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Da Vinci leaned out again and plucked a leaf from an olive tree for her.
Atalante furrowed her brows, trying to figure out the trick to playing the leaves.
Hedy thought the task was probably as easy as whistling, so she mimicked him by holding the leaf with her hands and attempted to produce a series of interrupted sounds.
It took her a little longer to find the trick, but soon, with small adjustments of her tongue and fingers, she was playing the cheerful tune of Take Me Home, Country Roads.
The song, born in 1971, had a country flavor that was both classic and fitting for the moment.
Da Vinci tilted his head, listening to her rendition, and instinctively began to hum along.
The young man scowled and tried to blow out a couple of notes, but soon gave up, chewing on the leaf and spitting it out in frustration.
The journey lasted ten days, as leisurely as if they were attending a camping trip.
Da Vinci talked about the Jewish infant born on Good Friday this year, along with various other trivial mattersfrom neighboring countries—like how Spain had a very young Secretary-General of the Papal Court, born into nobility at only eight or nine years old, and how the young daughter of the Duke of Ferrara had an impressive artistic sense, even inviting Botticelli to paint her portrait.
It was then that Hedy suddenly remembered her old friend who had left without a word.
Last Christmas, he had joined the master Perugino and traveled to Rome, both invited to work on the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel—a supreme honor, and arguably one of the highest recognitions for artists of this age.
When Botticelli returned and found that both of his friends had already left, he must have felt a bit disappointed.
"But..." Hedy turned to Da Vinci. "Do you still plan to paint?"
When she had worked as a maid, she had once tried to push the art history textbooks to include more vivid details. Now, that seemed quite impractical—this gentleman’s interest in painting was hard to gauge. It was said that he and his assistants spent an entire morning sorting through various engineering and mechanical drawings.
"Paint..." Da Vinci hesitated, then quietly admitted, "I will, but first I need to help solve the problem with the dome of the Milan Cathedral."
"I knew it," Hedy thought to herself.
They had bought a courtyard in Milan and hired a gatekeeper and maid. The courtyard was not far from the Milan Cathedral, and just five minutes' walk away was a bustling trade district.
Due to their somewhat difficult-to-explain status, after discussing it, Hedy and Da Vinci decided to present her as a noblewoman from the Medici family on vacation and traveling, with him as her hired artist, just like Dechio, one of her servants.
Their roles had indeed been reversed.
The courtyard was neither too large nor too small, with space for some hyacinths and fig trees. There was also a white dog that had been brought along to guard the place.
Hedy went out to buy some ducks and hens, and together with Da Vinci, they built two small nests in a corner.
Her thoughts on dog kennels were stuck in the images from Tom and Jerry, so when it came to making adjustments, she crafted a little wooden house.
As this beautiful woman hammered and worked, Da Vinci watched, puzzled but unable to stop himself from smiling.
She seemed to be able to do anything, and do it well.
When Hedy had fixed her broken door latch back then, she had no trouble cutting wood and hammering nails, handling everything so efficiently that Da Vinci could only stand by and pass her tools.
Though he wasn't sure why the dog needed such a small house, the little white dog wagged its tail, seemingly quite pleased with the new place.
And so, a fresh chapter of life began—one that was more organized and peaceful than before.
Milan, now, was a land untouched by war. People celebrated and partied through the nights, while schools and theaters sprang up like mushrooms after the rain. Despite the pressure from the ruling powers, there was an undeniable sense of joy in the air every day.
Hedy had made herself a calendar and would mark off the days with a cross every now and then. It was already May of 1483—how unbelievable.
She looked up and saw the ducks waddling by outside the window, shaking their tails. She couldn’t help but smile.
