A Bolt from the Blue

26

At her cry, the other apprentices stepped away from me, so that I was left standing in the center of the ring that they formed. Miserably, I glanced from face to face. Some stared back at me with wary expressions; others wore looks of outraged disbelief. Vittorio was gaping in openmouthed astonishment, while Davide merely gave his head a gentle shake, his expression one of private vindication.

Bernardo was the first to speak up.

“You mean that Dino is truly a girl?” he squeaked, curls bobbing and cheeks flushing as he pointed at me. “But it can’t be. A girl cannot paint!”

By way of response, my mother tossed aside her cloak and shoved through the ring of stunned young men. Her dark blue skirts swishing like an angry feline’s lashing tail, she advanced on me and seized me by the arm.

“Yes, Delfina is a girl,” she declared in outrage, “though one would hardly know it, to look at her. Of course, this is all her father’s fault, allowing her to run away from a perfectly fine marriage.”

Her fiery gaze promptly landed upon my father.

“You thought you could fool me, Angelo, pretending you had no idea where our daughter had gone,” she cried as he gazed miserably down at his feet. “I found the missives she sent you, and I guessed that you had a particular reason for accepting a commission in Milan. That is why I followed you here, to see if my suspicions were correct. But I never expected this!”

Taking in my disheveled appearance from head to foot, she went on in a heated tone. “I could not believe my eyes, at first, that one of those boys was in truth my own daughter. And before I could confront her, you and she disappeared. I had no choice but to pay for a squalid room in town and wait until the guard I bribed brought me word that you had returned.

“I don’t know what the greater scandal is,” she went on, barely pausing to draw breath, “the clothes she is wearing or the fact all of you were too blind to see the truth. And what is this?” she demanded and gestured at my bandages. “Have you injured yourself?”

“It is of no account,” I replied, pulling my arm from her grasp and drawing myself up with as much dignity as I could muster. “I was shot with a crossbow and hurt my head when I crashed the Master’s flying machine. And do not blame my fellows for my deception, for I took every care to keep them from learning the truth.”

“Pah, and what of Signor Leonardo?” she countered with a derisive gesture in his direction, more concerned with that question than my litany of wounds. “Surely a man who has spent years painting both men and women must know a female when he sees one.”

I had opened my mouth to defend Leonardo, when his gaze abruptly met mine. Instead of surprise, I saw in his dark eyes a glimmer of wry knowledge. Stunned, I clamped my lips shut again and felt the blood drain from my face.

It cannot be, I thought, sending him a pleading look in return. But rather than deny the accusation, he gave me the faintest of nods. I felt my insides plummet, as they had when the flying machine had fi rst leaped into nothingness.

Saints’ blood, he knows. . likely has always known!

I shut my eyes against the sudden tears that threatened. I had been the blind one, not he. All these many months I had thought myself so clever, so careful, and yet in the end I had not deceived him. But knowing the truth, why had he allowed my dangerous masquerade, when its discovery would have brought equal censure down upon him?

Swept up as I was in my own misery, I barely heard him snap a command to my fellows.

“Draftsmen, take the canvases you just stacked, and carry them back outside. Use your blades to scrape every bit of paint from them, so that they look new again. And when they look new, scrape them yet again.”

His expression far sterner than I’d ever seen it, he added, “And before you go, I will have the vow of each one of you that no whisper of what you have witnessed will go beyond the workshop doors.”

“I swear I shall say nothing, Master,” Davide promptly spoke up, hand on his heart as he gave me an encouraging nod. The other apprentices made their promises, as well. . some grudging, and others rueful, but all were in accord.

The Master acknowledged their words with a satisfied nod. “Very well, be off. But keep in mind that your vow is to bind you for all time. Any transgressor will be found out and dismissed from his apprenticeship, and every master in the province warned that he is not to be trusted.”

The severity of his threat was sufficient to gain their silence, had any of them been inclined to gossip. Spurred on by Davide, they grabbed up their knives and canvases and filed out of the workshop. At that, Leonardo turned to me.

“Your parents and I have much to discuss,” he said, his tone surprisingly mild, given all that had happened. “Perhaps you will be good enough to retrieve Pio from the stable-boy and bring him back to my quarters.”

Before I could reply, my mother shot him a baleful look.

“How dare you order my daughter about, Signor Leonardo! You are fortunate that I do not demand an audience with the duke himself to reveal the nature of your perfidy. In fact, I have a mind to-”

“Silence!”

The outraged command that cut her off came not from Leonardo but from my father. His mild features suffused with anger, he strode to where my mother and I stood.

“You forget that Delfina is my daughter, and that her welfare is my responsibility,” he clipped out, wagging a finger in her face. “Signor Leonardo and I have a few matters to discuss concerning her. You may remain here and listen to what is said, on the condition that you conduct yourself as an obedient wife and hold your peace. Delfina shall go after the dog, as her master ordered.”

For a moment, I thought my mother would rail back at him. To my surprise, however, she gave a grudging nod.

“Very well, Angelo, I shall leave the matter to you. But perhaps you will have her put on my cloak so that she is not parading about the grounds half-naked.”

I looked to my father, who nodded that I should comply. Grateful for his intercession, I made no protest but grabbed up the cloak and flung it about my shoulders before limping off toward the stables.

What was said between the Master and my father, I never knew for certain. I had no doubt, however, that the days of my apprenticeship were at an end. Even if my father had agreed that I might remain behind at Castle Sforza, I knew the Master would not allow it. With the truth about me revealed to the entire workshop, the likelihood of discovery by the duke was far too great, so that neither Leonardo nor I could take that risk.

By the time I had shed a few hot tears over my plight and returned from the stables with the boisterous Pio in my arms, my parents were waiting for me outside the Master’s quarters. I gave the small hound a final kiss and opened the door, smiling mistily as I watched him trot over to Leonardo’s bed. With his usual long-legged grace, he leaped atop it and curled upon the pillow, settling in with a pink-tongued yawn for canine dreams. Gently closing the door after him, I turned to my father.

“Will I be allowed to retrieve my things and make my good-byes to my friends?”

“Certainly,” he said with a kind nod. “We shall return on the morrow, and you will have a chance to bid them farewell.”

“And Master Leonardo, may I see him once more? I–I still owe him an apology.”

I heard my mother’s genteel snort, but my father gave me a small smile. “Of course, you shall see him tomorrow, as well. He is anxious to speak with you a final time.”

Unlike me, my mother had not traveled to Milan on foot; instead, she had made her journey in a small cart she had borrowed from one of my father’s friends. The cart awaited us outside the workshop. A small mercy, I told myself, for my leg still ached from the bolt’s angry blades. My father helped us into it, and we drove in silence toward the castle’s main gate.

The sight of the clock tower there and its immense flanking turrets almost undid me, bringing a flood of memories both bitter and sweet of my time at Castle Sforza. While I had once been loath to gaze upon those towers, I all but wept at the knowledge that I would never see them again. My apprenticeship in Milan had been so short, and yet I had lived and loved and faced death more than enough for many lifetimes.

How could I return home to my small village, with no future before me but a single bleak room in my father or my brother’s house. . or perhaps a loveless marriage, with never another chance to paint grand masterpieces as I’d always dreamed?

But, stubbornly, I managed to hold back my tears. Too soon, we arrived at the small but clean room that had been my mother’s abode for the past few days. I allowed myself a bit of grudging admiration for her, for she had made her way alone to Milan and without the protection of a boy’s disguise. Perhaps she and I were more alike than either of us had realized.

At my mother’s insistence, my first act was to strip off my boy’s garb and put on one of her gowns. My fingers fumbled a bit over the feminine ties and laces that I’d last grappled with several months earlier when I’d been disguised as Caterina’s maidservant. My mother welcomed the change with a tight smile, though she shook her head in despair over my cropped hair.

“Pah, we shall have to make do until it grows out again,” she exclaimed. “Ah, well, I shall simply tell our neighbors that you suffered a fever while you were traveling that required it be cut off.”

Later that night, after a meal far better than any I’d had for some time, I settled on a pallet in the corner of the room. It was strange, not hearing the snores of my fellow apprentices around, but my parents’ soft breathing. I waited until I was certain they were both asleep. Only then did I release the storm of tears that had built inside of me. . tears for Constantin, and Tito, and myself. The pillow in which I buried my face muffled my sobs, so that no one else heard them, but my swollen eyes come morning could not be disguised.

Surprisingly, my mother made no comment. Instead, she had helped me dress my wounded leg and, once I was dressed, put her hand to restoring my cropped locks.

“Ah, such beautiful hair,” she murmured as she ran a comb through it as she had when I was a small girl. “Mine was never so thick and shiny. How you could have borne to cut it, I cannot understand, but we shall fi x it.”

When she had finished, my mother handed me a small mirror to survey her handiwork. I saw with a bit of pleasure that, despite my red eyes, I looked quite presentable. She had braided the short length with several ribbons and draped a small veil above the nape of my neck. While the lower portion of the veil fluttered loose, she’d tied the other two points beneath the small cap I wore so it appeared that the cloth covered a neatly coiled braid.

“Signor Luigi would be proud,” I muttered as I put the mirror aside, recalling the tailor’s painstaking restoration of my hair with borrowed locks that he had braided into my own as he’d created my maidservant disguise.

By that time, my father had returned from whatever errand he’d taken himself upon while my mother labored over me. His eyes brightened as he saw us standing side by side.

“Ah, Delfina, you look almost as beautiful as your mother,” he exclaimed, drawing a reluctant smile from his wife. Sobering, he asked, “Are you ready to return to the castle?”

Thankfully, my father insisted that my mother stay behind. “Let the girl make her farewells in peace,” he declared in the same stern voice he’d used on her in the workshop.

Throwing up her hands, Carmela had made no further protests, though from the stubborn set of her mouth, I feared my father might hear about this later.

We spoke little on the way. . my father, likely because he did not know what to say, and I, because I feared another cloudburst of tears like the storm that had soaked my pillow the night before. In my lap, I held my apprentice’s brown tunic, neatly folded. Somehow, the thought of giving it up seemed the hardest task yet to come, and I clutched the familiar rough cloth as a child hugged a favored toy for comfort.

Our journey back to the castle was unbearably long and yet far too swift. When we finally reached the workshop, I found myself frozen to my seat. Seeing my hesitation, my father gave my hand a squeeze.

“I realize it will be difficult, facing your friends this way, but you will regret it if you do not see them one last time,” he urged in a kind voice. “And those that are your true friends will not care if you are a youth or a maid.”

Biting my lip, I nodded and let him help me from the cart. The workshop door was ajar to let in the warm breeze, and I could hear the apprentices’ familiar voices as they went about their tasks. Lightly, I stepped past the threshold and, still clutching my tunic, gazed at them fondly one final time.

Paolo was the first to notice my presence. The others quickly followed his gaze, and all chatter ceased as they stared in my direction, seeing me for the first time as I truly was. I stared back and in a small panic realized I could find no words, either. Indeed, I was prepared to turn and flee when Davide stepped forward, a smile upon his face.

“There you are, at last, and far prettier than I could have imagined,” he said with a gallant bow. “I am very pleased to meet you, signorina, but I confess that I shall miss our young friend Dino, whose place that you took.”

“I shall miss him, too,” I admitted, swiping away a tear. “And I shall miss all of you, as well. Pray tell me that you do not hate me for my deception. I wanted the chance to study with the Master, and I could not do so in my true guise.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he declared, his tone gracious as always. “You simply have proven that you will let nothing stop you from pursuing your life’s passion. It should not matter if you are Dino or Delfina, so long as you are talented with a brush. The other apprentices would do well to imitate you.”

“Wait; does that mean I have to dress as a girl?” Vittorio cried in mock alarm, rising from his seat at the workbench. “If so, I fear I will never be a great artist, after all.”

His jest drew laughter from the rest of them, dispelling the uncertain silence that had held them. One by one, they came to join Davide, until I was surrounded by a score of cheerful youths all speaking at once.

“You played your role well,” Tommaso exclaimed in admiration, drawing nods from Paolo and most of the others. “I confess I had no idea you were not a boy, no matter that your cot was next to mine.”

“Bah, I could have told you she was a girl,” Bernardo declared, gazing about with an important air.

Philippe promptly nudged him in the ribs. “Then why didn’t you?” he demanded with a grin as the others genially jeered.

The youth shot him a dark look. “Because no one ever asked, that’s why,” he replied and crossed his arms over his chest to emphasize his words.

While the others laughed, Vittorio stepped forward and gave me a shy smile. “I confess I did not guess, either, but I hope we can still be friends, no matter that you are a girl.”

“Of course, we can,” I replied, not caring that the tears were running freely down my cheeks. “And you may still call me Dino, if you wish.”

He grinned, but before he could answer, a hush fell over the workshop. As always, such a respectful silence meant that Leonardo had stepped into the room.

Slowly, I turned to meet his warm gaze, feeling suddenly shy to be standing before him as my true self. He gave me an approving smile before turning his attention to the apprentices.

“It is good to hear all of you laughing again, after the sorrow that has held us the past days. But now, I fear there is work still to be done on the duke’s fresco, so you must make your farewells to your dear friend and be off.”

“Do you have to go?” Bernardo asked in a plaintive voice, his lower lip quivering as he rushed over to me. “Truly, I don’t care if you’re a girl, after all.”

“I fear I must,” I replied, aware that my own lips were trembling. “And the Master is right. We must not linger any longer but must say our farewells.”

The next few moments were a blur of tears and hugs and smiles as I said good-bye to each youth in turn. Vittorio was last to step forward, and for a moment we could do nothing but stare at each other.

With a choked little cry, I hugged him and whispered, “Vittorio, you were always a true friend. I shall never forget you. Take good care of Pio for me.”

“I shall,” he said, trying manfully not to weep but in the end not succeeding. “And perhaps you can come back to Milan one day to visit us.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed with a hopeful smile. “After all, my father has begun to take on many important commissions, and he will need someone to assist him in his travels. And surely he will find another patron here in Milan.”

Vittorio nodded vigorously. Then, with another quick embrace, he turned and vanished through the workshop door, leaving me alone with my father and Leonardo.

The two men exchanged glances, and my father gave me a nod. “Why don’t you let me pack up your belongings, while you take a walk with your master in the quadrangle.”

A few minutes later, Leonardo and I were sitting upon the familiar bench in one of the greens where we had plotted and planned many a time before. Wordlessly, he handed me a fine scrap of embroidered linen, and I wept into it quite copiously for several moments. When I was finally able to speak past the tears, I managed the question that was uppermost in my mind.

“How-how long did you know that I was not a boy?”

“Almost from the start, when you first came to my door showing me your coin and asking to pay for an apprenticeship,” he replied, gazing across the grounds toward the clock tower.

With a small smile, he turned his gaze on me. “Your mother was correct, though I know you are loath to hear that said. I’ve sketched and painted countless men and women over the years, and in my notebooks I have catalogued the many differences between the male and female form. I would be remiss as an artist, had you not raised my suspicions.”

“But why did you allow me to become your apprentice, if you knew I was not what I claimed to be?” I asked in confusion.

He shrugged. “Your eagerness pleased me, and your talent with the brush was far greater than most of the boys I’d taken on. It did not seem fair that you should be denied the training you sought, simply because you were the wrong sex. And so I decided that if you did not tell, I would not ask.”

“Signor Luigi guessed quickly enough,” I told him with a rueful shake of my head, “and he did not hesitate to accuse me. But he found the deception amusing, or so he claimed, and so he helped me when he could to keep my secret safe.”

Another thought occurred to me, and I sat up straighter, staring at him with no little alarm. “Did anyone else suspect the truth. . any of the apprentices?”

“Constantin had his suspicions, but we had an unspoken agreement similar to the one I had with myself. And so he took care to make sure that you were never put into a situation where your modesty would be compromised or where someone else might guess the truth.”

I dabbed at my eyes again with the soaked bit of linen. “Constantin was a true friend,” I said in a small voice. “I miss him terribly.”

Recalling the main reason I had wished to speak with him, I blurted, “I am sorry about the flying machine, Master. I accept that you are angry with me, and I would not blame you if you never forgave me for what I did. But you must believe that I would never have touched it, save that I knew the duke was prepared to send his men to slaughter the apprentices. I–I thought if I could but fly it long enough to distract the soldiers, they might make their escape.”

I had hoped to make a far more eloquent apology than that, but the words had tumbled out almost before I realized it. With nothing more to say, I stared down miserably at the brown tunic I held in my lap and waited for whatever words of censure might come. Instead, and to my surprise, I heard him softly sigh.

“My dear Delfina, I was never angry at you,” he replied. “My condemnation was for myself. The craft was untested, and for all my fine theories and boasting to your father, I had no proof that it would fly. I had already lost Constantin and Tito. Had you died, as well, I would never have forgiven myself.”

He sighed again, the soft sound full of harsh regret. “But even when I knew you were safe, I was too proud to show my fear before you and the others. Instead, I preferred to let you think that I was angry. And so you can see that it is I who should beg your forgiveness.”

His words made my heart rise with the same exhilaration I’d felt as I swooped about the sky. Eagerly, I shook my head.

“There is nothing to forgive, Master,” I cried. “But tell me, why did you burn the flying machine, instead of carrying the pieces back to the castle with us and repairing it? For it did fly, after all, just as you said it would!”

“And that is the reason I had to destroy it.”

The finality in his words took me by surprise, but before I could protest, he went on. “What I’ve seen these past days confirms my greatest fear, that mankind is not yet ready for such power. We are not civilized enough to control the earth, let alone have dominion over the skies. Two young men died most cruelly-and many others could have easily joined them-and all for a frivolous theory of mine that I foolishly allowed to rise from the pages of my notebook.”

“But what will you tell Il Moro?” I asked with no little concern. “I thought he expected a demonstration of the flying machine. Surely you will not be able to deny him, now that his soldiers have seen it.”

“I will tell him that the craft has a fatal flaw, and that my theories were wrong. And, as a small consolation, I shall give him the bladed chariot.”

I nodded, not quite as hopeful as he that Ludovico Sforza would be content with what he would deem a far inferior prize. Then, recalling the tunic, I bundled it into a smaller package and held the well-loved garment out to him.

“I fear I must return this, so that you may give it to whichever young man takes my place.”

“Ah, but not quite yet.”

He shook his head and gazed down upon me with the familiar smile that I realized was not that of a father or a lover, but instead of a faithful friend. Rising from the bench, he offered me his hand.

“For, my dear Delfina, I have a small surprise for you,” he declared, his warm fingers gripping mine as he lightly pulled me up to stand before him. “Signor Angelo has convinced his good wife that you should remain in Milan for another day or two to gain back your strength, before you undertake the journey back to your home. And so, with his permission, there remains one small task I must ask of Dino before he leaves us for good.”

“A task?” I echoed uncertainly, my grip on the tunic tightening. “But what would you have me do?”

“You shall see on the morrow. Return to your bed to rest, and I will meet you outside the duke’s private chapel in the morning. . let us say by the time the clock tower strikes the hour of eight.

“And do not forget, young Dino,” he added with a smile, “to bring along your tunic.”