Congregation of the Oratory, so called because its founder, Saint Philip Neri, had held its first spiritual meetings at the Oratory of San Girolamo della Carita and later in that of Santa Maria in Vallicella, where the seat of the Congregation of the Oratory is now to be found, along with Virgilio's collection.
'How the deuce do you come to know all this?'
'You will of course remember that, when I was recently visiting libraries in search of information on the cerretani, among other things, I went to the Biblioteca Vallicelliana, which happens to be just next to the Oratory of the Philippine Brothers. So it was that I got into long and pleasant conversations with them. At that time, I could even have taken a look at the collection of Virgilio Spada, if only you had told me that you thought you might find there these objects which interest you so much.'
Melani lowered his eyes and muttered furious obscenities under his breath.
'Very well, Buvat,' he then said. 'Take us to your Oratorian friends.'
'And this must be what you are looking for,' said the young monk, turning the key in the lock of a great two- panelled chest.
The room was gay and luminous, but rendered severe by the display cabinets, walnut chests of drawers and bookcases full of all manner of objects which covered it and made it rather like a sacristy.
'No one knows that these objects, the ones you're looking for, are here. Perhaps there's someone in the Spada family who remembers,' added the monk, with an expression that betrayed the desire to know how we came to be informed of this.
'Quite. I believe that is precisely the case,' replied Atto, in terms that did not address the Oratorian's observation, who was therefore left no wiser.
We were in the room at the Oratory devoted to the museum: a corner room on the second floor giving onto the Piazza della Chiesa Nuova (that of the church standing next to the Oratory itself), and a narrow alley called the Via de' Filippini.
We had begun with a detailed visit to the entire collection of Virgilio Spada: Roman coins; medals from every epoch; busts antique and modern; sundials; concave mirrors; convex lenses; gnomons; volcanic rocks; crystals; precious stones; solar sponges; the fangs of monstrous beings; teeth and bones of animals mysteriously turned to stone; the ravenous mandibles of unknown beings; elephants' vertebrae; gigantic conch and mussel shells; seahorses; stuffed birds and hawks; horns of rhinoceros and stags' antlers; turtles' shells; ostrich eggs; claws of crustaceans; and in addition, oil lamps of the first Christians found in the catacombs; tabernacles; Roman, Greek and Persian vases and amphorae; goblets; huge oil jars; lachrymal vases; bone calyxes; Chinese coins; alabaster spheres and a thousand other oddities which kept us suspended between wonderment and impatience.
After a guided visit lasting half an hour (tiresome but necessary, for if we had asked at once to see what interested us, that would have attracted too much attention), Atto put the fateful question: were there by any chance three objects which the good Virgilio Spada had not integrated into the collection but for which he cared no less, and which were of such and such a kind?
The Oratorian then led us into an adjoining room, where we at last stopped in front of an orotund and triumphal globe, that of Capitor. The Abbot and I concealed our enthusiasm and examined it with polite interest, as one might any fine product of human craftsmanship.
'We have it, my boy, at last we have it!' Abbot Melani whispered in my ear, controlling his joy with some difficulty, while our guide led us to the second object: the goblet with the centaur. Once again, we dissimulated.
'It looks just the same as in the picture, Signor Atto, there can be no doubt about it,' I murmured in his ear.
The crucial moment came only at the end, when the great black key turned in the lock and the mechanism which had guarded the third gift since who knows when gave way at last. The Oratorian opened both doors of the cabinet wide and extracted an object measuring about three feet by six, weighing a great deal and covered with a grey cloth.
'Here we are,' said he, laying it carefully on a little table and removing the cover, 'we have to keep it under lock and key because it is particularly valuable. It is true that no one enters here unannounced, but one never knows.'
We barely heard the words of the courteous Oratorian father; the blood beat hard against our temples and we would willingly have exchanged our eyes for his hands the better to discover the object so long and ardently coveted: the Tetrachion.
Here it was at last.
'It… is so beautiful,' gasped Buvat.
'It is the work of a Dutch master, so at least we are told, but we do not know his name,' the priest added laconically.
After the first moments of emotion, I was at last able to enjoy the refined forms of the dish, the exceedingly fine decoration of the edge, the exotic seashells and most capricious arabesques, and then the wonderful central marine scene, in which a pair of Tritons ploughed the waves drawing a chariot surmounted by a couple of deities seated one beside the other, their pudenda lightly covered by a golden veil; Neptune was grasping a trident, and, entwined in an embrace with her spouse, the Nereid Amphitrite was holding the reins. The pair were embossed in silver and stood out strikingly, being statuettes in the round set in the golden bed of the charger. Just as I was pausing to view the divine couple, Atto drew near to examine a minute inscription.
I too approached, and read in turn. The inscription was carved at the feet of the two deities: MONSTRUM TETRACHION
'Would you like to see anything else?' asked the Oratorian, while Atto, without even having asked his permission, took the dish in his hands, and with Buvat's help, closely inspected the two silver statuettes.
'No thank you, Father, that will suffice,' the Abbot answered at length. 'Now we shall take our leave. We simply wished to satisfy our curiosity.' 'The correct meaning of monstrum is 'marvel' or 'a marvellous thing'. But what sense does it make to write monstrum Tetrachion, or 'quadruple marvel'?'
No sooner were we on our way, moving from the Oratory of the Philippines towards the Tiber than Atto set about trying to work out what that inscription might mean. We had to hasten towards the Vessel. It was almost midday and, as Cloridia had announced to us two days earlier, another meeting between the three cardinals was due to take place, perhaps the last one on which we might have a chance to spy, or attempt to spy, seeing that all our attempts to date had failed miserably.
'Permit me, Signor Abbot,' interrupted Buvat.
'What is it now?' asked Melani nervously.
'To tell the truth, monstrum Tetrachion does not mean 'quadruple marvel' at all.'
Caught off balance, Atto stared at his secretary and uttered a faint murmur of protest.
'Tetrachion, as you obviously know, is a word of Greek origin, but the Greek word for quadruple is tetraplasios, not tetrachion. On the other hand, tetrachion is not to be confused either with tetrachin, an adverb that means 'four times',' explained the secretary, while humiliation painted itself in dark colours on Atto's forehead.
'And what does tetrachion mean then?' I asked, seeing that the Abbot lacked the breath to put the question.
'It is an adjective, and it means 'with four columns'.'
'Four columns?' Melani and I repeated incredulously in unison.
'I know what I am saying, but you can always check in any good Greek dictionary.'
'Four columns, four columns,' murmured Atto. 'Did you not notice anything curious about those two statuettes, the marine deities?'
Buvat and I reflected a few moments.
'Well, yes,' said I at length, breaking the silence, 'they are in rather a strange position. They are sitting on the chariot, one beside the other, and Neptune has his left leg between those of Amphitrite, unless I am mistaken.'
'Not only that,' Buvat corrected me, 'but it is not clear which is the right leg of the god and which is the left leg of the nereid. It is as though the two statuettes were actually… fused together. Yes, they are joined, by a hip, or a thigh, I know not which, so much so that when I first saw them, I thought, how strange, they look like a single being.'
