"You happen to be talking to the right person: within a few days, the wife of the Deputy Palace Steward is due to give birth. For months now, I have been going regularly to check on her. It will be a long, difficult thing, the woman is very fat and I shall certainly need her husband's help. Thus, the palace will be unguarded."
"But there will be other servants around," I observed.
"You seem to have forgotten that they have all been transferred to Villa Spada as reinforcements for this week's festivities," retorted Gloridia with a sly smile. "Indeed, I'll tell you more: the Deputy Steward and his wife are temporarily lodging in a room on the ground floor, the better to keep watch now that the palace is empty. They, too, were supposed to be sent to Villa Spada, but because of the pregnancy they were left in the caretaker's lodge. That opens up a golden opportunity for us," she concluded confidently.
How sure of herself my Cloridia had become, I thought with some amusement. She feared for me when I was going around without her, but if, as now, she could accompany me or be nearby, she became emboldened, almost as though she felt herself to be a powerful goddess whose presence alone sufficed to make me invincible.
"And is there really no one else in the palace?" Atto asked dubiously.
"Of course, the guards are still there, but they make their rounds outside the palace, and that's all," explained Cloridia.
"We, however, need to enter Palazzo Spada as soon as possible," objected Atto. "We cannot wait for your delivery to arrive at its term."
"And where's the problem? I'll go and visit her today for a check on her progress: a few tisanes with good stimulating herbs… and 'tis done."Do you mean that you can make her give birth earlier?" I asked, taken aback, for my wife had never told me that midwives had that ability. "How is that possible?"
"Easy. I shall make her womb sneeze."
Atto and I fell silent, fearing that Cloridia was mocking us.
"Do you mean that a woman's uterus can sneeze?" the Abbot asked circumspectly.
"Of course. Just as though it were the nose. Take a dram of marjoram, half a dram of love-in-a-mist, add a scruple of very finely pounded cloves and white pepper for luck, half a scruple of nutmeg, white hellebore and castor and mix it all to prepare a fine, almost impalpable powder. One must blow several times into the woman's womb with a quill, and that will provoke sneezing marvellously. If that should not prove sufficient, one can throw a paste prepared by mixing the same powder with fat onto hot coals so that it produces smoke to make the womb sneeze. Obviously, it will first be necessary to open up the passage as wide as possible in advance, and that can be done by attaching a sheet tightly to the woman's navel."
"Excuse me," interrupted Abbot Melani anxiously, "are you sure this is not dangerous?"
"Of course not. On the contrary, these are remedies greatly appreciated by women's wombs, just like bringing odours of musk and amber before them: they have the effect of pulling them downwards, for they are attracted by such odours. I am sure that, thanks to such stratagems, the Deputy Steward of Palazzo Spada will soon be calling for me with all haste, as the infant will be about to come into the world."
"And what if it should not work?"
"It will work. Otherwise I shall make use of some simples which work extremely rapidly because of their occult properties, such as the aquiline stone tied to the thigh, or the doeskin, or seed of porcelain to be drunk mixed with white wine, or even a bitch's placenta pulverised and spread on the vulva; or the skins that serpents leave in March, to be fed into the womb. But this last remedy is less prudent."
Abbot Melani paled on hearing Cloridia list all those venereal manoeuvres so insouciantly."When would you expect that…" I began.
"Judging by appearances, as she's so fat, labour should not begin before tomorrow afternoon. Is that too late?"
"No, that will do well. Only, how shall we manage to enter and leave the palace?" asked the Abbot.
"Today, when I go to Palazzo Spada, I shall discreetly gather information and study the situation; tomorrow morning, I shall be able to tell you. There is only one thing you will have to see to on your own: the keys to the rooms."
"That will not be a problem," answered Atto with a little smile.
I knew who he had in mind.
Evening the Sixth
12th J ULY, 1700
This time, my work place was in the garden, of course, need I say dressed as a janissary, setting up the artificial lights for the opera galante which was about to be staged. I was to work under the guidance of the Major-Domo, Don Paschatio Melchiorri, who in his turn had been well instructed by the architect of the scenery. The latter had in fact had a rather original idea: to make of these preparations, which were in fact quite unusual, a spectacle in its own right, to attract and entertain the guests while they awaited the start of the performance.
The area had been provided with a work table and, in the middle, a fire, on which a cauldron of water had been put to boil. A group of cardinals drew near, intrigued by these activities.
"We shall now put up various transparent colours for the embellishment of this evening's scenic jest, and first of all the colour sapphire, or sky-blue, which is also the most beautiful," announced Don Paschatio, resplendent in dress livery, in town crier's tones. I, meanwhile, followed him with a barber's basin and a brass vase under my arms, as well as a shoulder bag.
"Master of the Fowls, take a piece of sal ammoniac from your bag. Rub it on the bottom and the sides of the basin until it is all used up, then add a little water, but very little. The more the salt, the more splendid the colour."
I obeyed, after which he made me filter the water with a felt pad and pour it into the brass vase. I was astounded to see that the water which came out of this was sapphire-coloured. He then made me pour part of this into two large glass jars of a curious half- moon shape, one half of which was convex, the other concave."And now," proclaimed Don Paschatio, "we shall make Emerald Water." Thereupon, he drew from the bag a little jar containing a certain yellow powder which looked just like saffron.
He poured a little of this into one containing sky-blue water, stirred it quickly with a spoon and the liquid at once changed colour, becoming green.
We then dissolved some rock alum in the cauldron of boiling water, made it foam and decanted it through a piece of felt into five different containers, the last of which was almost as big as a cauldron.
"And here is the colour ruby," declaimed Don Paschatio to the bystanders, pouring into the first jar a few drops of highly coloured vermilion wine, which promptly dyed the water a rather bright red.
"And now for the Afghan red!" exclaimed the Major-Domo, pouring red wine and white together into the second jar.
Into the last two containers, he poured a Frascati wine and a little bottle of Marino red.
"And here for you, last but not least, the colour page-grey, and topaz!" said he smugly, while stupefaction was painted on the faces of all those lords and eminences.
"And this?" asked Cardinal Moriggia, pointing at the biggest receptacle.
"This remains as it is: it will reproduce the colour diamond, which is that of the sun in the Greek Islands," said Don Paschatio, who had never been to Greece and was with some success repeating parrot-fashion the instructions passed down to him by the scenery designer.
With this, the spectacle of the preparation of the colours came to an end. What we were about to accomplish next, explained Don Paschatio, was to be kept out of sight of prying eyes.