A Bolt from the Blue

“Very well, Uncle. The Duke of Milan’s army is not waiting in the forest preparing to lay siege. In fact, Il Moro is meeting secretly with the French king’s representatives and is unaware of what is happening here in Pontalba. He knows nothing of the missing flying machine or the supposed kidnapping of his master engineer.”

“But the men in the forest-”

“-are but an illusion concocted by Leonardo,” Tito cut his uncle short with a small smirk of satisfaction. “The so-called army is but twenty of his apprentices, and many painted canvases cleverly arranged to look like rows of fighting men.”

“You are certain of this?” the duke demanded, his expression one of genuine surprise.

Tito shrugged. “I was there, and I helped arrange the props myself.”

Nicodemo sat silent for a moment, tapping his fingertips together as he considered the situation. Finally, he replied, “This is, indeed, a bird of a different feather. Twenty boys, you say?”

At Tito’s nod, the duke shot Leonardo another feral smile.

“You are quite clever, Florentine, and another time your plan might have borne fruit. This time, however, I fear your cleverness will be your undoing… but, for the moment, I have decided to keep you and the cabinetmaker alive.”

Turning to his captain of the guard, he commanded, “Remove these two to the dungeons, and have your men mount up. I want you to scour the forest and bring me those boys. Those who resist, run them through with your swords where they stand. The others, bring to the castle and toss them into the dungeon with their master and the cabinetmaker.”

To Leonardo, he said in satisfaction, “We shall see if Ludovico chooses to bring his true army to Pontalba once he learns of your fate. If he does, those boys of yours will make a fine greeting for him, hanging from my parapets. And, if he does not, I’m sure they will prove able workers in my quarry cutting stone to rebuild my castle.”

Whether or not Leonardo made a reply to that last, I did not wait to hear. I was already hurrying through the narrow passage, a plan half-formed in my mind as I retraced my steps through the castle. For the moment, I could do nothing for my father and the Master, but perhaps I could save my fellow apprentices from a cruel fate!

My breath was coming in panicked gasps by the time I reached the flimsy iron staircase that spiraled up to the roof. Knees shaking, I managed the steps as swiftly as I could, all the while knowing that time had me trapped on either side. It would not take the duke’s men long to assemble and ride out, meaning that I had to finish my preparations before they spilled past the castle gate. Neither could I forget that Tito knew I was here in the castle with him. Sooner or later, he would come looking for me… and if he discovered me too soon, all would truly be lost.

I eased open the door to the roof, mindful of the soldiers that I had earlier seen lining the parapets. I had to assume they were still there, keeping watch over Leonardo’s illusion of an army. Given that I wore my borrowed page’s tunic, I could claim to be delivering a message from one of Nicodemo’s other men should I be seen and questioned. But, for the moment, this portion of the walk appeared deserted.

As before, that first step out onto the roof sent me swaying. Taking a steadying breath, I started along the walkway in the direction where I had last seen the flying machine. Only then did it occur to me that perhaps the craft still lay in pieces. It had been but a handful of days since my father had vowed to finish building it so that he could make his escape by air and fly it away to Milan. If he had not yet completed his work, my plan was for naught, and I might as well surrender myself to the duke, then and there.

A heavy hand abruptly closed over my arm and cut short my musings, while the suddenness of the assault caused me to stumble alarmingly close to the parapets. The same hand jerked me upright again, and an angry red face pressed close to mine.

“What are you doing up here, boy?” the guard demanded, his breath faintly redolent of the cesspit. “Quick, speak, or I’ll toss you off the roof.”

“Please, I was sent with a message,” I cried in unfeigned fear as I struggled to regain my wits. When his grip on me loosened, I managed, “His Excellency has discovered that there is no army in the forest, only boys playing at being soldiers. The other men-at-arms are being sent on horseback to round them up. You-you are to go with them.”

I tossed out that last with the fervent prayer that such an order was breaking no soldier’s protocol. By this time, a second guard had been attracted by the commotion and joined his fellow in time to hear my last words.

My stomach lurched as the pair exchanged cruel grins, but to my relief their amusement was not directed at me.

“Pah, I thought there was something odd about it all,” the second man declared as his companion released my arm. “As for the other, it sounds like fine sport.”