Free What Remains of the Fair Simonetta by Laura T. Emery

wanted to find a way to stay in the Renaissance with his son.

Chapter 12
    I loved Mariano, but I had to love him. He was all I had, and therefore, was like a father to me. And just as we can’t choose our biological fathers, I did not choose Mariano. I felt a strong resistance to returning to the future version of him, even if he was the one responsible for bringing me to my Renaissance paradise. I never thought I would feel that way, but realized his curmudgeon negativity had gotten to me. And what was there left to talk about after eleven years? Granted, those eleven years were a drop in the bucket compared to the eternity we were destined to spend together in the Ognissanti, but it wasn’t as if we could talk about current events in our lives. I realized after a while that a person has only so many stories to tell, especially when you’re not creating new ones.
    There had been the occasional anecdote about visitors to the Ognissanti that we could reminisce on—like the woman who wept maniacally at the sight of Sandro’s tomb before stripping her clothes off and crawling on top of it to show her particular brand of reverence, almost knocking my urn over in the process. Mariano was often horrified at the way tourists behaved in a place of worship. Even though Mariano and I had yet to see God, he still very much believed—always searching for that ray of light that never came to claim him.
    Since I’d awakened in the fifteenth century, I immediately felt at home with Renaissance inconveniences. It all seemed so natural to me. When Mariano spoke of his life, he often focused on the downside of the quattracento : the various foul odors, the crime, the hangings, but mostly the lasciviousness of the noble families—which, in his opinion, was also a crime. Not that he had much direct interaction with nobility. What interaction he did have was for the sake of his sons, and usually involved something to be gained for their benefit. Though Mariano always had a certain fondness for the noble Rucellai family, from whom he rented his house—until they took his son, that is.
    Mariano couldn’t keep up with the rent. When he was more than a year behind, Paolo Rucellai demanded that one of Mariano’s sons go to Naples to work for him as a cloth merchant to pay off the rent. Mariano couldn’t give him Sandro, who would’ve been useless in such a capacity. His eldest, Giovanni, was already married and working as a pawnbroker. Antonio was a successful jeweler and goldsmith and a significant contributor to the household. That forced Mariano to send his favorite son, Simone, to Naples at the tender age of fourteen.
    Simone was a very pious young man, just like Mariano. He returned home from his duty in Naples just in time for the arrival of Girolamo Savonarola, the Dominican monk who condemned Lorenzo de’ Medici for his love of art and humanism. Simone became one of Savonarola’s most trusted followers, called the Piagnoni , or “snivelers.” They were called this because they were seen as continuously weeping over their sins.
    What the Piagnoni didn’t know was that Savonarola’s religious fervor was borne out of rejection he suffered at the hands of a young girl to whom he had professed his undying love. His hideous face combined with his rough demeanor suggested that there might never be a willing girl in his future. He was desperate to find someone deserving of his passionate love and devotion, so he turned to God, and used His name to punish all of Florence for one girl’s rejection.
    After reading the book of Revelation, Savonarola became convinced that the end of the world was near, and he preached that hellfire and damnation would soon rain down upon the Florentines if they didn’t give up their “worldly” belongings. He enlisted a gang of followers who would go door to door in search of these “vanities.” He had a secret society of informants; people who turned one against another in hopes of earning their