Page 49 of DATE
Lorenzo didn’t nod in agreement. Instead, he simply pointed to the door.
The young alchemist bowed again and left without another word.
As she bent down, her dark, curly hair cascaded down, making him suddenly think of the wind god Eurus from the poems.
After the assassination attempt in the church, Florence had drastically increased its security, with archers now on rotation even at the city's viewpoints.
In recent years, Lorenzo had spent lavishly, continually hosting extravagant parades and festivities, sponsoring dozens of painters and poets, and his reputation in the city had nearly reached its peak.
—What crisis was she referring to?
On a rational level, Lorenzo didn’t want to take her warning seriously.
But the seeds of doubt and hesitation had already been quietly sown.
Hedy had been under house arrest for more than a month, and now that she was finally free, she decided to find Leonardo da Vinci for a drink and some conversation.
From the Doge’s Palace, one could overlook the Piazza della Signoria and catch a glimpse of a replica of Michelangelo’s David.
The first floor housed a council hall capable of hosting more than five hundred people, where noble politicians often gathered to dance and feast.
The second and third floors were for family members to live and work, all lavishly decorated with gold and splendor.
Artists sponsored by the Medici family lived on the southern side of the first floor, free to come and go from the courtyard. Theyoften gathered there to drink and chat, occasionally entertained by maids dancing for them.
Hedy had memorized the various paths, avoiding the ladies and young women, and made her way to the courtyard to visit her former superior.
—Well, now he was her colleague.
Da Vinci wasn’t around, but Botticelli was in the courtyard painting, his palette exuding the air of wealth.
Hedy instantly recognized several colors—pink, blue, red, yellow, purple, and even violet.
As she took a few steps closer, she could indeed smell the pungent odor of urine, and instinctively, she stepped back a little.
“Miss Kiesler?” Botticelli looked up at the young woman who was trying to sneak away and waved his hand. “You’ve finally been let out?”
The moment Hedy saw him, she thought of the terrifying painting Da Vinci had mentioned, and she nodded.
“Want to come and bask in the sun? The weather’s quite nice today,” the blonde man said with a smile, still looking warm and approachable.
Hedy hesitated for a moment but then sat down beside him.
He was coloring a woodcut, and it seemed like he had only just begun the work.
The wooden board was covered with a clear draft, and the lines were numerous.
Half-naked young men and women were dancing in pleasure, and in the background, branches of peach trees intertwined. The women’s clothes were adorned with flowers, and a winged Cupid was drawing his bow to shoot arrows.
“What’s the name of this painting?”
“Primavera.”
?
Hedy vaguely remembered something, but the thought slipped away before she could grasp it. She instinctively asked, “Who are they?”
Botticelli adjusted the marks with his palette knife, then pointed to the man in the top right corner.
