A Bolt from the Blue

Gesturing me back into the workshop, he went on. “As soon as I read your letter, I spoke with the captain of Il Moro’s guard, who claimed that his wrists were bound. It mattered not even if we knew with certainty that the Duke of Pontalba had broken the treaty and was behind the theft of the flying machine. The captain cannot send his men into Pontalba unless Ludovico himself first declares Milan to be at war. And so I decided that if I could not have Ludovico’s soldiers at my disposal, I would create an army of my own.”

He indicated the canvas-covered frames I had seen earlier. Paolo and Tommaso were at diligent work upon a pair of them, and I realized they were painting life-sized figures of men-at-arms.

“They’ve finished a small force already,” he said, pointing to stack of similar canvases drying nearby.

“And, see, I have raided my stage sets that I use for the various pageantries,” he added, nodding toward the collection of flat props, which included trees and bushes and carts. “In another hour or so, we shall be finished loading the wagons and be ready to set off.”

“We’re going to attack Castle Pontalba with painted soldiers?” I asked in no little confusion.

He shook his head.

“I seek only to give the appearance of siege. From a distance, it will appear as if we have all of Milan’s army ready for attack. My intent is to approach the castle in parlay, representing myself as Ludovico’s captain of the guard, and negotiate the return of Milan’s master engineer.”

“But, Master, can this work?”

“Perhaps. I have already dispatched an urgent message to Il Moro explaining what has occurred and asking that he agree to send his troops against Pontalba. But since the duke may prove fickle-or his army be tardy-I will not wait for his response. As for my plan, Nicodemo will know that Ludovico’s force is greater, and with luck he shall see the virtue of cooperating without bloodshed. If not, then we shall serve as distraction for as long as possible, until reinforcements arrive… or until our deception is discovered.”

He stopped short of saying what might happen should the Duke of Pontalba learn that he had been duped by an artist and a group of apprentices. Still, I was able to guess at a plausible ending myself, and that bleak outcome dampened my initial enthusiasm over the Master’s plan. But inaction could prove equally dangerous, not only for my father and the duchess, but for the entire province.

And so I put myself to work loading our supplies. Tito had also joined our ranks, a large bundle balanced on his back as he scaled one of the wagons. Once the last prop had been securely packed, once the buckets of water and bags of food were loaded alongside the weaponry, we tied concealing cloths across the wagon beds and then assembled back in the workshop.

Leonardo entered a moment later, dressed now in black and red parti-colored trunk hose and a white tunic, over which he’d laced a heavy black leather jerkin. A sword dangled from one hip, and a long knife from the other, while a helmet was tucked beneath one arm. Looking less the great artist now and more the hardened soldier, he gestured us to gather closer.

“We are about to embark upon a mission of great importance in the name of the Duke of Milan,” he intoned with the gravity of a bishop. “Already, all here have given me their vows of secrecy as we made our preparations. Your job going forward will be to provide distraction by appearing to be part of an armed force poised to attack Castle Pontalba… and so I shall ask for another vow, one of loyalty.”

He paused and raised a hand to silence a sudden eager stirring among the youths.

“First, however, I will have you recall that what is to come will be but a masquerade,” he went on. “You will be performing as if in a pageant. You will not fight or otherwise bear arms but simply add an air of veracity to the role that I shall play. That does not mean, however, that your part is unimportant… nor does it guarantee that you will not face true danger at some point.”

The murmurs, which had earlier settled down, resumed again at this disquieting possibility. A few of the boys glanced uncertainly among themselves, the cheeks of more than one youth growing pale. Leonardo allowed this interlude to continue for a few moments and then raised his hand again for order.

“I will assure you once more that your participation in this mission is strictly voluntary,” he continued. “You are apprentices and not soldiers; thus, I cannot force you to join me. Neither will I think the less of you if you choose to remain behind. And the only reward for those who take part is the knowledge that they will have helped preserve Milan and rescued two of our citizens cruelly held captive in Pontalba as we speak. So make your decision carefully but quickly… and all who wish to join me, step to my right hand.”