A Bolt from the Blue

For I was moving too fast for him to catch me; moreover, the break in the parapets was but a few lengths ahead of me. In the space of a few more seconds, the flying machine would be airborne. And still I heard the cries as Tito continued his pursuit, seemingly heedless of what lay ahead beyond the castle’s edge.

Yet I could not worry about him anymore. All I could do was keep pedaling while praying that Leonardo’s grand design would prove to be no folly but a triumph of genius. Ahead of me was nothing other than sky, cloudless and far bluer than any I could ever recall seeing.

And then, abruptly, the ground dropped out from beneath me.

23

*

It shall seem to men that they see new destructions in the sky…

– Leonardo da Vinci, Codex Atlanticus

Iscreamed… not so much in terror as in sheer exhilaration. For, after that fi rst petrifying lurch as the wheels slipped off the castle’s edge, the craft swooped upward. I was flying! The Master’s invention worked!

One corner of my mind registered an echoing shriek of terror from somewhere behind me, the doleful cry cut short a heartbeat later. I dared not look back, but I knew to my great sorrow what that sound meant.

Tito.

Blinded by the thought of losing what he’d shed both blood and soul to gain, he had forgotten that the roofline ended. Or perhaps he hadn’t. Either way, he had followed after me and plunged to what most certainly would have been his death. I prayed that his uncle the duke would treat him far more kindly as a corpse than he had treated his nephew in life.

As for me, I had loved Tito as a friend. Despite the evil he had done, I could not help but mourn the youth that I had thought him to be. Later-if there was a later for me-I would ponder whether or not justice had been served in the end. For the moment, however, my concern was focused on keeping control of my craft.

I felt as if I were cradled upon some invisible cloud, so gently did the craft hover. Each movement of my feet made the great wings rise and dip down again in a rowing motion, so that the craft glided atop the breeze like a ship rolling upon the waves. Yet, press one pedal too hard, and the craft wobbled. Press it too softly, and the machine tilted at an alarming angle. I found, as well, that the hand controls allowed but the subtlest change in altitude or movement. In order to make a circle, I needed to adjust the splayed tail that served as rudder, using yet another control.

I clung with grim purpose to the hand levers, concentrating on keeping the flying machine level while I studied the formation of soldiers below me. From my vantage point, they looked like chess pieces neatly spread across a dark green board. I stared in fascination, feeling almost as if I could reach down and pluck them up, one by one, and move them where I chose. Already, they were almost halfway across the field, their armor and weapons glinting beneath the late-morning sun. Recalling myself to my purpose, I shook free of my fancies and cautiously guided the flying machine above the soldiers’ path.

The craft’s shadow spilled over the field like that of some giant mythical bird, throwing a dark stain over men and beasts. Had any of the soldiers noticed this anomaly, they likely dismissed it as a wayward cloud crossing the sun’s face. The horses, however, realized something was amiss… perhaps instinctively recalling an ancient time when predators swooped down upon their ancestors from out of the sky.

As my shadow touched them, the armored beasts shied and whinnied in fright, breaking formation as they sought escape from their perceived attacker. This was what I’d hoped to accomplish, I thought with a small surge of triumph. More confident in my abilities, I adjusted the craft’s rudderlike tail and circled over the troops again.

Fear exploded into panic as one terrified steed after another thrashed and bucked, trying to unseat their riders. The foot soldiers following behind broke ranks, as well, scrambling out of range of flailing hooves. Faced with this abrupt dissolution of his forces, the captain, struggling with his own frightened mount, raised an arm and with a shout called a halt to the charge.

It was at that moment that one of the mounted men, who had been unceremoniously thrown by his horse, stared up and saw the flying machine.

His cries and frantic gestures caught the attention of his fellow soldiers, who followed his gaze upward. A chorus of shouts punctuated with pointing fingers arose from the disarrayed troops. Some must have known of the flying machine’s existence, for I heard faint cries of, Leonardo, Leonardo. Others, perhaps more superstitious than the rest, must have attributed the sight to divine intervention, for they fell to their knees and raised their arms in supplication.