"We are going home, but calmly. Ugonio and Ciacconio will await us underground, after completing a certain little errand."
We returned by a more circuitous route, avoiding crossing the middle of the Campo di Fiore, so as not to be seen by anyone. We were, Atto mentioned in passing, not far from the French embassy and there was a risk of being surprised by the night guard. Thanks to his acquaintances, he could even have asked for asylum. But at that hour, rather than arrest us, the embassy's Corsican guards might perhaps have preferred to rob us and cut our throats.
"As you may know, in Rome there exists 'the freedom of the quarter': meaning that the Pontiff's men and the Bargello can arrest no one in the quarter of the embassies. This arrangement is, however, becoming all too convenient for fugitive assassins. That is why the Corsican guards do not waste much time on subtleties. My brother Alessandro, who is maestro di cappella to Cardinal Pamphili, has absented himself from Rome at the present time. Otherwise he could have provided us with an escort."
We returned under the ground. Thanks be to heaven, our lanterns were undamaged. We walked through the subterranean labyrinth in search of the hall with the frescoes, and we were on the point of giving ourselves up for lost when, from some unknown passageway, the corpisantari appeared at our side.
"Did you have a pleasant conversation?" asked Atto.
"Gfrrrlubh!" answered Ciacconio with a smug grin.
"What did you do to him?" I asked with concern.
"Gfrrrlubh."
His grunt calmed my fears. I had the bizarre impression that I was, by some obscure means, beginning to understand the corpisantaro monochord language.
"Ciacconio has but affrighted him," assured Ugonio.
"Suppose that you had never seen our two friends," explained Atto, "then imagine them both jumping upon you screaming, in a dark underground passage. Next, suppose that they asked you a favour, in exchange for which they would leave you in peace, what would you do?"
"I should certainly do whatever they asked!"
"There you are, they merely inquired of Stilone what he had just been up to, and why."
Ugonio's account, briefly, ran as follows. Poor Stilone Priaso had visited the shop of a certain Komarek, who from time to time worked in the printing press of the Congregatio De Propaganda Fide, and at night undertook a few clandestine jobs on his own to supplement his earnings. Komarek printed gazettes, anonymous letters, perhaps even books placed on the Index: all prohibited material, for which he ensured that he was very well paid. Stilone Priaso had commissioned him to print a few letters containing political predictions, on behalf of a friend in Naples. In exchange, the two were to share the profits. That was why he was in Rome.
"And the Bible, then?" asked Atto.
No, said Ugonio, Stilone knew absolutely nothing about any Bibles. And he had taken nothing from Komarek's shop, not even a single page.
"So it was not he who lost the bloodstained page underground. Are you sure that he told the truth?"
"Gfrrrlubh," sniggered Ciacconio.
"The scarified presence did pissify upon himself," explained Ugonio gleefully.
To complete their good work, the pair had searched Stilone Priaso, finding on him a minuscule and much fingered booklet which he probably always kept under his clothing. Atto scrutinised it by the light of the lantern, as we were setting out on our return journey:
ASTROLOGICALL
TREATISE CONCERNING THE INFLUENCES OF THE HEAVENLY BODIES Pro, and Contra Matters Sublunary for the entire Year 1683
CALCULATED FOR THE LONGITUDE, AND LATITUDE
of the Most Serene City of Florence
BY BARTOLOMMEO ALBIZZINI OF FLORENCE
and by the Same Dedicated to the most Illustr. Lord, and most Ven. Patron Sig.
GIO: CLAUDIO BUONVISI
Ambassador of the Most Illustrious & Excellent Republic of Lucca to His Most Serene Highness Cosimo III. Grand Duke of Tuscany
"Tut tut, an astrological gazette," exclaimed Atto with great amusement.
Son faci le Stelle
che spirano ardore...*
He trilled melodiously, arousing in Ciacconio grunts of admiration.
"Ooohh, castricated cantor!" applauded Ugonio, with a servile expression.
"A gazetteer, that much I had understood," continued Atto without paying any attention to the corpisantari. "But that Stilone
* The Stars are torches / Which inspire ardour...
Priaso should be a judicial astrologer, no, that I could not have imagined."
"Why did you suspect that Stilone was a gazetteer?"
"Intuition. However, a poet he could surely not be. Poets are of melancholy humour, and, unless they have a prince or a cardinal to protect them, I can recognise them at once. They will read you their doggerel on the slightest pretext, they are poorly dressed, and they invariably try to get themselves invited to one's table. Stilone, however, had the apparel, the words and the eyes of one who 'has a well-lined belly', as they say in his part of the world. At the same time, however, his is a reserved character like, for example, that of Pompeo Dulcibeni, nor does he talk out of place, as Robleda is wont to do."
"What does judicial astrology mean?"
"You will of course know more or less what astrologers do?"
"Yes, more or less: they try to foretell the future by means of the stars."
"In general, that is so. But that is not all. You would do well to bear in mind what I am about to tell you, if you really intend to become a gazetteer. Astrologers are divided into two categories: astrologers pure and simple and judicial astrologers. Both are agreed that the stars and planets, besides producing light and heat, have mysterious qualities, whereby they exercise a number of effects upon inferior bodies."
We were now moving through the long curved gallery in which we had been terrorised by the rodent's shadow.
"But judicial astrologers go beyond that, engaging in a highly perilous game," said Abbot Melani.
Not content with asserting the influence of the stars and planets upon natural things, they maintained that this extended to mankind too. Thus, knowing only the place and date of birth of an individual, they endeavoured to determine what would be the celestial effects upon that person's life, including, for instance, his character, health, fortune and misfortune, time of death, and so on and so forth.
"What does that have to do with gazetteers?"
"It has very much to do with them. For some astrologers are also gazetteers, and on the basis of the influences of the stars, they devise their political prophesies. Just like Stilone Priaso, who goes about imprudently with an almanack of horoscopes in his pocket and by night has forecasts printed."
"And is this prohibited?"
"Absolutely prohibited. It is not at all unusual for judicial astrologers and their friends, including ecclesiastics, to be meted out severe punishments. A few years ago, the problem caught my attention and I read something on the matter. Pope Alexander III, for example, suspended for one year a priest who had had recourse to astrology, despite the fact that the priest's purpose had been to recover the spoils of a theft perpetrated in his church."
Anxiously I turned the little volume confiscated from Stilone over and over in my hands, raising it to the light of the lantern.
"Almanacks like this," said Atto "I have already seen by the dozen. Some bear titles like Astrological Jests ox Astrological Phantasies, in order to allay the suspicion that they might deal with more serious matters, like judicial astrology, which is, however, capable of influencing political decisions. In themselves, admittedly, these are innocuous manuals containing advice and speculation about the current year, but certainly our Stilone can be no model of shrewdness," mocked the abbot, "if, with the dangerous trade he is plying, he haunts clandestine printing presses with such material upon his person!"
Frightened, I immediately returned the slender booklet to Atto.
"No, no, of course you can keep it," he reassured me.
Out of prudence, I nevertheless slipped it into my breeches, under my clothing.
"Do you yourself think that astrology can really be of use?" I asked.
"No, I do not. But I do know that many physicians take it seriously. I know that Galen wrote an entire book De diebus criticis, on the cures to be applied to the sick depending upon the positions of the planets. I am no astrologer, but I do know that some argue, for instance, that in order to cure bile, it is good that the moon should be in..."
"In Cancer."
We were both taken short by Ugonio's interjection.
"With the moon in Cancer, where it is domiciled, (or with Mercury) in trine," continued the corpisantaro's viscous, inspissated muttering, "the bile may felicitously be purged; with the sun in sextile, or trine, the phlegm; where there is an aspect of Jupiter, melancholy; in the sign of Draco, in Capricorn and in Aries, ruminant signs, subversion will be provoked the closer one approaches the septentrional, or austral constitution (for the vitiated humours flow in pairs) and in those boreal, increased impression and compression will provoke flux and distillation, wherefore evacuation is not to be attempted in those who are beset by the fluxes; it will therefore be beneficial and necessary to observe the aspects signified, if one is not to be a rustic physician, and would obtain more benefice than malefice, and be more padre than parricide, appeasing one's conscience, for by fulfilling one's obligations the Christian's jubilations are increased, and by decreasing the scrupules so as not to increase one's scruples, and applying the most appropriate, and indigent remedies: if, for example, one has recourse to magisterial julep."
We both remained speechless.
"Well, well, here we have a veritable expert on medical astrology," commented Abbot Melani an instant later. "And where did you learn all these precious notions?"
"Gfrrrlubh," interjected Ciacconio.
"We have multiplicated our knowingness by the lecture and memorisation of foliables."
"Foliables?" asked Atto.
Ciacconio indicated the little book in his hand.
"Ah, you mean books. Come along, boy, let us not tarry: I fear that Cristofano may take a look around the inn. It would be difficult to explain our absence."
"Stilone Priaso, too, was absent."
"No longer, I trust. After his encounter with our two little monsters he will surely have regained the hostelry as fast as his legs will carry him."
Stilone Priaso, Atto continued, had come to Rome in pursuit of his trade of judicial astrologer, in other words a nefarious business. He therefore needed a discreet way out of the Donzello at night. He must previously have discovered the underground route, since he said he had already stayed at the Donzello.
"Do you think that Stilone had something to do with the assassination of Signor di Mourai and the theft of my little pearls?"
"It is too early to tell. We must think a little about him. He will surely have visited the underground galleries any number of times. We have no such good fortune. Curses! If only we had the map prepared by Ugonio and Ciacconio, however messy and confused, that would give us an immense advantage. Fortunately, we had at least one other advantage: we knew that Stilone had been in the underground galleries, whereas he did not know about us.
"Meanwhile," added the abbot, "before you go to bed, go and take a look at him. I do not trust these two individuals," said he, turning to indicate the grinning faces of the corpisantari who followed us.
We returned all the way along the subterranean passage until we reached the mouth of the narrow hole which led to the ruins of Domitian's stadium, under the Piazza Navona. Atto dismissed the two corpisantari, making an appointment with them for an hour after nightfall the next evening, and promising a reward.
"Gfrrrlubh," protested Ciacconio.
The two corpisantari demanded the return of the page from the Bible. Atto, however, decided to keep it, since he had still not established its provenance, and indeed he handed it over to me to keep carefully. He did, nevertheless, offer the corpisantari monetary compensation.
"Fair is fair, after ail, you did prepare the plan," said he cordially as he took out the money.
Suddenly, Abbot Melani's eyes narrowed. He bent down and picked up a lump of earth which he threw at Ciacconio's shoulder, while the latter remained petrified with surprise. Then he took the page from the Bible, opened it and pressed it against Ciacconio's rustic cloak, at the point where he had just soiled it.
"Beasts, animals, bastards," said he, looking at them disdainfully. Motionless, the pair meekly awaited punishment. On the sheet of paper, a sort of dense labyrinth remained imprinted, the shape of which was all too familiar.
"Remember: never again try that kind of thing on me. Never."
He then fell silent, returning to his pocket the money which he had prepared for Ugonio and Ciacconio.
"Do you understand?" he asked me later, after their departure. "They wanted to cheat us like two idiots. They pressed the sheet of paper onto that sort of goatskin they wear. They then added a couple of scribbles, and there is your precious plan of subterranean Rome. But I—oh no!—I am not so easily duped. The figure in the middle of the map was an exact mirror image of a piece of patching on Ciacconio's shoulder: that is how I found them out!"
Exhausted, we returned to the Donzello in silence, in the depths of night.
1 was climbing the stairs after leaving Atto when, on the second floor, I glimpsed a faint gleam coming from Stilone Priaso's chamber. I remembered Abbot Melani's recommendation that I should keep an eye on the young Neapolitan. I approached the door which was slightly ajar, trying to look in.
"Who is there?" I heard him ask in a trembling voice.
I announced myself and entered. He huddled in his bed, pale and dirt-stained. In the semi-darkness, I pretended not to notice this.
"What are you doing awake at this hour, my boy?"
"My master wanted to relieve himself," I lied. "And you?"
"I... I have had a terrible nightmare. Two monsters attacked me in the dark, and then they robbed me of my books and of all the money I had on me."
"Your money too?" I asked, remembering that Ugonio and Ciacconio had made no mention of that.
"Yes, and then they asked me... well, they tortured me and gave me no quarter."
"That is terrible. You should rest."
"Impossible, I can still see them before my eyes," said he, shivering, fixing an indefinite point in the dark.
"I too have had some strange dreams recently," said I, in order to distract him, "the meaning of which was incomprehensible."
"The meaning..." repeated Stilone Priaso in a daze. "You cannot understand the meaning of dreams. You would need an expert in oneiromancy; but a real one, not a charlatan or a harlot trying to extort money from you."
I blushed on hearing these words and tried to change the subject.
"If you are not tired, I could keep you company for a while. I, too, have no desire to return to sleep tonight," I suggested, in the hope of being able to converse with the Neapolitan and perhaps to obtain from him some information useful to Abbot Melani's inquiries.
"That would not displease me. Indeed, it would be a great help to me if you could brush my clothes while I wash."
He rose and, after undressing, went to the wash-bowl, where he began to rinse his muddy hands and head. On his bed, where he had left me his clothing and a brush, I discovered a notebook on which a number of strange signs were drawn. Nearby, a number of old books, of which I scanned the titles: Myrotecium, Reverberant Chemicall Proto- Light and, finally Horoscopant Physicka/lAnti-Lampion.
"Are you interested in alchemy and horoscopes?" I asked, struck by these obscure titles.
"No, no," exclaimed Stilone turning round with a start. "It is just that they are written in rhyme and I was consulting them for inspiration. You are aware that I am a poet?
"Ah yes," said I, pretending to believe him, while 1 laboured with the brush. "And besides, astr
ology, if I am not mistaken, is forbidden."
"That is not exactly the case," he retorted crossly. "Only judicial astrology is prohibited."
In order not to alarm him, I pretended to be completely ignorant of the matter and thus Stilone Priaso, while rubbing his head energetically, repeated to me in doctoral tones all that Atto had already told me.
"Finally, about half a century ago," he concluded "Pope Urban VIII, in the very middle of his pontificate, unleashed the full force of his fury against judicial astrologers who, for some thirty years, had enjoyed ever-increasing tolerance and renown, even among cardinals, princes and prelates desirous of obtaining forecasts of their fortunes. It was like an earthquake, so much so that even today whoever reads destinies in the stars runs the gravest of risks."
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