"A visitor? Was I expecting a visitor, Chalmers?" Milton replied.
"Well, sir, that is a good question. I believe that you were not expecting anyone at this exact moment. But it appears that you are indeed expecting this young man."
"How so, Chalmers?"
"Sir, he says that he wrote to you a month back, and you responded to him, indicating that you would receive him when next he visited London. He says he is from Cambridge, sir," Chalmers added surreptitiously.
"What did you say his name is, Chalmers?"
"Sir, his name is Newton...Isaac Newton."
"Ah, yes! Now I recall. And so I did - I exchanged letters with a young man named Newton from Cambridge. How does he look to you, Chalmers?"
"Sir, er, I'm not quite sure how to respond. I would say quite interesting looking."
"My, that is cryptic, Chalmers! Tell me more, please!"
"Sir, he is dressed in his academic robe. I'd say he's about thirty years in age, and he is a bit disheveled. He has long reddish blonde hair that sort of flies outwards as if he were standing in a gale. And he seems in a great hurry, sir."
"Well, then," Milton replied with mirth, “Let us not keep the young man waiting! Please, usher him in straight away!"
"Yes, sir," came the compliant reply, and Chalmers padded out of the room to carry out his command.
As he did so, Milton was struck by a thought. There was something about the circumstance that reminded him of another time, another place. He searched his mind for an event, something in the distant past, something....
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening before he could recover the memory he was searching for. Chalmers came in, followed by a young man. Milton arose from his chair and held out his hand, saying "Good morning, sir. Mr. Newton, if I am not mistaken!"
The young man approached, smiling, and grasped Milton’s hand, replying, "Sir, yes. My name is Isaac Newton. I wrote to you from Cambridge. Sir, it is a great honor to meet you."
Milton smiled at the young man, but he was remembering many years ago, in another place. The roles had been reversed, and on that occasion he had been the visitor, the recipient of a cryptic phrase by the Great Man.
Chapter 13
The Starry Message
All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.
-Galileo Galilei (1564-1642)
Arcetri - 1997
Professor Bulgatti punched the villa doorbell. Shortly thereafter, he was ushered into the villa by the two guards.
On seeing Antonietta, Bulgatti motioned, “Surely your guards are not necessary.”
Dismissing the guards, a nonetheless surprised Antonietta said to them, “He’s okay. You can go.”
“Why am I not surprised!” Paul blurted out with genuine disgust on seeing him enter the study with Antonietta. “So, what brings you here, Bulgatti?”
At this the surly fellow sat without even asking for permission and blubbered perfunctorily, “So, I see that you still have the document. That is good,” and as he said this last he leaned back in his chair and placed his bridged hands on his chest in apparent self-satisfaction, as if to imply, “You can’t fool me!”
“What makes you think that?” Antonietta interjected.
“Don’t toy with me, Contessa. I have continued to observe your movements. It is obvious that you are still searching for clues. You have the document, or you would not still be attempting to find out its hidden meaning.” At this, Bulgatti raised one cupped hand and studied his fingernails, signaling his profound self-assurance that he was correct in his assessment.
In response Paul said nothing. He simply raised his wine glass and took a long slow sip. Antonietta stared at Paul, awaiting his next move. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Eventually, having by now evidently begun to grow doubtful of his certainty due to the lack of reaction from his prey, Bulgatti offered hopefully, “The time has come, Contessa. You must turn the document over to me. Otherwise, you will most certainly lose it when they make their second attempt. Only the Linceans can protect you and the document from your pursuers.”
Panic welling up within her, Antonietta replied, “Second attempt, what second attempt?”
Sensing that he had regained the upper hand, Bulgatti rose and continued with, “Contessa, surely you realize that they will discover that the document that you gave them is a forgery, a copy.”
Stunned by his disclosure, Antonietta responded, “What? How do you know that?”
At this Bulgatti smiled self-assuredly and responded, “It was obvious from the start. Why else would they have halted their pursuit of you? Besides, within twenty-four hours my informants in the Vatican told us that Count Floridiana was in possession of the document.
“At first we turned our attentions toward stealing the document from him, but when you continued searching for clues, it became clear that the document in the Count’s possession is a fake. You still have the original,” and Bulgatti said this last with complete self-assurance.
“Excellent deduction,” Paul replied. “Unfortunately, it is incorrect, Bulgatti.”
At this Bulgatti arched an eyebrow and uttered a single word of doubt, “Oh?”
Paul stared back at him, the two locked in a pose of mutual distrust. Finally, Bulgatti sat yet again and proffered, “I assure you, Professore Woodbridge, the Linceans mean you no harm. We want only what you want.”
“And exactly what is that?” Antonietta interjected.
At this Bulgatti smiled confidently, now outwardly certain that he had penetrated their hoax, “We want the document to see the light of day. We want the world to know that it exists. We are confident that anything that Galileo would leave to the world at the end of his life is most certainly to the good of mankind.”
Paul stared implacably at Bulgatti. Antonietta looked away and, subsequently glancing back towards Paul, she caught his eye as if to say, “What do we do now?”
Paul eventually broke the silence with, “Let’s suppose that we do not actually have the document. Let’s suppose, however, that we have an idea where it might be. What would you say to that, Bulgatti?”
Bulgatti placed his bridged hands within his lap, signifying that he was satisfied with progress up to that point. He stared at Paul for a moment, then, glancing sidelong towards Antonietta, he announced abruptly, “I believe that we can do business to your satisfaction, Contessa. We are, after all, your best hope.”
“What do you have in mind?” Antonietta asked carefully.
Bulgatti was obviously prepared for this line, as he immediately replied, “We are but one step away from resolving this impasse, Contessa. I am no fool. I realize that we must gain your trust in order to be of help to you. Given the circumstances, it is not surprising that you continue to mistrust me. So this is what I propose. I offer to arrange a secret meeting of the Linceans with you. I believe that you will find us to be worthy of your complete trust. What do you say to that, Contessa?”
Antonietta glanced toward Paul, unfortunately garnering nothing useful from his implacable facade. After a moment, he simply shrugged his acceptance of Bulgatti’s proposition if that was indeed her wish. Antonietta turned back towards Bulgatti and proffered, “I accept your offer. When can you arrange it?”
At this Bulgatti glanced at his wristwatch and said matter-of-factly, “As I am sure you know, time is of the essence. Allora, how about tonight? We can be in Roma in time for the Lincean assembly.”
At this Paul abruptly sat forward and announced, “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Bulgatti?”
Bulgatti shrugged and responded, “As I said to the contessa, you have no other options.”
At this Antonietta nodded her implicit agreement, and Paul rose to prepare for the drive back to Roma.
Bulgatti smiled at Antonietta and said, “Contessa, I will not disappoint, I promise you.”
Five hours later the three passed by the
Porta San Pancrazio. Shortly thereafter they pulled up to a villa on the Janiculum Hill. The three emerged thenceforth, and Bulgatti inquired, “Do you know where we are, Professore?”
“If I am not mistaken, this is where the banquet was held. Am I correct?”
Bulgatti smiled knowingly and replied, “Excellent, Professore. I would have expected nothing less from you.” The two thenceforth made for the interior of the villa, followed by Antonietta.
Surging forward, Antonietta tugged at Paul’s sleeve and asked, “What banquet? What is this place, Paulo?”
Paul whispered a reply, “This is where Galileo was inducted into the Lincean Academy in 1611. At the time it was owned by a priest. I have no idea who it belongs to now.”
Overhearing their exchange, Bulgatti added, “The Linceans purchased the villa almost two hundred years ago. The members at that time felt it was only fitting for the academy to pay homage to their history, and what better place for ceremonial activities than the very place where the academy’s most famous member was inducted?”
Shortly thereafter the three entered into a large hallway, whereupon Bulgatti motioned for them to follow him down the dimly lit passageway. They arrived at a doorway, Bulgatti ceremonially pulling it open and gesturing for the pair to enter. Paul and Antonietta did so, but to their horror they were greeted from within by Bruno and his buddies. Bruno immediately grasped Antonietta by the wrists, securing them with a pair of handcuffs. Grappling with Paul, Bruno’s buddies managed to cuff him as well.
Bulgatti now grinned patronizingly at the two of them and announced with cruel satisfaction, “It has been an interesting chase, Professor Woodbridge! But unfortunately, it must now come to an end.” With this, he turned to Bruno and commanded, “I will take my reward now, as promised.”
Bruno smiled implacably at Bulgatti and responded politely, “Of course, Professore Bulgatti…boys?” and, turning to his fellow henchmen, he nodded a command of his own, at which Bulgatti was summarily shot to death before their eyes.
Both Paul and Antonietta lurched in fright, immediately glancing about frantically for some means of escape. At this, Bruno held up a single index finger, wagging it frenetically as if to say, “Not a chance.” He then said politely, “Let this be a sign to you both. We will not tolerate another deception by you. This time we want the real document, and if you do not supply it to us, a similar fate awaits the both of you.”
Paul stared at Antonietta, who in turn stared at him in obvious terror. She then inquired vacantly, “What do you want, Bruno?”
“Please do not toy with me, Contessa,” Bruno replied. “It is tiresome of you. Just tell us where it is, please.”
At this, Paul interrupted, murmuring, “Tell them, Antonietta, please. It’s not worth getting killed over it.”
“You fool! They’re going to kill us anyway!”
“What makes you say that?” he responded.
“Offhand, I’d say because we were just witnesses to a murder,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” he answered lamely, “Well, all the same, I don’t see much of an alternative. We’re just going to have to trust them.”
“Right,” she responded doubtfully, “We’ll just promise our old friend Bruno that we won’t say anything. Right, Bruno?”
Staring implacably at her, Bruno offered, “I assure you, Contessa, Count Floridiana has instructed us to ensure that no harm comes to you.”
Realizing the implicit meaning behind his response, Antonietta’s eyes suddenly bulged in terror. “No!” she screamed, “We both live, or you get nothing!”
“Oh, come now, Contessa, you must know that we cannot do that!” Bruno exclaimed.
“You must! I order you! I will tell you where the document is, but only if you promise to spare Professore Woodbridge!” she spat back at him.
At this Bruno chuckled, subsequently muttering, “You? Order ME? Ha!”
“Listen to me,” she replied, “Tell Sandro that I will come back to him, but only if he agrees to let Professore Woodbridge go.”
“Why would he do that?” Bruno queried.
“Because he still loves me,” she responded.
At this, Bruno seemed to understand for a moment, but then he added, “But why would you do this for the Professore, Contessa?”
Glancing forlornly at Paul, she responded in misery, “Because only he knows the secrets contained within Galileo’s message, that’s why.”
“Hmmm, yes, I think I see,” Bruno responded pensively. “You would keep silent so that the professore could be persuaded to divulge the meaning behind the message. Yes, I see,” but then he glanced toward Paul, and, turning back toward her, he asked, “But why would the professore keep quiet as well, Contessa?”
“Because he is in love with me, you fool! If either of us were to tell, you would kill the other, right?” she responded to Bruno, once again glancing hopefully in Paul’s direction.
Bruno turned to Paul, queried, “Is it so, Professore? Are you in love with the contessa?”
At this, Paul silently nodded his concurrence, subsequently responding despondently, “Yes, God help me, yes, of course I am,” and at this admission he glanced toward Antonietta briefly in embarrassment, then, lowering his head, he stared in misery toward his feet.
Bruno scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment, eventually murmuring, “Such a complicated mess,” but then said to his buddies, “Let me call the Boss, boys. I’ll be right back,” and at this he strode from the room.
He was back within moments, announcing, “Okay, here’s the thing, Contessa – we can do this deal, but it all hinges on the document. We gotta have the document before it’s a done deal. I’m sorry, but that’s the boss’s condition. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” she responded coldly, “We have a deal.”
“Okay, great,” he replied with obvious relief. “Here’s how it’s gonna go. The contessa goes with us. Meanwhile, the professore gets a free ticket to our secret dungeon until the contessa has turned over the document. Once that’s done, we let the professore go. He goes home to the United States, the contessa goes back to the boss, and the deal is done. Okay?” and at this announcement he scrutinized Antonietta for confirmation.
Apparently speechless with anguish, Antonietta simply nodded her acquiescence.
“Okay, boys, take him away,” Bruno commanded, at which two of his buddies grabbed Paul and ushered him ominously from the room.
Peering back over his shoulder, Paul thought to say some parting word to Antonietta, but there was nothing that he could think of that seemed to fit the circumstance.
Sometime Later
Paul felt himself floating, adrift on an ocean of nothingness, the waves slowly pushing him to and fro, to and fro. “Am I awake, or am I dreaming?” he murmured to himself. Continuing to rock to and fro, his thoughts carried him along, softly speaking to him thusly,
Tis said that dark must dull the mind,
But one man’s dark is bright as day.
Still, all too soon this light shall fade,
So pray these lines reveal the way-
The quill alight with fear and haste.
The end result shall lead to heaven
Suddenly he struggled to open his eyes. But there was only darkness. Was he in heaven? Or was he simply blind? Now awake, he realized that he had been dreaming, recounting within his dream the now perfectly memorized Galilean poem, but in some mysteriously jumbled fashion.
He was by now well aware that he wasn’t blind; realizing instead that he had been blindfolded. “Ah, now I remember,” he thought to himself, “They drugged me, just before we set off down the highway. Ah, yes, I remember. How long have I been out, and where am I now?”
He felt about himself for something, anything familiar. His grasp fell immediately on a spider web-
The sinuous web doth point the way-
Near circles crossing with the endings
Each tracing out MS abodes,
Recoiling at the repulsive touch, he actually spoke aloud to himself, “What the…have I fallen into the Galilean poem? Am I now entrapped within the Great Man’s web?” Shaking his head to dispel the cobwebs within, he dragged himself fully awake from his drowsy state. In doing so, he realized that his left hand remained securely handcuffed, whereas the right cuff was attached to something. Unfortunately, the blindfold was attached too securely for him to remove it with his single free hand.
As his memory gradually returned, he began to recall the events that had led up to his current demise. Suddenly recalling events in their entirety, he lurched in the realization that time was of the essence. “Oh, my God,” he moaned to himself, “The promises, Bruno’s assurances – they’re worthless, completely worthless. Oh, God, I’ve got to get out of here. Oh, God, Antonietta!” With this forlorn pronouncement, he set to work in an attempt to solve his immediate problem - how to escape.
Gathering his senses, he lay in the darkness a few moments contemplating, still taken completely off guard by his temporary blindness. For some reason his mind wandered back to the poem, the words image of the blind drawing him to the similarity between his current demise and that of Galileo so long ago. His own obsession of late had been focused on a blind man, aged and incapacitated, who had somehow overcome an untenable situation. Therein lay Paul’s potential salvation – what Galileo had overcome, surely he could also surmount.
Feeling about, he discovered that he was lying upon an old iron bed. Aha! He would deploy Archimedes’ principal of the lever, ergo, working carefully and deliberately, he slowly wedged one leg of the bed between his left wrist and the handcuff, eventually managing to pry the cuff open, thereby freeing his hand. With his hands free, he was thus able to remove the blindfold, thereby restoring his sight. All good thus far, but that was simply the first step.
Galileo's Lost Message Page 28
