CHAPTER 11 #4
He selected suitable people from the academy to write articles that weren’t too esoteric, as well as reports on the trivial matters between city-states. He also cleverly had people start writing small stories in the style of Decameron in the sidebar.
When Hedy saw those melodramatic and popular stories alongside the newspaper in Italy, she couldn’t help but admire the Medici family’s commercial talent.
In fact, stories like Decameron were almost more scandalous than the modern tabloids.
On her way to Milan, she had read several of those stories and had been left speechless for a while.
What stayed with her the most was the story of a beautiful woman who, while her husband was away, frequently had an affair with her lover in the house.
When the husband unexpectedly returned, she called him over to help her scrub a large wooden barrel.
They both bent over to peer into the barrel, while she pointed out where they needed to scrub more.
The lover, meanwhile, stood behind her, continuing his indulgence. ..
Such stories didn’t seem all that rare in the Middle Ages.
By now, even the existence of illegitimate children had become widely accepted. The Medici gentleman, who had long been without any illegitimate children, had even been praised for his virtue.
Later, when flipping through the newspapers every week, Hedy would occasionally glance at Da Vinci.
Some stories were so bad they were hard to speak of, even more embarrassing than certain scenes in public baths.
After reading those stories, she would look at the painter, who was intently studying the tail feathers of a pigeon, and feel incredulous.
In a country where such customs were prevalent, there could still exist such a pure and single-minded person.
He would create strong city walls, be handsome, and speak elegantly, but he would have no impure thoughts about either women or men—perhaps that was what an angel was.
By the sixth day of the injections, the rooster had fully recovered. The previous inflammation and pus had completely disappeared, and it was clear that the experiment had been a success.
This—was truly incredible!
Compared to the cosmetic surgeries she had designed in modern times, or the miracles of the new era, the fact that the penicillin she had personally created worked successfully made her feel so joyful that she wanted to dance.
This was the dark and backward Middle Ages... and she had done it!
Hedy wrote a detailed report on her findings and submitted it promptly to the lord.
Suddenly, she had two bold ideas, each requiring time and money.
The first was to build a sufficiently large workshop, using containers that were even taller than a person, to store larger quantities of penicillin.
Before the advent of antibiotics, one of the main causes of death in wars wasn’t just from the bullets and shrapnel but also from the infections caused by various wounds.
If she could create larger containers and ferment more of the fungal cultures at a faster rate, perhaps she could produce enough penicillin to save people’s lives!
The second idea was to find new strains of mold.
This came from an accidental discovery.
Due to illness, the cucumber on her fruit plate had been left uneaten for a long time and became moldy.
When Dechio was about to throw them away, Hedy stopped him, deciding to experiment again with these cucumbers and golden staphylococcus.
To her surprise, the result was the same as before.
She had no idea where else penicillin-producing molds might exist in plants or whether there were any differences between them.
But the mold on the cucumbers grew much faster than on the orange peels.
"My lord, this is probably like growing peas," Dechio muttered. "Even though it’s all about planting beans, the ones in the south with fewer flowers grow faster."
Could it be that there were different varieties of penicillin-producing molds?
Hedy thought about it for a long time and decided to collect a variety of green and light green plants, recording and observing how they grew mold in different conditions.
Da Vinci, who had painting and theater commissions to attend to, couldn’t help but visit her lab whenever he had a moment.
Lorenzo had arranged for her a new independent workshop near Palazzo Vecchio, which not only provided a larger space for her experiments but also allowed her growing number of rabbits to run wild and graze.
Every time Da Vinci came over, he eagerly helped her observe the mold growth on various fruits and even kept her updated on the rooster’s progress.
Sometimes, while listening to him, Hedy would suddenly imagine deep-frying that rooster with breadcrumbs and salt, maybe even sprinkling it with black pepper.
...Did black pepper exist in this time?
It did, though it was extremely expensive—so expensive it was harder to afford than a spoonful of purple dye.
Feeling like a little rich lady, Hedy, upon learning the price, decided she would have salted chicken instead.
...Modern times were definitely better.
It took a long time for the lord to respond, but when he did, his feedback was thorough and comprehensive.
He agreed to Hedy’s request to establish the "Penicillin Workshop." After all, the costs were minimal—less than ten gold coins a month—compared to the artwork he had purchased and the properties he had reclaimed from the pests. It was practically nothing.
In the entire Doge's Palace, apart from the Medici family, Botticelli was probably the wealthiest person.
One of his paintings could earn over a hundred gold coins, and on top of that, there were various occasional rewards. His status and position were almost on par with a member of the Medici family, having grown up with them.
In addition, Botticelli had opened a two-story painting studio, hiring various sculptors and painters to do the work while he just sat back and counted his gold coins.
As Hedy was instructing workers to build the large mixing vats for the penicillin, she suddenly thought of these things and had a vague inspiration.
Shouldn’t she also... find some larger business ventures to pursue?
Perhaps she could sell oil paints or open multiple chain textile workshops?
The machinery for the penicillin workshop had all been designed by Da Vinci, and clearly, he had great contributions to the industrial side of things.
It almost seemed as though there was nothing he couldn’t do.
This era had already invented the upstroke waterwheel, and both the kinetic structure and fuel were constantly improving.
Initially, she had planned to send workers for round-the-clock mixing, but everything was replaced by the interlocking machinery Da Vinci had created.
This reminded Hedy of the days when she had created the frequency-hopping communication patent—she would come up with abstract concepts and ideas, while the professors at Caltech did the actual engineering and construction.
But compared to those professors, Leonardo was a self-taught genius.
He loved books, loved knowledge in both the sciences and the arts, and when he grew tired of sketching, he would play her a tune on his lyre.
And there was never any possibility of him hurting her.
Once the construction of the penicillin workshop was on track, Hedy couldn’t resist visiting his workshop.
"Do you have any other designs?"
"Can I see them?"
Maybe by uncovering more of his ideas and letting him shine even brighter, all of Florence would be blessed.
Da Vinci was finishing the final touches on the coloring of a portrait of a noblewoman and gestured for her to wait a moment.
His brushstrokes were incredibly textured; even the delicate, egg-white-like transparency of the skin was conveyed with precision.
Hedy stood by for a while, instinctively adjusting the egg tempera for him and refilling the wine that kept disappearing.
It was stored in a corked glass bottle, and the effect was quite nice. When poured, a fresh fragrance wafted through the air.
Da Vinci sometimes became so immersed in his work that he lost track of time. It wasn’t until his muscles ached and he paused to rub his neck that he realized someone was still standing beside him.
The bell tower of Giotto struck at the right moment, signaling that three hours had passed.
"Sorry, I just wanted to finish filling in that side," he stood up instinctively, apologizing to his temporary assistant. "I didn’t mean to make you wait so long…"
Hedy was calm about it. She had grown accustomed to this dynamic between them.
Both of them were busy with different tasks, each absorbed in their quiet and orderly thoughts. There was no need for idle chatter or even any direct eye contact. It was a very independent and natural way of being.
To make up for it, Da Vinci took her to a nearby tavern where they had fresh stew, and once they both had rested enough, he took her back to the workshop to show her the manuscripts he had accumulated.
The candlelight was dim, and the nightingale’s song filled the air. The atmosphere felt almost like a date.
But Hedy, absorbed in flipping through the manuscripts, regarded him as a reliable friend, just like she would another woman.
Perhaps other men would have had some sort of impulse at this moment, but Leonardo surely wouldn’t.
He was far more interested in lifting devices and perpetual motion machines. His various simulation manuscripts could fill several pages.
In addition, there were strange mechanical birds, flying machines, spiral jacks, and a peculiar creation that resembled an old vinyl record.
"Leonardo, what is this?"
She raised a notebook, signaling for him to come over and look at the sketch.
"This is... a needle grinder," Da Vinci replied, pulling out a charcoal pencil and marking clearer arrows beside the design. "You see, once this person turns the handle, this grinding device and polishing belt will grind the needles."
"Needle grinder?"