like him, represented the sun. That this was indeed an ancient shrine of Mithras was not in doubt: the image carved on one of the stones showed the god killing a bull, whose testicles were held in the claws of a scorpion, a typical depiction of Mithras. What was more, underground sites (always supposing that this place had been under the ground) were favoured by the worshippers of Mithras.
'We have found only the two large stones on which Dulcibeni places the tables he uses for his practices,' concluded Abbot Melani. 'Perhaps the remainder of the temple is at the bottom of the lake.'
'And how could that be?'
'With all these underground rivers, every now and then the terrain down here settles. You have seen it yourself. Underground, there are not only conduits, tunnels and galleries, but grottoes, caverns, great hollows, whole Roman palaces integrated into buildings of more recent centuries. The waters of the rivers and the sewers carve the ground out blindly and every now and then a grotto crumbles, another one fills with water, and so on. That is the nature of the subterranean city.'
I thought instinctively of the fissure which had opened in the wall of the staircase of the inn, a few days earlier, after we had heard a reverberation under the ground.
Ugonio was again showing signs of impatience. We decided to return the boat to the water and attempt to go back. Atto could not wait to see Ciacconio and to know the success or otherwise of his incursion into the house of Tiracorda. We again launched our humble vessel (which had fortunately suffered no significant damage) and prepared to return up the same narrow channel which had brought us to the subterranean Mithraeum.
Ugonio seemed in the worst of humour. Suddenly, just when we were about to embark, he jumped down from the boat and, raising a shower of gravel with his rapid little trot, returned to the island.
'Ugonio!' I called after him, astonished.
'Be quiet, he'll only be a moment,' said Atto Melani, who must have foreseen what the corpisantaro was about to do.
A few moments later, indeed, Ugonio returned and jumped agilely into the bark. He seemed relieved.
I was about to ask him what the deuce had called him back, when suddenly I understood.
'Insula iniquitable,' muttered Ugonio, speaking to himself.
He had freed the last rodent from its cage.
Our return through the suffocating channel that flowed into the lake was somewhat less dramatic but just as wearying as the outward journey. The going was made all the slower and more painful by our fatigue and the fact that we were moving upstream, however weak the current may have been. No one spoke and in the poop Atto and Ugonio pushed with poles while I held the lantern and provided a counterweight in the prow.
After a while, I wanted to break the heavy silence, relieved only by the viscous slopping of water in the canal.
'Signor Atto, concerning this matter of the movements provoked by underground rivers, something bizarre befell me.'
I told him that the astrological gazette which we had taken from Stilone Priaso had forecast for the month of September natural phenomena such as earthquakes and the like. A few days earlier, at exactly the time predicted, there had been heard in the bowels of the earth a sort of abysmal, menacing rumble and a fissure had appeared in the wall of the staircase. Was that only a fortuitous occurrence? Or did the author of the almanack know that in September phenomena of that nature were likely to take place?
'I can only tell you that I do not believe in such nonsense,' said Abbot Melani with a scornful little laugh, 'otherwise, I would have run to consult an astrologer to tell me the present, the past and the future. I do not believe that the fact of having been born on the 31st of March can…'
'Aries,' muttered Ugonio.
Atto and I looked at one another.
'Ah yes, I was forgetting that you are… that you understand these things,' said Atto, struggling to contain his laughter.
But the corpisantaro would not be intimidated. According to the great astrologer Arcandam, Ugonio imperturbably pronounced, the native of Aries, warm and dry in nature, will be dominated by wrath. He will be red- headed or fair and will almost always bear marks on his shoulders or on his left foot; he will have abundant hair, a thick beard, brightly coloured eyes, white teeth, well-formed jaws, a fine nose and large eyelids.
He will be observant and curious about the words and deeds of others and concerning every secret. His will be a studious, elevated, variable and vigorous spirit. He will have many friends. He will flee evil. He will be little inclined to illnesses, apart from the grave vexations caused him by headaches. He will be eloquent, solitary in his way of life, prodigal in necessary things: he will meditate upon fraudulent enterprises and will often employ threats. He will have good fortune in all kinds of wars as in negotiating all things.
In his early youth, he will be very contentious and choleric. He will suffer from inner irascibility which he will barely manifest. He will be a liar, and false; using soft words to cover dissimulation and lies, saying one thing and doing another, making marvellous promises but not keeping them. He will spend a part of his life in a position of authority. He will be avaricious and will therefore take care to acquire and to sell. He will be envious and therefore quick to anger, but even more, he will be envied by others, wherefore he will have many enemies and treacherous adversaries. As for misfortune, he may be beset by various calamities, so much so that he will not enjoy a single commodity without discommodiousness and peril for his property. He will possess a mutable inheritance, or he will soon lose what he had acquired and soon acquire what he had lost. But much wealth will be bestowed upon him.
He will make many voyages and will quit his country and his parents. From the age of twenty-three onwards, he will move on to better things and he will handle money. He will become rich at the age of forty and will attain a position of great dignity. He will succeed perfectly in whatever he undertakes; his good offices will be appreciated. He will not marry the woman who was first intended for him, but another whom he will love and from whom he will have noble sons. He will converse with ecclesiastics. In general, if he is born during the hours of daylight, he will be fortunate and held in great esteem by princes and lords. He will live to the age of eighty-seven years and three months.
Instead of mocking Ugonio, Atto and I listened to him in religious silence up to the end. Abbot Melani even left off using his boat-pole, while the corpisantaro humbly maintained his rhythm.
'Well, let us see,' reflected Atto. 'Wealthy, that is true. Skilful in negotiations, that is true. Fair-haired, at least until it went white, that is true. A great traveller, an observer of others' words and deeds: for sure. Fine eyes, white teeth, well-formed jaw, fine nose: yes, indeed. Eloquent, studious, elevated, variable and vigorous spirit: God forgive my immodesty, but that is not incorrect; on the contrary. What else? Ah yes, the esteem of princes, the company of prelates, and headaches. I do not know where our Ugonio fished up so much information from the sign of Aries, but it certainly is not all unfounded.'
I avoided asking Atto Melani whether he also recognised himself in avarice, irascibility, fraudulence, envy and recourse to lies and threats, as mentioned in the astrological portrait. And nor did I ask
Ugonio why, among the many defects of those born under the sign of Aries, vanity had been omitted. I also took care not to mention the prophecy concerning marriage and children, which were obviously precluded in the case of the abbot.
'You truly know many things about astrology,' I complimented the corpisantaro instead, recalling also his eloquent excursus into medical astrology a few nights previously.
'Perused, auscultated, verbalised.'
'Remember, young man,' interjected Abbot Melani, 'that in this holy city, every house, every wall, every single stone is imbued with magic, with superstition, with obscure hermetic knowledge. Our two monsters must have read a few manuals of astrological consultations-one can find them everywhere, so long as the matter is not spoken of out loud. Scandal is but an entertainment for bumpkins: remember the story of Abbot Morandi.'
It was at that moment that the sound of running water distracted us from our conversation: we had returned to the confluence with the main channel.
'Now we shall have to set to work with the oars,' said Atto, while our boat gave itself up to the far faster and more forceful waters of the underground river.
A moment passed, then we all looked at one another speechlessly. 'The oars,' said I. 'I think that we abandoned them when the trio of the Societas Orationis et Mortis made their appearance.'
I saw Atto glare resentfully at Ugonio, as though awaiting an explanation.
