To the Most Excellent Lord of Milan, Ludovico Sforza
From your most humble servant, Leonardo da Vinci, in Florence
Most Illustrious Lord,
Having sufficiently seen and considered the achievements of all those who count themselves masters and artificers of instruments of war, and having noted that the invention and performance of the said instruments is in no way different from that in common usage, I shall endeavor, while intending no discredit to anyone else, to explain myself to Your Excellency, showing Your Lordship my secrets, and then offering them to your complete disposal, and when the time is right, bringing into effective operation all those things which you might desire.
In part, these shall be noted below . . .
1. I have plans for light, strong, and easily portable bridges with which to pursue and, on some occasions, flee the enemy; and others, sturdy and indestructible either by fire or in battle, easy and convenient to lift and place in position. Also means of burning and destroying those of the enemy.
2. I know how, in the course of a siege, to remove water from the moats and how to make an endless variety of bridges, covered ways and scaling ladders, and other machines necessary to such expeditions.
3. If, by reason of the height of the banks, or the strength of the place and its position, it is impossible, when besieging a place, to avail oneself of the plan of bombardment, I have methods for destroying every rock or other fortress, even if it were founded on a promontory, and so forth . . .
4. I have also types of cannon, most convenient and easily portable; and with these I can fling small stones almost like a hailstorm; and the smoke from the cannon will instill a great terror in the enemy, to his great detriment and confusion.
5. And if the fight should be at sea I have many machines most efficient for offense and defense; and vessels which will resist the attack of the largest guns and powder and fumes.
6. Also, I have means of arriving at a designated spot through mines and secret winding passages constructed completely without noise, even if it should be necessary to pass underneath a moat or river.
7. Also, I will make covered chariots, safe and unassailable, which will penetrate the enemy and their artillery, and there is no host of armed men so great that they would not break through it. And behind these, the infantry will be able to follow, quite uninjured and unimpeded.
8. Also, should the need arise, my lord, I will make cannon, mortar, and light ordnance of very beautiful and functional design that are quite out of the ordinary.
9. Where the use of cannon is impracticable, I will assemble catapults, mangonels, trebuchets, and other instruments of marvelous efficiency not in common use. In short, as the variety of circumstances dictate, I can contrive an endless number of items for attack and defense.
10. In times of peace I believe I can give as complete satisfaction as any other in the field of architecture, and the construction of both public and private buildings, and in conducting water from one place to another.
11. Moreover, work could be undertaken on the bronze horse, which will be to the immortal glory and eternal honor of the auspicious memory of His Lordship your father, and of the illustrious House of Sforza.
12. Also I can execute sculpture in marble, bronze, and clay. Likewise in painting, I can do everything possible as well as any other, whosoever he may be.
And if any of the abovementioned things seem impossible or impracticable to anyone, I am most readily disposed to demonstrate them in your park or in whatsoever place shall please Your Excellency, to whom I commend myself with all possible humility.
16
Cecilia
Milan, Italy
June 1490
CECILIA OPENED THE SONNET WITH A CONFIDENT BURST of air from her lungs. Just as her new singing tutor had shown her, she pushed all the air from low in the pit of her stomach.
Così del tuo favore ho qui bisogno . . .
She held the last note, setting her gaze on the broad window and to the vista beyond. The scent of summer was so thick in the air that it was nearly sickening, like the odor of flower stems that have been left to turn to slime in a vase. Above the sill, a bumblebee looped in drunken spirals, gorging itself on the red flowers spilling over the edge.
Even though there were only a handful of people in the room during this practice, Cecilia endeavored to sing as if the audience hall were full of courtiers. She took a deep breath, listened for the cue on the harp, and found her way to the next line.
Però mostra a Mercurio, o Anfione,
Che mi ’nsegni narrare un novo sogno . . .
She had improved, Cecilia thought. She wished that her brother were here, that he had not been dispatched on one of His Lordship’s missions far afield from Milan. She knew that Fazio would be proud of her, would heap praises on her new talents that were being developed under the tutelage of Ludovico il Moro’s court poet and musicians. And, if she were truthful with herself, she knew that Fazio’s presence would give her the courage she needed right now, practicing and preparing herself to sing before Ludovico, his court, and a room full of strangers.
Cecilia’s gaze rested instead on the court poet, Bernardo Bellincioni, a gray-haired man seated behind Marco at his harp. Bernardo’s eyes were bright and earnest, and Cecilia saw that his lips moved almost imperceptibly, mouthing the words of the song. He could not stop himself. He had written the words to this sonnet, and many others, himself. She hesitated, but Bernardo urged her with a small gesture. “Continue, cara.”
With Bernardo, Cecilia had spent hours delving into poetry, music, literature. In spite of the fact that Bernardo was old enough to be her grandfather, he was the closest thing to a friend that Cecilia had found in the ducal court. Together, Cecilia and Bernardo had composed a few bits of verse and song, the expert pleasantly surprised by Cecilia’s talent, and Cecilia enthralled by the beauty of his words and his practiced skill of arranging them together with little more than a fast scribble of his quill.
“Now stop,” instructed Bernardo, and Cecilia watched him scratch out a few lines on his parchment, whispering to himself as he adjusted words and rhymes as he went. “Give me a few moments,” he said.
Cecilia moved away from her page of music and to the window to breathe the heavy, flower-scented air. At the window sat Lucrezia Crivelli. Cecilia imagined that Ludovico, if he thought of such things, figured that Lucrezia might be a friend for Cecilia, but the girl was not interested in any of the things that Cecilia loved. She did not give the first thought to music, poetry, or myth. She seemed only to care about the clothing and manners of the court. When she wasn’t busy torturing Cecilia with the latest beauty treatment pulled from a book of women’s secrets, Lucrezia spent hours fanning herself by the windowsill or idly pulling a colored thread through her embroidery.
But Cecilia had no interest in spending her days as an idle courtier. She wanted more. She wanted not only to surround herself with talented musicians, poets, and writers like Bernardo; she wanted to be one, too. If she could prove her real worth to Ludovico il Moro and his court, then she wouldn’t be just another new plaything who shone brightly for a season, then just as quickly lost her luster. If she could demonstrate her literary and musical skills enough to entertain and delight Ludovico’s guests, then surely he would see the advantages of keeping her at his side for many years to come.
“His Lordship doesn’t care for the harp,” Lucrezia whispered, barely loud enough for Cecilia to hear, but out of earshot of Marco, the court musician.