The Secret Supper by Javier Sierra Read Free Book Online Page A

wonderful. We’ll have much to talk about. I think you’ve chosen the best place in the world to spend some time.”
    I found Alessandro agreeable. He was close to fifty years old and appeared wholly at ease, with a hooked nose and the sharpest chin I had ever seen, while his Adam’s apple seemed ready to pop out of his throat. On his desk he kept a pair of thick spectacles, no doubt to magnify the print in those extensive volumes, and the sleeves of his habit bore several impressive ink stains. Though I did not confide in him at once (in fact, I tried not to look at him too closely so as not to become bewitched by his ungainly face), I will say that a heartfelt current of affection flowed immediately between us. It was he who insisted in attending to my needs personally during my stay at the monastery, and he even offered to show me around that splendid building in which everything seemed so new. Furthermore, he promised to protect my peace and quiet so as to allow me to concentrate on my work.
    “If your example caught on and more brothers came to our house to study,” he complained, not able to hold back his tongue, “we might soon be able to transform it into a House of General Studies like those in Rome, or even perhaps into a university—”
    “Don’t other monks come here to study?”
    “Very few for what this place can offer. Even though our library might seem modest to you, it holds one of the most important collections of ancient texts in the entire dukedom.”
    “Indeed?”
    “Forgive me if I commit the sin of immodesty, but I’ve been working here for a long time now. Perhaps, to a cultured Roman such as yourself, it might seem poor compared to the Vatican Library, but please believe me if I say that we hold books here that even the librarians of His Holiness could not imagine—”
    “In that case,” I answered courteously, “it will be a privilege to consult them.”
    Father Alessandro bowed his head as if accepting the compliment, and started shuffling his papers around, as if looking for something important.
    “First, I need a small favor.” He laughed between his teeth. “In fact, you are a gift from Heaven. For someone like yourself, trained to decipher messages at the Secretariat of Keys, a riddle like this will be child’s play.”
    The Dominican extended toward me a piece of paper with a few scrawls. It was a simple drawing. A rough musical scale interrupted by a single misplaced note (“za”) and a hook. Like this:
    “Well?” he asked impatiently. “Do you understand the thing? I’ve spent three days trying to solve it in vain.”
    “And what are you supposed to be able to read here?”
    “A sentence in the Romance tongue.”
    I studied the riddle without being able to divine its meaning. Obviously, the clue had to be in that misplaced “za.” Things that were not in their right place always held an answer, but what of the hook? I placed the elements in order in my head, beginning with the scale, and I grinned with amusement.
    “It’s a sentence, certainly,” I said at last. “And very simple.”
    “Simple?”
    “All that’s required is to be able to read, Father Alessandro. See here: if you begin by translating the hook into Romance, that is to say, ‘amo,’ the rest of the drawing becomes clear at once.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “It’s easy. Read amo and then the notes.”
    Dubiously, the monk followed the drawing with his finger:
    “L’amo…re…mi…fa…sol…la…‘za’…re…L’amore mi fa sollazare!” he leapt up. “ ‘Love gives me pleasure.’ That Leonardo is a scamp! He’d better not let me catch him! To play like this with musical notes—Maledetto!”
    “Leonardo?”
    The mention of that name brought me back to reality. I had come to the library seeking a quiet place to decipher the Soothsayer’s enigma. A clue that, unless we were much mistaken, closely concerned Leonardo, the forbidden refectory and the work he was there engaged