Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

prologue, chapter 9

Where were you going? He did not know it yet: the only thought she had formulated was to flee to steal himself and his creature from the sure death, which she had seen flashing on their head. So far, he had to move away from that house where the crime was lurking: then he would have thought. She would ask for hospitality in the house of some ladies, where she would go to the province with her relatives.

Used to go out always in porterina or carriage, woman Aloisia knew little the streets; at night, the darkness made them at all unrecognizable, so that going, she did not follow her itinerary, but took at random this or that road that, in her belief, took her better from the "tower of Montalbano."

She had come so far to the Chief's crucifix. In front of it it stretched black and without end the road of St. Augustine; on the right he descended down the road of St. Cosmos. She bent to the right. The cold was blowing her naked legs; the mud invaded her slippers, but she didn't take care of them. Stringing her Emanuele, to whom, in order to chet the vagitives, she had given to suck, ran alone, lost, with her naked head, ill dressed, surrounded by fears, on that road whose side alleys, black and deep, increased her terror.

Some stray dog raised up at that race, growled, barked behind them, chased her for a while, raising other distant latrates. She felt like being chased by a suit of invisible dogs, in the night that clogged her heart and surrounded her person.

His courage began to falter. Where were you going?

Now a network of roads spread out before the sides: unknown roads, which, to his excited and moved imagination, appeared full of threats and dangers. He had lost a slipper in the mud and walked with his bare foot, limping, tearing him between the pieces scattered along the street.

It began to rain.

Then he was afraid for the little one: how to defend him?

The houses were closed, immersed in sleep. A church was on his right.

He raised his eyes to the iron cross that stood over it and, gathering his strength, cried out in the middle of the night: "Help!... Help!..."

The voice went out to her in a single tongue and she felt faint; she closed her eyes and fell out. Emanuele wandered desperately...

Two men wrapped in broad garments came out of an alley next to them; one of them held a lantern in his hand to lighten the way. At the turn of the corner, they saw that body on the ground, from among whose garments came out those vagites that had surprised them.

The one carrying the lantern turned the light into it.

"It's a woman!" he exclaimed.

"Some poor girl in the countryside who comes to starve in the city," added the other.

They bowed down and observed it better.

"Hell!" exclaimed the first "is not a peasant; look: fine linen... That this is a crime?"

They examined it; no, there was no trace of violence. How come that woman, who, to the features, to the hands, to the underwear appeared a lady, was at that hour as wolves, abandoned, unconscious, in a street, half dressed, with a little girl wrapped in very fine bands?

Here is a mystery!" said the first.

"In the meantime" added the other "we can't leave her here on the floor..."

Emanuele kept wandering.

The first said: "Take the little one, poor man will be cold..."

The other took it off, waved it a little, wrapped it in the cloak to quiet it, while the first, leaning over woman Aloisia, took it by the hand gently shaking it.

"Ma'am!... ma'am!... For God's sake, it's assiduous!... You should take her somewhere."

"Let's take her to my house. Wait, let me bring the baby and I'll help you lift it up."

He went back into the alley and returned shortly afterwards. "Come on," he said, "let's lift it."

They took one from the feet, the other from the armpits, and took it away; at about ten steps from the corner of the alley there was an open door, and on the threshold a young woman, holding with one arm Emanuele, with the other holding up a lantern to make light.

How she saw woman Aloisia exanime, bruised, exclaimed with sincere sorrow: "Oh, poor girl!"

They climbed up the stone staircase, crossed two small rooms, and laid Aloisian woman on a bed.

"Let me do it," said the woman, "it's my business now: rather you warm up some diapers and some good wine..."

Twenty minutes later, woman Aloisia opened her eyes stunned and unconscious; but she sensed confusedly that she was in an unknown place; she looked at those three people, who standing around the bed seemed to spy on her every movement.

"Ma'am, ma'am," said the woman, "how are you feeling?"

It seemed that the sound of that voice received it; he fixed his eyes on the woman, at first with suspicion, then with a bewilderment: suddenly the bed was lifted up, with his eyes barred, his face forged by a sudden deep anguish and cried out:

"Emanuele!... my creature!... they stole my creature!. Emanuele!"

"Here she is, madam..." the woman gently said, showing her the little one, to whom she had lovingly carried the breasts, whom the poor creature greedily evoked. "Here she is; she was hungry, poor thing!..."

Donna Aloisia almost tore it out of her arms, stormed it with kisses, flooded it with tears and fell with him on her cheeks in a crying crisis, suffocated by convulsive hiccups.

Those three good people watched her moved, silently, thinking. Something terrible must have happened to her. Who was that? Did Donde come? The woman tried to console her; she sniffed a bottle of vinegar, crushed it on her temples.

"Don't cry...! Calm down, ma'am;... be patient!..."

Donna Aloisia lifted her tearful face, and this time with an expression of growing amazement. Where was he? She had never seen that room with the painted blue walls; she had never seen those paintings painted on glass, closed in golden wooden frames; nor that walnut drawer with bronze handles, straight on the thin, curved four feet... What about that bed? Whose bed was that tall and wide wrought iron bed, with a white muslin pavilion? Then he looked at his guests. That young woman, with black hair, brunette, pleasant but energetic, was not Maddalena; those men with a slightly hard face of which one much younger than the other, she had never seen them. Where was he? How was it there? He didn't remember anything. A new fear took hold of her, as at the arrival of a terrible thought.

He cried, "Who are you? Why did you bring me here? What do you want?"

The woman tried to reassure her.

"Don't be afraid... We're good people who don't like them... Get some rest, poor thing! She was so intimidated!... Here in the warm, and that little creature will also be refreshed..."

But Aloisias did not understand: those words resonated dizzyingly in her ear, like the sound of a hundred bells. He looked more and more stunned and terrified; a great tremor went through her limbs. By beating his teeth, stuttering strange words, he fell on his pillow.

The older of the two laid a hand on her forehead: "Burn!" she said.

"What if we send for the doctor?" the woman objected.

The man shook the boss.

"A day's work. It would be better to know who he is first. You never know if we can get into any trouble, all the more so because it's obviously a lady.

"Sure there's a mystery..."

"But we have done no harm, indeed..." the young woman observed.

"It is true," said the old man, "but without wanting to do so we have thrown ourselves into some intrigue of lords, who would not like to have witnesses. Charity is a good thing, but caution is needed... And then... who knows?"

Perhaps he followed a secret thought, and looked at the young man with a particular expression, which he seemed to understand perfectly.

A moment of silence happened. Donna Aloisia remained immobile with her eyes closed, without giving any other sign of life, except her breathing that became more and more troublesome and difficult. Emanuele fell asleep. An overwhelming sense of sadness weighed on the room.

Then the elder said, "Leave her alone, and above all..."

With an expressive gesture it meant to the woman who needed to keep her mouth shut.

"I'll be back about fourteen hours. We'll see what we can do..."

"Do you want me to accompany you?" asked the young man, seeing the other taking his cloak and hat.

"You don't have to. Give me the lantern. After all, I am in good company."

He beat his hips; beyond the sword, in fact, to the swelling of the farsetto, it could be recognized that he had two guns stuck to the belt. He took the lantern, took his leave, and went away: the two young men remained in the room; evidently husband and wife, sitting here and there, looking silently at woman Aloisia...

At that very hour, Don Raimondo Albamonte accompanied by Giuseppico and two other servants ran to raise the city captain, to report that a gang of murderers had attacked the palace that night, strangled the waitress of woman Aloisia and kidnapped the Duchess with the child.

An hour later, the captain and a bunch of birri and officers invaded the "tower of Montalbano" that was up in fearful discovery; no one had heard noises, no cry had been heard; no clue. Don Raimondo was asked if he had any suspicions, he said that only one person could doubt: an ancient servant of the dead duke, fired for a few days, a certain Andrea, escaped from prison, and happened at that time in Palermo.

At dawn the great news magnified, enriched with fantastic and unfailing details, circulated throughout the city; teams of chivalry were unleashed for the countryside; the Viceroy himself, asked for information, wanted to direct the investigation of justice, since they were such remarkable characters. From all things there was no talk of anything else, with a dismay, a great amazement, not already because of the fact in itself, but because of the audacity of the evildoers, who had been able to carry out the misdeeds to the detriment of a family of powerful lords.

While the squadrons went through and searched the countryside, and that the extraordinary couriers left for the nearby cities and villages, Aloisia woman agonized in that bed not hers, in the heavenly room, without having regained knowledge. He was agonizing in silence and mystery.

The old man, returning as he had promised, brought in that room, before that bed, the great news that ran through the city; and all three, he and the two spouses, looked at each other with a silent and meaningful amazement, surprised by the same thought, and looked at Aloisia woman.

"If it were her!" said the woman, "it would not be useful to go to the city captain, to tell him..."

The sharp look of the old man stung her word.

"Why are they arresting us? No. No. Besides, I don't see it clear. There's a mystery here... maybe some terrible intrigue... Do you remember the words of this poor woman? "My creature was stolen." Who would try to steal it from him? Who could have been interested?

He bowed down, felt Aloisia's wrist, and murmured, "I don't think she has for a long time."

And turning to the young man, he said, "Go and call Father Gregory... bring holy oil..."

The young man left.

About twenty-one hour woman Aloisia breathed, without having said a word. for Father Gregorio, for the undertakers and for the chaplain of the church of St. Christopher al Capo (now destroyed church, where she was buried) she was but a distant relative of the young woman, who came from the province to cure herself of a disease.

When the confreres of St. Christopher took away the coffin, the young woman took the little Emanuele in her arms, and kissed him with tears in her eyes.

The husband said, "Poor orphan, here it is only in the world!..."

"Only?" said the woman, "and we're not here? Let's consider having twins."

And the young man said, What then shall we do?

"Wait and shut up," answered the old man.

His voice had the authority of an order; the young man bowed his head and caressed the head of Emanuel.

And as he began to wander, his wife gave him his breast, murmuring, "Take, poor creature, there will be some for you too."

END OF THE PROLOG