“Fear not, Dino. Pio is not trying to disturb you,” a reproachful voice spoke as I attempted to fend off the small beast’s enthusiastic licking of my face. “He just wants to know why you are angry at us. He wonders why you have been avoiding us for the past few days.”

I glanced up to see my friend and fellow apprentice Vittorio standing before me. Like me, he was dressed in the simple brown tunic over green trunk hose that designated him an apprentice painter in the workshop of the duke’s court artist. To enliven that simple garb, he had braided narrow leather strips into an elaborate belt from which he’d hung his purse. He reached into that small bag now and pulled forth a crumb of pungent cheese.

“I’ve not avoided you,” I protested while he waved the treat in Pio’s direction. “Did we not spend all of yesterday plastering a wall for fresco together? And the day before, I showed you how to tie the small weasel-hair brushes that the Master prefers for his oils.”

“But that is different,” the boy countered as Pio bounded from my lap and began an eager dance upon his hind legs. “All of the apprentices helped with the plastering, and you showed Philippe and Bernardo how to tie those brushes, too. But when I tried to seek you out after supper each of those days, you were nowhere to be found. And I am certain that this morning, before you ran off alone with your notebook, you pretended not to hear me calling you.”

The offended set to his mouth was a stark contrast to his habitual expression of mischievous glee and made him look older than his sixteen years. Even Pio’s clownish behavior for once did not bring a smile to his face. Instead, his glum expression as he laid forth his list of my perceived transgressions quite reflected my own unsettled mood.