Imprimatur

'For as long as the Most Christian King's mania for conquest remains unassuaged,' insisted Brenozzi, 'there will be no peace in Europe. And do you know when that will come to pass? When the Imperial Crown shines on the head of the King of France.'

'You are, I imagine, referring to the Holy Roman Empire.'

'But of course! To become Emperor, that is what he wants! That is why France is so much at ease with the Turkish invasion: if they press on Vienna, the eastern flank of the Empire is broken while France expands into its western flank.'

'True! A pincer manoeuvre.'

'Precisely that.'

That was why, Brenozzi continued, when Innocent XI called upon the European powers to rally their forces against the Turks, the Most Christian King and first-born son of the Church refused to send troops, although he was begged to do so by all Christian leaders. Louis XIV had even tried to impose upon the Emperor in Vienna an odious agreement: making his neutrality conditional upon recognition of the conquests such as Alsace and Lorraine gained by his banditry on the western borders of the Habsburg Empire.

'He even had the gall to describe his claims as 'moderate'. Yet, the Emperor, although up to his neck in trouble, did not acquiesce. Now the Most Christian King is abstaining from hostilities: and do you think that is out of scruple? No! It is a tactical decision. He is waiting until Vienna is exhausted. Then he will be able to resume his invasions with all ease. Already, at the end of August, it was being said that the French troops were on a war footing.'

If only Brenozzi could have read on my face the grave thoughts which these words inspired! Perched above the pair and eavesdropping on their conversation, I was biting on a bitter pill: to what manner of monstrous sovereign had Atto Melani sworn his services? I could not deny that I had grown inexorably attached to the abbot; and despite all the ups and downs between us, I had not yet ceased to regard him as my master and guide.

Thus, yet again the victim of my own mania for investigation and the discovery of knowledge, I found myself condemned to learn nolens volens things of which I would have preferred never to hear a word breathed.

'Ah, but that is nothing,' added Brenozzi with a viperous hiss. 'Have you heard the latest news? Now the Turks are protecting the French merchant fleet from pirates. So now trade with the Orient is in the hands of the French.'

'And what will the Turks gain in exchange?' asked Stilone.

'Oh, nothing,' sneered Brenozzi ironically, 'perhaps only… victory in Vienna.'

Hardly had the inhabitants barricaded themselves within the city, explained Brenozzi, than the Turks excavated a network of trenches and tunnels which went under the walls and placed very powerful mines, several times breaching the fortifications. Now, this was the very technique of which the French engineers and sappers were past masters.

'You are saying, in other words, that the French are in league with the Turks,' concluded Priaso.

'It is not I who am affirming that; this was the opinion of the military experts in the Christian camp in Vienna. The armies of the Most Christian King had learned the art of using trenches and tunnels from two soldiers in the service of Venice, during the defence of Candia. The secret then reached Vauban, a military engineer in the service of the Most Christian King. Vauban perfected it: vertical trenches, with which to bring mines forward, and horizontal trenches to move troops from one point to another in the camp. This is a deadly stratagem: hardly has the right breach been made than the troops enter the besieged city. Now, suddenly, the Turks have become masters of this technique, in Vienna. Do you think that is a coincidence?'

'Speak more softly,' warned Stilone Priaso. 'Do not forget that Abbot Melani is just next door to us.'

'Ah yes, that French spy who's no more an abbot than Count Donhoff. You are right. Let us leave off here,' said Brenozzi, and after exchanging salutations, the two withdrew.

Now other long shadows were being cast over Atto. What was the meaning of that observation which aimed a shot at some unknown personage? While closing the window, I turned over in my mind the matter of Melani's ignorance of the Bible. Curious, I thought, for an abbot.

'Guitar, salt and cat,' laughed Cloridia, much amused. 'Now we have something better.'

I had tidied up the kitchen with only one thought in my mind: to return to her. Brenozzi's grave statements surely called for a later confrontation with Abbot Melani: but the night was there for such matters, when he himself would come to my door to lead me back into the underground galleries. I had hurriedly brought their victuals to the other prisoners, using various pretexts to leave those who, like Robleda and Devize, tried to retain me. It was, however, far more urgent that I should once again be able to enter into colloquy with the fair Cloridia, and this I did with the excuse that I wanted to interpret the second curious dream I had had since the doors of the inn had been sealed by the hand of the Bargello's men.

'Let us begin with the scattered salt,' said Cloridia, 'and I warn you that it is not a good sign. It means assassination, or opposition to our designs.'

She read the disappointment on my face.

'But each case must be carefully weighed up on its own merits,' she added, 'because it is not said that this meaning refers to the dreamer. In your dream, for instance, it could refer to Devize.'

'And the guitar?'

'It means: great melancholy, or work without recognition: like that of a peasant who labours all the year round without ever gaining any satisfaction. Or an excellent painter, or architect, or musician, whose work no one knows and who is always neglected. You see that it is almost synonymous with melancholy.'

I was deeply upset. Two rather bad symbols in the same dream, to which, Cloridia announced, a third was to be added.

'The cat is a very clear sign: adultery and lust,' she declared.

'But I have no wife.'

'For the exercise of lust, matrimony is not necessary,' retorted Cloridia, maliciously twisting a tress of her hair on her cheek, 'and as for adultery, remember: every sign must be carefully valued and weighed up.'

'But how? If I am not married, I am a bachelor and that is that.'

'But then you really know absolutely nothing,' Cloridia gently reproved me. 'Dreams can also be interpreted in a manner completely opposed to their appearance. Thus, they are infallible, because one can just as easily conjecture the pro and the contra.'

'But if that is so, a dream can mean everything and its contrary…' I objected.

'You think so?' she replied, arranging the tress behind her neck and, with a wide circular movement of her arms, raising the round and firm cupolas of her breasts.

She sat upon a stool, leaving me standing.

'Please,' said she, untying a velvet ribbon ornamented with a cameo, which she kept tied around her neck, 'be so kind as to adjust this properly, for I cannot manage with the mirror. Place it a little lower, but not too much. Do it gently, my skin is so delicate.'

As though it was necessary to facilitate my task, she spread her arms wide behind her head, thus exposing immoderately the bosom which spilled from her decolletage, a hundred times more flowery than the meadows of the Quirinale and a thousand times more perfect than the dome of Saint Peter's.

Seeing me colour at the sudden spectacle, Cloridia took the opportunity to evade my objection. She continued imperturbably, while I busied myself around her neck.

'Some hold that dreams which precede sunrise relate to the future; those which come while the sun is rising refer to the present, and those which follow the sun's appearance concern the past. Dreams are surer in summer and in winter than in autumn and spring, and at sunrise, rather than at any other hour of day. Others claim that dreams made at Advent or the feast of the Annunciation augur solid and lasting things; while those which occur on moveable feasts (such as Easter) designate variable things, on which one may not count. Yet others… Ouch! no, that will not do, it is too tight. How come your hands are trembling?' she asked with a cunning little smile.

'Really, I have almost done it, I did not mean…'

'Calm down, calm down, we have all the time that we want,' she winked, seeing that I had failed to tie the knot for the fifth time. 'Yet others,' resumed Cloridia, uncovering her neck unduly and raising her breasts even closer to my hands, 'say that in Bactriana there is a stone called Eumetris which, if placed under the head during sleep, will convert dreams into solid and certain predictions. Some utilise only chemical preparations: perfume of mandrake and myrtle, water of verbena and powdered laurel leaves applied behind the head. But there are also