No question about it, the Chimera of Arezzo was indeed a showpiece of Etruscan bronze work. It was a beast with the head and haunches of a lion, a second head of a goat, and a tail ending in a serpent's head that curved around and looked about to bite the goat.
Interesting, though, that Lake was going on about Cosimo de Medici. Like the Medici family, Lake had made his fortune in banking—conventional financial services at first, but then moving aggressively and early into Internet banking—and he shared with Cosimo both aspirations to empire and a rather ruthless way of dealing with his adversaries. Where Cosimo had expelled all his rivals from his city of Florence and had annexed the neighboring city of Siena, sending his enemies to be beheaded or imprisoned in terrible dungeons, Lake had initiated and successfully completed a couple of really hostile takeovers of rival companies. Lake, allegedly a fan of all things Italian, had called his company Marzocco, after the heraldic lion of Florence. It is said that the defeated enemies of that city were once required to kiss the rear end of a statue of the animal, and figuratively speaking, that was pretty much what anybody who came in conflict with Lake eventually had to do.
On a more positive note, both Lake and de Medici, although separated by almost five hundred years, were significant patrons of the arts. Still, it was difficult to see where this conversation about art and empire was going. There was no way the Arezzo Chimera was up for sale, and I sincerely hoped he wasn't thinking I'd break into the archaeological museum in Florence to get it for him.
"It's so lifelike, isn't it?" he mused. "Even if it could never really exist. I mean, look at it. Doesn't it seem to be about to strike at something, a fight to the death?"
"Something or someone," I agreed. "Bellerophon, wasn't it, the hero who killed the chimera?"
"Brava," he said. "Again, you do live up to your advance billing, Ms. McClintoch. Bellerophon, indeed. Homer's Iliad, book six. The creature, a horrifying beast that breathed fire, was said to live in Lycia in Asia Minor, and yes, she—have you noticed how many of the monsters of ancient mythology were female?—was killed at last by the hero, Bellerophon. A Persian Saint George in some respects. I suppose the chimera could be an early version of a dragon myth. Do you recall how Bellerophon managed this rather daunting task his enemies had set for him?
"Didn't he fly over the creature on a winged horse and shoot an arrow with a plug of some kind on it that was melted by the chimera's breath? Something like that, anyway."
"That's correct. I see you know your mythology as well as your antiquities. Bellerophon was given the winged horse Pegasus by his father Poseidon, god of the sea, and flew over the chimera. He put a plug of lead on the tip of his arrow and shot it down her throat. It melted and seared the entrails of the chimera, killing her. She would have died in agony. Rather ingenious, wouldn't you say?"
"No doubt," I replied. There was something about his tone that bothered me, the rather gleeful spirit in which he recounted the tale, and his emphasis on the fact that the chimera was a she. Could it be that the billionaire had a misogynistic streak? "Look, this is all very interesting, Mr. Lake, but I still don't know what you want from me."
"Why, Bellerophon, of course," he said to me, placing a second photo in front of me. It showed a rearing winged horse with a man astride it, about to shoot an arrow. The photo was not as clear as the first, more of the home rather than the professional variety, but I could see it was an impressive piece of sculpture. Lake moved the two photos together, and it did, indeed, look as if the Arezzo Chimera was snarling up at the rearing horse and rider.
"What about the dimensions?" I said. "I can't tell from these photographs."
"Perfect," he replied. "The Arezzo Chimera is only about thirty-two inches high, rather small for a monumental sculpture, really. The Bellerophon is about six and a half feet. Towers over her."
"I don't recall any indication that there was a Bellerophon statue with the Chimera," I said rather dubiously, but I could feel myself getting excited.
"Ah, now this is where it gets interesting," Lake said. "I searched the city archives of Arezzo for that time period, the 1550s," he said, then paused abruptly as if he'd misspoken himself. "Rather, to be more accurate, I should say I had the archives searched for me. There is a reference to a large bronze like the Chimera being discovered outside the city gates on November 15, 1553, along with several smaller bronzes. There's a later notation to the effect that the tail was missing.
"Giorgio Vasari—Cosimo de Medici was his patron, and Vasari recorded many of his exploits—writing in 1568, says it was found in 1554, a year later than the archival records. He also mentions the missing tail. Some say Benvenuto Cellini replaced the tail—Cellini was an artist supported by de Medici—but I doubt that's true. In any event, the Chimera is not my interest. The Bellerophon is. I believe there are enough indications that there was more than one large bronze found in Arezzo, and given the legend and this photo, I think there's a good chance I've located it. I want this one, Ms. McClintoch, and I want you to get it for me. Are you up to the challenge?"
"Well, I. . . what would you want to do with it once you had it, Mr. Lake?" I asked.
"What would I do with it? Oh, I see what you mean. My intention is to turn it over to the museum in Florence. The Chimera, while magnificent, is not all that impressive by itself, I'm sure you'll agree. A question of scale, really. But with Bellerophon, the two pieces as they were meant to be will be truly astounding. They deserve to be together."
"That's a very generous gesture, Mr. Lake," I said. It was not unheard of, in Lake's case. I did recall he'd donated some very fine antiquities to various museums over the years, but still, I was on my guard.
"Yes and no," he said, with a rather disarming smile. "To be honest, I am launching a new high-tech fund here in Europe, and I want to make a positive impression, something that will make people sit up and notice, and then, of course, buy in. I think finding the Bellerophon and then donating it to the archaeological museum might do that for me. Wealthy philanthropist spends ten years tracking down missing Bellerophon, buys masterpiece for Italy, et cetera, et cetera. Then a couple of days later I launch the fund. Not entirely unselfish, of course, but still worth doing, I hope you agree." He spoke with the authority of someone who expects everyone to agree with him, and I found, somewhat to my surprise, that I did. Did it matter what motivated him? The important thing was that the Bellerophon be reunited with the Chimera and that everyone have an opportunity to appreciate them.
"I ask you again. Are you up to the challenge?" he said. "I'll pay you and pay you well. You'll get a commission on the purchase—we can discuss how much— and I will cover all your expenses. I have taken the liberty of opening a Swiss bank account for you, electronic, and my bank, of course, and if you agree, then ten thousand U.S. dollars will be deposited in it to defray expenses. Now," he said, naming a commission rate, "would that be worth your time?"