die. Forever silent be his harmonies, only in his third son’s bright world be justice found.Auguror eveniat.
Lots of clues there.
And thank goodness for the internet.
At first he’d been baffled bynow only in Raffaello’s bright world can it be found. Was that a reference to Raffaello de’ Pazzi’s grave? Yes and no. Anna Maria had been clever, recognizing the double entendre, which had taken him and Stefano a little time to see.
The answer came from the Pazzi’s grave.
Silent be the one nature feared, and when he was dying, feared herself to die.
It had taken only a few seconds of an internet search to know where Anna Maria had found those words.
From the inscription on Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino’s marble sarcophagus, placed there when he died in 1520. His name in English was much shorter. And far more well known. Raphael. One of the greatest painters and architects of the High Renaissance. The actual inscription was an elegiac distich written by another cardinal, Pietro Bembo.HERE LIES THAT FAMOUS RAPHAEL BY WHOM NATURE FEARED TO BE CONQUERED WHILE HE LIVED, AND WHEN HE WAS DYING, FEARED HERSELF TO DIE.
Anna Maria had recognized that her second husband and the great painter had the same first name. Clever her use of that coincidence.
Once he’d zeroed in on Raphael, the next link from Anna Maria’s warning thatOnly in his third son’s bright world be justice foundwas easy to decipher. Giuliano de’ Medici, who made the loan to Julius II, was a third son. And only in Raphael’s bright world canitbe found. A simple Google search had provided the final piece of the puzzle.
In 1515 Raphael was commissioned to paint a portrait of Giuliano di Lorenzo de’ Medici. It was to be sent to Philiberta of Savoy, the aunt of Francis I of France, to whom Giuliano had become engaged. The couple had not yet met, so the portrait was created to provide her an idea of his physical appearance. The match had been a political one. Pope Leo X, Giuliano’s brother, himself also Medici, was hoping to cement an alliance between the French and the papacy through marriage. At that time portraits were often part of the diplomatic arrangements for such dynastic marriages. So Giuliano sat for the painting.
They left the Room of the Jewels and walked through the various galleries. They passed through the Rooms of the Planets—Venus, Apollo, Mars, Saturn, and the last one, Jupiter.