CHAPTER 9 #4
Whether the ring was still in his possession or how he was thinking about it, the bigger picture would remain the same, and it wouldn’t change.
Da Vinci quickly confirmed a few minor details, helping Hedy lock the wooden box into the secret compartment within the walls of the darkroom, hidden so well that even an earthquake wouldn’t reveal it.
He didn’t press her for the origins of the items, though he was quite curious about the craftsmanship of the diamond. Unfortunately, she wasn’t familiar with much of that information.
After leaving the darkroom, Da Vinci turned a copper ornament by the fireplace, ensuring everything was returned to its original state. He then took out some of his previous work to share with Hedy, looking like a carefree child in the process.
The Medici family was silently balancing the power between multiple city-states, Sforza was busy with usurping power and holding his late brother’s young son hostage in Milan, Botticelli was lost in pagan myths and visions of hell, still crying over an old love.
But Da Vinci? He sat at the table, happily showing her props like angel wings that could flap.
"Look! They can even move from side to side!" he exclaimed.
He had gathered feathers from white geese and ducks and crafted a half-iron frame to support the wings, preparing them for use as stage props for actors.
The two wings were graceful and grand, the lines smooth and the feathers snow-white, a remarkably high level of craftsmanship.
Hedy stood by, watching him explain how to twist the mechanism to make the wings open and close, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
If he were alive in the modern world, she thought, he’d probably sleep in a Broadway theater and never leave.
Da Vinci had a natural passion and dedication for the theater and stage.
He could create all sorts of tracks and pulley systems to help actors perform miracles on stage that looked indistinguishable from reality.
When he wasn’t painting or had a new idea, he would rush to the theater to help with the set design, personally adding flowers and trees to the background, even grabbing a hammer to fix broken chairs.
He loved music, poetry, and sometimes even joined the actors, playing seemingly insignificant roles.
Hedy had imagined, when learning about all of this, what it would be like to bring him to the modern world—such an avant-garde and inspired person would surely thrive in any industry.
She had also helped out at theaters, slowly starting to recognize the budding talents and ideas around her.
The Middle Ages were considered the dark ages of God's dominion. Whether it was literature or painting, human will was subordinated to God, and all of life and creation were to be offered to Him.
As a result, almost all oil paintings centered around the Bible—scenes like the Adoration of the Magi or the Annunciation were depicted over and over again, and the theater often performed tired, old plays.
People revered the Pope and the Church, manipulated by the Bible and various threats, passively praying for happiness after death.
Yet, even in this environment, individuals like Botticelli and Da Vinci began to emerge, becoming more numerous over time.
Botticelli boldly painted pagan myths, channeling his emotions through the beauty of Venus.
Da Vinci, on the other hand, ignored the threats of the devout, spending months in cadaver rooms without concern.
On her way back from the Doge’s Palace, Hedy suddenly realized something about the lord.
He, too, was a leader of the Renaissance, in his own way.
Whether it was indulging Botticelli or employing someone like her, his pragmatic pursuit of profit was, ironically, helping the world become a better place.
After learning this secret, Hedy needed time to adjust her words and expressions.
Her plan remained unchanged: to continue gaining his trust and, using economics as a point of entry, further drive military development.
At this moment, it was already evening. The lord was drinking wine and reading letters, while the faint sounds of nightingales and starlings could be heard outside the window.
Hedy carefully chose her words as she "recounted" the relevant rumors, making careful additions and deletions to the details while skillfully emphasizing certain points.
"...That’s why merchants are questioning the bank’s operational capabilities," Hedy paused, giving her final hint. "If you could further improve the entire industrial chain, perhaps other sectors would run much more smoothly."
For some reason, Hedy felt that Lord Medici wasn’t quite himself today; he seemed a bit distracted, almost lost in thought.
After she finished her report, she waited for a while, but there was no response.
"Lord?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"You... can leave for now," came his voice, muffled and strained, with a faint rasping sound that seemed to carry an undertone of pain.
He was injured?!
"Lord?" Hedy moved instinctively a step closer, concern growing. "Where does it hurt?"
The man’s face was already pale from the pain, clutching his leg but unable to form any words. He waved his hand quickly, and his servant, Cosimo, rushed to close the door and windows, then began tying a bandage around his leg.
"Let me help you," Hedy said, her voice firm. "The bandage may relieve the pain slightly, but it could also make the situation worse."
The lord was sweating cold beads of perspiration now, and he waved his hand, signaling Cosimo to leave.
His knee was noticeably swollen, and the touch felt very strange.
Hedy’s mind blanked for a few seconds, and then it hit her. "Is it gout?!" she exclaimed.
She almost couldn’t remember the corresponding Italian term.
The lord gritted his teeth through what felt like an agonizing ten-minute bout of pain, then collapsed onto the couch, like a survivor of a brutal fight with a wild beast.
Hedy had rarely seen Medici so weak and exhausted.
In front of others, he was always sharp, decisive, and commanding.
But just a few moments ago, he had been writhing in pain, nearly falling to the floor, relying entirely on his servant to hold him up.
"This is a rich man’s disease, only a few lords and kings get it," Cosimo said as he wiped the sweat from the lord’s neck, his tone complicated. "But I’ve heard some doctors say that it can help prevent strokes and paralysis, so it’s actually a good thing."
—What kind of theory is that?!
Hedy began massaging his knee, then looked up, asking about his medical history.
Gout could be inherited and was heavily influenced by lifestyle. The pain could be so severe that it felt like it could kill a person.
It could afflict anyone, regardless of age, and was notoriously difficult to cure.
Once struck by this affliction, one might have to bid farewell to peaceful sleep every night.
She had a friend who suffered greatly from it, and even with modern medications, it was a brutal experience.
“It’s been four or five years now, but the attacks have been getting more frequent.
It used to be two or three times a year, but now it happens once every two or three months,” Cosimo observed, looking at the lord, who was too exhausted to respond.
The lord had been extremely busy lately, and his energy had long been depleted.
"Is that so?" Hedy hesitated for a moment, then spoke frankly. "This disease cannot be fully cured, but if you don't change your lifestyle, it will only become more painful in the future."
"What?" Cosimo looked confused. "Don’t the pains subside after a few days?"
"This illness is like a demon," Hedy's tone grew more serious. "It will remain here, and it can flare up at any time." She paused, making sure her words were clear. "The most important thing is to stop drinking."
She vaguely recalled that the lord would die prematurely in his forties, his health failing him due to this condition. After his death, Florence would descend into chaos, with countless people taking advantage of the situation.
No... He must survive.
Cosimo looked troubled, glancing at the lord before turning to the young alchemist. "No wine? What about beer or ale?"
"None of it. No more alcohol," Hedy replied without hesitation. "It’s best to avoid any internal organs and red meat as well. As much as possible, avoid them."
"Miss Kiesler, I don’t understand," Cosimo said, his confusion evident. "Isn’t this illness related to... whatever you were saying about microorganisms? Why does it have to do with food?"
"Do you remember the demon I mentioned?" Hedy adopted a tone similar to how she had once taught her son about eating sugar, her stance becoming more forceful. "Any kind of alcohol, red meat, anchovies, shellfish—all of these are offerings to that demon."
"If the lord refuses to control his diet, the demon will grow stronger and only bring more endless pain."
Lorenzo slightly opened his eyes, his voice hoarse and weak as he spoke.
"Three glasses of wine a day, would that be enough?"
Hedy shook her head, clearly unwilling to compromise on this matter.
"You can gradually reduce it. Start with five glasses a day, then cut it down to one a day, then one every two days, until you no longer drink at all."
"If you allow your body to deteriorate like this, it is irresponsible to both your family and to Florence."
The lord clutched the blanket tightly, then hesitantly asked after a long pause, "What about malt liquor?"
"No," Hedy replied firmly. "If you're thirsty, you can have orange juice or boiled water instead."
She could sense that he trusted her, but she still said with a serious tone, "If your condition does not improve under the control of your diet and water intake, I will accept any punishment."
Lorenzo lay there, his knee still burning with pain, exhausted and frustrated. At this moment, he was silent, as if sulking.
Hedy sighed inwardly, glancing at the distant fire before continuing to massage his injured knee.
For some reason, she suddenly began to softly sing an old Austrian folk song.
"Edelweiss, edelweiss..."
Her voice was gentle and calming, making one feel drowsy, wanting to drift off to sleep.
"Small and white, and bright..."
This song, later popularized worldwide by The Sound of Music, made Hedy a bit homesick.
She missed life in America and also the memories of her childhood in Vienna.
The song was long and melodic, the tune as soft as velvet.
Cosimo stood silently nearby, and suddenly noticed that the lord had fallen into a deep sleep.
Normally, when he had these attacks, he would endure it alone, the pain often lasting for hours, sometimes affecting his movement for days after.
But for centuries, there had been no effective way to cure this disease, and people began to believe it was merely a sign of wealth and privilege. The suffering, though, was something others could never fully understand.
Hedy continued massaging for a long while before realizing that he had fallen into a deep sleep.
It was hard to imagine… someone who had made such remarkable contributions to science and culture, and yet was only thirty years old.
She carefully covered him with the blanket, trying not to make a sound, then quietly left the office.
Cosimo followed her out and, with a serious expression, thanked her.
"Lord, when is your birthday?"
"January 1st, in just over a month."
The first day of the new year?
Hedy paused, suddenly recalling something.
At the beginning of this year, she had just moved into the Doge’s Palace, still in a semi-house arrest situation, and was unaware of many things.
The grand banquet held at the palace back then—was one of them actually for his birthday?
This was definitely a great opportunity to get closer.
She needed to quickly prepare a gift—one that would be memorable enough that he could never forget it.