The Map that Turned the World

The Map that Turned the World

Archimedes Mercador, Part 1

Lewis slowly climbed the narrow stairway, spiraling upwards in the darkness. Pulling free of its shadows, he wasted no time crossing the short landing toward Mercator’s study, where a visitor is met with the brassy glow of two gaslights, one located on either side of a huge door. A magnificent work of craftsmanship overlaid with golden filigree, the door seems to both invite and intimidate. On careful inspection, a faint glimmer betrays the protective wards only a few know how to unlock.

Leaning in close, he whispered a single word --Lewis-- and the door swung open, spilling a warm light over him.

Lewis entered Mercator’s study to find the man bent low over a broad cartographer’s table, his nose pressed close against its surface. Equipment and scrolls were strewn everywhere, as Mercator studied a specimen through a small, handheld loupe. Obviously ensconced in his work, he scarcely notice the intrusion.

Compelled to speak, Lewis gingerly approached the table. “Sir,” he began, “Mr. Slaughter is calling downstairs. He wishes to speak with you, right away. About his Mappa Mundi. He seems… upset about its delayed arrival.”

For several tense moments, it appeared that Mercator had not heard him because he did not move or speak, except to slide his loupe several centimeters to his left. Without taking his eyes from the map, he replied, “please occupy him with something fascinating for a few minutes more and then show him upstairs. Thank you Lewis.”
After Lewis went downstairs, Mercator rose from the map table. Hands slightly shaking, he poured himself a stiff drink, which he took all at once. He was not sure how much longer he could hold out, because Slaughter --a very important client-- had become increasingly impatient that Mercator had not made good on the substantial deposit he’d fronted for the purchase of the Hereford Mappa Mundi, an obscure map that had become nearly impossible to find.

A few minutes later, Slaughter entered. Mercator had made a point of being engrossed in the map when his guest arrived, so that he might deflect the conversation.

Without so much as a greeting, Mercator said, “Ah such a shame, this one. A fine forgery. All the details are so exquisitely reproduced that I almost regret exposing it. With a map like this, it is almost always something outrageously simple that gives everything away. Can you see the error, Lawrence?’

Slaughter reached for a loupe to examine the map, while Mercator steadied himself further, in his element now. “You won’t need that,” interjected Mercator. “The mistake is obvious to anyone familiar with the Carta Pisana. It is a shocking oversight.”

After several moments spent examining the map, Slaughter laughed and shook his head. “I am afraid I don’t see it Archi. Please, enlighten me.”

“Well,” began Mercator in a mumbled tone, almost to himself now, as he moved around the table, “all the place names are accurate for the period. And several of the illustrations are perfectly wrought --notice those dragons just there, with their correctly arching necks. This is a truly significant achievement of scholarship and artistry.” Mercator then gestured meaningfully at the ornate compass rose inscribed on the chart’s edge, and he raised his hands and brought them together, as if he were offering something grand to Slaughter. His eyes glittered with the joy of discovery, his voice lifting with emotion.

“You see, the giveaway is quite simple. It’s not hidden in the details at all. On this beautiful, most excellent forgery, its maker has placed East on top, just as you would expect to see on a map from the Early Period, so many years before the Age of Discovery.”

When his companion did not seem to catch on, Mercator continued, more rapidly and almost breathlessly, “the Carta Pisana --well a real Carta Pisana-- is an extraordinary specimen not because of its beauty, although it is beautiful, and not even for its accurate display of dangers that frightened explorers in this part of the world. The Carta Pisana is unique and historically important precisely because it depicts North on top, like most of our modern maps do but like none of the other maps of its time.

What makes it a priceless map is that the cartographer chose not to place East on top, at an age when all the other mapmakers did so. In this fundamental way, the Pisana was quite different from the maps of its time, a radical departure from the norm. Some nautical historians suggest the Pisana is the very first map ever to place North at the top. To this very day, no one knows why he did it.”

Without realizing it, Mercator had absentmindedly spoken aloud the question that had puzzled him for decades. As if he was speaking directly to the long dead mapmaker he said, “Why did you turn the world with your new map? Why could East no longer set the bearing for you? Why, my friend? What happened?”

Now with the real mystery laid out, Mercator became wistful, a bit diminished, as if only now realizing what it meant that he did not have the priceless Carta Pisana in his possession.

“As is wont to happen in the world of mapmaking, they got so many things beautifully, impossibly right. But with one error everything is made wrong. With this map you’d always be heading the wrong direction, wouldn’t you?”

With that, Mercator flopped down, settling into a comfortable chair only to stare blankly off into some distant corner, defeated. Sighing deeply, he said, “Now then. Mr. Slaughter. I suppose you are here to collect the map you purchased. I’m afraid I do not have it yet.”

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Mercator Roleplay

• Part 1: The Map that Turned the World
• Part 2: Octavie Goes Missing
• Part 3: Mercator Joins the Radiant