A Bolt from the Blue

For a single unworthy moment, I considered doing just that. By exposing Tito’s secret, I might gain back my role as assistant in this project. Despite the fact that he had been hired by Il Moro to build weapons of war, Leonardo loathed violence and disapproved of carrying arms.

On the other hand, I had seen him wield a sword when danger threatened and knew he was not foolish enough to let his scruples override the safety of those around him… including himself. And, in truth, I would feel better knowing that both the Master and my father had someone with them as they worked who could serve as protector.

Thus, I shook my head.

“I shall say nothing, so long as you swear you will tell me everything that happens each day as you work,” I agreed. “And you must tell me if you see anyone acting suspiciously near the Master or my father, so that I may help you to keep an eye on that person.”

I thought again of the mysterious robed figure that had spied upon me at the parade grounds and perhaps later as I’d searched for Constantin’s killer in the quadrangle. If that person still lurked about Castle Sforza, I had not seen him again. Perhaps those strange sightings had been but a coincidence, merely a visitor who had gone about his true business and was long departed from the castle grounds.

Tito and I parted with a polite enough clasp of our hands, though I admit with some shame that I still struggled with my resentment. And I was further mollified later in the day when, quite unexpectedly, my father appeared in the chapel and summoned me to one side.

“Your master took young Tito with him to purchase more fabric for the wings,” he whispered, so that none of the others could hear. “While they are away, perhaps you would care to come see this grand machine of his.”

The shed where the flying machine was stored lay not far from the stables. Pulling a large key from his pouch, my father unfastened the heavy lock that barred the pair of large doors. He opened one just wide enough for us to slip inside and then pulled the doors shut behind us. I barely noticed his actions, for I was staring in awe at the full-sized craft in the center of the shed’s dirt floor.

More correctly, it was the body of the flying machine that sat propped up on a trio of wooden supports. The skeletal framework of wings lay to one side, one already covered in linen and the other still bare. The body was longer than I’d expected it to be, perhaps twice my length with the blunt little tail included. Though it was of deceptively simple design, my artist’s eye could see now that much thought had gone into creating a craft of graceful yet practical lines. Once the finished wings were attached, it would be a magnificent sight, indeed! And if it could truly be made to fly-

“Oh, Father, would it not be wonderful to be the one who piloted this craft about the clouds,” I cried, envying the Master the opportunity he would have.

My father shrugged. “I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground,” he replied, though I sensed he, too, had begun to see the possibilities of Leonardo’s invention.

And so I returned to my labors in far better humor than when I’d started the day. My feelings toward Tito were again amicable when he joined the rest of us outside the kitchen for the evening meal.

Once we finished our usual stew and started back toward the workshop, he contrived to fall several paces behind the others. With an almost imperceptible twitch of his head, he gestured me to join him.

“We made quite good progress,” he confided, leaning close enough so that I could smell the garlic from the evening’s meal upon his breath. His pockmarked features reflected far greater cheer than they had in many days as he went on. “We have almost completed the machine’s body, though Master Leonardo declared that the pedal mechanism needs adjustment.”

He described their progress in a bit more detail and finished, “And I saw nothing amiss… No one spied upon us or appeared unduly interested in our work.”

He paused to assume a swaggering manner, putting a hand to the breast of his tunic, under which I was certain was hidden his knife. “Of course, I was ready for any trouble.”

“Of course,” I echoed, torn between relief and dismay at this show of bravado. Had he ever actually faced someone intent on robbing him of his life, I wondered, or was his only experience that of slashing at imaginary foes?

Something of my doubt must have shown upon my face, for he frowned and added, “Fear not, Dino. I swear that should anyone attempt to harm the Master or your father, I will gladly lay down my life to protect them.”