If ever I had needed another proof that the almanack (the work of the Devil!) foretold events, here I had it: it spoke of us, cloistered in the Donzello by the pestilence, and of the death of certain gentlemen among us.
Violent death, and by poison: and had not Superintendent Fouquet perhaps been poisoned?
I knew that a good Christian must not yield to despair, even when his plight is most tragic. I would, however, be lying if I were to pretend that I faced these unheard-of revelations with manly dignity. Never had I felt myself so abandoned, despite my foundling's condition, in thrall to stars which, for who knows how many centuries, perhaps since their course began, had determined my destiny.
Overcome by terror and desperation, I grasped the old rosary which I had received as a gift from the pious woman who had raised me, kissed it passionately and pocketed it. I recited three paternosters and realised that, in my fear of the stars, I had entertained doubts about divine providence, which every Christian should acknowledge as his sole guide. I felt a burning need to purge my soul and to receive the comfort of the Faith: the time had come for Confession before God; and, thank heaven, there was in the hostelry someone who could help me.
'Well, come in my son, you are right to cleanse your soul at a time as difficult as this.'
As soon as he had heard the reason for my visit, Robleda welcomed me to his little chamber with great benevolence. The secret of Confession melted my heart and loosed my tongue and I honoured the sacrament with ardour and commitment.
Once he had given me absolution, he asked me the origin of so many sinful doubts.
Without mentioning the almanack, I reminded Robleda that a while before, he had spoken to me of the predictions concerning the
Angelic Pope and this conversation had caused me to meditate long on the topic of fate and predestination. During the course of these cogitations, the thought had come to me that some held all sublunary things to be determined by the influence of the stars, so that such events could be adequately foretold. I knew that the Church rejected such views, which indeed belonged among the doctrines to be condemned. Yet, the physician Cristofano had assured me that astrology could do much for medical practice, and was therefore a good and useful thing. That was why, torn between such conflicting views, I had thought to ask Robleda to enlighten and counsel me.
'Bravo, my boy, we must always turn to Mother Church when confronting the many and various uncertainties of existence. I can understand that, here in this hostelry, with such comings and goings of travellers, you should have heard speak of the illusions which soothsayers, astrologers and necromancers of all sorts spread among simple souls. You must not listen to such chatter. There exist two forms of astrology, one false and one true. The first sets out, on the basis of men's date of birth, to foretell the events in their lives and their future behaviour. This is a false and heretical doctrine, which, as you know, has long been forbidden. There is, however, a good and true astrology, the aim of which is to investigate the power of the stars through the investigation of nature, for the purpose, not of prediction, but the accumulation of knowledge. And if one thing is absolutely certain, it is that the stars do influence things here on earth.'
In the first place, declared Robleda, glad of the opportunity to hold forth and to show off his science, we have the ebb and flow of the tides, known to all and caused by the mysterious influence of the moon. Likewise, mention should be made of the metals in the deep bowels of the earth, reached neither by the light nor the heat of the sun, and which must therefore be produced thanks to the influence of the stars. Many other experiences, too, (which he could have listed ad abundantiam) would be difficult to explain without admitting the intervention of celestial influences. Even that modest little plant, penny-royal (or Menthapulegium), according to Cicero in De Divinatione, flowers only at the winter solstice-on the shortest day of the year. Other demonstrations of the power of heavenly bodies over bodies terrestrial could be drawn from meteorology: the rising and setting of the seven stars situated at the head of the constellation of Taurus, which the Greeks called the Hyades, are usually accompanied by abundant rainfall. And what can be said of the animal kingdom? It is well known that, with the waxing and waning of the moon, oysters, crabs and other similar creatures lose vital energy and vigour. What Cristofano had said was, moreover, true: Hippocrates and other highly skilful physicians knew that dramatic shifts took place in the progression of illnesses at the solstices and equinoxes. All of this was, said the Jesuit, in accordance with the teaching of the angelic doctor, Saint Thomas, and with that of Aristotle, in the Meteora, and was confirmed by many other philosophers, including Domingo Soto, Iavello, Dominique Bagnes, and I could have learned far more, had I read The True and False Astrology, a wise and truthful volume by his brother Jesuit Giovanni Battista Grassetti; which had gone to press only a few months previously.
'But if, as you say, good astrology is not in conflict with the Christian religion,' I objected, 'then there must exist a Christian astrology.'
'And it does indeed exist,' replied Robleda, now indulging himself in the display of his own knowledge, 'and it is a pity that I do not have with me the Enriched Christian Zodiac or the Twelve Signs of Divine Predestination, a work of the purest doctrine and the product of the ingenuity of my brother Jeremiah Drexel, published in this holy city some forty years ago.'
In that volume, explained Robleda, the twelve signs of the astrological tradition were at last replaced by as many symbols of the One True Religion: a burning candle, a skull, a golden ciborium of the Eucharist, a bare, unveiled altar, a rosebush, a fig tree, a tobacco plant, a cypress, two lances conjoined with a crown of olive leaves, a scourge, with fasces, an anchor and a shield.
'And would these be the signs of the Christian zodiac?' I inquired, full of wonderment.
'More than that: each of these is the symbol of the eternal values of the Faith. The burning candle represents the inner light of the immortal soul, as it is written Lucerna pedibus meis verbum tuum et lumen semitis meis, the cranium symbolises meditation upon death, the golden ciborium represents the frequency of Confession and Communion, the altar… Look, you have dropped something.'
In drawing the rosary from my pocket, some of the leaves found by Ugonio and Ciacconio, which I kept in the same pocket, had fallen to the ground.
'Oh, it is nothing,' I lied. 'It is… a curious spice which they gave me at the market on the Piazza Navona a few weeks ago.'
'Give it to me,' quoth Robleda, almost tearing one of the leaves from my hand. He turned it over several times in his hand, visibly astonished.
'How curious,' said he, at length. 'I wonder how it came to be here.'
'Why?'
'It is a plant that does not grow in Europe. It comes from far overseas, from Peru in the Western Indies.'
'And what is it called?'
'Mamacoca.'
Padre Robleda then told me the surprising story of mamacoca, an unusual little plant which was to have much importance in the events of the days that followed.
In the beginning, he informed me, when the Western Indies were conquered and the local savages (followers of false religions and cultivators of blasphemy) duly subjugated, no sooner had the Jesuit missionaries undertaken the holy work of evangelisation than they passed at once to the study of the innumerable varieties of plants of the New World. It was an endless universe: while the ancient and authoritative Materia Medica of Dioscurides mentioned some three hundred plants in all, the physician Francisco Hernandez had in the seventeen volumes of his Historia Natural de las Indias counted over three thousand plant species.
In the midst of all these marvellous discoveries, grave dangers were however concealed. It was in fact impossible for the colonists to distinguish between plants and drugs, between infusions and poisons, and, in the native population, between physicians and necromancers. The villages abounded in wizards who swore that, through the power of herbs and roots, they could raise the Demon or foretell the future.
'Like the astrologers!' I exclaimed, hoping to discover some connection with the events which had taken place at the Donzello.
'No, no, astrology has nothing to do with this,' replied Robleda, disappointing my hopes. 'I am speaking of far graver matters.'
According to the magicians, it seems, every single plant could be used in two ways: to cure an illness or to see the Devil. And in the Indies, there seemed to abound plants suited to the second purpose.
Donanacal (thus, Padre Robleda seemed to me to pronounce the exotic name), which the Indians called the 'wonder mushroom' was held to be able to bring about communication with Satan. The same suspicion hung over oliuchi seeds and another mushroom known as peyote. A plant called pate was used by the magicians to listen to
