Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rome, Oct. 30, 1501

The carriage arrived at exactly 3 p.m. Freshly shorn and shaved and wearing a new doublet that he had purchased for the occasion, Michelangelo had to admit to himself that he was excited. During the ride to St. Peter’s he speculated on what kind of ball the pope might possibly be hosting.

Upon arriving, he was escorted by Father Ferrante into the papal chambers. This time, however, they moved deeper into the building. Finally, he found himself in an enormous room where the pontiff was waiting for him.

“It’s so good to see you again, my son,” exclaimed the pope jovially. “Are you looking forward to this evening? I must admit that that I am.”

Looking around, Michelangelo saw that three enormous tables, each capable of seating at least 40 people, had been arranged in a gigantic U in the center of the room. Across the open end of the U was a smaller table at which 10 might be seated comfortably. That table was actually blocking the main doors to the room, and it appeared to sit on a dais that one reached by climbing three steps, so it was somewhat higher than the others.

On each of the tables were several candelabra as well as a glistening display of silverware, cups and plates.

Michelangelo also noticed that various divans and settees had been scattered about the room, as well as what seemed to be hundreds of loose, oversized pillows. He further observed that there were large torches in every possible holder and that several braziers had been placed in various spots throughout the room.

Gazing up, he saw various curtains, all of which were furled at the moment, suspended from the ceiling. Next to each was a rope that when pulled would release it, so that when it fell, the person in that area was assured a modicum of privacy. He also noticed a number of elaborately decorated paper bags hanging by ropes from the ceiling near the table on the dais. Although they were much closer to the floor than the hanging screens, he could not even begin to fathom their purpose.

“What is this room?” he asked the pontiff.

“This is the biggest salon in the papal apartments. Normally, I hold papal audiences here, and meet with ambassadors and the assembled Curia,” the pope replied, “but I have cleared my schedule for the next few days so that we might enjoy ourselves, even as we consider the reach of our office. Come, let us have some light refreshments now. Dinner will not be served for several hours and this promises to be a long night.”

Turning around, Michelangelo saw that two trifold screens had been set up in the furthest corners of the room. In the center of each of the three sections of the screens were small grilles.

Pointing to them, Michelangelo asked, “What are they, your Holiness?”

Looking, the pope laughed, “They are temporary confessionals, though I rather doubt they will get much use tonight. You will be installed behind the one on the left, and my ceremoniere, Johannes Burchard, will be ensconced behind the other. Should anyone desire penance from you, you can either hear their confession and grant them absolution, or you may tell them you are too busy - they will understand, I assure you - and to go see the other priest. If you should choose the former, I only ask that you make certain those confessing are given short shrift.”

“Remember, too, there is a Franciscan robe in your confessional; don it before the ball and no one will question your authority. I will make certain that the servants provide you with food, drink and anything else you may require over the course of the night.”

At that moment, Lucrezia entered the room. In a gown of royal blue with her hair coiffed, she looked almost ethereal. She kissed her father and then gave Michelangelo a warm smile before she said, “Signore Buonarotti, so good to see you again.”

“Have you two met?” the pope asked.

“Oh father! I told you I rode to his house the day after you showed me the cameo. I wanted to thank him in person,” she said.

“Did you?” asked the pope. “It must have slipped my mind. We are just going to enjoy a small repast, my dear. Would you care to join us?”

“I would be delighted,” she replied.

“As they walked down the hall, behind the pope, Lucrezia winked at Michelangelo and flashed him a knowing smile.

Michelangelo thought, “She is a vixen - best be on my guard.”

As they sat at table, chatting about art and sundry other matters, Lucrezia suddenly broke a momentary silence by asking, “Does he know the details of the ball yet, father?” “No, my dear. I want that to be my special surprise. Signore, you have already told me that you are not easily shocked. I hope that is still the case.”

“It is, Your Holiness” replied Michelangelo.

“Well, I will tell you this, signore. Tonight, we shall find out just what it takes to unnerve the accomplished Michelangelo. All I ask is that you remain behind your screen for the first few hours. Once the activities begin, if you should desire to participate, feel free. If you opt to refrain, I will understand that as well.”

“I understand, Your Holiness,” said Michelangelo,

“And you have my word that I will abide by your command.”

“Excellent. Now you must excuse me, I have some last-minute details to attend to. Lucrezia, will you entertain our guest until for a while? I know you must get ready as well. I shall see where Cesare is and what he is up to; perhaps he will be able to relieve you.”

“Thank you, father, but I’m certain that won’t be necessary. My dress has been chosen and it will take me but a few minutes to change. I will keep Signore Buonarotti company and then see that he is comfortable in his confessional before I go to get ready.”

“I shall meet you and Cesare on the other side of the main doors at 8 and then we shall make our grand entrance.” “And promise me that you will not divulge any details? And that means no hints as well,” the pope scolded her playfully.

“Not even one?” she pleaded.

The pope looked at Michelangelo and asked, “How could anyone refuse her?” Turning his attention back to Lucrezia, he said, “Here is what you may tell Michelangelo.” The pope leaned over and whispered in her ear. Giggling, she said, “Father, you are terrible!”

“Promise me, Lucrezia,” he exhorted.

“I promise,” she said.

Left alone, Michelangelo looked at Lucrezia and said, “What have I gotten myself into?”

“I promise that no harm will come to you signore artista. After all,” she laughed, “if something should happen to you, who would paint the next portrait of me?”

And so they continued with light banter, and then suddenly Lucrezia said, “It is nearly twilight. Let me escort you to your confessional, father.”

As they walked in silence, Michelangelo began one final assessment of the situation. He was in the papal palace, there by the invitation of and under the protection of Pope Alexander. He was to be hidden and disguised, for he had already decided to wear the Franciscan robe. Outside of the papal family and his few friends, the only other person who knew he was attending was Cardinal della Rovere. And while that was certainly cause for concern, it seemed as though every precaution had been taken to shield him. What could possibly occur that could place him in danger?

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucrezia, who said, “We are here, Michelangelo. He realized that he must have walked in silence for several minutes and now he was standing before the trifold screen behind which he was to spend the evening.

Walking behind it, Lucrezia emerged from the other side and said, “The robe and sandals are there. It has been stocked with wine and water as well as a selection of dried fruit and cured meats, should you get hungry.”

Stepping behind it, Michelangelo saw everything as she had described it. He also noticed a plush chair, paper and charcoals and against the back wall, a small divan.

“I don’t think I shall be sleeping,” he said to Lucrezia. “Should we move this out into the main room?”

“No,” she replied, “Father insisted that it be put there. Anyway, you may get weary.”

“I suppose you are right,” he said.

When he turned around, he realized that she was kneeling because he could see the outline of her face through one of the grilles. “I should like to make my confession, Father Buonarotti,” she said. Before he could speak, she continued, “It has been two days since my last confession, and I regret that I have but one hint to give you, Father.”

“I had almost forgotten,” he said.

“Are you familiar with Dante?” she asked.

“Somewhat,” he replied.

“Consider then the second circle of the ‘Inferno,’” and with that she stood and skipped out of the room, laughing.

Michelangelo thought about her words but could find no context for them. He decided that she had either misheard her father or the pope needed to re-read Dante.

After all, the Curia was coming to the papal palace for dinner and a ball, and Dante’s second circle contained those who had yielded to the sin of lust.