'A single being,' repeated Atto thoughtfully. 'It is as though they had — how can one put it? — four legs shared between the two of them,' he added in a low voice.
'So the four columns are the legs,' I deduced.
'That is possible. Oh yes, in terms of language, it is certainly possible, I can confirm that,' Buvat pronounced. His intellect may perhaps have been lacking in daring, but when he took the bull of erudition by the horns, he would not let go.
'So, Buvat, if I may take advantage of your admirable science, I ask you whether, instead of 'quadruple marvel', I can translate monstrum Tetrachion as 'four-legged' or even 'four-pawed monster'.'
Buvat reflected one moment, then gave his ruling: 'Yes, definitely. Monstrum in Latin means both 'prodigy' or 'marvel' and 'monster', that's well known. Still, I do not understand where all this is leading up to…'
'Good, that will do,' commented Atto.
'Still, what is this Tetrachion?' I questioned him. 'If it really is the heir to the Spanish throne, it seems almost to be an animal, Signor Atto.'
'What the Tetrachion is, I do not know. What's more, to be quite honest, 1 know even less than I did before. Yet I feel that the answer is at hand, if we can but take one step forward. It is always like that: whenever one is close to the solution of some mystery of state, everything seems confused. The closer you approach, the more you stumble in the dark. Then suddenly, it all becomes clear.'
While he was commenting on our progress, we passed the bridge over the Tiber and by now we were already climbing the Janiculum Hill and rapidly approaching our goal.
'Only one piece is missing from the mosaic,' Atto continued, 'and then perhaps we shall find what we seek. I want to know: where the deuce does this word Tetrachion come from? We must go and put a couple of little questions to someone. Let's hope he's already arrived at Villa Spada. We have very little time left before Spada, Albani and Spinola return to the Vessel. Let us get a move on.'
Our initial search through the gardens of Villa Spada proved fruitless. Romauli, said the other servants, was doing his rounds, but no one knew exactly where he was. Since he spent most of his time bending over, he was easily concealed by hedges and shrubs.
'Damn it all, I have it,' cursed Atto. 'We need some help.'
He guided our trio to his apartment. No sooner had we entered than he rushed to the table and grasped a familiar object: the telescope. He pointed it out of the window, to no avail.
We then went outside and crossed to the other side of the villa. This time, after a swift scan, Melani whistled with satisfaction:
'I have you, wretched gardener.'
Now we knew where he was.
Tranquillo Romauli, punctual in his activities as the rising of sun and moon, could certainly not fail to water the Saint Antony's lilies which he had planted not long before and which required constant and intensive care. He was carefully sprinkling the diaphanous lanceolate calyxes bunched in lovely racemes when we appeared before him, greeting him with the greatest courtesy that haste and emotion permitted.
'Do you see? With lilies, the ground needs generous watering, but it must never be drenched,' he began, almost without responding to our greeting. 'In this period, they should really be resting, but I have succeeded in developing a hybrid which…'
'Signor Master Florist, be so kind as to permit us to ask you a question,' I asked him amiably, 'a question concerning the Tetrachion.'
'About the Tetrachion, my Tetrachion?'
'Yes, Signor Florist, the Tetrachion. Where did you find that name?'
'Oh, that is a rather sad story,' said he, as he put down his watering can, his face marked by some distant memory.
Fortunately, his explanation was not too lengthy. Years before, Romauli had not dedicated all his time to flowers: he had been married. As well I knew, his late spouse had been a great midwife; indeed she had taught the art to Cloridia, and had attended the birth of our two little ones. From his tale one understood that it had been the premature death of his wife that had caused him to devote himself body and soul to gardening, in a vain attempt to banish the indelible shadows of mourning. Not long after the sad event, the poor woman's parents had asked Tranquillo if he could leave them some personal belonging of hers as a memento.
'I gave them a few jewels, two little pictures, a holy image and then her work books.'
'So these were books for midwives,' said Atto to encourage him.
'They are used by midwives to acquaint themselves with the possible accidents arising from difficult deliveries, or to instruct themselves on the different kinds of womb, and other such matters,' he replied.
'And from which book did you take the term Tetrachion?'
'Ah, well, that I really cannot remember. It was so many years ago. I do not recall the details. The use of that name is in fact a memento, just a memento of my dear wife.'
We had learned enough.
'Thank you, thank you for your patience, and please pardon us for having troubled you,' said I, while Atto was already hurrying away, without so much as a farewell, towards the gate of the villa. Romauli stared at us in surprise.
Running as fast as I was able to, I rejoined Atto, who had charged out of Villa Spada without even a nod towards a pair of cardinals, who had themselves turned to greet him. Buvat meanwhile had obeyed his master's orders to remain in the villa and had turned back towards the great house.
'I have sent him to look for your wife,' explained Melani. 'We must find the book from which the Master Florist took that name. I want the author, the title, the page number, the lot.'
He and I moved rapidly away from the Villa Spada. The Vessel awaited us.
'A curse upon Tranquillo Romauli and his chatter. I knew it: they've disappeared again.'
It was midday. We had entered Benedetti's villa, but as on the previous occasions, of the three cardinals there was not so much as a shadow.
'It is noon. The appointment was fixed for precisely this hour,' I observed after we had carried out our usual swift but careful preliminary reconnaissance.
We were on the second floor. Near us, on the ground, lay Pieter Boel's picture.
'It looks very like a gross error of workmanship,' commented Atto.
The Abbot leaned over the canvas, intent upon comparing the depiction of Capitor's dish with the original which we had just examined so avidly at the Oratory.
'It is just as I had already observed: what at first sight appears to be Amphitrite's right leg comes from Poseidon's left side,' continued the Abbot, 'while what looks like the god's left leg comes from the nereid.'
'Then it is as I said,' I intervened, 'there's just one leg placed over the other.'
'That was my own first impression,' he retorted, 'but look carefully at the toes.'
I leaned over in turn to examine the detail.
'It is true, the big toes…' I exclaimed in surprise. 'But how is that possible?'
'From their position, it is clear that the two legs cannot be crossed: the nereid's right leg really is her own and Poseidon's left leg really does belong to him.'
'It is as though, through the goldsmith's carelessness, they'd been wrongly attached to the statuettes.'
'Quite. But do you not find that rather strange for an artist capable of producing a masterpiece like this?'
'We shall have to return to the Oratorian Fathers and ask to be shown the original again.'
'Alas, I fear that would not be of much use. Unfortunately, it is impossible to verify to which statuette the legs are in fact attached. I already tried to look on the dish itself, but do you see the little strip of gold that runs horizontally across the flanks of the two deities, covering their pudenda?'
'Yes, I'd already noticed it.'
'Well, the goldsmith soldered it to the statuettes, so it is no longer possible to raise it and resolve the mystery. Only, I wonder why ever…'
Melani broke off with an irate grimace of vexation.
'Him again, that demented Dutchman. But when will he stop?'
Re-emerging once more from who knows where, Albicastro was at it again: once again the theme of the folia echoed, proud and indomitable, through the halls of the Vessel. A little later, he entered the room where we
