“You’re not serious. You’re not going to place it in that hole, are you?” she replied incredulously.
“Do you have a better idea?” he shot back, “We certainly do NOT want to have this with us when we arrive in Roma in a couple of hours!”
Antonietta glared at him momentarily, and seeing his resolve, she rummaged around within her bag yet again. At length, she produced a large plastic bag in the way of an answer.
“Voila!” Paul exclaimed and, sealing the map within the bag, he carefully placed it in the depression. He then covered it with sand, finally replacing the stone in its former place and scraping the excess material into the spaces between the surrounding stones.
Observing his handiwork, she observed, “I hope that you know what you’re doing, Professore.”
“I don’t want to have this with us when we get to Roma,” Paul replied, “This seems as good a place as any to store it for safe keeping for the time being. My mom will keep a close watch over it, I’m sure.”
“Not your sister, too?” she asked.
“No, just my mom. She always was a snoop. I’m sure she’s snooping on us at this very moment. My sister will be sitting along the sidelines smirking at her.” He stood up and brushed himself off, gazed about wistfully one last time, and said, “Come on, let’s go.”
Nearing the car, Paul suddenly halted in his tracks and exclaimed, "Hold it! Hold on, I've got it!"
"Not again..." Antonietta murmured under her breath, "Got what, Professore?"
"Galileo's trips to Roma. It got me to thinking. He made stops along the way. He didn't go straight to Roma from Firenze. That's it!"
"Ok-kay..." she replied, but she clearly had no idea where he was going with this.
"Remember the map I drew yesterday - the one with the radial lines on it?"
"Yes, of course," she responded vacantly.
"I think I got it wrong. It's a small detail, but it could be important." He rushed over to the car, pulled out a piece of paper and laid it on the hood of the car, hastily scribbling something on it. He subsequently held up the piece of paper for her to see.
"This is what I'm talking about, Antonietta. Yesterday I drew all of the lines radially from Firenze. But Galileo would not have drawn them that way, because he never actually went that way. In his time travel was slow and laborious, so he would not have thought of connecting Roma directly to Firenze, or Venezia either, for that matter. So this map would be much more likely to have been the way that Galileo would have drawn it in his time."
Frowning dubiously, she inquired, "So what exactly does it mean, Professore?"
"Oh, that. Well...I suppose I don't really know..."
At this revelation she simply snorted derisively.
For his part, he peered sheepishly at her and suggested, "Well, it seems important!" He glanced yet again at the paper and, doubt seeming to gather in his mind, he added, "Okay, well…maybe not. I don't know."
She studied the map for another moment, querying, "Why didn't you put Montepulciano on the map, if he made stops along the way?"
"Simple, it's not in the poem. Furthermore, he never lived in Montepulciano. Remember, the poem says 'MS abodes'."
"Oh, right. I forgot, genius," she replied deprecatingly.
He smiled at this and, well aware that she was kidding, he posited, "Whatever. Perhaps we'll find something else out in Roma. Let's go see."
"Sounds good to me," she replied.
Roma - 1611
Galileo entered the sumptuous room, whereupon one member of the assembled group strode forward briskly and held out his hand in welcome, “Professore! Most illustrious Messenger of the Stars! Signore Galilei, allow me to present myself. I am Federico Cesi, the Founder of the Lyncean Academy. Welcome, sir, welcome. Please come in!”
Galileo shook his hand heartily, responding, “Thank you, Signore Cesi. Your reputation precedes you. I am most flattered to be invited to dine with you and your colleagues this evening.”
The two moved toward the remainder of the group, Cesi announcing with fanfare, “Gentlemen, as we had hoped, here is Professore Galilei in our very midst. Professore Galilei, these are my fellow scientists in the Academy. We are most honored to have you here in Roma.” Galileo shook each man’s hand vigorously, supplying greetings as he blended seamlessly with the small crowd.
“Gentlemen, let us all be seated for dinner. Signore Galilei, we have reserved the seat at the head of the table for you, sir. Please,” and he gestured to the appointed chair. The group seated themselves, small patters of conversation emanating from various factions within the group.
Wine was poured, and momentarily arising from his seat, Signore Cesi announced sonorously, “Gentlemen, a toast – to Signore Galilei – Italy’s foremost scientist! To the Starry Messenger!” and at this the group raised their glasses ceremoniously and saluted Galileo.
Dinner was a raucous affair, with repeated questions coming from various reaches of the group regarding pendulums, the face of the moon, the moons of Jupiter, sunspots, the horns of Venus, and most interestingly of all - the volume of Hell. Galileo was easily up for the challenge, always the showman, never at a loss for words where science was concerned.
At one point Galileo demonstrated his perspiculum, to the delight of all those in attendance on this auspicious occasion. One attendee, the Greek mathematician Giovanni Demisiani, exclaimed upon looking through the magnifying glass, “I shall call your invention a telescope in accordance with the ancient Greek language,” at which the group joined in boisterous applause.
After two hours of continuous intellectual engagement, Cesi arose once again and announced, “Gentlemen, silenzio per favore. Now we come to the purpose of our evening,” and at this he turned towards Galileo. “Professore Galilei, I confess that we have lured you here this evening under false pretenses,” at which the entire room broke into laughter. “Quiet, please,” Cesi said with good humor. His face then turning serious, he announced with due aplomb, “Signore Galilei, it is the unanimous vote of the Lyncean Academy that you be admitted as a distinguished lifetime member. I do not think that I need to tell you that we are the only scientific academy in the world. Thus, we take great care in determining who is to be admitted to the Lynx,” and at this he smiled broadly at Galileo, continuing with, “Sir, we find ourselves in a most unusual position this evening. We are proud of our status as members of the Lynx, but in your case, we are the ones who feel honored by your presence here, and we therefore ask humbly that you accept the honor that we bestow upon you as an even greater honor for each of us and The Academy.” At this moment the room grew completely silent, every eye focused on the Great Man.
Sensing the profundity of the moment, Galileo carefully set his wine glass down, cleared his throat, and slowly rose from his chair. The silence was deafening. Galileo recognized the opportunity he possessed with his captive audience, but he sensed even more so that this was not the time for extemporizing. Rising to his full stature, he proclaimed with humility for all to hear, “Gentlemen, science is the queen of all human endeavors. You, sirs, are to be commended for shepherding the queen, for guiding mankind in this most important challenge as we sail forward into unchartered waters. I am most humbled and honored by your generous offer. I therefore accept!” at which the room erupted in applause.
Nearing Roma - 1997
Paul felt the increasing stress as they approached the city on the autostrada. By the time they reached the ring road, the traffic was bumper to bumper. "Nothing has changed," he said to himself, growing impatient with the congestion.
"Stessa cosa, sempre." Antonietta remarked pithily. "It's Roma, Paulo. You love it - you hate it. There is no other way."
"Right now I hate it," he replied, frowning, "But I'm sure I will get over it once we arrive."
They eventually reached the Appian Way, and, following it into the city, they passed Caracalla's Baths, the Arch of Constantine, the Coliseum, and the Forum. They passed by the Monument to
Vittorio Emmanuelle, and thenceforth to their hotel near the Compo Dei Fiori. By then Paul’s demeanor had become diametrically opposite to a mere half hour earlier. Now grinning from ear to ear, he volunteered, “Fantastico!”
"You know Roma quite well, Professore," Antonietta praised, "You seem to know exactly where you are going."
"Thank you. It hasn't always been that way. Roma is one of the most difficult cities that I have ever had to drive in. They keep changing the directions of one way streets!"
"Yes, I agree,” Antonietta replied. After a moment, she cried out, “Stop! There is a parking place!"
Paul followed the direction of her pointing finger, and deftly wheeled into the spot. "Amazing! Do you know how hard it is to find a parking place in Roma?"
"Certamente," she replied succinctly. They grabbed their luggage and headed into the hotel. As they approached, Antonietta announced, "This is where Julius Caesar was assassinated."
"Of course it is. Everyone knows that he was assassinated in Roma," Paul replied with palpable condescension.
"I meant here - right here!" she replied as they approached the front door of the hotel. "He was stabbed to death in Pompeii's Theatre, which we are standing in the middle of at this very moment. See the curve in the tall buildings around us? That's the line of the old semicircular seating in the theatre. Inside the hotel we shall see the original stone foundation of the theatre."
They found their rooms, dumped their luggage, and soon they were on the trail of Galileo's clues. First, they made their way to the Vatican. The taxi dropped them across the street from the elliptical colonnade. "Where to first?" Antonietta asked.
"I need to see if we can get in to see the tomb of St. Peter. It's by invitation only, and sometimes it can take several days to get in. Actually, most people can't get in at all."
"So what makes you special, Professore?"
"You know, I'm not really sure, but I've been down there twice, and both times, they seemed to be impressed by my command of the Italian language. But we'll see."
They approached the Swiss guards to the left of the main entrance to the basilica and Paul said briskly, "Vorremmo vedere gli scavi."
"Va bene," the guard replied, and motioned for them to pass.
"Amazing! I never knew that you could pass by them. I thought they were actually guarding," Antonietta said, looking back over her shoulder.
"They are, Contessa, I assure you - they are."
"Well, that was far too easy, if you ask me," she mumbled.
They passed under an archway and then rounded a curved portion of the basilica, coming to a small office on the right. Paul entered and stood in the back of a short line. Antonietta could hear the conversation further up the line, and it didn't sound good at all. There was a brusque little man officiating, turning away each and every applicant who had come to see the scavi.
The line crept forward interminably. Eventually, Paul reached the head of the line, at which point he commenced to explain that he was a learned member of the academic community in the Stati Uniti and that he was writing a book on the methods of construction of Italian structures in The Middle Ages. The erstwhile curmudgeonly little man, who Antonietta thought looked amazingly like Michelangelo's depiction of the Guard at the Gates to Hell in the Sistine Chapel, said simply, "Va bene, domani mattina alle nove. Due persone."
"Mille grazie," Paul replied pleasantly, and turned on his heel to leave the office.
Once outside, Antonietta exclaimed, "Amazing. Absolutely amazing! How do you pull these things off, Paulo?"
Paul winked at her and said incongruously, "I have no idea why it works for me. I just try to act like I know what I'm doing."
"You do, Professore. Believe me, you do! You may not know it, but somehow you do!" she said with a smile, and then she continued, "So we have until tomorrow morning. What do we do now?"
"Right. I've been thinking about that. The last line of the eighth stanza refers to St. Peter, ergo, we need to see anything associated with St. Peter."
"I know one place we could go," Antonietta volunteered.
“Where might that be?” Paul queried.
“Well, for one, I'd like to visit the Mamertine Prison, where St. Peter was held before he was crucified."
"You mean that still exists?" he asked in incredulity.
"Most certainly."
"Where is it?" he queried.
"It's actually in the Forum, right behind the Curia,” she responded. Thus, off they went to see that first. The prison was located beneath the San Giuseppe dei Falegnami, a small church adjacent to the Forum. Unfortunately, no clues presented themselves within.
Having completed that stop, Antonietta asked, “What next?”
“I'd also like to go see the ball court on the Palatine Hill,” Paul responded affably.
"Why do you want to see that?"
"Well, supposedly it looked something like Nero's Circus, as did the Piazza Navona, for that matter."
"So?"
"So St. Peter was crucified in Nero's Circus. Maybe seeing a Roman structure that is similar to where St. Peter was crucified will give us some ideas.
"I see," she responded with obvious doubt, “Sounds pretty far-fetched to me, but whatever. Anything else?”
"Right, just one more thing that I can think of,” Paul responded. “We need to go to the Basilica of San Pietro in Vincoli."
"Ah, yes," she replied knowingly, "The chains of St. Peter. That would make sense."
"Can you think of anything else," he asked.
"What? Me? You're way ahead of me. But I can think of some good places to have dinner!"
"Excellent. We'll let that be your province. Shall we go see the chains first?"
"Va bene," she replied, so he hailed a cab.
Inevitably, the chains of St. Peter revealed nothing, although Paul was tickled by the spirited argument that erupted between an American tourist and his wife over the meaning of the horns protruding from the head of Michelangelo's sculpture of Moses. As is so often the case, the woman won, although Paul and Antonietta had no idea which side of the argument she was on.
"Let's go up on the Palatine Hill and see the ball court. And on the way, we can stop and see where Romulus was buried. We can even see where Julius Caesar's body was burned."
"You're joking," Antonietta replied doubtfully.
"My, my, for an Italian you are strangely ignorant of your history, Contessa. I assure you, I am deadly serious," he replied, starting down the steps into the Forum.
"I'm Italian, I'm not a Roman," she replied imperiously.
"Ha, I've heard that one before. All Italians claim to be from some special portion of the country that makes them superior to all others."
Hurrying to keep up, she rejoined, "And you Americans are different?"
"I'm not American, I'm a mixture of Welsh and Scottish, and of course, I’m also half Italian," Paul replied with mock gravity.
"Hee hee...touché, as the French say," she responded.
"Nobody said I'm not a hypocrite," Paul shot back over his shoulder jovially. By now he had reached the bottom of the steps, coming to a stop before the Curia. "Here we are - the center of the universe - two thousand years ago!"
Paul escorted Antonietta right through the heart of the Forum, pointing out details one after the other. One would have thought that he had actually been an inhabitant of the city in ancient times. Eventually they wound their way up the Palatine Hill, whereupon Paul led her to the ball court. "Impressive, eh?" he said to her, standing at the railing looking down into the huge court.
"Of course," she replied noncommittally, "We came here when I was in school, but you know how it is - sixth graders never listen to anything."
"I remember the first time I came up on this hill, nearly thirty years ago. I was by myself. I had seen Ben-Hur when I was in grade school, and I thought that this was the Circus Maximus!"
"What's that?" Antonietta queried.
"I take it you ha
ve not seen Ben-Hur," he responded succinctly.
"No."
"Suffice it to say, this is a puny little watering hole compared to the gargantuan size of the Circus Maximus. Come on, I'll show it to you. He led her to the house of Augustus whereupon they wandered through a maze of walls to arrive at the posterior of the Palatine Hill, overlooking the enormous sunken field behind. "That, Antonietta, was the Circus Maximus."
"Oh, my God! That is gigantic!"
"Yes, it was twice as large as the Coliseum was, and the Coliseum was twice as large as it is today." He stood pondering the panorama before them, and finally he said, "Okay, enough playing around. I'm done for the day. I need a glass of vino. How about you?"
Exhausted from his overly enthusiastic tour, Antonietta could barely muster a compliant nod of her head.
That evening they dined at the Ristorante Grotte del Teatro di Pompeo. Unsurprisingly, Antonietta knew the owners quite well. Paul had dined there before, but he had never had the nerve to introduce himself to the adorable woman who waited on the tables. She had always selected his meals for him in her obtrusive way, and he secretly adored her because she had always been true to her word when she had selected some magnifico entrée for him.
Thus, when Antonietta had introduced her to him as Antonella, the wife of the owner Lino, and mother of Alessandro, Paul had been thrilled to finally make the acquaintance of someone that he had secretly worshipped for many years. And most amazingly of all, upon being introduced to him, Antonella had said, “Ah, but I know you! You have been here many times before, non, Professore?” At this, Paul had blushed with pride at having been picked out from the endless throng of turisti americani. There was no longer any doubt in Paul’s mind – traveling around in Italia with Antonietta was indeed an extraordinary adventure.
Roma - February 25, 1616
Galileo sat dejectedly in the piazza, gazing pensively at the Pantheon directly opposite his table. Only now, on his third glass of wine, was he beginning to calm down. To be threatened with prison! It was simply beyond belief. They were all idiots! Cremonini, Colombe, Caccini – all idiots! And the pope, Paul V, he was the worst of all. In the face of all of the evidence that Galileo had produced over the past few years supporting the Copernican system, how could anyone still deny that the Earth moves? Galileo was so disgusted by his meeting with Cardinal Bellarmino earlier that morning that he had been unable to even drag himself back to the Villa Medici, preferring to drink himself into a stupor.
Galileo's Lost Message Page 17
