The Vitruvian Man: The man behind Da Vinci's timeless drawing. by David Aucsmith

The Vitruvian Man: The man behind Da Vinci's timeless drawing. by David Aucsmith

Author:David Aucsmith [Aucsmith, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-01-31T23:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SPEREMUS QUAE VOLUMUS SED QUOD ACCIDERIT FERAMUS

Let us hope for what we want, but let us endure whatever happens.

I awoke with the thought that only a little over a month was left before we lost our home and lands. Even the presence of Aemilia, her soft skin against mine, the smell of her hair, couldn’t push aside the anxiety that weighed upon me.

Ten days had passed, and I could today plead my case to Quintus Fabius Sanga. Like Aemilia with the Julii, he was my last hope.

As I moved, Aemilia stretched, lifted her head, and kissed me. “I’ll find us something to eat,” she said and slid out of bed.

I dressed as she put two plates of food together from what she had purchased the day before. The meal wasn’t elaborate, just bread, olive oil, and figs, but we ate and I made ready to leave.

“I’ll be here when you return,” she said and hugged me. “May the gods favor you.”

I shut the door, still uneasy about leaving her alone. I couldn’t stop thinking about how empty I had been when she had been kidnapped.

I took much less than an hour to walk to Sanga’s beautiful home. However, unlike the last time I visited, a queue of clients waited outside, the servant acting as gatekeeper.

“Good morning. I would like to see the master, Quintus Fabius Sanga, at his convenience,” I said to the servant. “I gave you my letter of introduction when last we met.”

“You are, sir?”

“Marcus Vitruvius Pollio.”

“Ah, yes. I remember you.” He consulted a wax tablet. “Yes, he will see you, but you will have to wait your turn.”

I didn’t know what I had expected. My letter of introduction had gained me entrance but not favor. “Thank you. I will be waiting.”

I walked back to the end of the line, past the others, who looked at me with a smugness that suggested I was no more important than they were. I winced. I had been arrogant to think my need more pressing than theirs and that I should be granted entrance before those who had waited all morning, perhaps even since before dawn.

So, I waited. I could do nothing else. Every few minutes, I took a step forward and returned to waiting. My father would have told me that waiting was a practice in patience. The line moved, but ever so slowly, and several hours passed before I reached the front.

“Master Vitruvius, Quintus Fabius Sanga will see you.”

As I stepped into the vestibule, the gatekeeper threw out his arm. “Sir! Always enter with your right foot first. Otherwise, it will be bad luck!”

I had never heard of such a thing, but I left and re-entered, this time making sure my right foot touched the tile floor first. The gatekeeper led me through the vestibule, into the atrium, and on into the tablinum, where Sanga sat at a desk, reading a scroll that I recognized as the letter of introduction my mother had written. “Good morning, Quintus Fabius Sanga,” I said.



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