Diane Stuckart - A Bolt from the Blue

“A valiant woman, indeed, for all her other shortcomings. I know of few females-and almost as few men-who would display such courage.” Then he added with a thoughtful frown, “For the moment, we shall assume that the matter of two washerwomen with the same names is an odd coincidence and nothing more. But recall that one must be careful of dismissing a truth out of hand before all facts are known.”

I nodded my somber agreement.

“So much has happened,” I declared, “and yet much remains concealed in secret. I still have no notion who dealt our dear Constantin his fatal blow, nor can I guess where else to look for an answer.”

“I suspect that all shall come clear once we have put the rest to right,” was his cryptic response. “Recall that we have yet to identify the young page who rousted Tito from sleep and set this all into motion. And there is the matter of this strange robed figure-whether man or woman-that you claim to have seen watching since your father’s arrival.”

I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. “Saints’ blood, it is a tangled web. What if we never learn the truth?”

“The truth has many versions. . and often much time must pass before we know which version we should have believed.”

He stood abruptly and flicked his long fingers in the familiar gesture of impatience. “But you have told your tale well, my boy. And now, surely you must be curious to see what your earlier words have wrought.”

We returned to the main workshop, and I saw now that a group of apprentices was loading one wagon with what I realized were some of Leonardo’s war machines. I had thought them but Leonardo’s private notations, alive on paper but never destined to see the light of day. . and yet here they were. A small catapult had already been neatly stowed, and now the youths were carting a trio of portable cannons, the gun of each designed to be taken apart from the body and wheels. What appeared to be a combination rolling barricade and ladder, large enough to shield five or six men, also sat to one side.

I stared for a puzzled moment, surveying this strange collection, before the obvious answer came to me. “Master,” I cried in surprise, “can we be going off to war?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Gesturing me back into the workshop, he went on. “As soon as I read your letter, I spoke with the captain of Il Moro’s guard, who claimed that his wrists were bound. It mattered not even if we knew with certainty that the Duke of Pontalba had broken the treaty and was behind the theft of the flying machine. The captain cannot send his men into Pontalba unless Ludovico himself first declares Milan to be at war. And so I decided that if I could not have Ludovico’s soldiers at my disposal, I would create an army of my own.”

He indicated the canvas-covered frames I had seen earlier. Paolo and Tommaso were at diligent work upon a pair of them, and I realized they were painting life-sized figures of men-at-arms.

“They’ve finished a small force already,” he said, pointing to stack of similar canvases drying nearby.

“And, see, I have raided my stage sets that I use for the various pageantries,” he added, nodding toward the collection of flat props, which included trees and bushes and carts. “In another hour or so, we shall be finished loading the wagons and be ready to set off.”

“We’re going to attack Castle Pontalba with painted soldiers?” I asked in no little confusion.

He shook his head.

“I seek only to give the appearance of siege. From a distance, it will appear as if we have all of Milan’s army ready for attack. My intent is to approach the castle in parlay, representing myself as Ludovico’s captain of the guard, and negotiate the return of Milan’s master engineer.”

“But, Master, can this work?”

“Perhaps. I have already dispatched an urgent message to Il Moro explaining what has occurred and asking that he agree to send his troops against Pontalba. But since the duke may prove fickle-or his army be tardy-I will not wait for his response. As for my plan, Nicodemo will know that Ludovico’s force is greater, and with luck he shall see the virtue of cooperating without bloodshed. If not, then we shall serve as distraction for as long as possible, until reinforcements arrive. . or until our deception is discovered.”

He stopped short of saying what might happen should the Duke of Pontalba learn that he had been duped by an artist and a group of apprentices. Still, I was able to guess at a plausible ending myself, and that bleak outcome dampened my initial enthusiasm over the Master’s plan. But inaction could prove equally dangerous, not only for my father and the duchess, but for the entire province.

And so I put myself to work loading our supplies. Tito had also joined our ranks, a large bundle balanced on his back as he scaled one of the wagons. Once the last prop had been securely packed, once the buckets of water and bags of food were loaded alongside the weaponry, we tied concealing cloths across the wagon beds and then assembled back in the workshop.

Leonardo entered a moment later, dressed now in black and red parti-colored trunk hose and a white tunic, over which he’d laced a heavy black leather jerkin. A sword dangled from one hip, and a long knife from the other, while a helmet was tucked beneath one arm. Looking less the great artist now and more the hardened soldier, he gestured us to gather closer.

“We are about to embark upon a mission of great importance in the name of the Duke of Milan,” he intoned with the gravity of a bishop. “Already, all here have given me their vows of secrecy as we made our preparations. Your job going forward will be to provide distraction by appearing to be part of an armed force poised to attack Castle Pontalba. . and so I shall ask for another vow, one of loyalty.”

He paused and raised a hand to silence a sudden eager stirring among the youths.

“First, however, I will have you recall that what is to come will be but a masquerade,” he went on. “You will be performing as if in a pageant. You will not fight or otherwise bear arms but simply add an air of veracity to the role that I shall play. That does not mean, however, that your part is unimportant. . nor does it guarantee that you will not face true danger at some point.”

The murmurs, which had earlier settled down, resumed again at this disquieting possibility. A few of the boys glanced uncertainly among themselves, the cheeks of more than one youth growing pale. Leonardo allowed this interlude to continue for a few moments and then raised his hand again for order.

“I will assure you once more that your participation in this mission is strictly voluntary,” he continued. “You are apprentices and not soldiers; thus, I cannot force you to join me. Neither will I think the less of you if you choose to remain behind. And the only reward for those who take part is the knowledge that they will have helped preserve Milan and rescued two of our citizens cruelly held captive in Pontalba as we speak. So make your decision carefully but quickly. . and all who wish to join me, step to my right hand.”

He flourished the hand in question most dramatically, and for an instant all was still. Then, with nary a murmur, every apprentice-myself, included-marched over to his dexter side. Leonardo waited until we were settled in place and then surveyed us with a look of pride.

“Very well, then lift your own hand, and vow that you shall follow my orders these next few days with the same obedience that a soldier pays to his captain.”

The flurry of hands and eager cries of agreement brought a proud tear to my eye. Surely with so valiant a band, my father would soon be rescued, and the duchess and the flying machine both restored to their proper places.