Chapter 4
Crash! Each of us rolled onto a hard cobblestone street. Ouch! The grassy field in England was much softer. I think I may have a few bruises. I landed first, then P, then Zack landed and rolled with so much momentum that he bowled into a street vendor’s cart and fruits tumbled to the ground. The cart owner stood up, his round ruddy face becoming redder with anger. He raised his fist and shouted at us in a foreign language. He continued with more words we didn’t understand until two police officers rounded the corner. They picked up speed when they saw the man yelling at us.
“Ruunnn!” I screamed. The book had fallen a few feet in front of me when we had landed. I remembered to grab it this time and we took off. The man continued to yell at us and the policemen followed. We still could not understand the language that the men spoke.
Zack glanced back at me as we ran through the streets. “I think it may be Italian.”
Then the words started to sound familiar. “Stop thieves!” came from the cart owner’s mouth.
“You children will go to jail!” came from the policeman.
We ran and ran. We passed city shop after shop. I was starting to get tired. P seemed to have enough energy to keep up with Zack.
“This way!” Zack yelled over his shoulder.
There was an alley off to the right of the main road, just past a small foods store. We were far enough ahead of the men that they wouldn’t see us turn. Alas, the alleyway was a dead end lined with two old empty carts and three large barrels. There was no way out. It was only a matter of time before the men would find us.
“Should we try the book?” asked P.
“No. I don’t think so” I replied. “We don’t have time to waste. If it’s not the right time, and it doesn’t work, we’ll get caught standing here waiting.”
Zack scanned the alley. “We have to hide in the barrels!” he waved us on. “Let’s go!”
We threw off the lids and climbed in. The barrels were filled with hundreds of small sardine sized fish. Gross. I held my breath as the stench was almost unbearable. We kept silent as the men passed by still yelling. We waited until we could no longer hear their voices then jumped out of the barrels.
“PU, we stink!” stated P. “Now all the cats in the city will be following us.”
Faint meows floated out from the dark end of the alley. Zack looked at me, “We have to get out of here, now! Let’s go!”
The three of us slowly emerged from the alley, careful to search for the men before beginning down the main road again. The coast was clear. We passed another small outdoors market full of carts overflowing with fruits and breads. We were cautious not to touch anything as we watched the people passing by. Men wore small black hats without brims and long black cloaks. The women wore long dresses, in variations of red or blue, with high empire waists and modestly cut bodices. We listened to the men and women talking. Some words would be in Italian, but we became to hear more and more in English. It must have had something to do with that magic book.
Zack and I came to the conclusion that we were in an Italian city and, now that we seemed to be safe, were very interested in the sites. The point we stood in the road was a hill and we could see down into the valley at the end. It looked like a town square with tall white buildings lined with ornate columns. A fountain sat at the center of the square. We thought we were in the clear so we both grabbed P’s hand and strolled down the slope.
I thought out loud. “I remember reading about renaissance Italy in History class. I wonder what city we are in. Look at all this old architecture. It is beautiful.”
“It’s not as old now as it was in our history books!” retorted Zack. “Wow, look at the detail on those columns. I wonder if that is the center of town.”
Just then, P was gently tugging at my shirt. I ignored him and he pulled harder. “Emma! Please turn around.”
Zack and I continued our conversation but slowly turned around to see what P was so upset about. One of our policeman followers had seen us and was picking up speed running down the hill. Zack yanked both our hands and we were off again. My legs were so tired. We ran hard straight down the hill. We were going so fast that we couldn’t stop when an old man walked out into our path. The four of us fell into a heap in the middle of the cobblestone street.
“I’m so sorry!” I apologized to the man crumpled on the ground.
Zack helped the man to his feet. We all scrambled up around them. As we arose, the police officer came up to us.
“Stop those children. They are thieves!” shouted the policeman.
The elderly man looked him straight in the eye. “No, sir, not these children. These are my sister’s children. They have been with me all day. We just came out of my home to check the weather, and three young hoodlums ran by and knocked us down. They continued running down the hill and didn’t even stop to help us up.”
Surprisingly the policeman believed the old man, thanked him and continued on his way down the hill. Then we thanked the old man too.
He smiled kindly, “Please tell me your story young children. Why were you running from the police? What did you do?”
Zack spoke first. “I accidentally knocked some fruit off of a man’s cart and he thought we were stealing from him. But we weren’t!”
“Yes,” I interjected, “and I don’t think anyone would have believed that we didn’t steal anything. The man was so angry.”
The older man nodded in understanding. “I see, but you left out the part where you fell into the fish pond. You three smell awfully fishy. My name is Leo. My home is just up these stairs. My housekeeper is here today and she may be able to help you freshen up a bit.”
“What do we have to lose?” Zack looked at me. “We are out of place in time, we are being chased by the police and boy do we stink!”
“Please guys,” pleaded P. The sun is going down and it is starting to get chilly out here. I am wet from fish water and am going to catch a cold. I say follow that man!”
“Okay P,” I agreed. “Sir, we won’t be any trouble, but we could use your help. My name is Emma. This is Zack and that is P.”
“All right children, good to meet you. Follow me.”
We followed the old man up a winding staircase to an ornately carved door. He gently turned the knob, and as the door swung inward we could see a large room filled with easels and tables. Jars of paint and multiple types of brushes were strewn haphazardly on the tables. A large bookshelf stood against the far wall. It was filled with tall leather bound books. Many books lay open on the long tables. Some were bound with twine at the center. Some lay open and their exposed pages were covered with charcoal and pencil drawings.
One book was laden with intricate drawings of the human body. Every muscle was outlined carefully. There were human forms in motion, running, jumping, squatting down. It was fascinating. P came over to me and we turned each page in amazement. We continued until I flipped open a page and came across a nude female body. Of course it was beautiful and drawn perfectly anatomically. I stared in wonder but then remembered P’s naïve young eyes beside me and I quickly put my hand over his eyes and closed the book.
“Um, P. This book over here looks very interesting too. I think you’ll like it better.” I tried to change the subject.
The next book was thick and heavy. The pages were more worn as if each picture had been rubbed out and changed numerous times. Each page was filled with what looked like drawings of mechanical devices. The first set of drawings looked like weapons. There was a large gun with 8 barrels for shooting many bullets at the same time. Another picture looked like a bunch of guns set up all at once. Other pages had drawings of wheels. Some had larger scaled pictures of the treads off to the side. The spokes in the wheels appeared different on each picture. We saw drawings of wagons attached to horses, with close up pictures of the axles and other components.
As we flipped through the pages, the machines became less like the wagons of the current time and more li
ke vehicles of our time. We saw a boat with a very sleek body. There was a triangular shaped machine with small wheels at the bottom that resembled a tank. As we flipped through more pages we came to the most fascinating drawings of flying machines.
P was taken aback. “Emma,” he exclaimed. “Look at these. These are planes! And this is a helicopter!”
The charcoal drawings were detailed. The first 2 machines looked like airplanes. There was a body like a fuselage and very thin wings extending to either side. The helicopter-like machine had a small body and one circular wing on top that looked like a very wide corkscrew. These vehicles weren’t put into place until the nineteenth century!
The nice old man came up behind us. “I see you’ve found my flying machines. This one here is an ornithopter. One day someone will build these and they will fly. I need to modify them a bit, but I know that they can work.”
Zack approached us at that point. “Sir, what is your full name.”
The kind man replied, “I am Leonardo Da Vinci, painter as profession, inventor on the side.”
We were in awe. We had read about this man’s many paintings and inventions in History class in school. He is famous for his paintings.
“Shhh. Don’t say anything about what we know.” I looked at P.
“Ah Em, I won’t say anything. I won’t call his ornithopter a helicopter anymore. But it’s really cool.”
“Um, Mr. Da Vinci,” interrupted Zack. Your drawings are amazing. We are very impressed and hope to see them built one day.”
“Thank you my child,” the kind man replied. “I will continue to invent as long as I can. But right now it is time to go and paint. I have a job at the monastery in the center of town. Once my housekeeper returns with some of her children’s clothes for you to change into, and you get that fish smell off of you, you can all go with me.
The housekeeper returned soon after that and took each of us separately into the bedroom. She helped us get cleaned up with water from a wide pitcher at the bedside. It was great that her kids were about the size of each of us, however, they were all boys. I was the last to get dressed, and as I walked into the main room I could hear peals of laughter from P and quiet giggles from Zack. I had a long white woolen shirt on that hung down past my knees. The brown woolen trousers continued past my toes, and I walked on the cuffs of the pant legs and almost tripped coming into the room. Luckily the housekeeper cinched a rope around my waist to hold up the pants and to tighten the shirt. She then bent down to roll up the pants and pinned them up so I could walk.
“All right kids. It’s time to go to work. P, you grab some of those brushes over there. Emma, you grab a few of those paint jars over there, and Zack you can grab those other jars over there.”
He pointed and nodded as we gathered the materials. He grabbed a few other supplies himself and we were off.
The monastery wasn’t very far away from the old man’s apartment. We walked a few blocks and came upon a high iron gate with intricately twisted dark metal rods at the center. The gate joined two high stone walls that surrounded the courtyard of the building. At either side of the gate a bronze angel sat atop a pillar of stone.
Leo pulled a rope attached to a bell at the side of the gate. A deep resonating sound emerged from the bell and, in a few minutes, a small balding man dressed in a small round brown cap and a long brown robe that dragged on the stone under his feet came into view. The robe was loosely tied at the thin man’s waist allowing the top of a coarse white woolen shirt to be seen.
As the man neared, Leo bent down to me. “It’s a good thing you have on boy’s clothing. Women are not allowed in the monastery. Please don’t let anyone know you’re a girl” And he winked at me.
We followed the small monk to the back of the monastery to what looked like a dining hall. There were numerous wooden tables and chairs pushed over to one side of the room. On the other side was a make shift wooden scaffolding. It looked like someone had nailed or tied together old discarded wooden planks and sticks. It looked awfully rickety.
The scaffolding took up most of the wall on the far side of the room. Above it, we could see a large painting encompassing most of the wall above the framework. It was not completed, but we could easily make out figures of men. There was a man with a beard at the center surrounded by two groups of men on either side. They all looked different. Some were balding, some had long white beards and others had shorter curly hair. These men appeared to be celebrating with bread and wine, yet turning their attention to the serious figure at the center.
I looked at Zack wide eyed. “This is “The Last Supper”-one of Da Vinci’s most famous works! This is his interpretation of the final meeting of Jesus and all of his disciples. It is wonderful. Look at the vibrant colors. The reds and blues and even oranges.” I pointed, “Look at the emotion on the faces of the men on the more completed side of the painting. I have seen photographs of this painting, but it was so aged that the colors appeared faded and dingy and it was very hard to see the faces of Jesus and his disciples. And even though Jesus is not finished in this current painting, I can see the gravity of his words on his face.”
“Come children. We have work to do.” We saw Leo look quickly over his shoulder as he began to climb up the fragile scaffold.
P went running after him.
“Be careful!” I yelled, trying to make my voice sound a little more boyish in case any of the monks was listening. “Don’t fall!”
“He’ll be fine,” Zack stated calmly and took my hand.
We carefully climbed up the wooden framework after them and situated ourselves in front of the painting. We placed our supplies out where we were directed by the old man. Leo took out a few jars from the bag he was carrying and took a few of P’s brushes. He mixed up a thick sticky whitish concoction and spread it on the wall in front of him. He then opened the jars of paint and went to work putting color on top of the base mixture. We would hand him whatever he wanted when he required it.
The three of us watched as the hand of Jesus took shape. The fingers ended in translucent nails and wrinkled knuckles formed with a few strokes of the paintbrush. Veins ran over the back of the hand as if blood began to pump through them.
This man was such an artist. We were mesmerized. Then suddenly Mr. Da Vinci handed a paintbrush to P and told him to start painting Jesus’ robe. We were speechless as P gently stroked the red-brown tempera paint onto the wall. We could see his eyes widen with excitement and pride in his accomplishment. He continued to paint the robe while Leonardo painted more intricacies on the face and hands.
We watched and helped for hours until the silence was broken by a man that walked into the great room. We first heard the clip clop of his fancy shoes across the stone floor. Zack and I turned to look as Leo and P continued to paint.
“Ahem…” came from down below. “Mr. Leonardo Da Vinci, your housekeeper told me I would find you here. You have been avoiding me for months. I have you trapped now on that scaffolding and you cannot run away. Have you thought about my offer?”
Leonardo slowly stopped painting and moved to the edge of the scaffolding. “You have found me, sir.” He sighed. “And yes, I have considered your offer. But I have been so very busy with this important work that I currently do not have the time to undertake anything else. Please give me a month’s time to complete this task and I will again consider your offer.”
The man snorted under his breath then again looked up at the master painter. “My offer stands at the same amount of money. It is a good sum of money if you recall. You would be a fool to reject it. Keep that in mind. Also, I cannot wait forever. My wife is not getting any younger!”
With that, a shy woman with a plump round face emerged from behind the stern man. She had long straight dark brown hair parted at the center of her head. We could see thoughtful brown eyes with small wrinkles at the corners. At first she had a serious expression on her face, but when she saw the three of us kids, a faint yet gentle
smile formed at the angles of her mouth. She did not say a word but nodded kindly to Leonardo as she turned to follow her husband out of the hall.
The two figures walked out and Leonardo turned back to his painting. P continued to help.
I turned to Zack in awe again and almost couldn’t speak. “Do you know who that was?” I squeaked out.
Zack shook his head quickly from side to side. “I saw a pretty woman with a cranky man. That’s all I know.”
I leered at him. “Oh come on. Pay attention. That is the Mona Lisa! Only the other most famous painting by Leonardo Da Vinci. It has to be. Did you see that smile? Wow, we’ve met the Mona Lisa!”
Zack finally got it. “I think you’re right Emma. That is really cool!”
We sat and talked about our discovery while P and Leo finished painting Jesus’ robe and hands. A little while later the old man began to clean up his supplies.
“That is enough for today. We must be fresh for tomorrow. Come children help get these things together and we will go home for the day.”
We packaged up the supplies and climbed down to the floor, then left the monastery through the ornate front gate. We followed Leonardo down the street towards his home. It was getting dark and P tripped over a loose stone in the street. The paint jars rolled everywhere, but it didn’t sound like any of them broke. Leonardo turned around and began to help us pick up the jars. He had just walked to the alley across the street to pick up a stray jar when that police officer from earlier in the day strolled around the corner. He immediately recognized us and picked up his pace. We took off!
As we ran down the street Zack called to Leonardo, “Thank you for everything. Sorry about the paint jars. We are all honored to have worked with you for a day!”
Leo watched helpless as we ran. “Good luck children. Thank you for your help!”
We all sprinted down the next block as the officer narrowed in on us. We couldn’t end up stuck in an Italian jail. What if we never got home? The faster we ran, the faster the policeman ran. Around corners, past the fruit cart from this morning, past the alley with the fish barrels. Running until we felt like our legs could run no more. Finally, Zack steered us down an alley. He thought we could lose the policeman and come out on the other side, but the alley was a dead end. And no barrels to be found, just an empty lane.
We could hear him getting closer and Zack prompted me, “GET THE BOOK!”
I had forgotten that I had the bag slung over my shoulder all day. I was not letting it go. I took a deep breath and quickly pulled the book out of the bag and placed it on the stone street. I held my breath as the running footsteps neared.
Suddenly, dust on the street began to stir and gently swirl around us. The letters on the cover moved into their assigned spots and the word “IMAGINE” appeared at the center. The pages began to rustle as before until they came to rest at the precise location. Letters darted across the page and it seemed as if they moved faster than before. They faded in and out for a few minutes, like blinking Christmas lights, then appeared as a paragraph at the center of the page.
I read aloud, “Open your mind and imagine worlds that you never knew. Let your mind lead you away from a newfound kindness and guide you to greater knowledge and adventure.”
The breeze turned into a wind that swept my hair from my face and almost pushed us off out feet. Just as the officer rounded the corner to the alley, the swirling mist began to form our black hole to another time. He stopped as he saw the scene, almost falling over from the force of the wind. We saw him shake is fist and thought we heard him say something about black magic, then, he was drowned out by the din.
Zack glanced at me and grabbed my hand tightly. I grabbed P’s hand so tightly he yelled “Ouch!” With Zack as the leader, we jumped into the eddying whirlpool of gas. I imagined that we looked like three paper dolls, unfolded and holding hands, as we floated through the blackness to a new destination.