the fallacious oracles of the Inferno.
The Inquisition therefore decided to burn all the fields cultivated with forbidden plants, along with, from time to time, a few magicians. But the fields were too extensive and the magicians too numerous.
'Fears arose for the integrity of Christian doctrine!' whispered Robleda, his voice burdened with concern, waving the leaf of mama-coca under my nose as though to put me on guard against the Evil One.
Because of these accursed plants, the tale resumed, even converted and baptised savages blasphemed against the holy name of the doctors of the Church. Some of these held that Saint Bartholomew had travelled to America for the sole purpose of discovering plants possessed of miraculous powers, and that Saint Thomas had also preached in Brazil, where he had found trees, the leaves of which were mortal poison, but that he had toasted these on fire and had transformed them into a wonder-working medicine. The natives converted to our faith then used a number of potent drugs during prayer: something obviously prohibited by doctrine. In sum, new heresies spread, which were both unusual and most pernicious.
'There were even those who taught new gospels,' said Robleda in a trembling voice, returning the little leaf to me with an expression of disgust, as though it were pestiferous. 'In these blasphemous gospels,' he continued, crossing himself, 'it was said that Christ, as soon as he attained manhood, had been compelled to flee because the devils had attacked him in order to steal his soul. Mary, when she returned home and did not find her son, mounted a donkey and set out in search of him. Soon, however, she lost her way and entered a forest where, out of hunger and desperation, she felt herself growing ever more faint. Jesus saw her in that state and came to her aid: he blessed a mamacoca bush which grew nearby. The donkey was drawn to that bush and would not leave it; thus, Mary understood that it had been blessed for her. She chewed a few leaves and, as if by a miracle, felt neither hunger nor weariness. She continued on her way until she came to a village where some women offered her food. Mary replied that she was not hungry and showed the blessed branch of mamacoca. She handed a leaf to the women, saying: 'Sow this, it will put forth roots and a bush will grow.' The women did as Mary had said and four days later a bush sprang up, laden with fruit. From the fruit came the seeds for the cultivation of mamacoca, of which women have been devotees ever since.'
'But that is monstrous!' I commented. 'Thus to blaspheme against the Madonna and Our Lord Jesus Christ, saying that they fed on witches' plants…'
'You have spoken well, it is indeed monstrous,' said Robleda wiping the perspiration from his cheeks and his brow, 'nor was that an end to it.'
The prohibited specialities were so numerous that the colonists (and even the Jesuits, said Robleda resignedly) were completely unable to maintain any control over events. Who could safely distinguish oliuchi from donanacal, peyote from cocoba, pate from cola, opium from mate, or guarana from mamacoca?
'Was mamacoca used for prayer, too?'
'No, no,' he replied with an air of slight embarrassment, 'it was used for another purpose.'
The leaves of that seemingly innocent bush, said the Jesuit, had the stupefying power to annul weariness, remove all hunger and make those who took it euphoric and vigorous. Mamacoca also, as the Jesuits themselves had discovered, calmed pain, gave new strength to broken bones, warmed the limbs and healed old wounds which were beginning to become infested with worms. Last, (and perhaps, according to Padre Robleda, most important), thanks to mamacoca, workers, farm hands and slaves were able to work for hours on end without tiring.
Among the conquistadores, there were those who thought that this plague should be exploited rather than extirpated. Mamacoca enabled the Indians to stand up to the most exhausting conditions; and the Jesuit missionaries in the Indies, observed Padre Robleda, were in constant need of labourers.
Consumption of the plant was therefore made lawful. Native workers were paid in leaves of the plant, which for them were worth more than money, silver, even gold. The clergy had permission to raise tithes on the crop and the revenues of many priests and bishops were paid thanks to the sale of mamacoca.
'But was this not an instrument of Satan?' I objected in astonishment.
'Ah, well…' stammered Padre Robleda, 'the situation was very complex, and a choice had to be made. By granting the natives greater freedom to use mamacoca, more missions could be built, the better to bring them civilisation, in other words, to win over more souls to the cause of Christ.'
I turned over the little leaf in the palm of my hand. I tore it and brought it to my nose, sniffing at it. It seemed to be a thoroughly ordinary plant.
'And how could this have come to Rome?' I asked.
'Perhaps some Spanish ship brought a cargo of it to Portugal. From there, it will have made its way to Genoa, or Flanders. What more can I say? I recognised the plant because a brother showed me some, and I have since seen it mentioned in letters from missionaries in the Indies. Perhaps the person who gave it to you knows more.'
I was on the point of leaving when one last question came to mind.
'Just one more question, Padre. How does one consume mama-
Coca?’
'For heaven's sake, my boy, I trust that you do not intend to use it?'
'No, Padre, I am simply curious.'
'Generally speaking, the savages chew it, after spreading saliva and some ashes on the leaves; but I do not exclude that there may be other ways of taking it.'
I descended the stairs to prepare luncheon, not without first making a passing visit to the apartment of Abbot Melani to tell him what I had learned from Padre Robleda.
'Interesting, how very interesting,' commented Atto, with an expression of deep absorption. 'At present, however, I have no idea where this all leads. We shall have to reflect on the matter.'
In the kitchen, I found Cristofano, as usual, shuttling back and forth between the cellars and the stoves. He attended to the preparation of the most diverse and, to tell the truth, singular remedies for the pestilence which held Bedfordi in its thrall. In those days, I had seen a growing ferment in the Sienese physician's activities with spices; and now, he seemed to be trying almost everything. I had even seen him finish off my master's reserves of game, on the grounds that it would go bad and that concealing its taste with spices, as Pellegrino did, was lethal to health. Yet, during the night, he had seized partridges, stock doves, woodcock, quails and hazel-hens, for the sole purpose of stuffing them with Damascene and Amarena plums, whereupon he placed the birds in a white canvas bag and put it under a press, thus extracting from the delicate meat a beverage with which he hoped to restore the poor Englishman to health. Hitherto, all his attempts to find an efficacious remediam appeared to have come to nothing. Yet, young Bedfordi still lived.
Cristofano said that he found the other guests to be in rather good health, with the exception of Domenico Stilone Priaso and Pompeo Dulcibeni: the Neapolitan had awoken with the first signs of a cold sore on his lips, while the elderly Marchigiano was suffering from an attack of the piles, doubtless caused by the dinner based on cows' teats. For both these cases, he explained, the remedy was the same: we would therefore prepare a caustic.
'It mortifies putrid and corrosive ulcers such as, for example, itching herpes and other rashes and eruptions,' he pronounced, and then ordered me: ' Recipe: the strongest vinegar.'
He then mixed the vinegar with crystalline arsenic, sal-ammoniac and sublimated quicksilver. He ground the lot and put it to boil in a beaker.
'Good. Now, we need to wait until half of the vinegar has evaporated. Then I shall go up to Stilone Priaso and dry his blisters with the caustic. You, meanwhile, prepare luncheon: I have already selected a few turkeys, suited to the needs of our guests. Boil them with parsnips until they are light brown in colour and serve them up with a broth of grated bread.'
I set to work. As soon as the caustic was ready, Cristofano gave me my last instructions before climbing the stairs to visit Stilone Priaso. 'I shall have need of you with Dulcibeni. Meanwhile, I shall help you to serve the meal, so that you will soon be free, given the propensity of the guests at this hostelry to chatter with you for rather too long,' he concluded meaningfully.
After luncheon, we went to feed Bedfordi. Thereafter, we were not a little busy with my master. Pellegrino seemed not to appreciate the effluvia of the cleansing meal personally prepared for him by the physician, which did in truth have the appearance of a curious, greyish porridge. My master at least seemed more lively. The slow but progressive improvements of the last few days did not disappoint my hopes that he might soon recover completely. He sniffed at the porridge, then looked all around him, closed his right hand into a fist and then raised it, rhythmically pointing his thumb at his mouth. This was the unmistakeable gesture with which Pellegrino was
