“Of course,” the priest replied. “I am, as ever, at your service madonnas, signore.”
With a nod of his large, tonsured head, he bid them goodbye and left.
Viviana trembled with excitement; she gathered herself as best she could, though she could not stop moving, walking from table to table, touching the tools of their craft.
“I know not what will come of this, whether we will even be allowed to make a bid, let alone if we will win the commission. But in the very trying, we will accomplish so much, I feel it, I know it.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious. They began to talk, all and at once, of what it would mean to women artists everywhere.
Only Leonardo remained quiet. When he spoke, Viviana wished he had remained so.
“And what of Lorenzo de’ Medici?” His deep, flat voice threw a thick
