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that where they can cause trouble. You make
the monk more important than he is. We have difficulties enough without making
Savonarola angry. Let him preach his austerity and piety. There are some of our
citizens who take comfort in mortification, and if they follow him, what is that
to you or me? It harms no one. But the one sure way to bring him into politics
is to malign him and make mock of his beliefs. If he is forced to defend
himself, he will find allies, and that will be worse for Fiorenza than the
Venezian pox and war with Milano." He pulled at the reins and let his stallion
trot down the newly flagged street.
    Poliziano shook his head, and he let the jeering note come back into his
voice. "What? a Medici afraid of the truth? Very well. Keep your ridiculous
policy if you insist. You have convinced yourself that you must be magnanimous
with the Church for your damnable son-in-law. What does it matter if his father
is Pope? You need not placate a preacher to keep peace with Innocento." Suddenly
the sarcasm was gone and his little mouth narrowed in a deadly serious line. "I
tell you that preacher is dangerous. I warn you: he will destroy you." Then he
made as elaborate a bow as he could in the saddle. "Do not heed me, then. Who
are you but a simple citizen of Fiorenza? What right have you to dictate to the
Pope?"
    Laurenzo was silent, but his jaw became more tense, so that the muscles stood
out along the bone. His wide-brimmed hat shadowed his eyes, but Ragoczy could
see anger and sorrow there.
    Once again Poliziano's tone changed. "Don't think me more of a fool than you
are, Laurenzo."
    There was no answer. Laurenzo had already pulled up his horse in the
unfinished gateway of an incomplete building. Scaffolding stood in the
courtyard, and stonework and mortar showed that raw newness which was a
substitute for character in the palazzo.
    As Laurenzo swung out of the saddle, he tugged his reins over the big roan's
head and secured them to the nearest scaffold's supports. "I have never thought
you a fool, Agnolo," he said, somewhat more acidly than before.
    Ragoczy had also dismounted and was securing his reins to the new hinge
mounts that would eventually hold the fantastic cast-iron grillwork of the gate.
"Do you want to join me, Poliziano, and see the walls and floors and ceilings?
Or would you rather stay here in the courtyard and let my servant bring you some
wine to drink?"
    This invitation delighted Poliziano. He kicked his feet free of the stirrups
and slid off his horse. "I gladly accept the offer of wine, Ragoczy. And I thank
you for sparing me the unending boredom of viewing your palazzo. The walls, I
see, are upright, and certainly I can get the full effect of the building from
here." His glance took in the unfinished courtyard.
    For a moment Ragoczy's dark eyes rested enigmatically on Poliziano's face.
"Can you." Then the mood was gone. He shrugged lightly. "There are benches for
you to sit on. I am sure the builders won't mind if you use them. The mosaics on
that side of the court have just been laid. I pray you won't walk on them."
    Poliziano had secured his horse's reins to the topmost of a stack of iron
window grilles. He glanced around the courtyard in a perfunctory way, saying,
"Pretty, very pretty. A handsome court. Those mosaics remind me of something I
saw in Roma once. Where is that servant of yours who will bring me wine?"
    Ragoczy still stood in the shadows, and because of the black clothes of
Venezian silk he wore, he seemed one with them, almost unreal. "In a moment,
Agnolo. I will summon him. Ruggiero!"
    The sudden loudness of his call brought Laurenzo away from his inspection of
the gate's fittings and decorations. "Ragoczy, what are the markings around your
arms? I don't think I know the words. I thought it was Greek, but I cannot read
it. Is it in the Russian tongue, perhaps?"
    There was a certain aloofness in his manner as he turned to Laurenzo. "No,