'Signor Atto, I no longer understand a thing,' said I, unable to control the trembling which had seized my limbs. We were now almost back at the inn, filthy and overcome by cold.
'Poor lad,' said Atto Melani pityingly. 'In a few nights, I have compelled you to learn half the history of France and of Europe. But it will all be useful! If you were already a gazetteer, you would have enough to keep you writing for the next three years.'
'But, in the midst of all these mysteries, even you no longer understand anything concerning our situation,' I dared retort, disconsolate and panting with fatigue. 'The more we struggle to understand, the more complicated matters become. This much I know: your sole interest is in understanding why the most Christian King had your friend Fouquet condemned twenty years ago. As for my little pearls, they are lost forever.'
'These days, everyone is curious about the mysteries of the past,' said Abbot Melani, calling me severely to order. 'This is because the present mysteries are too frightening. I and you shall, however, resolve both. That, I promise you.'
These words were, I thought, all too facile. I endeavoured to summarise for the abbot all that we had learned in six days of shared claustration at the Donzello. A few weeks earlier, Superintendent
Fouquet had come to our hostelry, in the company of two gentlemen. The first, Pompeo Dulcibeni, was familiar with the system of tunnels under the inn and used them to visit his fellow-countryman, the physician Tiracorda, who was at the present time caring for the Pope. Dulcibeni had, moreover, had a daughter by a Turkish slave, who had been stolen from him by a certain Huygens, backed by a man called Feroni, when Dulcibeni was in the service of the Odescalchi, in other words, the family of the Pope.
Fouquet's second companion, Robert Devize, was a guitarist whose relations with Maria Teresa, Queen of France, were not clear. He was a pupil of Francesco Corbetta, an intriguing personage who had written and, before dying, donated to Maria Teresa the rondeau which we so often heard Devize playing. The music sheet of this rondeau, however, bore a dedication to Mademoiselle, the cousin of the Most Christian King and wife of the Count of Lauzun. The latter had, for ten years, been the companion of Fouquet at Pinerol, before the Superintendent's death…
'You should say 'before his escape',' Atto corrected me, 'seeing that he died at the Donzello.'
'Correct. And then…'
'And then we have a Jesuit, a runaway Venetian, a harlot, a Neapolitan astrologer, a drunkard of a host, an English refugee and a physician from Siena: like all his colleagues, a murderer of defenceless Christians.'
'And the two corpisantari,' I added.
'Ah yes, the two monsters. And, last of all, we ourselves who are racking our brains while someone in the hostelry has the plague, bloodstained pages from the Bible are to be found in the galleries beneath the city, as well as phials full of blood and rats puking blood… too much blood, now that I come to think of it.'
'What does it all mean, Signor Atto?'
'A fine question. How many times must I repeat to you? Think of the crows and the eagle. And behave like an eagle.'
By that time, we were already climbing the stairs that led to the secret chamber in the Donzello; and soon after that, we separated, after giving each other an appointment for the morrow.
Day the Seventh
17th September, 1683
Even in those days overburdened with emotion, there would sometimes arise and keep turning in my mind an edifying maxim which the old lady who had so lovingly educated and instructed me was wont to chant, as one does with children: never leave a book half-read.
It was with that wise precept in mind that I decided, upon rising, to complete my reading of Stilone Priaso's astrological almanack. My scrupulous teacher was not mistaken: better not to open a book than to read it only in part, thus committing to memory a mere fragment, together with an erroneous judgement. Perhaps, I reflected, the remaining pages might enable me to gain a more balanced view of the obscure powers which I had hitherto attributed to that mysterious booklet.
Upon awakening, moreover, I felt less faint than on the preceding mornings; 1 had slept soundly and sufficiently, even after the carousel of stalking and spying and narrow escapes which had led us to follow Dulcibeni the whole way along gallery C until we came to the underground river; and, above all, after the surprising revelations concerning Devize (and his mysterious rondeau) which the abbot and I had discovered during our return to the inn.
My mind still refused to dwell upon that intricate story. Yet, now I found an opportunity to finish reading the gazette which the corpisantari had taken from Stilone Priaso, and which I still kept under the mattress of my little bed.
This small volume seemed to have predicted accurately the events of the past few months. Now, I wanted to know what the future held in store for us.
So 1 read the predictions for the third week of September, which would soon be upon us.
The Vaticinations which are to be conjectured from the Starres will, during this
Week, be given principally by Mercury, which will receive two Luminaries in its Domiciles and, being in the Third House, in Coniunction with the Sunne, promises Voyages undertaken by Princes, the Sending of voluminous Dispatches and divers Royall Embassies.
Jupiter and Venus conjoined seek to bring together in the Igneous Trine an Assembly of the Virtuous to treat of a League, or a Peace of great Importance.
My attention was drawn at once to 'Voyages undertaken by Princes, the Sending of voluminous Dispatches' and 'Royall Embassies' and no doubt remained in my mind: these must be the dispatches announcing the outcome of the battle for Vienna, which must by then have been decided.
Soon, indeed, a multitude of mounted messengers, perhaps despatched by the very sovereigns and princes who had taken part in the fray, would spread across Europe, bearing the verdict in three days to Warsaw, in five, to Venice, in eight or nine to Rome and Paris, and later still to London and Madrid.
Once again, the author of the almanack had found his mark: not only had he foreseen a great battle, but the frenetic spreading of the news on the morrow of the final clash.
And was not the 'Assembly of the Virtuous to treat of a League, or a Peace of great Importance' of which the Almanack spoke, the peace treaty which would surely be sealed between victors and vanquished?
I read on, coming to the fourth and last week of September:
Ill Tidings for the Sick may be received during this fourth Weeke of September, since the Sun rules the Sixth House and has given over the care of the Infirm to Saturn; hence, there shall reign Quartan Fevers, Fluxes, Dropsy, Swellings, Sciatica, Gout and Pain caused by the Stone. Jupiter, however, rules the Eighth House and will soon bring Health to many Patients.
There would, then, be other threats to health: fevers, disturbances in the circulation of the humours, excessive water on the stomach, pains in the bones, legs and bowels.
These were all grave threats; yet, according to the almanack, they were not insuperable. The worst was indeed still to come:
The first Tidings of this Weeke may be somewhat violent, for they will be sent by Mars, the Ruler of the Ascendant, who, being in the Eighth House, may cause us to hear of the Deathe of Men by Poyson, Steele or Fire. Saturn in the Sixth House, which rules over the Twelfth House, promises Deathe to certain enclosed Noblemen.
Upon reading those last words, I became breathless. I threw the gazette far from me and, with clasped hands, implored heaven's aid. Perhaps nothing that I had read in the course of my life so marked my soul as those few, cryptic lines.
'Violent' events were, then, brewing; such as 'the Death of Men by Poyson, Steele or Fire'. Death was destined for 'enclosed Noblemen': some of the guests at the Donzello were certainly noble and, for sure, all were 'enclosed' because of the quarantine!
