CHAPTER 3 #2
“Speaking of which, do you have any servants?” Lorenzo asked, taking a sip of the wine poured by his attendant. “How many? If you don’t have many, you can bring them along.”
“I only have one maid,” Da Vinci said after composing himself, hesitating before speaking again. “I’m sorry, sir, but I might need to think about it a little more.”
Lorenzo seemed to have anticipated this response. He raised an eyebrow and said, “Would you like to see Giotto’s works up close?”
—Giotto!
The Giotto from two hundred years ago!
The young man froze, unable to speak for a moment.
Even though the events of April still weighed heavily on his mind, the image of the severed head still fresh, he couldn’t resist the temptation of that name.
Seeing his paintings would bring him up close to the perspective techniques, showing him the intricacies of how figures were drawn.
It was Giotto who had given the Virgin and Child their souls, who had painted angelic expressions on infants.
“…Alright, I agree,” he finally said.
Even though it might mean living with that Botticelli guy, it seemed he couldn’t resist the offer.
“The Medici family welcomes you,” Lorenzo said with a smile, lowering his gaze. “Bring your maid tomorrow.”
“If she behaves well, the Doge’s Palace will extend the same courtesy to her.”
——
"Are you going to their palace?"
Hedy didn’t expect the change to come so quickly. Her first instinct was to check if her gold coins were still hidden properly, whether anyone had dug them up and taken them.
Leonardo da Vinci clearly hadn't thought it through either, and he simply explained, "If you don’t want to, I can write you a recommendation letter and help you find a new job."
"But... why do I have to go to the Doge's Palace tomorrow?"
Hedy furrowed her brow slightly, feeling a sense of unease.
Her identity here was just that of an unknown maid. Even if she went to the court with da Vinci, she wouldn’t likely draw much attention from the nobles.
There must be something wrong.
It wasn’t until a long while later that da Vinci spoke again.
"Do you know about the 'Blood Mass' in April this year?"
"What’s that?"
In April this year, during the grand Easter mass, an assassination attempt took place.
The Pazzi family and some of their opposition, organized by the Archbishop of Pisa, led a group of over a hundred assassins into the church, trying to kill the two brothers.
Lorenzo’s brother died in the chaos, and he was only twenty when he was buried.
But he narrowly escaped death and hid in the relics chamber until the end.
The whole city of Florence descended into chaos, with assassins and guards everywhere on the streets. Bloodied and broken bodies littered the alleyways.
Blood splattered onto the portrait of the Holy Father, dyeing the entire city red.
In the end, the Archbishop of Pisa was hanged at the window of the Palazzo Vecchio.
Also hung and left to dry were the corpses of the Pazzi family and all the assassins.
"Alessandro Filippo, or the young Botticelli you know," da Vinci said impassively, "He personally painted the scene of the execution on the wall of the town hall, serving as a warning to the entire city, much like the Medici family's mouthpiece."
Hedy was startled, suddenly feeling as though cold water had been splashed on her face, waking her up.
It had taken her a long time to feel a small sense of stability in this era.
But this was the bloody Renaissance, filled with rebellion, slaughter, and all the things she didn’t want to face.
"Every time you take me to the church, you always avoid that place. Was it to keep me from seeing that scene?"
Da Vinci shrugged, "His painting is indeed vivid."
The struggle for power and profit has no place for justice or evil. The ones who survive hold the power to explain everything.
He had stayed away from the court for this very reason. Once you're caught in the whirlwind, you can't control anything.
"So, it makes sense that he wants to see you in person before allowing you to enter the palace as my assistant and maid," da Vinci mused. "Mr. Medici doesn’t seem particularly interested in business, but he is famously passionate about the arts."
Hedy thought for a long while, then nodded, "Sir, I will go with you tomorrow."
She had no better option.
It seemed that she had already gotten close to the flow of history. Whether it was the Medici family or da Vinci, they were people known from history books and art galleries.
If she completely removed herself from here and went to a place with people she knew nothing about, she might not even know how she would end up.
The next day, they woke up early. By the time breakfast was finished, the carriage was waiting at the door.
Hedy had now learned a little Italian, but she still struggled with the pronunciation of many long consonants.
The only fortunate thing was that Italian retained many Latin words, so when she had just arrived, she could understand half of the conversations of the neighbors.
She sat next to Da Vinci, her body slightly swaying with the bumps of the carriage, lost in thought.
Lorenzo de' Medici.
This name was one she had heard many times before at the Uffizi Gallery.
At present, he was seen by the citizens as the organizer of countless grand feasts, a shrewd ruler, the 'Magnificent Duke Lorenzo.'
Young, bold, and spending money like water.
This name seemed to flip a switch, suddenly bringing back many forgotten clues.
He would die in fourteen years, and the delicate balance painstakingly maintained between the city-states would crumble.
Soon after, King Charles II of France would invade Italy, reaching Florence.
Lorenzo's successor, Piero, would attempt to cede Pisa in exchange for peace, but was deposed by angry citizens.
Then, a madman would rise to power amid the chaos, igniting a fire of vanity in the town square.
This fire would destroy all things 'secular and pleasurable,' reducing masterpieces of poetry and art, women's mirrors and robes, even many Eastern porcelains, to ashes.
Hedy suddenly trembled.
She could not only think about how to preserve herself.
At that time, the Americas were still a wild, untamed land, and she couldn’t escape to the United States for refuge as she had in her past life. Escaping to France was also impractical—she only spoke German, English, and Latin, and the little French she knew was now completely forgotten.
Lorenzo must not die, and Florence could not fall.
If she didn’t intervene, her later life would be consumed by war and chaos, and everything could spiral into an irreversible disaster.
Da Vinci’s paintings, Mr. Botticelli himself, and the countless artworks of this city would all be lost in that calamity.
She shuddered, like a traveler suddenly awakening in a fog.
“Are you alright?” Da Vinci turned to look at her. “If you don’t want to go, it’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I’m fine, just a little cold.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her.
It was already November, and the weather was indeed growing colder.
The carriage stopped at a side door, and a servant led them to the same office as before.
This was Hedy’s first time entering the Doge’s Palace.
She hadn’t been to such a place in a long time.
The walls were coated with a cream-colored lacquer, and the gilded decorations were both elegant and exquisite.
Ancient-style paintings hung everywhere, along with many ivory-white sculptures, some of which were created by the great masters of ancient Greece.
Persian carpets were thick and soft, making no sound when stepped on.
She had once owned such a home, but that was all in her past life.
The two of them entered the office, and the nobleman lowered his head to finish some paperwork before finally lifting his gaze.
The two large doors were quickly closed, and two male servants stood guard at the entrance.
"Is this your maid?"
"Yes." Da Vinci replied calmly, "I brought her from Vinci."
Medici placed his quill back in its holder, then slowly said, "This lie is not very clever."
"You think I wouldn't be suspicious enough to send someone to the village to check her background and existence?" He raised his head, staring at the black-haired, blue-eyed girl with a playful tone. "But what if I did?"
Da Vinci took a deep breath and stood in front of Hedy.
"She escaped from France, my lord. If you find her presence inappropriate, you may send her away from the palace, but please do not make things difficult for her."
Hedy wasn’t familiar with the palace's rules and dared not speak out of turn. She kept her head lowered, saying little.
"Cosimo."
Another personal servant brought in a tray, which contained several items that had clearly come from Da Vinci's workshop.
"But what if she’s a witch?"
Lorenzo clasped his hands together, his fingers spreading like the wings of a white raven. "Tell me, what is this?"
Da Vinci stared in surprise, quickly recognizing the blue crystals sealed in a bottle.
Not only that, but there was also a glass dish with orange peels that had mold growing on them.
A small bottle contained collected pus, along with several other strange items.
Hedy felt as though her blood had turned to ice. The cold surged from her feet, freezing her to the spot.
None of her jewelry had been found, but these seemingly insignificant objects had all been discovered.
Yet, with just these things, it was more than enough to accuse her of being a witch and have her burned alive in the town square by the Inquisition.
"Kiesler, Miss—" Da Vinci couldn't even recognize what the objects were and instinctively shook his head. "She's not a witch, absolutely not. She would never harm babies—"
"Please be quiet for a moment." Lorenzo turned his gaze to the silent girl behind Da Vinci, repeating the name. "Kiesler? I don't believe I've ever heard of that surname."