Page 16 of DATE
Now, in this era, it felt like she was working as an assistant to Lorenzo's helpers, spending all day with Da Vinci in the small church.
Every morning before dawn, the two would walk through the mist in Piazza della Signoria, bypassing the Florence Cathedral, greeting familiar faces, and heading to the Palazzo Vecchio.
At this time, Hedy was usually still half-asleep, quickly packing some bread and jam to bring along, occasionally remembering to fill a glass bottle with orange juice.
The Palazzo Vecchio was now a town hall, where the wealthy and guild leaders gathered daily for elections.
Though Hedy was still unclear about many of the customs here, she was enjoying her time.
After all, most of the time, Leonardo wasn't up on the ladder.
He could spend hours looking at a wall, sketching drafts, erasing, and pondering deeply.
Meanwhile, she would leave the bread and water, sneaking off to see the daily performances and festivities in the city.
There were speakers and preachers giving passionate speeches in the streets, and musicians playing the wind pipes and the lyre, with dancers performing nearby.
The open-air theaters were always packed, with actors not only wearing realistic costumes but also performing stunts while being hoisted high into the air.
The stories performed were often epic tales or myths, and occasionally, a story from the Bible would be reenacted.
Hedy watched the performances with great focus, sometimes even imagining herself joining in.
After all, she was a professional.
She had heard that during Lent, the parades were especially lively, with hundreds of hounds, many falcons, horn players, and poets marching together. Thousands of soldiers and fine horses would form a long procession, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Da Vinci would sometimes go out for a stroll, perhaps to the apothecary to get more paint.
Hedy noticed that he seemed to have good relationships with most people.
Whether it was due to his upbringing or something else, Leonardo was always quite kind to strangers.
He had a habit of consciously adjusting his posture when walking, trying his best to be polite and pleasant when speaking, even though he wasn’t a nobleman. His manners were always measured.
Except, of course, with one person.
One day, as they were carrying their basket on the way to the Palazzo Vecchio, they spotted a man in the distance with light golden curly hair.
He looked handsome and tall, with a smile on his face.
"Leonardo—"
Before Hedy could recognize who it was, Da Vinci immediately stiffened, turned, and briskly led her in the other direction.
"Wait, wait..." Hedy couldn’t keep up. "Don’t walk so fast."
But before they had walked far, the man with the curly hair had already caught up with them.
"Leonardo, are you heading to the Palazzo Vecchio?" He smiled, and his soft curls shimmered with a golden hue in the sunlight.
Before Da Vinci could respond, the man’s gaze landed on Hedy, and he grinned. "Did you bring the goddess Aglaea with you? When did Florence have such a beautiful young lady?"
Hedy, accustomed to compliments, curiously asked, "Who are you?"
The young man shrugged. "They all call me ‘Botticelli’ (which means 'small barrel' in Italian)."
"Small barrel?" Hedy couldn’t help but laugh. "I’ve never seen a ‘small barrel’ quite as slender as you."
