At this revelation, Marco’s look of indignation turned to one of discernible torment and regret, but he nonetheless maintained silence. Seeing that he intended no response, Antonietta continued, demanding, “Well, what have you to say for yourself?”
Marco glanced back at her for a moment, but he then turned and gazed dejectedly through the window.
Observing his obstinate silence, she screamed at him, “Say something, Marco!”
At this he turned and responded forlornly, “I’m sorry, Mama. I do not mean to ignore you. I was just trying to think of what to say.” There was another moment, during which Antonietta waited expectantly, and then Marco added, “Were you hurt?”
Antonietta frowned at him, “No, not seriously. But that doesn’t mean that we are safe at this moment.” Continuing to glare at him, she propounded emphatically, “Tell me, Marco. Tell me!”
“Tell you what?” he replied insolently.
“Don’t speak to me with that tone of voice, young man!” she retorted with rage. “Tell me what you told them. Tell me this instant!”
Glancing at her dismissively, he responded, “You know what I told them. I told them that you hid the document in Ravenna!”
At this, her eyes lighting up in fury, she broke into a brisk stride and, reaching her son, she struck him across the face. “Mafioso!” she cursed, “You are just like him. How could you do such a thing? My own son!” Having said this, she stepped back from him, drew her hands to her face, and began to sob.
Clearly fearing his mother in her current temperament, Marco silently grabbed his face, absently rubbing the rubicund hue rapidly spreading across his visage.
After a moment, during which Marco’s demeanor softened noticeably, he responded calmly, “Don’t do that, Mama. I am sorry. I did it for you.”
“You did it for me!” Antonietta replied vehemently, “We could have been killed, you stronzo!”
“That is exactly why I told them, Mama! They were threatening to kill all of us!” He plunged his hands into his pockets lamely, imploring, “I’m sorry, but I felt that I had no choice. I was afraid.”
She glared at him, a frown still etched on her face, but said nothing.
He glanced at her, and then peered through the window once again.
For her part, she continued glaring at him stonily.
Eventually, he queried hopefully, “Did they get the document?”
“Yes, thanks to you!” she croaked.
“Good!” he replied emphatically.
“What? Good?” she responded viciously, and for a moment Paul thought that she was going to strike her son yet again. But the moment passed, Antonietta continuing to maintain her silent glare.
Marco made a second attempt, this time commencing with, “Mama. As long as we had the document, our lives were in danger. Surely you could see that. Please understand. I had no choice.”
After a seeming eternity, she said to him, “You defiled your own mother, my son, and you very nearly got us killed. I can think of no greater sin that a son can commit against his own mother. If I didn’t fear a worse fate for you, I would tell you to leave this house at once and never come back. But if I did that, you would fall into your father’s hands. And that, my son, would make me no better than you. And still worse, you would grow to be no better than him!”
She now hurled the coup de grace, “Marco, I forbid you to leave this house. Now, I suggest that you think very carefully about how you want to live your life. Do you want to spend your time on Earth descending into Dante’s Inferno, or do you want to live a different sort of life? Now get out of my sight, and do not speak to me again until you have thought this through, until you are prepared to give me a satisfactory answer.”
“Yes, Mama,” Marco replied miserably and, still rubbing his face, he strode diffidently from the room.
Fearing to so much as move a single muscle, Paul stood rooted to his spot. Although he wanted desperately to say something, the power of the woman before him drained every ounce of energy from his body. Moments passed, but then Antonietta trudged slowly across the room and approached him. “Thank you, Paulo,” she said softly and, shoulders slumping, she clearly needed comfort. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It needed to be said. It has been coming for a long time, and I feared my ability to get it out without your reassuring presence.”
Staring at her, he realized that on this occasion there was nothing whatsoever to be said in reply. Slowly, ever so slowly, she inched forwards, nudging her face into his shoulder as the pair dissolved into an empathetic embrace.
The Following Morning
His head throbbing wildly, Paul awoke to the warmth of sunshine caressing his face. Realizing that he had slept late, he wasted little time in preparing to confront the aftermath of recent events.
He found her standing solemnly in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee in apparent contemplation, her appearance considerably less sunny than he had hoped for. Seeing her bloodshot eyes, he was convinced that she too had slept fitfully if at all.
Silently shoving a cup of coffee towards him, she avoided eye contact altogether, at which, his resolve instantly crumbling, he volunteered contritely, “I’m so sorry, Antonietta. I seem to have encroached on a family problem. Perhaps I should go home until things cool down here.”
She turned slowly and, taking a long drag on her coffee, she responded sternly, “You idiot.”
He stared at her penitently, gathering what strength he could and mumbled in dejection, “Yes, that I am, Contessa, that I am.”
She carefully placed her coffee cup on the table and, wrapping one arm around her waist, she commanded imperiously, “Just shut up, damn it. I have a terrible headache, and I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
Thinking to respond with some inane gesture of sympathy, he was curtailed by her abruptly upraised hand. Complying with her gesture, he stood silently, awaiting her next move. She took yet another long drag from her coffee, then announced, “Tis your fault, you idiot. I spent half the night trying to figure out our next move.”.”
Perception somehow escaping him, he blurted, “What the…you were thinking about the map?”
“Exactly!” she crowed in palpable triumph. “You idiot!” and at this she grabbed up her coffee and, taking another lingering sip, she eyed him silently over the rim of her cup.
Still confused, he uttered, “I don’t understand. Why?”
She simply glared at him in silent confirmation, but as he continued to show no signs of comprehending, she muttered, “It worked, didn’t it!”
Finally aware that he had been confused, he stammered in awe, “My God…I…I thought Marco was the source of your ill humor! You’re still wrapped up in our erstwhile friend Galileo!”
At this admission, she placed her coffee cup on the table, advanced slowly into his astonished embrace, repeating tenderly, “Esattamente!”
He returned her embrace, but then suddenly pushing her back, he queried in apparent shock, “Sooo, what’s our next step, Contessa?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Professore,” she suggested in feigned ignorance.
“Because I am at this moment absolutely certain that you have thought it through, and there is nothing whatsoever that I could do or say to dissuade you from your intended course of action,” he responded with certitude.
“At this she took another long drag from her cup and, eyeing him over the rim, she murmured self-assuredly, “Yes, well, there is that I suppose.”
“So spit it out, Antonietta – what’s next?” he queried in obvious resignation.
“All in good time, Paulo,” she responded and, slapping him convivially on the chest, she confessed, “I have a plan, but unfortunately I feel like hell at the moment.”
At this he chuckled, “Aw, Antonietta, anch’io - me, too! Suppose we take some time to recover,…”
“Yes, I quite agree, Professore. Tomorrow is another day. Now, would you care to share breakfast with me?”
The Following Day
Antonietta hired a team of local house cleaners to help, but as it nonetheless took two days to restore the villa to a semblance of normality, she and Paul joined in to help. She also hired two temporary guards to protect them from further intrusions.
Marco helped as well, but he and his mother continued to maintain a careful distance from one another. Only time could heal such deep and cavernous wounds.
Antonietta and Paul had reached a point in their quest that had left them both wary of venturing forth from the villa for fear of further confrontation by their pursuers. And to make matters worse, they were at a loss for the moment, having visited all of the places indicated in the long stanza of the poem.
As fate would have it, the inexorable tedium of cabin fever eventually raised its irresistible head to the forefront. Exhausted from two days of hard labor, they sat in the afternoon shade of the garden, gazing idly towards the Firenze skyline.
Paul abruptly observed, "After two weeks, we seem to be back to where we started from. Mind you, I’m not saying that I’m disappointed, Contessa. But I never dreamed that this would drag on this long.”
“I understand,” Antonietta replied apologetically. “So, you need to go home now. Is that what you’re leading up to?”
Sipping his glass of wine, Paul contradicted, “No, not at all. Actually, I think that we need to go back to Roma.”
"Don't you have a job back home?" she replied incredulously.
"Why?” he answered, “Do you want me to leave?"
"I didn't say that. I just don't want you to get into trouble at your university because of me," she responded evasively.
"Well, I don't either, but the truth is - I probably already am. Besides, this is more important. No, that’s an understatement. This is very important. And if my hunch is right, the outcome will redeem me with the dean. At the moment I have arranged for someone else to pick up my classes."
"Okay, forget it,” she replied in contemplation, “You have obviously thought this through. Of course, for my part I confess that I want you to stay. Frankly, I seriously doubt that I could solve the puzzle without you."
"Thank you, Contessa," he responded.
"So why do you think we need to go to Roma again?"
"Actually, I want to go to Capri, and Roma is on the way.” He paused a moment for effect, then added, “I'm just kidding. Somehow we forgot to visit the site of Galileo's trial on our first trip to Roma. I think that we are very close to the solution. I can feel it, but I need one more clue. I'm hoping that if we visit the site of the trial something will come to me.”
“Where was his trial held?” she inquired.
“Well, that’s the interesting part. While most people think that there was an enormous drawn out trial, there really wasn’t. He arrived in Roma in February of 1633 after a protracted journey from Arcetri. Once he arrived he was allowed to stay at the Villa Medici for more than a month. That in itself was really unprecedented at that time. Normally, a person accused of disobedience, which amounted to heresy, would have been held, perhaps in chains, at the Castel Sant’Angelo, which was used by the Holy See as a prison. That had been the case with Giordano Bruno.”
“Yes, I know,” Antonietta responded morosely.
Paul continued with, “Anyway, getting back to my point - as was normally the case, it had already been decided by Pope Urban VIII that Galileo was guilty. Accordingly, there really was no trial at all. There was instead an interrogation which began in March. At that point in time Galileo was required to remain within the Vatican. From the descriptions, it seems that he was assigned to a sumptuous suite of three rooms not far from the Sistine Chapel. It may have even been in the Raffaelo rooms. He was even allowed to wander through much of the area that is today the Vatican Museum. During this period of time he was interrogated by Brother Vincenzo Maculano. Maculano was a stern and rigid person who had been steeled by a lifetime of Church authority. His sole aim in these interrogations was to induce Galileo to confess.”
“Confess to what?” Antonietta asked.
“Technically, they wanted him to confess that he had violated the terms of his probation set by Cardinal Bellarmino seventeen years earlier, but in reality they surely wanted to break him, so that he would confess to anything and everything at their whim.”
“That sounds dire,” she responded, “What happened next?”
“Galileo finally broke down shortly thereafter under the prolonged threat of torture, perhaps to be followed by burning at the stake. Of course, Galileo was aware that Giordano Bruno had been burned at the stake in 1600, so it’s no wonder that Galileo buckled under the pressure.” He halted momentarily, subsequently interjecting, “That reminds me, I want to go to Roma via San Gimignano.”
“Ooh, I love San Gimignano,” she replied, “Wait a minute, just exactly why do you want to go there?”
“Oh, I have a reason, and it’s definitely important. I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“Okay, whatever,” she replied, “What happened then, when Galileo buckled?”
“Another month dragged by, with Galileo growing more and more despondent. Finally, on June 21 Galileo was called to the Vatican to hear the judgment. First he was examined, and he was found to be sufficiently repentant to force a public abjuration. Of course, as we know, he was found guilty of heresy.
“On the following day he was brought before a large group of Cardinals and Black Friars at the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, where he was required to kneel publically. If his abjuration was deemed to be unrepentant in any way, it was implied that he would be considered to be a lapsed heretic, and he would suffer the fate of Bruno in the Campo dei Fiori. Under the circumstances Galileo did exactly as he was told, and in so doing he escaped certain death, which could well have been imposed on that very day. Because he confessed, his sentence was commuted to imprisonment for the remainder of his life.
“Whether it was more rage on the part of Pope Urban VIII at Galileo’s behavior, or fear that his continued antics might endanger the Church, we shall never know. For Galileo, the immediate danger was over, but now he had to deal with permanent imprisonment.”
“So I take it we need to visit the Vatican and the Santa Maria sopra Minerva?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so, Contessa. Otherwise, I am at a dead end.” At this he gazed despondently at the floor a moment, but then slowly, very slowly, a supercilious grin began spreading across his face.
Recognizing that grin, Antonietta demanded, “What? What is it?”
“That’s it! What a FOOL I’ve been! It’s sopra!”
Antonietta just stared at him, but since he just continued smiling inanely, she played her part, querying impatiently, “What’s sopra!”
“You know - above,” he replied proudly.
Visibly exasperated, she exclaimed, “Yes, you fool, as you so aptly put it, I know that sopra means ‘above’ in English. After all, Italian is my native language. So what!”
“Santa Maria sopra Minerva! That’s it! I completely missed it until now,” he responded excitedly.
“Right. The Basilica of Santa Maria is supposedly built on top of an old Roman temple to the Goddess Minerva. I know that, Professore,” she responded.
“Yes, let’s take a look at the poem, Contessa,” at which he rummaged around and, locating it, he read, “Ah, here it is, look -‘And then above the utmost next’.”
Antonietta stared at it for a few moments, slowly taking it in. “Minerva…hmmmm…okay, my Greek history is not too good, but if memory serves me correctly Minerva was the Romans’ version of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, poetry, and several other things that I forget.”
Now grinning from ear to ear, he responded, “Precisely! Think about it, Antonietta. Galileo would have thought of her as ‘the utmost’. Poetry, wisdom, they are the two things that we are toiling with, two of the things that Galileo valued the most.”
“So, what are you saying? Are you saying that
‘above the utmost’ is not referring to St. Peter’s Basilica?”
“Yes.”
“So we went to the wrong place?” Antonietta replied diffidently.
“I’m afraid so. It wasn’t the first time, though. I believe I said that we need to go to Roma. I’ve changed my mind. Now I think that we must go to Roma, Contessa.”
On the Road to San Gimignano - 1637
Galileo glanced from the coach window. This was his first trip away from Arcetri since his imprisonment there more than two years earlier. And to think, he had managed to convince the Holy See to allow him to visit the magical city of San Gimignano! He had created an elaborate cover for his real reason for the trip, and it had worked perfectly. Now he would be able to meet with the French Count of Nouailles, who was in transit back to France after a visit to the Holy See. The Count would in turn secretly transport Galileo’s greatest work – Discourses on Two New Sciences – to his ardent admirer Elia Diodati in Paris.
Diodati had just the previous year commissioned a portrait of Galileo, which had been carried out by Justus Sustermans, and it had already been transported to Diodati for safekeeping. Galileo felt thusly assured that his manuscript would be safely passed into the hands of the publisher in Holland. Sadly, Galileo knew in his heart that this would be his last major scientific work, as his eyesight had begun to fail him.
Fortunately for him, his eyes continued to perform sufficiently well for the moment. As the coach rounded a curve, the beautiful towers of San Gimignano came into view. Despite the hardship that travel posed for him at his age, Galileo relished this rare journey with great anticipation.
A half hour later the carriage came to a halt in front of the city gates, and Galileo stepped down. There was a steady rain coming down, but Galileo was in a sunny mood. Little did he know, this was to be his last venture ever from Arcetri.
Galileo's Lost Message Page 24
