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In ten years, in twenty years, how outstanding and brilliant would these four masters become?
Luckily, the wise alchemist had remembered to bring a lunch basket downstairs. The sandwiches inside were quickly devoured, and even the water was consumed completely.
They began the work around eight in the morning, and by the time they were finished, it was already past Vespers.
When Hedy washed her hands, she scrubbed with extra soap to remove the lingering odors, then went upstairs to check on Raphael.
She really liked children.
In her previous life, she had first adopted a boy with her first husband, and then had a son and a daughter with her second husband.
As long as the child wasn’t like Sarai—stubborn and with a difficult temperament—she always had enough patience and love.
Even though the adopted child hadn’t been close to her and had even tried to harm her later, she was still able to understand and accept many things.
When Dechio saw Hedy, his expression was filled with concern.
"Raphael refuses to sleep," he explained. "He thinks you’re angry with him."
Hedy paused for a moment before quickly walking into the little boy’s bedroom.
The angelic boy was sitting at the head of the bed, holding his sketchbook.
"Lady," he said softly, "I finished drawing all the grapevines."
"You did very well," Hedy sat beside him and took the nearly filled sketchbook. "Oh—this is indeed excellent work."
The boy lowered his head, hesitated for a moment, and finally asked, "Why didn’t you want to take me downstairs?"
"Did I do something wrong?"
No, it’s because you’re too young. You’re not yet suited to see those bodies and entrails.
Hedy worried that he might have nightmares after seeing some decayed organs, so she had Dechio watch him the entire day to keep him from sneaking downstairs.
"No, my dear. Some things are meant to wait until you’re older," she said softly, letting him sleep in her arms. "We all love you so much."
"You respected our agreement today, so how about I give you a reward?"
As Da Vinci and Botticelli returned to the courtyard, they faintly heard her gentle, low voice telling a story.
They exchanged a glance and realized that Hedy was telling Raphael a bedtime story.
Michelangelo, clearly uninterested, was still absorbed in the vast amount of information he had learned that day. He shook his hands, still damp with water, and rushed back to his room to make notes and memorandums.
The other two men, however, moved closer to the window where a small light flickered, trying to listen to the entire story.
Hedy’s tale had nothing to do with the Bible or paganism.
The poor little mermaid came to the palace in search of true love, only to have her beautiful voice taken away. Each step she took felt like walking on a knife's edge.
The abused and humiliated Cinderella silently cleaned therooms and the fireplace, but thanks to the fairy godmother’s grace, she was given the most magnificent gown and danced with the prince all night at the ball.
Thumbelina wandered endlessly, almost marrying the blind mole, but in the end, she was taken to the kingdom of flowers and fairies.
The little boy snuggled in her arms, sleeping sweetly and contentedly.
Hedy gently blew out the lamp, placed him down carefully, and stepped out of the room.
