Galileo's Lost Message

by D. Allen Henry

  “Ah, now I understand,” Paul replied, nodding his head in comprehension. “So where was Dante buried originally?”

  “Oh, that tomb does not exist anymore, signore. The room that his remains were in was razed and rebuilt sometime later.”

  Paul heaved a sigh and peered woefully at Antonietta, announcing, “Too bad. We were hoping to see it.”

  Padre Pietro replied brightly, “But there is some good news, signore. There is a tomb of Dante still extant within the church. You see, his original tomb was considered to be unworthy of one so famous, so a new tomb was built within the church in 1483. And his remains were kept in that tomb until the current tomb was built in 1780.”

  “Oh, that IS wonderful!” Paul exclaimed excitedly. “We actually wanted to see the tomb from that time period anyway.”

  At this last revelation, Antonietta stared piercingly at Paul as if to say, “Stop right there. Say no more!”

  Padre Pietro now studied the pair quizzically, but said nothing. He summarily turned on his heel and led them to the chapel within the church where Dante had been previously buried. “Of course, there are other worthy individuals entombed in this chapel now, as you can see, signore.” Padre Pietro said with solemnity. “Perhaps you would like a few moments of solitude to view the chapel?”

  “Yes, please,” Paul replied, at which Padre Pietro withdrew obligingly.

  As soon as the cleric had departed, Antonietta whispered, “What were you thinking of, Paulo?”

  “Oh, that,” he answered dismissively. “I’m sorry, I was just excited. Besides, he’s nobody. He can’t have made anything of what I said.”

  “Perhaps not…” Antonietta replied secretively. After several minutes they retreated to the main aisle of the church, whereupon they thanked Padre Pietro and made their way outside.

  Once they were on the street, Antonietta queried expectantly, “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Oh come now, what did you discover, Paulo?” she responded with obvious impatience.

  “Niente…nothing. I’m stumped,” he responded in dejection. He paused and, rubbing his chin in contemplation, he proffered, “I’m afraid my hunch may have been wrong, Antonietta.”

  At this the pair wandered off down the street, each contemplating his admission. Thusly distracted, they both failed to observe a rather ominous looking man observing their departure.

  Regaining his train of thought, Paul now suggested, “Well, things could be worse. We are in a wonderful city, Antonietta. Why don’t we make the most of it, and tomorrow we can continue to our next destination? Do you know Ravenna well?”

  “Well? I’ve been here many times, Paulo, many times.”

  “But do you truly know Ravenna, Antonietta?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, for instance did you know that Ravenna was the last capital of the Roman Empire?”

  “Yes, of course, I did know that,” and it was obvious that she intended nothing more than to humor his deep-seated need to share his obscure knowledge of Ravenna.

  At this point he had arrived in front of an ancient edifice, announcing appropriately, “And here we are – the St. Apollinare Nuovo. Let’s go inside.”

  Having completed their tour of the St. Apollinare shortly thereafter, Paul added one last tidbit, “The cathedral we just visited is supposed to be very similar to the old cathedral built by Constantine in Roma on the site of St. Peter’s tomb - Constantine’s Cathedral.”

  “What happened to it, Paulo?”

  “Brunelleschi, that’s what happened to it,’ he responded mysteriously.

  “What? How so?” she asked in apparent bewilderment.

  “Well, when Brunelleschi completed the dome of the Santa Maria del Fiori in 1434, the Florentines suddenly had a magnificent cathedral that vastly outshone Constantine’s Cathedral in Roma. It took about three quarters of a century for it to come to a head, but the Popes simply could not stand to be one-upped by the pesky Florentines. So they razed Constantine’s Cathedral and built the monumental Basilica that is St. Peter’s today.”

  “Very interesting, but what is the point of all of this, Paulo?”

  “Well, as I said, the church that we were just in is said to be similar to Constantine’s Cathedral.”

  “So?” she inquired quizzically.

  “All in good time, Contessa, all in good time. But let me just whet your interest by saying this – I think that we must go under St. Peter’s Basilica in Roma.”

  “So what? I’ve done that several times. The popes are entombed down there.”

  “I didn't mean there. That’s the basement. We’re going below the basement, beneath the church. There is only one pope buried beneath the church – St. Peter.”

  “Oh, right,” she replied brusquely, “I forgot.”

  “Either that or you weren’t listening the other day,” he responded with an air of superiority.

  “Mon dieu! Pardon my French, but you can be so exasperating at times, Professore.”

  Ignoring her insult, he continued, “Right. Anyway, it’s on our ‘pilgrimage’ itinerary.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that, too.”

  At this Paul smiled at her but said nothing.

  For her part, she warmed at this, hugged his arm, and said, “Okay, what’s next on today’s tour?”

  “Well, first we must see the other churches in Ravenna, and then we will continue our pilgrimage tomorrow. Tonight I hope that you will be my guest at my favorite ristorante in Ravenna.”

  “But of course! But of course,” Antonietta exclaimed, and off they went arm in arm.

  Later that evening, as they were dining, Antonietta suddenly remarked, “Paulo, let me see the poem!”

  Perplexed by her apparent clairvoyance, Paul rummaged around in his valise, eventually locating it. Handing it to her, he said, “Here.”

  Antonietta perused it for a moment and exclaimed, “Ah, here it is. Something you said several times today kept buzzing around in my head – ‘the time of Christ’, and here it is – the third and fourth lines of the fifth stanza –

  The time of Christ plus M signed twice

  Add X’s three and I four more.

  Paulo, I think that’s a date!”

  Without so much as the blink of an eye, he grabbed the paper from her and exclaimed, “Let me see that!” Staring down at it momentarily, he suddenly proclaimed, “Antonietta, I could kiss you!”

  “An Italian would kiss first and ask later,” she replied with mock condescension.

  “I wasn’t asking,” he replied curtly. As he could see that this offended her, he gave her a small hug, and plowed ahead, announcing, “It’s 2034! The year is 2034. It says very clearly MMXXXIIII. That’s 2034! It’s a year. This is progress!” As he said this, he scanned backwards from that line in the poem, working his way upwards line by line. "Look at this line," he said after a moment. "It says 'Tracing out MS abodes'. I know we've been over this, but what do you make of it, Antonietta?"

  "I'm sorry, Paulo, I understand the words, but I'm still stumped. What exactly does ‘abodes’ mean?"

  “Well, here’s the thing, abodes means houses. MS clearly means ‘Messaggero Stellato - Starry Messenger’, as we discussed. In other words, ‘MS abodes’ refers to Galileo’s homes. Could it really be that simple? Could it be that the places that we are supposed to ‘pilgrimage’ to are the places that Galileo lived?”

  “Whoa, that might well be a very good guess, Paulo!”

  Suddenly enlivened, they barely managed to complete their repast and, hurrying back to the hotel, they made a beeline for the circular map.

  Staring at it in studied silence, an enormous grin suddenly came over Paul’s face. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! We have it, Antonietta! The letters at the crossing points with the circles are matches. They match with the places that Galileo lived in his lifetime. See - Venezia, Padova, Roma, Siena, Pisa, Vallombrosa, and Arcetri. And the poem seems to refer to t
hem in the reverse order, meaning - moving outwards rather than inwards on the circular map. This is something important, I’m sure of it. And there seems to be a reason that they are not listed on the map in the order that he lived in each place.”

  He then shook his head in confusion and expounded vacuously, “What the…is he trying to tell us that the places he lived are the seven levels of Hell?”

  “I have no idea,” she replied in obvious dismay.

  “Well, one thing is certain,” he said, “We wasted our time coming to Ravenna.”

  “Perhaps not,” she admonished, “Although it appears that Ravenna is not on this map, our visit here has certainly provided an important step towards the solution of the poem.”

  The following morning they said their goodbyes to the Bazzocchi family and, promising to visit again soon, they hurried out to the Alfa. Unobserved by either of them, a black sedan parked down the street pulled out and duplicated their every move as they drove from the inner city towards the autostrada.

  Chapter 5

  Pisa

  Those who read his works realize only too clearly how inferior all other minds are compared to Archimedes.

  -Galileo Galilei (1564-1642)

  Arcetri - 1997

  Paul took the wheel of the Alfa, the drive from Arcetri to Pisa fleetingly picturesque as they sped along the Arno River Valley. Off to the north they could see the mountain range where Carrara marble is mined, and to the south were the hills of Tuscany that produce Italy's favorite wine - chianti. It was a gorgeous spring day, matched only by the new-found enthusiasm the pair had discovered in Ravenna.

  Arriving in Pisa, Antonietta directed Paul to yet another deliciously decaying Italian inn directly within the city center.

  Amazed, Paul muttered to himself, "Not again!"

  Overhearing him, Antonietta responded, "No. Unfortunately, this time we have to pay. Actually, we could have stayed at Sandro's villa outside the city, but that would have led to dangerous entanglements.”

  “And who, pray tell, is Sandro?” Paul queried with a blank look.

  “Oh, sorry, I rarely mention him by name. Sandro is my former husband,” Antonietta replied succinctly. “Pisa is under the control of my husband's family. So we are necessarily obliged to travel incognito hereabouts. I know this inn, but I have never actually stayed here. The good news is that it is very near the house where Galileo was born."

  "Excellent," Paul replied. Accordingly, now that they understood the poetic meaning of the word “abodes”, they made Galileo's house their first stop. That, of course, was a waste of time, as the house had been significantly altered and updated several times since the sixteenth century. True to the academic within him, Paul lamented that fact, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  Any clues that might have been left behind by Galileo having long since vanished, Paul opined as they turned away to search for greener pastures, "Actually, I doubt that the house itself would hold any clues anyway, Antonietta.”

  "Why do you say that, Paulo?"

  "Galileo was no fool. He would have had no way of knowing how long it would be before his poem was discovered within his credenza, and in some ways, he would surely have hoped that it would remain hidden for quite a while, long enough even that his birthplace might even have been razed."

  "What makes you say that?" she replied quizzically.

  "I suspect that he had some intuition that the Church would not alter its views any time soon. Were his poem to have been found soon after his death, it might easily have been suppressed by The Holy See. So he would have carefully connected his clues to places sufficiently revered to ensure that they endured, just as he hoped that his hiding place for the poem would endure." Having said this last, he abruptly halted in his tracks and slapped himself on the forehead with his open palm. Somewhat inexplicably, he stood motionless in the middle of the street, with a vacant look creasing his features.

  Herself transfixed by this rather bizarre scene, Antonietta eventually hazarded, "What? What is it, Professore?”

  "The SEE! Oh, my, it's THE SEE," he said, "Don't you see, Antonietta, it's THE SEE!"

  Very near to giggling at his inane babbling, she managed, "What on earth are you babbling about?"

  Suddenly coming to his senses, he commanded sternly, "Give me the poem," at which she pulled it from her handbag, still appearing confused.

  He yanked it from her grasp and, examining it carefully, he announced brusquely, "Eighth stanza, first line, read it!"

  Antonietta scanned down the page, looked at it a moment, then read aloud, "'Passed by the Sea not long ago'? So? So what?"

  "It's SEE, not SEA, Antonietta! It's The Holy See! Now I have it, it's definitely referring to Milton's visit to Galileo’s house in 1638. Milton's visit had to be approved by The Holy See before he was allowed to visit Galileo."

  "Oh, my, Paulo. This is marvelous," she stared inquisitively at the paper, "So the seventh stanza is about John Milton."

  He retrieved the poem from her and, without waiting for her approval, he exclaimed wildly, "Wait, that's not all! Wait a minute!"

  Frowning deprecatingly, she murmured, "Well, pardon me!"

  "Oh, sorry. That was rude of me. But look here, Antonietta. Look!"

  "Look? At what, Paulo?" she responded in total bewilderment.

  "The long stanza, sixth line 'And then sea she called back the pope'." and he was grinning inexplicably from ear to ear. In all truth, he was smiling so broadly that it infected her as well, inducing her to grin in return even though she had no idea why.

  Still smiling, she inquired, "Do I get to share in your little secret?"

  "Ha! It's see, too! Well, almost, anyway, except it isn’t capitalized. It’s really 'And then see she called back the pope'. Look at the original Italian. We're not very good translators, my dear contessa. We've been on a wild goose chase to the sea, and all it really meant was this - go see the woman who called back the pope."

  "And that would be whom?" Antonietta replied doubtfully.

  "Santa Caterina, of course. We must go to Siena! Santa Caterina was from Siena."

  "And how do you know this?" Antonietta asked.

  "Oh, well, Santa Caterina is the person who worked hardest to get the pope to move back to Roma in the fourteenth century. From 1309 to 1376 the popes lived in Avignon, in France. Santa Caterina was instrumental in convincing them to move back to Italia."

  "Ah, now I understand. Of course, I knew that the popes had been in France at one time, but I didn't know any of the details. This is excellent, Professore. Yes, we will have to go to Siena next. And by the way, you have way too much trivia stuffed into your brain!"

  "Yes, I suppose I do, but it can't be helped, and it does turn out to be useful at times, I suppose," at which they smiled playfully at one another.

  By this time they had somewhat surreptitiously arrived at the Piazza dei Miracoli, causing Paul to shake his head in amazement. “All these people, it’s just ridiculous!”

  “Why?” she replied.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just that they come from all over the world to see The Leaning Tower, and they hardly notice that this is perhaps the most harmonious assemblage of medieval religious structures in all of Christendom. Isn’t it just breathtaking!”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. The Campanile, the Baptistery, the Cathedral, and the Camposanto. It’s just fabulous. I’m so happy to hear you say that, because it’s my favorite in all of Italy,” she responded agreeably.”

  “Mine, too,” he replied. “Which one of the four is your favorite?”

  “Oh, my, that’s a tough one, I suppose. No, no, it’s not after all…the Camposanto. Yes, of course, it has to be my favorite.”

  “Mine, too. Yes, the cemetery, of course. We must go see it, but first, let us see the others.”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, thus they began with The Leaning Tower. Of course, they could not go up because of the fence enclosing it, but they could clearly see
the enormous lead weights placed on the high side of the apron in an attempt to slow the rate of tilt.

  “Is it working?” she asked.

  “Well, yes, I suppose so,” Paul replied, “But I doubt that it will be the ultimate solution to the problem. The weights have slowed the progression, but they have not completely stopped it from tilting further. There is an international commission composed of experts in soil mechanics, mechanics of rocks, geophysics, meteorology, and even history and sociology. They are very capable people, but thus far no solution has been found.”

  “What do you think, Paulo?”

  “Falling objects, especially big stone ones like the tower, have the power to kill. So I hope that they find a solution soon.”

  Having said this last, he seemed to regain his composure, disclosing, “I’ve been up the tower a couple of times before it was closed. Have you, Antonietta?”

  “No, I have not. What’s it like?”

  “Terrifying, absolutely terrifying. I confess to having a bit of vertigo, and the first time I went up there I literally crawled out on top and gripped the metal railing with white knuckles before I had the nerve to stand up. It’s only listing about 5 degrees, but it feels for all the world like you might fall off, especially if you go around to the south side, the direction that it is tilting. But I’ll tell you this, if they ever reopen it, I intend to go back up there!”

  “I should be pleased to accompany you, Professore.”

  “It’s a deal,” he replied with a smile. “Oh, there’s one other thing we will want to see if they do in fact reopen it.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Well, can you see there at the entrance, just inside. Unfortunately, we can’t get any closer due to this darned fence, but there is an inscription inside there.”

  “I think I can see what you are talking about, but of course, I can’t make out what it says, Paulo. What is it?”