Free Leonardo's Swans by Karen Essex Page B

imagination, and painting, if it be done upon copper in enamel colors, can be made far more enduring.
We painters are the grandsons of God, the grandchildren of Nature. For all visible things derive their existence from Nature, and from these same things is born painting. So therefore we may justly speak of it as the grandchild of Nature and as related to God himself.

    The next night, Beatrice lay in bed, head spinning from wine and dancing. She had not consumed so much wine since she was a child, thieving it with her gaggle of playmates at Naples as the adults passed out, and drinking it until they vomited all over the nursery. As the hands of her ladies had dressed her for the first night in her marriage bed, she had prayed that she would not give a repeat performance of her childish pranks for her husband.
    With perfumed kisses and knowing smiles, the women had laid her upon the most sumptuous bed she had ever seen—so soft that when her small body sank into it, she wondered if she would drown in its feathers before Ludovico made his appearance. Lions and serpents carved into the canopy above stared at her, and to take away her fear, she stuck her tongue out at them, giggling. The reds and golds of the brocade fabrics draping the bed began to run together, making her dizzy, and she closed her eyes. Nestling deeper into the bed, she ran her hands up and down the white silk nightgown, feeling the small mounds of her breasts and the strength of her stomach muscles. The cold fabric titillated her skin, giving her gooseflesh.
    The marriage ceremony, she reflected, had come off spectacularly well. Most of the decorous lords and ladies who had come to Pavia to welcome her had returned to Milan, where the celebrations were to take place in the Castello. But Ludovico’s intimates, as well as representatives of the Houses of Este and Gonzaga, had remained for the ceremony in the Visconti Chapel within the Castello di Pavia. Upon entering the chapel, she was greeted with a whirlwind of faces, almost none of which she recognized in her nervous state. Niccolò da Correggio was present, happy to take advantage of Francesco’s absence so that he might have Isabella all to himself, though, since every man sought it, no man ever had her sole attention. Galeazz di Sanseverino had appeared with four of his brothers, who all had gleaming smiles despite their martial appearance, and were no less dashing than he. Other faces she could not associate with names, at least not at this moment.
    Isabella and Leonora each took her by an elbow to lead her to the altar. She was sewn into a brilliant white robe, embedded with a thousand small pearls. Streams of sapphires and diamonds met in sharp angles in the tight bodice. She had insisted upon keeping her long plait, into which was woven white and silver ribbons lined with pearls. Beatrice was used to formal gowns, but she had never worn one as heavy as this, and she had to walk slowly, feeling weighted to the mosaic floor of the chapel. She was in no hurry to get to the altar. This was her moment, with the faces of all those who were important to her husband and to her family glued to her as she walked past them like a bejeweled angel.
    The Mass seemed to pass very quickly, her mind whirling with thousands of thoughts and images, none of which she could remember after the ceremony was over. It was all a blur until Ludovico had taken her left hand and placed upon her finger a ring with a huge square diamond at its center, surrounded by the tiniest pearls she had ever seen, strung on wires. It was so heavy that, had he not been holding her hand, it would have dropped right to her side. Would she have to wear it all the day long, she wondered? Then he was walking her away from the altar and the rush of faces came at her again, and she just smiled and smiled.
    After the ceremony in the chapel, dinner for the hundred or so guests had been taken in the immense dining hall, with tall ceilings painted in