The driver told us to take care, but carefully avoided asking us what we proposed to do in that God-forsaken place at that hour.
The streets were singularly free of any sign of life; yet it was a warm, comforting summer night of the kind beloved by insomniacs, clandestine lovers and adventurous boys. Judging by the deathly pall over all our surroundings, one might have thought we were in the midst of a blizzard in the dark lands of the far north of the kind so well described by Olaus Magnus.
The corpisantaro carried a big greasy sack on his shoulder. We took a lane that led out into the fields, split into two separate roads, then petered out amidst a group of ruins. Our march was long and tortuous. We crossed vegetable gardens, then an uncultivated field. The only counterpoint to our footsteps was the chirping of crickets and the petulant buzz of mosquitos. We had in truth to advance rather cautiously, to avoid falling into some hidden ditch.
"Is it still far?" asked Atto, somewhat impatiently.
"'Tis a particulate and secreted location," said the corpisantaro in justification, "that must remain incognito."
Suddenly, Ugonio stopped and drew from his sack three filthy hooded cassocks.
"Only three?" I asked.
The corpisantaro explained that Sfasciamonti could not come with us.
"These vestibulements would be overmuch too tight-knitted for him," said he, pointing at the cloaks. "He has an excess of corpulousness. Better that he should vegetate here until our retourney, decreasing the scrupules so as not to increase our scruples, naturalissimally."
The catchpoll grunted some discontented comment but did not protest. What a strange destiny for Sfasciamonti, I thought. He'd striven so long to investigate the cerretani, despite the opposition of colleagues and superiors, and here he was, reduced to doing so on Abbot Melani's behalf: in other words, as a mercenary. And now, after travelling by night all the way to Albano, he could not even come with us to the meeting.
I put on the smallest of the cassocks. There is no point in my dwelling upon the disgust that those vile, stinking rags inspired in me, worn for years by creatures accustomed to crawling amidst subterranean rubbish in a world utterly alien to the very notion of cleanliness. They reeked of stale urine, rotting food and acid sweat. I heard Atto cursing under his breath against Ugonio's companions and their filth. Buvat put up with these clothes uncomplainingly, faithful secretary that he was.
The undeniable advantage of the garments was, however, their disproportionately voluminous cowls which covered almost all one's face, the outsized sleeves which concealed one's hands and the way they trailed along the ground, so that one could walk without one's footwear or stockings being visible. Holding back a wave of nausea, I slipped my arms into the sleeves. I had been transformed into a smelly cocoon of clumsy, formless sackcloth. Only their stature rendered Atto and Buvat a little less awkward.
"What? No lantern?" Atto protested once more when he learned from Ugonio that we would have to proceed in the dark. The corpisantaro was adamant: from that moment on, we risked being discovered and unmasked by the cerretani. What was more, I remembered that the tomb robbers always moved without light, both by night and in the dark tunnels under Rome.
Like three faceless ghosts, Buvat, Atto and 1 followed Ugonio who guided us along a pathway visible only to him. In a hoarse whisper, Sfasciamonti wished us good luck.
As I walked, the stink of the caftan I wore cancelled out the smell of the effluvia of the countryside by night. I crossed myself mentally and prayed the Lord not to judge too severely the rash acts which we were surely about to commit. I sought courage in the thought that only the future dowries of my little girls could justify such recklessness.
After a long straight walk on the level, the path made a great curve and sloped gradually down into a damp ravine where only a few sinister and wavering glimmers reached us from the heavens.
Suddenly, as though magically exuded from the darkness, a few figures appeared nearby. An old cripple, supported by two companions, was coming towards us. Behind them, emerging from the nocturnal mists, other similar beings appeared.
Before us stood a great stone wall which seemed to be that of an enormous edifice. We entered through a narrow tunnel. A number of torches set into the walls at last cheered the soul and the eyes. Suddenly, however, rock, moss and bare earth closed in on us, forming an impregnable fortress. The tunnel had come to an end. Ugonio turned, showing us his broken, blackish teeth in a malicious smile, taking pleasure in our discomfiture.
Buvat and I exchanged alarmed looks. Had we been led into a trap? The corpisantaro gestured that we were to make sure that our faces were well hidden under our cowls, so that no one could distinguish our features. Then he leaned against the wall to our left. The rock swallowed him up: Ugonio had entered it like water absorbed into a sponge.
Almost as though emerging from another dimension, he took a step backwards and motioned us to follow him.
Obviously, Ugonio had not penetrated the substance of the rock. The sharp noise of the painted wood forming the door set into the rock face had escaped me. This was a secret passage which intruders would be utterly unable to find but which Ugonio had obviously taken who knows how many times.
Once inside, it took a few moments for our eyes to become accustomed to the new situation. We looked all around us. Neglected for centuries, enormous and powerful, and now crawling with cerretani, the Roman amphitheatre of Albano lay before us.
"So we came in by a secret passage," I whispered in Ugonio's ear.
"To bring about more benefice than malefice," he assented, "the normal orifices have been blockified. No strangers or noseinsinuators must get in here tonight."
"But no one stopped us."
"It is not necessitable. There are many guardians postified everywhich where and any introoter will be visualised, compressed and suppressed."
So the amphitheatre was protected by a system of sentinels responsible for finding any intruders and rendering them harmless. Thanks to the disguise provided by Ugonio, no one had suspected us.
Along the internal perimeter of the amphitheatre, a long series of torches lit up the scene. In that vast space, enclosed but open to the sky, I felt simultaneously disoriented and imprisoned. Above our heads, the star-studded black of the sky warned that there was no hope of escape for those without wings. Waves of murmuring coming from the arena maliciously tickled the senses and the spirit. The air was sickly-sweet, humid and loaded with sin.
"But yes, of course, the amphitheatre," said Atto under his breath, "it had to be here…"
"Do you know this place?" I asked.
"Of course. Back in Cicero's day…"
Ugonio silenced us with a sudden movement of his arm. A few paces behind us there was still that old cripple with his two friends who had escorted him from outside. The animal caution with which the corpisantaro was leading us seemed all but tangible; and already we could feel the dismal atmosphere of a secret meeting of brigands clutch at our shoulders like some rapacious lemur.
From the centre of the arena shone the rays of several torches which, from what we could hear and see, lit up an assembly. At the same time, a confused babble of voices reached us. We approached, still following prudently in Ugonio's footsteps. After passing a heap of firewood, we could at last get a look at the scene.
A few paces ahead of us stood a huge brazier, as high as a man, in which a great flame burned generously, crackling and sending sparks high up into the sky. All around were small groups of cerretani; some were idly eating a wretched meal, others were gulping down cheap wine and yet others were playing cards. Then there were some who were welcoming new arrivals, raising their arms in salutation. The company was one great multitude of sordid, ill-dressed, mud-bespattered, evil-smelling people.