CHAPTER 3
But to Da Vinci, she was not just his cook and maid, but also his assistant in painting. She tirelessly did the work of three or four people.
Previously, when he was short on funds, and procrastinated taking commissions, it was likely even difficult for him to pay her monthly wages.
But ever since that half-covered chart had reminded him, every time Da Vinci felt like slacking off and wasting a bit more time, the vivid image of that chart would hang in his mind, motivating him to focus on what was most important at the moment.
Once he became aware of the limited time in life, the priorities of many things became much clearer.
Being able to meet deadlines meant higher income, and that would allow him to treat her much better.
However, in Hedy’s eyes—or rather, in the eyes of the 85-year-old woman that Hedy had become—being too agreeable wasn't necessarily a good thing.
His kindness and generosity toward himself were no different from how he treated others.
When she learned that her salary was going to be raised to 65 soldi per month, she did feel a small sigh of relief in her heart, but also a lingering sense of worry.
Mr. Da Vinci was indeed gentle and kind, rarely showing any temper.
But people like that, if they were to encounter someone malicious, might be manipulated or extorted, unable to escape easily.
As it turned out, the beef blood and urine didn’t prove useful for painting.
They had to clean up the mess and throw those items away, then ended up having a simple lunch together.
Mr. Piero came to find Da Vinci again, as if there were something important to discuss.
To avoid suspicion, Hedy stepped outside and wandered around the street for a while, suddenly recalling the petri dish she had seen earlier.
If she could find something similar, like the gelatin powder used for mousse cakes, perhaps the beef broth could solidify more quickly.
Moreover, she would need Staphylococcus aureus.
The young woman tightened her shawl and continued to stroll aimlessly through the streets.
She wouldn’t dress in revealing clothes like other women, nor would she flirt with the men by the roadside. Her personality was reserved and calm.
She walked lightly in her high-heeled shoes, designed to avoid the mud, and her skirt fluttered in the breeze, resembling a blooming bluebell.
In this era, unmarried young men and women generally wore light blue clothing. After marriage, if their lives were comfortable, they would switch to calm shades of light green or deep green.
The dyes for these clothes came from large crops grown not far away in France, and the prices were relatively affordable.
Dyes and paints, however, had different properties and sources.
For instance, farmers grew large fields of a plant called "daqing" (a type of rapeseed), extracting blue dye from the juice.
The dye was processed through multiple stages and eventually turned into fabric sold to nearby countries at low prices.
Black fabric was also somewhat popular, made from black wool.
The only color one should avoid was dark yellow.
This color represented the pallor of illness or aging, and it evoked many negative associations. Those who wore yellow skirts were often considered prostitutes.
In many religious paintings, Judas, who betrayed Jesus, is depicted wearing a deep yellow robe, shunned by the faithful. Additionally, the French term fauve, meaning tawny, was also associated with betrayal and traitors.
Hedy spent a long time searching through the grocery and apothecary shops until she finally found a powder made from seaweed. It could be used to make jelly and was quite similar to gelatin powder.
"How much for this?" she asked cheerfully, turning around. A shadow seemed to flash past in the distance.
If she could add this to the beef broth, it might solidify faster, making it easier to cultivate the bacteria.
Besides the seaweed powder, she also needed to collect Staphylococcus aureus.
Pretending to be a poor young girl whose elderly father had fallen ill, she asked an elderly nun at the hospital to help her collect some pus from a wound in a glass bottle, casually slipping her two soldi in exchange.
The old nun silently hid the coins in her bag, quickly leaving for a while, and soon returned with what Hedy needed.
A servant in the distance had been watching and, once he confirmed that the humming young woman had left, he returned to the hospital.
"What did she give you?"
The old nun, preparing to leave, was unexpectedly stopped by a man dressed like an assassin in a white robe.
She immediately noticed the dagger at his waist. Trembling, she pulled the silver coins out of her pocket, her legs shaking uncontrollably.
But the man was not concerned with the silver coins at all. He only asked what the young woman had requested from the nun.
"Pus—her elderly father has thrush!"
The servant frowned, then waved his hand, releasing her. He turned and rode off toward the Doge's Palace.
"The lord himself has seen your painting," Piero said, rubbing his hands. "He said your composition is very ingenious—he even praised how lifelike you made the figures. I mean, he absolutely loves it!"
"Mm." Da Vinci, absorbed in his study of the beef bile, replied distractedly, "Is there anything else?"
"Listen, he wants us to meet him today—now, right now," Piero said seriously. "Stop looking at that bottle, and come with me."
"He wants to see me?" Da Vinci raised an eyebrow. "What, does he want to invite me to live in the Doge's Palace?"
Piero was unconcerned. "Don't you want to go? Botticelli's already been invited, why can't you?"
"Did you forget what happened in April?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the atmosphere seemed to suddenly drop.
The father and son both fell silent for a moment, silently skipping over that topic.
"The government has opened another brothel for you guys. You should go check it out sometime," Piero sighed. "Come on, the lord is waiting for us."
Da Vinci rubbed his forehead and packed away his painting supplies.
"I'm not gay, I don't need to go to a brothel."
The only response was a dismissive nasal sound from Piero.
They took a carriage to the Doge's Palace, and with the servant’s guidance, they passed through hallways and corridors adorned with oil paintings, making their way deeper into the palace.
Florence had been under the protection of the Medici family for a century, and the current ruler had succeeded his grandfather at the age of twenty. His methods were swift and decisive.
He was skilled in balancing relationships with neighboring countries, maintained a harmonious rapport with the pope, and generously funded numerous painters and sculptors, making him a renowned and lavish patron of the arts.
As Da Vinci entered the palace, although there was a slight sense of resistance in his heart, he couldn't help but glance up at the vast collection of art around him.
His eyes immediately landed on Botticelli's famous The Annunciation, and with a raised eyebrow, he quickly walked away.
Piero was stopped at the door, leaving Da Vinci to enter the lord’s office alone.
The room was not very bright. In the dim light, a lamp illuminated the long pinewood table, with attendants standing on either side.
"Mr. Da Vinci," the lord said, closing the document in his hand, speaking slowly. "It’s good to finally meet you in person."
The young man raised his gaze slightly, his tone neither humble nor arrogant. "Greetings, my lord."
However, the conversation soon fell into a routine exchange about art and other trivial matters.
Da Vinci, fighting the urge to yawn, managed to contain it.
"By the way," Lorenzo casually remarked, "I recently acquired this ring on the black market. Take a look."
An attendant quickly brought over a velvet cushion, on which lay a diamond ring.
The band was made of white gold, and the large diamond was adorned with petal-like rubies on the side, making it look both delicate and exquisite.
From a distance, it resembled a budding flower, like a cyclamen from Greece.
Although Da Vinci didn’t understand why Lorenzo was showing him the ring, he still examined it carefully.
“This diamond has fifty-eight facets,” he murmured. “How is that possible?”
Lorenzo's expression shifted slightly, his tone deepening as he replied, “You don’t know?”
“And it’s the red color only used by nobility,” Da Vinci said, astonished. “Is it the new trend from the French royal family?”
Lorenzo studied him with a complex gaze for a moment before responding, “It is indeed well-designed.”
With a subtle motion of his finger, the attendant bowed and took the ring away.
“You truly have talent. You will become an exceptional painter,” Lorenzo said as he stood up. “Come live in my palace. I can be your long-term patron.”
This wasn’t an unusual offer.
Florence’s hottest young painter, Botticelli, had grown up in the Medici family and was now being funded to run his own independent workshop.
The Medici family owned over a dozen gardens and villas, with assets scattered throughout Tuscany. Even the nearby villas housed many sculptors and artists.
They often hosted grand balls and knight tournaments, where the painters would find the perfect angles to record these events for posterity, allowing the world to admire them.
Da Vinci, however, didn’t seem very interested in this. He thought for a moment, then politely declined, “Thank you for your kindness, but I prefer the life of the common people.”
“Your father has already agreed to be our notary,” Lorenzo replied calmly. “If you come to me, you can not only see Michelangelo’s manuscripts and Angelico’s originals but also paint without restrictions.”
—Angelico!
When Da Vinci heard his father being mentioned, his expression softened slightly. Every benefit Lorenzo offered felt like pure gold, making it harder for him to resist.
Suddenly, Da Vinci thought of the young maid at his house and let out a long sigh.