iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第13部分

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making　great　strides。　Curry　insisted　that　his　old　friend　join　them　in　their　work；　and　my　father　agreed。　Like　three　animals　in　a　single　cage；　the　men　struggled　to　acmodate　one　another；　circling　in　suspicion　until　new　lines　were　drawn　and　new　balances　struck。　Nevertheless；　time　was　their　ally　in　those　days；　and　all　three　shared　faith　in　the　Hypnerotomachia。　Like　a　cosmic　ombudsman；　old　Francesco　Colonna　watched　over　and　guided　them；　whitewashing　dissent　with　layers　of　hope。　And　for　a　while；　at　least；　the　veneer　of　unity　endured。
　　
　For　more　than　ten　months；　Curry；　Taft；　and　my　father　worked　together。　Only　then　did　Curry　make　the　discovery　that　would　prove　fatal　for　their　partnership。　By　then　he　had　gravitated　out　of　the　galleries　and　into　the　auction　houses；　where　the　larger　stakes　of　the　art　world　lay；　and　it　was　as　he　prepared　his　first　estate　sale　that　he　came　across　a　ragged　notebook　that　had　once　belonged　to　a　collector　of　antiquities；　recently　deceased。
　The　notebook　belonged　to　the　Genoese　portmaster；　an　old　man　with　a　crabbed　hand　who　made　a　habit　of　remarking　on　the　state　of　the　weather　and　his　failing　health；　but　who　also　kept　a　daily　record　of　all　goings…on　at　the　docks　in　the　spring　and　summer　of　1497；　including　the　peculiar　events　surrounding　the　arrival　of　a　man　named　Francesco　Colonna。
　The　portmaster…whom　Curry　called　Genovese；　for　he　never　gave　his　name…gathered　the　rumors　about　Colonna　circling　through　the　wharf。　He　made　a　point　of　overhearing　the　conversations　Colonna　had　with　his　local　men；　and　learned　that　the　wealthy　Roman　had　e　to　Genoa　to　oversee　the　arrival　of　an　important　ship；　whose　cargo　only　Colonna　knew。　Genovese　began　bringing　news　of　ining　ships　to　Colonna's　day　lodgings；　where　he　once　caught　Colonna　scribbling　notes；　which　the　Roman　hid　as　soon　as　Genovese　entered。
　Had　it　been　left　at　that；　the　portmaster's　diary　would've　shed　little　light　on　the　Hypnerotomachia。　But　the　portmaster　was　a　curious　man；　and　as　he　grew　impatient　waiting　for　Colonna's　ship　to　arrive；　he　sensed　that　the　only　way　to　discover　the　nobleman's　intentions　was　to　see　Francesco's　shipping　documents　listing　the　contents　of　the　cargo。　Finally　he　went　to　ask　his　brother…in…law；　Antonio；　a　merchant　who　sometimes　trafficked　in　pirated　goods；　if　a　thief　might　be　hired　to　enter　Colonna's　lodgings　and　copy　whatever　could　be　found　there。　Antonio；　in　exchange　for　Genovese's　help　in　another　shipping　scheme；　agreed　to　help。
　What　Antonio　found　was　that　even　the　most　desperate　men　would　refuse　the　job　upon　mention　of　Colonna's　name。　The　only　one　willing　to　do　it　was　an　illiterate　pickpocket。　As　it　happened；　though；　the　pickpocket　did　his　job　well。　He　copied　all　three　documents　in　Colonna's　possession：　the　first　was　part　of　a　story；　which　the　portmaster　found　of　no　interest　and　never　fully　described；　the　second　was　a　scrap　of　leather　with　a　plicated　diagram　drawn　on　it；　which　was　inscrutable　to　Genovese；　and　the　third　was　a　peculiar　sort　of　map；　consisting　of　the　four　cardinal　directions；　each　followed　by　a　set　of　units；　which　Genovese　struggled　in　vain　to　understand。　The　portmaster　was　beginning　to　regret　hiring　the　thief；　when　an　event　transpired　that　quickly　made　him　fear　for　his　life。
　Upon　his　return　home　at　night；　Genovese　found　his　wife　weeping。　She　explained　that　her　brother；　Antonio；　had　been　poisoned　at　dinner　in　his　own　home；　his　body　discovered　by　an　errand　boy。　A　similar　fate　had　befallen　the　pickpocket：　while　drinking　at　a　tavern；　the　illiterate　thief　had　been　stabbed　in　the　thigh　by　a　passing　stranger。　Almost　before　the　tavern　keeper　noticed；　the　man　had　bled　to　death；　and　the　stranger　had　disappeared。
　Genovese　lived　the　following　days　in　a　sweat；　hardly　able　to　perform　his　duties　at　the　docks。　He　never　returned　to　Colonna's　lodgings；　but　in　his　diary　he　recorded　every　useful　detail　of　what　the　thief　had　found；　and　he　waited　nervously　for　the　arrival　of　Colonna's　ship；　hoping　the　nobleman　would　depart　with　his　cargo。　His　concerns　became　so　dire　that　large　merchant　vessels　came　and　went　with　hardly　a　mention。　When　Francesco's　ship　finally　did　e　to　port；　old　Genovese　could　hardly　believe　his　eyes。
　Why　would　a　nobleman　trouble　himself　over　such　a　trivial　little　bark；　he　wrote；　this　grubby　runt…duckling　of　a　boat？　What　could　it　be　carrying　that　a　man　of　quality　would　possibly　give　a　dirty　damn　about？
　And　when　he　learned　that　it　had　e　around　Gibraltar；　carrying　goods　from　the　north；　Genovese　was　nearly　apoplectic。　He　filled　his　little　book　with　filthy　swears；　saying　that　Colonna　was　a　syphilitic　madman；　and　that　only　a　dunce　or　a　lunatic　would　believe　that　anything　of　value　had　ever　e　from　a　place　like　Paris。
　According　to　Richard　Curry；　only　two　other　entries　referred　to　Colonna。　In　the　first；　Genovese　recorded　a　conversation　he　overheard　between　Colonna　and　a　Florentine　architect　who　was　the　Roman's　only　regular　visitor。　In　it；　Francesco　alluded　to　a　book　he　was　writing；　in　which　he　chronicled　the　turmoil　of　recent　days。　Genovese；　still　gripped　with　fear；　made　a　careful　note　of　it。
　The　second　entry；　made　three　days　later；　was　more　cryptic；　but　even　more　reminiscent　of　the　letter　I　found　with　my　father。　By　then；　Genovese　had　convinced　himself　that　Colonna　was　truly　mad。　The　Roman　refused　to　let　his　men　unload　the　ship　in　daylight；　insisting　that　the　freight　could　only　be　moved　safely　at　dusk。　Many　of　the　wooden　cargo　cases；　the　portmaster　observed；　were　light　enough　to　be　carried　by　a　woman　or　an　old　man；　and　he　taxed　himself　to　think　of　a　spice　or　metal　that　would　be　shipped　in　this　way。　Gradually　Genovese　began　to　suspect　that　Colonna's　associates…the　architect　and　a　pair　of　brothers；　also　from　Florence…were　henchmen　or　mercenaries　in　some　dark　plot。　When　a　rumor　seemed　to　confirm　his　fear；　he　feverishly　wrote　it　down。
　It　is　said　that　Antonio　and　the　thief　are　not　this　man's　first　victims；　but　that　Colonna　has　had　two　other　men　killed　at　his　whim。　I　do　not　know　who　they　are；　and　have　not　yet　heard　their　names　spoken；　but　I　am　sure　it　must　be　about　this　cargo　of　his。　They　learned　of　its　contents；　and　he　feared　their　betrayal。　I　am　convinced　of　it　now：　fear　is　the　thing　that　moves　this　man。　His　eyes　betray　him；　even　if　his　men　do　not。
　According　to　my　father；　Curry　made　less　of　the　second　entry　than　of　the　first；　which　he　believed　might　be　a　reference　to　the　writing　of　the　Hypnerotomachia。　If　true；　then　the　story　the　thief　had　discovered　among　Colonna's　belongings；　the　details　of　which　Genovese　never　bothered　to　record；　might　have　been　an　early　draft　of　the　manuscript。
　But　Taft；　who　by　then　was　pursuing　the　Hypnerotomachia　from　his　own　angles；　assembling　huge　catalogs　of　textual　references　into　a　concordance；　so　that　every　word　of　Colonna's　could　be　traced　to　its　origins；　failed　to　see　any　possible　relevance　to　the　chicken…scratch　notes　the　portmaster　claimed　to　see　Colonna　keeping。　Such　a　ridiculous　story；　he　said；　could　never　shed　light　on　the　profound　mystery　of　the　great　book。　He　quickly　treated　the　discovery　the　same　way　he'd　treated　every　other　book　he'd　read　on　the　subject：　as　kindling　for　the　fire。
　His　frustration；　I　think；　was　rooted　in　more　than　his　feelings　about　the　diary。　He　had　seen　the　balance　of　power　shift　against　him；　the　chemistry　of　his　work　with　Richard　Curry　depose　as　my　father　lured　Curry　into　new　approaches　and　alternative　possibilities。
　And　so　a　struggle　ensued；　a　battle　of　influence；　in　which　my　father　and　Vincent　Taft　conceived　the　hatred　for　each　other　that　would　last　until　the　end　of　my　father's　life。　Taft；　feeling　that　he　had　nothing　to　lose；　vilified　my　father's　work　in　an　attempt　to　win　Curry　back　to　his　side。　My　father；　feeling　that　Curry　was　withering　under　Taft's　pressure；　responded　in　kind。　In　one　month；　the　work　of　the　previous　ten　was　undone。　Whatever　progress　the　three　men　had　made　together　unraveled　into　separate　ownerships；　neither　Taft　nor　my　father　wanting　anything　to　do　with　what　the　other　had　contributed。
　Curry；　through　it　all；　clung　to　Genovese's　diary。　It　mystified　him；　how　his　friends　had　let　petty　grudges　promise　their　focus。　He　possessed；　in　his　youth；　the　same　virtue　he　would　later　see　and　admire　in　Paul：　a　mitment　to　truth；　and　a　great　impatience　with　distraction。　Of　the　three　men；　I　think　it　was　Curry　who'd　fallen　hardest　for　Colonna's　book；　Curry　who　wanted　most　of　all　to　solve　it。　Maybe　because　my　father　and　Taft　were　still　university　men；　they　saw　something　academic　in　the　Hypnerotomachia。　They　knew　a　scholar's　life　could　be　spent　in　the　service　of　a　single　book；　and　it　dulled　their　sense　of　urgency。　Only　Richard　Curry；　the　art　dealer；　maintained　his　furious　pace。　He　must　have　sensed　his　future　even　then。　His　life　in　books　was　fleeting。
　　
　Not　one　but　two　events　brought　matters　to　a　head。　The　first　occurred　when　my　father　went　back　to　Columbus　to　clear　his　head。　Three　days　before　returning　to　New　York　he　stumbled；　quite　literally；　across　a　coed　from　Ohio　State。　She　and　her　Pi　Beta　Phi　sisters　were　in　the　midst　of　a　book　drive；　soliciting　donations　from　local　shops　as　part　of　a　yearly　charity　event；　and　at　the　door　to　my　grandfather's　bookstore　their　paths　crossed　before　either　of　them　realized　it。　In　a　feathery　explosion　of　pages　and　p