Monday with a Mad Genius

by Mary Pope Osborne

  Leonardo tugged on the reins and his horse turned off the main road and started up a narrow, rocky path. The cart bumped past pale green olive trees and yellow fields of wildflowers. Soon it came to the bottom of a steep hill.

  Leonardo pulled the reins and his horse halted. “There! Can you see it?” he said. “My Great Bird.” He pointed to a strange-looking structure on the top of the hill.

  “What is it?” asked Jack.

  “The wings are like those of a bat, only much, much larger—large enough for a man!” said Leonardo. “About a month ago on a moonlit night, my apprentices and I brought it to the top of this hill. I did not have the confidence to try it then, but now I do.”

  Jack was confused. He knew people didn’t fly airplanes until the beginning of the 1900s. “Um—maybe you should work on this one a little longer,” he said. “I mean, maybe—”

  “No, no, today is the day! I feel it!” said Leonardo. “Stay here and watch.”

  Leonardo leapt down from the cart and took long strides up the steep slope.

  “Quick, look up Great Bird in the Leonardo book,” Annie said to Jack.

  Jack pulled out their research book and looked up Great Bird in the index. “It’s here!” he said. He found the right page and read aloud:

  Leonardo da Vinci spent years making a flying machine that he called the Great Bird. But not until the invention of lightweight motors, nearly 400 years after Leonardo’s time, would human flight be possible. It is not known whether Leonardo ever tried to fly the Great Bird. If he did, he surely crashed.

  “Oh, no!” said Annie. “His machine won’t work! If Leonardo tries to fly off that hilltop, he’ll crash. We have to stop him before he hurts himself!”

  Annie jumped out of the cart. Jack put the book away. He left his bag in the cart and ran after her. They started up the steep hill.

  “Leonardo, stop!” shouted Annie.

  But Leonardo kept climbing.

  “Human flight isn’t possible yet!” Jack cried.

  “Don’t try it, Leonardo!” yelled Annie.

  Jack and Annie were only halfway up the hill when Leonardo reached the top. He began strapping himself into a harness on the Great Bird.

  Large handles were attached to the harness. On each side were huge cloth wings stretched over a wooden frame.

  “Don’t!” shouted Jack.

  But Leonardo was already staggering toward the edge of the steep hill with the flying machine on his back. It was so heavy that he could hardly stand up.

  “Leonardo, stop!” cried Annie. “You need a motor!”

  But Leonardo bent his legs and lowered his body close to the ground. He grabbed the two large handles and pulled them toward his chest. The huge wings rose into the air.

  “The Great Bird raises its wings and is pushed by the wind!” shouted Leonardo.

  “Noooo!” yelled Jack and Annie.

  Leonardo leapt off the side of the hill into the air. A gust of wind lifted him. As the wind held his wings aloft, he pushed and pulled on the handles. The wings moved up and down.

  But Leonardo couldn’t make the wings flap fast enough. Though he pushed and pulled wildly on the handles, he soon began falling through the air—until wings and wood and Leonardo all crashed to the ground.

  “Leonardo!” yelled Annie.

  Jack and Annie charged down the hill. At the bottom, Leonardo da Vinci lay in a silent heap. His twisted wings spread over the grass. Jack and Annie rushed to him.

  “Are you all right?” cried Annie.

  There was no answer.

  Oh, no! We’ve killed him! thought Jack.

  But then Leonardo stirred. He moved his hand.

  “Are you all right?” Annie asked again.

  Leonardo moved his other hand. He rolled over on his side and unbuckled the straps of the harness. He crawled away from the flying machine and hauled himself to a sitting position. His face was scraped and red.

  “Are you all right?” Annie asked once more.

  Leonardo looked at her. The light had gone out of his eyes. “No,” he said in a quiet voice. “I am not all right.”

  “Did you break something?” asked Annie.

  Leonardo stood up. He stared at the twisted and torn wings of the Great Bird. He sighed deeply. “Only my heart,” he said. “Only my heart.”

  Leonardo turned and limped across the grass back toward his horse and cart. Jack and Annie followed. When Leonardo got to the cart, his white horse snorted, as if trying to comfort him. Leonardo pressed his head against the horse’s neck.

  Annie stepped toward him. “Why is your heart broken, Leonardo?” she asked quietly.

  Leonardo looked back at the hill. “All my life, I have started projects that have come to nothing,” he said. “My towers and bridges have never been built. My scientific ideas have never been proven.”

  “But—” said Annie.

  Leonardo went on: “For years, I made drawings of an enormous horse I planned to sculpt for the Duke of Milan. But in the end, that work came to nothing, too. I have finished only a few paintings. I cannot even finish my favorite one, a portrait of a lovely lady of Florence. Today my fresco in the hall of the great council was ruined. But always, in spite of all my failures, one thing brought me comfort.”

  “What?” asked Jack.

  “I knew someday I would be the first person in the world to fly,” said Leonardo. His voice quavered. “Talking with the two of you, I knew the time had finally come to test my machine.”

  “We’re sorry,” said Annie.

  “No, no, I had to test it sooner or later,” said Leonardo. “But now that dream, too, has come to nothing. I will never achieve fame by flying. I will never fly.” He hung his head and stared at the ground. “I shall go home now. I shall burn all my notebooks and my unfinished paintings and inventions. I shall leave Florence and never return.”

  “Oh, no!” said Jack.

  “Wait a minute,” said Annie. “You will fly.”

  “Annie,” Jack warned. Since the machine would never work, he didn’t want her to give Leonardo false hope.

  “You are going to fly, Leonardo,” said Annie. “And you’re going to love it.”

  “Annie, human flight isn’t possible at this time in history!” Jack whispered to Annie. “A person needs a motor. We don’t have a motor.”

  But Annie paid no attention. “Hold on, everyone,” she said. “I have to get something.” She climbed into the cart and reached into Jack’s bag.

  When Annie turned back around, Jack gasped. He had forgotten all about the Wand of Dianthus.

  Annie held up the wand. “Close your eyes, Leonardo,” she said.

  Leonardo just shook his head.

  “Please?” said Annie. “Just for a second?”

  Leonardo put his head in his hands.

  “Listen,” said Annie. “This morning you said that a great artist has to combine observation with imagination.”

  Leonardo barely nodded.

  “Well, watch out—because this is the imagination part!” said Annie. She waved the wand at Leonardo, then at herself and Jack. Counting her words on her fingers, she said in a loud, clear voice: “Make. Us. Fly. Like. Birds.”

  Leonardo’s arms whipped out to his sides. They sprouted long grayish feathers. He let out a yelp. The next thing Jack knew, his arms had turned into feathery wings, too! So had Annie’s!

  “What’s happening?” cried Leonardo.

  “Wings!” said Annie.

  Jack’s wings felt light and airy, yet strong and powerful.

  “Now we can fly!” said Annie.

  “Wings?” said Leonardo, looking stunned. Then he burst out laughing. “We have wings! We have wings! Run! Run into the wind!”

  Jack, Annie, and Leonardo all stretched out their wings and took quick steps forward. The wind rushed under their feathers and lifted them off the ground.

  “WHOOOAH!” cried Leonardo.

  Leonardo, Jack, and Annie flapped their w
ings and soared high into the sky. Then they caught a gentle wind and stopped flapping. Twisting this way and that, they glided in a big circle above the countryside.

  Jack felt as light as the wind. His heart beat wildly.

  “Incredible, huh?” yelled Annie.

  “Best flying ever!” shouted Jack.

  Jack and Annie had flown lots before. They’d flown on a dragon, on a bicycle, on a winged lion, on a magic carpet, and on the back of a white stag in Camelot. They’d even flown as ravens over a haunted castle. But this was the first time they’d ever flown on their own, just as themselves.

  “Follow me!” cried Leonardo. He tilted his wings and flew out of the circle. Jack and Annie flew after him. They all swooped high up over the quiet hills and glided through low clouds.

  The cool, wet mist blew against Jack’s face. He felt as if he were swimming through the sky, as if the clouds were water keeping him afloat.

  Laughing and whooping with delight, Leonardo led Jack and Annie out of the clouds and down over the yellow meadows and the pale green olive groves.

  “Helloooo!” Leonardo shouted to farmers plowing a field. But the farmers didn’t look up.

  “Helloooo!” he called to grape pickers working in a vineyard, but they didn’t look up, either.

  No one on the ground looked up, but all the birds in the sky seemed to take notice. Birds cawed and swooped near them, as if welcoming them to their world. Birds flew alongside them and spread out in front of them, leading them over the city walls of Florence.

  Jack, Annie, and Leonardo circled with the birds over the sea of red-tiled roofs, over the great dome of the cathedral, and over the bell tower of the palace of the great council.

  “Florence looks so neat and orderly from up here!” Leonardo cried to Jack and Annie. “I wish I had my sketchbook!”

  The city did look orderly from the sky, thought Jack:

  the busy market

  with its rows of stalls and tents,

  the narrow lanes with the brightly colored

  clothes waving from clotheslines,

  the long covered bridge,

  the winding, sparkling river.

  Jack, Annie, and Leonardo soared with the birds back over the city walls out to the countryside. They glided over the olive groves and vineyards. Then they circled above the spot where Leonardo’s Great Bird lay broken in the grass.

  The birds swooped up and vanished behind the clouds. Leonardo, Jack, and Annie glided down toward the ground. They opened their wings wide and then, gently and easily, their feet touched the grass. Their wings fluttered with tiny beats, and the three of them took quick hopping steps before coming to a full stop.

  When Jack, Annie, and Leonardo were steady on their feet, their long feathers disappeared and their bird wings became arms again. Leonardo looked dazed. He stared up at the sky. Then he staggered a few steps and fell facedown into the grass.

  “Leonardo?” said Annie.

  Oh, no, thought Jack. He’s had a heart attack.

  “Leonardo?” said Annie. She knelt down near him.

  Leonardo rolled over and stared up at Jack and Annie. “What … what just happened?” he stammered. “Did we fly? Did we really fly? Or was it a dream?”

  “Uh … well …” Jack didn’t know what to say. To explain the wand to Leonardo, they’d have to start way back at the very beginning—with the tree house, Morgan, Merlin, Teddy, Kathleen, Dianthus. It would take forever.

  “Well,” said Annie. “One day a long time ago, we were playing in the woods and we saw—”

  “Annie—” Jack shook his head.

  Annie frowned. “I guess it can’t really be explained,” she said.

  Leonardo looked up at the sky. “No, no,” he said. “I think you are right. Perhaps some things should remain mysteries and are better kept in our hearts. We should not try to explain them.”

  That’s an amazing statement, Jack thought, from a person who always tries to explain everything.

  “But if I had to explain it, I would explain it this way,” said Leonardo. He leapt to his feet. “For years, I wrote down all my observations of bird flight. I made hundreds of drawings. These things helped me build my flying machine. But in the end, something was missing—something very important.”

  “What?” asked Annie.

  “The spirit of a bird!” said Leonardo. “A bird is not just a machine. A bird has a spirit. And with the two of you, I somehow gained that spirit. If only for a short time and if only in my imagination, we all became more bird than human!”

  “And did the spirit of the bird mend your heart?” Annie asked.

  Leonardo smiled. “Yes, my heart is mended now. I am ready to leave this dream behind and move on to others. And it does not matter that the world will never know of my great triumph.”

  “So maybe fame isn’t the secret of happiness?” said Jack.

  “Absolutely not,” said Leonardo. “I know that now. We must do what we do to satisfy our own hearts. For instance, I am working on a painting now. I love it. I do not care if others ever see it.… Oh! Oh, no! What time is it?” He jerked his head around to look at the sun. “I must go! I will be late!”

  “Late for what?” said Annie.

  “To meet my model at the studio!” said Leonardo. “The woman I am painting in the portrait I was just talking about! We must return!”

  Jack, Annie, and Leonardo hurried back to the cart and climbed in. Leonardo snapped the reins, and the white horse started clopping back toward Florence.

  At first no one spoke on the trip back. It was as if they didn’t want to break the spell of joy that had settled over them. Even though Jack was bumping up and down in the cart, he could still remember the feeling of flying smoothly through the sky. He could feel the wind rustling his long feathers.

  The cart passed through a gate in the city walls. As they started through the streets, Annie broke the silence. “So if fame is not the secret of happiness,” she said to Leonardo, “then what is? Do you think it could be flying?”

  Leonardo thought for a moment. “No, no. The secret of happiness cannot be flying,” he said.

  “Why not?” asked Jack.

  “Because flying is a great dream that no one but us will ever realize,” said Leonardo. “Surely happiness cannot be only for us.”

  “True,” said Annie.

  “So what do you think the secret is?” asked Jack.

  “Hmm …” Leonardo was silent. Then he sighed. “I must think about it,” he said.

  Jack looked worriedly at the sky. The sun would go down soon and night would come. According to their rhyme, they were supposed to leave when the night bird sang its song. “Um … how long do you think it’ll take you to think about it?” Jack asked.

  “I do not know,” said Leonardo. “Right now all I know is that I must hurry to meet with my model. She is already unhappy enough without my being late.”

  “Why is she unhappy?” asked Annie.

  “She will not say,” said Leonardo. “Perhaps she is tired of posing for me. For three years, she has been sitting for her portrait.”

  “Whoa, that’s a really long time,” said Annie, “especially if you’re just sitting.”

  “Yes, yes, it is,” said Leonardo. “Lately she will not even smile. She only stares at me sadly. I have tried hiring singers, musicians, and joke-sters to amuse her, but nothing helps.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t meet with her today,” said Jack. He didn’t want Leonardo to lose his good feelings from flying. And he wanted him to spend time thinking about the secret of happiness.

  “No, I must,” said Leonardo. “The light is perfect today. Late afternoon is the best time for painting a portrait—in my courtyard, when the sunlight is golden and shadows are beginning to fall.”

  Shadows were falling as the white horse pulled the cart into Leonardo’s courtyard. A young woman was standing by the studio door.

  “Lisa!” called Leonardo.

  “Hell
o, Leonardo,” the woman said. She wore a dark gown with a silk cloth over her shoulder. A thin veil covered her long brown hair. She had a high forehead and large brown eyes. Oddly, she looked like someone Jack knew, but he couldn’t remember who.

  “Forgive me, Lisa. I am late,” said Leonardo, leaping down from the cart. “Will you wait for me to set up my things?”

  “Yes, I will wait,” said Lisa.

  Leonardo hurried inside, and Jack and Annie climbed down from the cart. “Hi, we’re Annie and Jack,” said Annie.

  The woman smiled at them. “I am Lisa,” she said.

  “You look familiar to me,” said Annie.

  “Really?” said Lisa. “Are you from Florence?”

  “No, we’re from Frog Creek, Pennsylvania,” said Annie. “It’s far away.”

  Lisa smiled again. “I like the name of your town,” she said.

  So Lisa did smile for other people, thought Jack. He wondered why she wouldn’t smile for Leonardo.

  Leonardo came back outside, carrying a small canvas, an easel, and a paint box. He then brought out a stool for Lisa. She sat down and folded her hands.

  Leonardo placed the canvas on his easel. As he prepared his paints, Jack and Annie looked at his painting-in-progress.

  “Nice,” breathed Annie.

  The small canvas showed the model, Lisa. Except for her mouth, her whole face had been painted. In the background was a misty landscape with mountains and winding rivers.

  Leonardo picked up his brush, dipped it into a paint jar, and began to work. Jack and Annie watched closely as the great genius brushed a thin coat of green paint over the scenery.

  “What are you doing now?” whispered Annie.

  “I paint many very thin coats over the background,” murmured Leonardo. “This casts a soft green light over everything. So it all blends together like smoke, and you cannot tell light from shadow.”

  “How’d you figure that out?” asked Annie. “I mean, you’re always coming up with new ways to do things. How do you do that?”

  “I ask questions,” said Leonardo. “All the time, I ask questions: How can I paint the light? How can I capture the shadows? How can I do this? How can I do that?” Leonardo stopped painting. He put down his brush and looked at Jack and Annie. His eyes were sparkling. “And now, my friends, I know the secret.”