In Bed With Lord Byron

through an open window. The room seemed empty, and yet I could sense a presence. I crawled to the end of the screen and peered
round.
    And nearly had a heart attack.
    Leonardo was standing in front of a table, making some sort of sculpture. He was wearing a rather beautiful pair of green hose and was naked from the waist up. His body was splashed with paint,
and there was a smear of charcoal on his cheek, though this only seemed to highlight the glowing golden beauty of his skin. He was ravishing. A true Adonis. The beams of sunlight shining on his
long hair seemed to sparkle even more vividly as though jealous of its dark chestnut hue. His features were exquisite: high cheekbones, full lips, long eyelashes; his face seemed to pulse with
energy and intelligence. As though sensing my presence, he looked up. Before I drew back and hid, I saw straight into his eyes. They would have put sapphires to shame.
    I sat with my back to the screen, my heart hammering. Thank God he hadn’t seen me. And oh God, another thanks for creating such an incredible man. He made Lord Byron look like a dog. Oh
boy, I am so glad I decided to come. This beat boring old work
any
day.
    I couldn’t resist having another peek; I was like a honey bee circling an exquisite orchid. I noticed there was a slightly wicked smile on his face and I wondered what he was up to. At
first I thought he was moulding a sculpture of a dragon. Then I realised that it was in fact a real-life lizard on the table. It was sitting very calmly while Leonardo attached a large pair of
painted wings to its back, and a pair of horns to its head. How odd. All the same, it was fascinating to watch the enthusiasm dancing in his face, the delicate firmness of his famous artist’s
fingers.
    When he had finished, he stood back and stared. He was obviously happy with the result, because he bunched up his fists and jumped up and down like a little boy. It was so cute, so endearing,
that I had to stop myself from rushing out and giving him a big hug.
    Suddenly Leonardo froze, and I was terrified he had seen me. Then I realised someone was coming; a door banged, footsteps approached. He quickly turned and ran behind the screen.
    I curled up into a petrified ball. At last I plucked up the courage to peer through the gaps in my fingers. Incredibly, he hadn’t even noticed me. He was crouched at the other end of the
screen, peering out, utterly engrossed in spying on whoever was coming into the room.
    I hardly dared breathe. I peered around my end of the screen, wondering what on earth was going on.
    A gentleman had entered the room. He looked as though he was in his late thirties and he was plump, with a round face and dishevelled brown hair.
    He saw the creature on the table and let out a cry.
    ‘What in God’s name . . .’ He took a few steps backwards, his hand to his heart. ‘Dear God, what creature, what devil’s spawn is this – a dragon?’ He
edged closer, frowning.
    Leonardo, unable to help himself, let out a smothered giggle. And without thinking, I did too. Instantly Leonardo’s eyes were on me – wide and shocked. I stared back in dismay.
    ‘Who the hell are you?’ he whispered.
    ‘Um, I am, er, Signor da Liza,’ I whispered back. I shook myself with momentary shock as fifteenth-century Italian fell from my lips, courtesy of the speaking potion. ‘I want
to be your new apprentice!’
    Leonardo looked utterly bewildered, then whispered, ‘Wait here.’
    As he went from out behind the screen he roared, ‘DONATO BRAMANTE, FRIGHTENED OF A LITTLE DRAGON, ARE YOU?’
    ‘Leonardo – so you were hiding there all along! Another one of your practical jokes, you wicked man!’
    ‘My dear Donnino, I know that you love me for them. And look – look at the wing span on my creation. I’ve been experimenting with designs for wings for humans, wings that will
enable us to fly just as the birds do! But . . .’ Leonardo lowered his voice and I heard them whispering. I sat up, frowning. I was still confused by how calm Leonardo’s reaction to my
appearance had been. But maybe Milan was a nice friendly place where people wandered freely in and out of each other’s courtyards, unlike today’s modern fragmented society where
neighbours loathed each other and—
    I heard a sudden swishing noise and realised that a sword had been thrust into the screen. It was about six inches away from my ear. I let out a scream.
    ‘Who are you?’ Leonardo cried.