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She blew a whistle, and soon, a light brown steed came galloping from the stables.
“This is the fastest horse in our legion, and it’s half a warrior,” she said, handing him the reins and then unbuckling her sword. “This is the best sword. I spent a whole bag of gold coins to get it from the black market. If it gets dull, you’ll have to replace it.”
Niccolo, with an expression of concern, watched as Leonardo mounted the horse. He suddenly spoke up, “Do you really know she’s in Rome?”
He was worried that Leonardo was acting out of desperation.
The person who took her had hidden their tracks well. There were no footprints outside the window or on the ground, as if the place had been haunted.
If things were even worse, the lord might have already been assassinated, and now the body was likely sunk into the Tyrrhenian Sea.
With no traces to follow, relying only on instinct to find her...
“I know,” Leonardo said, throwing his old sword to Luris, his voice cold. “Until I return, no one is to speak of this matter—just say the lord is ill and needs rest.”
While they were searching, they only mentioned the general’s missing private belongings, without uttering a word about her.
“We’ll be here,” Atalante sighed deeply. “Don’t worry.”
For more than twenty days, Leonardo led his troops south, crossing swamps and rivers, his heart tormented as if being burned by fierce flames.
Almost every night, he couldn’t sleep, and every time he managed to doze off, he would dream of her.
Leonardo had never been apart from her for such a long time.
Even that one time when she had hurried back to Florence overnight, they were only separated for half a month.
Just half a month, and he had been anxious and restless, as if half of his soul was lost.
But the distance between Genoa and Rome was so great, and the journey, with day and night turning into one, tortured his nerves with every passing second.
Who would take her in the dead of night?
Were they trying to kill her, or was something even more malicious at play?
Was she still alive? Was her body okay?
His chaotic thoughts rose like bubbles, one after another. Even the soldiers who usually joked and chatted with him dared not utter a word.
On the way back from Genoa to the north of Pisa, just as they were about to enter the city gates, Leonardo suddenly saw a few men gathered around something. Some even threw their pants aside.
No—this couldn’t be—
The horses neighed loudly, and he drew his sword, scaring the ruffians into running away, their belts in hand.
A small boy was crouched on the ground, half his clothes torn off, but he was clutching something tightly in his hand, unwilling to let go.
“Don’t be afraid…” Leonardo dismounted, gesturing for his attendant to throw him a robe, then crouched down to comfort the child. “We won’t hurt you… Child, are you alright?”
The boy suddenly began to cry, clearly terrified, trembling all over.
If it hadn’t been for the officers’ arrival, he might have died right there.
When the boy cried, Leonardo noticed that something was pressed under his tongue, and he almost choked on it as he sobbed.
“What happened to you...” Leonardo originally didn’t have the energy to deal with such trivial matters, but this child had so many fresh and old wounds, all intertwined in a way that seemed strange. “Child, what’s your name?”
“Sodomy... They all call me Sodomy...” The little boy sobbed, wearing his clothes, and even though his speech was unclear, he insisted on keeping something in his mouth, as if afraid someone would take it from him.
