"Rather than going after cranes, we shall hunt the parrot," announced Atto, "and with the best of arms, a falcon."
We returned to the villa, silently hoping that no one would ask us what we were doing or why. Fate was friendly to us. We met only one of Sfasciamonti's friends, on guard, who let us pass without posing any questions, although he did look at us somewhat curiously.
"It is horrible," I protested, as we straddled the wall bordering the Barberini estate, towards which Caesar Augustus had flown. "It will massacre him."
"Massacre, massacre…" chanted Atto smugly as we got him over the wall with the help of a stool. "Let us say that we shall teach him a lesson. The note belongs to us, the parrot knows that perfectly well. I could, to tell the truth, have used this method from the start, but you would never have agreed."
"What makes you think that I shall agree now?"
"The emergency. The parrot is no longer obeying any orders, the situation is out of control. Remember, my boy, emergencies call for uncomfortable decisions. And if there is no emergency, one must await, or even, if needs be, create one. That is an old technique employed by all men in government, which I have often had occasion to observe during the course of my career as a counsellor," said Atto with a disarming little smile, betraying a certain contentment that Caesar Augustus' petulant disobedience allowed him recourse to strong measures.
We jumped down from the wall; this was the natural continuation of a Roman wall, fortified with towers further to the left, which extended down almost as far as Piazza San Cosimato. Scrambling from the stool, the dog followed us over the barrier.
"Say what you will, the fact remains that the falcon is bloodthirsty," I protested. "I know perfectly well what it is capable of. Once I saw one during training catch a hen and split it asunder, tearing its heart from its breast still beating."
Meanwhile, the falconer had unhooded the falcon and released it. The hawk had climbed rapidly to a considerable height where it appeared as little more than a dark spot in the sky.
"Perhaps it won't ill-treat him too much," sniggered Melani. "In any case, the only thing that matters to us is the note. If he lets go of it, he'll come to no harm."
"You speak as though the falcon could understand what he's doing. Birds are beasts. They have neither intellect nor heart," I replied.
"Enough of that, boy," the falconer broke in.
He spoke with a northern accent, perhaps from Bologna, or Vicenza, where I knew that falconers had always been in abundance.
"Your ignorance is equalled only by the courage of my falcon," he told me in a harsh voice. "You say that birds have no pity. Do you not know that the great Palamedes, imitating the flight of cranes, which fly in V or A formation, or grouped to form many other letters, composed the characters from which came the alphabet, as Saint Jerome writes, and that from the imitation of the wise living of these cranes, or grues, comes the latin verb congruere, which means literally to be congruent, or coherent."
"No, I did not know that, but…"
While he imparted these notions to me, above our heads the falcon traced a series of threatening circles in search of his victim.
We advanced cautiously through the long grass, looking for traces of Caesar Augustus. Atto and the falconer were sure of tracking him down. I was rather less sure, but I thought that if that were to happen, I should be able to make the parrot understand that it would be in its best interests to return Albani's note, on pains of suffering the cruellest of combats. We all stood there with our noses pointing up in the air, waiting for something to happen. The hound sniffed feverishly at trees, looking halfway up, watching the slightest movements.
"And how can you say that birds have no heart? They practise gratitude, fidelity and justice far better than men. The sparrow- hawk captures a little bird to help with its digestion and keeps it alive all night close to its belly, whereupon, out of gratitude, it frees it instead of devouring it. Geese are even more modest than a young maiden: they couple only when they know that no one can see them and, afterwards, they wash thoroughly. Crows practice only marital love. Widowed, a turtledove will never mate again. Swallows always feed each of their fledglings fairly and equally. Are human beings capable of that? Furthermore, among fowls, the males are loquacious and the females taciturn: the contrary of men and, when one comes to think of it, far better. Lastly, geese, although rather inclined to gossip, when they know that an eagle is approaching, resist the temptation to honk and thus be discovered by putting a stone in their beaks.
"They even assist us when we are ilclass="underline" there is no better way of ridding oneself of stomach ache than to place on it a live duck. For pains in the ribs, you need only eat an Austrian parrot; those with weak stomachs should eat swan's, eagle's or cormorant's meat; the dropsy is treated with powder of burned bats, while for many distempers one takes swallows' nests dissolved in water, nor is there an end to the remedies which poultry breeders generously offer us, and… One moment."
The falconer had at last broken off. Everything happened suddenly. The dog barked loudly and pointed: he had found the quarry. From a nearby shrub we heard a loud rustling, then the beating of wings. Caesar Augustus, brilliantly white and fluffed- up with his yellow crest, escaped from the thicket and took to the air. The dog barked loudly but the falconer held him back from following and cried out:
"Look! Look!"
Hearing that call, the falcon knew that its time had come. Instinctively, it directed its beak downwards and plunged towards Caesar Augustus who had fortunately, although three times slower than his aggressor, gained a good start. He was flying towards the fortified Roman wall; the raptor corrected the angle of its attack as it drew closer. It was like a projectile, ready to plant the tip of its beak into the flesh of its victim, or to brake at the last moment, then turn and wound it with its deadly talons. It would only remain then for it to follow the disorderly fall, diving at last onto the poor injured and defenceless body on the ground and slaughtering it with two or three decisive blows to the breast.
The parrot hastened towards the great wall, behind which it presumably hoped to find shelter at least from the first attack.
"Caesar Augustus," I cried, hoping that he might hear me, but then I realised that everything was happening too fast for human senses.
The falcon was drawing ever closer. Twenty yards; fifteen; ten; seven. All of us, three men and a dog, stared breathlessly at the scene. The wall was too far off. The parrot could never make it that far. Only an instant and it would all be over. I awaited the impact.
"No," the falconer hissed angrily.
He had made it. At the very last moment, Caesar Augustus had opted for a nearer refuge. He had hidden himself in a group of trees thick enough to discourage the falcon, who slowed down and at once regained height.
"Caesar Augustus!" I called again, approaching at a run. "Let go of the paper and all will be well!"
We tried but failed to find the outline of the parrot among the branches. He had hidden really well, as the falconer, too, was forced to admit.
"You promised that you would give him time to ponder," I protested vigorously to Atto.
"I am sorry. I did not realise that things would go so quickly. Nevertheless, he has had all the time he needed for thinking."