CHAPTER 1 #2
The incident from last year had stirred up quite a bit of trouble, almost becoming one of his personal stains.
"Let’s eat," he made the sign of the cross. "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come..."
Hedy paused for a moment, lowering her head and making the same gesture without exposing any flaw.
She was a pure Jew.
Judaism and Catholicism had never been on good terms, but even during the Second World War, she had kept her background quiet, even from her two children who knew nothing about it.
—She could even recite many passages from the New Testament, and her actions and clothing had always reflected a deliberate difference.
To survive, people could let go of many things.
The two of them had a simple lunch and then took a tour of the small workshop.
Florence had several long streets filled with workshops, mixing textile, milling, painting, and other industries. The city was busy and noisy, but the people were generally friendly.
As Leonardo explained the areas she shouldn't touch in the workshop, he showed her a small storage room for her to rest in.
He had only been independent from his master's workshop for a year, and his finances were not exactly abundant. The house he rented was not large.
In the yard, long strips of pasta were drying, a gift from the friendly old woman next door.
The studio was filled with things, including two pieces of black bread that had evidently been left untouched for so long that they were now being used as rough painting rags.
His bedroom was simple and modest, with a few books placed nearby.
What was most peculiar, however, was the piles of manuscripts scattered everywhere.
Hedy instantly recognized how unusual the lettering was and could even barely read some of it.
Da Vinci was left-handed, and he was used to writing from right to left.
Not only that, but he could even write every letter of a word backward, so that even if he was recording trivial matters, no one would be able to read it.
Noticing her gaze on the manuscripts, he seemed slightly nervous and explained, "Don’t touch these—don’t move them either."
"Your encryption method is quite unique," Hedy said, not getting too close, but glancing at one of the manuscripts on a shelf. "But a mirror would reveal it, wouldn’t it?"
He had written everything in mirrored text, and with a mirror, it would all flip back to normal.
Wait—did this era have glass mirrors?
The young man seemed surprised, then nodded, cautioning, "Don’t tell anyone."
Hedy suppressed a smile and nodded, keeping the secret with him.
This person was very strange.
He didn't ask why she had escaped, didn't question her background or details, and hastily took her in as a maid with no apparent suspicion.
Did he have some secret?
Once the storage room was cleared out and the bedding was prepared, da Vinci suddenly remembered something and turned to her.
"Do you know how to make wine?"
Hedy was caught off guard. "No... I don't."
A look of disappointment appeared on his face. "Don’t French maids know how to do this?"
No, I know how to build wireless communicators.
I also know how to make movies.
She cleared her throat awkwardly and asked, "Besides cleaning and cooking, is there anything else you require, sir?"
"Well, do you know how to brew beer?" da Vinci frowned. "Or any other kind of alcohol?"
"...No."
"Never mind," he sighed. "I'll go buy it."
"By the way—surely you know how to make pasta?"
...Is this era so demanding of women?
Hedy thought to herself that working as a maid here was safer than going elsewhere. She composed herself and said seriously, "I'll go learn tomorrow. I'll ask the old women nearby how to make it."
The young man nodded and seemed surprisingly easygoing.
He hesitated a bit, then spoke. "You don’t have to do a lot of work. If you have free time, could you model for me?"
"Yes, no problem."
She helped tidy up the yard and the workshop, and even advanced her pay to buy herself some clothes. During the break when her new master was busy in the workshop, she went out for a stroll.
Now, in this intersection of old and new cultures, people on the streets wore both Italian silk brocade purple-and-gold robes, and many, like da Vinci, wore German-style fur cloaks with sharp-cut sleeves.
Some women wrapped their heads in long scarves, and their dresses were mostly split robes with necklines that were shockingly low.
Not far from da Vinci's house were many peculiar little shops.
Although Hedy couldn’t understand the Italian signs, she wandered into each one.
There was a blacksmith's shop, a gold-leaf shop, a dyeing workshop, and further down, there was even a shop selling glasses.
What was even more interesting was the omnipresent sight of pasta.
People even kneaded wheat dough right on the streets, rolling it out, cutting it, and leaving it to dry, stretching it out long and hanging it up to dry outside.
Not only were the yards of every house filled with drying noodles, but the streets and squares were also scattered with golden strands of pasta drying in the sun.
Hedy adjusted her headscarf, carefully covering her face a little more.
She had black hair and blue eyes, with facial features that were distinctly Jewish—although she was undeniably beautiful, there was a subtle difference compared to the locals here.
She had wandered around the area and familiarized herself with the surroundings, using the little pay she had earned to buy some things for herself, preparing to return home and take care of other odd jobs.
But when Hedy approached da Vinci’s house, the passersby nearby would give her strange, questioning looks, even stopping to confirm if she was really entering.
—What’s going on?
Hedy felt a faint sense of unease, but she pushed open the iron gate and entered anyway.
Da Vinci was still immersed in his writing, seemingly uninterested in painting.
She didn’t disturb him but instead returned to her room, carefully removing the jewelry sewn into her maid’s uniform.
These were things she had brought from Austria, the only items tied to her past life.
As she carefully cut open the seam with a small knife, four or five rings slipped out, their sapphires and diamonds still as dazzling as ever.
The young woman lowered her gaze, examining these old objects, a feeling of being in another lifetime washing over her.
Her mindset seemed to still be that of someone in their eighties, and she found herself strangely unfamiliar with the rings when she looked at them.
In her past life, they had long been pawned away in America and England, and even after decades, they felt like distant memories.
Below the collar, there was also a hidden layer of embroidery, with two pairs of earrings sewn on each side.
The silver jewelry, adorned with pomegranate-red gemstones, was quite stylish.
If she couldn’t stay in the artist's workshop for long, she would have to find a way to sell these items again, preferably in exchange for a house.
On the underside of her skirt were four or five necklaces, with pearls and crystals that still gleamed brightly.
Hedy sighed softly, wearing the loosely-fitted burlap dress.
These things, she’d need to sell some of them eventually.
She wasn’t sure how long she could stay here, but it was better to have some hard currency on hand just in case.
Earlier, she had pretended to be a woman casually shopping, observing the way people conducted trades on another street.
In Florence, gold coins and silver coins were used.
One florin gold coin could be exchanged for 120 soldi, and it would take her 60 days of work to earn one gold coin.
Once she was fully familiar with the area, she’d need to quickly exchange some money.
She checked the surroundings carefully, then divided the jewelry into six portions, preparing to hide them at different locations over time.
Although da Vinci was a famous figure in history, history didn’t guarantee his character.
Since she had been reborn into this era, it was wise to hide her jewelry as securely as possible.
She cut a piece of old cloth, sewed the six portions of jewelry into small bundles, about the size of sandbags, and hid them in the inner layers of her maid’s uniform.
After scouting the area, she found several good places to stash them.
Once the items were safely hidden, Hedy collected her composure and stepped out of the room, her face neutral.
The great artist was still absorbed in his writing, and the painting nearby hadn’t been touched yet.
She glanced at him, deciding to take care of her personal needs first.
For example, drinking water.
It was quite strange here—there was wine in the kitchen, wine in the workshop, and even a small jug of malt beer in her room.
But there was no drinking water available.
There were no water purifiers, no drinkable taps—if someone caught dysentery, there would probably be no medicine either.
She’d have to boil the water to sterilize it before drinking.
Hedy sighed inwardly and turned to fetch a large bucket of water from the well. She found a crucible that might work in the kitchen and awkwardly crouched by the stove to start the fire.
The crucible swung back and forth on its hook, clearly designed for soup rather than boiling water.
It took her a full hour to finally get the fire going with flint, and by the time the water came to a boil, it was a lengthy struggle.
The scalding hot water was carefully ladled into a clean ceramic bottle, and once it cooled down, she would be able to drink it.
As she was ladling the water, she glanced around the kitchen, seemingly preparing to gather some ingredients for dinner, when a familiar voice suddenly came from behind her.
"—What are you doing?!"
Hedy nearly burned herself and turned to see da Vinci standing in the doorway.
"I’m boiling water to sterilize it, sir," she said, carefully stirring the water with the wooden spoon.