A Bolt from the Blue

Then I froze, hand on lock, as it occurred to me that such a plan might prove to be but a retelling of Marianna’s tale. I could not risk his life on Rebecca’s loyalty, not until I was certain where it lay. For if she were but a tool of the Duke of Pontalba, our escape surely would be cut short, and all of us-my father and Tito and me-would be returned to a cell in Castle Pontalba.

“Oh, Father, what shall I do?” I softly cried. “I fear I must leave you here, after all. I do not know if Rebecca is to be trusted, and I cannot spirit you from Pontalba by myself.”

“Fear not, my child,” he assured me with a gentle smile. “I would not have you risk your life for mine. It is more than enough that you made this dangerous journey. You and your friends must return to Milan and seek counsel from Leonardo. As far as rescuing me, you need not worry… for I intend to liberate myself!”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“It is quite simple. Remember, Delfina, the ancient tale of the great craftsman Daedalus? He and his son lost the favor of the cruel king Minos and so were locked in the Labyrinth. Since the grounds and the seas around the kingdom were guarded, Daedalus determined that their one means of escape from that maze was by air. He built them both sets of wings, and thus they flew to freedom. And that is what I intend to do.”

I stared at him in amazement. “Do you mean that you will escape Pontalba by flying Master Leonardo’s invention?”

He nodded.

“It was I who suggested that we do the building upon the roof of the castle, though I claimed simply I needed the breezes to help test certain mechanisms. My plan is to modify Leonardo’s design by adding wheels to the craft, so that I can roll it to the top of the roof and launch it by myself. The pitch of the roof should allow me to gain sufficient speed so that I will be safely airborne by the time I reach the drop-off point.”

“But, Father, that is far too dangerous,” I protested. “The Master said that craft should be launched over a pond or lake, so that if something goes wrong, the water will cushion the landing.”

“I have no choice, child.”

His expression grim, he went on. “I have heard the duke’s plans for this machine. He wishes to have dozens of them at his disposal so that he can conquer the surrounding provinces… perhaps Rome herself. We cannot risk allowing such a dangerous weapon to fall into his hands. And so you can see that I must attempt this escape not simply to preserve my life but to stop the deaths of hundreds more.”

“But, Father, the design is untested,” I reminded him in a small voice. “If something goes wrong…”

I trailed off, unable to give voice to my worst fear, but he merely smiled.

“You should have greater faith in your master. If Signor Leonardo’s design is true, and the winds and my strength hold, I shall fly the craft all the way back to Milan. If not, I will fly as far as I can.”

Remembering that Daedalus’s tale did not end happily-as best I recalled, his son Icarus lost his wings and plummeted to the earth-I could only shake my head at this dangerous plan. Still, there was sense in what he said. For even if Il Moro’s men attacked the castle in an attempt to recover both him and the flying machine, there was little assurance that my father would walk free in the end. As vindictive a man as the duke gave all appearance of being, he might well kill the man he thought to be Leonardo rather than return him safely to Ludovico.

“Very well, Father, I shall trust your judgment,” I reluctantly agreed. “We shall leave here in the morning, and as soon as we arrive back in Milan, I shall tell the Master all, so that he may explain the situation to Il Moro.”

“Ah, you are a dutiful daughter,” he replied with a smile. “Do not worry on my account, but keep yourself safe. Now, you should go, lest the guards come back and find you here.”

I leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek through the gap in the door; then, swiping away tears, I said, “Be careful. And know that if anything happens, I shall make certain that Mother learns the truth.”

“Ah, your mother,” he said with a wry smile. “There is something I should tell you about my journey to Milan that concerns her.”

What that something was, I did not learn, for the sound of a slamming door below abruptly dimmed his smile. “Quickly, go,” he urged. “All shall be well.”

With a final nod, I pinched out my candle and hurried back to the hatch where I’d entered. The glow from the oil lamp in the wall was faint enough that I did not think it could be seen; still, I snuffed that light, as well, and waited silently to discover if anyone was coming my way. By then, my eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness, so I was able manage the stairs, though I clung to the rough-hewn wall for safety. I was breathing heavily by the time I made my way down the second staircase to the ground floor. The sounds of merriment still poured from the great hall, and a look up at the stars assured me that I had not been gone for all that long a time.