The Cipher of Leonardo

Myn gentil rederes alle, ich dide thynke ich wolde teste out sum newe materiale on yow bifor ich do trye to publishe yt. Ich haue layde plannes for to enditen what ich do calle a ‘romaunce thrillere’ – all of the actioune of a romaunce, but wyth sum puzzle solvynge and mysteriousness and sum thynge of an expose of the chirche. Ich do calle yt ‘The Ciphere of Leonardo,’ and ich thynke yt ‘has legges,’ as they saye. Here ich shal pooste a ‘tesere’ for thee – thys ys the firste fitt of the poeme:

HEERE BEGYNNETH THE MOOST THRILLINGE ROMAUNCE OF THE CIPHRE OF LEONARDO

Oon night ther forwarde dide ystagger fayntynge

A man hight Saunierye who knewe of payntynges

Thurgh archwaye vaulted of the Louvre he passid

And seised at nerest canvass as yf gassid;

A Carravage yt was, wyth gilded frame,

Ovt from the walle thys man dide tere the same.

In hepe beneth the canvas doun yfallen

From far aweye he herde thalarme to callen.

He thoght hym ‘ich yet lyve’ and caste his eyen

Arounde the roome a refuge for to spyen.

As crawlede he forth a voys dide saye ‘Halt, stop!’

So close yt was! Yn feere hys jawe did drop.

And ther thurgh irene barres he sawe a man

-for, ich sholde saye, accordynge to the plan

Of Palais-Louvres securitee ful grete

By cause of the alarum from lyne VIII

Ther hadde ydropped a gate of muchel strengthe

That trappid Saunierye yn that roomes lengthe.

The man on thothir syde (art thou stille wyth me?)

Was an albino, ful pale and straunge to se

For nothynge striketh feere yn mortal soules

Lyk to the pale! A boate ful of hooles

Ich rather wolde thurgh sharke-rich watirs stere

Than oones come to an albino neere!

A pistole from his coat the pale man drewe

And aymed yt at Saunieyre the trewe.

In accent odd, ‘Was litel vse to runne,’

He sayde, ‘Now wher ys yt? Or get the gunne!’

‘Tolde thee I haue,’ the gode man dide proteste

‘Of what thou spekst ich haue nat the fainteste’

‘Thou liest’ thalbino sayde, ‘Thou and thy brotheres

Kepen sum thynge that by ryght longeth to otheres.’

Adrenalin in Saunieyres veynes dide synge

‘How coud he,’ thoght he then, ‘knowe of thys thynge?’

‘Tonighte,’ pale weirdo seyde, ‘the rightful men

Thys thynge in seisin holden shal ayein –

Telle forth and lyfsblud for thynselfe reservest

But telle me nat and by my gunne thou stervest.’

So Sauyniere lyk Sinon storye tolde

False as the devil, and seyde yt forth ful bolde

For he hadde yt rehersd many a yeer

(Ye notice, o myn gentil rederes deere,

Ich telle yow nat of what thys ‘thyng’ might be-

Yt ys a tricke poetic vsid by me

To kepe yow yn confusioun most plesynge

Thurgh alle thys vague and nonspecific tesyng).

So, wyth the tale of thys McGuffin tolde

Sire Lilye-White did logh, ‘Ich knowe of oold

Thys storye false, for oothirs haue yt seyde’

Sauyniere dide gaspe and blaunchen lyk a mayde:

Yf pale-face spoke the treuthe, than al the thre

Of senechaux (aske me nat what they be)

Had dyede the deeth and tolde the selfsame tale.

Was no man evir yn gretere nede of ale

Than thys Sauyniere, he was so reuthe.

‘Whan thou art dede, no man shal knowe the treuthe

But me,’ thalbino seyde, and shot Sauyniere.

The bullete sange yts hotte waye thurgh the aire

And lodged yn hys cheste, o payne so soore!

And caspere raysed the gunne for yet oon moore.

And yet a clikke, no bullet yet remayneth

For whiche to dryve a passage thurgh hys brayne.

‘Payne ys goode,’ the pale man seyde to hym

And disappearede. By cause he knewe of werre

And eek of woundes he long agoon had seene

Sauyniere coud rekne he hadde minutes XV

Bifor the gunshot wolde bryng forth his deeth

And so he cast aboute wyth hys last breeth

To fynde whiche payntynge nereby he colde see

Well suited to sum light cryptographie

With which to leave sum puzzle or sum clewe

For to be solved by Hanks and Miss Tatou.