Page 159 of DATE
Three people for only twenty gold coins?!
When she first arrived, her monthly salary at Leonardo's workshop was sixty soldi, which was roughly half a gold coin. At that time, she was living very carefully, uncertain if her basic needs would even be met.
But later, when she moved to the Doge's Palace, her salary immediately jumped to five or six gold coins per month, which was twelve times higher. And with her various accomplishments, the lord would occasionally reward her with generous gold coins. Her assets had now reached nearly four hundred coins.
By this amount, one painting by Botticelli could be exchanged for more than a hundred gold coins. To support just one artist was equivalent to supporting how many mercenaries…
"Originally, they were quite expensive, but once the Black Death passed, those farm women just multiplied like rats, and people became less valuable," the merchant said, taking a large sip of wine and swirling the glass. "Would you like some beer too? The taste is really exquisite!"
After the dinner ended, Hedy spent the entire ride back to the castle in the carriage, constantly calculating exchange rates andprices.
Copper coins, silver coins, and other such currencies were indeed cumbersome to work with, but if she could adjust the way mercenaries were hired and sign more comprehensive contracts with them, maybe...
Before the carriage even came to a complete stop, Dechio appeared nearby, raising his hand high to signal the coachman to stop. "My lady—"
Please don't tell me we're going to war again.
Hedy took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst. "What is it this time?"
"The youngest son of the Rucellai family—the lord’s nephew—he's running a high fever and seems to have been possessed by some kind of demon!" Dechio quickly climbed onto the carriage's step, gesturing for the coachman to turn the carriage around and head in another direction, speaking rapidly as he explained, "This just happened not long ago, and the lord has already left to take action."
"Demon?" Hedy frowned. "Why would you say that?"
"Not only does he have a fever, but he's also developed a rash," Dechio said, as if it took him a lot of courage to continue, "—and he has a demonic-like tongue!"
What?
The carriage soon stopped in front of the Rucellai palace. Hedy quickly grabbed her small bag, lifted her skirt, and hurried through the courtyard and long corridors. With the help of the servants, she made her way to the third-floor bedroom.
Many people had already gathered there. The child's mother, Nannina, Lorenzo's sister, was kneeling by the bed, crying uncontrollably. The maids were frantically trying to help, and a smelling salts bottle had even been knocked to the floor.
As soon as Hedy appeared, the people instinctively parted to make way for her to approach the child.
Out of caution, she donned a mask and gloves, signaling one of the maids to show her the condition of the child.
Young Giovanni’s breathing was weak, and he looked quite distressed and pitiful—his high fever was evident, his body covered in dense rashes, and his face around his mouth and nose was unnervingly pale.
Even though some servants were holding down his limbs, he was still struggling, as though truly possessed by a demon.
"Please, you must save this child!" Mr. Rucellai was beside himself, even looking to Lorenzo as if pleading for him to say something. "He—none of us dare let the priest come and check to see if he's really possessed."
Before he could finish his sentence, another elderly woman skillfully pried the child’s mouth open, showing Hedy the strange tongue.
There was no white coating on it; the surface of the tongue was smooth and swollen, exhibiting an eerie, flesh-like red color.
This was definitely not a characteristic of a normal person.
Hedy quickly made her judgment.
This was scarlet fever.
Before she left that world, the son of the director of the American Telephone and Telegraph Company was already over sixty years old, and the image of a child seemed quite distant.
But she vividly remembered caring for that child late at night, in the dim light of the studio, as he suffered from a similar fever.
"This is not possession," she said, lifting an oil lamp to examine the child’s skin and lowering her voice. "This is an infectious disease."
The room was likely filled with pathogens, and it would be best to move the child to a better-ventilated and disinfected place.
