Secretum

'Come now, what do you mean?'

'These cerretani are diabolical. One of them says something and suddenly they all know about it.'

'It's true, damn it,' Atto echoed him forcefully after a moment's silence, 'they really are diabolical.'

This time, Buvat was not there. 'Who,' I asked, 'played the part of the criminal notary?'

'A real notary,' the catchpoll replied.

'How can that be?'

'There's no more perfect forgery than an authentic object,' Atto interjected.

'I don't understand.'

'That's a good sign. It means the old law still works, and three centuries hence it will still be working,' replied the Abbot.

'Now I remember that when we met you spoke to me of how false documents sometimes contain the truth. Is that what you meant?'

'No, this time I meant the exact opposite, and I'm not speaking only of papers but far more. I'll give you an example: who mints money in a state?' asked Melani.

'The Sovereign.'

'Exactly. So the coin that comes from his mint, the state mint, will always be genuine.'

'Yes.'

'In fact, no. Or at least, not always. The Sovereign can always, if he wants, mint false money, and in large quantities: for example, to finance a war. All he need do is produce coin with a lower gold content than its nominal value. Now, will that money be true or false?'

'False!' I answered, contradicting what I had just said.

'But the King minted it. So it will be both true and false at the same time. To be precise, this money will be genuine but misleading. The trick's as old as the world. Four hundred years ago, when the King of France, Philip IV the Fair, wanted to finance a war against the Flemings, he reduced the livre tournois by half. Initially, it weighed eleven and a half ounces. But he also did the same thing with its gold content, lowering it from 23 carats to 20 carats. That way the King's coffers gained six thousand Parisian livres 'under the counter'. In the process, however, he reduced the land to extreme poverty.'

'Does that kind of thing still happen today?'

'More than ever. William of Orange did it when he minted forged and suitably 'lightened' Venetian zecchini.'

'How awful! False things that reveal the truth and true things that spread what's false,' I sighed.

'That's the chaos of human society, my boy. That pain-inthe-proverbial, Albicastro, did say at least one thing that was absolutely right: 'Human affairs, like the Sileni of Alcibiades, always have two faces, each the opposite of the other.' That is and always will be the way of the world: open a Silenus, and you'll find everything transformed into its opposite,' concluded Atto, surprising me by quoting the Dutchman whom he so detested.

The Abbot was speaking of the Sileni mentioned by the violinist, those grotesque statuettes which contained divine images within.

'Getting back to the subject,' added Melani. 'Friend Sfasciamonti had Geronimo examined by a real notary, who drew up a record of the interrogation that was in the correct form down to the smallest details, as not even Buvat could have done. It is not a false document. It contains information which is somewhat… imprecise, if you wish, like certain dates; nevertheless, it was drawn up by a genuine notary, assisted by genuine sergeants. It is not a faithful document, but it is an authentic one, indeed, most authentic. Is what I say correct?' asked Atto, turning to his travelling companion.

The catchpoll said nothing. He was not pleased that these methods should be spoken of openly, but he could not deny what had been said. Instead of answering, he looked away from us, thus giving his tacit assent.

'Remember, my boy,' said Atto to me, 'great falsifications call for great means; and these, only the state possesses.'

Following Ugonio's directions, we ordered the coachman, a mercenary used to all manner of missions (nocturnal fugues, adulteries, clandestine meetings) to take us to a quiet spot in the town. We were set down in a dark alley behind a big haystack. The houses were plunged in darkness. Only from rare windows did faint lights still glimmer, while the sole denizens of the narrow streets were cats and their customary victims.

The driver told us to take care, but carefully avoided asking us what we proposed to do in that God-forsaken place at that hour.

The streets were singularly free of any sign of life; yet it was a warm, comforting summer night of the kind beloved by insomniacs, clandestine lovers and adventurous boys. Judging by the deathly pall over all our surroundings, one might have thought we were in the midst of a blizzard in the dark lands of the far north of the kind so well described by Olaus Magnus.

The corpisantaro carried a big greasy sack on his shoulder. We took a lane that led out into the fields, split into two separate roads, then petered out amidst a group of ruins. Our march was long and tortuous. We crossed vegetable gardens, then an uncultivated field. The only counterpoint to our footsteps was the chirping of crickets and the petulant buzz of mosquitos. We had in truth to advance rather cautiously, to avoid falling into some hidden ditch.

'Is it still far?' asked Atto, somewhat impatiently.

''Tis a particulate and secreted location,' said the corpisantaro in justification, 'that must remain incognito.'

Suddenly, Ugonio stopped and drew from his sack three filthy hooded cassocks.

'Only three?' I asked.

The corpisantaro explained that Sfasciamonti could not come with us.

'These vestibulements would be overmuch too tight-knitted for him,' said he, pointing at the cloaks. 'He has an excess of corpulousness. Better that he should vegetate here until our retourney, decreasing the scrupules so as not to increase our scruples, naturalissimally.'

The catchpoll grunted some discontented comment but did not protest. What a strange destiny for Sfasciamonti, I thought. He'd striven so long to investigate the cerretani, despite the opposition of colleagues and superiors, and here he was, reduced to doing so on Abbot Melani's behalf: in other words, as a mercenary. And now, after travelling by night all the way to Albano, he could not even come with us to the meeting.

I put on the smallest of the cassocks. There is no point in my dwelling upon the disgust that those vile, stinking rags inspired in me, worn for years by creatures accustomed to crawling amidst subterranean rubbish in a world utterly alien to the very notion of cleanliness. They reeked of stale urine, rotting food and acid sweat. I heard Atto cursing under his breath against Ugonio's companions and their filth. Buvat put up with these clothes uncomplainingly, faithful secretary that he was.

The undeniable advantage of the garments was, however, their disproportionately voluminous cowls which covered almost all one's face, the outsized sleeves which concealed one's hands and the way they trailed along the ground, so that one could walk without one's footwear or stockings being visible. Holding back a wave of nausea, I slipped my arms into the sleeves. I had been transformed into a smelly cocoon of clumsy, formless sackcloth. Only their stature rendered Atto and Buvat a little less awkward.

'What? No lantern?' Atto protested once more when he learned from Ugonio that we would have to proceed in the dark. The corpisantaro was adamant: from that moment on, we risked being discovered and unmasked by the cerretani. What was more, I remembered that the tomb robbers always moved without light, both by night and in the dark tunnels under Rome.

Like three faceless ghosts, Buvat, Atto and 1 followed Ugonio who guided us along a pathway visible only to him. In a hoarse whisper, Sfasciamonti wished us good luck.

As I walked, the stink of the caftan I wore cancelled out the smell of the effluvia of the countryside by night. I crossed myself mentally and prayed the Lord not to judge too severely the rash acts which we were surely about to commit. I sought courage in the thought that only the future dowries of my little girls could justify such recklessness.

After a long straight walk on the level, the path made a great curve and sloped gradually down into a damp ravine where only a few sinister and wavering glimmers reached us from the heavens.

Suddenly, as though magically exuded from the darkness, a few figures appeared nearby. An old cripple, supported by two companions, was coming towards us. Behind them, emerging from the nocturnal mists, other