A Bolt from the Blue

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?