A Bolt from the Blue

In truth, whoever has control over such irresistible forces will be lord over all nations…

– Leonardo da Vinci, Folio B

“What do you mean, we?” Tito cried, his expression of astonishment at the washerwoman’s words likely mirroring my own. “You’re not coming with us.”

“You cannot come,” I echoed, “for our mission will be dangerous and requires great stealth.”

“Stealth? Bah!”

Rebecca dismissed the word with the sweep of a broad hand.

“Stealth is the last thing you need. Surely you don’t expect to sneak into the duke’s castle like you’re spies sent from the pope. You boys will be lucky to make your way past the main gates before the duke’s guards catch you and string you up by your heels.”

“And you think you can get past them without being noticed?” Tito demanded, his expression growing more mutinous with her every word.

The washerwoman shrugged. “Oh, we’ll be noticed, all right. But my way, no one will pay us heed. Besides, I can see to it that we drive a wagon in fine style just like the duke himself, instead of walking like peasants.”

“If we ride, we can save a good day’s travel,” I exclaimed. “But how will you find us a wagon?”

For such conveyances were the purview of titled gentlemen or else those of the better classes who could afford the luxury of a horse or two. How the washerwoman might put her chapped hands on such a prize, I could not guess.

By way of answer, Rebecca gave her ample skirts a coy swish. “Let’s just say that I take care of the stable master’s laundry, and he lends me a cart and pony when I need it.”

She followed those words with a broad smile and a wink. I blushed as I realized that the man’s clothing was likely not all she attended to in return for such bounty. My reaction drew a ribald laugh, and she gave me an amiable pat upon the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, little Dino. When you get older, maybe I’ll do your laundry for you, too.”

While my blush burned brighter still at that last, she straightened her skirts and then assumed a businesslike mien. “You two boys find supplies, enough to last us a couple of days. And blankets, too, as we’ll be sleeping under the stars for a night or two. I’ll go get our wagon and meet you back here in a short while.”

She trudged out the door at a brisk pace, leaving Tito and me to gape at each other for a moment. Finally, he managed an indignant snort.

“Pah, what is she thinking, this washerwoman?” he demanded with a scornful air. “We do not want her company. Come; let us be off before she returns. This is man’s work, and she will only hinder us with her female foolishness.”

“What do you mean, female foolishness?” I countered, doing my best to hide my indignation. “So far, her plan seems better than any you have suggested. Where do you think you can find a wagon for us to travel in, and how do you think to storm the duke’s castle? I say we travel with her. Surely we will draw fewer comments riding with her than wandering the road to Pontalba on our own.”

Tito opened his mouth as if to protest further but then clamped his lips shut again and shook his head.

“Very well, Dino, I shall go along with you, but don’t say I did not warn you. I can think of no greater disaster than having a woman thinking she is in charge of such a mission.”

He patted the chest of his tunic under which his knife was hidden. “As for supplies, I have all that I need here,” he declared with an important nod. Then, when I frowned, he was quick to add, “But I’ll find blankets and water, if you will take care of the food.”

“I’ll get what I can from the kitchens. But I must also tell Davide that we shall be gone for a few days, lest he worry unduly.”

“Just tell him that we’re with your father and the Master conducting experiments out in the countryside,” Tito said with a careless shrug before heading out the door, as well.

It was only after he left that it occurred to me to wonder what Leonardo would think should he return while we were gone and discover the flying machine’s theft. Would he believe the worst… that Tito and my father and I had absconded with his great invention? Or would he realize that someone else, perhaps the person who had murdered Constantin, was behind the flying machine’s disappearance.

Besides, unlike Tito, I was not naive enough to believe that we could rescue my father and recover the flying machine on our own. Even with Rebecca’s dubious assistance, such a feat would surely require the Master’s help… and, despite our earlier protests, that of Il Moro’s army. Worse, what if Rebecca’s dire prediction came true? If the Duke of Pontalba’s men captured Tito and me before we could determine my father’s fate, Leonardo might never know the truth of what had happened in his absence.