As I have had occasion to tell, the parrot was prone to an insane, overpowering passion for chocolate. Every now and then, I would procure him a little, filching it from the kitchen. It was, however, the first time that the whole Villa Spada had been invaded by that inebriating aroma. It was thus no accident that the bird had, that day, at last overcome its shy and retiring nature and come to join in the festivities, in the hope of finding something good to drink.
At the very moment when Albani had lost control of his cup, the fowl had seen and, true to his haughty and scornful nature, seized the ideal solution: theft. Even before landing, he had dipped his beak into the Cardinal's cup. Albani and the others smiled, a little embarrassed.
'How very charming, eh?… Really amusing,' they just had time to comment before Caesar Augustus, under the somewhat shocked eyes of those who had just arrived on the scene and were gathering around, grasped the paper in one of his talons.
Albani reached out and tried to regain possession of the note which was less than a foot away from him. Caesar Augustus bit the back of his hand. The Cardinal withdrew it with a cry of disappointment. All the other persons present took an imperceptible step back.
'Your Eminence, let me help,' I ventured, stepping forward in the hope that Caesar Augustus would not use violence against an old friend. I reached out with my hand and delicately took the note from him. Then came the terrible shock.
Someone had thrown me to the ground, or rather had fallen on top of me. From the protests which I heard I understood confusedly that at least two or three of us had fallen. Someone took the billet from my hand while other hands shoved clumsily against my ribs.
'Oh Your Eminence, excuse me, excuse me, I tripped,' I heard Buvat's unmistakeable voice.
'Stop this madman!' echoed another voice.
I understood Atto's plan at once: to create confusion, perhaps even a brawl, by tripping that gangling Buvat so that he fell headlong against the group, while he himself got hold of the paper.
'Oh damnation, no!' I heard Melani utter immediately after that. I freed myself of someone's leg and rose to my feet.
Almost everyone had got up, including Buvat, who was putting himself in order under the irate glares of about a dozen people. Caesar Augustus was still there, on the same little wall as before, but with one important difference: the note was in his beak. He had snatched it directly from Atto's hands. Melani now stood before him imploringly, without however daring to ask him to return the paper: Albani was staring with a glazed expression at the bird and his paper.
'Caesar Augustus…' said I softly, hoping to catch his attention.
He replied with a gurgling sound. He was sucking the note, with its coating of chocolate. Then he spread his wings, looking obliquely at me. At length, with a whirring of white feathers, he rose, flying off at great speed.
Cardinal Albani flinched involuntarily.
'Truly a strange bird,' said he with an imperceptible break in his voice, struggling to recover his dignity.
I noticed distractedly that the Cardinal was wiping pearls of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. My whole attention was focused on the direction in which the fowl was flying. There could be no doubt about it. As I had feared, he was leaving the villa in the direction of the San Pancrazio Gate.
It was not easy for me to find a way of disengaging myself. Muttering an excuse, I left the balcony. Atto joined me almost at once in the salon, in which dozens of heads were still turned towards the curious scene that had just taken place outside. We succeeded in melting sufficiently into the crowd. I had, however, to calculate carefully when to slip out of the salon and then the villa without being seen by Don Paschatio or other members of the staff; all that, while taking the time to exchange the livery for my own clothes. For that purpose, I was able to take refuge in Abbot Melani's apartments.
'Hurry, hurry, damn it, by now that wretched bird could be anywhere,' said he as I hastily pulled on my breeches.
To pass unobserved there was no other solution but to creep through the cane-brake behind the main avenue of the villa and then to double back through the part of the garden behind the house. Fortunately, the summer sun was already sheathing the fiery daggers with which it was so fond of tormenting both objects and living things; the pursuit was thus less disagreeable.
After skirting the chapel, we crossed the drive that led to the theatre and came to the rear entrance. We got ourselves a little dirty but at least we had avoided being seen by the other guests or by the guards watching over the main entrance. We must make sure that Albani, Spinola and Spada should know nothing of our search.
Atto had commanded his secretary to remain at the reception and, most discreetly, to keep an eye on the three eminences, even though he did not expect to obtain much information.
We both knew that, if we could lay our hands on the note, we would learn the details of their next appointment, and perhaps of their plans. It was true that Caesar Augustus would have chewed up the paper thoroughly where it was steeped in his beloved chocolate. That was precisely why I knew that he would not have got rid of it, but would have held on to it carefully so that he could from time to time return to lick its sweet surface with his pointed black tongue.
We had just passed the San Pancrazio Gate when Atto grabbed me by the shoulder.
'Look!'
It was he. He was circling almost directly above our heads. He had surely heard us. He swerved at once to the right and then flew straight ahead. This was just what I had been expecting. Whenever he set out on his solitary adventures, abandoning the villa for days, sometimes even weeks on end, I would see him fly off towards the tallest, most forbidding trees; and that was what he now did. Leaving Rome, he had not much choice. The most majestic pines, the proudest cypresses, the most hospitable plane trees in the neighbourhood were all gathered in one place, and there we saw him disappear, shooting like a brilliant white and yellow comet, into the green gardens of the Vessel.
Evening the Fourth
10th J ULY, 1700
As we slipped into the park of the Vessel, once again undisturbed, our gaze scanned the heights rather than what lay before us. Without a shadow of a doubt, Caesar Augustus was somewhere up there, perched on some high branch, perhaps even keeping an eye on us.
The late afternoon was at last free of the burning influence of the summer sun but, as had happened on the occasion of our previous visits, no sooner had we entered the Vessel than the evening shadows, which seemed already to be lengthening over Villa Spada, vanished, swept away, together with the few clouds, by a sharp little breeze that left the field open to a pure, shimmering golden light. In short, twilight seemed to be an unwelcome guest at Elpidio Benedetti's villa.
After crossing the entrance courtyard, we moved towards the espaliered citrus trees, in the neighbourhood of which we began a cautious investigation. The vivid tints of oranges and lemons, the splashes of colour of vases of roses, the leopard-like shadows of the chequerboard pergolas and the little wood confounded not only the sense of sight, but of smell, and indeed all the senses. Light breaths of wind caused every leaf to murmur, every flower to vibrate, every stem to sway. After a few minutes, I seemed to be seeing Caesar Augustus everywhere and nowhere. We walked the length of the drive, which was covered by a barrel-vaulted pergola ending with the fresco of Rome Triumphant. We found nothing. Even Atto seemed discouraged. We changed direction and headed for the house.
'Damned bird,' he murmured.
'I confess that in my view we are most unlikely to find him. When Caesar Augustus does not want to be found, there is usually nothing that can be done about it.'
'Nothing to be done? That we shall see!' said he, brandishing his silver-pommelled stick at the heavens, as though he were admonishing some deity.
'I tell you that if he does not want to be found, not even if…'
