November, 1633
Curzio Inghirami had learned a great deal during his visit to Grantville, but he now was back home at Villa Scornello, the family seat. It was a few miles outside of Volterra, a town in the grand duchy of Tuscany.
He beckoned to one of the family servants. "Tell Father that Lucrezia and I are going fishing." Lucrezia, his younger sister, giggled for no apparent reason. "Have Cook pack a picnic lunch for us, and then meet us out back in half an hour."
Curzio and Lucrezia whiled away the time, gossiping about their friends in Volterra. In due course, the servant joined them, basket in hand, and the three began the half-hour walk down to the bank of the River Cecina. The two siblings fished for a while, handing each catch to the servant, then started throwing stones into the river. Curzio reached down for another, then exclaimed, "Wait a moment! Look at this!"
"Oh, it's just an old pottery shard," said Lucrezia. "Throw or drop it, but don't talk about it."
"No, wait, it has writing on it. In Etruscan, I think. And here's a Latin word: 'thesaur'-the rest of the word is lost." He thought about it for a moment. "I am sure it must be 'thesaurus.'"
"I don't think Father Domenico has taught that one to me, yet." Father Domenico Vadorini was the Anghirami family priest, and their tutor.
"It means… 'treasure.'" Their servant blinked, but said nothing.
"Treasure?" Lucrezia put her hands on her hips and stared at her older brother. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's find the rest of the vase. Perhaps the treasure is inside!" They started rummaging about.
"Here it is!" said Lucrezia triumphantly. She turned the broken vase upside-down, and shook it. What came out wasn't a treasure. At least not one which was recognizable as such. It was a lump of what looked like pitch, but with many hairs sticking out of it. "Yuck. Some treasure."
"Don't jump to conclusions, little sister," said Curzio loftily. He was six years her senior. "There might be something inside. Let's take it back up to the house and examine it more closely."
"Very well. I am tired of fishing, anyway." Curzio and Lucrezia tramped back up the hill. The servant, a respectful couple of yards behind them, carried the fish.
Once on the veranda of the family villa, Curzio threw the lump against a stone wall, and it broke apart. "Now we're getting somewhere. Look, there's a folded cloth inside. Some kind of linen. And there's writing on it. Let's go show Father."
Their father, Inghiramo Inghirami, was impressed. At least by the reference to treasure. However, the writing, some of which was in Latin, was not too informative. It suggested that the 'treasure,' whatever it might be, was located in a citadel, and that the latter was set on a hill near where the little stream, the Zambra, met the Cecina. They knew such a hill, and there were ruins of some kind there. Inghiramo told them that if they were interested, they could, on his authority, direct some of the tenant farmers to help them excavate the site.
"Hello, Curzio," said Raffaello Maffei. Raffaello was Curzio's best friend, and a noted antiquarian. "What brings you and the good Father down to town today?"
"Have a look at this." Curzio proffered the linen scroll. "I think this message might be in Etruscan."
"Come with me. We'll compare it to the inscriptions my namesake found." Raffaello led them into the Palazzo Maffei, where they could inspect the Etruscan inscriptions on a funeral stele and on a statue of a mother nurturing a child. Sure enough, the letters were similarly formed. As a frequent guest, Curzio had, of course, seen these Etruscan exemplars many times before.
"Did you find any more of these scrolls?" asked Raffaello, with the eagerness of a true scholar.
"Indeed, we did. I found this one inside a strange hairy, tarry offa." The Latin word could mean a ball of dough, or a tumor, or indeed any shapeless mass. "But we have others we haven't opened yet. I wouldn't think of doing so without the benefit of your company."
"I thank you. You have them here?"
"A few. Father Vadorini is carrying them."
Curzio, as the discoverer, was granted the honor of the first incision. He took out the new scroll, and read it. "This is astounding-read this sentence, Father."
Father Vadorini read aloud, "I am an augur, a prophet of my people. Yet it is not prophecy which compels Man, but the Great Aesar, who, when he created Man, permitted him to possess his own Will." He crossed himself.
"This is of great theological import! We know that of all the ancient peoples, none were more religious than our ancestors, the Etruscans. And we know that over the centuries, that the Lord prepared the world for the coming of the Savior by granting inspirations to learned and worthy pagans, such as Homer, and Plato, and Virgil. Here then, is proof that he moved among the nobler of the Etruscans."
His companions immediately recognized the significance of his comment. This Etruscan divine had apprehended, at an early date, one of the major teachings of the Catholic Church, and one on which the Protestants had grievously erred.
"We really need a more attractive name for these packages than offa."
Raffaello considered the problem. "Perhaps you can call it a chrysalis. That is the container from which a butterfly emerges, and these messages, at least to learned men, are as beautiful as a butterfly."
To His Grace Ferdinand de' Medici, Second of that Name, Grand Duke of Tuscany, Magnus Dux Etruriae:
As you requested, I thoroughly investigated the claims of the Inghirami family to have discovered Etruscan antiquities of great significance in the vicinity of their villa of Scornello. I have heard the testimony of Curzio and Lucrezia Inghirami, the discoverers of the first artifact, and of the manservant who accompanied them. I have also questioned the tenant farmers who carried out the further excavations, under the direction of young Curzio, of the ruined citadel overlooking the Cecina. And I have also considered the words of Father Vadorini and of the noble Raffaello Maffei.
Naturally, we have spoken to scholars. They have not reached any consensus as to the authenticity of the artifacts. However, it does not appear that there is anything in the circumstances of these discoveries that would lead one to suspect that the chrysali are not of great age. The chrysali were found within ancient pottery, or in cracks in old masonry, or even entangled within great tree roots. We have no reason to suspect that someone has attempted to deceive your Grace in terms of their provenance.
Moreover, even the critics have conceded that, according to the ancient Greek and Latin writers, the Etruscans wrote on books of linen. If the artifacts are authentic, then they are the first such Liber Lintei to be found, making this an archaeological breakthrough. It is possible that the dissenting professors are merely expressing their indignation that such a discovery has been made by someone outside the usual academic circles.
Curzio's father Inghiramo is your Salt Inspector for Volterra, and his uncle Giulio is your Postmaster General. Both have urged that this young man be appointed "Defender of Etruscan Antiquities," with certain privileges pertaining to excavation of known and suspected Etruscan sites. Such an appointment would honor Curzio's achievements and also gratify two of your most steadfast supporters.
Sincerely, your kinsman, friend and servant,
Tommaso de' Medici
Provveditore de Volterra
Curzio and Lucrezia were by their fishing spot. They were temporarily alone, having sent the servant back to the villa to fetch something. "They fell for it!" shouted Curzio and Lucrezia simultaneously, and hugged each other in delight. Lucrezia's long, dark, Etruscan hair bobbed up and down.
For Lucrezia, the whole venture was just a lark. Like most twelve year olds, she was convinced that what adults knew could be written on the head of a pin. She had happily donated her hair to the cause, and had especially enjoyed her little stage role on the day of the "discovery."
Curzio's motivations were of a more somber nature. Curzio had attempted, several years before, to persuade his father to let him study history and classics at the University of Florence, or its counterpart in Pisa. Since his formal education had been limited to weekly lessons with Father Vadorini, the faculty had been… discouraging.
In order to prove himself as a scholar, Curzio had spent many hours at the archives of Volterra. He had painstakingly written up his findings on genealogy and local history, in both Latin and Tuscan vernacular, and had sent them to professors at the two great Tuscan universities. He had fondly hoped that his essay would impress the faculty members sufficiently so that they would insist that his father allow him to become one of their number. The only one who bothered to answer had crushingly remarked that he did not have time to tutor country bumpkins in the rudiments of historical scholarship. Curzio's father urged him to forget all the nonsense about studying history and become a lawyer. Curzio was not enthusiastic about this idea.
Then Curzio had gone to Grantville. The grand duke encouraged his trusted noblemen to visit, and study, that eldritch place, and, since the plague had not fully loosened its grip on Tuscany, his father had thought it was a good idea for his heir to leave the duchy for a while.
In the up-timers' libraries, Curzio had researched his pet interest, the ancient history of Tuscany. The saga of the glorious days when the Tuscans were the Etruscans, and Rome was just a village of primitives.
Nor was Curzio the only Tuscan fascinated with the past. The Medici collected Etruscan artifacts, such as the "Etruscan Chimera," found at Arezzo in 1554, and restored by Benvenuto Cellini. They also encouraged their court to speak in "Tuscan vernacular," supposed to be descended from ancient Etruscan, rather than in Latin.
After a few months in Grantville, Curzio had a stroke of luck. One of the Americans owned the "Lost Civilizations" series of "Time-Life Books." And these included one entitled, Etruscans: Italy's Lovers of Life. While the owner wouldn't sell it, there were alternatives. Thanks to one of the English-Latin translation services which had sprung up in Grantville, Curzio had been able to obtain a complete Latin translation.
Curzio had figured that over the four centuries which separated the up-timers and the down-timers, surely the former had made some interesting finds. And they had. Unfortunately, the most important ones were located on the property of other noble families. So they would get the lion's share of the glory.
Then Curzio had his brainstorm. He would use his secretly acquired up-time knowledge to plant Etruscan artifacts in his own neighborhood. The professors would reluctantly acknowledge his achievement, and the prestige he would acquire by "discovering" the antiquities could be parlayed into a grant of general authority over archaeological sites from the grand duke. Then he would go to the other sites and uncover them.
He would then lord it over the professors who had mocked him in the past. Yes, it was a perfect plan. And the up-time books had told him what he needed to know in order to fake an Etruscan message. Such as the fact that their books were written on folded, tightly woven linen with black ink.
Summer, 1634
Lieutenant Lewis Philip Bartolli was nervous. He had never expected that his first mission outside of Grantville would be a solo one. But here he was in Florence, the capital of Tuscany. His nearest superior, Ambassador Sharon Nichols, was a good hundred miles away, in Venice.
It was amusing, actually. Lewis' parents had planned a trip to Tuscany, but then the Ring of Fire had changed everything. But thanks to that cataclysm, and the USE Army, Lewis was now in Florence nearly four hundred years ahead of schedule.
The French, the Spanish and Austrian Hapsburgs, and the USE's other foes definitely had the bigger battalions. If the USE was to win the war, it had to maintain its technological edge. In that war, the chemical industry had a vital role to play.
Trouble was, Grantville was just a small West Virginia hill town. Its technical people didn't know all the details of the important industrial chemical processes. That meant that it would have to do chemical research. And to do that research, it needed apparatus which was likewise in short supply.
If you wanted laboratory glassware, you wanted borosilicate glass. It was resistant to acids, high temperatures, and thermal shock. To make it, you needed boric acid, or one of the borate salts, such as borax.
Borax was available in seventeenth century Europe. It wasn't used to make glass, but it was used by goldsmiths as a flux, and by assayers as a reagent. It was imported, under the name "tincal," from Tibet. The Venetians held a monopoly on it and charged dearly for it, around three hundred thousand New U.S. dollars to the ton.
The Grantville encylopedias had revealed that, in 1777, boric acid had been discovered in the Maremma of Tuscany. During the nineteenth century, until large deposits had been found in the American West, Tuscany had been the world's chief supplier of boron compounds. An up-time picture book of Tuscany, owned by one of Grantville's many Italian-Americans, had directed the USE's attention to the town of Larderello, founded by Francesco de Larderel in 1827 to exploit the local boric acid.
Lewis' scientific training and linguistic skills had made him the ideal candidate for his current assignment. After his accelerated graduation from high school, he had enlisted in the Army, and was assigned to the Military Research Group. Joining the military didn't keep him out of school for long; they sent him right back to the high school. There, he served as a teaching assistant, and received advanced training in chemistry.
There were only so many young men in Grantville who had chemical laboratory experience… and Lewis had grown up speaking Italian. Picked up Latin pretty quickly, too. So he was the logical choice, despite his age.
The plan, as devised in Grantville, was that Lewis would test Tuscan waters for boric acid. He would start in Larderello, and then move to the other sites mentioned in the up-time books. Once he identified the most promising locations, the Cavriani office in Florence would acquire the mineral rights and hire the workers and foreman. Lewis would then, somehow, figure out how to get the production process up-and-running. While a method of recovering boric acid had been described in the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica, Lewis was sure that he would have to improvise.
Lewis was welcomed to the Tuscan city of Florence by Niccolo and Lorenzo Cavriani. Niccolo Cavriani was the capo of the Cavriani Brothers branch office in Florence, and Lorenzo was his son. The Cavrianis were the USE's informal commercial agents in Italy.
After taking precautions to make sure that there were no eavesdroppers, Niccolo began briefing Lewis on the political situation. "Grand Duke Ferdinand II de Medici is only twenty-four years old, and has been ruling Tuscany for only the last seven years. Before then, his mother and grandmother were co-regents.
"Ferdinand's mother was Maria Magdalena, who died in 1631. That is probably just as well; the Austrians have enough influence in the Tuscan court as it is."
"What was her connection to the Habsburgs?"
"She was the Holy Roman Emperor's sister. After Breitenfeld, she persuaded her son to send a Tuscan contingent to join the imperial army. He promised six thousand soldiers, under the command of two of his brothers. He thought better of it, but allowed Francesco and Mattias to serve as volunteer officers. They are somewhere in Germany now."
"So Tuscany is an Austrian ally?"
"Nominally, at least. More in the hope that the imperials will support their designs on Elba, Urbino, and Piombino, than out of any deep-seated enthusiasm for the imperial cause."
"Does that mean that my venture is doomed from the start?"
Niccolo looked shocked. "Oh, no! Trading with the enemy is a time-honored custom in Europe. Indeed, the war in the Netherlands would not exist without it. When the Spanish merchants enter Dutch ports, they pay special charges, which go to the Dutch admiralties to pay for their warships. And then the Dutch turn around and sell grain, naval stores and even weapons to the Spanish, allowing the war to continue."
Lorenzo spoke up. "And the USE does have the advantage that it is not, strictly speaking, a Protestant state. You even have a Cardinal-Protector!"
"And the Medici are very much interested in trade. Nonetheless," his father continued, "it is premature for the grand duke to accept an embassy from the USE. This isn't Venice! In order to maintain appearances, when you deal with the grand duke, you will do so as the representative of an American company."
"Universal Imports and Exports," Lewis confirmed.
"We, in turn, will hint to the ministers that this company has a quasi-official character, like the Dutch East India Company. That way, you are much more likely to be granted a private audience with Ferdinand. Yet he may plausibly deny that he is treating officially with the USE."
"Why do I need to see Ferdinand at all? Why can't we just go to the mining region and talk to the local landowners?" asked Lewis.
"The state-meaning Grand Duke Ferdinand-controls all of the rights to extract minerals," said Lorenzo. "Usually it rents them out, but we might be able to negotiate a different arrangement since this venture is so speculative. Not like extracting iron, or copper, or mercury from one of the well-established sources in the Colline Metallifere.
"Now, where exactly is this Larderello you spoke of?"
Lewis took a map case out of his backpack. He opened it up and unrolled the map. Lorenzo helpfully pulled a few books off the shelves of the Cavriani study and strategically placed them at the corners, so the map would remain flat.
"Here!" said Lewis. He pointed to an area south of the town of Volterra.
"Hmm," said Niccolo. That is in what we call the Valle del Diavolo ."
"And why is it called the Devil's Valley?"
"It is a most uncanny place," Niccolo said. "White vapors rise out of holes in the ground, the soffioni. Occasionally, steam gushes out, in great geysers." He sipped some wine. "Even when the soffioni are silent, the water bubbles in the lagone, the hot springs." To Lewis, the terrain sounded much like that of Yellowstone National Park. Minus the grizzlies.
Niccolo leaned back in his chair. "It is thought that one of the circles of Dante's Inferno is based on the Valle del Diavolo. It is a most uninviting place. Still, you are better off there than in the lowlands, the true Maremma." Lewis understood. The up-time encyclopedias had made it clear that on the coast and in the river valleys, malaria was rampant.
"So, how do we proceed?" Lewis asked.
"I will present you to the grand duke," Niccolo explained. "Once we obtain his blessing on the project, my son Lorenzo will escort you, first to Volterra, and then on to the Devil's Valley. He will do whatever on-the-spot 'facilitating' is needful."
"If we are successful, Larderello will come into being three hundred years ahead of schedule." Niccolo smiled. "It will have another name, of course. Bartollello? Ferdinello?"
Lewis was somewhat surprised by how quickly they received an invitation to the palazzo. Niccolo Cavriani told him that Grand Duke Ferdinand was known to be very curious about Grantville, for both political and intellectual reasons. Ferdinand had encouraged his more trusted citizens to visit Grantville as tourists and bring back reports. Spies on the cheap, you might say. However, he was probably tired of hearing secondhand accounts, and anxious to meet one of the mysterious up-timers in person.
The machinations of Niccolo Cavriani had no doubt helped, too. The Cavrianis liked to call themselves "facilitators." Lewis preferred the earthier term: "fixers."
The grand duke asked about Lewis' studies. Ferdinand was something of a scientist himself, with a well-equipped laboratory, and therefore was very interested in the science of Grantville.
Somehow, the conversation turned to Sherlock Holmes, Lewis' favorite literary character. Ferdinand asked many questions about Sherlock Holmes' feats of deduction, and seemed quite impressed by them.
Lewis knew certain parts of the Holmes canon by heart. "So Inspector Gregory asked Holmes, 'Is there any other point to which you would wish to draw my attention?' And Holmes replied, 'To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.'
"Gregory had no idea what Holmes was driving at. He said, 'The dog did nothing in the night-time.'"
"Can you guess what Holmes said next?" Lewis asked.
Ferdinand shook his head.
"' That was the curious incident,'" Lewis quoted triumphantly.
Ferdinand acknowledged Holmes' insight. "Ah. The dog knew the criminal."
Cavriani then brought up the purpose of their visit to Tuscany. He explained that according to their up-time books, Tuscany had become a great producer of boric acid, and that it could be used to make tincal available to Europe at a much lower price than had been the case, breaking the Venetian monopoly. Historically, this had been much to the financial advantage of Tuscany.
This was of great interest to Ferdinand. Tuscany was in economic distress. Florence had gone through a depression in the 1620's. Then the plague had hit in 1630, and only departed, carrying the souls of one-tenth the population with it, in 1633.
The Cavrianis proposed to set up a new company, jointly owned by Universal and by the Medicis. Universal would supply the expertise and starting capital, Ferdinand, the mineral rights. The USE would be guaranteed the right to buy a certain portion of the output at cost plus a fixed percentage, and the company could sell the rest at whatever price the market would bear.
The key point was that the new company had to have exclusive boron compound collection rights for the entire duchy. Otherwise, once Lewis started operations in Larderello, competitors would spring up everywhere there was a suitable fumarole or hot spring.
Ferdinand told them that he was favorably impressed by their proposal, but would need to consult with his advisors. In the meantime, he would have one of his aides give Lewis the grand tour.
"I shall draw a fiery finger across the lands of the Turingii; a circle of fire I shall draw there. Let all beware the power of the Great Aesar."
– translated by Curzio Inghirami from the Latin inscription in Etruscan artifact number four.
Lewis and the Cavrianis were invited back to Ferdinand's palazzo for further discussions. Ferdinand agreed to give them a permit to travel wherever they wished in the Devil's Valley, and take samples for analysis. The financial arrangements would be negotiated once Lewis had a better idea of where the boric acid was located.
When they finished discussing the boric acid project, Ferdinand asked Lewis more questions about Sherlock Holmes. After the audience ended, Lewis was not entirely sure whether the grand duke had truly appreciated that Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character. Or that it had merely been Lewis' intent, after college, to go into forensic science. Lewis had said so, of course. But he kept wondering about a remark Ferdinand had made just before they parted. Something about how he was pleased that one of Sherlock Holmes' disciples had come to Tuscany.
"What do you know about the Etruscans, Lewis?" asked Niccolo. He didn't sound happy.
"They were here in Italy before the Romans. That's all I know." Lewis was only half paying attention to Niccolo. He was applying tincture of turmeric, a down-time spice and dye, to strips of paper. Turmeric changes color when exposed to boric acid.
"Well, it appears that you are going to learn a lot more."
Lewis stopped playing with his indicator strips and looked squarely at Niccolo.
"One Curzio Inghirami, a nobleman of Volterra, found a linen scroll, with both Latin and Etruscan writing, supposedly inscribed by an ancient soothsayer. And this Curzio is from a very influential family in Tuscany, and thus has the ear of the grand duke."
"How does this affect us?" asked Lewis, spreading his hands to emphasize his bewilderment.
"The Provedditore of Volterra was asked to issue a decree that the artifact was authentic, and he promptly deferred to his superior. The case went up the ladder until it reached Grand Duke Ferdinand, and he remembered all the feats of detection which you regaled him with.
"He would like to appoint Curzio as 'Defender of Etruscan Antiquities,' thereby pleasing the Inghirami family. But he is nervous. If the messages are formally pronounced authentic, but later proven fraudulent, it will reflect badly on him.
"Ever since Curzio published his initial findings, there have been escalating attacks on his work from scholars outside Tuscany. So Ferdinand is vacillating on the issue of authenticity." Niccolo sighed.
"He intends to appoint you as 'Consulting Detective to the Grand Duchy of Tuscany,' and instruct you to determine whether there is any cause to deny the requested decree."
Lewis groaned. "Can't I refuse?"
"Sure. If you want to antagonize the one person in Tuscany who can grant us the right to collect boric acid."
"All right, all right. I'll do it. Although it will take time away from our boric acid prospecting."
"It will do more than that. The only reason for bringing you into the matter is to satisfy the scholars who have cried 'foul.' The Inghirami will see you as being the leader of the opposition, out to prove that Curzio is a fool or a fraud. The Inghirami are one of the principal families of Volterra, and they can make life very difficult for us."
"Why does the duke care about these artifacts?" Lewis put the prepared strips into a vial, stoppered it, and packed it away.
"There are several reasons. First, the Medici united the provinces of Arezzo, Florence, Grosseto, Livorno, Massa, Carrara, Pisa, and Siena. Some of their subjects would rather be independent. Since those provinces were one country, or at least a close confederation, during the Etruscan period, the Medici encourage study of the Etruscans. They think it helps justify their own hegemony.
"Also, Ferdinand is a very religious man, and therefore deeply interested in the prophecies which they make."
"Prophecies?"
"Yes, in Latin. Prophecies of many great events, from the birth of Jesus to the Ring of Fire."
"The Ring of Fire? You must be joking. Curzio must be perpetrating a hoax."
"Because of the prophecy?"
"Yes, of course!"
Niccolo looked away. "My colleague in Venice warned me that you up-timers, even the Catholics among you, have a very different view of religion than we do. I can't think of anyone I know, noble or commoner, who would question the possibility that the Ring of Fire could be prophesied. The only point of doubt would be whether it would be foreseen by an Etruscan rather than by one of the Hebrew or Christian priests."
"Well, is there any other evidence of a hoax?"
Lorenzo spoke up. "There is apparently some literary evidence. The Inghirami family has threatened or bribed some of the 'unbelievers,' but they haven't been able to quiet all of the opposition. Still, if no new evidence is presented, they are likely to prevail."
"What do you suggest I do?"
Niccolo smiled. "The safest course of action would be to declare the artifacts to be authentic, and head on to Devil's Valley with the goodwill of the Inghiramis."
"I can't do that. If he is exposed by someone else, then I look like an idiot for having publicly accepted his story! He might even confess voluntarily, so he could brag about having fooled the so-knowledgeable Americans."
"So what would your Sherlock do, in these circumstances?"
"Your Grace, in order to perform this task, I will need a certain amount of assistance that only you can provide. First of all, I will need to inspect as many as possible of the texts which have already been 'found' by Curzio. And also whatever is left of the material they were packaged in."
Ferdinand nodded. "There are a few chrysali which have been entrusted to me, and you may have free access to them. The others are with Signore Inghirami, in Volterra. I can give you a letter requesting that he treat you as an investigating officer."
"I would also ask that you advise Signore Inghirami that it is your special request that if any of the chrysali remain unopened, or if any new ones be found, that they be sent to you, that you may be the first to open them."
Ferdinand narrowed his eyes. "He will consent to this, but he may reasonably ask that they be opened in his presence, lest he be denied his proper share of the glory in the discovery."
Lewis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I can live with that-but it is extremely important that you obtain these unopened capsules before he is aware that they are to be subjected to special examination by me. Indeed, I would ask that you obtain them before you make public that appointment."
After giving the matter a moment's thought, Ferdinand said, "Very well."
"I will need to have access to as many unquestioned Etruscan inscriptions as possible, and I will need the cooperation of scholars who can tell me what the Greek and Latin authorities say about the linen, ink, writing implements, and history of the Etruscans."
"The curator of my collection will show you what I own, and I will give you a letter of introduction to the faculties of the Universities of Pisa and Florence."
Lewis studied Ferdinand's expression. Could he get away with another request? Yes, perhaps. "Finally, I will need a fully equipped laboratory."
"You are fortunate, because the members of my family have been interested in alchemy and optics for several generations. We have everything you could possibly desire."
Except equipment for radiocarbon dating, thought Lewis wryly.
Lewis had been unable to identify any forensically useful characteristics of the tar, the hairs, or the linen.
The ink. What had he read about inks? Yes, the first inks were carbon-based. Then, in the Middle Ages, Europeans switched to iron gall inks. Curzio almost certainly used an iron gall ink. Given time, it would fade from black to brown. It would also contain iron, which could perhaps be detected chemically. And the gallic acid in the ink would eat at the fibers, and that might be visible under a magnifying glass. Or a perhaps a microscope. Did Grand Duke Ferdinand have one in his laboratory?
Lewis approached the curator of the Uffizi, where the museum, library and laboratory were housed. "I will need access to the grand duke's chemicals."
"That is not a problem."
"Great! I just wish I had a microscope."
"A 'microscope'? I am not familiar with that term."
"It makes small things look larger." Lewis whipped out his magnifying glass, and demonstrated.
"Oh. We have one made by Zacharias Janssen for the duke's father. It has two tubes, one of which slides, and two lenses, one at each end."
"We call that a compound microscope."
"And we also have a more powerful one, built by Galileo. It magnifies, oh, perhaps twenty times. Would you like to use that one?"
In the grand duchy, Galileo was a hero. Lewis was well aware that an endorsement from him would be helpful. Lewis, after all, was an unknown. The Cavrianis made inquiries on his behalf, but the results were disappointing.
"Don't expect any help from Galileo," said Niccolo.
"Why not? Surely a genius like him, known for his skepticism, would question Curzio's storytelling."
"Galileo is known for more than his genius. His ego, for example. Let me read to you from another of Curzio's Etruscan revelations: 'One of great mind shall come, the like of which the world has never known before, out of Etruria reborn. He shall place ears on Saturn. He shall find the four lost children of Jove. Everlasting will be his glory.'"
"I suppose the children are the four Galilean moons. But ears? Oh-that must be how the rings look in a telescope with bad optics. But what does 'out of Etruria reborn' mean?"
"Etruria was the name given to the land of the Etruscans. And Galileo was born in Pisa, which was once an Etruscan city. But do you see my point? Galileo isn't likely to be critical of a prophecy which praises him so plainly."
"Even though one could argue that it was more likely written after his discovery than seventeen hundred years before it?"
"Even so."
The librarian showed Lewis recipes for the two types of ink, and Lewis whipped up a batch of each. Cavriani had fetched him several samples of linen cloth, chosen to match, as closely as possible, the appearance of Curzio's specimens. Lewis dipped one quill into the first ink and wrote with it. Then, with a second quill, he wrote with the other ink. He labeled his handiwork, and continued.
Lewis didn't remember the standard forensic tests for inks. But he had plenty of chemicals to experiment with, including weak and strong acids and alkalis. He found that the acids bleached or eliminated the galled ink writing, while the sodium hydroxide changed the color to a dark red.
So now all he needed was to persuade the grand duke to let him surreptitiously carry out some chemical tests on the Etruscan artifacts sent by Curzio. That shouldn't be difficult, given Ferdinand's interest in science. In fact, Lewis suspected that he would be the first American to have a duke as a lab assistant.
Lewis returned to his studies. After some minutes, the curator came up behind him. "Dottore. We have an unpublished manuscript which you should read."
"What is its name?"
" De Etruria Regali Libri Septum. Or, in English, Seven Books on Etruria of the Kings. It was written by Thomas Dempster, a professor at the University of Pisa, at the request of Cosimo II de' Medici. It analyzes all of the references to the Etruscans in Greek and Roman literature. It even presents a small Etruscan vocabulary."
"Wonderful. Oh. Can you also provide me with access to the laboratory? I will need to carry out some alchemical operations."
"That will not be a problem."
Lord Bailiff Andrea Cioli called for silence. "This proceeding is convened by the order of His Grace Ferdinand the Second, Grand Duke of Tuscany, to determine whether certain artifacts, discovered by Curzio Inghirami and various persons working under his supervision, are to be receive a writ of authenticity from the Mother Church."
The first witnesses were men whose interest was in classical literature. They knew Latin and the history of Rome; they had studied the Etruscan inscriptions on stone and metal, and had tried to make sense of them.
The strongest points in Curzio's favor were that he was a nobleman with an unblemished reputation, the chrysali he found had been found in an area known to possess Etruscan remains, and, most of all, the messages were written on linen cloth, as only classical scholars would have expected.
Still, the courtroom discussion was heated. The learned scholars of Pisa insisted that the tales told in Latin by Curzio's Etruscan were inconsistent with the histories of Livy and other Roman authors. Their colleagues of Florence told the court that it was a mistake to assume that the Roman version of the early history of Italy was accurate or complete. "Now we are hearing the Etruscan point of view," they explained. Pisa and Florence had been traditional enemies for centuries; their ancient enmities had reasserted themselves in this courtroom.
The professori of Pisa also declared that the Latin used by this supposed Etruscan was of an inferior quality, at odds with the high priestly position he claimed. They denounced the writing as that of a schoolboy. No one missed the implication that it could be that of a modern schoolboy, like Curzio.
The Florentines, on the other hand, argued that one could not expect a leader of the Etruscan people, chafing under Roman rule, to write Latin as if he were a Roman patrician. They excused all mistakes as being those of a foreigner, albeit one having some dealings with Rome.
Then there was the controversy concerning the way in which the inscriptions were written. It was accepted by all scholars that the Latin alphabet evolved from the Etruscan one. Certain of the Latin letters look different when flipped to face backward. There were Etruscan counterparts to the Latin letters C, E, F, K, and L, but they all faced backwards on almost every known Etruscan writing… save for Curzio's.
Moreover, a few of the inscriptions provided several lines of text. These were aligned on the right side, but had a ragged left margin. In contrast, in the text provided by Signore Anghirami, the reverse was true.
For these two reasons, the Pisans argued that Etruscan inscriptions were clearly written from right to left, and Curzio's weren't.
Still, there were instances, although rare, in which indisputably authentic Etruscan text was written from left to right. And that gave Curzio's defenders an out.
Eventually, it was Lewis' turn to speak. "I am Lewis Bartolli, consulting detective and citizen of Grantville. I have been appointed by the grand duke to investigate the artifacts in question.
"If the writings are taken at face value, they were authored by an Etruscan more than seventeen hundred years ago. If that be true, then there will be certain alchemical signs of the age of the writing. Signs which natural philosophy, as taught in Grantville, can reveal, whether to praise or damn.
"I would like to direct the attention of this court to the ink used on these artifacts. I have consulted with the professors of Tuscany, and hence have determined that the inks of the ancients were described by Pliny the Younger, Vitruvius, and other authorities. The principal one was made from soot mixed with water and gum, and I have prepared a duplicate of it.
"The black ink in common use today is made according to a recipe which your schoolchildren learn as a rhyme: Una due tre e trenta / A far la bona tenta. It means one part of gum arabic, two of green vitriol, and three of galls in thirty parts of water. The galls are soaked in rainwater to liberate what we call tannic and gallic acids. They react with the green vitriol, which in Grantville is called iron sulfate, to form the dark iron tannate and gallate. I have prepared this galled ink, as well.
"I wrote with both inks, using a quill pen, on both paper and linen. I then had to find a way of differentiating the two. I experimented with different reagents, and found several which caused a change in color in the modern ink, but affected the ancient one not at all." Lewis demonstrated that this was the case.
"So, there is clearly a detectable chemical difference between the two kinds of ink.
"Now, I can carry out the same tests, only with the inks on the linen messages brought to us by Signore Inghirami."
Curzio was quick to complain. "I must object, Your Grace. These are priceless artifacts. They could be damaged irretrievably by this foreigner's chemicals."
Ferdinand was unimpressed. "I fully appreciate your position, Signore Inghirami. However, it is you who have to come to us for a decree of authenticity. Either you must consent to such tests as we authorize, or you must withdraw your request."
Curzio conferred hurriedly with his supporters. "We withdraw the objection." Ferdinand motioned to Lewis to continue with his alchemical operations. He took out one of the fabrics, read out for the record the text which he was going to treat chemically, and with what, and proceeded accordingly. He then displayed the results triumphantly.
"As you can see, Your Grace, the behavior of the ink on this linen is that which would be expected of the iron-based modern ink, not the Plinian one."
Curzio turned to one of the people behind him, dressed in the formal robes of a member of the faculty of the University of Florence. They whispered to each other, and then Curzio addressed his ruler. "Most wise grand duke, Pliny the Younger has described several inks which were in common use by the Romans his day. However, that does not mean that his list was exhaustive. I am told that he actually described an experiment in which he soaked papyrus in an infusion of galls, and showed that it was blackened by vitriol."
Lewis bristled. "If he knew that it blackened paper, and still did not list it in his chapter on inks, then surely that means that no one in his day used it for that purpose. It was merely a curiosity."
"But what was a mere curiosity in his day might have been a standard ink of the Etruscans." Curzio paused. "Please assume, for the sake of argument, that this was the case. Would you then have any reason to doubt the authenticity of the chrysali?" Curzio beamed triumphantly at his buddies in the courtroom. For someone who professed to have no interest in law, he certainly seemed to enjoy playing lawyer.
Lewis gave Curzio a long stare. "Yes, I would." He turned to face the grand duke. "I have been asked to assume that the ink used by the Etruscans was the gall-green vitriol ink with which we are all familiar. It is only in this way that the Inghiramis can explain the chemical behavior of the supposedly Etruscan ink.
"But let us now consider the physical characteristics of the two types of inks. If it is a carbon-based ink, then the black matter of the ancient ink remains on the surface, where it can readily be scraped off. Indeed, that is why you can use ancient manuscripts as palimpsests.
"On the other hand, if it is a gall-based ink, then that is not so easy. The acid from the galls bites into the paper, carrying the black matter with it. Hence, after sufficient passage of time, the writing cannot be readily removed. That is why this ink is preferred for official documents.
"So, let us make trial of the ink on the first message exhibited by Curzio, as it is known to been on the cloth for several months." Lewis took out a knife, and scraped at the linen.
"Aha! It does not come out easily. But let me do the same to the samples I prepared before. Examine the scraped areas with the magnifying glass, and it is manifestly evident. Curzio's ink penetrated deeply, like a modern galled ink, and unlike an ancient ink formed from soot.
"But, wait! I was instructed to assume arguendo that the Etruscans had a ink made from green vitriol and galls. That assumption leads us down a path which Curzio would have been wiser to leave unthought of.
"One unfortunate problem with these galled inks is that, because of their acidic nature, they corrode away the writing surface. I have ascertained experimentally that linen fabric is just as vulnerable to acid damage as is rag paper. The curator of the collection here has shown me rag-paper manuscripts which were a mere four hundred years old, and in which the ink had chewed its way entirely through the leaf, leaving a hole. Only inked portions of the paper were so affected.
"I was also shown a map, perhaps two centuries old, which was folded so that the heavily inked compass rose was brought into contact with an area which originally was blank. The vitriol from the rose left a scorch mark on the latter.
"But the young gentleman would have us believe that a linen could be written upon with a galled ink sixteen hundred years ago, yet show not a iota of damage. This is beyond belief."
Curzio was not ready to concede that the ink could not be Etruscan. "The papers were not exposed to the elements, but rather were sealed within a protective bubble of tar. Perhaps that curbed the acid."
Lewis had anticipated this argument. Indeed, he suspected that Curzio, when "designing" the chrysalis, had used the tar specifically in order to provide a ready excuse for the survival and fine state of preservation of the "Etruscan" writings.
"The tar would have protected the cloth from the air, and thus from normal aging. But the acid was already on the cloth, brought in by the ink, and it did not require air to function. Indeed, alchemists will acidify materials inside a hermetically-sealed retort. I have placed flax fibers inside a stoppered test tube and demonstrated that they are attacked by acid."
Murmur, murmur. Curzio turned to speak quietly with one of the scholars hired by his family. Finally, he came out of this huddle and said, "we believe you mentioned that the soot-based ink was the principal one used in ancient times. However, that implies that there were other inks. My venerable colleague here informs me that one such ink was that of the cuttlefish, in Latin, sepia. Have you tested that ink?"
"No, but if I am provided with the cuttlefish, and shown how to remove the ink sac and extract the ink, then I will test that sepia ink in the same way that I did the carbon ink." Obviously, Lewis didn't trust Curzio not to tamper with the sample.
Curzio coughed. "Is it not possible that the Etruscan scribe wrote with an iron stylus, rather than a quill or reed? If so, could there not have been an alchemical contagion of the ink with the qualities of the stylus? Could your reagents, then, have been quivering in sympathy with that accidental iron, rather than with green vitriol in the ink proper?"
Lewis bit his lip. "An iron stylus is hard; very few atoms of iron would be released into the ink and fabric. The color change I observed was too pronounced to be the result of that trivial sort of contamination."
"But since you did not carry out your test with an iron stylus, you don't know that."
"I can modify the test and find out."
"But are there not other problems? We know from Pliny's Historia Naturalis that some ink was made from charring bones which once lay in the earth. Who knows what metals could have been absorbed before these bones were converted into ash? Or whether the presence of those metals could have affected the alchemical properties of an ink made from that ash?" Curzio spread his hands, as if to emphasize the vast number of possibilities still untested by Lewis.
"Proving a negative is very difficult," said Lewis drily. "But it is your burden to prove to us that these artifacts are authentic, and I don't think you have succeeded.
"Indeed, let us look us look closely at this Etruscan of yours. He is a high-ranking priest, living at a time when the Etruscans were Roman subjects, yet he speaks Latin like a schoolboy. He also has trouble remembering his history lessons.
"He demonstrates his individuality by writing Etruscan from left to right, as if he were Roman, or Tuscan, rather than in the traditional Etruscan direction.
"According to my chemical tests, his ink is of the modern kind, which contains iron and acid, yet the linen is undamaged by the vitriol. To explain this, Curzio first suggests that the Etruscans had in fact used galls and green vitriol to make ink. When I showed that a modern ink, over the course of nineteen hundred years, would eat great holes in the linen, Curzio changed his tune.
"The ink was of an ancient kind, after all, but the iron was imparted by the Etruscan's iron-tipped pen or by some iron implement lying in the earth.
"So have these mysterious Etruscan iron-tipped pens been referred to by the Roman and Greek authors? Have any been found by other excavators? And how could iron in the soil have affected chrysali which weren't actually buried?"
Lewis turned to face Curzio directly. "So, Signore Inghirami. In view of the evidence presented, are you willing to concede the possibility that you have been deceived by some forger, and withdraw your request for a decree of authenticity?"
Curzio conferred with his family. "The evidence you have presented is inconclusive. It is insufficient basis for overturning the finding of the Provedditore of Volterra, Tommasso de Medici." Bit of name-dropping there, thought Lewis.
Lewis approached Fredinand. "As your consulting detective, I would like to discuss with you privately as to how best to proceed from here." Ferdinand nodded.
"It is already late in the day," declared the grand duke. "We will recess until tomorrow." The crowd filed out of the courtroom.
Lewis was closeted with Ferdinand. "Do you presently think these artifacts are authentic?"
"I am not sure what to think. You have built a strong case against them," Ferdinand admitted. "And if they are false, then Curzio would be the most likely culprit. It could not be one of the tenant farmers; they wouldn't know how to write Latin and they wouldn't know about the Etruscans' linen books. It couldn't have been a stranger; his presence would have been noted, sooner or later. And it could not have been buried many years ago by one of Curzio's ancestors, as they would not have known of the Ring of Fire.
"Still, it is difficult for me to believe that Curzio Inghirami, a young gentleman of a distinguished family, would stoop to forging an antiquity."
"Perhaps it was a beffa, a practical joke, which got out of hand," Lewis suggested.
Ferdinand winced. "I have only ruled Tuscany for five years. Inghiramo and Giulio are Knights of the Order of Saint Stephen, and Giulio is one of the more influential nobles in my realm. They cannot, without losing honor, admit that a member of their family, whose cause they have strongly espoused, is a forger. And thus far they are unwilling to even concede that Curzio has been deceived. What would your Sherlock Holmes do?"
Lewis mulled over the many Holmes stories he had read over the years. There was A Scandal in Bohemia. And The Norwood Builder. Both times, Holmes used a false threat to panic a criminal into doing something unwise.
Could Lewis bluff the Inghiramis into accepting the lesser offense of having been deceived by person or persons unknown? Curzio didn't know what up-time forensic science could do, or which of its tools Lewis could duplicate here and now. Or did he? Since coming to Volterra, Lewis had heard rumors that Curzio had visited Grantville.
Of course, it was not enough just to claim, say, that up-timers could date the linen. Mere words would not be enough. There had to be a dramatic demonstration of some kind, so the Ighiramis could visualize how the courtroom scene would play out in the end.
When Lewis explained what he had in mind, Ferdinand was delighted. Lewis went off to collect the necessary materials, and then sat down with Ferdinand to prepare the first part of the "demonstration."
The next morning, Lewis told the court about a new way to test the authenticity of the Inghirami artifacts. "In 1686, 'old time line,' your fellow Italian, Marcello Malpighi, reported that on our fingers, we have minute ridges and valleys which form distinct patterns. He recognized three basic configurations which we now call ridges, spirals and loops." Lewis paused for a moment, wondering whether Malpighi had been born before the Ring of Fire had changed the flow of time and, if so, what he would do with his talents in the new world which it had created.
"Hundreds of years later, it was recognized that, if these patterns are examined closely enough, they are distinctive to a particular individual. Even identical twins have different patterns.
"Now, it turns out that when we touch something with our fingers, our sweat leaves an impression of those ridges. The resulting fingerprint may be obvious, as when a dying man, his hand covered in blood, touches a wall, or it may be cryptic. Up-time police forces have found that with certain powders or vapors, they can render a latent fingerprint visible. I am prepared to offer proof of this, should this court desire it.
"Fingerprint evidence was routinely accepted in up-time courts, throughout the world, as proof of identity. Or lack of identity."
Curzio rose to his feet. "Setting aside the alleged practices of the future, this evidence has never been accepted as proof by the most Holy Church, or by any prince of this world. Is that not true?"
"Actually, I would direct the learned nobleman to the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, which says, 'The salutation of Paul with mine own hand, which is the token in every epistle: so I write.' That is a clear reference to the use of an entire hand print for identification. There are patterns on the palm, not just the fingers. The Book of Job says, 'He sealeth up the hand of every man; that all men may know his work.' That means that men can know each other just by properly examining their hands.
"I have also read, admittedly in up-time books, that the Chinese emperors have used fingerprints for identification purposes for a thousand years."
"Very well, but I don't see the relevance of fingerprints to this proceeding."
"It is implicit in this proceeding that there is a possibility that the artifacts, rather than being Etruscan, are a fabrication. If they are a fabrication, they must have been created by a person, or group of persons, who can write Latin, has seen some Etruscan inscriptions, and has access to sites where the artifacts were found. Moreover, the fourth artifact must have been created after the Ring of Fire, in 1631.
"Conceivably, that person is a stranger. But in our quest to determine the truth, we must entertain the possibility that he or she is a member of the Inghirami household, or of one of their tenant families. Consequently, I intend to take the fingerprints of every one of these individuals and compare them to the fingerprints on the Etruscan writings."
"But of course we have fingerprints on the cloths!" Curzio exploded. "I broke open the chrysali; I held the ancient writings in my hands. I gave them to my father, and Father Valdorini, and my friend Raffaelo, to hold and study. Many others, even perhaps the grand duke himself, have done the same."
"That is true for most of the chrysali. But there were several which you were kind enough to offer to the grand duke so that he could open himself. The contents of those chrysali will bear the fingerprints only of your Etruscan. Or, if they are false, the hoaxer.
"His Grace magnanimously offered to set an example by letting me take his prints. So, too, did Niccolo and Lorenzo Cavriani."
Ferdinand recognized his cue. "All three were different in some way. Even though the Cavrianis are father and son."
"I will then take the prints of every individual known to us who could possibly have participated in the hoax. From the Inghiramis down to the meanest laborer." What Lewis didn't tell them was that the art of classifying fingerprints required great skill and experience, in order to find all the distinguishing minutiae. Skill and experience which Lewis didn't have.
"Once this information has been collected, and I have classified the prints according to their patterns, I propose to have His Grace slice open those virgin chrysali. He and I will, together, examine with a magnifying glass the fingerprints found on the sticky inner surface of the tarry container, as well as those on the linen itself. It is finely woven, so that it can be written on, which means that it is more likely than a coarse fabric to bear a clean impression."
This was the most delicate point, Lewis knew. It was in fact extremely difficult to detect a latent impression on fabric. Prior to the hearing, Lewis had experimented with various powders, unsuccessfully. He could sometimes develop a latent print on linen by placing it in a container with iodine crystals, laboriously extracted from seaweed. The crystals sublimated, and the vapor then marked the print. But it was very hit-and-miss.
"We will then compare them to the fingerprint file. If there is a matching set of prints, then we will know definitively, who the hoaxer is. And if the prints on the artifacts do not match the prints taken, then we know that those people were not hoaxers."
"And if there are no prints to be found on the artifacts? Or they are too indistinct to be useful?"
"Then we have lost nothing but time."
Ferdinand rose. Everyone in the hearing room did the same. "I think this is too great a matter to be resolved in the little time remaining to us today. We will recess until tomorrow morning." Lewis, Niccolo and Lorenzo left the hearing room.
"Uncle, we need to talk privately." Giulio Inghirami raised his eyebrows, but agreed. Once they had found a suitable place, and barred the door behind them, he motioned to Curzio to continue.
"Do you remember that boating accident I had, about five years ago?"
"Vaguely. What of it?"
"My thumb was cut badly. I still bear the scar."
"And so?"
"I fear that the scar would be visible in my thumb print. It would be quite distinctive, would it not?"
"All the better for proving that you did not forge the Etruscan documents." Uncle Giulio frowned. "Unless, of course, the thumb print of the Etruscan has the same scar."
Curzio said nothing.
"Curzio, you idiot, what have you done to us!"
Curzio slumped. "I meant well, uncle. I thought that since the cause of the Church was just, that it would not be sinful to create a false Etruscan artifact which would serve the greater cause of supporting it in its struggle with the Protestants.
"Also, I found descriptions of truly great Etruscan remains in the books in Grantville."
"You should have studied less history and more natural philosophy, it seems."
Curzio shrugged off this dig. "Those remains, unfortunately, were not on our land. The only way I could hope to get access to them was to first be accepted as the authority on all matters Etruscan. And for that to happen, I had to make a dramatic find. I was on the horns of a dilemma."
"How noble of you to tell a little lie for the greater good of the Church and your ruler. Rather than, say, to show up the professori who had a low opinion of your academic abilities." Guilio sighed. "It is going to be very difficult to extricate ourselves from this imbroglio with our honor intact. And that is going to depend very much on what Lewis Bartolli will agree to."
"Do you think he can be bribed to accept the authenticity of the artifacts?"
"No. Too much of his own prestige is now invested in challenging them. But we may be able to persuade him to take you off the hook. He is interested in the soffioni south of Volterra, I have heard. I will make sure that he knows how much we can help or hurt him in that regard."
Andrea Cioli addressed the assembly. "I put it to this court that the nobleman Curzio Inghirami has been the innocent victim of a vile deception, practiced by another. A person of his tender age could not, of course, have been expected to recognize the artifacts as fraudulent, and because he was himself beyond reproach, those who considered the artifacts later did not given them as thorough an examination as they would have had they come by a different channel. None, then, is to blame, but the true forger."
"And can you put a name to this forger?" Ferdinand asked.
The councilor turned to Lewis. "Lewis Bartolli. Are you presently aware of any evidence which would suggest that the forger was one other than the vile and despicable Michel Ducos?" The question had been most carefully worded.
Lewis fought to keep a straight face. "No."
Cioli turned to the grand duke. "As I am sure you are aware, Michel Ducos was the mastermind of the plot to assassinate the Holy Father. And I have been informed that his agents planted false documents in attempt to implicate others in the plot.
"Thus, forgery is a technique which the infamous Ducos had used before." Cioli shook his head sorrowfully. "We can only wonder how he intended to exploit these faux Etruscan artifacts. No doubt, we would have eventually found a capsule which contained, in Latin, some subversive utterance, once he had convinced the populace that the writer was a true prophet. Be that as it may, his plot has now been foiled."
Next month they'll be blaming Ducos for stillborn calves and sour milk, Lewis thought.
Niccolo Cavriani whispered to Lewis. "I know that you would rather have denounced Curzio as a forger, but don't forget what we are getting out of this. The Inghirami family has agreed to supply the labor and materials for the Larderello operation. In return for letting Curzio off the hook."
The grand duke, in the meantime, was whispering to Cioli. At last, Cioli called the audience to order.
"Thank you for your report," Ferdinand said. "These are my decisions.
"Signore Curzio Inghirami, I regret any embarrassment which these revelations may have caused you. Be assured that as a scion of the family Inghirami, you remain in my affections. I believe that your affection for history is so great that you acted imprudently in the matter of the dissemination of these inscriptions. Perhaps a course of study at one of our great Tuscan universities would remedy the lacunae in your knowledge which led to this outcome.
"Signore Inghiramo Inghirami, it is not for me to intervene between a father and his son, but it is clear that your Curzio was misled because he did not have the knowledge of Latin, or of history, which one of his calling should acquire. May I ask that you permit him to study those subjects at the University of Florence? If so, I will permit him to list me as his patron.
"Dottore Lewis Philip Bartolli, I have heard that according to your history books, my brother Leopold and I started a famous scientific society in 1657. Having witnessed first the great experiments of our own beloved Galileo Galilei, and now your own rational investigations into the truth of this Etruscan mystery, I have decided that there is no reason to wait more than two decades to establish the Accademia del Cimento. Galileo, of course, will be its first member.
"The word ' cimento,' as you know, means 'experiment.' My cimentisti will disdain the sterile attempt of the Aristotelians to deduce everything; they will insist on the experimental proof of each hypothesis. I would like to invite you to join their ranks."
Me? A member of the same scientific society as Galileo? thought Lewis. "Your Grace, as you know, I am in Tuscany for a particular purpose."
"Indeed. But since that purpose requires scientific investigations, I do not see a conflict."
"Also, I must answer to my superiors as to where I am stationed. I don't know how long I can remain in Tuscany." Lewis carefully avoided any references to his superiors being in the military. Ferdinand knew, but it was not for public release. "However, provided that they have no objection, and that you have no problem with my being a non-resident member, then, of course… with the utmost thanks.. . I accept!
Historical Note
There really was a Curzio Inghirami, and in November 1634, he "discovered" Etruscan artifacts, which he called "scariths," which were definitely fake and almost certainly fabricated by him. His big mistake was that he had his Etruscan write on rag paper rather than on linen cloth-a mistake which "my" Curzio avoids thanks to his research in Grantville. For the history of Curzio's scariths, read Ingrid D. Rowland, The Scarith of Scornello: A Tale of Renaissance Forgery (U. Chicago Press: 2004). Note that my chronology differs, thanks to the "butterfly effect" of the Ring of Fire, from the historical one.
Wings on the Mountain by Terry Howard
The regulars left the table nearest the fire when the strangers came in. At the base of the Matterhorn summer nights are chilly, so a fire is welcome starting in the late afternoon. Strangers paid much higher prices for everything and the whole village, not just the innkeeper, profited. Everyone made strangers welcome.
The four outlanders were barely seated before a jack of beer was set in front of each of them. "There is soup tonight," the innkeeper said, "and clean linen for pallets in the loft. I am sorry but the village has only one sleeping room for travelers and it has already been let.
"Tomorrow would you prefer beef, pork, or fowl?" The village would enjoy what the travelers paid for but did not eat. It was hoped they would want beef.
The guests were taken aback. "You presume we are staying."
"Good sirs, the trail does not lead through the village. When you leave you will go back the way you came. You are not passing through."
A man who, by his dress, did not fit in spoke from the darker back of the room. When he quit paying for meat the village quit making room for him by the fire. "Until Grantville came to the Germanies, only those born here ever came. Most who leave never return. You came to climb the mountain. You will not leave until you have tried."
The four men were clearly astonished.
"Did you think you were the first to try?" the man asked. "Sir Edward Whympel, will, would have been, the first to climb this mountain. If he can do it in 1865, you can do it now and be remembered forever."
A very disappointed traveler asked, "Then we are too late?"
"Too late to be the first to try. You could be the first to succeed."
"Who else has tried?" one outlander demanded.
"Who remembers those who only tried? I can get you the names of the others still in town if you wish."
This caught the attention of the adventurers. One asked, "Other climbers are in town?"
"They have already tried? We must talk to them," demanded another who was clearly noble from his voice. He would have his way. No one would tell him no.
The man in the dark shook his head, "The priest will not allow it."
"What does the priest have to say about it?"
"Raising the dead takes a witch, and the priest will see any known witch burned. None will raise the dead for you, no matter how much you pay."
"How many have tried?"
"They say the first ones came early last year. We were the fourth group, you are the fifth. There are four men in the church yard and three more on the mountain. Others have gone back down the pass. I decided to wait for another group and try again. I'll be happy to tell you everything I know, and act as a guide, as long as I can join you in your climb."
The innkeeper asked, "Would you gentlemen like bread and soup now or later? I can add cheese and some pickles. We will do better tomorrow."