CHAPTER 14
Atalante had been quite a loyal manager and assistant, helping her a great deal when they were in Florence.
Now, in Milan, he was studying mathematical knowledge while also assisting Hedy in managing several of her cheese workshops.
It was said that her products were being resold by various merchants to France and Venice, with sales proving to be quite brisk.
Since Hedy had some free time, she decided to try transferring some of her watercolor techniques to oil painting.
She wasn't used to this medium and had always maintained a cautious attitude toward the use of mummies.
However, the high cost and foul smell of purple pigment were truly a great regret.
To remedy this, Hedy once attempted to extract color from grape skins and violets, but found that the cost and craftsmanship involved were far too complicated. She eventually gave up—
Most of the juice pressed from grapes was red, and the pigment from the skins was difficult to extract, far more complicated than she had imagined.
As news spread, more and more people learned that the young and wise female scholar had arrived in Milan. Several nobles sent invitations, hoping to foster relationships and chat with her, so they could help each other in the future.
Moreover, many academies in Milan reached out to her, hoping she would lead lectures and demonstrations like she had at the Florence Academy, bringing further enlightenment to them.
While browsing bookstores, Hedy came across a replica of On the Four Elements, the text's writing clear and familiar.
—It really is quite popular.
She suddenly had an idea and, while the workshop was expanding and fulfilling orders, she began to think about transcribing all the content she remembered from before.
The memos she had written in modern English and German years ago had accumulated into several small notebooks, which she had brought with her and was now in the process of organizing and transcribing.
It was undeniable that, after living in an Italian-speaking environment for so long, her English was rapidly deteriorating, while her French had become much more fluent.
Some of the new American terms now seemed both absurd and real when she recalled them.
She flipped through the pages, reading her notes and organizing an outline, trying to uncover various clues.
A somewhat unfamiliar word jumped out at her:
litmus.
"Litmus test" means a touchstone or a trial, but this word was circled, clearly suggesting it had another meaning.
This note was written four years ago on Christmas Eve, and she could hardly remember what had happened back then.
But litmus also referred to a plant—lichens.
Hedy sat the whole afternoon, and finally, she recalled something that happened nearly seventy years ago.
In chemistry class, she had once heard about a fascinating experiment.
A purple powder, when dissolved in water, turned into a beautiful light purple.
But if an acidic solution was added, the liquid in the test tube would turn red.
Add an alkaline solution, and it would turn blue again.
This was the most interesting part—this liquid exhibited three distinct properties, and it seemed related to that plant.
Hedy wasn’t sure what the plant looked like, so she had to go to the library to search through ancient texts.
Fortunately, besides the usual, dull, and tedious theological works, there were many books on nature and animals, well-preserved in the library.
She forced herself to read the not-so-friendly Greek and Italian, cross-referencing key terms translated from the dictionary with corresponding illustrations or sentences.
It took her about a week before she finally found the relevant description.
"Scaly, plate-like… red fruit… decayed wood…"
In this old book, which was so dusty it made her sneeze multiple times, she found the explanation.
There was a lichen-like plant that grew on rocks and decayed wood throughout the year, bearing bright red fruit, with deep green or blackish leaves.
When this plant was crushed, it released a light purple liquid, which also seemed to have hemostatic properties.
A note was added beside it: "Touching may cause poisoning."
Hedy, by the light of the oil lamp, sketched the plant based on this description from the book, and then, with a newly bought knight's novel in hand, she returned home.
Dechio raised the invitation letter he had received earlier when he saw her return.
Hedy quickly put her things down and began reading through the letters one by one.
She had already visited the Sforza court, where the lord had consulted her about gout, but it seemed he had no intention of quitting drinking.
Several other noble families, either out of the desire to make connections or simply out of politeness, had already invited her over as well.
Her fingers paused for a moment as she suddenly came across a letter with elegant and forceful handwriting.
It was from the Duchy of Ferrara.
A young duchess’s daughter invited her and Leonardo to visit, the tone friendly and enthusiastic.
Ferrara bordered the eastern part of Milan, and a round-trip could take about a month.
Hedy thought for a moment and decided to wait for Leonardo’s return to ask for his opinion.
She had heard that the young woman was quite independent and had a lot of ideas. Getting to know her could prove to be very interesting.
“Mr. Leonardo has already returned, and brought some fish with him. He’s helping prepare them in the backyard,” Dechio seemed to have guessed what she was thinking and explained at the right moment. “You can just go and ask him directly.”
Hedy nodded and quickly walked down the corridor.
Before she could see him, she first heard strange animal sounds.
It sounded like the honk of a wild goose, hoarse and somewhat harsh, which struck her as odd.
Hedy paused for a moment and then rounded the corner to see what Leonardo was doing.
The young man was holding a flapping wild duck, its legs tied up.
In the cage beside him, there were two fluffy, round little creatures that looked somewhat like otters.
However, considering the water environment here… she thought they might be beavers.
“Are you planning to eat them?”
“Hm?” Leonardo seemed a bit flustered. One hand was holding the duck’s neck, and the other hand was covered with bird feathers. “How about some fish tonight?”
Hedy thought she must be seeing things. “Where’s the fish?”
“Isn’t this it?” Leonardo raised the duck’s long neck somewhat confusedly. The wild duck honked like a horn, trying to kick its broken leg. “And there’s fish in the cage beside it too.”
Hedy fell silent for a few seconds, then decided to teach him how to prepare the food: “We should first scald it to remove the feathers; it’ll be easier to prepare afterward.”
The definitions of vegetarianism and many other terms were quite strange in this era.
On important holidays, like Christmas Eve, people were only allowed to eat vegetarian food according to church rules.
However, fish was not considered part of vegetarian food—so people ate pike and cod while still being devout and faithful followers.
But according to Leonardo’s reasoning, all waterfowl and animals related to the sea could be considered fish... the scope of vegetarianism was quite broad indeed.
Together, they hurriedly plucked the wild duck and cut it into pieces, then began discussing how to cook it.
Based on Leonardo’s usual taste, he would likely coat it with layer after layer of spices and then stew it into a big pot of fragrant meat broth.
Hedy looked at the plump wild duck and, after considering, slammed down the carving knife to split it in half: “We can eat the other half tomorrow.”
“Does it need to be dried?” Leonardo asked instinctively. “It’s been so humid recently, it might spoil by tomorrow night.”
Hedy suddenly remembered something, slapped her forehead, and said, “I have something I forgot to show you.”
She turned and ran over to the nearby well, pulling up a bucket.
Inside the bucket was cold well water, along with a sealed glass container, inside of which were irregular ice cubes.
“This will do,” Hedy clapped her hands together, placing the half-duck into the bucket and feeling quite satisfied. “How does this look?”
“What is this?” Leonardo instinctively asked. “I’ve never seen something like this before.”
He instinctively reached out to touch one of the translucent cubes, only to quickly retract his hand as if he had been burned.
He checked his hand, confirming it hadn’t been burned, and then turned to Hedy, looking as confused as a child.
“This is… ice,” Hedy replied, momentarily taken aback. “You’ve never seen it before?”
He cautiously reached out again, touching the cube for a moment before quickly pulling his hand back.
“No,” Leonardo admitted honestly. “Where did it come from?”
Hedy suddenly realized something.
He was from Florence, and it never snowed in Florence.
It was strange, though—when she was older, she had lived for a long time in Florida on the East Coast of the United States, and in 1989, she had witnessed a heavy snowfall, where walking outside felt like sinking into soft, fluffy sponge.
But in the four years she had spent in Florence, the winters had been filled only with chilly, drizzling rain, the kind that made people want to sleep in all day.
“So, have you… ever seen snow?”
“I’ve seen illustrations of snow-capped mountains,” Leonardo said uncertainly. “Did you see it in Rome?”
No... the snow in Austria was beautiful.
If I could, I would take you to see it.
Hedy sighed and began explaining the existence of ice, while also making a bowl of apple-citrus sorbet, drizzling it with some syrup.
At first, the young man hesitated, stirring the sorbet with his spoon, before tasting a small spoonful. His eyes suddenly lit up.
Dusk was the hottest time of day, but after those two bites of cold, sweet, strange food, he felt so comfortable he wanted to close his eyes.