'And I, who went so far as to intercede on your behalf to get you an increase in pay from that miser of a chief librarian of yours!'
'In any case, he did not grant me any…' Buvat dared contradict with a quavering voice. 'But, getting back to the dictionary which you requested of me, Signor Abbot, you must believe me…'
'There's no time: we must act now.'
Ugonio had kept his word. As agreed, through a filthy little boy who acted as his courier, he had informed Sfasciamonti where we were to meet him. The ride on horseback was initially free from danger or discomfort. The rendezvous was in a place outside the city walls, beyond Piazza del Popolo, at the cemetery of the harlots.
As we rode, I was able to question Atto without being overheard by Sfasciamonti, who went some way ahead of us, while Buvat trailed wearily behind.
'Yesterday, you said that Buvat was collecting evidence with which to entrap Lamberg. I must confess that your words were something of a mystery to me.'
'It is quite straightforward. Unless one has a burning desire to arrive at the truth, one will never get at it,' he replied with a smile, as though challenging me. 'Anyway, it really is simple; just listen to me. The cerretani ambushed the bookbinder who, whether it was fate or something less, died as a result. What did they want from poor Haver? My treatise on the Secrets of the Conclave. This was a theft on commission, for those tramps would certainly not know what to do with such a thing. From Haver, the cerretani took all that they could. But afterwards, examining the stolen goods, the person who ordered the theft found that my treatise was missing.'
'Because you had already withdrawn it from the coronaro?'
'Exactly.'
'And you are quite sure that Count Lamberg is behind all this.'
'But of course. The prime mover, as one can see from the whole context, has excellent connections in Rome — men, money, protectors — and is interested in matters of high diplomacy. He knows full well that Abbot Melani too enjoys discreet support from several quarters and knows facts and persons that could prove decisive at the next conclave. All of this fits in perfectly with Count Lamberg.'
While the clip-clop of the horses' hooves echoed between us, I chewed over Atto's explanation. I thought of the grim figure of the Imperial Ambassador, of his sphinx-like expression and the sinister fame that accompanied the Empire's meddling in Spain's affairs: the conspiracies, the mysterious deaths, the poisonings…
'The break-in at Haver's place was carried out by the cerretani',' Atto resumed, 'and just bear in mind the coincidence that in the German-speaking lands there also exist other canting sects which are somehow linked to the Italian ones. Lamberg may perfectly well be familiar with suchlike rascals who, thanks to their accursed skills, are capable of getting up to just about anything. Add to that the fact that our dearly beloved tomb robber Ugonio, alias the powerful German, who is in cahoots with the cerretani, also happens to come from Vienna. And this brings us to the next stage. Since the move against the bookbinder failed, Ugonio came to look for my treatise at Villa Spada. And this time, they found it.'
'And the wound to your arm?' I asked, already guessing at the explanation.
'Easy. Lamberg wanted to intimidate me; and seriously. He hoped that I'd take fright and run away.'
'So he did not mean to kill you. There is, however, something I do not understand: why, among all the diplomats and agents of His Most Christian Majesty present here in Rome should Lamberg have taken aim at you?'
'But it is quite obvious, my boy! He knows that my words and writings are heard and read by influential persons and that I can act on some of the most eminent members of the Sacred College, who are preparing… well, they're preparing for the next papal election, a matter which is obviously close to Lamberg's heart.'
I was struck by Atto's hesitation in explaining why Count Lamberg should have wanted to filch his treatise. I had my own good reasons for this. From my clandestine reading of the correspondence between Atto and Maria, I knew that the conclave was not the only game involving the Pope, as Atto was trying to get me to believe. There was also the matter of the Spanish succession.
And precisely that aspect of the question remained unclear to me. Why had Atto, in reconstructing all that had happened to him (the theft, the wound to his arm) failed to make any reference whatever to the Spanish succession? Yet Lamberg, the Ambassador of the Habsburgs, must take a lively interest in the question, seeing that the House of Austria aspired to place one of its members on the Spanish throne!
I pretended to be satisfied with Abbot Melani's explanation and for the rest of the way we rode in silence. Gloomy and sinister was the place where our meeting was to be held, and perfectly in keeping with Ugonio's lugubrious cowled silhouette which awaited us in the midst of the expanse of tombstones. Some nocturnal raptor disturbed the air with its eldritch screeches; the air of that warm night, almost as though impregnated with some black secretions from mortal remains, was in that neglected churchyard even denser, murkier, more torrid. Ugonio had chosen well: for a clandestine meeting, there could be no better place than the harlots' cemetery.
The corpisantaro approached, staggering under the weight of a great jute sack which he bore on his shoulders.
'What have you in there?' asked Atto.
'A merest ineptitude of nothingnesses. Jubilleous objectitions.'
Atto circled him and prodded the sack with his hands. The loot creaked and clattered as though the bag had been crammed to the limit with all manner of objects: wooden, metal and bone.
'So business is thriving now that there's the Jubilee?'
Ugonio nodded with false modesty.
'This is a lady's hand mirror,' Abbot Melani diagnosed, groping at a corner of the sack, 'stolen from some poor dame as she prayed in church. The little purseful of coin just next to it will be the proceeds of alms obtained from the ingenuous by one of your dirty tricks, or else your ruffian's fee for taking a group of pilgrims exhausted by their travels to some overpriced doss-house. This must be a most holy sacrament filched from some distracted parish priest; and this must be a crucifix, perhaps lifted off some confraternity during their visit to the four basilicas, am I not right?'
The corpisantaro could not suppress a bestial half-smiling grimace which betrayed shame at the unmasking of his evildoing and gloating delight at the opportunities which the Jubilee offered him for satisfying his base appetites. He then drew a little book out from his greatcoat and handed it to Melani. It was in rather poor condition, and poorly bound; judging by its size it could not contain more than eighty pages. Atto opened it at the frontispiece as I craned over and read:
A new way of understanding the cant lingo.
Or how to speak St Giles' Greek newly brought up to date in Alphabetical Order.
A work no less pleasant than useful MDXLV
In Ferrara by Giovanmaria di Michieli and Antonio Maria di Sivieri, Companions.
Anno MDXLV
'Aha!' the Abbot jubilated, flourishing it under Buvat's nose.
'What is it?' I asked.
'What my good secretary was supposed to find: a glossary enabling one to understand the canters' language — or Saint Giles' Greek, if you prefer. It will help us to understand what the cerretani are saying. 'Tis a good thing that I also asked Ugonio to find this somewhere,' replied Atto, slipping a couple of silver coins into the corpisantaro' s claws.
'I bestole it off a goodlious old friendly,' declared Ugonio with a mean snigger.
'From what I can see, it is an old edition; I doubt if it will be very reliable,' interjected Atto's secretary, nervously scrutinising the book.
'Silence Buvat, and read it to me,' the Abbot cut him short.
We began to leaf through the pages:
A
There followed all the letters of the alphabet, each with its double list of words from ordinary language and a translation into the jargon of the cerretani, and vice versa.
''Tis a truly strange glossary,' insisted Buvat, looking sceptical. 'It mixes words with phrases, and then it makes for all kinds of confusion. 'Albert', the name of a person, means 'egg'. 'Anticrot' means 'God' and 'Christ', but also 'Ambassador'.'
'It is still better than nothing,' said Melani, silencing him. 'Come now, let us test it. What did that cerretano, Il
