“I am a scientist, a mathematician, an engineer, an inventor,an anatomist, a sculptor, an architect and, yes, absolutely, also a painter.”
“Good. Now, with your permission, let’s get to the point without going in circles. Tell me please, wise man from Vinci—have you ever loved a woman in your life?”
“Not really…” Leonardo replied, and many eyebrows were lifted in the audience. Could Heart have possibly fallen into a trap? Could it be that he called a witness—to testify how glorious love is—who never experienced love himself? Impossible.
Heart granted half a smile, giving him a sly look. “A universal genius such as yourself, could you please explain to us—what is life without love? And, in general, from your experience, in your opinion, what would a world without love be like?”
It now became clear where Heart was leading to with such self-assurance. Leonardo da Vinci had won a unique place in the chronicles of mankind as a man well-versed in most of the fields of science. In other words, what he might say now would carry tremendous weight with the judges. Yiftach pursed his lips and thought intently about his line of questioning.
“Let me say this,” the wise man from Vinci stated, “love is that feeling which gives meaning to life, a feeling without which life is meaningless.”
Heart was overjoyed. “And now I put the question to you, Your Honors,” he looked directly at the panel of judges, “do we want a life that is void of love? Thank you, Leonardo da Vinci, I have no further questions. Your witness, young lad,” he addressed Yiftach in a mocking, triumphant voice.
Yiftach approached the bearded man. “I am confused,” he said. “To the best of my understanding, you were called here as a key witness—whose testimony can carry decisive weight—in order to describe to us how the life of a man who never loved another being looks like.” Heart nodded with satisfaction. “You explained to us,” Yiftach continued, “and correct me if I’mwrong, that a life without love is a meaningless life.” Yiftach scratched his head. “That’s strange… because there is no one here that believes that your life—Leonardo da Vinci—was a meaningless life. Moreover, you were asked to describe the life of a man who never loved a woman, yet you described it from the perspective of a man who did love someone else at some time and, therefore, you are unable to tell us how life without love might be. This brings me to conclude that the statement that you never loved another person is, at the very least, not precise.”
“Haa... are you trying to tell us that the incomparable Leonardo da Vinci is not telling the truth?” Heart asked derisively.
“No, that is certainly out of the question,” Yiftach admitted, then went on. “When my colleague Heart questioned the witness standing behind the stand, he asked him if he had ever loved a woman—and the witness answered in the negative. However, he did not ask the witness if he had ever loved a man, is that not so?” Yiftach looked at da Vinci.
The artist shrugged his shoulders, as one for whom nothing is more important than the truth. “Yes, that is correct,” he answered.
“In that case, Sir, with whom were you in love, if I may ask?”
“With Gian Giacomo Caprotti, my assistant. I even documented our love in several of my works.”
“In other words, if we seek to hear testimony regarding a life void of love from a man who never knew what love is—then you aren’t exactly the right person for that, are you?”
“You are perfectly correct, young man,” Leonardo replied.
Now it was Yiftach’s turn to give Heart a mocking and triumphant look.
Chapter Nineteen
“And the chiefs of all the people, even of all the
tribes of Israel, presented themselves in the
assembly of the people of God, four hundred
thousand footmen that drew sword.”
Book of Judges, 20:2
The defendant smiled at Melody condescendingly while Yiftach was lost in a daydream, imagining Love standing before a firing squad. He envisioned fourteen officers standing in a row, ready for the execution order. The squad commander approaches the condemned woman and covers her eyes with a piece of red cloth.
“I’d rather you didn’t cover my eyes,” Love tells him.
“Unfortunately, that is not an option,” he answers her.
She stands before the executioners with her eyes covered, wondering if truly everything is about to end. The commander reviews his soldiers closely.
“Ready!” he orders, and they lift their rifle butts to their shoulders.
“Aim!” Love doesn’t move and, in her heart, she still hopes that this is nothing but an exercise that will soon end.
“Fire!”
Pillars of smoke twirl skyward from the rifles and the sound of the accompanying explosions are heard far and wide.
