Many illustrious men did the Gherardi give to the service of Florence. Gherardo was three times Gonfalonier of the city; his son Francesco was a brave soldier and led the troops of the Republic against the Siennese in 1495 when he stormed Montepulciano and took Giovanni Savelli, their Roman captain prisoner, whom he brought, with many nobles and captains of Siena, in triumph to Florence. His brother Bernardo Gherardi, Gonfalonier in 1434, was a strong partisan of the Medici, and his influence caused the exile of Cosimo de’ Medici to be cancelled. The Republic sent him as ambassador to Venice, Ferrara and Rome, and when he died in 1459 he was buried at the public expense. Seven different Gherardi were Gonfaloniers of Justice, and the name occurs frequently in the old history of Florence.[72] Tradition says the old castle stood many a siege and that Sir John Hawkwood was guilty of destroying the eastern wing, only partially rebuilt some two or three hundred years ago. It probably was one of the frontier castles which in ancient times defended Florence from the people of Arezzo and of the Casentino. The line of castles, with their towers, can still be traced, from Castel di Poggio perched high on the hill above past Vincigliata and Poggio Gherardo, across the valley and up the opposite bank of the Arno. Poggio Gherardo stands about 300 feet above the plain. From the gate, with its marble busts of the four seasons, a winding road flanked by roses on either side—a glory to behold in springtime—leads up through olive-groves and vineyards to the spinny which crowns the hill and protects the villa from the north wind. Over the door are the arms of the Gherardi and the entrance hall is the “Loggia” mentioned in the _Decameron_, the arches of which were built up two or three hundred years ago. In the courtyard the well, eighty feet deep, “of coldest water” still exists; but alas, the “jocund paintings” in the rooms have disappeared. From the southern terrace garden the view is wonderful, especially if you see a purple, orange and blood-red sunset away to the west, behind the mountains of Modena and the cloud-like white masses of Carrara. Florence lies mapped out at one’s feet, with Galileo’s tower, San Miniato, Monte Uliveto and Bellosguardo keeping watch over her. When the air is clear the point of Monte Nero above Leghorn can be seen in the far west, while to the east Vallombrosa forms a background for Settignano and the house of Michelangelo—ninety-three miles as the crow flies. The course of the Arno in the valley below is marked by rows of tall poplars, and hundreds of villas, shining brightly in the sun, are dotted about in the plain and on the hillsides, while line after line of opalesque hills fade away towards the fertile vale of the Chianti. Eastwards are Monte Pilli and the Incontro, so-called because St Francis and St Dominic are supposed to have met there, and beyond them again, as already said, is Vallombrosa.