generous neckline clearly visible, preciously bordered by a black gamurra, which clung perfectly to her turgid breast and fell to her feet holding the soft form of that admired and desired body. She let most of her blond curls fall lose on her shoulders, while only a small part was expertly gathered in a long braid enriched with cords and very small pearls. A few rebellious locks framed that harmonious, fresh, radiant, ethereal face. Her eyes were large and melancholy, very sensual, at least as far as could be seen from the faint smile on her velvety, parted red lips, highlighted by the a small dimple on her chin, the same red color as the day.
If I had not had the disastrous news of her death shortly after, I would still believe she was a goddess embodied in a perfect feminine shell.
Everyone held that she had only one flaw: she already had a husband… rightly jealous. At only sixteen she had married the banker Marco Vespucci, in Genoa in the presence of the doge and all the aristocracy of the maritime republic.
She was very much loved by society (and at the same time envied); in those years she had become the favorite muse of many writers and artists, among them the painter Sandro Botticelli, a longtime friend of the Medici family, who had fallen in love with her platonically and painted her portraits everywhere: even on the banner that he had made for the carousel of that year, epically won by Giuliano de' Medici, portrayed her ethereal face.
The following day we were invited to a banquet at the Villa di Careggi that the Magnificent had organized in honor of the Borromeo family with the implicit intent of introducing their daughter to his brother Giuliano, who, however, like and perhaps more than many, had clearly lost his head for Cattaneo. After the first pleasantries, in fact, Giuliano left the room and the guests, secluding himself in the garden, where Vespucci's wife was waiting for him, took advantage of the absence of her husband, who had been traveling on business since that morning.
Between one course and the next, Lorenzo delighted his guests by proclaiming precious sonnets that he had composed. On the other hand, if necessary, some of the distinguished guests answered in rhyme, pleasantly enlivening the symposium. In addition to noble friends and family, esteemed neo-Platonic academics were seated at the table such as Marsilio Ficino, Agnolo Ambrogini and Pico della Mirandola, as well as several members of the Florentine Council.
Although he was the affirmed head of the richest and most powerful family in Florence and was increasingly becoming the undisputed arbiter of the political balance on the peninsula, Lorenzo was only twenty-six years old and had the undoubted merit of having been able to build a young court around him, brilliant but at the same time wise and capable. In a few days of knowing him, he had become my model to strive for, a concentration of values to which I should aspire. However, what made us objectively different and that I could have never equaled, apart from the eleven years of age, was his being able to count on a solid and closely-knit family: his mother, Donna Lucrezia, was, even more so since the death of her relative Piero, his omnipresent accomplice and councilor; Bianca, sweet and beloved sister, doted on her elder brother, never missed a chance to praise him and every time she publicly pronounced his name her eyes shone; Giuliano, a disorderly younger brother, despite his venial disagreements and impertinences, however, was always at his side and involved in every political success or failure; Clarice, despite having learned of a few marital betrayals, had never ceased to love her husband and would always have supported him against anyone, even against, if necessary, her own family of origin. It was pleasant to watch that family court around which the city, clustered, elegantly subservient and reverent, at every celebration, every banquet. And it was a typical occasion, which like others I was privileged to attend.
Before, however, the confectioner made his scenograpic entrance into the dining room, I heard a dog barking repeatedly outside the villa and instinctively decided to go and see why the animal wanted to attract the attention of the owners. Entering the garden I discovered incredulously Giuliano and Simonetta rolling on the ground without being able to control their limbs: Vespucci, red in the face, with eyes and mouth wide open, trembled like a leaf; her lover, on the other hand, tried to tear his clothes off, alternating spasmodic laughter with hallucinations… I returned to the house without delay and, taking advantage of a break, with utmost discretion asked Lorenzo to follow me.
Rushing to the spot, we saw the two lifeless bodies. Lorenzo ordered me to call the doctor immediately; although he tried to shake his younger brother's head and torso, he did not react in the slightest, neither to slaps or to his voice. After a while seizures began.
The situation was critical and very delicate. After a few moments, excitement and bewilderment on the Magnificent’s face turned to panic and helplessness. Although he wanted to ask anyone present at his home for help, he knew well that the public discovery of the two young people in such conditions, in addition to creating an enormous scandal would certainly mean, for himself and his family, the loss of the significant political support of Marco Vespucci, at that moment a needle in the balance of a Council that was already mined by de’ Pazzi (the noble Jacopo de' Pazzi, without a shadow of a doubt, would have taken advantage of the situation to claim control of the city).
Lorenzo was not reassured even by the sudden arrival of the doctor and the apothecary, who kept asking me what I had seen before he came. The great doctors in fact, immediately theorized a case of poisoning, they were unable to identify the substance responsible and consequently indicated a possible remedy. In the meantime, Agnolo Ambrogini arrived on the spot, the only one, besides his mother, whom Lorenzo blindly trusted; he was entrusted with the task of fabricating a necessary excuse for the guests, who rightly began to discern and accuse the absence of the landlord. With the help of Agnolo the bodies were quickly and secretly transported to a nearby shelter.
I noticed then that where Simonetta's body had recently lain there was a small basket of apples and berries, all apparently edible and harmless. I grabbed a blueberry between two fingers and crushed it. In a flash I remembered that a few months earlier Jacopo in Rome had shown me a very poisonous plant, called “atropa”, also known as “Satan’s cherry”, the fruits of which were easily confused with the berries of the common blueberry but unlike this the latter could be lethal in small quantities. Young women often used a marinate of atropa leaves to cause their eyes to shine and to dilate the pupil so as to appear more seductive. The doctor accepted my theory as possible and confirmed that both the young people dying had bluish spots on their lips. However, the scientist ruled that if that were the case there was no known cure, throwing the landlord into the most desperate resignation.
The dynamic was clarified days later: someone, in the pay of Francesco de' Pazzi, had not replaced the blueberries accidentally with the atropa in that fruit basket that Donna Vespucci had then shared with her lover. Giuliano had therefore poisoned himself by tearing the poisonous berries, in an erotic game, directly from the mouth of the beautiful Simonetta. And so, after a few minutes, the powerful drug took effect.
Still stunned at what had taken place in such a short time, I dared to intrude a second time and proposed to the Honorable Lorenzo to make an extreme attempt, and to consult the pontifical delegation hosted in the diocese. The Magnificent, making me promise maximum reserve, consented and hurriedly made me escort him to Jacopo, with whom I returned shortly thereafter. My Benedictine analyzed the fruits of the solanaceous and administered an antidote to the sufferers from the unknown lands of Africa. After about an hour the symptoms subsided, their body temperature began to fall and within eight days the two young people recovered completely.
Together with fate any suspicion was removed, inside and outside the walls. In fact, when Marco Vespucci returned to the city with his bankers, he didn't notice anything: he was even richer, Simonetta was even more beautiful, Giuliano even more in love… but, most of all, Florence was even more Medici.
Even the archbishop, slowly, seemed to recover; therefore we prepared to return to Rome. First, however, the Magnificent, in sign of his affection and esteem as well as thanks and gratitude, wanted to pay homage to me for what everyone considered to be one of the highest awards of the republic: the gold ring bearing six balls, a universal
