CHAPTER 10 #6
Hedy, wearing a rather plain dress, leaned against a pillar in an inconspicuous corner, sipping a half cup of malt beer.
As a modern woman, she had witnessed many grand scenes at MGM.
But she could never have imagined that such a spectacular and magnificent scene would be so vividly enacted five hundred years ago.
These things cannot be preserved or influenced, much like lighting a flower on fire—
Once the flame fades, everything returns to silence.
Yet Leonardo, the man who has illuminated art history with countless sparks, also had such great works in this realm.
From the snake charmer from Turkey to the halos and wings of angels, all of these were designed by his very hands.
By the time she finished her drink, she could hear several young women eagerly discussing his name.
Leonardo...
In the next moment, the man with brown hair and eyes appeared before her.
"Would you care to dance?"
She lifted her head to look at him, instinctively raising a smile.
"Sure."
This great director of the Renaissance had been busy for quite some time, overseeing the mechanical controls of the background, urging actors to change costumes, and after the performance, thanking the duke and Mr. Sforza for their patronage.
By the time the night came to an end, he was starving.
Following the scent of bread and wine, he made his way over, only to find his maid sipping her drink, lost in thought.
For some reason, he suddenly decided to put food and drink aside and, while the crowd hadn't fully dispersed, take her out into the sea of people to dance a volta together.
The sound of a plucking piano and flutes intertwined, and amidst the noise, the faint laughter of young ladies could be heard.
Hedy, somewhat unskilled, followed his steps, her gaze instinctively drawn to his eyes.
I am... dancing with Leonardo da Vinci.
Dancing a dance from five hundred years ago.
His eyes reminded her of amber—clear and gentle, with a faint glow.
A person like him, like a boy, like a young man, yet possessing everything a mature man should—elegant speech, handsome appearance, and a clear and perceptive mind.
Someone announced that the last dance was about to begin, and the musicians paused for a second before simultaneously playing The Blue Danube.
“I brought your song here,” he looked down at her, his voice low and magnetic.
“It really is beautiful.”
Hedy spun around once, gazing at the heaven-like dome, half embracing his shoulder. “How does it feel to dance with a maid?”
“Quite nice,” Leonardo raised an eyebrow, “It’s my honor.”
As the ball came to a close, the first half of the night was nearly over.
They returned to the floor where the guests were staying, bidding each other a simple farewell at the door.
“Goodnight, Mr. Da Vinci.”
“It’s Leonardo,” he corrected gently.
Hedy smiled, her light blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight like the Aegean Sea.
“Goodnight, Leonardo.”
They had stayed in Milan for nearly two months, and when they prepared to leave, it was already mid-July.
Returning was always a good thing—
She could continue using the Medici family’s private bath, and it was time to leave the vacation state behind and get back to studying history and maps.
On the way back, Da Vinci had already filled six notebooks with ideas and was still organizing his new inspirations.
Perhaps it was the bumpy journey, but he finally started to feel dizzy, putting his notes down and turning to look at the scenery outside.
Atalante was still practicing on the lyre, the melody broken and off-key.
Da Vinci helped him adjust his wrist and finger placement, then began to chat with Hedy as he listened to the music.
“I’ve considered settling in Milan in the future.”
He liked the strong-willed leaders and the atmosphere in Milan, full of creativity and imagination.
Da Vinci began explaining the benefits of living in Milan, such as having more opportunities to be involved in theater planning, or perhaps meeting new painters and quickly figuring out some of the painting techniques that even dissection couldn’t explain.
Hedy, also feeling a bit carsick, listened drowsily and occasionally murmured in agreement.
She had grown accustomed to such conversations ever since she started working as his maid in his workshop.
Da Vinci’s thoughts always jumped from one idea to another, making endless associations and detours, and sometimes he would talk on without pause for quite a while.
“And you?” he suddenly asked.
“Me?” she rubbed her eyes, still struggling to catch up with the new topic. “What about me?”
“Where do you plan to settle in the future?” Da Vinci asked curiously. “Do you plan to continue serving the Medici family long-term?”
“Wait—” Hedy interrupted his question, then countered, “Why would you want me to come with you if you're planning to settle in Milan?”
“Because—” Da Vinci answered honestly, “A friend like you is hard to come by.”
“Someone who knows a little bit about almost everything and can find surprises in the smallest things.”
Many of Hedy's likes and interests were almost identical to Da Vinci's.
He yearned for a new life, yet he couldn't quite let go of this friend.
If she joined him, they could study even more things together, and when it came time for further dissections, she could help guide him.
Hedy, not giving a definite answer, continued to listen as he spoke about various rumors from different royal courts.
What she cared about were the rights to speak and to participate.
More than Milan's stronger military, Venice's development and stability, or Naples' prosperous trade, she valued her own role in shaping things.
Even if she could temporarily enjoy a life of luxury, without being able to influence strategic decisions or historical progress, the best life could easily be destroyed by an unforeseen event.
In this respect, Florence was the best choice.
The lord there would listen to her ideas and concerns, and his attitude was calm and clear-headed.
At this stage, he was the most beneficial collaborator for her.
In such a stagnant era, it was rare for a woman to have a voice, and even rarer to be involved in academic research and similar matters.
For her to have reached this point in just three years was a stroke of luck in an otherwise unlucky situation.
"By the way," Hedy snapped out of her drifting thoughts and looked at the young man plucking the strings of the lyre. "Atalante, what do you want to do in the future?"
"I don't know," the boy set down the instrument. "I might go to the painter's workshop as an apprentice, travel with Mr. Da Vinci to Milan, or try my luck in Venice—maybe become a singer."
"A singer?" Da Vinci chuckled and shook his head. "You're too late for that."
"Why?" The boy protested. "Sir, it only took me one day to learn that song you taught me, and Aunt Sofia even praised me for singing it well."
"That's not the issue," Da Vinci looked at the boy's slightly protruding Adam's apple. "You're too late for castration."
Hedy, drinking some wine from a small glass bottle, almost choked on the words.
"Cough, cough—What?!"
"Castration," Da Vinci pointed at the boy's throat. "You see, he's already past the right time."
"No—" Hedy, still in disbelief, pressed the cork back into the bottle. "The point is not the Adam's apple. Why would you need to be castrated to sing?"
"Because male singers need not only more power than sopranos, but they also have to have a high enough vocal range," Da Vinci explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If you're going to study singing professionally, you need to have it done by the time you're eleven or twelve."
This was a choice for many poor families—after all, it could bring in substantial earnings, and even a respectable position in the choir.
Atalante fell silent for a few seconds. "I think I'll go to Venice."
The journey from Milan back to Florence took eight days. The small town was still bustling with people, and it seemed no different from before.
They returned together to the Doge’s Palace, and after meeting with the lord, they each went off to rest.
Hedy had been observing Mr. Medici’s complexion and condition.
He looked quite healthy, and his face had a bit of a flush.
It seemed that his gout hadn’t flared up recently.
Dechio was waiting at the door, with even fresh clothes prepared.
"The bath has just been filled with hot water, and new towels are ready for you."
Hedy almost wanted to give her a big hug. She hurried to the bath and soaked herself.
There hadn't been anything particularly eventful in the past few days. Although the Feast of the Assumption was still more than half a month away, many scholars and painters had already taken their breaks.
The climate here was typical of the Mediterranean: hot and dry in the summer, mild and rainy in the winter.
During July and August, many shops closed early, and there were farmers swimming and enjoying themselves by the Arno River.
Hedy spent some time looking at new drafts of paintings at Botticelli's, and when she stepped out, she ran into Da Vinci.
He was heading out to buy various new materials, and they chatted as they walked together.
As they passed the statue of David, Hedy instinctively glanced at it for a moment longer, and Da Vinci noticed this small gesture.
"What are you looking at?"
She awkwardly pulled her gaze away and cleared her throat as if nothing had happened.
She had actually been looking at... certain private parts of David.
To flaunt their wealth and taste, many nobles would place statues inside and outside their palaces, but most of them were nude men.
They could have been clothed or draped in fabric, yet the key areas were usually left exposed.
...Why are those parts of these men all so small?
Da Vinci noticed her subconsciously glancing again and suddenly realized, bursting into laughter.
"So that’s what you were looking at?"