Chapter 8 Chapter VII

Machiavelli didn't need much sleep, he woke up soon after the sun rose.He called Piero over to help him dress.The riding clothes were in the saddle bag, and he put on his usual black clothes.He had no intention of remaining in the monastery, but needed to go to the barracks--there, if necessary, he could receive visitors in secret; and in the monastery, who visited him, and his every move would be observed.The courier is already on his way back to Florence.Accompanied by Piero, Machiavelli went to the Golden Lion Hotel.Imola is a small sunny city, and it can't be seen that the king's flag on the top of the city has just been changed not long ago.They walked through the narrow winding streets, passing many people.People went about their business and seemed content.You can get the impression that their quality of life hasn't changed.From time to time, pedestrians had to make way for riders or teams of donkeys laden with firewood.A man was wandering along leading some female donkeys—the milk of which is good for pregnant women—announcing his arrival with the usual hawking noise.A shriveled, ugly old woman suddenly poked her head out of a window and yelled at the man leading the donkey.The man stopped, and a moment later, the old woman appeared at the door of the house with a beaker.A peddler of needlework, ribbons, and the like came down the street, calling out his wares in a hoarse voice.There are shops on both sides of the street, and the Golden Lion Hotel is located among them.In a harness store, a customer makes a purchase; in a barbershop, someone gets a haircut; in a shoe store, a woman tries on a new pair of shoes.The small town is not considered rich, but it is filled with a prosperous and comfortable atmosphere.There are no beggars to pester you in the streets.

They entered the Hotel Lion d'Or, and Machiavelli ordered bread and wine for himself and Piero.They soaked the bread in wine to make it even more delicious and then dried off the rest of the red wine.After eating and drinking, and feeling refreshed, they went to the barber shop, where Machiavelli wanted a shave.The barber sprayed his short, dark hair with a rich-scented hair lotion and brushed him.At the same time, Piero stroked his bare chin, looking thoughtful. "I think I need a shave too, Monsieur Niccolo," he said. "We'll have to wait a few more weeks." Machiavelli smiled slightly, then turned to the barber, "spray some perfume on his head and comb his hair."

The two tidied themselves up.Machiavelli asked the barber where a gentleman named Bartolomeo Martelli lived, and he wanted to pay a visit.The barber gave them directions, but it was so hard to find that Machiavelli asked if he could have someone take them there.The barber went to the door of the shop, and called to him an urchin who was playing in the street, and told him to show two strangers the way.The way they were going was across the Grand Place, where the palace occupied by the duke lay.It's market day, so the square is full of stalls from farmers who come to town to sell fruit, vegetables, cheese, chicken and other meats.Also, there are stalls of merchants who sell copper, iron, cloth, old clothes, and the like.A large group of people bargaining, either to buy or just to look, was full of voices and noise.It all looked joyous and boisterous in the bright October sun.Just as Machiavelli and Piero entered the square, there was a sudden wailing of brass horns, and the noise suddenly decreased a lot.

"It's the herald." The little boy shouted excitedly. He took Machiavelli's hand and ran, "I haven't heard him speak yet." A group of people rushed forward, and Machiavelli looked in their direction.At the other end of the square, there is a gallows with two people hanging from it, which is nothing to see.The little boy broke free from his hand suddenly, he forgot his errand, and ran towards that lively place.The herald was beginning to speak loudly, but Machiavelli was too far away to hear what he was saying.He impatiently asked a pudgy woman looking at the stall:

"What happened? What was the herald saying?" She shrugged. "Just two thieves, hanged. The duke orders that the heralds come every half-hour until noon, and tell them that these two men were hanged for stealing from the townspeople. They are said to be French soldiers. " Machiavelli almost jumped up, but he controlled himself.He suspected this thing, it can't happen!He decided to go and see for himself.He strode forward, pushing and pushing, and finally made his way through the crowd.Now his eyes were fixed on the two hanging corpses.The herald had finished his speech, stepped down from the gallows stand, and walked away with no expression on his face.The crowd dispersed quite a bit, and Machiavelli could lean forward.There was no doubt that, despite the frightful contortions of the faces made by the noose, it was indeed the two Gascon soldiers, the older soldier with the sullen face and the scar on his head, and the younger soldier with the treacherous eyes.It was last night that they were brought here, tried by the duke, and sentenced.That said, this isn't exactly a comedy.Machiavelli stood motionless, staring, frustrated.His little guide touched his arm.

"I wish I could have seen them when they were hanged," he said ruefully. "It's all over before I know how." "Children don't read it," said Machiavelli, who hardly knew what he was talking about, and his mind was full of thoughts. "It's happened before," the little boy grinned. "It's fun to watch them float in the air!" "Piero!" "Here I am, sir." "Come here, boy, and take us to Monsieur Bartolomeo's." For the rest of the way, Machiavelli frowned and pressed his lips together so tightly that his mouth became a twisted line.He said nothing, just walked on, trying to figure out what was going on in Valentino's head, how he had hanged two soldiers who could be used--they were just stealing. A few pieces of silver, a crime like this would be enough for a whipping at best.Human life did not matter to him, but it is incredible that he was so keen to win the confidence of the people of Imola that he was willing to risk the anger of the commander of the Gascon army. Not afraid of the wrath of the entire Gascon army.Machiavelli was puzzled.He was sure that his presence at that moment would be of some use to the Duke in accomplishing his purpose.Otherwise, even if he took the pains to handle the matter himself, he would have waited to finish the negotiations—the important negotiations with the Florentine envoy.Did he mean to tell the ruling body that he was independent of France, and that, in spite of the rebellion of the chiefs, he was strong enough not to be afraid of displeasing the king of France; Was it his thinly veiled threat when Fiorentina was sold safely that this was at the root of what he did?Who could tell what was going on in the mind of this ruthless and cunning man?

"Sir, this is the adults' home." The little boy said suddenly. Machiavelli gave him a coin, and the naughty boy hopped away.Piero shook the brass ring on the door.After a while, he went up and knocked on the door again.Machiavelli noticed that the house was large, and it was evident that the owner of the house was a wealthy man.The windows on the second floor, that is, the main floor, were not covered with oiled paper like ordinary people, but with glass.This shows that the owner of the house is indeed wealthy.