The Madonna of the Almonds Read Online Free PDF Page A

assistance of Florentine law afforded to one of its wealthier merchant citizens. The wronged husband halted before Leonardo, and that he moderated his tones only slightly marked his contempt for artists and all their kind.
    ‘Forgive the intrusion, Signor da Vinci,’ began Francesco in a manner which assumed the pardon already granted. ‘I seek your pupil Bernardino Luini, who has done me a great wrong.’ Bernardino saw his eyes slide over to regard his wife, where she sat motionless on her chair. Francesco reminded him of his grandmother’s cat – sleek, fat and dangerous.
    Signor da Vinci deliberately painted a few more strokesand then laid his brushes aside. He turned to face Francesco, but before he had composed his features Bernardino caught the twinkle of his eye. The Master meant to enjoy himself. ‘I am puzzled, Signor del Giocondo,’ he said. ‘My pupil is a man of three and twenty, a student in the art of painting. What harm can he have inflicted on a merchant as great as yourself?’
    Francesco looked a little put out. Bernardino smiled. He knew, as da Vinci knew, that Francesco would never admit to having been cuckolded by a lowly artisan such as he. He knew also that Leonardo would only take so much interest in the affair so far as it affected his work – if del Giocondo decided to take his wife away, and the portrait could not be finished, then the Master would be seriously displeased. Therefore he would protect his model’s reputation, and by association, that of his wayward pupil too.
    Francesco shifted his considerable weight and answered the question. ‘’Tis a private matter. One of…business.’
    Da Vinci coughed delicately. ‘Well, Signor, I am desolate that I am unable to help you conclude your… business ,’ here the brow arched again, ‘but I am afraid that Signor Luini is no longer here. I received a commission from his Eminence the Doge of Venice, and Bernardino has just lately gone to that state to begin the work.’
    Francesco’s eyes narrowed in disbelief, till da Vinci produced a letter from the sleeve of his gown. ‘You know, perhaps, the cognizance of the Doge?’
    Francesco took the proffered letter and examined the seal closely. He gruffly acknowledged the arms and made as if to open the missive until Leonardo snatched it back. ‘You will forgive me, Signore,’ he said dryly, ‘but my matters, too, are private .’
    Francesco could do little more. He attempted to regain countenance by saying, ‘Well, as long as he is gone from my sight; for should I see him on the streets of Florence again, I will challenge him and he will die.’
    Bernardino rolled his eyes unseen. For the love of Jesu, this was 1503! Three years into the new century and the man spoke as a lover from the antique days of the medieval courts! He fixed his eye on his rival and saw him extend a hand to his wife where she sat on the dais. ‘Come, madam.’
    Bernardino saw his Master stiffen.
    ‘I pray you, madam, remain still.’ Leonardo turned to Francesco. ‘Surely, Signore, there can be no cause to remove your wife from this place? Now that the man who has offended you has gone, there can be no evil influence? Your wife has no fault in this affair , surely?’
    This last Francesco could not publicly deny. He seemed to waver, so da Vinci turned to flattery. ‘Consider, Signore, what this portrait will do for your reputation as a patron, a lover of the visual arts?’
    In point of fact, Francesco had no love for the visual arts, nor understanding of the same; but he knew that Florence’s reputation stood well amid the city states on its art and architecture,and he felt all the importance of being a part of this. But he seemed to resist. ‘’Tis only a portrait,’ he said. ‘Not one of your great battles, or a scene from scripture or some such. None shall see it but our family circle, where it hangs in my palazzo.’
    ‘Nay, Signore, you are mistaken.’ Leonardo became animated by his passion