CHAPTER 23 #4
Should she reveal all her secrets to him?
Before falling in love, the decision had been easy to make.
But once you fall in love with someone, there’s this uncontrollable desire to share everything about yourself with them, as if you wanted to carve each other’s souls into one another.
Hedy took a sip of wine and let out a long sigh.
Though Leonardo himself was an extraordinary figure in this era, if he were to learn that she was an unusual being from five hundred years in the future, he might not believe it at all. He might think that she was just frightened by the idea of marriage.
Drowsiness began to creep over her, and she decided to lie down for a moment’s rest. Before she knew it, she had drifted into a deep sleep.
"My lady," Dechio knocked on the door, entering with a document in hand. "Mr. Machiavelli wishes to ask you—"
She froze, instinctively calling out, "My lady?!"
In the bedroom, there was only the wedding dress laid on the bed.
The person who had been sitting there just half an hour ago was nowhere to be found.
On the eve of her wedding, their lord had simply vanished.
General Da Vinci, along with his men, had searched the entire city of Genoa but could find no trace of her.
—This was no runaway bride.
When Hedy awoke again, she could only feel herself sitting in a bumpy, stifling, and cramped space.
She barely managed to open her eyes, but her vision was blurry.
…What had happened?
Had she been… kidnapped?
Meanwhile, at the Palazzo Pitti in Florence...
"Mr. Borgia, I don’t think there’s any need to repeat this," Lorenzo set his wine glass down, his tone cold. "The old grievances between the Roman Church and Naples, along with their interference in Genoa’s ecclesiastical matters, we will not offer any support."
"Is that so?" Caesar raised a faint smile.
Compared to their meeting two years ago, his appearance had become even more youthful. The childlike air was slowly fading, and his once-thin frame was now growing tall and slender.
"Such a pity..." he said slowly. "I suppose I’ll just have to ask her myself."
"What are you talking about?" Lorenzo furrowed his brows. "You’re going to Genoa? Crossing the entire island to negotiate?"
"No, she’s already on her way back to the Roman Church," the young man leaned slightly forward, looking directly into his eyes, his smile tinged with mockery. "Perhaps the younger generation knows better how to handle things, Mr. Medici."
——
Hedy sat by the bed, feeling the constant bumps and jolts.
She was now at sea, and it was clear she was being taken south.
The first thing she did was not to cry out for help, weep, or panic.
Instead, she began to think about who the traitor might be.
The person who had managed to break through several layers of defenses and slipped sleeping pills into her drink was certainly no ordinary individual.
Moreover, her guards were not careless enough to let a stranger waltz in and poison her.
The bottle of wine was one she had brought from Milan, and not only was it something she had personally made, but it was rarely touched by anyone during the journey to Genoa.
Even if there had been something in the wine, the fact that she was swiftly taken from the castle to the outer harbor and sent away meant there had to be someone coordinating things behind the scenes.
—Who could this person be?
She could barely smell any fresh air, as there were no portholes here, and the air was thick with the stench of decaying wood.
Above her, she could hear the sounds of animals rustling, and there was a faint, pungent odor lingering.
—She was packed into a cargo ship, sent away under the cover of a load of goods.
Leonardo was probably frantic by now.
Hedy sighed and tapped her forehead with her fingers.
She needed to think through these issues clearly.
Could it be Dechio?
Dechio had once been her personal maid and now worked as her secretary, so she knew everything about her.
But it wasn’t her. Hedy straightened up slightly and let out a slow breath.
If Dechio were a traitor, she would have acted long ago, not let things drag on this far.
And she wouldn’t have used such a risky method—there were a thousand ways that girl could have struck while being so close to her.
—Machiavelli? Michelangelo? Or those mercenaries?
The answer was not clear.
Hedy was deeply worried about the safety of Genoa, concerned for all her friends.
More terrifying than the war that could break out at any moment was the enemy lurking among her friends.
This journey had been fairly smooth sailing, despite the inevitable bumps and rough seas along the way.
Though she was a bit seasick, she was doing relatively well.
The people who had kidnapped her were all unfamiliar faces, and the language they spoke was jumbled and hard to understand.
They refused to make any contact with her, handing over food and drink through a small opening in the door, as if feeding livestock.
...It reminded her of the days she had been confined in the Doge’s Palace, only the treatment here was far worse.
Hedy waited silently for many days, acting submissive and numb.
She knew that this was the only way to lower their guard.
Ships always needed to dock for supplies, and she had to use that opportunity to figure out a way to send a message.
Around the sixteenth day, the ship finally docked near the port.
The chaotic sounds of people coming and going, along with the noise of goods being unloaded, blended together like a crowd dispersing outside an opera house.
She waited for this chance. Before the food delivery man arrived, she collapsed on the floor, pretending to have an attack and holding her breath.
The man clearly noticed something was wrong, knocking on the door and shouting something in a foreign language.
She remained in a state of unconsciousness, giving no response.
The sailor suddenly grew anxious, calling loudly and rushing off, seemingly to fetch someone to come and help her.
The heavy iron chains were fumbled open, and the old lock made a screeching noise as it was unlocked.
A few older women lifted her onto the deck and called for a doctor to come and examine her.
Sharp-smelling smelling salts were held to her nose, and she coughed slightly before weakly opening her eyes, looking pale and frail.
This was a strange harbor, and it seemed to be near Pisa.
A maid came over to help her sit up, and someone tried to bring her a bowl of hot soup to drink.
In the distance, a small boy was swiftly running errands for the adults, occasionally glancing in her direction.
After a short while, a customs officer arrived to inspect the documents, and many people rushed towards the port.
The maids in charge of caring for her busied themselves with towels, fetching water, and searching for any other medicines she might need.
The little boy quietly approached, speaking in the Tuscan Italian dialect: "Are you about to die?"
It was indeed a good question.
Hedy watched the cautious guards in the distance, maintaining her sickly appearance, and quietly asked, "Where is this ship going?"
"I don't know. I heard it's going toward Rome," the boy observed her expression, adding, "They said you should get some sun."
"Indeed." Hedy sighed softly, then slowly said, "Are you one of the crew on this ship?"
"Yes and no. Everyone here knows me well— but my family lives on the shore." The boy smiled, "My father always sells fish and oysters to them. We're all old friends."
It seemed he was helping with unloading the cargo.
Hedy tilted her head slightly, observing the gazes of others, and with one hand, she removed her rings and bracelets.
"Child... what's your name?"
The boy paused for a moment, his expression turning awkward, and his voice became much softer.
"...They all call me Sodomy."
Sodomy? What kind of name was that? (Sodomy, in English, refers to sexual acts between men.)
"No, that is certainly not your name," Hedy fixed her gaze on his eyes and held the jewelry with gemstones tightly in her palm. "Child, what is your name?"
The boy appeared somewhat confused but finally answered softly, "Bazzi, ma'am. My name is Bazzi."
"Bazzi, hold my hand, give me some strength, will you?" she said, her voice softening.
Her Mediterranean-style long sleeves concealed her hand movements, and no one dared to interfere with her possessions.
—Clearly, the kidnappers had warned the ship’s owners. No one dared to let her escape or die from illness.
The boy hesitated but eventually took her hand, realizing what she was offering him.
"Bazzi, good boy. I need to ask you to do something." She could only take this risk; if she failed, she might face even harsher treatment later.
If she tried to escape with only her own strength, the burly guards would likely drag her back.
And if she cried out for help, the customs officers at the port might not even know the lord of Genoa and might think she was just a madwoman locked up.
The more she struggled, the more easily she would be bound, losing the last bit of her freedom.
The boy seemed unaccustomed to being treated with such respect and importance. He listened to her instructions, nervously nodding.
"Please..." She let her hand fall, looking like a pitiable, sick woman. "Make sure you give this silver ring to him."
"...You look a lot like my mother," the boy muttered. "I hope you recover soon."
"Sodomy! Sodomy! Why are you still hanging around here?" A maid, carrying a water bucket, noticed the old fisherman’s son lingering nearby and rudely yanked him away. "Don't talk to her! Understand?"
The boy meekly nodded and quickly ran off.
Hedy watched as he ran back to the shore, and the maid helped her sit up.
"Sorry for taking so long to come back and take care of you," the maid said, nodding towards the guard, who then went off to the side to drink and rest. "We couldn't find any medicine for seasickness... I'm really sorry."