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Hedy had now learned a little Italian, but she still struggled with the pronunciation of many long consonants.
The only fortunate thing was that Italian retained many Latin words, so when she had just arrived, she could understand half of the conversations of the neighbors.
She sat next to Da Vinci, her body slightly swaying with the bumps of the carriage, lost in thought.
Lorenzo de' Medici.
This name was one she had heard many times before at the Uffizi Gallery.
At present, he was seen by the citizens as the organizer of countless grand feasts, a shrewd ruler, the 'Magnificent Duke Lorenzo.'
Young, bold, and spending money like water.
This name seemed to flip a switch, suddenly bringing back many forgotten clues.
He would die in fourteen years, and the delicate balance painstakingly maintained between the city-states would crumble.
Soon after, King Charles II of France would invade Italy, reaching Florence.
Lorenzo's successor, Piero, would attempt to cede Pisa in exchange for peace, but was deposed by angry citizens.
Then, a madman would rise to power amid the chaos, igniting a fire of vanity in the town square.
This fire would destroy all things 'secular and pleasurable,' reducing masterpieces of poetry and art, women's mirrors and robes, even many Eastern porcelains, to ashes.
Hedy suddenly trembled.
She could not only think about how to preserve herself.
At that time, the Americas were still a wild, untamed land, and she couldn’t escape to the United States for refuge as she had in her past life. Escaping to France was also impractical—she only spoke German, English, and Latin, and the little French she knew was now completely forgotten.
Lorenzo must not die, and Florence could not fall.
If she didn’t intervene, her later life would be consumed by war and chaos, and everything could spiral into an irreversible disaster.
Da Vinci’s paintings, Mr. Botticelli himself, and the countless artworks of this city would all be lost in that calamity.
She shuddered, like a traveler suddenly awakening in a fog.
“Are you alright?” Da Vinci turned to look at her. “If you don’t want to go, it’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I’m fine, just a little cold.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her.
It was already November, and the weather was indeed growing colder.
The carriage stopped at a side door, and a servant led them to the same office as before.
This was Hedy’s first time entering the Doge’s Palace.
She hadn’t been to such a place in a long time.
The walls were coated with a cream-colored lacquer, and the gilded decorations were both elegant and exquisite.
Ancient-style paintings hung everywhere, along with many ivory-white sculptures, some of which were created by the great masters of ancient Greece.
Persian carpets were thick and soft, making no sound when stepped on.
She had once owned such a home, but that was all in her past life.
