A Bolt From the Blue Read Free Page B

as your tongue?”
    He gave me a quizzical look. Before he had time to question my meaning aloud, however, I flashed him a grin and took off at a run.

2

    The earth is moved from its position by the weight of a tiny bird resting upon it.
    —Leonardo da Vinci, Codex Arundel
     
     
     
     
     
    A n instant later, I heard a shout and a bark behind me; then Vittorio and Pio came rushing past, their long legs readily putting distance between them and me as we headed toward the workshop. I grinned more broadly and slowed my pace, letting them take the lead. The corset I secretly wore beneath my tunic, tightly tied to flatten my female attributes, also held my lungs in check and made running for more than a short distance difficult.
    Thus, I found myself the subject of Vittorio’s good-natured taunting when I finally caught up with him and the panting hound not far from Leonardo’s quarters.
    “Ha, you run slow as a girl,” the youth declared as I joined him. He strutted about in triumph while Pio was content to flop on his side in the grass, pink tongue lolling. “All your moping has made you grow weak. Look at you, Dino. Once you were taller than me, but I have outstripped you in height as well as speed!”
    Standing there beside him, I realized he spoke the truth. He was a good head taller than me and might soon be as tall as the Master. And how had I not realized before now that his once-smooth chin was covered in blond stubble grown in a fair imitation of Leonardo’s neat dark beard? Even his voice had lost its childish timbre and had deepened.
    For Vittorio was no longer a boy but was almost a man, I realized in chagrin. And surely such was the case with most of the other apprentices with whom I had begun my studies more than a year ago. So caught up had I been in my own sorrows these past months that I had paid scant attention to my fellows, had missed the way they were rapidly taking on adult bearings. And as more time passed, they must notice that I, alone of their number, remained small and smooth-cheeked, voice never growing deeper and form never broadening.
    But even if they remained oblivious to such differences, surely the Master, with his keen eye for the human body, would become suspicious when one of his boys never grew to be a man.
    To cover my dismay, I assumed an offended air. “You may be faster and taller, Vittorio, but I am still your senior in age. You should show respect to me.”
    “I respect the fact that you are far slower than me,” he replied with a grin, his humor dimmed not at all by my censure.
    Giving a light tug to the small hound’s lead, he went on. “Pio and I are off to find more pleasant company. But I overheard Constantin and Tito making plans to wander the marketplace and look for likely subjects to depict the apostles in the Master’s next fresco. Why don’t you go along with them?”
    “Perhaps I will, when I finish this last sketch,” I agreed with a careless shrug, though I knew full well I would do no such thing. “Now go, and be sure to tell me later how you fared with Novella.”
    I gave Pio a final scratch behind the ears and waved away the pair of them. Boy—or, rather, young man—and hound trotted eagerly in the direction of the castle gates. I waited until Vittorio and his charge were halfway across the grassy quadrangle that stretched between the main castle and its battlement-topped walls. Then, after making certain I was alone, I settled upon the rough bench outside the workshop and let my notebook slip to the seat beside me.
    My small moment of pleasure had already faded, replaced by the familiar cloak of sorrow. Certainly, the day itself could not be blamed for my unsettled humor. The cloudless sky above provided a cheery blue backdrop for small flocks of birds making their annual return to their native fields. The castle’s neatly regimented trees and gardens were in the midst of their own resurgence, tender leaves and blossoms budding with grand