“Unheard of!” the Prince exclaimed, highly amused.
AFTER HAVING CHECKED the accuracy of the weights, he wanted all of us to try. Kircher climbed onto the pan; it turned out that he had eaten seven pounds of food, which he explained away by claiming that he must have underestimated his weight because he hadn’t weighed himself since leaving Rome. I was not surprised to find that I had only put on one pound, hardly having given a thought to the food during the meal. As for the Princess, she refused to submit to a trial that would have offended the natural coquetry of her sex, but she was readily pardoned her refusal. She retired soon afterward & I followed suit when the Prince intimated that he would like to discuss certain delicate matters with my master.
Once in my room, I examined my soul & realized how much the Princess was bewitching me. Her virtue & her purity seemed exemplary & I felt great satisfaction in being able to recreate her face in my thoughts. I said lengthy prayers and read the Exercises until late into the night. Obeying Saint Ignatius, who says that it is a sin to take less than the adequate amount of sleep, I took off my hair shirt, which was very uncomfortable, & fell asleep.
When I woke next morning I saw that lintea pollueram1 & the thought of having yielded to the devil during the night, even though I had no memory of it, filled me with horror. I put my hair shirt back on & began the day by examining my conscience thoroughly.
That day & the following days up to Christmas I hardly saw Kircher & the Prince at all. They shut themselves away in the library, where they were engaged in mysterious activities; several times workmen came from outside to work with them, which made me suspect some new machine was being invented. Left to my own devices, I had the pleasure of keeping company with the lady who occupied my thoughts; we discussed all kinds of topics, read the new books that had been sent to her or made music. And the Princess seemed to enjoy these innocent pastimes so much that I felt no guilt at all in doing this to lighten her spirits. Every day she became a little more determined to carry out her decision to take the veil with the Sisters of Mercy as soon as Providence gave her the opportunity & I encouraged her in this resolution with all my heart.
The meals did not last as long as on the day of our arrival, the Prince & Kircher ate quickly—when they deigned to leave the library—to return as soon as possible to whatever they were doing. But while the Prince appeared merry as a lark, Kircher seemed to me to be nervous & preoccupied. On the evening of December 23 he came to see me in my room, a little after ten in the evening. His expression was even more serious that usual.
“The die is cast, Caspar, & I fear for the consequences of my actions. The Archenemy can take so many different forms. Accustomed though I am to sniffing out his ruses, I’m not sure I’ll succeed this time. But enough of this faintheartedness! The Prince has invited several people to supper tomorrow night, after midnight mass, which the priest from Bagheria will come to celebrate in the chapel here. You know the Prince’s devious mind & I must repeat the advice to be prudent I gave you when we arrived. Be careful not to pass judgment on the things you will see, nor to offend anyone with overhasty reactions & remember, whatever happens, I take your sins upon myself. It is for the good of the Church that I am doing this, if I am mistaken I alone will take the punishment.”
Alarmed by this, I swore to my master that he could trust me & that I would rather die than disobey his orders.
“You’re a good fellow,” Kircher said, ruffling my hair, “& a better man than I am. But prepare yourself for the worst, my child, & do not forget: it is the salvation of the Church that is at stake.”
Then he knelt down & we prayed for two hours without stopping.
The morning of December 24 was so gray and cold that the fires were lit throughout the house. The kitchen staff had set to work, the servants were going backward & forward between the house & the park gate, from which they returned loaded with provisions, the whole building seemed to vibrate with the bustling preparations for the festival. Kircher was chatting with the Prince in the library; as for me, I was meditating on the Nativity, preparing myself as best I could to celebrate the arrival of Our Lord.
I was at peace with myself when my master came to fetch me in the middle of the afternoon.
The guests started to arrive, some had already gathered in small groups in the various drawing rooms. The great hall had been opened up & I could not but be astounded by it: imagine a vast rotunda with a cupola covered in hundreds of mirrors attached side by side to make a concave surface. Five large crystal chandeliers covered in candles hung down from it. The walls were composed of genuine & perfect imitation marble with niches containing polychrome busts of the most famous philosophers of Antiquity. And the Prince had had no qualms about placing busts of himself & his wife in a slightly more richly decorated recess above the entrance, together with a motto: “Reflected in the remarkable magnificence of these mirrors, contemplate, O mortals, the image of human frailty.” I also saw a number of coats of arms painted in fresco with various devices of the type Kircher had deciphered when we first arrived. The floor, inlaid with mahogany & rosewood, shone splendidly. All this, however was not quite in the best of taste: there was a little too much ostentation & not enough genuine beauty; but the mirrors, multiplying colors, lights and movements ad infinitum, created a truly magical atmosphere. A small orchestra, with the musicians dressed as characters from a Roman tragedy, was playing quietly.
When the Prince saw us, he bustled over &, requesting silence, introduced Kircher to the assembled company; this was a new Archimedes, the glory of the age, & he was honored by his presence & his friendship. There was some discreet applause then the conversations resumed, even livelier than before. We sat down on one of the benches in the hall & the Prince told us about those he had invited for that evening.
There was Sieur La Mothe Le Vayer, known for his dialogues in the style of Latin & Greek authors; Count Manuel Cuendias de Teruel y de Casa-Pavòn; Denys Sanguin de Saint-Pavin, whose reputation for debauchery went ahead of him; Jean-Jacques Bouchard, a notorious libertine; a few poets & scholars & a swarm of ladies & petty marquis whose titles would have choked even the most robust master of ceremonies. All were intimate enough acquaintances of the Prince to be spared the usual humiliating tricks.
When the night was well advanced, the Prince, without a word, finger on his lips, shepherded us all into the hall of mirrors & suddenly had all the candles snuffed & the doors closed. Hardly had we been plunged into total darkness than the Virgin Mary appeared to us, life-sized & radiant with light, as if she were floating on one of the walls. We could clearly see the blue of her shawl & the rosy hue of her face—she seemed alive! Murmurs of amazement could be heard all around me. The Princess, startled, had taken my arm & was gripping it very tightly. I was already wagering that my master was not without involvement in this miracle, when his voice was heard, greatly amplified by some device or other & echoing all around the cupola.
“Do not fear, all you who can hear me, there is nothing in this apparition that cannot be explained by the simple laws of nature. Our host, the Prince, has seen fit to prepare us all for the celebration of the Nativity, let us give him our thanks.”
Immediately another image appeared showing Mary & Joseph on the road to Galilee. After the nativity, then the adoration of the Magi, we were given a summary of the life of Jesus. The music accompanying it suddenly took on such poignant tones at the image of Our Lord dying on the cross, that it brought tears to my eyes, as it did to those of most of the company. After the Ascension, we were plunged into darkness again. The musicians broke into a terrifying piece, rising in a crescendo, & at its peak, at the very moment when the brass & the drums were threatening to bring the house down around our ears, the Devil appeared, surrounded by moving flames, horned, grimacing, horrible to look at!
“The Archenemy!” Kircher bellowed, his stentorian voice drowning out the cries of fright from the audience, “The Tempter! The fallen Angel! The foul Fiend! Repent, all ye
sinners, to escape his clutches & the torments his army of demons is preparing for you in hell! Here come Beydelus, Anamelech, Furfur & Eurynome! Baalberith, the head of the archives of evil! Abaddon, the exterminating angel! Tobhema, Satan’s cook! Philotanus, whose very name fills us with disgust! And then Lilith, Negal & Valafar! Moloch, Murmur, Scox, Empousa & Focalor! Sidragasum, who incites shameless women to dance! Belial, O lewd seducer, Zapam, Xezbeth, Nysrak & Haborym! Get thee away from here, Asmodeus! And thou, Xaphan, return to thy cauldrons! Shades & Striges, fairies, furoles & undines get ye out of our sight!”
The pictures of these demons appeared then disappeared as my master named them, only increasing the terror around me. I felt the Princess trembling against my arm. After them it was hell, depicted with gripping realism. Myriads of naked bodies were being subjected to the most abominable tortures, suffering through that by which they had sinned. We could see all types of depravity punished appropriately without being spared anything of the torments awaiting the damned in the world beyond. But however deep an impression the images of the demons had made on the audience, the depiction of the vices & their punishment appeared to excite them equally. I found the chuckles and laughs I could hear around me offensive, everywhere I could see smiling faces &, here and there, wandering hands …
But soon, as the music cut off a last image of the torments with the common chord, Athanasius asked everyone to join him in reciting the Anima Christi. Without further ado the text of this beautiful prayer appeared on the wall, translated line by line into seven languages:
Soul of Christ, sanctify me,
Body of Christ, save me,
Blood of Christ, inebriate me,
Water from the side of Christ, wash me,
Passion of Christ, fortify me,
O good Jesus, hear me,
Within Thy wounds hide me,
Never let me be parted from Thee,
From the evil enemy defend me,
In the hour of my death call me,
Command me to come to Thee,
That with Thy saints I may praise Thee,
World without end,
Amen.
And the fervor with which the prayer was said by everyone there, the emotion welling up from the voices resounding under the mirror cupola was certainly the most satisfying of rewards for Athanasius.
ON THE RIVER PARAGUAY: A kind of red flash among the Nile-green palisades of the jungle
Scattered over the saloon table, several books on micropaleontology, five or six specimens of Corumbella, a powerful magnifying glass and drawing materials had easily created a familiar working environment. For the umpteenth time Mauro was reading Dietlev’s report to the Brazilian Academy of Sciences.
Elaine’s voice came from behind him: “Still at work, then?”
Mauro smiled and shook his head. “Not really … I was daydreaming. We’ve been on this boat for a week now and I’m starting to feel I’ve been here forever. A bit as if we’re never going to arrive anywhere, nor ever get back …”
“I must be less of a romantic,” she said with a hint of mockery, “because I can’t wait to get to our destination. God knows what we’ll find up there. The fossil Dietlev got his hands on is so much older than Corumbella; if we find the deposit, it’s more or less certain we’ll discover other species from the same period. It would revolutionize the whole of paleontology.”
“I know that, but it doesn’t have to stop me enjoying the present moment, does it?”
“Carpe diem, you mean? It’s a bit difficult when even the shower water’s moldy and we’ve been eating nothing but piranha … And then”—she glanced over his shoulder—“I don’t like this Petersen. He’s obnoxious, even when he’s making an effort to be nice. I can’t stand any more of him.”
“I agree with you there. I’ve hardly ever met anyone I’ve taken such an instant dislike to. I could do without—”
Mauro was interrupted by a dull rattle followed by a longer burst that made the metal side of the boat ring.
“What was that?” Elaine asked in an automatic reflex.
Mauro didn’t reply but she could tell by his expression that he too had identified it: the sound of an automatic rifle. With two minds but a single thought, they ran up on deck. A flight of frightened birds was still pouring out of the jungle, like a pillow case being torn open.
“Quick! Lie down!” Milton screamed, flat on his front along the rail. “They’re firing at us!”
“Don’t panic, don’t panic, Senhor Professor,” said Petersen calmly as he came out of the wheelhouse. “They didn’t fire at us, they fired in front of us, it’s a signal from my Paraguayan friends. You can get up. I’ll go and have a chat with them and it’ll be OK, you’ll see. It’ll take an hour at most … There’s no need to worry,” he said, seeing Mauro and Elaine, “you’re under my protection. Stay calm and nothing’ll happen to you. I’ll go in the dinghy, it won’t take long.”
Dietlev’s deep voice was suddenly heard. “I’ll go with you?”
Herman turned around, looking furious, as if no one had ever asked him anything so unreasonable. “But of course, come and have a cup of tea, they’ll be delighted to make your acquaintance … Now could we be serious? You help that stupid Indian keep the gunboat in the current. We can’t anchor here, the riverbed’s too unstable.”
Without waiting, Petersen went to the stern. They watched him climb over the rail to get on the dinghy, then heard him start the outboard motor. The inflatable soon appeared and went past them at great speed upriver, toward a little beach concealed among the tangle of mangroves. After having landed, Petersen quickly moored his boat and immediately vanished, as if swallowed up by the undergrowth.
“Where were you?” Elaine asked Dietlev.
“In the wheelhouse with Herman and Yurupig.”
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Milton broke in irritably. He was still pale from the fright.
“I assure you it’s just something very … South American,” said Dietlev, keeping his tone light. There’s some hunters around here, guys from Paraguay who smuggle out crocodile skins. From what I’ve heard, they’re also dealing in cocaine to supplement their income. Our dear captain has gone to see to his business with them and until we hear otherwise, it’s nothing to do with us.”
“Crocodiles!” Mauro exclaimed, suddenly angry. “The bastards! And no one comes to check up on this illegal trade?”
“Not really, no. They’re real professionals. They were parachuted in two or three years ago and cleared a portion of the jungle, enough to make a landing strip for their Piper, then they set about their dirty work. It you must know, they hunt with Kalashnikovs. Since several boats, including one from the customs, came under fire from heavy machine guns, no one comes up here. No honest people, anyway. And as they grease the palms of certain local officials, it’s not going to change in the near future …”
“It’s unbelievable! Unbelievable … I can’t get over it,” said Milton, stunned. “And you brought us here! How did you find out about all this?”
Dietlev hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, just long enough for Mauro to realize he wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“From Petersen, of course. He knew we were going to a zone they control; the landscape changes very quickly around here and it’s practically impossible to find a precise spot from one week to the next. As I’m the one who hired him, he warned me he might have to pick up some parcels around here …”
“At least you could have warned us.”
“I didn’t realize they would give us such a noisy welcome. There was no reason to be afraid, and there still isn’t. As soon as Petersen gets back, we’ll be on our way as if nothing had happened. It’s not our job to uphold the law out here, is it? So we’ll just calm down and wait, without pointless recriminations.” Then, with a pleasant smile, he added, “Fix us a drink, I’m going to go and see how Yurupig’s getting on.”
“Just a moment,” sa
id Elaine in a strange voice. “What’s that thing supposed to mean?”
All eyes turned in the direction she was pointing: a hundred yards behind the boat, where the banks made a bottleneck, a tree trunk had been thrown across the river. Pregnant with silent threat, its inexplicable presence meant there was no way back down the river.
YURUPIG HAVING NO need of anyone with him at the helm, they went down to the saloon to establish their position. First of all Dietlev showed them where they were on the satellite maps he had brought: “I’ve been checking our position as we’ve proceeded. That’s where the river narrows and that white patch there, a little to the northeast, is probably their landing strip. We can’t be more than three days away from our destination. OK, let’s summarize the situation: Petersen’s been gone more than an hour and there’s no way of turning back—which is somewhat disturbing, I agree, even if it’s probably no more than a simple protective measure—”
“A simple protective measure?!” Milton broke in, close to hysteria. “Are you joking? We’re trapped and all you can say is: ‘a simple protective measure!’ ”
Dietlev made an effort to remain calm. “Just think about it, Milton. They know it’s Petersen’s boat, but they don’t know who’s on board. They must know what type of person they’re dealing with; just imagine if Herman double-crossed them, if the authorities made it worth his while to bring the police up here, or even the army. What would you do in their place? These guys are well organized, their survival depends on it.”
“And if Herman doesn’t come back?” Elaine asked calmly.
“He will come back. Or, at the worst, they’ll come. Whatever, there’s nothing we can do, so there’s no point in making ourselves scared stiff while we wait. Tomorrow we’ll all be laughing at the whole business.”
“We’re at their mercy,” Milton said, “and you couldn’t give a damn. Well I do. It’s all your fault and I can assure you, Dietlev, as soon as we get back you’re really in for it. I’ll have you thrown out of the university.”
Where Tigers Are at Home Page 22