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by Rita Monaldi;Francesco Sorti

  It was with that wise precept in mind that I decided, upon rising, to complete my reading of Stilone Priaso's astrological almanack. My scrupulous teacher was not mistaken: better not to open a book than to read it only in part, thus committing to memory a mere fragment, together with an erroneous judgement. Perhaps, I reflected, the re­maining pages might enable me to gain a more balanced view of the obscure powers which I had hitherto attributed to that mysterious booklet.

  Upon awakening, moreover, I felt less faint than on the preceding mornings; 1 had slept soundly and sufficiently, even after the carousel of stalking and spying and narrow escapes which had led us to follow Dulcibeni the whole way along gallery C until we came to the under­ground river; and, above all, after the surprising revelations concern­ing Devize (and his mysterious rondeau) which the abbot and I had discovered during our return to the inn.

  My mind still refused to dwell upon that intricate story. Yet, now I found an opportunity to finish reading the gazette which the corp­isantari had taken from Stilone Priaso, and which I still kept under the mattress of my little bed.

  This small volume seemed to have predicted accurately the events of the past few months. Now, I wanted to know what the future held in store for us.

  So 1 read the predictions for the third week of September, which would soon be upon us.

  The Vaticinations which are to be conjectured from the Starres will, during this

  Week, be given principally by Mercury, which will receive two Luminaries in

  its Domiciles and, being in the Third House, in Coniunction with the Sunne, promises Voyages undertaken by Princes, the Sending of volumi­nous Dispatches and divers Royall Embassies.

  Jupiter and Venus conjoined seek to bring together in the Igneous Trine an Assembly of the Virtuous to treat of a League, or a Peace of great Importance.

  My attention was drawn at once to "Voyages undertaken by Princes, the Sending of voluminous Dispatches" and "Royall Embassies" and no doubt remained in my mind: these must be the dispatches announcing the outcome of the battle for Vienna, which must by then have been decided.

  Soon, indeed, a multitude of mounted messengers, perhaps despatched by the very sovereigns and princes who had taken part in the fray, would spread across Europe, bearing the verdict in three days to Warsaw, in five, to Venice, in eight or nine to Rome and Paris, and later still to London and Madrid.

  Once again, the author of the almanack had found his mark: not only had he foreseen a great battle, but the frenetic spreading of the news on the morrow of the final clash.

  And was not the "Assembly of the Virtuous to treat of a League, or a Peace of great Importance" of which the Almanack spoke, the peace treaty which would surely be sealed between victors and van­quished?

  I read on, coming to the fourth and last week of September:

  Ill Tidings for the Sick may be received during this fourth Weeke of Sep­tember, since the Sun rules the Sixth House and has given over the care of the Infirm to Saturn; hence, there shall reign Quartan Fevers, Fluxes, Dropsy, Swellings, Sciatica, Gout and Pain caused by the Stone. Jupiter, however, rules the Eighth House and will soon bring Health to many Patients.

  There would, then, be other threats to health: fevers, disturbanc­es in the circulation of the humours, excessive water on the stomach, pains in the bones, legs and bowels.

  These were all grave threats; yet, according to the almanack, they were not insuperable. The worst was indeed still to come:

  The first Tidings of this Weeke may be somewhat violent, for they will be sent by Mars, the Ruler of the Ascendant, who, being in the Eighth House, may cause us to hear of the Deathe of Men by Poyson, Steele or Fire. Saturn in the Sixth House, which rules over the Twelfth House, promises Deathe to certain enclosed Noblemen.

  Upon reading those last words, I became breathless. I threw the gazette far from me and, with clasped hands, implored heaven's aid. Perhaps nothing that I had read in the course of my life so marked my soul as those few, cryptic lines.

  "Violent" events were, then, brewing; such as "the Death of Men by Poyson, Steele or Fire". Death was destined for "enclosed Noble­men": some of the guests at the Donzello were certainly noble and, for sure, all were "enclosed" because of the quarantine!

  If ever I had needed another proof that the almanack (the work of the Devil!) foretold events, here I had it: it spoke of us, cloistered in the Donzello by the pestilence, and of the death of certain gentle­men among us.

  Violent death, and by poison: and had not Superintendent Fou­quet perhaps been poisoned?

  I knew that a good Christian must not yield to despair, even when his plight is most tragic. I would, however, be lying if I were to pre­tend that I faced these unheard-of revelations with manly dignity. Never had I felt myself so abandoned, despite my foundling's con­dition, in thrall to stars which, for who knows how many centuries, perhaps since their course began, had determined my destiny.

  Overcome by terror and desperation, I grasped the old rosary which I had received as a gift from the pious woman who had raised me, kissed it passionately and pocketed it. I recited three paternos­ters and realised that, in my fear of the stars, I had entertained doubts about divine providence, which every Christian should acknowledge as his sole guide. I felt a burning need to purge my soul and to re­ceive the comfort of the Faith: the time had come for Confession before God; and, thank heaven, there was in the hostelry someone who could help me.

  "Well, come in my son, you are right to cleanse your soul at a time as difficult as this."

  As soon as he had heard the reason for my visit, Robleda wel­comed me to his little chamber with great benevolence. The secret of Confession melted my heart and loosed my tongue and I honoured the sacrament with ardour and commitment.

  Once he had given me absolution, he asked me the origin of so many sinful doubts.

  Without mentioning the almanack, I reminded Robleda that a while before, he had spoken to me of the predictions concerning the

  Angelic Pope and this conversation had caused me to meditate long on the topic of fate and predestination. During the course of these cogitations, the thought had come to me that some held all sublu­nary things to be determined by the influence of the stars, so that such events could be adequately foretold. I knew that the Church rejected such views, which indeed belonged among the doctrines to be condemned. Yet, the physician Cristofano had assured me that as­trology could do much for medical practice, and was therefore a good and useful thing. That was why, torn between such conflicting views, I had thought to ask Robleda to enlighten and counsel me.

  "Bravo, my boy, we must always turn to Mother Church when confronting the many and various uncertainties of existence. I can understand that, here in this hostelry, with such comings and go­ings of travellers, you should have heard speak of the illusions which soothsayers, astrologers and necromancers of all sorts spread among simple souls. You must not listen to such chatter. There exist two forms of astrology, one false and one true. The first sets out, on the basis of men's date of birth, to foretell the events in their lives and their future behaviour. This is a false and heretical doctrine, which, as you know, has long been forbidden. There is, however, a good and true astrology, the aim of which is to investigate the power of the stars through the investigation of nature, for the purpose, not of pre­diction, but the accumulation of knowledge. And if one thing is abso­lutely certain, it is that the stars do influence things here on earth."

  In the first place, declared Robleda, glad of the opportunity to hold forth and to show off his science, we have the ebb and flow of the tides, known to all and caused by the mysterious influence of the moon. Likewise, mention should be made of the metals in the deep bowels of the earth, reached neither by the light nor the heat of the sun, and which must therefore be produced thanks to the influence of the stars. Many other experiences, too, (which he could have listed ad abundantiam) would be difficult to explain without admitting the intervention of celestial influ
ences. Even that modest little plant, penny-royal (or Menthapulegium), according to Cicero in De Divinatione, flowers only at the winter solstice—on the shortest day of the year. Other demonstra­tions of the power of heavenly bodies over bodies terrestrial could be drawn from meteorology: the rising and setting of the seven stars situated at the head of the constellation of Taurus, which the Greeks called the Hyades, are usually accompanied by abundant rainfall. And what can be said of the animal kingdom? It is well known that, with the waxing and waning of the moon, oysters, crabs and other similar creatures lose vital energy and vigour. What Cristofano had said was, moreover, true: Hippocrates and other highly skilful physicians knew that dramatic shifts took place in the progression of illnesses at the solstices and equinoxes. All of this was, said the Jesuit, in accord­ance with the teaching of the angelic doctor, Saint Thomas, and with that of Aristotle, in the Meteora, and was confirmed by many other philosophers, including Domingo Soto, Iavello, Dominique Bagnes, and I could have learned far more, had I read The True and False Astrology, a wise and truthful volume by his brother Jesuit Giovanni Battista Grassetti; which had gone to press only a few months previously.

  "But if, as you say, good astrology is not in conflict with the Chris­tian religion," I objected, "then there must exist a Christian astrology."

  "And it does indeed exist," replied Robleda, now indulging him­self in the display of his own knowledge, "and it is a pity that I do not have with me the Enriched Christian Zodiac or the Twelve Signs of Divine Predestination, a work of the purest doctrine and the product of the ingenuity of my brother Jeremiah Drexel, published in this holy city some forty years ago."

  In that volume, explained Robleda, the twelve signs of the astrological tradition were at last replaced by as many symbols of the One True Religion: a burning candle, a skull, a golden ciborium of the Eucharist, a bare, unveiled altar, a rosebush, a fig tree, a tobacco plant, a cypress, two lances conjoined with a crown of olive leaves, a scourge, with fasces, an anchor and a shield.

  "And would these be the signs of the Christian zodiac?" I inquired, full of wonderment.

  "More than that: each of these is the symbol of the eternal values of the Faith. The burning candle represents the inner light of the immortal soul, as it is written Lucerna pedibus meis verbum tuum et lumen semitis meis, the cranium symbolises meditation upon death, the golden ciborium represents the frequency of Confession and Communion, the altar... Look, you have dropped something."

  In drawing the rosary from my pocket, some of the leaves found by Ugonio and Ciacconio, which I kept in the same pocket, had fallen to the ground.

  "Oh, it is nothing," I lied. "It is... a curious spice which they gave me at the market on the Piazza Navona a few weeks ago."

  "Give it to me," quoth Robleda, almost tearing one of the leaves from my hand. He turned it over several times in his hand, visibly astonished.

  "How curious," said he, at length. "I wonder how it came to be here."

  "Why?"

  "It is a plant that does not grow in Europe. It comes from far over­seas, from Peru in the Western Indies."

  "And what is it called?"

  "Mamacoca."

  Padre Robleda then told me the surprising story of mamacoca, an unusual little plant which was to have much importance in the events of the days that followed.

  In the beginning, he informed me, when the Western Indies were conquered and the local savages (followers of false religions and cultivators of blasphemy) duly subjugated, no sooner had the Jesuit missionaries undertaken the holy work of evangelisation than they passed at once to the study of the innumerable varieties of plants of the New World. It was an endless universe: while the ancient and authoritative Materia Medica of Dioscurides mentioned some three hundred plants in all, the physician Francisco Hernandez had in the seventeen volumes of his Historia Natural de las Indias counted over three thousand plant species.

  In the midst of all these marvellous discoveries, grave dangers were however concealed. It was in fact impossible for the colonists to distinguish between plants and drugs, between infusions and poi­sons, and, in the native population, between physicians and necro­mancers. The villages abounded in wizards who swore that, through the power of herbs and roots, they could raise the Demon or foretell the future.

  "Like the astrologers!" I exclaimed, hoping to discover some con­nection with the events which had taken place at the Donzello.

  "No, no, astrology has nothing to do with this," replied Robleda, disappointing my hopes. "I am speaking of far graver matters."

  According to the magicians, it seems, every single plant could be used in two ways: to cure an illness or to see the Devil. And in the In­dies, there seemed to abound plants suited to the second purpose.

  Donanacal (thus, Padre Robleda seemed to me to pronounce the exotic name), which the Indians called the "wonder mushroom" was held to be able to bring about communication with Satan. The same suspicion hung over oliuchi seeds and another mushroom known as peyote. A plant called paté was used by the magicians to listen to the fallacious oracles of the Inferno.

  The Inquisition therefore decided to burn all the fields cultivated with forbidden plants, along with, from time to time, a few magicians. But the fields were too extensive and the magicians too numerous.

  "Fears arose for the integrity of Christian doctrine!" whispered Robleda, his voice burdened with concern, waving the leaf of mama-coca under my nose as though to put me on guard against the Evil One.

  Because of these accursed plants, the tale resumed, even converted and baptised savages blasphemed against the holy name of the doctors of the Church. Some of these held that Saint Bartholomew had trav­elled to America for the sole purpose of discovering plants possessed of miraculous powers, and that Saint Thomas had also preached in Brazil, where he had found trees, the leaves of which were mortal poison, but that he had toasted these on fire and had transformed them into a wonder-working medicine. The natives converted to our faith then used a number of potent drugs during prayer: something obviously prohibited by doctrine. In sum, new heresies spread, which were both unusual and most pernicious.

  "There were even those who taught new gospels," said Robleda in a trembling voice, returning the little leaf to me with an expres­sion of disgust, as though it were pestiferous. "In these blasphemous gospels," he continued, crossing himself, "it was said that Christ, as soon as he attained manhood, had been compelled to flee because the devils had attacked him in order to steal his soul. Mary, when she returned home and did not find her son, mounted a donkey and set out in search of him. Soon, however, she lost her way and entered a forest where, out of hunger and desperation, she felt herself growing ever more faint. Jesus saw her in that state and came to her aid: he blessed a mamacoca bush which grew nearby. The donkey was drawn to that bush and would not leave it; thus, Mary understood that it had been blessed for her. She chewed a few leaves and, as if by a miracle, felt neither hunger nor weariness. She continued on her way until she came to a village where some women offered her food. Mary replied that she was not hungry and showed the blessed branch of mamacoca. She handed a leaf to the women, saying: 'Sow this, it will put forth roots and a bush will grow.' The women did as Mary had said and four days later a bush sprang up, laden with fruit. From the fruit came the seeds for the cultivation of mamacoca, of which women have been devotees ever since."

  "But that is monstrous!" I commented. "Thus to blaspheme against the Madonna and Our Lord Jesus Christ, saying that they fed on witches' plants..."

  "You have spoken well, it is indeed monstrous," said Robleda wip­ing the perspiration from his cheeks and his brow, "nor was that an end to it."

  The prohibited specialities were so numerous that the colonists (and even the Jesuits, said Robleda resignedly) were completely una­ble to maintain any control over events. Who could safely distinguish oliuchi from donanacal, peyote from cocoba, paté from cola, opium from maté, or guarana from mamacoca?

  "Was mamacoca
used for prayer, too?"

  "No, no," he replied with an air of slight embarrassment, "it was used for another purpose."

  The leaves of that seemingly innocent bush, said the Jesuit, had the stupefying power to annul weariness, remove all hunger and make those who took it euphoric and vigorous. Mamacoca also, as the Jesuits themselves had discovered, calmed pain, gave new strength to broken bones, warmed the limbs and healed old wounds which were beginning to become infested with worms. Last, (and perhaps, according to Padre Robleda, most important), thanks to mamacoca, workers, farm hands and slaves were able to work for hours on end without tiring.

  Among the conquistadores, there were those who thought that this plague should be exploited rather than extirpated. Mamacoca en­abled the Indians to stand up to the most exhausting conditions; and the Jesuit missionaries in the Indies, observed Padre Robleda, were in constant need of labourers.

  Consumption of the plant was therefore made lawful. Native workers were paid in leaves of the plant, which for them were worth more than money, silver, even gold. The clergy had permission to raise tithes on the crop and the revenues of many priests and bishops were paid thanks to the sale of mamacoca.