Rita Monaldi - Imprimatur

"It seems I heard, when I was speaking to you a moment ago, that you are suffering from a certain intestinal flatulence. If you wish, I have with me a good remedy to rid you of that nuisance."

The two consented, not without some embarrassment. All four of us then resolved to descend to the ground floor, where Cristofano ordered me to prepare a small portion of good broth with which to administer the four grains per head of Oil of Sulphur. The physician would, in the meanwhile, anoint the back and loins of Stilone Priaso and Devize with his special balsam.

While Cristofano went to collect the necessary, which he had left in his chamber, the Frenchman went into a corner at the far end of the room to tune his guitar. I hoped that he would again play that intriguing piece which had so enchanted me in the morning, but, soon after, he rose and returned to the kitchen, where he stopped behind the table at which the Neapolitan poet was seated, and never again touched the instrument. Stilone Priaso had taken out a notebook and was scribbling something in it.

"Fear not, my boy. We shall not die of the pestilence," said he, turning to me as I busied myself in the kitchen.

"Perhaps, Sir, you foresee the future?" asked Devize ironically.

"Better than chirurgeons can!" joked Stilone Priaso.

"Your wit is inappropriate in this hostelry," warned the doctor, arriving with his sleeves rolled up and with the balsam in his hands.

The Neapolitan was the first to uncover his back, while Cristofano as usual listed the numerous virtues of his physick: "… and last but not least, 'tis also good for the penile caruncle. One needs but rub it vigorously into one's tail until it is absorbed, and relief is assured."

While I was busy with tidying and warming up the broth which I had been asked to prepare, I heard the trio communing ever more closely among themselves.

"… and yet I repeat, 'tis indeed he," I heard Devize whisper, his Gallic accent making his voice easy to recognise, above all when he pronounced words like "carriage", "war" or "correct" which made his elocution quite inimitable.

"There can be no doubt about it, no doubt," echoed Stilone Priaso's excited response.

"All three of us recognise him, and each in different ways," concluded Cristofano.

I stationed myself discreetly where I could overhear them, without crossing the threshold dividing the kitchen from the dining chamber. I soon understood that they were speaking of Abbot Melani, whose reputation was already known to all three.

"This much is certain: he is an extremely dangerous individual," affirmed Stilone Priaso peremptorily.

As always when he wished to imbue his words with authority, he focussed severely on an invisible point in front of him, while scratching the bridge of his nose with his little finger and nervously shaking his fingers as though to rid himself of who knows what fine powder.

"He must be kept under constant observation," he concluded.

The trio talked without paying any attention to me, as was, moreover, usual with almost all customers, to whom a serving boy was little more than a shadow. Thus it was that I learned a number of facts and circumstances which made me repent no little my having conferred for so long the night before with Abbot Melani and above all having promised him my services.

"Is he now in the pay of the King of France?" asked Stilone Priaso in a low voice.

"I maintain that he is. Even if no one can tell with certainty," replied Devize.

"Certain persons' preference is to side with all and with none," added Cristofano, continuing his massage and kneading Stilone Priaso's back even harder.

"He has served more princes than he himself can remember," hissed Stilone. "In Naples, I am sure that they would not even allow him to enter the city. More to the right, please," said he, turning to the physician.

Thus I learned, with unspeakable dismay, of the dark and turbulent past of Abbot Melani; a past of which he had not breathed a word to me the night before.

Since his earliest youth, Atto had been engaged by the Grand Duke of Tuscany as a castrato singer (and this, the abbot had indeed told me). But that was not the only task which Melani performed for his master; in reality, he served him as a spy and secret courier. Atto's singing was indeed admired and in demand in all the courts of Europe, which gave the castrato great credit among crowned heads, in addition to unusual freedom of movement.

"On the pretext of entertaining the sovereigns, he would introduce himself into the royal courts to spy, to stir and to corrupt," explained Devize.

"And then repeat everything to his principals," echoed Stilone Priaso acidly.

In addition to the Medici, Cardinal Mazarin had soon used Atto's double services, thanks to the ancient relations of friendship between Florence and Paris. The Cardinal had, indeed, become his foremost protector, and took him with him even on the most delicate diplomatic missions. Atto was regarded almost as one of the family. He had become the bosom friend of Mazarin's niece, for whom the King had so lost his head that he wished to marry her. And when, later, the girl was obliged to leave France, Atto remained her confidant.

"But then Mazarin died," resumed Devize, "and life became difficult for Atto. His Majesty had just attained his majority and mistrusted all the Cardinal's proteges," explained Devize. "What is more, he was compromised in the scandal involving Fouquet, the Superintendent of Finances."

I gave a start. Was not Fouquet the name which the abbot had mentioned in passing the night before?

"That was a false move," continued the French musician, "for which the Most Christian King pardoned him only after the passing of much time."

"Only a false move, you call it? But were not he and that thief Fouquet friends?" objected Cristofano.

"No one has ever succeeded in clarifying how matters really stood.

When Fouquet was arrested, a note was found containing the order to lodge Atto secretly in his house. That note was shown to Fouquet's judges."

"And how did the Superintendent explain it?" asked Stilone Priaso.

"He said that, some time previously, Melani had requested a sure refuge. That meddler had made an enemy of the powerful Due de la Meilleraye, the heir to Mazarin's fortune. The Duke, who was a most irascible character, had succeeded in persuading the King to have Melani removed from Paris and had already hired ruffians to give him a beating. Some friends therefore recommended him to Fouquet: in his home, he would be safe, since the two were not known to frequent one another."

"But then Atto and Fouquet were not acquainted!" said Stilone Priaso.

"'Tis not that simple," warned Devize with a knowing smile. "Twenty years have passed since then and I was a child at the time. Later, however, I perused the records of Fouquet's trial which in those days were more widely read than the Bible. Well, to his judges, Fouquet said: 'There existed no known frequentation between Atto and myself.'"

"What a sly fox!" exclaimed Stilone. "A perfect answer: no one could witness to having ever seen the two together; which did not, however, mean that they may not have been secretly in contact… In my opinion, the two did know each other, and that right well. The note speaks for itself: Atto was one of Fouquet's private spies."

"That is possible," said Devize, nodding his head in agreement. "What is, however, certain is that Fouquet's ambiguous reply saved Melani from prison. He slept in Fouquet's house and immediately afterwards left for Rome, escaping the beating. In Rome, however, other bad news reached him: the arrest of Fouquet, the scandal, his good name besmirched, the King's fury…"

"And how did he extricate himself from that predicament?" asked Stilone Priaso.