'Aries also distractable,' said Ugonio in his defence, trying to shift the blame for the loss of the oars to the abbot.
The little bark, now a helpless prey to the current, began to accelerate remorselessly. All attempts to use the poles to slow down our progress proved useless.
For a brief passage, we proceeded down the river; soon, however, a confluent poured in from the left, provoking a wave which compelled us to hold on tight to our poor piece of wood in order not to be thrown out. The roaring of the waters had grown ever louder and more overwhelming; the walls of the channel offered no hold. No one dared open his mouth.
Ugonio tried to use the cord which he had brought with him to hook onto any outcrop in the walls, but the bricks and stones that made these up were completely smooth.
Suddenly, I remembered that, on our outward journey, the corpisantaro had, however enigmatically, explained the reason why, when we came to the fork that led to the lake, he had not wished to proceed along the main channel.
'Did you not say that this river 'misodours'?' I asked him.
He nodded. 'It misodours with the foulestest of fetidness.'
Suddenly, we found ourselves in the midst of a sort of aquatic crossroads: from the left and from the right, two equal and contrary confluents hurled themselves with even greater force into our river.
That was the beginning of the end. The little bark, reeling drunkenly from that convolution of confluents, began to turn on itself, at first slowly and then vertiginously. We clung now, not only to the boat but to one another. The rotation soon made us lose our sense of direction, so that for a moment I had the absurd sensation of moving upstream, towards salvation.
Meanwhile a deafening roar drew ever nearer. The only reference point was our lamp which, with the greatest of difficulty, Atto continued to hold up, as though the fate of the world depended on it; around that point of light, everything spun madly. We seemed almost to be flying, I thought, transported by fear and vertigo.
That thought came true. Under the boat, the waters vanished, as though a magnetic force had raised us up and was about to deposit us mercifully upon the sands of salvation. For a brief and insane moment, I remembered the words of Padre Robleda about Kircher's Universal Magnetism, which comes from God and holds all things together.
But suddenly a blind, colossal force crashed against the bottom of the bark, throwing us from it at the same instant, and all became dark. I found myself in the water, drawn through icy, malignant eddies, lapped by filthy, disgusting foam, screaming with terror and despair.
We had gone over a waterfall, plummeting into an even more fetid and disgusting river. Not only had the impact with the water capsized the boat, but our lamp was lost. Only from time to time could I touch bottom with my feet, perhaps because here and there lay some large outcrop. Had that not been the case, I should surely have drowned. The stench was unbearable and my lungs were filled only by my panting from weariness and fear.'Are you alive?' yelled Atto in the dark, while the roar of the cascade hammered at our ears.
A large blunt object struck me in the chest, leaving me breathless.
'Hold on, hold on to the boat, it is here between us,' said Atto.
Miraculously, I managed to grasp the edge of the bark, while the current continued to drag us along.
'Ugonio,' screamed Atto again, with all the breath that remained to him, 'Ugonio, where are you?'
We were only two now. Certain at this moment that we were going to our death, we let ourselves be led by that poor wreck, floating in the midst of stinking fluids and other indescribable faecal waste.
'It misodoureth… now I understand.'
'Understand what?'
'This is not just any channel. It is the Cloaca Maxima, the biggest sewer in Rome, built by the ancient Romans.'
Our speed increased again, and, going by the sound, we knew that we were in a broad conduit the vault of which was rather low, perhaps hardly enough for the capsized hull of our little bark to pass. Now the roar of the waters had diminished, as we drew away from the waterfall.
Suddenly, however, the boat came to a stop. The vault was too low and had caused our poor craft to run aground in a comical, capsized position. Somehow, I managed to hold onto the edge. I raised an arm and felt with horror how close and oppressive was the roof of the vault. The air was dense and fetid: breathing had become almost impossible.
'What shall we do?' I panted, struggling desperately to keep my lips above the surface of the waters.
'There is no way back. Let us go with the current.'
'But I cannot swim.'
'I neither. But the water is dense, one has but to keep afloat. Lie on your back and try to keep your head erect,' said he, spitting to cleanse his lips. 'Move your arms a little from time to time, but do not struggle or you will sink.'
'And then what?'
'We shall emerge somewhere.'
'And what if, before that, the vault closes in completely?'
He did not reply.
Almost at the limit of our strength, we let ourselves be borne by the waves (if that disgusting mire could be so called) until my prophecy came true. The current again speeded up, as though we were on a slope; the air was so rarefied that I alternated long periods of holding my breath with sudden, agitated intakes; the foul gases thus inhaled provoked pains in my head and violent dizziness. It felt as though a remote and powerful whirlpool was about to swallow us.
Suddenly, the top of my head struck the roof of the gallery. The current ran even faster. This was the end.
I was about to vomit. Yet somehow I held back, as though at last about to obtain liberation and, with it, peace. Strangled, yet very close, I heard Atto's voice one last time.
'Alas, so it really is true,' he murmured to himself.
Day the Ninth
19th September, 1683
'Look, look here. This one is young.'
Hands and eyes of merciful angels were caring for me. I had come to the end of a long voyage. I, however, was no more: my body must have been elsewhere, while I enjoyed the beneficent warmth which heaven radiates upon all good souls. I waited to be shown the way.
A few timeless instants passed, then the hands of one of the angels gently prodded me. Light, indistinct murmurs were gradually awakening me. I could at last catch a droplet of that sweet celestial colloquy: 'Search the other one better.'
A few fleeting but perhaps eternal moments later, I understood that the winged celestial messengers had temporarily left me. Perhaps, for the time being, I no longer needed their charitable assistance. I then opened myself to the divine light which benign heaven extended over and around me and other poor wandering souls.
Contrary to all expectations, I still had eyes to see, ears to hear and flesh with which to feel the warm and holy dawn which utterly pervaded me. So I raised my eyelids and before me appeared the divine symbol of Our Lord, used centuries ago by the first Christians: a magnificent silver fish, which observed me benevolently.
At last, I looked up towards the light, but I had at once to raise my hand and cover my eyes.
It was day and I was under the sun, lying on a beach.
I soon understood that I was alive, although not in the best of condition. I sought in vain the two angels (or whatever they were) who had busied themselves about me. My head ached terribly and my eyes could not bear the light of day. Suddenly, I realised that I barely able to rise to my feet. My knees shook and the mud on which I walked threatened to make me to slip perilously.
