Chapter Eighteen
“I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan;
very pleasant hast thou been unto me; wonderful was
thy love to me, passing the love of women.”
It was early in the morning. Father and son sat at the kitchen table drinking black coffee before Yiftach left for the office. It was a daily custom, so trite and so perfect.
“You came in late last night. We didn’t have a chance to talk. How did the defense’s case presentation start off?” Max asked.
“Pretty well, I think. You know that that’s the part I like the most.”
“The cross-questioning?”
“Yes… that’s where the action is! Heart called Napoleon and Josephine as his witnesses.”
“I know, it’s all over the news. The general consensus is that you won that battle.”
“I think so too but, with Heart, you can’t be complacent.
You know, Dad,” Yiftach changed the course of the conversation sharply, “about Melody… I don’t think it’s possible.
” Yiftach expected his father to voice his opinion, but Max only looked at his son intently above the steam rising from his hot cup of coffee, mindful to remain silent.
“It’s not that I don’t like her,” Yiftach continued, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, and I feel very good when I’m with her, but I don’t think our relationship can continue. ”
“And why is that?”
“Because I don’t know if I can allow it to go on in its present form.
” Max continued looking closely at his son, and Yiftach went on to explain.
“Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, Dad. Just look at under what circumstances we met.
.. I’m her boss and also a civil worker and I’m not even sure that our relationship is allowed.
We have to keep it secret and it’s ruining the experience.
Realistically, neither one of us is thinking of leaving our jobs soon, so I can’t see any real solution to this complicated problem.
.” He looked at his father and felt that the latter didn’t seem convinced.
“Between us, Dad, what is a romantic relationship worth if it is has to be kept under wraps?” Max remained silent and Yiftach went on.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought. If I had met Melody under different circumstances, like in a pub for instance, and she wasn’t my subordinate at work, especially in the civil service, it could have been totally different.
But things being as they are—when neither of us is planning to leave the office in the foreseeable future—what other option do we have? ”
Yiftach waited for his father to say something, anything, in response to the thoughts that he had just shared with him.
Max remained silent a short while longer, then said: “That’s pure nonsense.
To my sensitive ears, it just sounds like you’re looking for excuses,” he determined, “you’re trying to convince yourself that that’s the situation, and you’re using me as a sounding board. ”
“No, Dad, not so, I’m just trying to put some order into this mess.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to? A stranger?
An idiot? I know exactly how and what my son is feeling!
You are stuck so deep in your own loneliness and you’re so frightened of what might happen if, God forbid, a woman comes along and pulls you out of this pathetic place you’re in, unable to leave your memories of Nicole behind you. ”
“There are many things you can say about me, but not that I’m afraid.”
“You aren’t even able to admit it to yourself!
” the old man’s face showed disappointment.
“You know, when your mother died, I too built a wall of excuses around me. For years I kept telling myself all kinds of stories, and do you know where that led me? Look at me—I’m old.
I’m tired. I’m alone. If only I could go back in time, I would change so many things.
But, unfortunately, I can’t so… what I can do is to make sure that my son doesn’t repeat my mistakes—yessir, I can certainly do that! ”
“Dad, c’mon, what terrible mistakes did you make?”
“It was wrong for me not to try and find a new partner, in that I blamed myself for your mother’s death after Amitai was killed, in that I lived my life as I did, with constant suffering from the never-ending thoughts about what might have been had they not died.
And do you know what the root of this mistake was?
I am absolutely sure that your mother would have wanted me to find another companion.
She would have wanted me to be happy. You know why?
Because she loved me!” Yiftach remained silent.
“Do you really think that Nicole deserves your sentencing yourself to loneliness and despair? Do you think she deserves all this suffering that you’re wrapped in all the time?
If that’s what you think, then I have failed, because I didn’t give you the tools to help you cope with such situations when I raised you. ”
“Dad, stop, you didn’t fail in anything.”
“I’m not sure about that. If I can see in you a behavioral pattern similar to my own, then I’ve failed—big time.
And besides, sometimes I think that you’re hesitant about Melody only because romantic ties with her now will conflict with the agenda of this trial that you’re conducting against Love.
” Yiftach stood up and kissed Max on the forehead.
Max relaxed his muscles and tried to calm down.
“Please call the next witness for the defense,” Judge Golan instructed as a matter of course.
A man in his sixties took his place behind the witness stand. He was bald-headed with pale skin and a long, thick, white beard. He had wise and serious eyes.
“Hello, sir, why do you appear so hesitant?” Heart asked him.
“I thank you. Yes, there are many who believe that I am among the greatest of the Renaissance artists.”
Heart seemed confused and, for a moment, he feared that this clumsy witness would fall off the platform to the floor. “Be careful! You’re leaning like the tower of Pisa!” he implored him.
“May I correct you,” the witness said as he regained his balance, “I am not from Pisa, I am from Florence.”
Heart frowned with concern. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to bring him all the way here…’ he mumbled to himself, ‘especially since I did have other options.’
“Absolutely!” the witness replied enthusiastically, “I will gladly answer any question related to my magnificent work—‘The Last Supper.’”
The audience began whispering with excitement upon hearing these words. Now they knew who the peculiar and mysterious stranger was.
“What is your name please?” Heart asked.
“Leonardo.”
“Your family name is da Vinci, yes?”
“Sort of. I never did have a surname, so I was referred to as ‘Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci’ meaning ‘son of Piero from Vinci’—the Tuscan village in which I was born. But ‘da Vinci’ is what everyone calls me, you can call me that too, that’s fine.”
“Okay. And your line of work… you are a painter, correct?”
“Sort of.”
“Again ‘sort of?’”
“I am a scientist, a mathematician, an engineer, an inventor, an anatomist, a sculptor, an architect and, yes, absolutely, also a painter.”
“Good. Now, with your permission, let’s get to the point without going in circles. Tell me please, wise man from Vinci—have you ever loved a woman in your life?”
“Not really…” Leonardo replied, and many eyebrows were lifted in the audience. Could Heart have possibly fallen into a trap? Could it be that he called a witness—to testify how glorious love is—who never experienced love himself? Impossible.
Heart granted half a smile, giving him a sly look. “A universal genius such as yourself, could you please explain to us—what is life without love? And, in general, from your experience, in your opinion, what would a world without love be like?”
It now became clear where Heart was leading to with such self-assurance.
Leonardo da Vinci had won a unique place in the chronicles of mankind as a man well-versed in most of the fields of science.
In other words, what he might say now would carry tremendous weight with the judges.
Yiftach pursed his lips and thought intently about his line of questioning.
“Let me say this,” the wise man from Vinci stated, “love is that feeling which gives meaning to life, a feeling without which life is meaningless.”
Heart was overjoyed. “And now I put the question to you, Your Honors,” he looked directly at the panel of judges, “do we want a life that is void of love? Thank you, Leonardo da Vinci, I have no further questions. Your witness, young lad,” he addressed Yiftach in a mocking, triumphant voice.
Yiftach approached the bearded man. “I am confused,” he said.
“To the best of my understanding, you were called here as a key witness—whose testimony can carry decisive weight—in order to describe to us how the life of a man who never loved another being looks like.” Heart nodded with satisfaction.
“You explained to us,” Yiftach continued, “and correct me if I’m wrong, that a life without love is a meaningless life.
” Yiftach scratched his head. “That’s strange…
because there is no one here that believes that your life—Leonardo da Vinci—was a meaningless life.
Moreover, you were asked to describe the life of a man who never loved a woman, yet you described it from the perspective of a man who did love someone else at some time and, therefore, you are unable to tell us how life without love might be.
This brings me to conclude that the statement that you never loved another person is, at the very least, not precise. ”
“Haa... are you trying to tell us that the incomparable Leonardo da Vinci is not telling the truth?” Heart asked derisively.
“No, that is certainly out of the question,” Yiftach admitted, then went on.
“When my colleague Heart questioned the witness standing behind the stand, he asked him if he had ever loved a woman—and the witness answered in the negative. However, he did not ask the witness if he had ever loved a man, is that not so?” Yiftach looked at da Vinci.
The artist shrugged his shoulders, as one for whom nothing is more important than the truth. “Yes, that is correct,” he answered.
“In that case, Sir, with whom were you in love, if I may ask?”
“With Gian Giacomo Caprotti, my assistant. I even documented our love in several of my works.”
“In other words, if we seek to hear testimony regarding a life void of love from a man who never knew what love is—then you aren’t exactly the right person for that, are you?”
“You are perfectly correct, young man,” Leonardo replied.
Now it was Yiftach’s turn to give Heart a mocking and triumphant look.