test of courage, a renewed merging of heart and intellect, a most bitter and most sweet voyage at the end of which virtue and knowledge once again awaited me. This was something which only later was I to recognise to be at once true and false, because induced by that philosophy without words and without ideas which speaks through the mouths of flutes and cymbals, mocking us all.
The notes were dying out in the sweet embrace of the final chord when a voice swept away the delusive voices to which I had been giving a home in my heart.
'For heaven's sake, where you been?'
My Cloridia had found me. She read on my face the signs of the adventurous night and questioned me with a silent, worried look.
I gestured to her that we should move away from the amphitheatre and drew her towards the cane-brake which delimited the green part of the garden to the north, just before the boundary wall. This was a useful stratagem, as by now the whole of the Villa Spada was more than ever gripped by extreme agitation, and not even our beech tree would be safe from inquisitive ears. I told her briefly all that had happened between nightfall and dawn.
'You are all insane: you, Sfasciamonti and Melani,' said she in a voice halfway between tears, reproof and relief at having found me safe and sound.
She embraced me and we remained for a few minutes holding each other tight. I smelled the perfume of her skin mixing with the wild odours of the cane-brake and hoped with all my heart that I no longer smelled of manure.
'I have little time. The Princess of Forano wants me constantly by her side. She keeps on swooning, feeling unwell, being overcome by little bouts of fever. In other words, she's afraid of giving birth, despite the fact that this is the fourth child she's producing.'
'But how come the husband allowed her to accompany him to the Villa Spada, knowing that she's so close to her confinement?'
'In fact, he does not know that, he thinks she's only in her sixth month…' Cloridia winked, with a vague, sly expression on her face that spoke volumes. 'She, however, absolutely insists on being present at the wedding: the bride is a good friend of hers. I've been quite unable to convince her to return home. Let's stay here and listen to me carefully, I must be quick.'
As promised, Cloridia had succeeded in obtaining some interesting information. A few weeks earlier she had assisted at the difficult confinement of a chambermaid at the Spanish Embassy. The young woman was very grateful to her for, thanks to her assistance, the little one, a fine little girl called Natalia who had tried to leave her mother's womb feet first, had been most skilfully extracted by Cloridia: slipping her fine fingers into the birth canal, she had succeeded in performing Siegemundin's celebrated 'double-hold' at which she was so adept, and turning the baby in her mother's womb, whereupon she had pulled her out by the head without the slightest danger. The young mother who had previously twice miscarried had, out of gratitude, become Cloridia's friend.
'I mentioned to her what had befallen Abbot Melani and the bookbinder. In order to convince her to speak, I told her that this was perhaps of importance to the Spaniards and she should therefore tell me every curious thing that she had seen or heard. She said to me: 'Jesu, Mother Cloridia, you must pray fervently for your husband and for your master, Cardinal Spada.'
'And why is that?'
Cloridia had needed only gentle insistence to extract a confession from the young woman. Overhearing partly by accident (but also on purpose) the conversations of the Ambassador, the Duke of Uzeda, the little chambermaid had learned that political manoeuvres were taking place in Rome which would be decisive for the future of Spain and the world.
'Just as I read in the letters of the Connestabilessa Colonna,' said I.
'You did well to spy out those letters. I am proud of you. In any case, Abbot Melani deserves no better. After all, he steals letters, that's how he gets by; even if they end up by costing him plenty,' laughed Cloridia, alluding to the memoirs which Melani had arranged to be stolen from me and which he had then proceeded to buy at a high price.
Cloridia never spoke fondly of Atto. She did not trust him (and how could she be blamed for that?); indeed, of him she could hardly have thought worse. The Abbot, while perfectly aware that she was within calling distance of him, had never once thought to ask after her or to involve her in our business, were it only for the sake of appearances or to request a smattering of information; nor could Cloridia abide the idea that anyone could dare ignore her precious admonitions without running to certain doom.
Since his return she had never so much as been to present her respects or to offer her services and I was sure that if she had merely glimpsed Atto's silhouette in the park of Villa Spada, she would have changed direction so as not to meet him. The same was true of him, of that I was certain. In other words, the twain, my wife and Abbot Melani, repaid one another in the same coin.
'What else did you learn?' I continued.
'My little chambermaid mentioned to me, too, in truth very briefly, that the Catholic King is very ill and might soon die, but he has no heirs and it was said that the Pope had therefore been asked to help. Everyone at the Embassy at that time was terrified of being suspected of espionage. She, however, told me that she had heard this rumour which was current among the Spaniards in Rome from her other compatriots.'
'What rumour?'
'That the Tetrachion will soon be arriving in Spain.'
'Tetrachion? And what is that?'
'She does not know that either. She says only that he is the legitimate heir to the Spanish throne.'
'The legitimate heir?'
'That is what she said. She asked me if I know anything of this. But it was from her that I heard tell of it for the first time. How about you?'
'Never heard of it. Not even the Connestabilessa had anything to say about that. But what's the connection between the Tetrachion, Abbot Melani's stab wound and the death of the book-binder?'
'I have no idea. As I said, in order to soften up my little chambermaid, I told her that this business concerned the Spaniards. So she told me that, according to the rumours, the coming of the Tetrachion would bring misfortune: what happened to Melani and to the bookbinder were, in her eyes, among the early signs of that trouble.'
'Do you think that she will have anything else to tell you later on?'
'Surely not, seeing how scared she was. You know how word of mouth spreads among the servants' class. Once in motion, it takes on its own life. I do not exclude the possibility that I may soon receive further information about this Tetrachion quite spontaneously. Meanwhile, take care, I beg of you. You cannot always be as fortunate as you were last night.'
'You know that I am doing this for both of us,' said I gravely, alluding to the bountiful compensation which Atto had paid me for writing up the chronicle of his Roman sojourn.
'Then be so good as to arrange matters so that, at the end of this story, you and I are still together. Being a widow is no pleasant business. And do not deceive yourself: he paid you to write a memoir, not to go around searching for his stolen papers.'
'Do not forget that they drugged me and broke into our house. I must prevent that from happening again,' I retorted in my defence.
'It will happen surely enough if you persist in keeping company with Melani. Remember Article Five: 'He who holds the purse strings is the winner.''She was right. With that mocking proverb Cloridia had said all that need be said. I did not have to follow Atto in all his convolutions. I had already been paid; it was therefore up to him to seek my services. Last night, however, I had not only followed him, I had gone around in his stead, and risked my life in so doing.
What would become of my family if I were to die? Cloridia could not bring up the little girls on her own. No, not even my intention of keeping watch over Atto on behalf of my master Cardinal Spada merited my running such risks.
'You have made me worry, my boy, believe me.'
Abbot Melani was somewhat clumsily playing the part of the good paterfamilias. He sat in an armchair, massaging his arm. Hardly had I finished my conversation with Cloridia than he had succeeded in getting Buvat to trace me and bring me to him. The apartment was again in good order.
