Leonardo's Notebook

I had settled in a small suburb of Florence to undertake my studies and escape my previous life in England.

I was on a scholarship to study Painting at the Florence Academy. My family wanted me to study Business, although their intentions were not entirely selfless.

My father was a drunk and my mother died when I was a child. He and my brother Anthony ran the family business and were struggling. They blamed the pace of the modern world and the larger businesses edging them out but their laziness and lack of originality were not qualities that could nurture a business my grandfather had built with his own hands. He was the reason I loved painting, my romantic notions of an art life never satisfying anyone else's worldview.

I had been in Florence less than three months and my friend and colleague, Caspar, had been researching a lost artifact believed to have been owned by Leonardo DaVinci. It was a small black book filled with anatomical drawings of the stomach.

The winter was setting in and too cold to work, we focussed our attention on the book. We met daily in a bar just off the Piazza Della Passera to catch up with each other and conduct research. Caspar had texted me that morning saying he had some important news.

I entered the bar, the wooden facade and strip of graffiti that read ‘Ride Bene Chi Ride Ultimo’ greeting me along with the indifferent face of the proprietor Maurice.

"What’ll it be" he said

“Just a lemonade". It was lunchtime, but I was not a drinker.

Maurice poured the drink and limped over to the bar with it.

“Put it on the tab” I said.

“You’re going to have to pay that soon, do painters even make any money?”.

I smiled and said that things were looking up. He shrugged and returned to his newspaper and the tall glass of whisky that seemed to be a mainstay of all the men who owned bars on the Piazza.

We sat and listened to Mario Biondi’s On A Clear Day through the radio but were interrupted by a loud crash and a scream outside.

I ran out and was shocked to see motorbike parts strewn across the street. The body of a young man in a biker's jacket and helmet was laying just a few yards ahead. A van had been hit and a young woman was on the phone calling for help. I walked over and opened the visor.

“Take the book, I was going to meet with Lafayelle Genoir, he had news, Maurice”.

I took the book from Caspar and waited for the ambulance with him.

I asked the paramedics whether he would be ok and they said he had taken a puncture to the stomach and they are lucky they got there in time. I watched the ambulance speed off down the small street with my friends inside and went back inside the bar.

I sat down and gathered myself and Maurice asked me whether I needed a drink. “No, no" I said. "I must go and meet with Lafayelle Genoir, do you know him?

“No” said Maurice, “What for?”.

“This book we have been researching, It's up for auction this afternoon but Mr Genoir has some news”.

Maurice asked to see the book and I showed him. He smiled and knocked on the mirror to his left. I was shocked to see my brother appear from the back room.

“Anthony?” I said.

“Hello brother, Me and Dad have been trying to get hold of you. Maurice here tracked me down and has been telling me all about you and your loud mouth friend Caspar, I believe you have something quite valuable.”

Maurice picked up a small gun from behind the counter and the two men approached me.

“Hand it over. We don’t want to hurt you, we are willing to pay for the book"

“But this is ours, we found it” I said.

“We’ll give you the £20,000 it's worth, or we’ll shoot. The decision is yours.”

“But it’s worth more! It's supposed to be authenticated, to go in a gallery. We were going to give the money to the university”.

I waited a moment and wondered about my chances against these two thugs. I was never much of a fighter, so I had nothing else to do but hand the book over.

As I stepped forward to hand my brother the book, Maurice let out a shout.

“What are you doing?” Anthony shouted.

“I didn’t mean it”.

“Why is it even loaded? What are you doing!”.

I didn’t feel any pain, just cold, as the blood seeped from my hip and I stumbled over the bar. The two men tossed an envelope which hit my back and they ran out with the book.

I removed my t-shirt and wrapped it around my stomach. I passed out and woke up as the sun was beginning to set. The auction was due to start so I opened the link on my phone and sent a message to Caspar.

I sat and watched as the auctioneers prepared the lot.

“And now, the third item, a book of Leonardo Da Vinci’s anatomy studies. Starting the bid at... £12 million”

My hand slipped and blood poured from the wound. I sat in awe as I watched the prices rise higher and higher until they reached 20 million.

I fell forwards onto the bar and tears came from my eyes. All I could think about was my friend and whether he was ok.

The sun came down and I had woken up again. The moonlight crept through the shades in the window. I sat on my stool like a small boy waiting for his mother. My face was pale and the bleeding had died down. The glass of whisky towered over me with all the world's foul deeds in its shadow.

I looked at my phone and saw a message.

“I’m ok. I saw the auction. Don’t worry Maurice, it's a forgery. Lafayette proved it. It went missed a few years ago in a high profile case that was never solved. Whoever is trying to pass that thing off is going to be in big trouble. Lafayette is on his way to the auctioneers now”

I opened the envelope to see a stack of notes. I smiled and sat back into my pain until I laughed and laughed.

I wondered what my mother or grandfather would say, but their voices didn’t come. Exhausted, there was nothing else to do but drink the whisky and laugh until my eyes fell tired and my body slumped on the bar.

As the sun rose, shimmering its light through the crumbling buildings on the Piazza Della Passera, the snow cleared from the street and a new day began.