CHAPTER 2 #3
The Medici family was generous, providing a large amount of paint and an advance payment. The effect on the wall was mesmerizing, far better than the old frescoes Hedy had seen in the galleries.
Hedy never imagined she would actually sit beside a historical figure, watching him create a legend.
This painting would later be studied and analyzed by countless scholars and would become a treasure in the history of art.
She had died in the year 2000, at the turn of a new millennium, and she wondered, perhaps a hundred years from now, she too would be considered a historical figure.
Although Da Vinci liked to obsess over details when painting, he wouldn’t put brush to canvas until he had thoroughly studied the structure of the human body. However, completing an order and creating his own drafts were two different things.
In Florence, most artists didn’t paint for themselves; they worked based on commissions. Da Vinci’s stubborn nature was rare among his peers.
Without realizing it, he had become accustomed to the taste of the citrus medicine, and his body was growing healthier and stronger.
As the fresco was nearing completion, Hedy took some time off and headed to the outskirts of the city.
She had chosen a wild olive tree some time ago, and at the roots, she had buried a small pit where she hid a bundle of necklaces.
Now, more than a month had passed, and it was time to check if it was still there.
With the area clear of people, Hedy quickly moved through the oak grove on the outskirts of town, her skirt held up as she made her way to the wild olive tree. She started digging the pit as quickly as she could.
In the distance, a carriage hid in the shade of the poplar trees, almost unnoticed.
A young man, dressed like a noble, parted the velvet curtain and watched the grayish-looking young woman.
"Cosimo, who is she?"
The servant quickly went to check and came back after a while to report.
"She doesn’t seem to be from Florence, looks like a stranger."
The young woman appeared to uncover something small wrapped in cloth. After confirming its contents, she sighed deeply, reburied it, and then, lifting her skirt, swiftly turned to leave.
From the back, her exposed neck gleamed as white as a swan’s.
"Go dig that thing up, bring it to me," the young noble ordered.
"Yes, my lord."
The small bundle, sealed in coarse cloth, was immediately unearthed and carefully brought before Lorenzo.
He raised a finger, and one of his servants quickly unsheathed a dagger, gently cutting open the stitched seam. As the cloth fell away, the necklace, as radiant as a spring of water, spilled out, and the lord caught it effortlessly in his hands.
Lorenzo looked down at the necklace, his brow furrowing slightly.
"What is this?"
This was a Cartier necklace from 1930.
Diamonds, like stars, were set in a silver chain, and even held in the palm of his hand, it gleamed like a sliver of moonlight.
The arms dealer of that time, in an attempt to win the heart of Vienna's most unique beauty, had bought her countless jewels.
Tiny blue diamonds were scattered among them, though they were relegated to mere accents.
Diamonds, though seemingly translucent, would shimmer with endless brilliance when even slightly adjusted under the sunlight.
This single necklace was adorned with over a hundred diamonds, all intricately arranged in interwoven curves. Its hollow design was exquisite, with no trace of artificial polishing. The large pearls nestled within it glowed with a full, lustrous sheen.
"This—" The servant, who had seen countless lavish jewels in his time with Lorenzo, was now astonished.
"Perhaps... perhaps it's a diamond?"
Lorenzo raised the necklace higher, examining its brilliance more closely. "Even the Pope's diamonds don't shine like this."
He narrowed his eyes, as if counting something. “The reason this gem shines so brightly is because it has been cut into thirty, no, more than thirty faces.”
This type of gemstone was widely recognized as a talisman for protection, only fit for kings and the highest of nobility.
But the girl not only had a string of diamonds like this, but they were not only abundant in number; they had been cut into dozens of faces, which was no simple feat.
"Should I send someone to arrest her?"
Cosimo, observing his lord’s expression, continued cautiously, "She’s probably a thief, fleeing from some noble family in a nearby country."
"Don’t take any rash action." Lorenzo leaned against the window, playing with the necklace, and after a long pause, he added, "If she were a thief, she would have immediately gone to the black market to sell it and then hidden her tracks.
Burying it here, coming back to check on it, then burying it again—it suggests there’s something more to this."
Lorenzo had grown up in a world full of high society, accustomed to the various adornments on the necks and wrists of noblewomen. But this was the first time he had come across something like this.
"Cosimo, have it sewn back together and placed back where it was."
"Place it back, my lord?"
"Yes. Tomorrow, go check what kind of new, unusual jewelry has been appearing in the black market," Lorenzo said flatly. "She may have more than just this one."
"Understood, my lord."
When Hedy returned to the workshop, Da Vinci was busy helping a colleague with some woodwork, seemingly crafting a small prop for a play.
He had previously taken an order from a noblewoman for a portrait, but now he had carelessly started a draft, leaving it half-finished and unclear in its outline.
When he saw his maid return, he quickly handed the small object to his friend and turned to the easel to start painting.
The friend smiled and greeted Hedy before leaving for the theater, leaving Da Vinci focused on his work, with his back turned to her.
Da Vinci didn’t mind having someone watch him work, but he had a tendency to get easily distracted.
There were just too many fascinating things in the world—bird wings, lizard tails, human fingers—anything seemed worthy of a whole day’s study.
His procrastination in completing his paintings had many reasons.
When Hedy returned, she was holding a piece of paper with a grid drawn on it, meticulously filled with small squares.
"I was just—" Da Vinci tried to explain himself, hoping to make her understand. "I was just helping a friend."
Hedy remained calm and unbothered, finishing the grid and showing him the paper.
"What is this?" Da Vinci asked.
"It’s the months, sir," Hedy said slowly. "There are twelve months in a year. If we assume we can live for seventy years, that’s eight hundred and forty squares."
She looked at the brown-haired youth, then began shading in a large section of the squares with charcoal. "Sir, you are twenty-six years old, so three hundred and twelve of those squares are already gone."
Da Vinci looked at her in shock as she filled in nearly half of the squares, attempting to stop her. "No, no, that can’t be right! There must be more than that left!"
"It’s exactly like that."
"Are you sure? There’s at least half left, right?"
"No, sir," Hedy replied with a somewhat regretful expression. "This is all that’s left."
She added under her breath, “By the time you’re in your eighties, you might not even be able to hold a pen.”
Da Vinci stood still for a moment, staring at the grid, before suddenly standing up and walking out.
"Where are you going?"
"To Palazzo Vecchio!" he said without looking back. "I’ll finish that fresco today!"
Hedy couldn’t help but laugh, calling after him, "I made dinner for you to bring along!"
"Don’t forget the orange juice!"
"Got it!"
The fresco he was working on depicted shepherds paying homage to the infant Jesus in Bethlehem.
His use of color was restrained yet thoughtful, and he focused much of his energy on the perspective of the near and far landscapes.
The baby was depicted with remarkable realism, even the chubby little hands looking lifelike.
Hedy watched the fresco evolve from the sketch to the finished work. As she handed him tools, she asked a few questions.
"Was the baby modeled after someone?"
"Yes, my half-brother."
She paused, surprised, and then politely said, "Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that."
Da Vinci didn’t stop working, but glanced at her with a nonchalant expression. "It’s nothing to worry about."
Hedy felt awkward asking about his family background, so she turned her focus back to the fresco.
Suddenly, she thought of the purple pigment she had seen at the apothecary and asked curiously, "Sir, why don’t you use purple in your fresco?"
Noble orders were generally generous; even if gold leaf was required, it would be sent in advance. The Medici family, being a banking family, certainly wouldn’t be stingy in this regard.
Da Vinci, now blending the light and dark contrasts on the fresco, spoke in a rather indifferent tone.
"Because it smells."
"Smells?"
Hedy, who had been organizing some things nearby, suddenly realized something.
Could it be that the strange smell she had noticed through the glass cabinet was indeed coming from that pigment?
"You know, do you know what purple pigment is made from?"
"...Huh?"
He turned around, looking down at her with a slight smile. "Murex snails."
"These snails not only need to soak in saltwater, but also in urine for a long time."
"The Romans had large urine pools specifically to soak the murex snails. The stench was enough to drive away even demons."
Just hearing him describe it made her want to avoid purple altogether.
She waved her hand in front of her face and sighed, "Such a shame."
"A shame?" Da Vinci frowned and repeated.
"This color is so beautiful. If it were in your hands, you could paint an even more classic piece." She propped her chin on her hand and continued, "It’s really such a waste."