CHAPTER 15 #6
Da Vinci walked over, tired but determined, his expression complex as he looked at her.
He noticed Botticelli and the little boy, feeling a mix of hesitation and displeasure. But when his gaze turned to Hedy, it was as if all other emotions no longer mattered.
"Da Vinci? What brings you here?" Hedy realized something and got up to greet him. "How is everything at home?"
"Atalante has already sent Sarai back, and he’s taking care of things at home," Da Vinci, having ridden through the night, spoke with a slightly hoarse voice. "I came to… see you."
Botticelli, understanding the situation, gently scooped up the focused little Raphael along with his paintbrushes and carried them both away, giving the two of them some private space.
Hedy hadn’t expected him to actually come to find her, and she lowered her gaze with a bit of helplessness, saying, “You don’t need to think too much about it... that matter is already behind us.”
Now that the troublesome little rascal was gone, she certainly needed to thank Atalante when she returned.
“I have a feeling you’re angry with me,” Da Vinci noticed the change in how she referred to him and the distance between them, but he didn’t dare to approach her recklessly. He lowered his voice, adding, “I hope to regain your trust... Hedy, I’m not that foolish.”
She raised a smile and glanced at him, responding with an indifferent hum.
Da Vinci sensed she hadn't truly let down her guard. He lowered his head and took out a slightly squished bunch of yellow daffodils, sighing as he considered throwing them away.
Hedy instinctively stopped him, gently taking the flattened flowers from him and murmuring a quiet thank you.
Da Vinci froze for a moment and then smiled like a child.
"I’ll be better," he said seriously, as if worried she would leave again in haste. "Please give me some more time."
She remained silent for a few seconds before nodding.
Well, she could wait a little longer... and see.
However, Da Vinci had no idea how to court a woman.
Although he had handled plenty of orders from noblewomen in the past and was meticulous in his work, this kind of task, which required him to close the distance between them, left him awkward and unsure where to begin.
If it were Sarai, or something else he was passionate about, expressing his feelings was easy—he’d buy all kinds of shiny trinkets, luxurious soft shawls, or expensive jeweled silver candlesticks.
He was clumsy and stubborn, unable to express affection like the smooth-talking men who knew how to charm.
But Hedy... she clearly didn’t need many gifts.
He didn’t even know how to get closer to her.
So when Da Vinci realized Botticelli was still around, he felt an immense sense of relief inside.
However, Botticelli hadn’t only returned from Rome after completing the frescoes for the Sistine Chapel, but he had also grown into a more established and esteemed artist, with a young boy now by his side.
What was even stranger to Hedy was that, despite her usual coldness and distance toward Sarai, she would smile warmly at the boy and even kiss his cheek when she saw him.
When Da Vinci first noticed this, his immediate reaction was to doubt Atalante’s earlier analysis, thinking that it must have been nonsense.
Why did she—like that child so much?
She had even made him a new pair of socks—something she had never received herself!
The artist, watching the boy being playfully held and laughed at, suddenly understood a little of the feeling he had when he wanted to get rid of Sarai in the past.
She wasn’t even smiling at him anymore... Why should that new little boy get so much affection?
Taking advantage of a gap in time, Da Vinci made his way to Botticelli’s studio.
The handsome young artist was leaning by the door, basking in the sunlight. When he saw his friend, he looked up and smiled, "How's Milan?"
Da Vinci had many questions to ask him, but he started with, "That boy—what’s going on?"
"Raphael? I was just about to talk to you about him," Botticelli turned, leading him into the studio. He greeted the boy sitting on a high stool, diligently working on a line drawing, then gestured to two paintings nearby. "What do you think?"
Da Vinci paused, his eyes wide with surprise and focus. "Did he draw these?"
The sketch beside him was not only accurate in its contours and balanced in its lines, but with just a few strokes, it captured the character’s expression and the folds of the crown with remarkable clarity.
— How did a three- or four-year-old child manage to create such a mature piece of work?
Painting required not only inspiration and talent but also a great deal of fundamental skills and muscle technique. The seemingly simple horizontal and vertical lines, as well as shadows, required precise control of strength to achieve.
Yet Raphael’s sketch not only portrayed the muscles around the nose, forehead, and neck, but it also captured the details of the eyebrows and eyelids with incredible precision.
Incredible—
Da Vinci turned his attention fully to the drawing, "Is this a technique you taught him?"
"No, his father is an experienced artist," Botticelli explained. "Although not wealthy or famous, he did teach the boy some essential basics."
As their conversation continued, Botticelli led Da Vinci to another of his paintings.
This was probably the third version of The Adoration of the Magi that Botticelli had created. The banker’s guild had insisted on commissioning him again, and so he had altered the composition and theme for a fresh interpretation.
When Da Vinci had worked on his own version of The Adoration of the Magi, despite his verbal disdain, he had honestly studied Botticelli’s composition and coloring for quite some time.
That was several years ago, but Da Vinci still remembered it clearly—though he couldn’t agree with Botticelli’s expression of relationships and emotions in the figures, at least in terms of color and composition, his friend had a truly unique approach.
Now, as they looked at this new painting together, it felt as if two old friends were silently understanding each other’s perspectives.
Raphael, still a young apprentice, had only helped with adding details like flowers and children in the courtyard.
But even with just those few touches, Da Vinci could easily recognize Raphael's hand in them.
“He’s going to be a genius,” Da Vinci murmured. “His understanding of angles and positioning... it’s almost unbelievable.”
"Right?" Botticelli smiled, waving for Raphael to come over and explain his thoughts and ideas while painting.
The three of them spent time in the studio, either admiring the painting or discussing techniques. Eventually, they mixed paint together, demonstrating and explaining to each other. Before they knew it, the day had turned to evening.
As it came time to leave, little Raphael had already started to see Da Vinci as a teacher.
“Goodbye, Mr. Da Vinci,” he said, his voice bright and clear as he held his head high. “Will you come again tomorrow?”
“I definitely will, little angel,” Da Vinci replied, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to paint neck muscles and the curve of fingers, how does that sound?”
The boy cheered and gave him a big hug.
Da Vinci, smiling, returned to his quarters. As he walked back, it suddenly hit him.
What was I even supposed to be doing with Botticelli today?
Was I supposed to be painting?
No, wait—
He suddenly snapped to attention, realizing he hadn’t even bothered to wash the paint off his hands as he rushed downstairs to find Botticelli.
Botticelli was lazily reclining on a bench, surrounded by a group of women, eating apricots. The air around them was filled with the sweet, swirling sounds of songs and the seductive rhythm of their dances, giving the entire courtyard a dreamy atmosphere.
When Botticelli saw Da Vinci return quickly, he gestured for the women to rest on the other side and waved the apricot in his fingers. “The little angel has gone to bed. He needs to grow taller first.”
“No…” Da Vinci, now standing right in front of him, hesitated slightly.
“What’s the matter?” Botticelli straightened up, signaling for Da Vinci to sit next to him. “Is there a problem in Milan? Is Sforza causing you trouble?”
Da Vinci fell silent for a moment before quietly responding, “No, it’s about her.”
“She?” Botticelli raised an eyebrow. “Is your friend getting married? Do you think your friendship is under threat?”
Da Vinci’s expression mixed amusement and frustration, his posture almost like he was surrendering.
“No…” he murmured, “I’ve fallen in love with her.”
Botticelli almost choked on the apricot pit.
He coughed twice, wrapped the pit in his handkerchief, and jumped off his chair. “You—finally figured it out?!”
“How did this even happen? Was it a divine revelation? You actually got it?” Botticelli circled around Da Vinci like he was meeting a new person. “Are you sure it’s love? Or is it just that some new guy made you feel threatened?”
“It’s been a year,” Da Vinci said with a helpless, uncomfortable expression. “But I don’t know how to get closer to her.”
“Don’t you think you’re already close enough?” Botticelli countered. “I heard from Dechio that you’ve been living together, seeing each other every day, morning and night—are you trying to move into her bedroom?”
“Alessandro,” Da Vinci frowned, “if you’re just trying to mock me, then we can skip this and not waste each other's time.”
Botticelli sat back down, pausing for a long time before speaking again. “Are you asking me to teach you how to pursue her?”
“Mm,” Da Vinci admitted, showing an uncharacteristic patience. “I’m really not good at these things.”
“Why should I teach my rival?” Botticelli assessed Da Vinci's expression. “I like her too—though I don’t intend to take it any further, but I do like her.”
“Alessandro—”
“Looks like you’re really serious about this,” Botticelli muttered, stretching lazily. “First, you need to understand what she likes and needs.”
“If the girl likes sweet pears, and you keep giving her sour dates, you’re only pushing her further away.”
Da Vinci breathed a long sigh of relief, thinking to himself, Botticelli really understands these things, asking him was the right choice.
“Hedy likes... nature, right?” Da Vinci tried to answer the questions like a schoolboy, "Doing experiments, making potions, or helping those in need."
Botticelli rubbed his face, feeling like he was teaching a young man who had just fallen in love for the first time.
At this rate, Raphael might even be better at winning a girl’s heart than he was.
“And what else? Think a bit more?”
“She doesn’t like jewelry or drinking for fun.” Da Vinci sighed. “I had planned to bring her gifts along the way, but in the end, I only picked a bunch of daffodils.”
Botticelli chuckled and patted his shoulder, speaking slowly, “Hedy is a very unique woman.”
Smart, beautiful, but not yielding to any desires.
Even if you gave her a cartload of jewelry, she might not even raise an eyebrow.
“She’s strong,” Da Vinci smiled gently when he thought of her. “And so independent, as if she doesn’t need anyone.”
“The more a woman like that seems strong, the more fragile she might be,” Botticelli mused. “Maybe she needs rest too.”
“So... what should I do to help her more?” Da Vinci asked, a little uncertain.
“Not just that,” Botticelli shook his head. “She will only truly accept your help if she trusts you enough. Otherwise, everything is in vain.”
Da Vinci let out a long sigh and told Botticelli about the situation with Sarai.
"On my birthday, she even kissed my cheek first," Da Vinci said with frustration. "Now she’s coldly calling me ‘Mr. Da Vinci.’"
Botticelli looked at him with a complex expression. "Sounds like only you could manage that."
"I feel like she just wants to be friends with me now..." Da Vinci mumbled. "Maybe there’s no hope left."
"No, Leonardo," Botticelli said, his eyes lowering as if remembering something. "Don’t give up."
"At least you can still see her every day. At least she’s still by your side," he murmured. "Even if you haven’t seen her for just a few days, you rush to ride south through the night. If you were to completely lose her..."
He paused, looking at Da Vinci, his words carrying a weight of understanding. "You’d probably end up like me, living in invisible shackles. And those shackles are tied to the heart, where each beat of pain pulls at your entire body."
The person he had deeply loved had already passed away, but even now, he was almost accustomed to this feeling that shadowed him, following him wherever he went.
Yet, when he thought of Simonetta’s smile, he still felt a suffocating ache.
It was pain, yet a form of joy, the same as before.
"Leonardo," Botticelli said, his voice steady but intense. "You need to hold onto her."
He fixed his gaze on Da Vinci. "Love will bring pain, but that’s what makes it precious."
"I will," Da Vinci replied, a smile finally lifting his features. "There’s no one like her in this world."