A master cabinetmaker, Angelo della Fazia’s skill in wood rivaled Leonardo’s brilliance with paints. He had understood the artistic fervor that had driven me to steal away one night, leaving behind home and family in order to study my craft. And he also understood that, given my circumstances, I could not return home so long as I remained apprenticed to Leonardo.

Teasing the hound now with a long bit of grass, Vittorio confided, “I miss my father and sisters, too. But I am much relieved to know I have done naught to offend you. And I know you could never truly be cross with Pio, no matter what mischief he caused, for you love him as much as I do. So, if all is truly well, I shall leave you be.”

Contrary to his words, however, he remained seated next to me. Knowing there must be some other reason that the youth had sought me out, I prodded, “The day is already half gone. Why are you still here at the castle, rather than wandering about town with Constantin and Paolo, and the other apprentices?”

“The Master asked me to take charge of Pio for the day. I could not refuse, for Pio loves me best… after the Master, of course,” he finished with a smug lift of his chin.

I gave him an answering solemn nod.

“Of course,” I agreed, though my inner amusement at his self-important air was tempered by my recollection of how the small hound had ended up in the Master’s care.

The clownish Pio had once been the beloved pet of the same young contessa who was one of the victims that I mourned. Under her care, the little beast had spent his days sleeping upon soft cushions, eating rich treats, and wearing elaborate embroidered collars as befitted his noble position. More privileged than many at court, he’d even had his portrait painted by the great master Leonardo!