The Hermeporta Beyond the Gates of Hermes

by Hogarth Brown

  The guests had eaten their fill from the delicious bounty in front of them. One by one they began to drift away from the table to either rest on chairs near the fireplace or partake of the tour to view the Medici’s ever expanding art collection. Orsini sat back from the dining table, to recline on a chair sat next to a clerical official from the Vatican. Orsini nodded at the words of the cleric as he prattled on, and breathed deep, while he kept a sharpened eye on Illawara and her entourage, as they moved position and were then on Orsini’s side of the table. To his eyes, Illawara seemed to be asking the Earl to accompany her on the tour of the collection. Orsini observed the Earl fidget, give a stiff smile, but then clench his hand into a fist under the table, unwilling to break off his intense conversation with Galileo and Cardinal Barberini.

  Orsini saw the youth by her side coax her away in the direction of the gallery space. Illawara had resisted his tugs before she gave way. Antonio hung back and continued to listen to the conversation, rapt, before making a slow walk in the direction of the gallery and his friends.

  ‘You see, your Eminence’ the cleric said to interrupt the Cardinal’s silence, ‘the Protestants cannot be allowed to strangle the Church and her ways. Our traditions must be maintained. We need to become strong to be worthy of her. Every day we learn that Venice still gives protection infidels and our enemies.’ Orsini nodded in vague agreements to the cleric:

  ‘The Church will survive, Niccolo. Every day we do our best to strengthen her. God be praised’ said Orsini, before he stood up, broke off the conversation, and followed Antonio out of the room. The Cardinal then made powerful strides toward the blond man ahead: ‘I see that you’re fond of this place’ said Orsini, in catching up on the side of Antonio, but the young man leapt back as if stabbed.

  ‘Uh, pardon me, your Eminence, I didn’t see you.' Antonio’s skin began to prickle, and a bead of sweat began to form at his back under the pincered gaze of the Cardinal, as the older man paused to size him up.

  ‘It takes either a brave or foolish man to test his fate here with the nature of your disgrace’, said Orsini. The colour washed out of Antonio’s face before the Cardinal continued, ‘yet I’m told you’re rarely far from Court here’ he purred. Antonio gritted his teeth and clenched his fists till his knuckles bleached, but tried to measure his words.

  ‘If that’s so’ he swallowed, ‘then I’m in good company.’ Antonio glared back at the Cardinal before the older man snarled,

  'There are too many of your sort cluttering up these noble houses.'

  ‘I have every right to be here, or any other noble house: it’s my birth right’ said Antonio. Orsini huffed, but Antonio raised his chin, ‘my mother loved as much as any woman and bore myself and her shame till it broke her. Are her exile and demise not sacrifice enough? Or do hypocritical jackals still wish to chew on her reputation?’ Antonio’s face glowed red. The Cardinal narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue across his teeth:

  ‘My, oh, my, it seems you’ve inherited a healthy dose of your mother’s haughtiness, and your father’s pride’ said the Cardinal.

  ‘Do you know my father?’ said the younger man, looking frantic, and Orsini gestured with his hand to calm Antonio down and then turned the other to move them both on. As the pair walked, they grew nearer to the back of a large group attending the tour, and Orsini maintained a vigil to keep Illawara in his sights. Orsini lowered his voice before he spoke again:

  ‘There are few who didn’t know your father my child.’ Antonio’s eyes widened. The Cardinal stopped walking to fix the young man, and then Antonio, for the first time, noticed the trapped brown flecks in the Cardinals glistening eyes and felt himself to be in the nest of an eagle. ‘Your father long survived the scandal and still lives.’ Antonio rested his palm on a wall to gather his breath, Orsini stood, unflinching, and gazed on, ‘I have a proposition for you’ he said. Orsini then placed a firm hand on Antonio’s shoulder and squeezed, ‘a truth for a truth’ added the Cardinal in his deep baritone, his eyes not leaving Antonio’s face for a moment, ‘it moves me so to see you suffer my child.’ Antonio doubted the sentiment and looked up to the ceiling at a new baroque fresco of a stag being chased by hounds, and wondered what Orsini wished to extract from him. ‘Speak to me and do not lie’ Orsini continued, ‘who is the Englishman, and what brings him here?’ Antonio hesitated,

  ‘That’s a difficult question to answer, your Eminence, as I truly don’t know’, Orsini’s expression flattened.

  ‘Insufficient my child, you can do better than that: you who share travel with all sorts, and welcome all comers, must know more than a little of your travel companions?’ The pair began to walk again with a prompt from Orsini - eager to stay in sight of Illawara as the tour group moved on:

  ‘Truly, your Eminence, I know little of him, as he doesn’t reveal much, but what I do know is that he has a great admiration for the discoveries of Galileo…’

  ‘A heretic’ the Cardinal hissed, ‘I might have guessed that a gullible Protestant would believe the cattle dung of that blasphemer!’ This time Orsini had to correct himself for raising his voice, although unheard by the tour, due to the animated and flowery speech of the tour giver that washed over his attentive audience. Antonio scowled as he looked at the Cardinal.

  ‘I’m told that Galileo is a man of faith, your Eminence, and by all accounts a good Catholic.’ Orsini then waved his finger in the air,

  ‘A good Catholic you say. I was in Rome for his visit in the spring, and not once did I see him at Mass either before or after meeting his Holiness. I’m told he never goes. Philosopher, they call him. He’s little more than a concubine to fortune, an opportunist, a hack improving on the ideas of another for that spy-glass of his; with not one but three illegitimates to have crawled from the womb of his Venetian whore - Gamba.' Orsini’s fist clenched, and his expression darkened as his venom spilt forth, ‘a lifetime of shame couldn’t kill that man.’ Antonio looked on as Orsini frothed, spitting out his words, and waited for the Cardinal’s anger to pass. The Cardinal then recovered, wiped his brow, fussed with his collar, and focused again: ‘forgive me, child, I digress, tell me the name of this common Englishman.’ A look of surprise and mockery gripped Antonio’s face,

  ‘Have your spies at last drawn a blank, your Eminence?’ said Antonio defiant. The Cardinal’s expression twisted into a scowl,

  ‘Impertinent wretch’ hissed Orsini, stepping forward and drawing close enough for Antonio to feel the Cardinal's breath on his neck, ‘don’t toy with me - boy’ he growled. Antonio caught a whiff of the scented orange water on Orsini’s skin and stepped back.

  ‘He's not an everyday man, your Eminence, but an Earl in his land’ Orsini rolled his eyes before replying,

  ‘They all say that. He has poise, but he is not a high-born’ the Cardinal drew close again, ‘I can smell it in a man: there’s better blood in you than in that vagabond.' Antonio pulled his shoulders back and raised his chin at the comment, Orsini observed the effect of his words before he continued,

  ‘he’s an Earl of what my child?’ Antonio squirmed as if Orsini’s eyes penetrated his flesh to the guts.

  ‘He says that he’s the Earl of Oxford.’ Orsini raised his thick eyebrows into high arches,

  ‘Oh does he now - which one?’

  ‘I beg your pardon, your Eminence.’

  ‘Gather your brains boy, and don’t fidget. Which one?’

  Antonio could not see the significance.

  ‘He said he’s the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford, your Eminence.’ With those words, a profound and dark laughter began to rumble out of the Cardinal like a landslide. After composing himself, a look of triumph flashed in the Cardinal's eyes. Orsini then pursed his lips before he brushed some fluff off his velvet robes:

  ‘And the youth, what of him?’ He said. Antonio looked confused,

  ‘But what of the Earl, and what do you know about him?’ Antonio replied,

  ‘That, my child, is none of your busine
ss’ said the Cardinal, ‘but I know what he is not, and I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. Again, I said, what of the youth?’

  ‘He’s called Hermes, your Eminence.’

  ‘A Greek? Is he Orthodox?’ Antonio shrugged.

  ‘I didn’t ask, but he’s the chaperone of Illawara. I’m sure you’ve learnt of her already?’ Orsini squinted, but almost smiled.

  ‘Don’t trifle with me' he breathed, 'the youth I said.’

  Antonio looked down to the floor and coughed,

  ‘He’s her cousin’ Antonio whispered, but Orsini belched laughter in his face,

  ‘And I’m the Pope’s mother’ he scoffed, ‘a likely story.' Antonio didn’t know where to look. Orsini then shifted his head to peer down the hall at the brown-skinned youth next to Illawara, as the tour moved on again to the next artwork.

  ‘He’s a handsome Moor, and finely dressed - I’ll give him that. I’m sure he’ll be well looked after, especially knowing your reputation for care.' Antonio didn’t speak, a deep blush of pink his only response. Orsini smirked but then gave Antonio a vacant expression, ‘you may go now, my child before the group moves too far ahead.’ Antonio looked startled, before he grabbed the Cardinal by the arms:

  ‘But you said a truth for a truth, what of mine? What of my father?’ The Cardinal yanked himself free of Antonio, stepping back, hissing like a panther, before raising his hand,

  'How dare you touch me' Orsini declared with a sneer, 'I've a mind to clout you from here to Rome.' Antonio shrank back in shame, ‘and for that truth you ask, my child, you needn’t look further than the bawdy taverns of Venezia.’ Orsini then brushed himself down as if attacked by fleas. Antonio bit his lip as his eyes welled up, Orsini then looked at him with a flat expression: ‘I think we've spoken enough, let us part for now. Go, join the group, my child.'

  With that statement Orsini waved Antonio off, but the young man glared back and made another step toward the Cardinal. The Cardinal swept his finger in front of Antonio to halt his advance. Antonio stopped, his eyes imploring before he turned and muttered something under his breath that Orsini could not catch and hurried ahead, wiping at his eyes, before he reached the group at the far end of the pictured hall.

  The thin, pale man with watery eyes again joined Orsini, his presence cooled the air, as he seemed to hover between life and death. The Cardinal repressed a shudder when he smelled the man’s body odour. The Cardinal spoke without turning his head: ‘well?’ said Orsini, the henchman mumbled but gave no clear answers. Orsini gave out a grunt, ‘don’t speak to me of news’ he said with eyes like splinters, ‘I’ve learnt in detail what you’ve struggled to define: the Earl’s a cunning fraud.’ The pale man looked over his shoulder as if the Earl were there.

  ‘And what makes you so sure my lord and master?’ said the henchman who had found and organised his words,

  ‘I’m certain because I knew the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford, that talented rogue, in my youth as a student in Verona’ Orsini smirked, ‘the fun we had - too much, too much…’ Orsini looked off into the distance, smiling with his square teeth, and shook his head at the memory before he regained himself enough to continue, ‘so that English Protestant, that fraudster, that wigged peddler, that scrag-end couldn’t possibly be him.'

  ‘How so master?’

  ‘Because the Seventeenth Earl is dead: and that brilliant man could never be impersonated - not in a thousand years.’ The henchman gave a solemn nod.

  ‘I understand, your Eminence’ he said, and awaited instruction.

  ‘When I’ve revealed the fraud, who seems to so enrapture that graceful woman…’

  ‘Do you speak of Illawara, your Eminence?’ Orsini nodded somewhat surprised,

  ‘So you worked that one out’ the Cardinal said. The thin man gave a weak smile of jumbled yellow teeth,

  ‘That was easy, your Eminence: the guests speak of no one else, all wish to know who she is, and the men hatch plots in how to attract her attention - even the old ones.'

  ‘Enough’ said Orsini, with a sweep of his hand, ‘when I’ve exposed the fraud, have him taken away and detained. A night on the wrack should reveal his intentions.’ The pale man gave a bow, ‘leave me now’ Orsini continued, ‘but remember to have the woman followed. I want to know where she’ll stay when she’s without her companion.' With that, the pale man walked into the distance before slithering off down a corridor.

  …

  Later, after the tours had ended, everyone gathered to hear the scientist Galileo debate with a professor from Pisa University. Even Orsini had to admit to himself that Galileo’s demonstrations and arguments on flotation were triumphant. The scientist with his twinkling little eyes had proved himself a master of wit and commanded his subject and his audience with immense skill. He allowed himself to be swayed and even tangled, in the arguments of the hapless philosopher from Pisa, at stages even appearing to endorse his counterpart’s arguments. But then the scientist would erupt and cut through the assumptions of the other professor, with a tongue like a rapier, leaving his opponent’s logic bloodied and tattered.

  Galileo proved to all, beyond doubt, that ice floated because of its mass and not its shape and felled a great tree of Aristotle’s wisdom with one mighty blow. Even Cardinal Barberini, much to Orsini’s annoyance, was asked to join in the debate and offered an opinion, but could only sing his praise for the Physicist.

  Galileo’s triumph, only matched by his opponent’s disgrace, left the assembled audience and the Grand Duke thrilled with the performance of his chief mathematician. Galileo, a short and stout man, moved back from his demonstration table seeming ten feet tall, his opponent, thoroughly beaten, looked withered and bitter from the ordeal. Some members of the clergy took the defeated man off to one side and offered assurances. The group whispered as they eyeballed Galileo, who stood oblivious to their stares, as he spoke to his admirers - bold and blithe - that had gathered around him. More guests accumulated in dispersed clumps around the room eager to talk about what they had seen and fonder still to gossip. The mêlée of people splintered off further during the interlude before the dancing.

  Orsini looked on, and observed the movements of the Earl who had regained a position next to the scientist, and seemed to be delighting him with some insight. He watched Illawara hover near the Earl, like a bee wanting a flower behind a bell glass: ‘you’re beautiful, but blind’ Orsini muttered to himself, as he manoeuvred through the room to get a better look at the Englishman. Hermes assisted again with distraction, and moved Illawara off to a gallery of her new admirers, as Antonio engineered an introduction to the Grand Duke. The men jostled for position, as some female guests, outshone and overlooked, scrutinised Illawara to see how she would conduct herself.

  Orsini placed himself near the vacated table where the scientist had given his demonstration, the floating ice had half melted into the water bath, and to better eavesdrop on Galileo’s conversation with the Earl. Orsini tried to look interested in the scientific instruments that lay about: ‘look at this rubbish’ he whispered to himself as he gazed over the assorted equipment of the scientist, ‘he’s little better than a travelling Quack with his snake oil.’ Orsini then turned his body toward a group that chatted of what they had seen, but twitched his ears to the Earl and Galileo to listen to them:

  ‘You seem well versed in my work and theories’ said the scientist, ‘it’s most refreshing’,

  ‘Indeed I’m an admirer, and I’ve travelled a great distance at much time and expense to be here this evening’ said the Earl. The scientist seemed to twinkle.

  ‘I’m glad to have it confirmed that my work is read, and admired, as far away as England. I guess you read the Venetian publications?’ the Earl nodded, and Galileo sighed, ‘the world seems to move faster every day.' Orsini gritted his teeth.

  ‘It does indeed Professor, more than we know’ said the Earl.

  ‘Alas there are few men of broad mind as yours in Italy, my critics grow eve
r fiercer, ever more resolute to discredit me.’ Galileo then glanced in the direction of his defeated opponent and his clerical supporters that plotted under their breath together in a corner.

  ‘And disgrace is all you deserve’ Orsini almost hissed aloud, before arching forward over the table and cringing as he ran his finger over a thermometer.

  ‘I can assure you that your genius will not be forgotten, already you have your place among your Medici stars’ said the Earl. Galileo laughed, and his little eyes shone,

  ‘They teach great flattery in your land, and I’m encouraged by your confidence, but only the Lord in his great power can know the legacy of such things.'

  The pair continued to talk, and Galileo gushed and wove tapestries of wonder in describing his discoveries of the craters, mountains, and canyons of the moon. Orsini listened, as if the scientist were a dangerous fool, but became more struck by the sheer fluency of the Englishman's Italian. When he looked away, he struggled to tell the difference between the Earl and the native man: there was no difference. The Cardinal moved around the room, between turns here and there, Orsini scrutinised the face and physique of the Englishman.

  ‘Yes he’s tall, athletic and vigorous’ he whispered to himself, ‘but I bettered him in my youth - look at that nose: like the beak of a vulture.’ Orsini skimmed his eyes over the Earl again, shaking his head, ‘why do young women so love a man of fine clothes and flattery?’ The Earl then looked up from his conversation with Galileo as if prodded, and Orsini locked eyes with his rival. Something in the way the candlelight shone up from the small table, that the Earl and the scientist sat at, made his heart stop.