Leonardo da Vinci: Renaissance Master Read Free Page A

nose.
    â€œHow old is this dog?” she said. “He smells ancient.”
    â€œOnly a hundred years old,” Maisie said.
    â€œVery funny, Maisie,” her mother said, shaking her head.

    Upstairs in The Treasure Chest, Felix waited for Great-Uncle Thorne to return. He couldn’t help but start to worry—about the Ziff twins and the Fabergé egg that had mysteriously reappeared and about Maisie. One thing Felix felt fairly certain about was that their parents were not going to get married again. At least not to each other. But he could see that Maisie was already imagining it, already planning on all of them being a family again.
    Felix picked up a magnifying glass and peered through it, enjoying how everything on the desk came into focus. The delicate marks on the quill pen on the desk. The smudges on a test tube. He rummaged through the objects, keeping the magnifying glass pressed against his eye.
    A small gold cylinder rolled out from beneath a dried corsage. Felix lowered the magnifying glass and picked up the cylinder. It was heavy but unremarkable. Except for the odd symbol on one end. Felix frowned, trying to determine what that symbol was. A coat of arms, maybe? The center almost looked like the design on one of his father’s ties, but there were definitely flowers on it, too. And a thin layer of dark red covered it. Paint? Or . . . Felix shivered . . . blood?
    Great-Uncle Thorne’s noisy return right then made Felix jump.
    â€œWhat’s that you’re examining?” Great-Uncle Thorne demanded.
    Felix held it up, squinting.
    â€œHmmm,” Great-Uncle Thorne said. “It’s a seal. You melt wax onto the back of an envelope and then press that into it. Leaves the mark of . . .”
    He leaned closer to see what was on the end.
    â€œAh! That’s the
giglio
. The emblem of Florence.”
    â€œWhat’s a
giglio
?” Felix asked him.
    â€œI’m sure even you’ve seen the fleur-de-lis on flags and coats of arms?”
    â€œFleur . . . what?”
    â€œPhilistines! You and that surly sister of yours!”
    Felix studied the symbol again. “Maybe I’ve seen something like it somewhere,” he said.
    â€œSomewhere?” Great-Uncle Thorne repeated, raising his arms and his eyes upward as if praying for help. “The fleur-de-lis has been the enduring symbol of France for centuries!”
    â€œMaybe that’s where—”
    â€œAnd the arms of the king of Spain!”
    â€œOh, maybe that’s where—”
    â€œAnd the grand duke of Luxembourg!”
    â€œWell, then, gee, sure,” Felix said.
    â€œBut
that
is the
giglio
, which distinguishes itself by showing a blossom, always red, comprised of three main petals and three thin stamens arranged symmetrically.”
    Felix smiled, relieved. If this seal was pressed into red wax, then that’s what he saw. Not blood, but the remnants of wax.
    â€œIn fact,” Great-Uncle Thorne was saying, “the floral symbol goes back to ancient times, to 59 BC, when Florence was founded around the time of the Roman celebration of spring and the white iris florentina was in full bloom. Why, the Romans even called the city Florentia, and held festivities there to honor the goddess Flora. If you’re ever lucky enough to visit Florence, you’ll see the
giglio
everywhere. On the Ponte Vecchio and the Duomo—”
    â€œI thought you said the gi . . . gig . . .”
    â€œ
Giglio
!” Great-Uncle Thorne boomed in exasperation.
    â€œRight,” Felix said. “I thought you said it was red.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œWell, you said the iris florentina was
white
.”
    To Felix’s surprise, Great-Uncle Thorne grinned at him. “You’re right! Good observation! The colors were inverted in 1266. The Guelphs took control of Florence and used a red lily on a white background on their