CHAPTER 16 #4
That explained a lot—his unsteady steps while climbing the mountains, the weight and sharp edges of the stones, which could easily leave cuts and bruises.
"Once we get to the palace, change into clean clothes and apply some medicine before you go," Hedy said. She didn’t want to stop him, but simply explained, "Consider it a reward for chatting with me."
"By the way," she paused as they reached the gate to the courtyard, "what's your name?"
"Michelangelo," the boy repeated, "Michelangelo Buonarroti."
The noblewoman with the blue eyes froze for a moment, then burst out laughing, covering her face.
She couldn’t believe it—just taking a walk and she managed to pick up one of the Renaissance Three by chance.
The boy, seeing her suddenly laughing, assumed there was something on his face. He quickly wiped it off, embarrassed. "Please don’t make fun of me."
"No, it’s your name," Hedy said, smiling.
"It sounds lovely, and it reminds me of an old friend.
" She cleared her throat and signaled to a servant who was coming to greet her, asking them to help carry the items so the boy could rest for a moment.
"There’s a bathroom here. After you wash up, you can treat your wounds. "
She had to get used to this—after all, it was possible that every person she casually asked for their name on the street could be someone famous in art history or European history.
Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, along with various politicians and bishops—these people were practically all crowded together in Italy...
"By the way," she suddenly remembered something, looking back at him. "Botticelli and Leonardo are both in need of a reliable apprentice. I’m sure their old friend Domenico won’t mind you studying with them."
The boy’s face lit up with a mix of excitement and nervousness, as he tried to hold back his questions.
He took a few steps with the servant, then couldn’t help but glance back at her. "Really—Botticelli has returned from the Sistine Chapel?"
"He returned a long time ago," Hedy replied with a smile. "He’s just been holed up in his studio painting."
Laughing, she added, "Given that they both handed me a little boy, it’s only fair I return the favor with a little apprentice."
Back in her past life, when Hedy visited art galleries and museums, she never really paid attention to the dates or years of the paintings.
She never imagined that Raphael and Michelangelo would be so... so young.
Raphael, with his head tilted as he bit into an apple, was so cute that it made you want to hug him and ruffle his hair. Michelangelo, at around eleven or twelve years old, had a stubborn and proud demeanor, but there was still the bright, clear energy of youth about him.
— Completely different from the wrinkled old men depicted in museum guides.
Hedy gestured for the servant to lead her to the backyard, intending to have a proper conversation with those two old friends while the boy took his bath.
As they passed through the courtyard, the servant couldn’t help but ask, “Lady, the boy who came with you earlier—was that young Buonarroti?”
Hedy wasn’t entirely sure if the surname was correct, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, why?”
“The poor kid…” the servant mumbled, unable to resist saying, “You’d better keep your distance, or he might pass his bad luck on to you.”
“What?” Hedy had a vague feeling that she had missed something. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing really. Actually, Buonarroti—well, you can tell by the name, he comes from a good family.”
His father was the highest administrative official of Caprese and Chiusi, but his mother passed away from illness a few years ago.
The boy had a great interest and talent for painting and sculpture, but his luck was terribly bad.
“Specifically,” the servant waved his fingers, “Out of the ten commissions he took, seven of them probably ended in failure.”
If it was sculpture, maybe they’d have finally hauled the stone down from the mountain, only for the client to suddenly change their mind and refuse it.
If it was a painting, they might have been almost finished with the final touches, only for the noble who ordered it to suddenly die of illness, or a wealthy merchant to mysteriously vanish.
Hedy listened to the servant’s lengthy recounting, utterly surprised, as though he were speaking nonsense.
Could it really be that bad?
"Most unbelievable of all," the servant clapped his hands, "was when there were three separate orders for bronze statues and sculptures in the workshop, all arranged by him.
Then, they all fell through. Either the work was half-done and then rejected, or the orders were just canceled without explanation. "
This—this was the complete opposite of Leonardo!
Over the years, Hedy had watched as the demand for commissions from Leonardo grew increasingly, to the point where, if they had a ticketing system, people would probably still be waiting for their turn when they turned eighty.
He spent his time leisurely researching bicycles and mechanical wings, and recently, he had been more focused on refining his mildew-fighting solution, hardly giving any thought to his art.
She heard that some young women waited so long for their portraits that they fainted from exhaustion, insisting that the great master finish their paintings before they could get married.
In contrast… Michelangelo, who had been stood up so many times, seemed to be the complete opposite extreme.
No wonder he cried while eating.
After all the hard work of determining the size and style of a sculpture, carrying stone down the mountain with a group, enduring repeated injuries every day, and still being stood up…
Hedy rubbed her brow, feeling a pang of sympathy for the boy.
With his background, he could have lived the easy life of a pampered nobleman.
To sacrifice so much for art—this was truly a passion that came from the heart.
Botticelli was still busy in his studio, but Leonardo, upon hearing that Hedy had returned, hurriedly came down from the upstairs.
“Hedy—” he called out, signaling for her to stop and wait for him.
The servant discreetly withdrew, giving them enough space to converse privately.
“Today, there are guests from the south at the Doge’s Palace,” Leonardo glanced around, apparently checking for eavesdroppers. “It seems someone is looking for you.”
“Looking for me?” She paused, surprised. “What’s going on?”
“They’re from Rome, dressed very elegantly,” Leonardo explained. “I was reporting to the lord on my research, and overheard a little.”
“Blue eyes, black hair, a woman in her twenties,” he lowered his voice. “Someone is looking for you.”
Hedy furrowed her brows, feeling a sense of unease.
When she had first come to the Medici Palace, she had indeed fabricated such a story.
At the time, she was just a foreigner without any status or confidence, stumbling over her Italian.
Her identity as someone fleeing from the Roman Papacy had been a last-minute fabrication, but it had fit well with the Medici family’s position at the time.
But since the appearance of the ruby ring, it seemed that she, Lorenzo, and Leonardo had all come to understand her extraordinary background.
An alchemist would hardly possess such an obviously aristocratic possession.
—Not to mention the thirty-plus facets of the diamond, which was technology that didn’t exist in this era.
The matter of the ring had occupied her thoughts for quite some time.
She could understand why Lorenzo had yet to return it to her. After all, he was still pretending to believe her lie, and everything had been peaceful for the past four or five years.
If her true identity were exposed, it would lead to an awkward and troublesome situation.
Over the years, Hedy had been steadily aligning her interests with those of the Medici family, deepening her connections so that various industries and public affairs intertwined like the roots of a gnarled tree.
As a result, her protection under the Medici name had become more secure, and she could safely conduct business in Milan as well.
But in reality, she was from Florida, USA, five hundred years in the future, with no connection to the Roman Papacy. She hadn’t even set foot on Roman soil in this life and didn’t know anyone from there.
— So who could be looking for her?
“What did the lord say?”
“He’s cautious,” Leonardo said, noticing she was still puzzled, his expression betraying some concern. “He mentioned a relative was here before, but two years ago, they went to Milan, and now their whereabouts are unknown.”
Fortunately, due to the lack of communication and transportation, the Romans couldn’t detect the half-truths in these statements, and they didn’t linger long before leaving.
Hedy’s heart skipped a beat as she realized these people had come specifically because of her.
“What could they want from me…” she murmured. “Could it be about penicillin?”
“The lord asked me to pass on a message,” Leonardo frowned. “He said you should avoid going out for a while. Those people might come back looking for you.”
“Did you notice what they were wearing? Were they people from the pope’s circle?”
Hedy’s first instinct was that it had something to do with politics.
Two or three years ago, Leonardo had accompanied the lord on a campaign to the southeast, capturing several cities and opening up the ports of Florence on both the east and west sides.
That war had significantly weakened the Roman Papacy, and it was entirely possible that they still held a grudge.
If they erased her existence, it would be like removing the strategist and right-hand person, causing a series of ripple effects.
Hedy took a deep breath, feeling a deep sense of unease.
"I understand." She thought for a moment and added, "I’ll wear a hat when I go out from now on, and be extra careful."
"They were dressed like servants, and their accents didn’t sound like they were from Rome.
I remember some of the patterns on their clothes, but I can’t recall which family they belong to," Leonardo said as he led her to the easel.
He grabbed a piece of charcoal and quickly sketched the emblem from memory.
It was a coat of arms with eight grass leaves surrounding four corners, and in the center was a bull with a curled tail.
Hedy stared at the sketch in shock, her face going pale.
"Do you recognize it?" He noticed her color drained instantly and instinctively reassured her, "Don’t be afraid, Hedy. We’re all here to protect you."
"Even if they try to cause trouble in Florence, I can take you to Milan, or to Venice," Leonardo said, sitting closer, his hand instinctively grasping hers.
Hedy remained silent for a long time.
She recognized the emblem—
It belonged to the infamous Borgia family from Spain.
Incest, poisoning, simony, assassination...
Two popes would be born from this family, and they would go on to disrupt the once orderly Europe, creating countless enemies over a hundred years.
If she remembered correctly, the current ruler was Alexander VI, a man in his fifties who had killed at the age of twelve.
—Countless rumors and legends surrounded them, but how could any of this involve her?