It was a letter from the King of Spain, poor Charles II. It was dated 1685, some fifteen years before. Despite the extreme similarity between the Spanish language and Italian, the Sovereign's contorted and tortured handwriting did not allow me to understand anything of what he had written. I opened the two other papers, in search of the beginning of the letter, in order to be able to understand to whom it was addressed. Instead, to my astonishment, I saw that each consisted of the ending of a letter written many years ago. Both were signed by the King of Spain, and here too I was unable to understand the contents.
What was the meaning of those truncated pages? And why ever were they in Abbot Melani's hands? They must be very important if he kept them hidden in his periwig.
Alas, I had very little time in which to reflect. There was something far more urgent to be done: to skim through Atto and Maria's two epistles and put them back in their place before Buvat's return.
Hardly had my eyes settled on the first page than I gave a start.
My dearest Friend,
I have learned the most surprising news which I am sure will surprise and interest you as much as it has me. His Holiness Pope Innocent XII has set up a special congregation for consultation on the Spanish question. It *"I the King". (Translator's note.) seems that the Pontiff, after a long period of hesitation, has at last given in to the pressing requests of the Spanish Ambassador Uzeda to give his opinion on El Rey's request, and has charged the Secretary of State, our benign Fabrizio Spada, together with the Secretary for Breves, Cardinal Albani, and the Chamberlain, Cardinal Spinola di San Cesareo, to study the situation with a view to preparing the Papal reply.
My heart was beating hard. Spada, Albani and Spinola: the same three eminences who had for days and days been meeting secretly at the Vessel and whose trail I and Atto had been trying in vain to follow. So the Spanish succession was the real reason they were meeting, not the conclave!
I raised my eyes from the letter, frowning. Why had not Atto run to tell me as soon as he had learned the news from Maria?
Feverishly, I skimmed through the letter. I stopped a little further on:
Thus, His Holiness has yielded to spirits more tenacious than his own. Will he have the necessary clarity of mind to act effectively on the King's behalf? Here, my friend, I begin once more to have my doubts. What does the Holy Father mean when, as you wrote, he is heard to moan: "We are denied the dignity which is due to the Vicar of Christ and there is no care for us"?
I switched rapidly to Atto's reply, which gave me even more food for thought:
Most Clement Madame,
I have known for some time of the congregation of the three cardinals responsible for drawing up an opinion on the Spanish Question. The matter is common knowledge here in Rome, at least in well-informed circles. If you were among us here at the festivities, you would already have learned of it…
I doubted those words. Did Atto perhaps want to make Maria believe that he had prior knowledge of everything, so as not to lose face? Melani's letter continued:
In reality, His Holiness had originally chosen Cardinal Panciati instead of Spinola, which would have been better for France, since Spinola is openly in favour of the Empire; but then the former was obliged to decline on grounds of poor health, so much so that he has not even been able to attend the delightful wedding at Villa Spada.
You were however informed most promptly, since the assignment will only be made officially tomorrow, on the 14th July.
No, Atto was pretending nothing to the Connestabilessa. He was telling the truth: to me, however, he had lied. From all these details, which he was setting forth with such confidence, it was clear that Atto had for some time been fully informed of the three cardinals' diplomatic manoeuvres following Charles of Spain's request for the Pope's assistance. But all this he had deliberately kept from me, and that, for a long time.
Then suddenly I remembered: what was it that I had heard those three spectators saying the evening before, just before the play began? The Spanish Ambassador, Count Uzeda, with the help of others, had at long last succeeded in convincing Pope Innocent XII. To do what, however, that they had not said. Nor had they mentioned the names of those who were supposed to have helped Uzeda by influencing His Holiness: they had only referred to "four sly foxes".
Now the Connestabilessa's letter made everything clear: plainly, Innocent XII did not wish to involve himself in the question of the Spanish succession, but he had in the end given in to pressure from the Spanish Ambassador. And who were the other "sly foxes" like him if not Albani, Spada and Spinola? That was why one of the trio, whom I had overheard the evening before, had silenced the others with the words " lupus in fabula" as soon as he had realised that Cardinal Spada was approaching.
In other words, the three eminences had used every means at their disposal to put pressure on the dying Pontiff to assign them the task of dealing with the question of the Spanish succession. But worst of all was the fact that when, on the day before — the 12th — Pope Pignatelli had let himself be convinced to set up the congregation, the three cardinals had already been meeting secretly at the Vessel for a week! Perhaps they were deciding on the tactics to adopt with the Holy Father.
To keep their meetings well hidden, what better cover than the wedding at Villa Spada? No one would become suspicious seeing them together, since Spada was the master of the house and both Albani and Spinola were among the guests. All that without counting the fact that they were so skilful in their manner of slipping away to the Vessel that the Abbot and I had never managed to catch them in flagrante during their meetings there.
All in all, it seemed that the poor old Pope no longer counted for anything, as the three guests had commented the evening before.
I felt bitter about this: alas, it meant that Spada, in his capacity as Secretary of State, was in all probability one of those (together with the Secretary for Breves, Albani, and the Chamberlain, Spinola di San Cesareo) about whom the Pontiff complained that he was denied the dignity due to the Vicar of Christ and treated inconsiderately, as the Connestabilessa had mentioned on no fewer than two separate occasions in her letters to Atto.
What was the Abbot's role in all this? Now that was clear: Melani's purpose was to spy on the trio, not with a view to the conclave but in order to know whether or not what they decided for the Spanish succession was favourable to France; and perhaps to hold himself at the ready to act on his King's behalf. Had I not read his correspondence with Maria, I would have remained in the dark about all this.
Discouraged and humiliated, I continued reading:
… and yet you must not think that His Holiness is in bad hands. From such information as I have been able to gather, he is perfectly and disinterestedly assisted by the Secretary of State, by the Secretary for Breves and by the Chamberlain, who look after all affairs of State with the greatest of care and solicitude. As I have already had occasion to write to you, they have in no way taken the crosier from His Holiness's hand but are only carrying out the difficult task with which the Pontiff has been so good as to entrust them, a task which they accepted humbly and with joy. Fear not.
So tense did I become at this juncture that I came close to crushing the letter between my fingers, leaving the mark of my clandestine reading. Such impudence! Not only did Atto know perfectly well what those three cardinals were up to during their secret meetings at the Vessel (despite the fact that he had never succeeded in finding them there) but he was speaking of it in unctuous, mellifluous terms. And this despite the fact that among the three was Cardinal Albani, in other words one of the Abbot's bitterest enemies: the one who, only the evening before, thanks to Ugonio's information, we had discovered to be in cahoots with Lamberg. The whole thing was really rather strange; what was Abbot Melani hiding?