Leonardo's Swans by Karen Essex Page B

were led by Galeazz’s brother Gaspare, donning dramatic black-and-gold costumes in the style of the Moors, in honor of Ludovico. They looked most severe in their black armor, almost as if they had been sent from Hell.
    Isabella watched for three days while Beatrice searched everywhere for Galeazz, but he did not make an appearance. Finally, on the last day, a swarm of masked men, costumed like ancient Scythian warriors, wearing breastplates and belts of blazing gold against jet-black clothes, arrived on ebony-colored chargers, carrying immense golden lances, the longest that Isabella had ever seen. How they maintained their balance on the horses while carrying these gigantic sticks she did not know. They galloped across the piazza, the silky cloth from their headdresses flying behind them, until they made a dead stop in front of the box where Ludovico and Beatrice sat with the young duke and duchess. Their leader stuck the giant golden lance into the ground and ripped off his headdress.
    It was Galeazz. He bowed to the dukes and duchesses and glanced at Isabella, giving her a little smirk as if to say, I told you I wielded the biggest lance . He recited a poem of his own invention about Beatrice bringing the bud of youth’s first bloom to the ancient land of Lombardy—all predictable stuff—and included a couple of lines about his own betrothed, twelve-year-old Bianca Giovanna, who sat next to Beatrice and received the compliments shyly. Isabella was not in love with Galeazz, but she wished that he had included a reference to her in his recitation. She had been the muse of many poems already in her young life, and nothing thrilled her more than moving a man to take up the pen in admiration of her—unless it was a man taking up the brush to render her likeness.
    By the time the last tilt came to an end, Isabella was exhausted with Galeazz’s victories. Of course he took the day, knocking dozens of men from their horses in disgrace. Beatrice presented him with his prize, a length of priceless gold brocade, and he was the guest of honor at the evening’s festivities.
    Isabella congratulated the knight on his victory and on the surprise of his arrival in disguise. “The costumes of the barbarians were magnificent,” she said. “I had no idea that it was you. I was ready to run for my honor, what with the appearance of such fearsome men.”
    “Just between the two of us, I stole Magistro Leonardo away from his duties decorating the Castello for the wedding to have the costumes designed for us. I paid him very handsomely, I assure you, but I believe it was worth the expense.”
    “He does seem to be able to cast his genius in a myriad of directions.”
    “Yes, he is incomparable in all things. I preyed upon him to do me this favor, not for myself, of course, but because nothing is too extravagant to please and impress Madonna Beatrice.”
    “I sense that you have a special affection for my sister,” Isabella says.
    “Indeed I do, madame. My sole purpose is to serve her.”
    Did men think that because she was young and fair she could not see right through them? The perfunctory smile on his face might have been convincing to some, but to Isabella it was a mere clue that there was more to the story than he was telling.
    “So you are a patron of the Magistro?” she asked.
    “Indeed, as I have just said.”
    “Then you must know of the painting of Madonna Cecilia Gallerani.”
    “I do.” Galeazz seemed relieved to be off the subject of Beatrice, but not happy with the new topic of Cecilia.
    “If you are so fond of Madonna Beatrice, then surely you want to remain in her good graces by pleasing her sister.”
    “Nothing would please me more, except of course to please Madonna Beatrice, because I have made that my life’s quest.” This man was so practiced at playing the knight to ladies that his confidence exceeded that of a playactor.
    “Sir, there is a way that you might please me in the extreme.”
    “I was