A Bolt from the Blue

20

Tito glanced side to side, as if to reassure himself no one was listening. Lowering his voice further, he went on in an urgent tone. “I told you that my uncle was a soldier. I have learned much from him, and I fear this subterfuge will be found out. And if it is not, I am certain that the duke will not release the Master back to us, no matter that he thinks an army waits outside his walls.”

“That may be,” I agreed, “but if that happens, Il Moro’s true army will eventually arrive to take our place.”

Tito shook his head. “But don’t you see? For all that the castle appears in disrepair, it has withstood many attacks before. They have a fine well and stores enough to last a long siege. Do you truly think Il Moro will want to spend weeks-or even months-waging war simply to rescue the Master and your father?”

“But the flying machine-”

“-is of no import,” he exclaimed, cutting my argument short. “You and I could build another for Il Moro, and surely this thought will occur to the duke, as well. He will know that Leonardo’s sketches with all his notes are still in his workshop, and he will know that we have worked upon the design long enough to have a fair understanding of its principles. Your father and the Master, and anyone else”-he paused to give me a significant look, and I knew that he meant by that last the Duchess Marianna-“they are dispensable. All that matters is the notes. We must act now or live with the consequences.”

My stomach twisted into a hard fist of stone as I reluctantly considered the truth of Tito’s words. No matter how brilliant an artist and inventor Leonardo was, he was no military general. . nor had he ever been a soldier.

Moreover, I knew that Il Moro’s affection for his master engineer was limited to his current usefulness. Doubtless many other artists and inventors were waiting for the opportunity for such a patron as he. Ludovico would go to war if it served his cunning purposes, and not out of loyalty or sentimentality.

I glanced at Rebecca to gauge her opinion on the matter. Her broad face was drawn in serious lines as she nodded.

“I fear Tito is right,” she replied, no trace of banter in her tone. “That duke, he won’t willingly free your father. And with Signor Leonardo, he’s got another hostage to barter back to Il Moro. But I have an idea how to smuggle your father from the castle, if we can but gain entry.”

In a basket of laundry, perhaps?

The question rose unbidden to my lips, but I bit it back. The Master must have been certain of the washerwoman’s loyalty, for he had allowed her to accompany us this far. And should the Duke of Pontalba learn that the man he thought was Leonardo the Florentine was instead Angelo the cabinetmaker, my father might never have the chance to put into effect his own plan of escape.

Taking a deep breath, I returned Rebecca’s nod with one of my own. “Very well, I agree that we must do something. So what is our plan?”

Rebecca’s broad face split into a wide grin. “Why, same as last time. We do some laundry.”

A short time later, I was once again wearing my simple apprentice’s tunic and seated beside Rebecca as she drove her cart toward the castle’s gate. We’d told Lorenzo and Giovanni, the only ones of the apprentices who noticed us hitching up the cart, that we were acting under Davide’s orders; thus, we had avoided any questions from the pair. For her part, Novella had agreed to distract Davide with claims of a twisted ankle long enough for us to be beyond call before he noticed our defection.

Unfortunately for our plan, the senior apprentice was not easily misled from his duty. Barely were we halfway across the cleared field when Tito grasped my arm and softly said, “Look, Davide has come after us.”

I turned in my seat to see that the senior apprentice-dressed in helmet and breastplate, and mounted upon one of our makeshift war steeds-was indeed galloping in our direction. Wheeling most dramatically around us, he halted in our path and drew a flashing sword, so that Rebecca was forced to pull up her mare or run over him.

“What are you doing?” he asked in an outraged undertone as he pointed the weapon at us. “The Master gave strict orders that no one was supposed to approach the castle. Quickly, turn your cart around.”

“We cannot do that,” I softly countered. “My father’s life is in danger, and the Master’s plan is flawed. We must attempt to rescue him in another fashion, lest they both remain Pontalba’s prisoners.”

Davide’s lips folded into stubborn lines, and his sword remained unyielding. “The Master gave us orders, and we must follow them.”

Helpless, I exchanged glances with Rebecca. She gave me a small nod; then, her expression kindly, she addressed the youth.

“You did your duty fi ne. What’s more important, you gave the soldiers on the parapets a good show,” she told him. “Now, make us a bow so they can see all is well, and then you must let us pass.”

“I cannot do that. The Master trusted me with this duty, and I will not let him down,” Davide protested, though I saw an uncertain wobble to his sword. “Please, turn back.”

“We won’t turn back,” Rebecca countered, her expression growing stern. “And the soldiers are going to get suspicious if we keep sitting here showing our gums to the breeze. Don’t worry; I’ll tell Signor Leonardo that you did your duty. And these boys”-she indicated Tito and me-“will take the punishment he deals them.”

The sword wobbled a moment longer. Finally, with a great sigh and look of consternation, he sheathed his weapon and made us an exaggerated bow from his saddle.

“Very well, you may pass, but only because I cannot stop you short of using a blade,” he retorted in a tone of disgust.

Shooting Tito and me a baleful glance, he added, “No matter what other punishment the Master deals out, know that you two draftsmen will have no other task for the next year but to boil the gesso every day to atone for your insubordination.”

I gave Davide an apologetic look but made no reply. While boiling animal skins to make the gluelike substance needed for coating blank panels was a foul job, I would have taken on a litany of far more disgusting tasks if it meant saving my father’s life. I saw a flicker of understanding in Davide’s eyes, however, and knew that in his heart he did not fault us for what we did. With a final salute, he put a heel to his steed’s flank and trotted back toward the forest.

“Well, that’s done,” Rebecca said with a sigh of her own as she whipped up the mare again. “Now, let’s see how we fare with the soldiers at the gate.”

We continued at a moderate pace toward the castle. The morning sun was warm upon our backs, and yet the sight of the brooding fortress was enough to make me wrap my father’s cloak about me more tightly. The washerwoman’s expression was neutral, but as close as we sat I could feel the tension in her beefy arms and knew she must be as nervous as I at what was to come. As for Tito. .

I spared a glance behind me. Though he, too, kept a neutral countenance to his pockmarked face, his dark eyes burned with eagerness. Abruptly, I wondered if his insistence in launching this rescue mission came less from concern over my father and the Master and more from a feeling of high adventure. For surely in every young man lurked a secret dream of facing down an army single-handedly while defeating a cruel duke and rescuing a duchess.

I had no time to reflect further on this, however, for we had reached the portcullis. One of the guards, stave in hand, peered through the wood and iron grille at us. Recognizing Rebecca, he barked, “You, washerwoman, what is your business?”

“Foolish man, you know my business.”

Grinning broadly, she tossed the reins to me and hopped from the cart. “I’ve come to finish the laundry,” she declared as she approached the gate. “My boys and me, we worked all day the last time we was here, but there was more laundry than we could do in a day. I promised the kitchen master I’d return today to finish the job.”

The guard’s frown deepened. “No one’s allowed in or out, not without the captain’s approval. Can’t you see that Pontalba is under siege by Milan?”

“Under siege?”

Gasping, she clutched at her large bosom and whirled about with great drama to survey the clearing. Then, with a chuckle, she turned back to the guard.

“Pah, do you mean those poor excuses for soldiers that I saw lurking about in the forest? They did not look like men ready to fight.”

A second guard had joined the first and was listening with some interest to Rebecca’s report. He shoved a sharp elbow into his fellow soldier’s ribs and grinned while Rebecca preened and smirked, swaying her broad skirts in a seductive manner.

“Pah, I think they’re less than men, if you know what I mean. The ones I saw were too busy with dice or drink to notice a comely woman come across their path, let alone summon the energy to fight. Why, I was almost here to your gate before they noticed that I had passed by.”

The first guard was grinning, as well, and he exchanged glances with his fellow. “Why don’t we let the washerwoman in, and she can tell us about everything she saw in the forest.”

“I’ll tell you that gladly, and more,” she replied with a bawdy wink, “but you must let my boys gather the laundry while we talk. A lady has to earn a few soldi, you know.”

The guards stepped away from the gate to discuss the matter, surely a favorable sign. I pretended disinterest in the entire process, though my heart pounded so wildly that I was certain it must be noticeable even through the tightly laced corset I wore beneath my tunic. After an interminable few moments, they came to a decision.

“You can come in,” the fi rst guard declared, “but you cannot stay long. Let your boys gather the laundry, and you’re off. There’s a stream not far from the castle where you can do your washing, if you have no fear of Milan’s soldiers.”

“Pah, I know how to handle soldiers,” she said with another broad wink for the pair before she climbed back into the wagon again. The rumble and squeak of chains followed as the gate rolled up once more to let us inside the castle walls.

We rolled to a stop just inside the gate, and the second guard took hold of the horse’s bridle. Rebecca climbed down once more, while Tito scrambled into her seat and took up the reins. Her bawdy grin dropped for an instant, and I was alarmed to see the look of exhausted pain in her face. In the next moment, however, the grin was back as she made mock shooing motions at us.

“Off with you, boys, and be quick. Gather the laundry and put it in the baskets, and come back here. I’ll be waiting with these fine gentlemen,” she declared, giving us a significant look as she hooked an arm through each of the soldiers’ elbows.

Tito nodded and lightly whipped up the mare.

“Can you believe our good fortune?” I murmured to him as we headed toward the kitchens. “We can hide my father and the duchess inside the baskets and smuggle them out that way. The guards will not question us or look inside, for they gave us leave to bring laundry back through the gates again.”

“Or perhaps it is another trick.” He slanted me an unreadable look and added, “You should beware, Dino, lest you be too readily fooled. The world is far more complicated than you might think.”

Stung a bit by his dismissal of my enthusiasm, I made no reply as he pulled the cart to a halt alongside the kitchens. A few of the kitchen boys were milling about, but they spared us no more than a glance. I wondered if the rest of the castle realized that they were supposedly on the brink of siege. Surely everyone should be making preparations for a possible attack, I thought in some confusion.

I wondered, as well, what had happened to Leonardo’s grand chariot. We had passed by the main doors leading to the great hall, and I’d not seen it there. It was far too unwieldy to store away in the stables along with the other carts and wagons.

I frowned as the most likely possibility came to me. Doubtless the Duke of Pontalba had seen the glorious invention and, as he had with the flying machine, decided to claim it for his own. Perhaps it sat in one of the inner courtyards awaiting Nicodemo’s dubious pleasure.

Tito, meanwhile, was digging into the baskets. I had assumed them to be empty, but to my surprise he plucked a pair of familiar tunics from one.

“See, Rebecca saved these from last time we were here,” Tito said as he tossed one to me and swiftly donned the other. “Now we may wander about in disguise.”

I pulled my borrowed tunic over my own garb, sniffing at it in satisfaction. This one had been freshly laundered by the capable washerwoman, unlike the previous soiled garment I’d worn. Tying my belt over it, I gave Tito a nod.

“I shall go in search of my father. They must have him on the roof working on the flying machine, so that is where I shall begin my search. You go to the dungeons and look for the duchess. Perhaps that is where the duke has moved her.”

“I shall look,” he agreed, “but if I find her, how will I free her? I doubt that the guard will give me a key.”

“Ah, but I shall.”

I shot him a lofty look as I reached into my pouch. With a flourish, I plucked forth one of the heavy pieces of curved wire that I’d borrowed from Leonardo’s forge before our expedition had set out.

“I’ve seen the Master open locks with such a wire before,” I explained as he gave me a puzzled stare. “You simply fit it into the lock as you would a key, and twist it about until the lock yields. It did not appear to require much talent.”

“I think I would do better to leap upon a guard from behind and steal his key, instead,” the youth replied in a doubtful voice, though he dutifully tucked the wire into his own pouch. “We’d best hurry. And be sure you find a bit of laundry that we can use to cover the tops of the baskets.”

We quickly parted, Tito toward the kitchens and I retracing my earlier steps toward the great hall. Slipping inside past the broad doors, I saw to my surprise-though perhaps I should have expected such a scene-that the great hall was again filled with men. Some soldiers, others minor nobles, all appeared in the midst of a minor uproar. Nicodemo lo Bianco, the Duke of Pontalba himself, presided over the chaos in his tall, carved chair.

This day, he was dressed in a long black tunic, over which was belted an ankle-length coat of gold and white brocade, heavily edged in black fur. A broad, puffed black velvet hat with a rolled brim of gold silk perched atop his balding head, adding further shadows to his craggy face. Rather than soften his features, the fineness of his garb emphasized the cruel slash of his lips and sagging flesh beneath his eyes and chin.

Or perhaps it was simply the contrast that made him appear far more repulsive than he was. For, standing before Nicodemo was the man whom many claimed to be the most handsome in the entire court of Milan. Breastplate gleaming and flamboyant plumed helmet tucked beneath his arm, Leonardo was in the midst of making his case.

Moving from the duke’s line of sight, I ducked into one of the alcoves. Here, I could see but not be seen for the shadows, or so I prayed. The Master was speaking, his tone measured; still, I could make out but a few words, for the duke’s men were muttering among themselves, seeming unconvinced by the speech they were hearing.

Abruptly, Nicodemo raised his hand.

“Enough,” he called, his harsh voice ringing through the hall. As silence fell, he addressed the Master.

“I have listened to your accusations, Captain. They are couched in flowery words in an attempt to deceive me into thinking you approach as an ally and not an enemy. But they are accusations, nonetheless.”

He stood and thrust a beefy finger in Leonardo’s direction. “You think yourself clever, but I am not Ludovico’s fool! You have come to me with this false charge simply to pretend cause to violate our treaty.” Apparently satisfied that he had made his point, he sat once more. “And so, I must make a decision,” Nicodemo continued in a more deliberate tone. “I could allow you to return with your men to Milan, so that you might tell your duke that Pontalba has nothing of his. . or I could hold you here until Ludovico comes and makes his apologies to me in person.”

“My men are waiting for me, Excellency,” Leonardo coolly countered. “If I am not returned to them hale and hearty by noontide, they will consider me a captive and your action one of aggression. As for my flowery accusations. .”

He paused and shrugged. “Just as Pontalba has its spies in Milan, so Milan has its spies in Pontalba. Let us agree to that much. And so, let me speak plainly.”

“Do go on,” the duke replied with an ironic nod.

Nodding in return, the Master continued. “We know that you hold as a captive Ludovico’s court engineer, the great genius Leonardo, a man of unrivaled talents known to all the surrounding provinces. We also know that you have stolen his magnificent invention, the likes of which has never before been seen, and that you intend to use that invention for ill.”

He paused again. . solely for dramatic purposes, I was certain. Then, like a magician performing his final illusion, he gave a sweep of his hand.

“And so, I present the Duke of Milan’s fi nal offer. Return both man and machine without delay, and our great excellency will forget this vile breach of your alliance with him.”

“And if I refuse?” Nicodemo countered with a feral grin.

Leonardo shrugged again. “If you refuse, you must prepare yourself for a siege that you shall not win.”

The muttering recommenced, and far louder this time. I watched in alarm as the nobles and men-at-arms began putting their hands to their hips, fingers stroking sword hilts. The situation was fast growing dire, I realized. Moreover, I likely had but little time left to find my father and make our escape before the guards were ordered to seal the gate.

I was prepared to slip away as silently as I had entered, when I heard a stir at the rear of the hall. Two men-at-arms were striding down the broad aisle toward where the duke sat, a third man a prisoner in their grasp. Though I could not make out his face for the small crowd that had surged closer to the aisle for a better look, I recognized in dismay his mane of dark hair and his bearing.

Halting alongside the spot where Leonardo stood, the soldiers released their prisoner and stepped back a few paces. The duke surveyed the two men, his feral grin returning.

“See, Captain, I am not an unreasonable man,” he said with cool joviality. “I have complied with part of your demand. Here is your missing master engineer, Leonardo the Florentine.”