"The Itchies are mangy, scabby lepers and the like, and they beg like all the others. The Palliards are those who cut their hands or feet and seem to be crippled, but there's nothing wrong with them at all. They make false wounds on an arm or a leg with a piece of bloody liver, and beg. The Marmots pretend to be dumb or to have no tongue, and beg. The Bullies are those who go begging dressed in mountain men's sheepskins. The Sharpers play in hostelries and inns with marked cards and loaded dice, they're as cunning as they come. The Sweeps are those who say they're Jews and they have families, and they've converted to Christianity. That way they collect plenty of alms. Last but not least, there are the Doxies and the Autem Morts, who are women that beg in various ways. The Doxies are young and good company, whereas the Autem Morts are good for the hospital or the tavern and for the most part they're old."
I skimmed through the statement rapidly until I came to the important information about Albano.
"I have heard said that in May many beggars mean to meet at the grottoes of Albano, because they want to elect the new Maggiorengo-General and to give out the new jargon for us to speak, but, as we've heard that this has been stolen, they mean to set things in order and to lay down penalties so that no one gives the game away. And whoever does give us away they'll play Martin with — in other words, he'll find himself on the wrong end of a dagger. And I've heard that some fellows found that Pompeo near Pescheria and started to beat him up, and if he'd not run to a Church for sanctuary with the priests, they'd have killed him, as everyone was so angry with him for having sold out on them."
So the cerretani would be meeting at Albano, as Sfasciamonti had told us (for safety, the statement spoke of May instead of July). They said someone had stolen their new secret language and they meant to restore order (though Geronimo did not say how they proposed to do so). What's more, they wanted to kill Pompeo, alias II Roscio, because they had heard he'd blabbed. But who'd told them?
At the end, the criminal notary asked why the mendicant, who had made a full confession, did not abandon such bad company and such infamous practices and find a trade, as so many did in Rome.
"Sir, I'll tell you the truth. We like this way of living freely here and there, sponging for bed and board, without having to make any efforts, far too much and, in short, whoever once has tasted of the canters' way of life will never give it up that easily. This is true both for the men and the women. I hope that with God's help I shall be able to change my life, if I can get out of prison, 'cos I'd like to go and stay with the friars of San Bartolomeo on the island and take care of their donkey."
"In the end, of course, we had to let him go," laughed Sfasciamonti who, as had happened with Il Roscio, could certainly not have someone imprisoned who had not been legally arrested. "He'll surely go and take care of the donkey, so long as his comrades don't catch him first and play Martin with him, as they put it."
"But how could they know he's been questioned?" I asked, worried about the idea of another leak of this kind of information.
Sfasciamonti's visage darkened.
"In the same way as after Il Roscio's arrest."
"Meaning?"
"I don't know."
"Come now, what do you mean?"
"These cerretani are diabolical. One of them says something and suddenly they all know about it."
"It's true, damn it," Atto echoed him forcefully after a moment's silence, "they really are diabolical."
This time, Buvat was not there. "Who," I asked, "played the part of the criminal notary?"
"A real notary," the catchpoll replied.
"How can that be?"
"There's no more perfect forgery than an authentic object," Atto interjected.
"I don't understand."
"That's a good sign. It means the old law still works, and three centuries hence it will still be working," replied the Abbot.
"Now I remember that when we met you spoke to me of how false documents sometimes contain the truth. Is that what you meant?"
"No, this time I meant the exact opposite, and I'm not speaking only of papers but far more. I'll give you an example: who mints money in a state?" asked Melani.
"The Sovereign."
"Exactly. So the coin that comes from his mint, the state mint, will always be genuine."
"Yes."
"In fact, no. Or at least, not always. The Sovereign can always, if he wants, mint false money, and in large quantities: for example, to finance a war. All he need do is produce coin with a lower gold content than its nominal value. Now, will that money be true or false?"
"False!" I answered, contradicting what I had just said.
"But the King minted it. So it will be both true and false at the same time. To be precise, this money will be genuine but misleading. The trick's as old as the world. Four hundred years ago, when the King of France, Philip IV the Fair, wanted to finance a war against the Flemings, he reduced the livre tournois by half. Initially, it weighed eleven and a half ounces. But he also did the same thing with its gold content, lowering it from 23 carats to 20 carats. That way the King's coffers gained six thousand Parisian livres 'under the counter'. In the process, however, he reduced the land to extreme poverty."
"Does that kind of thing still happen today?"
"More than ever. William of Orange did it when he minted forged and suitably 'lightened' Venetian zecchini."
"How awful! False things that reveal the truth and true things that spread what's false," I sighed.
"That's the chaos of human society, my boy. That pain-inthe-proverbial, Albicastro, did say at least one thing that was absolutely right: 'Human affairs, like the Sileni of Alcibiades, always have two faces, each the opposite of the other.' That is and always will be the way of the world: open a Silenus, and you'll find everything transformed into its opposite," concluded Atto, surprising me by quoting the Dutchman whom he so detested.
The Abbot was speaking of the Sileni mentioned by the violinist, those grotesque statuettes which contained divine images within.
"Getting back to the subject," added Melani. "Friend Sfasciamonti had Geronimo examined by a real notary, who drew up a record of the interrogation that was in the correct form down to the smallest details, as not even Buvat could have done. It is not a false document. It contains information which is somewhat… imprecise, if you wish, like certain dates; nevertheless, it was drawn up by a genuine notary, assisted by genuine sergeants. It is not a faithful document, but it is an authentic one, indeed, most authentic. Is what I say correct?" asked Atto, turning to his travelling companion.
The catchpoll said nothing. He was not pleased that these methods should be spoken of openly, but he could not deny what had been said. Instead of answering, he looked away from us, thus giving his tacit assent.
"Remember, my boy," said Atto to me, "great falsifications call for great means; and these, only the state possesses."
Following Ugonio's directions, we ordered the coachman, a mercenary used to all manner of missions (nocturnal fugues, adulteries, clandestine meetings) to take us to a quiet spot in the town. We were set down in a dark alley behind a big haystack. The houses were plunged in darkness. Only from rare windows did faint lights still glimmer, while the sole denizens of the narrow streets were cats and their customary victims.