The Madonna of the Almonds Read Online Free PDF

for his work. ‘For this portrait will be different. It will be a showcase for my latest techniques. See how I have blended light and shadow in this wondrous chiaroscuro ? And here at her mouth, how my brush blurs the corners to make her expression ambiguous, in a manner I call sfumato ? Believe me, sir, your wife will be admired the world over, and in this service to her you are not only proving yourself a great patron and art lover but the greatest of husbands too.’
    That did it. For despite his family name, Francesco had no sense of humour but a great deal of pride. How better to heal any rumoured rift with his wife than to immortalize her in this portrait? He let his proffered hand drop to his side, bowed to Leonardo and left.
    Bernardino leaned his head against the wooden frame of the canvas with relief. He breathed in the sweet scents of oil and poplar, and below that something else…the sweet smell of sandalwood that his lady wore, and still deeper, the sharp spicy smell of her sex, so well remembered from yestereve. The remembrance sent a frisson to his groin and he was obliged to spend the next few moments counseling himselfagainst such folly – he had just escaped a skinning and must not let his lusts weaken him again. He must leave la Signora alone. His Master’s voice brought him to his senses. ‘You can come out now, Bernardino.’
    Bernardino sheepishly emerged, to laughter and scattered applause from his colleagues. He bowed to the collective with a theatrical flourish. Leonardo raised his brow again, as if caught on a fishhook. Bernardino bowed in earnest. ‘Thank you, Signore,’ he said. ‘May I return to work, if it pleases you?’
    ‘You may return to work, Bernardino. But not here.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You have enjoyed the eavesdropper’s fate of overhearing your destiny. I wish you to go to Venice and take this commission, for it was not a device which I invented to dispatch your rival, but a genuine request from the Doge.’ He pulled the letter from his sleeve once more and waved it at his pupil. ‘I think it best that you are out of the reaches of Signor Giacondo for a while.’
    ‘Venice?’
    ‘Indeed. His Eminence writes that he will pay three hundred ducats for a fresco to be painted in the church of the Frari. A Holy scene. The Virgin, angels, the usual kind of thing. I think, at last, you are ready.’
    ‘Figures? An entire scene? Not hands?’
    Leonardo gave a rare smile. ‘Figures, yes. But hands they should have certainly, else I don’t think the Doge will pay you.’
    Bernardino’s head was in a whirl. Venice. The Veneto. He knew little of the place save that it floated on water, and for this reason the women were leprous and the men had webbed feet. He was enjoying his time in Florence – it was the first time he had left his native Lombardy and was making the most of it. He had friends and…lovers here. He loved Florence. And yet – it would not be forever. A year or two might meet the case. And he was to be entrusted with full-figure work for the first time, instead of the forest of hands he had painted – interminable digits and knuckles – he hated the sight of them. And the money. He could make his fortune. And there would surely be some handsome women in that state too?
    He took the letter from his Master with thanks, and took his leave affectionately. Leonardo took Bernardino’s face in his hands and looked him long in the eyes. ‘Listen to me well, Bernardino. Do not be overwhelmed by the weight of your own genius, for you have none. You are a good painter and could be a great one, but not until you begin to feel . If you have pangs of sorrow at your removal from this lady, if your heart bleeds, so much the better. For your work will reflect the passions that you experience and only then will you place those emotions on the canvas. You have my blessing.’ Warmly the Master kissed the pupil on both cheeks. Bernardino then turned to the model, whose eyes