The Family - Mario Puzo [96]
Like the professionals they were, Saluti and his assistant fastened Savonarola securely to the rack. Unwilling to leave the critical task to a subordinate, Saluti himself turned the iron wheels that moved the gears that, in turn, pulled the subject’s limbs ever so slowly from his body. All through this process, neither Saluti nor Savonarola said a word. This pleased Saluti. He considered this room to be like a church, a place for silence, prayer, and, finally, confession, not idle conversation.
Soon Saluti heard the familiar crunching pop, as the priest’s forearms broke loose at his elbows. The senior cardinal of Florence, who sat nearby, turned pale, shocked by the ghastly sound.
“Do you, Girolamo Savonarola, confess that your spoken message was false and heretical—a defiance of our Lord?” Saluti asked.
Savonarola’s face was pale as death, his eyes rolled toward heaven like the sainted martyrs in religious frescoes. Still, he made no reply.
The cardinal nodded to Saluti, who turned the wheel once again. After a moment there was a fierce ripping sound, accompanied by a high-pitched animal-like scream, as the bones and muscles of Savonarola’s arms were torn from his shoulders.
Again Saluti intoned his question. “Do you, Girolamo Savonarola, confess that your spoken message was false and heretical—a defiance of our Lord?”
The whispered words were barely audible when Savonarola whispered, “I confess.”
It was over.
Savonarola had acknowledged his heresy, and so the end was preordained. There was no protest from the Florentines. They had once adored him, but now were glad to be rid of him. Within the week the Hammer of God was hanged, his broken body twisting on the ropes until he was almost dead. Then he was cut down and burned at the stake in the piazza in front of the Church of San Marco where he had spewed forth his fire and brimstone—where he had almost driven the Pope himself to death and destruction.
Pope Alexander, on this workday morning, considered the ways of the world, the trickeries of nations, the treacheries of families, and the odd, satanic ways hidden in the hearts of every individual on earth. Still, he did not despair. The ways of God he never had to ponder, since he was Christ’s Vicar on Earth and his faith was immeasurable. He knew that above all God was merciful, and would forgive all sinners. That was the bedrock of his faith. He never doubted that the purpose of God was to create happiness and joy in this temporal world.
But a Pope’s duties were different. Above all, he had to make the Holy Church stronger so that it could carry the word of Christ everywhere in the world—and, even more important, over the vastness of time into the future. The greatest calamity for man would be to have the voice of Christ silenced.
In this way his son Cesare could serve. Though he would no longer be a cardinal, he was certain to help unify the Papal States, for he was an excellent military strategist and a patriot as well. The only question was, did he have the character to withstand the temptations of power? Did he know mercy? For if not, he could save the souls of many and yet lose his own. This troubled Alexander.
But now, there were other decisions to be made. Details of his office, boring administrative rulings. Today there were three, only one of which caused him true conflict. He had to decide on the life or death of his chief secretary, Plandini, who had been convicted of selling papal bulls. Then he would have to decide whether one of the members of a great and noble family should be canonized as a saint of the church. And third, together with his son and Duarte, he had to go over the plans and amassed funds that he had allocated to start a new campaign to unite the Papal States.
Alexander was dressed in formal style, but simply—as a Pope who would dispense favors, not demand them. His white robe was plain, lined