Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven

Charles and his army rested on Godardan on the border of Tuscany. The gates of the city were full of panic of being breached. Florence crouched and went to the church to pray for safety. That Sunday, the Church of Our Lady of the Flowers was very crowded, and the stairs from the top to the bottom were full of people.Mom said it was the biggest church she'd ever seen, but I felt like we were waiting for Judgment Day. Before Savonarola stepped into the pulpit the place was humming; but when he came a dead silence fell.The greatest irony of that era was that the ugliest man in Florence turned out to be the holiest man.It must be admitted, however, that his eloquence in his sermons made one forget his dwarf stature, piercing little eyes, and aquiline nose.Like his nemesis Lorenzo de' Medici, he's ugly enough to serve as a prototype for a gargoyle.

His enemies said he was so small that in order to elevate himself he had to stand on top of Aristotle, translations and other classics that monks had brought for him so that he could stretch his legs. trampled on them.Others say he stood on a toilet, one of the few utensils his ascetic life allowed in his monastery. He stood still for a moment, grasping the sides of the altar with both hands, his eyes darting over the crowd around him. "The scriptures say that the abbot should welcome those who hear him. But I don't welcome you today!" The voice began softly, then increased word by word until it filled the church and echoed across the cupola. "Because you are here today because fear and despair are burning your soles like the fire of hell; because you long for salvation!"

"So come to me! This man you appeal to is small compared to the magnanimity of God, but God magnanimously allows him to be a sounding board. Yes, God has appeared to me, and he has given me the foresight to tell the future. Give me. The armies waiting on our borders are prophesied. That's the sword I saw hanging over the city! The wrath of God is like no other.' They will cast the silver in the streets, and the gold will look like filth. Their gold and silver will not save them in the day of the Lord's wrath.' Florence lies like the carcass of a fly-stinging brute on the burning road of God's vengeance."

Even for those well versed in the Bible, it is difficult to see how these are connected.He was lecturing hard, his turban thrown back, his nose moving back and forth like an eagle pecking at the beak of a sparrow.His preaching was more than that simple.He addresses everyone, and in his divinity, evil is the great equalizer, undermining power and wealth.He knows how to turn words into political catalysts, which is why those in power fear him. He pulled a small mirror out of his robes and held it up toward the crowd.Its angle is just right to catch the light from the candles, reflecting the church in a sparkling light. "Look at this, Florence! I hold up a mirror to your soul, and what does it reflect now? Depravity and decay! Here, once a holy city, now the streets are full of filth, and when the Biano overflows Dirty. 'Do not walk in the way of the wicked. Do not walk in the way of the wicked.' But Florence plugged her ears, and deafed to the word of God. When night fell, wild beasts came and began to fight against her soul."

Next to me, I felt Luca move in the seat.In the classroom, only the texts about killing and bloodshed held his interest.If war broke out, no matter who the enemy was, he would be eager to take part. "In every dark lane where God's light is veiled, is sin and violence! Remember the broken body of that pure young girl. That's rape and sodomy!" Burn their vile, Lord, and let their bodies be in torment and "And where there is lust, there is adultery." For the harlot's mouth drips with honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil. In the end it is bitter as wormwood, quick as a two-edged knife. She her feet into death. Her feet tread the grave.'”

Even Tommaso was listening now, knowing I was staring at him, he gave me a sideways look, and looked down. As he bowed his head, my gaze fell across the rows of seats and fell on another face.The man looked straight at me.He was so familiar that I later remembered it was the one who mentioned Greek and helped me through a dance. As Savonarola continued, there was a murmur of mourning from the church, and the wailing grew louder and louder, and I even heard Luca's throat start to crack. I looked back at the man, he was not listening to Savonarola, he was still looking at me.