The Botticelli Secret - By Marina Fiorato Page 0,168
obvious that Mercury is Milan. But you must have known before, for you asked me when we met in Venice to meet you here. How did you know then that Mercury was Milan?”
“Simple. The snakes.”
“Snakes?”
“On his caduceus.”
“His what-eus?”
He pointed to Mercury’s right arm, extended up to the sky. “What’s he doing here.”
“He’s stirring the clouds with a stick.”
“Look closer. At the rod he’s using to stir the clouds and bring the spring. Look, two snakes entwined upon the rod, poised to strike.”
“So?”
“Snakes are the symbol of the Sforza family—the rulers of Milan. Snakes are everywhere—on our armor, look”—he pointed to his breastplate—“walls, banners, tapestries. Even the seal of il Moro, which all those in his service carry so we may do his bidding without stay or prevention, depicts the Sforza serpent. See.” He held out a little plaque, fashioned from red clay, with the snake squirming atop. “Everywhere.”
The snake above the gate house as I’d entered the castle. “So the snake tells us which city. But there must be more. How about this map that we still haven’t found? There must be a clue here if only we could see it. So what else?”
“Well, how about the details now. He has got tiny flames on his cloak . . .”
“And tiny white flowers growing around his boot . . .” We were back in our old rhythm.
“Cress, crescione or Cardamine hirsuta. I saw some in the her-barium.”
“We’re missing something. What’s he trying to tell us?”
“Pisa is looking at him,” I ventured.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed.
“Really?”
“Not who is looking at him,” he clarified. “Where is he looking?”
“Up at the whatd’ye call it.”
“Caduceus. Exactly.”
“So we’re back to the snakes again. Milan. Well, we’re in Milan. The map’s in Milan. Great. It’s hopeless.” I slumped back on my straw.
There was a silence. Then, “Not hopeless,” began Brother Guido slowly. “Look. Botticelli is the model for this figure. Why? He must hold the key; he must be an important figure; he must hold the answer. And,” he added with sudden vigor, “we are so busy identifying this figure with Botticelli that we are forgetting who he represents. Mercury. The messenger of the gods. He has a message for us; we just need to divine what it is.” He scrutinized the figure again. “I think he is telling us to do what he does, see what he sees. He’s even using a pointer. He could not be clearer.”
“So we’re to look up at the clouds.” I was skeptical.
“Perhaps. No, no, wait. We are not being told to look up at the clouds. We are being told to look up at a snake. Where may we do that?” he mused.
I sat up abruptly, for I had the answer. “The gate house.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The clock tower. Of this very castle. As you come into the castle, there’s a huge stone snake, just like that”—I pointed to the caduceus—“above the gates.”
“The Torre del Filarete. You are right! I have marched beneath it every day now for a month! I have been blind!” He leaped to his feet once more, full of pent excitement, as I knew him of old.
I got up too. “Never mind all that. If we’re to look up at a snake, let’s go and do it.”
“Now?”
“The guards change every two hours. Believe me, I know. You’ve been here, what, an hour, say? Compline has just rung. We have another hour—let’s go and look!”
His blue eyes burned. “Very well. Get your cloak, and bring that mask too.”
41
The air was warmer here and I was back in the mink I had worn in Venice. The color was cousin to the night, much closer to dark than the ridiculous white bear coat I’d worn in Bolzano. I drew up the hood and followed Brother Guido, who for the sake of appearance frog-marched me with a tight grip on my upper arm, as if he were taking me prisoner, lest we be challenged. We snuck out of the tower door onto the battlements and crept along the stone walkway to the clock tower—I’d already forgotten how Brother Guido had named it. He drew me close.
“There are two guards on the gate,” he whispered. “So we cannot go down the stairs to look up, so to speak. But if we look down from above, there may still be something to see. Let us take turns. I’ll look first, for if I am seen, at least I am one of their company.” He leaned out between the battlements.