Meeting the Master of Deception — Divine Comedy

Fraud wears a trustworthy face. Geryon rises from the abyss at Virgil's signal: kind human countenance, serpent all below, scorpion sting at the tail. His hide is painted more intricately than any Tartar cloth or Arachne weave. Virgil sends Dante ahead to observe the souls on the burning sand while he negotiates passage. The usurers sit shifting their hands against fire and vapor, purses with coat-of-arms hanging at their necks. Dante reads the crests: yellow with azure lion, red with white goose, white with azure swine. The man with the swine purse speaks: he is a Paduan; Vitaliano will join him here; the Florentines mock him waiting for the noble knight who will bring the three-beaked pouch. He lolls his tongue like an ox. Dante returns. Virgil is already seated on Geryon's haunch. He tells Dante to mount and be bold; shame beats the terror down. Virgil holds him, calls to Geryon: wide gyres, easy descent, remember the unusual burden. The beast detaches like a vessel backing from shore, stretches out like an eel, gathers the air with retractile claws. Dante's fear matches Phaeton dropping the reins or Icarus feeling the wax go. Wind rises from below. Flames and wailing come into view. Geryon wheels down slowly like a tired falcon returning to its lord, and sets them at the base of the deep-furrowed rock. He springs away like an arrow from the string.