Luca stood next to his painting, his magnum opus, the art he had toiled over for days. He had created the painting exactly to his patron’s specifications: the canvas was larger than most due to his patron’s demand; he used the most hyperpigmented oil paints he could source; he spent hours trying to capture that specific look in his subject’s eye. This was the most expensive, most time intensive, most important commission of Luca’s life. He could not afford for this to go wrong. This portrait was to hang in the palazzo of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. It had to be perfect.
And, of course, Luca could not let the Grand Duke down. After finding a young, half starved Luca on the streets, Grand Duke Leonardo had taken him to the Hospital of Innocents, and had moulded him into the artist he was. Luca owed everything to the Grand Duke. He could not let him down.
Even after all this time, Luca still felt shaky when he watched the Grand Duke walk into his workshop. He took a breath, trying to steady himself, his sweaty hands fidgeting and unable to stay still. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he heard footsteps come closer. Thud. Thud. Thud.
And suddenly, he was there. Leonardo, Grand Duke of Tuscany. He seemed to growl as he walked into the room, an unreadable look on his face that Luca couldn’t tell if it was anger or arousal. He stalked forward towards the painting, ignoring courtiers that moved to bow to him. In this city, the Grand Duke waited for no one. He would simply take, take take; behaviour learnt at the hands of his idols, the de’ Medicis. Luca couldn’t even imagine what sorts of horrific things Leonardo had done to keep hold of his throne, but he tried not to think of it. Leonardo’s rule had shone a light on Luca, and he would be foolish to question it.
The Grand Duke cut an imposing figure. He liked to show off his bounty, the outward signs of his power. Jewels at his throat and chest, an overly large signet ring on his pinky finger, dark velvet clothes, all to emphasise his riches. He had been handsome in his youth, but he was now redfaced and stout with age, though he would act as he had in his youth, knowing that in this world power is everything. Looking at the painting, he leered and Luca felt a shiver of revulsion force its way down his spine but he tried not to feel it. This was his patron, he could not afford to be ungrateful.
He watched as the Grand Duke looked over the painting greedily, almost salivating as he licked his lips, examining every tiny detail. It was an unusual commission really. Normally, Luca would paint with the subject before him, but in this case, the model had already passed. The Grand Duke’s wife Celestina had passed years before Luca had started painting, let alone making paintings on this scale. It had been a tragic death that people spoke of even now; how the Grand Duchess had gone insane at the death of her newborn daughter, and how she had thrown herself from of the balconies of the palazzo. Rumours still abounded to this day that she had not thrown herself, that it was actually the Grand Duke who had killed her, and wasn’t it bizarre that the Grand Duke had never remarried or sired another heir? He had been so devoted to Celestina that his palazzo seemed to be a shrine to her, filled with sketches and portraits of her. Luca had never met her, but this commission of her was to take pride of place in the palazzo, and he had had to capture her from other artist’s interpretations. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He hoped he made her proud.
The Grand Duke coughed, pulling Luca out of his reverie.
Luca knew that it was time. The Grand Duke was waiting for him to introduce the painting, and he tried to step forward, but it was like his limbs had frozen. The Grand Duke snarled, obviously starting to feel irritated, and a pang of panic hit Luca. He could not afford to lose the Grand Duke’s patronage. He could not fall to living on the streets again. He wouldn’t survive.
With difficulty, he forced himself to take a step forward and clear his throat.
“Your Grace,” he winced as his voice cracked. “I present to you… The Celestine.”
Every head in the room turned to the painting, Luca included. He heard gasps from around the room, and a satisfied grunt from Leonardo himself. In Luca’s opinion, it was the best piece of art he had ever created and for this to be the reaction he got? It was possibly the moment that could make his career. His anxiety calmed slightly until he saw a slight smile come across the Grand Duke’s face. He liked it. Luca could breathe. This painting had saved him… for now. His eyes drifted back to the portrait.
“Prepare the painting for transport!” Luca heard the Grand Duke bark and his footsteps recede, but he could no longer focus on Leonardo. His eyes had focused on the painting, and he could not pull away. The painting was no longer as he had painted it. Celestina was not posed as he had painted her. Her eyes were locked with his.
And she was screaming.