A Bolt from the Blue

“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.