Diane Stuckart - A Bolt from the Blue

“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.”