Date: Tue, 7 Jan 1997 20:13:25 -0600 (CST)
To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com
From: CousinCp <pricec@ConnectI.com>
Subject: Leonardo Paints (-- to be archived)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leonardo Paints
by CousinCp
(c) December, 1996 

	"You ask me how it is that I came to have my portrait
painted by Leonardo? How could it be that THE Leonardo da
Vinci could paint my portrait? Moi, Janette du Charme, by
blood, a simple country girl of a minor degree of nobility. 
	And then again by blood, a member of a much older, more
select family. A creature of the night, immortal. Vampire. 
	It is a story I have never told you, though an
interesting one (if I do say it). I will try to be brief,
though the story is a long one. A very long one indeed. 
	Come, sit by the fire. Pour yourself a drink. It is a
very special vintage. Rather precocious, but it finishes
well. I think you will enjoy it. Make yourself comfortable. 
	Where shall I begin?

	I was lost. Not in direction, for I had no particular
direction to be lost from. I was looking for a direction. I
had recently decided to pursue my own interests. To strike
out on my own. To leave my master and my lover. To leave the
nest, as you might say, to try my wings.
	I sought out the gaiety of life at court. 
	It was Paris in the 1490s. After decades upon decades
of traveling with my Master, LaCroix, and then also with my
vampire "brother" Nicola (whom I had taken for my lover), I
decided to return to Paris. As you can imagine, I found it
very much changed. A city can change tremendously in one
decade; I had been gone for almost 20.
	I was cautious in those days. Sometimes to the point of
starvation. In all my wanderings about Paris, I never
encountered any others of our kind. I felt this oddly
curious, but at the same time satisfying. I never let it
make me careless, though. I took a rather haughty delight, I
must say, in being a one-of-a-kind. Unique. Special.
	I was enjoying very much the life at court. I wanted
nothing to spoil it. At times I would wander far into the
country to hunt and feed, if I fed at all. Some nights I
would venture into the seedy parts of the town, into
raucous, anonymous little bars where disguised as a common
woman, I could be certain no one would recognize me. And I
would pretend to drink their meager wine, sing their songs,
maybe have a dance or two.
	And then, in my own good time, I would satisfy my
hunger, still always cautious.
	After a time, I persuaded a young nobleman to take me
into his circle of friends, to make the proper
introductions. I believe you know what I mean when I use the
word "persuade". 
	I had assumed the identity of a wealthy widow, Madame
de Berry. I had rented a lovely, rather opulent house and
had maidservants and coachmen. I entertained frequently,
giving lavish dinner parties. The wine and meat were always
the finest. I made certain of this although, of course, I
would only occasionally have a small sip of the wine. Those
of our kind, we prefer a richer vintage. 

	I see you smile, and I know you concur. 

	There was always music and laughter ... and gambling.
Always fun to gamble with mortals whose thoughts you could
read. Not like cheating! It still takes skill to play the
cards properly. And I am always careful to lose just enough
to avoid suspicion.
	I even entertained several proposals of marriage. Yes!
The first one was such a shock that I must confess I laughed
out loud. The poor man was humiliated beyond words. I had to
console him and comfort him. I had not meant to insult him.
Luckily, I was able to make him forget his embarrassment.
Indeed, he "forgot" the entire episode.
	Anyway, after a brief time it came to pass that I met
Louis, the duke of Orleans. Louis was a very handsome man
and kind. When I met him, I instantly felt a kind of common
bond with him. Here was a man I felt I could trust. This
feeling was something I had not known for an interminably
long time. 
	We would sit for hours and talk of philosophy,
religion, politics. I suppose I should say HE talked. I
listened, sometimes impatiently, for as I'm sure you can
agree the affairs of mortal men have very little
significance to our kind. Empires come and go and exert
little influence on immortals. 
	And also the hunger would sometimes rise up in me and I
would become desperate to feed. But until such time, I would
listen, enthralled with his ideas and the power of his
convictions. 
	He told me once that he had been in prison for 3 years
over some squabble with his cousin Charles. This is what he
told me and how he said it. In my naivete, I thought that he
meant some sort of brawl had caused a minor loss of
property. How could I have imagined the truth? 
	Yes, I was at court, but he had merely been introduced
to me as Louis, the duke of Orleans. In my ignorance, I
never made the connection. It later came to be one of my
most valuable lessons: be sure you know with whom it is that
you are dealing.
	It occurred to me on more than one occasion that my
friend Louis might make an excellent companion for me, for
all time, and I considered the possibility of making him
mine. Bringing him across. But something always made me
stop. 
	Perhaps it was that this lesson had never been
completely taught to me. I knew all the theory, but the
actual practice, LaCroix had told me, was almost an artform
in itself. And one that at my young age of only a few
hundred years, he never saw fit to allow me to practice. 
	Besides, Louis seemed somehow too good, too kind. He
seemed destined for other, perhaps greater, things. I have
always believed that the world would be a better place with
men like Louis in it. Don't you agree? And this, as it
happened, was exactly the truth.
	In case you haven't figured it out by now, the cousin
Charles turned out to be Charles VIII, king of France. And
the "squabble" that had earlier sent Louis to prison turned
out to be his attempt to take the throne. The following
year, my friend Louis was crowned King Louis XII of France.

	Well! You may think I digress, but as I said it is a
long story how I came to meet Leonardo. He was, after all in
Italy, and my story has not yet taken me out of France.
Allow me to continue.

	The year was 1498. Louis had just become Louis XII, and
he desired a new wife. From Rome was sent Cesare Borgia,
official emissary of his father, Pope Alexander VI, bearing
the annulment which would make Louis' first marriage
disappear. 
	Although these two men were remarkably different in
demeanor, temperament, and beliefs, they instantly struck up
a bond, a friendship. They would spend hours together
talking, making plans. They were often seen together at the
theatre or the opera. I would sometimes accompany them or
meet them there. Our social circles would often entwine.
	Frequently they would come to my house at the close of
the evening, along with other of our mutual acquaintances.
In fact, it was at my fireside that they hatched the plan to
invade Italy. 
	(At such times, I was grateful for LaCroix's insistence
that I learn Latin and his patience in teaching it to me. In
the days of my youth, a girl did not have a need for such
lessons. But in my maturity and my "vocation" I had every
need for being quick to learn new languages. Latin seemed to
be the key to unlocking many linguistic doorways.)
	Later that night, after the invasion plans were given
birth, as Cesare and I lay together in my bed, it was
decided I would also go to Italy. Yes, he and I had become
lovers. How can this be, you ask? Did he not know, did he
not guess what I am? Never! I told you, I was very cautious
in those days.
	Cesare was very different from any other man I had
known. He defied convention, and this touched my rebel's
heart. This was a great part of his charm. He spat in the
face of morals and rules, and yet he was able to befriend
men as kind and just as Louis. And he was drop-dead
gorgeous, as they say these days. 
	He was also completely trustworthy, in his way. If he
said he intended to kill you, you had better set your
affairs in order. And if he said he would die for you, that
was exactly what you could depend upon. He made such a vow
of loyalty to Louis. And then we started off for Italy.

	Milan. 1499. This is where I met Leonardo. This is also
where my association with Louis and Cesare came to a
temporary end, as they had a full-time job just conquering
the region. The exact details of the battle that broke out
when they entered Milan are insignificant to my story and
can all be had in any reputable history book. I am certain
that if you are interested, there would be a much more
accurate account than what I could offer. My views of mortal
history (although sometimes first-hand) are always somewhat,
shall we say slanted. I see what I want to see, as I am
certain you can understand.
	Leonardo. What can I say about Leonardo? He was one of
the most intelligent men I have ever met. A bit eccentric,
perhaps, as are all extremely intelligent individuals. They
have a bit of trouble relating to us common intellects. One
time I allowed myself to listen in on his thoughts, out of
curiousity. I was amazed and almost overwhelmed at all the
noise rattling around in that wonderful brain of his! It's
no wonder he seemed a bit distracted at times with all those
ideas going round in his head!
	Leonardo! He was in his late 40s when I met him. He
reminded me somewhat of my father, whom I had not thought of
in so many years. So many. My father, whom I had never quite
been able to please or make proud of me, as he had been
proud of my brothers. My father, who had arranged my
marriage which later failed, which is how I came to be in a
brothel in Paris, which is where I met LaCroix. My father
... but then, that is another story.

	Where was I? Ah yes, Leonardo. 

	He had been in the service of Duke Sforza in Milan. The
duke fled the country when Louis and Cesare's troops
invaded, as did many of the court. Both Louis and more
particularly Cesare knew of Leonardo as one of the great
artists and intellects of the region; in fact, of the time.
I was certain they had no intention of harming him, but
neither did they want him in the country at present. A
country at war has little need of the arts. Better he should
return later to build the monuments to the conquering
heroes.
	One of the last times I saw Louis was when he and
Cesare introduced me to Leonardo. From the first moment I
met Leonardo, I felt that he somehow knew everything about
me. It was most disconcerting. He had a keen eye, and a
rather annoying habit of staring. I later came to know that
he was such an ardent observer that he often would become so
intent on his subject as to have little regard for his or
her feelings. After all, his subject was often a tree, a
machine, or as I later came to know all too well, a corpse.
	He reminded me a little of LaCroix in the way that he
would observe silently for a time and then, when least
expected, would bring forth an extremely astute, often
impudent observation. His manner was not so cold as LaCroix,
however. Leonardo was in the world but not of it, if you
catch my meaning. LaCroix, on the other hand, is in the
world only when he chooses to be or has to be. He prefers to
keep his distance. It helps him keep perspective.

	But I am so sorry! I continue to digress. Please,
freshen your drink while I collect my thoughts.

	Hmmmm. The second time I saw Leonardo, I had sought him
out. I longed to learn more about him. I wanted to know if
my sense had been correct, that he had somehow discerned
that I was not quite -- normal. That I was something more
than human, or perhaps something less. He was packing,
preparing to leave, as ordered (or was it requested?) by
Louis. We sat and talked for a time, exchanging pleasantries
and getting acquainted. He told me that if only he had known
me a few years earlier, I should have modeled for a painting
he had just completed. 
	This had been the cause of the interest he had shown in
me. I could read in his thoughts that he had no suspicions
about my nature. He was only interested in me as a subject
for a painting. 
	Indeed, he became very animated in insisting that I
should pose for a portrait. It must be the very next day, as
soon as it was light! We must begin without delay, as he was
being forced to leave the region. I must admit I laughed out
loud at the prospect. In the daylight, imagine! If only he
could know how ridiculous that was, how out of the question.
	He frowned when I laughed at him and became more
insistent. I explained that it was quite impossible as I
never go out in the light of day. I claimed, as I often do,
that this was an eccentricity of mine. I explained that it
was my belief that the sun has a terrible aging effect on my
delicate skin, and I had vowed never to subject myself to
that abuse.

	You laugh! Hmmmph. But it works. You should try it.
Now, you know, we can blame the ozone or some such
environmental concern. It works much to our advantage.

	Anyway, his face and his manner suggested that he was
almost inclined to believe what I was saying to him -- but
not completely. And it did not stop him from imploring me to
sit for him. I could see that he must be mentally working
out the possibility that he would have to paint a portrait
by candle or fire light if he wanted to paint me, and I knew
that he would love to accept such a challenge. He was a
great problem solver and innovator. He loved a good fight,
and he always gave it everything he had.
	During the course of our conversation, I found out that
he was bound for Florence by way of Mantua and Venice. I
decided I wanted more of his company, I found him so very
interesting and charming. I told him that by happy
coincidence, I too was bound for Florence. I would be most
pleased if I could visit him again in Mantua and Venice and
Florence. 
	He suggested that we travel together. We could share a
coach. Surely this would not betray my vow to never go out
in the daylight. I must certainly travel by day, as no one
traveled by night. It was too unsafe. 
	I smiled at his insistence and his notions. How could
he know how very different our lives are from those of
mortal men? Hmmm.
	He was so demanding that I felt I could almost do as he
suggested. Why could I not travel by day? With dark curtains
on the coach ... But then the reality of it came thankfully
to bring me to my senses. What if I should fall asleep in
his company? What a shock that would be! I might even wake
up and find myself in a coffin, presumed dead and hastily
buried! Mon Dieu! I shudder at the thought!
	I thanked him most kindly for his offer, but made my
excuses that I did indeed travel by night. I would be fine.
I would meet him again in Mantua and Venice, then in
Florence. And I would be glad to sit for him, should he like
to paint my portrait. Only it must not be in the day.
	He stared at me for a long moment ... perplexed, I
could tell. Then, slowly, he smiled and nodded slightly.
<Well, then, dear lady> he said <I shall be most glad to see
you again and delighted that you will sit for me.>
	I was there in Mantua when he arrived. I had, of
course, chosen our faster mode of traveling by air and
arrived days ahead of him. He was amazed to learn I was
there before him. I did not bother to offer explanations as
I somehow desired to keep him curious. I sometimes indulge
that playful side of my nature. 
	It was in Mantua that he made a first sketch of me.
Indeed, I expressed some curiousity about the sketch and he
told me that he often made rough drawings of many varied
subjects. It sometimes helped him to gather his thoughts.
Today we would call it "doodling", but in those times paper
was a precious commodity. It seemed quite extravagant to
gather one's thoughts thus.
	On we went to Venice. I arrived there before him,
naturally -- or should I say un-naturally! Hmm Hmmm. Anyway,
the city was a delight. I had never seen anything quite like
it and I found it most interesting. Leonardo told me on the
first night I saw him in Venice that he would like to begin
my portrait. Or to at least experiment with pigments and
poses by candle light. I agreed.
	He filled the room with candles and built up the fire
very bright indeed. Then he began mixing his pigments. I
could see him at times frowning deeply, lost in thoughts.
Finally, towards midnight, he touched brush to canvas. Only
once. Then he stood back and stared at it, frowning again,
for a very long time.
	He moved the easel, moved some candles, moved my chair,
then began again. And again it was brush to canvas then
frowning and staring. 
	By then it had been hours. I felt ravenous hunger and I
told him that I must retire to my rooms for a refreshment. I
could return in an hour, if he would like to try again. 
	He snapped out of his thoughts and offered me wine and
bread. Couldn't I stay for just a while longer? He really
thought he was beginning to figure it all out.
	I thanked him sweetly, but told him I simply must have
some time to myself. I was sure he must understand that a
lady has needs to be attended to. He blushed slightly at
this, and I smiled behind my hand. He was so boyish in many
ways. A very charming trait.
	When I left him, I walked for some distance. Such a
beautiful evening. Cloudless and cool. Not many people about
at such a late hour. 
	Eventually I came upon a tavern open late in a rough
part of the city. I went in and encountered a very friendly
not-too-young man desirous of some company. I left with him
directly and in a nearby alleyway I sunk by eager fangs into
his filthy, chubby neck. The blood shimmered inside me and
warmed me, more so that he had been drinking heavily. It
made me giddy and very merry. 
	His life had been full but lately sad. I experienced it
all as I drained it from him, then I disposed of the body. I
walked around for a while longer, delighting in the beauty
of the night and remembering the experiences I had shared
through the taking of the blood. 
	Eventually I went back to Leonardo. 
	When I re-entered his rooms, I found him sitting
sullenly by the fire. As I walked in, he looked at me as if
I were some creature he had never seen before. I was
instantly struck with a fear I had not known, and I searched
his thoughts for the reason of it. 
	It seems he had followed me when I left his rooms. Not
exactly intending to spy on me, but he merely happened to be
walking in the same direction, at not too great a distance
behind me. He had seen me enter and then leave the tavern.
Curiousity had forced him to follow me and the man into the
alleyway where he had seen what he should never have seen. 
	He saw me take the blood and take the life and dispose
of the remains.
	<Be at ease> I told him, sensing his fear. <I will not
harm you. I can make you forget what you have seen. You must
forget. No mortal can know about us.>
	He stared at me, bolder now. His scientific mind was
aroused at the prospect of a discovery such as no one else
had ever made. <Do not, I pray you, make me forget. I wish
to remember, to know more about you. What you are and where
you came from. Tell me, please, so that I may understand.>

	I see you are shocked at what you are hearing. Believe
me, I was shocked as well. Even more so when I tried to
erase his memories of the events and found I could not! Yes,
Leonardo was one of those rare mortals whose thoughts cannot
be penetrated by us, or at least by me. Perhaps one older
and more experienced ... such as LaCroix ... would have been
able to deal with it, but he was not there and I was not
able to do so.
	And now you are truly appalled. Allow me to continue my
story. It gets still more interesting.

	Since I was not able to erase the events of the evening
from his thoughts, Leonardo began to weary me with thousands
of questions about our kind. He wanted to know literally
everything that I knew about vampires. I knew that I would
have to kill him, and so I saw no harm in indulging what
amounted to his last wishes. I told him everything I knew or
had ever heard. Every truth or half-truth or suspected truth
poured forth from my lips. Occasionally I would again try to
mesmerize him and gain control of his mind, but I could not.
It was more the contrary, as though he had control of my
mind!
	Then, after he was silent for a few thoughtful moments,
he spoke. <But the bodies, signora. What a waste to simply
dispose of them!>
	I could see he recognized my amazement at this comment.
	<What I mean, signora, is that I have often desired to
know how the heart beats and the blood flows. Do you not
wonder? If one could only study and examine the heart, to
actually see it beating. To see the veins that the blood
flows through. Perhaps even to see that blood flowing. What
a wondrous machine this body is! Have you never seen a
beating heart, signora? Seen it as it beats its last? What a
wonder that would be! You, who find the beating heart so
essential to your survival and yet you have never seen the
thing.>
	I began to suspect that he meant to try and strike some
kind of bargain with me. It was his tone and his manner. He
was charming me as I might have tried to charm him, to gain
his trust, and then prey upon him. I began to fear where
this was leading. 
	He continued. What he proposed was appalling to me and
even, perhaps, a little depraved. He would keep my secret,
he vowed, but it would not be without cost. He must be
allowed to ... examine ... and study ... the remains. 
	So much for my extreme caution! All was lost, it
seemed. How was I to escape from this web he was weaving? I
did not desire to kill him. You will recall that I feel the
world is a much better place with the really great men
allowed to live in it. Leonardo was a really great man. A
bit odd, perhaps even macabre. But it could not be denied
that he was a great man and destined for great things.
	I decided to indulge him.

	Now I know you cannot believe your ears. I see the look
on your face. I know. It is not to be allowed. And yet, I
did allow it! I hesitate to tell you for just how long I
allowed it to continue. Let us simply say that some of the
dates attributed to Leonardo's anatomical studies are ...
inaccurate. 
	You may know that the details about where he obtained
the cadavers for these studies have always been subject to
speculation. Well, I can only say that for the two years our
association continued -- from that night in Venice, on to
his home of Florence, until his return to Milan -- I ...
shall we say ... kept him ... busy. 
	He filled notebook after notebook with sketches of the
internal workings of the human body. Sometimes he would lose
patience with his inability to understand what he was
seeing. He wanted not only to chronicle, but to interpret
and explain what was what, and what it all meant. His
insight put him years ... decades! ... ahead of conventional
scientific discovery. He had no interest in making his
notebooks public, however. It seemed to be enough for him to
have the knowledge for himself. 
	On one occasion I saw him, in a fit of frustration,
toss an entire notebook into the fire. Weeks of work were
destroyed. He paced and swore and finally sat before the
fire watching the curling embers of the pages turning into
ash before his eyes. I remember touching him lightly on the
shoulder, reassuring him, telling him that perhaps we could
begin again.
	That was the night he finished my portrait. He had only
barely begun it, as you recall, when we began our grisly
joint venture into scientific studies. Well, he painted
constantly that night, with wild, stabbing brush strokes. He
was as a man possessed. 
	Just before dawn, he threw down his brush and threw
himself into a chair before the last coals of the dying
fire. He completely ignored me and I believe that he perhaps
dozed or collapsed then. I quietly crept around to catch a
glimpse of the portrait and was amazed at what I saw. 
	He painted me as he no doubt saw me. Not as the mirror
showed me, but more than any mirror could show. And less.
What I saw was a heartless, bloodless fiend of the night.
Beautiful and yet horrible. Appearing human, yet not human.
A woman, yet not a woman. I could see in the work that he
despised me for what I was. And loved me for it. 
	It was then that I knew our association must end. I
knew I had to leave him. If I did not leave, one of us would
have to die. I did not intend for that one to be me. He did
not know where I slept, but I knew that he could find out if
he wanted to. And in learning the location of my lair, he
would be able to dispatch me to hell if he should choose to
do so.
	I fooled myself in thinking I was still cautious, as I
have said I was in that era. But I had become careless in my
close association with Leonardo. Whenever we allow ourselves
to become close to a mortal, we take our lives in our hands.
After all, they can go about in the day when we cannot. They
can find us where we rest, so helpless. And if they choose
to do so they can destroy us then. 
	I knew it was time for me to move on.

	I never saw Leonardo again after that night. I left
Florence and never returned. I did go back to Cesare for a
time. I had missed him, and as he was the Duke of Romagna
now, things had settled down for him considerably. 
	He was as fiery as ever and I greatly enjoyed his
company. I found that this time was different with him,
though. He began to be suspicious about me. About what I
was. About what made me different from other women. It seems
that my closeness with Leonardo had destroyed some barrier
that I put up between myself and mortals. Or perhaps Cesare
was simply being more attentive to me now. Or more cautious.
	Regardless of the reason, I knew that I must leave
Cesare and never return to him. I made my excuses to him on
our last night together. As I packed later that night, a
knock came at my door. When I went to open it, I found my
portrait by Leonardo sitting in the doorway. No one was
there and neither could I sense the presence of anyone,
whether mortal or vampire. It was as if the portrait had
brought itself to my door, intending not to be left behind.
	I packed it carefully, gratefully, and then set out to
rediscover myself once again. 
	I kept it with me as you know for centuries until I saw
fit to leave it to LaCroix as a sign of my love and faith. A
message to him and to Nicola that they would not see me
again soon. A thing to remember me by, should they choose to
remember me at all.

	And so! Now you know. It was a rather amusing tale to
fill an hour before dinner, is that not so? 
	In the eternity that stretches before you, I am certain
you will have opportunities to shape the future of mankind.
Be most prudent! May you be so lucky as I was with Leonardo.
May you be more cautious and wise. And always heed your
master while you are young. Do not be too headstrong when
... and if ... you seek your independence. Remember we must
be ever vigilant in concealing our existence from mankind. 
	Did Leonardo ever speak of our kind to any living
mortal? I do not believe so. No, I was never able to erase
his knowledge of what I was, nor was any vampire that I know
of. He guarded our secret as his own private treasure and
carried it with him to his grave. 

	Now come, let us away into the night. The hour grows
late and I am absolutely STARVING!"

## Finis ##
CousinCp
"What a wonderful thing humanity is: passionate, intelligent, inquisitive,
generous, 
full of hope and joy, noble of spirit, and above all, delicious!" LC/soundtrack