“Guarded?”
“That’s a very good question. At that point in his life, I’d say no. He had the support of the university and the Vatican. Later, well, that’s where it gets interesting. I mentioned chief inquisitor Father Vincenzo Maculano last night. He was a skilled military architect and a shrewd, severe man. If anyone could bring Galileo to recant, with torture one of the means available, it was Maculano. But after conducting the first interview on April 12, 1633, Maculano concluded that Galileo was too old and frail to be subjected to such means.”
“That didn’t stop his trial,” Katrina offered.
“No, but it did establish a tone. They sought to manipulate Galileo; beat him psychologically, if such a thing existed then, rather than physically. They succeeded, but ultimately Cardinal Francesco Barberini, the Grand Inquisitor of the Roman Inquisition and nephew of Pope Urban VIII, was one of three who refused to condemn Galileo.”
“The Grand Inquisitor did not vote to convict?” Katrina was dismayed.
“That’s right. Seven still found him guilty for the reasons described,” Eccleston stated. “But most still quietly believed him.”
McCauley was surprised. “I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t. But I’ve often felt there was something that got in the way of a more public review of the accusations and Galileo’s defense.” Eccleston rubbed his hands together, then grasped them, almost in prayer. “Maybe we’ll still find that something.”
“Not if it’s in the missing pages,” Katrina said with discouragement.
“Then let’s see if we’re smarter than Galileo’s censors. Back to work. I’m going to order up more.”
Katrina and Quinn sat side by side scouring for more words, phrases, or hints of Galileo’s trip to Le Marche.
Katrina was the first to spot something in a November entry, a letter to a man named Alfonso Garaldi at The University of Padua. Padua was where Galileo had been appointed professor of mathematics in 1592 and chair of the department. There, Galileo taught Euclid’s geometry and astronomy to medical students who needed a basic understanding of the field. Katrina was aware of the university, mostly through its highly regarded Museum of Geology and Palaeontology. She wondered if the university also had papers they should examine. That idea evaporated when she noticed a reference to Genga, the town in Le Marche where she surmised Galileo must have stayed when he conducted his temperature experiments.
“I’ll need Jareth’s read on this,” she told Quinn. “ I think Galileo is describing the mountain. He’s writing about la mia esplorazione. My exploration. Whoever was going through the letters may have missed this.”
A few minutes later, Father Eccleston walked in empty-handed. “Sorry. There are more volumes like this, but I was looking for specific diaries. Nothing relevant.”
“Well, Katrina may have found something.”
“May?” she objected.
“Pardon me. This amazing woman, schooled in Italian, has stumbled…”
“Stumbled?”
“I stand corrected. She’s made a tremendous observation.”
“Much better, Dr. McCauley.”
“Let me see,” the priest said. She showed Eccleston Galileo’s correspondence to Garaldi.
“When did Galileo begin most of his astronomical research?” she quietly asked.
The priest knew the history. “In 1609 he made a telescope with 20x magnification modeled after a European version that had 3x power. Then he worked up to 30x power. Over time he was able to observe the moon, discover four satellites of Jupiter, confirm the phases of Venus, see a supernova, and discover sunspots. He conducted a demonstration for Venetian lawmakers in August, 1609. Oh, you’ll love this. He sold them telescopes on the side.”
“I had no idea,” Katrina replied. “But why do you think he was writing about specific points in space eight years earlier?”
“What do you mean?” McCauley was unsure where she was going with the train of thought.
“Look. Here. In the fall of 1601, Galileo referenced it to Alfonso Garaldi, in which he discussed the Greek’s fascination with Ursa Major and Ursa Minor and how a single star had pointed travelers north for ages.”
“So?” McCauley asked not seeing anything particularly significant.
“He also uses the Italian word key in his correspondence.” She pointed to the passage and read, “‘la chiave per sbloccare i misteri della paura.’”
“I’m sorry, you have to help me,” McCauley implored.
Eccleston re-read the phrases with bewilderment. There were also descriptions of terrain, wild flowers and brush.
“A translation, please?”
Katrina ignored Quinn and asked Eccleston a direct question. “He doesn’t mention the trip to Le Marche specifically, but do you think it’s what he’s writing about?”
Eccleston looked up from Galileo’s letters that few in modern history had likely seen, or at the very least, applied any real meaning. “‘La chiave per sbloccare i misteri della paura,’ now that’s extremely interesting.”
“Someone, please!” McCauley said louder than he should have. It immediately brought footsteps from the library archivist. “Please,” he whispered.
“La chiave is the key, as Dr. Alpert noted. The whole thought: ‘la chiave per sbloccare i misteri della paura.’ The key to unlock the mysteries of time.”
A profound thought came over McCauley. He smiled. “Father, if there’s a key, wouldn’t that suggest there’s a lock?”
“Well, arguably yes it could, but I can’t say for certain,” the priest replied.
“I would. And I believe I touched it.”
“What if Galileo figured it all out?” McCauley continued. “What if he discovered the same thing in Le Marche that we did in Montana and the old hermit had in Russia?”
Katrina took the possibility further. “He was a mathematician, right?”
“Right,” Eccleston said.
“A mathematician who would have recognized prime numbers and been intrigued enough to look for a solution to a mathematical problem.”
“Well, absolutely.”
“Then we need to figure out what’s the problem and what’s the solution. The lock and the key.”
Eccleston nodded and rose. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” McCauley asked.
“You just reminded me of something.”
“What?”
“To see if there’s any correspondence between Galileo and a Frenchman named Mersenne.”
A half hour later, Beppe and Eccleston returned with more loosely bound volumes.
“How’s your French?” the priest asked.
“Restaurant good,” McCauley shyly admitted.
“I’m fluent,” Katrina said. Then to McCauley she added, “Aren’t you glad I’m here?”
“Ever more.”
She smiled. “Okay, now who’s Mersenne?”
“A mathematician, a writer, a philosopher, a priest. And he translated some of Galileo’s writings into French. Mersenne also had a real interest in prime numbers and created a formula for determining them. They became known as Mersenne primes. The search continues to this day through an organization named GIMPS — the Great Internet Mersenne Primes Search.”
“And his connection with Galileo?” Katrina wondered.
“Translating his works, but also he was a friend of Christian Huygens, who expanded on yet another principle that Galileo discovered — how the sweep of a pendulum could be used to calculate time. It was his breakthrough that led to the clock.”