“They come from Dandolo,” said one of the nobles, “bringing news of the war.”
“From Candia!” another exclaimed. “It cannot be that they have flown so far!”
But it was true, for upon reading they learned that the Venetian army had been victorious and the soldiers would soon sail home in triumph. The tiny birds had flown all the long leagues across the sea to carry the glad news to the waiting people.
Up in the hut in the Italian highlands Leonardo and his mother still watched and wondered, when one evening a few days later Armando, the village weaver, came by on his way home from the city. He was greatly excited and called to them as he stopped at the door.
“Rejoice,” he said, “for the war is over!”
“How do you know?” the mother asked. “Are the soldiers back?”
“No. But the pigeons brought the word, and every one is glad.”
“Pigeons!” exclaimed Leonardo. “My pigeons! Then after all I did something for Venice.”
And he spoke the truth. So much did the message mean to the anxious people, that the lawmakers said they would always keep the birds, they and their young and their children’s young. And although hundreds of years have passed since then, still the gray-winged creatures fly about St. Mark’s Square, and the people love and feed them. For they know they are descended from the pair sent to the Doge by a mountain boy, Leonardo’s pigeons, that long ago flew across the wide seas, bringing word of the victory of the Venetian hosts.