iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第47部分

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　in　peace。　Paul's　carrel；　which　I　haven't　seen　in　months；　sits　near　the　farthest　corner。
　〃Maybe　I　was　just　getting　tired；　but　I　thought；　what　if　he　knew　exactly　what　he　was　doing？　What　if　you　could　figure　out　how　to　decipher　the　second　half　of　the　book　by　focusing　on　something　in　the　very　first　riddle？　Francesco　said　he　didn't　leave　any　solutions；　but　he　didn't　say　he　left　no　hints。　And　I　had　the　directions　from　the　portmaster's　diary　to　help　me。〃
　We　arrive　in　front　of　his　carrel；　and　he　begins　to　twist　the　bination　lock　on　the　door。　A　sheet　of　black　construction　paper　has　been　taped　to　the　little　rectangular　window；　making　it　impossible　to　see　inside。
　〃I　thought　the　directions　had　to　be　about　a　physical　location。　How　to　get　from　a　stadium　to　a　crypt；　measured　in　stadia。　Even　the　portmaster　thought　the　directions　were　geographical。〃　He　shakes　his　head。　〃I　wasn't　thinking　like　Francesco。〃
　Paul　opens　the　lock　and　swings　the　door　wide。　The　little　room　is　filled　with　books；　piles　upon　piles　of　them；　a　tiny　version　of　the　President's　Room　at　Ivy。　Food　wrappers　litter　the　floor。　Sheets　of　paper　are　taped　to　the　walls；　thick　as　feathers；　each　one　scrawled　with　a　message。　Phineus　son　of　Belus　wasn't　Phineus　king　of　Salmydessus；　says　one。　Check　Hesiod：　Hesperethousa　or　Hesperia　and　Arethousa？　says　another。　Buy　more　crackers；　says　a　third。
　I　lift　a　stack　of　photocopies　from　one　of　the　two　chairs　crammed　into　the　carrel；　and　try　to　sit　down　without　knocking　anything　over。
　〃So　I　came　back　to　the　riddles；〃　he　says。　〃What　was　the　first　riddle　about？〃
　〃Moses。　The　Latin　word　for　horns。〃
　〃Right。〃　He　turns　his　back　to　me　to　shut　the　door　behind　us。　〃It　was　about　a　mistranslation。　Philology；　historical　linguistics。　It　was　about　language。〃
　He　begins　searching　through　a　column　of　books　atop　the　hutch　of　his　desk。　Finally　he　finds　what　he　wants：　Hartt's　History　of　Renaissance　Art。
　〃Why　did　we　get　lucky　with　the　first　riddle？〃　he　says。
　〃Because　I　had　that　dream。〃
　〃No；〃　he　says；　finding　the　page　with　Michelangelo's　sculpture　of　Moses；　the　picture　that　began　our　partnership。　〃We　got　lucky　because　the　riddle　was　about　something　verbal；　and　we　were　looking　for　something　physical。　Francesco　didn't　care　about　actual；　physical　horns；　he　cared　about　a　word；　a　mistranslation。　We　got　lucky　because　that　mistranslation　eventually　manifested　itself　physically。　Michelangelo　carved　his　Moses　with　horns；　and　you　remembered　that。　If　it　hadn't　been　for　the　physical　manifestation；　we　would　never　have　found　the　linguistic　answer。　But　that　was　the　key：　the　words。〃
　〃So　you　looked　for　a　linguistic　representation　of　the　directions。〃
　〃Exactly。　North；　south；　east；　and　west　aren't　physical　clues。　They're　verbal　ones。　When　I　looked　at　the　second　half　of　the　book；　I　knew　I　was　right。　The　word　stadia　shows　up　near　the　beginning　of　the　very　first　chapter。　Look；〃　he　says；　finding　a　sheet　of　paper　where　he's　worked　something　out。
　There　are　three　sentences　written　on　the　page：　Gil　and　Charlie　go　to　the　stadium　to　watch　Princeton　vs。　Harvard。　Tom　waits　as　Paul　catches　up。　Katie　takes　photographs　while　winsomely　smiling　and　mouthing；　I　love　you；　Tom。
　〃Winsomely？〃　I　say。
　〃Doesn't　look　like　much；　right？　It　just　sort　of　rambles；　like　Poliphilo's　story。　But　plot　it　out　in　a　grid；〃　he　says；　turning　the　piece　of　paper　over。　〃And　you　get　this：〃
　
　I'm　waiting　for　something　to　jump　out　at　me；　but　it　doesn't。
　〃That's　it？〃　I　ask。
　〃That's　it。　Just　follow　the　directions。　Four　south；　ten　east；　two　north；　six　west。　De　Stadio…'from　stadium。'　Start　with　the　's'　in　'stadium。'　〃
　I　find　a　pen　on　his　desk　and　try　it　out；　moving　down　four；　right　ten；　up　two；　and　left　six。
　
　I　write　down　the　letters　S…O…L…U…T。
　〃Then　repeat　the　process；〃　he　says；　〃starting　with　the　last　letter。〃
　I　begin　again　from　T。
　
　And　there　it　is；　laid　out　on　the　page：　S…O…L…U…T…I…O…N。
　〃That's　the　Rule　of　Four；〃　Paul　says。　〃It's　so　simple　once　you　understand　how　Colonna's　mind　works。　Four　directions　within　the　text。　Just　repeat　it　over　and　over　again；　then　figure　out　where　the　word　breaks　are。〃
　〃But　it　must've　taken　Colonna　months　to　write。〃
　He　nods。　〃The　funny　thing　is；　I'd　always　noticed　there　were　certain　lines　in　the　Hypnerotomachia　that　seemed　even　more　disorganized　than　others…places　where　words　didn't　really　fit；　where　clauses　were　in　strange　places；　where　the　weirdest　neologisms　turned　up。　It　makes　sense　now。　Francesco　had　to　write　the　text　to　fit　the　pattern。　It　explains　why　he　used　so　many　languages。　If　the　vernacular　word　didn't　fit　in　the　spaces；　he　would　have　to　try　the　Latin　word；　or　make　one　up　himself。　He　even　made　a　bad　choice　with　the　pattern。　Look。〃
　Paul　points　to　the　line　where　O；　L；　and　N　appear。
　〃See　how　many　cipher　letters　are　on　that　one　line？　And　there'll　be　another　one　once　you　go　six　west　again。　The　four…south；　two…north　pattern　doubles　back　on　itself；　so　every　other　line　in　the　Hypnerotomachia；　Francesco　had　to　find　text　that　fit　four　different　letters。　But　it　worked。　No　one　in　five　hundred　years　picked　up　on　it。〃
　〃But　the　letters　in　the　book　aren't　printed　that　way；〃　I　say；　wondering　how　he　applied　the　technique　to　the　actual　text。　〃Letters　aren't　spaced　evenly　in　a　grid。　How　do　you　figure　out　what's　exactly　north　or　south？〃
　He　nods。　〃You　can't；　because　it's　hard　to　say　which　letter　is　directly　above　or　below　another。　I　had　to　work　it　out　mathematically　instead　of　graphically。〃
　It　still　amazes　me；　the　way　he　teases　simplicity　and　plexity　out　of　the　same　idea。
　〃Take　what　I　wrote；　for　example。　In　this　case　there　are〃…he　counts　something…〃eighteen　letters　per　line；　right？　If　you　work　it　out；　that　means　'four　south'　will　always　be　four　lines　straight　down；　which　is　the　same　as　seventy…two　letters　to　the　right　of　the　original　starting　point。　Using　the　same　math；　'two　north'　will　be　the　same　as　thirty…six　letters　to　the　left。　Once　you　know　the　length　of　Francesco's　standard　line；　you　can　just　figure　out　the　math　and　do　everything　that　way。　After　a　while；　you　get　pretty　quick　at　counting　the　letters。〃
　In　our　partnership；　it　occurs　to　me；　the　only　thing　I　ever　had　that　could　pare　to　the　speed　of　Paul's　reasoning　was　my　intuition…luck；　dreams；　chance　associations。　It　hardly　seems　fair　to　him　that　we　worked　together　as　equals。
　Paul　folds　the　sheet　of　paper　and　places　it　in　the　trash　can。　For　a　second　he　looks　around　the　carrel；　then　lifts　a　stack　of　books　and　places　it　in　the　crook　of　my　arm；　followed　by　a　stack　for　himself。　The　painkiller　must　still　be　working；　because　my　shoulder　doesn't　buckle　under　the　heft。
　〃I'm　amazed　you　figured　it　out；〃　I　tell　him。　〃What　did　it　say？〃
　〃Help　me　put　these　away　back　on　the　shelves　first；〃　he　answers。　〃I　want　to　empty　this　place　out。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃Just　to　be　safe。〃
　〃From　what？〃
　He　half…smiles　at　me。　〃Library　fines？〃
　We　exit　the　carrel　and　Paul　guides　me　toward　a　long　corridor　extending　far　into　the　darkness。　There　are　bookshelves　on　either　side；　branching　off　into　aisles　of　their　own；　dead　ends　begetting　dead　ends。　We　are　in　a　corner　of　the　library　visited　so　rarely　that　the　librarians　keep　the　lights　off；　letting　visitors　flick　the　switch　on　each　shelf　when　they　e。
　〃I　couldn't　believe　it；　when　I　finished；〃　he　says。　〃Even　before　I　was　through　decoding；　I　was　shaking。　It　was　done。　After　all　this　time；　done。〃
　He　stops　at　one　of　the　rearmost　shelves；　and　I　can　make　out　only　the　silhouette　of　his　face。
　〃And　it　was　worth　it；　Tom。　I　never　even　saw　it　ing；　what　was　in　the　second　half　of　the　book。　Remember　what　we　saw　in　Bill's　letter？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃Most　of　that　letter　was　a　lie。　You　know　that　work　is　mine；　Tom。　The　most　Bill　ever　did　was　translate　a　few　Arabic　characters。　He　made　some　copies　and　checked　out　some　books。　Everything　else　I　did　on　my　own。〃
　〃I　know；〃　I　say。
　Paul　covers　his　mouth　with　his　hand　for　a　second。
　〃That's　not　true。　Without　everything　your　father　and　Richard　found；　and　everything　the　rest　of　you　solved…you；　especially…I　couldn't　have　done　it。　I　didn't　do　it　all　on　my　own。　The　rest　of　you　showed　me　the　way。〃
　Paul　invokes　my　father's　name；　and　Richard　Curry's；　as　if　they　are　a　pair　of　saints；　two　martyrs　from　the　paintings　in　Taft's　lecture。　For　a　moment　I　feel　like　Sancho　Panza；　listening　to　Don　Quixote。　The　giants　he　sees　are　nothing　but　windmills；　I　know；　and　yet　he's　the　one　who　sees　clearly　in　the　dark；　and　I'm　the　one　doubting　my　eyes。　Maybe　that's　been　the　rub　all　along；　I　think：　we　are　animals　of　imagination。　Only　a　man　who　sees　giants　can　ever　stand　upon　their　shoulders。
　〃But　Bill　was　right　about　one　thing；〃　Paul　says。　〃The　results　will　cast　a　shadow　over　everything　else　in　historical　studies。　For　a　long　time。〃
　He　takes　the　stack　of　books　from　my　hands；　and　suddenly　I　feel　weightless。　The　corridor　behind　us　extends　toward　a　light　in　the　distance；　open　aisles　verging　off　into　space　on　each　side。　Even　in　the　darkness；　I　can　see　the　way　Paul　smiles。
　
　Chapter　22
　
　We　begin　making　trips　back　and　forth　from　the　carrel；　replacing　dozens　of　books；　most　of　them　on　shelves　where　they　don't　belong。　Paul　only　seems　to　care　that　they're　out　of　sight。
　〃Do　you　remember　what　was　going　on　in　Italy　just　before　the　Hypnerotomachia　was　published？〃　he　asks。
　〃Just　what　was　in　the　Vatican　tour　book。〃
　Paul　lifts　another　pile　of　books　into　my　arms　as　we　walk　back　into　the　darkness。
　〃The　intellectual　life　of　Italy　during　Francesco's　day　revolves　around　a　single　city；〃　he　says。
　〃Rome。〃
　But　Paul　shakes　his　head。　〃Smaller　than　that。　The　size　of　Princeton…the　campus；　not　the　town。〃
　I　see　how　enchanted　he　is　by　what　he's　found；　how　real　it's　bee　for　him　already。
　〃In　that　town；〃　he　says；　〃you've　got　more　intellectuals　than　anyone　knows　what　to　do　with。　Geniuses。　Polymaths。　Thinkers　who　are　gunning　for　the　big　answers　to　the　big　questions。　Autodidacts　who　have　taught　themselves　ancient　languages　no　one　else　knows。　Philosophers　who　are　bining　religious　points　from　the　Bible　with　ideas　from　Greek　and　Roman　texts；　Egyptian　mysticism；　Persian　manuscripts　so　old　nobody　knows　how　to　date　them。　The　absolute　cutting　edge　of　humanism。　Think　of　the　riddles。　University　professors　playing　Rithmomachia。　Translators　interpreting　Horap