The sight of the clock tower there and its immense flanking turrets almost undid me, bringing a flood of memories both bitter and sweet of my time at Castle Sforza. While I had once been loath to gaze upon those towers, I all but wept at the knowledge that I would never see them again. My apprenticeship in Milan had been so short, and yet I had lived and loved and faced death more than enough for many lifetimes.
How could I return home to my small village, with no future before me but a single bleak room in my father or my brother’s house… or perhaps a loveless marriage, with never another chance to paint grand masterpieces as I’d always dreamed?
But, stubbornly, I managed to hold back my tears. Too soon, we arrived at the small but clean room that had been my mother’s abode for the past few days. I allowed myself a bit of grudging admiration for her, for she had made her way alone to Milan and without the protection of a boy’s disguise. Perhaps she and I were more alike than either of us had realized.
At my mother’s insistence, my first act was to strip off my boy’s garb and put on one of her gowns. My fingers fumbled a bit over the feminine ties and laces that I’d last grappled with several months earlier when I’d been disguised as Caterina’s maidservant. My mother welcomed the change with a tight smile, though she shook her head in despair over my cropped hair.
“Pah, we shall have to make do until it grows out again,” she exclaimed. “Ah, well, I shall simply tell our neighbors that you suffered a fever while you were traveling that required it be cut off.”
Later that night, after a meal far better than any I’d had for some time, I settled on a pallet in the corner of the room. It was strange, not hearing the snores of my fellow apprentices around, but my parents’ soft breathing. I waited until I was certain they were both asleep. Only then did I release the storm of tears that had built inside of me… tears for Constantin, and Tito, and myself. The pillow in which I buried my face muffled my sobs, so that no one else heard them, but my swollen eyes come morning could not be disguised.
Surprisingly, my mother made no comment. Instead, she had helped me dress my wounded leg and, once I was dressed, put her hand to restoring my cropped locks.
“Ah, such beautiful hair,” she murmured as she ran a comb through it as she had when I was a small girl. “Mine was never so thick and shiny. How you could have borne to cut it, I cannot understand, but we shall fi x it.”
When she had finished, my mother handed me a small mirror to survey her handiwork. I saw with a bit of pleasure that, despite my red eyes, I looked quite presentable. She had braided the short length with several ribbons and draped a small veil above the nape of my neck. While the lower portion of the veil fluttered loose, she’d tied the other two points beneath the small cap I wore so it appeared that the cloth covered a neatly coiled braid.
“Signor Luigi would be proud,” I muttered as I put the mirror aside, recalling the tailor’s painstaking restoration of my hair with borrowed locks that he had braided into my own as he’d created my maidservant disguise.
By that time, my father had returned from whatever errand he’d taken himself upon while my mother labored over me. His eyes brightened as he saw us standing side by side.
“Ah, Delfina, you look almost as beautiful as your mother,” he exclaimed, drawing a reluctant smile from his wife. Sobering, he asked, “Are you ready to return to the castle?”
Thankfully, my father insisted that my mother stay behind. “Let the girl make her farewells in peace,” he declared in the same stern voice he’d used on her in the workshop.
Throwing up her hands, Carmela had made no further protests, though from the stubborn set of her mouth, I feared my father might hear about this later.
We spoke little on the way… my father, likely because he did not know what to say, and I, because I feared another cloudburst of tears like the storm that had soaked my pillow the night before. In my lap, I held my apprentice’s brown tunic, neatly folded. Somehow, the thought of giving it up seemed the hardest task yet to come, and I clutched the familiar rough cloth as a child hugged a favored toy for comfort.
Our journey back to the castle was unbearably long and yet far too swift. When we finally reached the workshop, I found myself frozen to my seat. Seeing my hesitation, my father gave my hand a squeeze.
“I realize it will be difficult, facing your friends this way, but you will regret it if you do not see them one last time,” he urged in a kind voice. “And those that are your true friends will not care if you are a youth or a maid.”
Biting my lip, I nodded and let him help me from the cart. The workshop door was ajar to let in the warm breeze, and I could hear the apprentices’ familiar voices as they went about their tasks. Lightly, I stepped past the threshold and, still clutching my tunic, gazed at them fondly one final time.
Paolo was the first to notice my presence. The others quickly followed his gaze, and all chatter ceased as they stared in my direction, seeing me for the first time as I truly was. I stared back and in a small panic realized I could find no words, either. Indeed, I was prepared to turn and flee when Davide stepped forward, a smile upon his face.
“There you are, at last, and far prettier than I could have imagined,” he said with a gallant bow. “I am very pleased to meet you, signorina, but I confess that I shall miss our young friend Dino, whose place that you took.”
“I shall miss him, too,” I admitted, swiping away a tear. “And I shall miss all of you, as well. Pray tell me that you do not hate me for my deception. I wanted the chance to study with the Master, and I could not do so in my true guise.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he declared, his tone gracious as always. “You simply have proven that you will let nothing stop you from pursuing your life’s passion. It should not matter if you are Dino or Delfina, so long as you are talented with a brush. The other apprentices would do well to imitate you.”
“Wait; does that mean I have to dress as a girl?” Vittorio cried in mock alarm, rising from his seat at the workbench. “If so, I fear I will never be a great artist, after all.”
His jest drew laughter from the rest of them, dispelling the uncertain silence that had held them. One by one, they came to join Davide, until I was surrounded by a score of cheerful youths all speaking at once.
“You played your role well,” Tommaso exclaimed in admiration, drawing nods from Paolo and most of the others. “I confess I had no idea you were not a boy, no matter that your cot was next to mine.”
“Bah, I could have told you she was a girl,” Bernardo declared, gazing about with an important air.
Philippe promptly nudged him in the ribs. “Then why didn’t you?” he demanded with a grin as the others genially jeered.
The youth shot him a dark look. “Because no one ever asked, that’s why,” he replied and crossed his arms over his chest to emphasize his words.
While the others laughed, Vittorio stepped forward and gave me a shy smile. “I confess I did not guess, either, but I hope we can still be friends, no matter that you are a girl.”
“Of course, we can,” I replied, not caring that the tears were running freely down my cheeks. “And you may still call me Dino, if you wish.”
He grinned, but before he could answer, a hush fell over the workshop. As always, such a respectful silence meant that Leonardo had stepped into the room.
Slowly, I turned to meet his warm gaze, feeling suddenly shy to be standing before him as my true self. He gave me an approving smile before turning his attention to the apprentices.
“It is good to hear all of you laughing again, after the sorrow that has held us the past days. But now, I fear there is work still to be done on the duke’s fresco, so you must make your farewells to your dear friend and be off.”