CHAPTER 3 #4
This time and age, they didn’t even know whether diamonds existed, so everything had to be hidden very carefully.
She thought long and hard about her assets in Florence.
Even if she had money and could buy anything, nothing was truly reliable.
One of the differences between adults and children is understanding that life is unpredictable, and at any given moment, one might lose control over their own fate.
As soon as Hedy realized she had arrived in this world, she immediately replaced her Austrian-style maid uniform with the light, flowing dresses worn by the locals.
This place had a typical Mediterranean climate, warm enough during the spring and summer that clothes couldn’t hide jewelry—its contours would be too obvious.
She had stayed in Da Vinci’s home for a while back then, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel at ease. She decided to either bury or hide her belongings, placing them in absolutely safe spots.
She didn’t have a home in this world.
Whether it was Da Vinci’s home or the independent bedroom in the Doge’s Palace, both were places she could lose her right to stay in at any moment.
And the owners of those houses had the right to search and inspect at any time. If discovered, she might really be thrown into the hands of the Inquisition for judgment.
But if she hid things in a tree hollow or a bird’s nest, there was the risk that wild animals or birds might take them away, and she would never know what happened to them.
It was said that Mr. Lorenzo had always been close to the citizens, and when they entered the palace, he personally checked the various items they had brought with them.
"What is this?"
"Sir, it's a mask."
He looked at it with suspicion. "Put it on, let me see."
In front of everyone, Hedy hung the two cotton strings over her ears and used a coarse cloth to cover her mouth and nose.
"Why not use the doctor's kind?"
In the Middle Ages, masks were long, iron bird-like beaks that covered even the eyes.
"It's only necessary to protect the mouth and nose, sir."
Lorenzo rummaged through her suitcase again and pulled out a fruit. His expression shifted slightly.
"...The palace wouldn't withhold even oranges from you."
"Oh—" Hedy instinctively took the orange back. "This is for Mr. Da Vinci. I'm used to being his maid."
She turned and handed the orange to him, saying earnestly, "He drinks orange juice when painting. When I have time, I'll make more for you."
Da Vinci observed the cold expression on Lorenzo’s face and responded with a smile.
Although both of them had entered the palace, their living quarters were far apart.
As the court alchemist, Hedy had to regularly report to Lorenzo or assist him with any questions, so her quarters were in a guest room upstairs from his office.
Da Vinci, on the other hand, lived with the other painters and seemed to be treated quite well.
But no matter what, Hedy’s living situation had improved greatly from before.
Her room had a spacious and comfortable bed—no more curling up in a storage room to sleep—and she even had her own wardrobe—a wardrobe!
Now, Hedy not only had a personal maid to help with sewing and laundry, but she also had several new dresses, robes, and knitted shawls. Her wardrobe was even neatly stocked with three pairs of shoes, all clean, tidy, and beautiful.
—If all this was Mr. Medici’s kindness, then he was actually quite thoughtful.
"Dechio," Hedy picked up the small conical bottle from her bedside. "What is this?"
"My lady, it's smelling salts."
"Smelling salts?"
She shook the liquid inside the bottle and cautiously sniffed it.
The scent was incredibly pungent, like ammonia.
The word seemed long forgotten, but after a moment of reflection, she recalled its meaning.
In high society, women were expected to be "fragile and delicate." Even hearing bad news was considered enough to make them faint, as a way of showing their frailty.
Because they often fainted, smelling salts were kept on hand to revive them with this sharp, stimulating scent.
Hedy toyed with the small glass bottle, suddenly wondering if pretending to faint would expose any flaws in her performance.
The following days passed, but she didn’t see her old friend Da Vinci for six or seven days.
She was met by a group of noblewomen and had to constantly ask her maid, Dechio, about court etiquette.
Mr. Medici’s wife was a quiet and cold woman. She had already given birth to eight children for him, though one pair of twins had died shortly after birth due to congenital issues.
A modern person would be quite surprised to see so many children.
After all, the current lord was only twenty-nine years old.
Even with the pace of two children every three years, he must have started fathering them when he was around seventeen.
She met many other nobles as well, but honestly, she couldn't remember all their names. After returning to her room, she had to organize a roster and write them all down.
Though Hedy now held a better position, there was still a lingering wariness in her heart. She didn’t dare to relax for even a moment.
The first thing Hedy did was write a long paper and submit it to the cold and mysterious lord.
The core of the paper was to encourage people to eat more fruits and vegetables rich in vitamin C, and to provide the method for making orange juice and orange juice-based remedies.
Explaining the existence of vitamins was difficult, so she simply listed several types of foods, explaining what the consequences would be if these foods were consumed in insufficient amounts.
Hedy wasn’t used to the swan feather quill and had to look up words in the dictionary while writing in Italian.
Her writing was fragmented, and at times, she would get lost in thought, remembering things from her past.
A long time ago, she had only been a rising star at MGM Studios.
With her curly, middle-parted black hair, deep eyes, and slightly arched eyebrows, she caught the attention of many on the street posters. Even though she had just arrived in the United States, many people could already recognize her.
Back then, Hedy had a habit of going to a regular spot to play tennis. Once, she even ran into John F. Kennedy, who had come specifically to meet her.
At that time, he had not yet been elected president. He was still studying at Harvard University, but he was already one of the new aristocrats.
Kennedy, holding a tennis racket, came up to her, carefully choosing his words as he tried to ask her out.
"—What can I offer you?"
The young Hedy smiled at him.
"Vitamin C."
"The doctor said I should take more of it."
Later, how that young man joined the army, rose to power, had an affair with Marilyn Monroe in the White House, and was assassinated, all became matters far removed from her life.
The poor movie star, in her obsession with the married man, had tried to commit suicide multiple times, eventually dying from an overdose of sedatives in Beverly Hills, being mourned and remembered by countless people.
In the end, a jar of vitamin C seemed much healthier.
Hedy pulled herself back from her thoughts and lowered her head, using the tip of her pen to poke a period.
A woman should always remain vigilant against all power and temptation.
She looked over the paper, scanning it up and down, feeling satisfied.
It had to both persuade people with the tactics of convincing children, while also clearly stating the dangers, methods, and precautions.
After all these years of seeing doctors, now she had become the health advisor to the Medici family.
The paper was soon sent to the office, and then there was no word about it.
Later, Dechio told her that a few servants had been chosen, like guinea pigs, to drink orange juice every day and eat a lot of tomatoes.
The alchemist played with his quill in the bedroom, smiling ambiguously.
It was a very Medici thing to do.
Christmas preparations started early, though it seemed to have little to do with her.
By the end of November, small markets and performances began in the surrounding villages, and the city grew more lively.
By December 8th, the countdown had begun, and people started decorating the city. Iris flags hung everywhere, and mistletoe was harvested and hung on doors to keep witches away.
Craftsmen set up scenes depicting the birth of Jesus in the square, and business at the theaters was booming.
It was rumored that Da Vinci had made a new pair of wings for the actors and arranged new aerial tricks that included somersaults in mid-air.
—So how’s that guy’s painting going?
—Is he really a painter?
The Christmas market changed its theme and style frequently, and Persian merchants brought a cart full of Chinese porcelain. The designs indeed looked exquisite and beautiful.
Hedy still hadn’t been fully relieved of surveillance and restrictions. Even the glass jars with beef soup had been confiscated, indicating that her vigilance had not been relaxed.
She sat quietly, studying Latin, appearing serene and submissive, not showing a hint of rebellion.
The Medici wouldn't allow her to leave the palace, so she didn't.
The Medici wouldn't allow her to visit Da Vinci for a chat, so she refrained.
In the Middle Ages, in a world devoid of support and concepts of human rights, there was no freedom, no equality, and certainly none of the many rights that women should have had.
The only thing to feel somewhat satisfied with, perhaps, was the meat at lunch and dinner.
And it was fresh beef, sometimes even with chicken wings or chicken breasts.
After half a month, Hedy remained as silent as ever, making no unnecessary resistance or excuses. Her health had improved a lot, and her cheeks were now much rosier.
There was no rush.
The 85 years of life she had lived before had given her the calmness of an elder. She focused on nourishing herself, restoring her health, and slowly formulating other plans.
She couldn’t be suppressed by royal power for the rest of her life, nor could she stay here forever.
On the night of Christmas Eve, people gathered in the church to join the bishop in the ceremony.
Before the midnight mass, there was a meatless supper, but the smell of bass and seafood grilling was quite delicious.
After the mass, she could rest, and then it would be Christmas.
Hedy, invited by the wife of the Medici, attended a luncheon with the noblewomen.
The pasta was covered with rich sauce, the roasted meat was tender and fragrant, and it was sprinkled with hazelnuts.
When the almond cake was brought to the table, she couldn’t help but let out a sigh of appreciation.
The noblewomen, seeing her modest and plain appearance, smiled with elegance, using metaphors to gently mock her behind their fans.
Hedy didn’t even quite catch what they were saying.
Sitting at the feast, she suddenly had a strong craving for a cup of coffee, with milk foam and a sprinkle of chocolate powder on top.
—But that would likely take several hundred years to become a reality.
On December 26th, it was St. Stephen's Day.
Relatives came to visit, and a grand ball was held at the palace.
Hedy didn’t join the dance but instead ate two more pieces of beef ribs.
The noblewomen twirled and swayed on the dance floor, their skirts blooming like tulips in full bloom.
In the crowd, Hedy caught a glimpse of Da Vinci, holding his easel. He seemed to have lost some weight.
Their eyes met from afar, and then, like strangers, they blended back into the crowd.
Botticelli was quite popular at the banquet, dancing several times with the young noblewomen, yet it seemed as though he knew about the unspoken rule and did not approach Hedy too closely.
Twelve days later, on January 6th, the story of the Three Kings was recalled and celebrated.
Children found lumps of coal and candy in their stockings and performed ancient biblical stories with wooden swords.
It was also at this time that Dechio, the maid, quietly informed Hedy of new developments.
The lucky servants, not only had their health improved significantly, but even their gum bleeding had nearly stopped.
They looked much healthier, with some even reporting that their migraines had disappeared.
Overnight, fresh orange juice appeared by the beds of all the noble guests at the Doge’s Palace.