The head was violent and crude. His face portrayed arrogance and shock, even in his death as the woman triumphantly let it dangle in the air above her. Her arms were toned yet sinewy and the curves of her breasts were fully distinguished. The knife by which she committed the deed hung lazily at her side.
“Her face is brutish,” the bold old man with the long nose said, “she should be beautiful yet strong, much like this city of ours.”
“Si signore,” Messer Lucardi replied, “I plan on chiseling out her brow and softening her cheeks. She is to have the feminine glow, but will also have the power behind her eyes of one that is a true virago.”
The man nodded in agreement. “Good.” He turned towards Reggiano and Giancarlo, both of whom were caked in marble dust. Messer Pitti’s stare was unsettling to Giancarlo, but he took solace in the idea that it would soon no longer matter what this man thought of him. “And these two, do they do most of the work?”
“No signore, a responsibility such as this falls on
“Very well,” the old man started to walk towards the door. “I find this progress adequate. Our current contract stands. In addition, I will give you an extra twenty florins if you engrave the insignia of the Pitti family into the hilt of Judith’s dagger.”
The entire bottega released a deep sigh of relief and the mood instantly grew brighter. “Si signore, bene, I assure you it will be done.” Messer Lucardi reassured. “Grazie, signore,
As Messer Pitti walked towards the door, he passed by Federico and his painting of the Virgin Mary. “Young sir,” he said, standing behind Federico, “what is it you are working on?”
“The Annunciation unto the Virgin Mary,” Federico said nervously. “It is almost complete Signore.” A flood of excitement filled Federico. Maybe this would be the day that he
Messer Pitti stared at the painting intently. After a few moments, he finally pulled back. “Well child, don’t give up.” Federico scowled as Messer Pitti burst out laughing. He looked around and saw the gaggle of young boys looking at him with a mixture of nervousness and confusion. He stopped laughing, annoyed that no one else thought that was amusing.
“Very well then,” he solemnly said before exiting the bottega.
Messer Pitti’s words of affirmation did not cause Messer Lucardi and his apprentices to celebrate and take the remainder of the day off, as some such as Niccolò hoped. Instead, Messer Lucardi was determined to work his apprentices vigorously. “We have done our job,” he lectured, “there is no cause to celebrate something we were paid to do in the first place.”
“Then how come I am not receiving any wages,” Reggiano muttered under his breath.
Shortly after Messer Pitti departed, a tall thin man walked into the bottega.
“Buongiorno, Signore,” Messer Lucardi said, moving from behind the statue to greet him. “Welcome to my bottega. I am Orsino Lucardi, can I be of any assistance?”
“Ah, mi dispiache,” the man replied dejectedly, “I have the wrong building. I was told that this was the bottega of Antonio Piancardi.”
Antonio looked up in surprise and confusion as Messer Lucardi glowered at him. “That is me signore,” He meekly said.
The man’s eyes flared with excitement. “As, so you’re Antonio?”
“Si.”
“Then I believe that this is yours.” He walked towards Antonio, handing him a small notebook.
Antonio looked at the notebook, skimming through the pages. “Where did you find this? I lost this the other day.”
“It was on the ground in the Piazza di Santa Croche. It seems that it has been trampled on a bit, but that did not damage any of the work inside.”
Antonio could do nothing but blush.
“I showed it to my patron and he is, well, extremely impressed by your potential, to say the least. Is this what you are working on right now? Yes, Leda and the Swan, very elegant, very…sensual.” There was a brief pause. “My patron would like to meet with you, and if all goes well, he might like to request a commission from you. Judging from the art we have seen from you so far, I am sure it will be a lively conversation.”
“And who is your patron, good sir?” Messer Lucardi asked eagerly.
The tall man merely glanced at Orsino and turned back to Antonio. “Messer Leonardo de Medici, il Magnifico.”
There was a collective gasp from the boys in the bottega. All of them were stricken with disbelief, Antonio most of all. He was in complete shock, unable to utter a single word.
“What is your response?” The tall man asked, amused at the disbelief on Antonio’s face. Antonio could only nod in agreement. “Very well,” the man smirked. Be in front of the Palazzo Medici tomorrow at noon. Do not forget your notebook this time.” The man then walked out, refusing to acknowledge anyone else in the bottega.
There were cheers of applause as the boys congratulated Antonio on his opportunity. To receive a commission from Lorenzo di Medici was what every aspiring artist dreamt of.
Giancarlo stood in awe. “Congratulations Antonio,” he said warmly, “I am proud of you.” Antonio merely blushed. Neither had dared look at each other, let alone speak to each other since the events that transpired last night, but news of this magnitude allowed a brief thawing of their relationship. Perhaps it was because he was leaving tonight, or perhaps it was because he knew he would never stop caring about him, but he felt genuine happiness for Antonio.
Header Image: The Creation of Adam, Michaelangelo. 1512