Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part two, chapter 12

On the morning of April 19, Vittorio Amedeo and Anna d'OrlÈans left for Messina. The royal procession came out of Porta Nuova, along the road that runs along the ditches: the king on horseback, preceded, surrounded, followed by the guards, by the court dignitaries, by the Senate, by the nobility: the queen in litter, accompanied by her ladies.

Donna Gabriella wasn't there: suddenly sick, he asked the Sovereign permission to wait for her in Palermo or to reach her in Messina in a few days; what Anna d'OrlÈans had willingly granted her, jealous as the king was, and suspicious of the beauty of the Duchess. But Vittorio Amedeo had been a little annoyed and, assuming that in that sudden absence there was a little 'the hand of Don Raimondo, he had not been able to hide his bad mood, in the coldness with which he had welcomed him. The king, for the advice of St. Thomas, and also for his own interest, had invested Fr. Raimondo of the office of Vicar General of the Kingdom, to purge him of all the evildoers of the city and the countryside, dispensing him from following him to Messina, as he had already thought. Now she did not repent of this, but believed that if she had forced the Duke to accompany him, the Duchess could not avoid it.

The procession passed through a crowd of people flocked to enjoy the show. The ramparts of Porta Montalto and Porta S. Agata, the curtain that stretched between each other, were full of curious. Here and there were applauses, not very expansive, but courteous and spontaneous.

At the Admiral's bridge the king dismissed the Senate and the nobility and remained only the gentlemen and the court dignitaries. The first stop was Bagheria. The prince of Butera had recently built a holiday there, truly magnificent, and had begged the king to stop to accept a breakfast. For this reason he and the princess had preceded the rulers, and with a royal luxury worthy of the circumstance, they were waiting for them. The prince had thought of everything; in addition to the table of the king and queen, he had in other rooms, according to the rank of nobility and the office, arranged other tables for the dignitaries, the gentlemen, the officers of the State, the ladies of the queen and away to the servitude. Outside the villa, on a floor, he had the tables prepared for the guards. Wherever you could see the richness and magnificence of the powerful, but the royal table, for the profusion and beauty of the silvereries, valuable works of art, of which some of the Renaissance, gave vertigo.

The journey to Bagheria had nothing remarkable; the view of those rustic countryside, rich in a varied and luxuriant flora and in that smelly season of all the scents, had rejoiced the king, who, amazed by so much beauty, expressed his impressions to the lords who surrounded him.

"Say a little: If these campaigns were in the hands of tireless and diligent peasants like our Piedmontese, wouldn't this be the first country in the world?"

"We should first make these campaigns safe; there are too many evildoers. Your Majesty has already wisely given the first provisions and with his fatherly wisdom he will truly be the redeemer of the kingdom."

"Too bad he's too far from Turin!..."

Bagheria was not even a village at that time; it was a place of delight, where some lords erected holiday houses in that baroquely precious style that was in vogue in the early eighteenth century. The population was therefore made up of peasants and the servants of those houses and all these people, although not numerous, had crowded on the road near the villas, between two or three triumphal arches of fronds.

Before the first bow there were the prince of Butera with the princess and two rows of feudal militias, who shot their archibugos to safety, while the crowd applauded and the two bells of the small parish sounded out.

But he was not yet the king who came under the first bow, when a young woman fell to her knees in the middle of the street, waving a sheet of folded paper, and crying out:

"Grace! Your Majesty, please!..."

Vittorio Amedeo held the horse; the whole procession stopped with a sudden and broken motion: And the captain of the guard beckoned to the king, and took that sheet of paper out of the hand of the maiden, and put it to the king: and the prince of Butera, astonished and angry, that strangers might enter into his possessions, and trouble the solemnity of the reception which he had prepared, came near unto the maiden, the obvious intention to have her beaten by her lackeys.

"Who are you? Who gave you this permission? Take her and teach her a lesson!"

And he turned to the king, who had given the card to his almighty man, and added with an accent of deep regret:

"Your Majesty forgive the audacity of this maiden, who is not of the district, nor do I know where she came from. I'll teach you the duties you have..."

"Leave, let go; it will probably be some unhappy person who needs our protection. My house never rejected the poor people..."

But the maiden, who had stood up, red in her face for the concussion, responded promptly.

"It is not for me that I come, Your Majesty; I need nothing; I implore justice for others... Forgive me, Your Majesty, and forgive me, Your Excellency, if I have been bold, but..."

"What's your name?" asked the king smiling and admiring the pretty vibe of the pretty girl and made more beautiful by the emotion.

"Pellegra Bongiovanni," he replied, "I am the painter's daughter and my father is there, there he is..."

In a group of people, in fact, there was a man in town dress, who smiled with silly air, and made big bows, and it seemed that he too wanted to run, and that they kept him alive. The prince recognized him:

"Don Vincenzo Bongiovanni?"

What could have happened to him? What grace were you begging for and for whom? It would have been more convenient, even more necessary to turn to him, who was the master of the house, and perhaps he would have judged the opportunity to give that supplication to the king... It was said that the painter was a bit of an idiot, and that alone could excuse his recklessness. In any case, since Vittorio Amedeo had kindly welcomed the maiden, the prince went back into spite and, without caring for anything else, uttered the words of welcome he had prepared for the occasion, begging their majesty to deign to accept hospitality and to honor their presence in the prince's house and to enjoy his servitude.

It was one of those discourses shaped on the same mould by the courtesy of the times, which the king listened to with the suspense desired by the circumstance, in contrast to the spontaneous benevolence shown shortly before towards Pellegra.

Meanwhile, the maiden had pulled back, approaching her father and that group of men, who, taking advantage of the confusion of that moment, in which all were busy for the king's entry into the villa, fled among the orange groves that insole the valley.

Soon no one thought of the maiden and the accident, the royality of that reception having made to forget that episode, which at the end had nothing new and exceptional.

Meanwhile, the almighty had given a reading to Pellegra's supplication and her face had taken all the expressions of astonishment. Approaching the Marquis of St. Thomas, he said to him:

"It's not my business; I think it's more about yours; but it's really amazing."

It was enough for the Marquis of St. Thomas to take a look at the sheet of paper, to understand what it was:

"I know what it is," he said; "it is the second plea; but..."

A few words having drawn his attention, he began to read carefully, and even his face showed a great astonishment...

"God damn it, damn it, damn it!... Here people say things that seem incredible!..."

When the journey was resumed and in the open solitary and wild countryside, the king, deposed the label, began to speak familiarly with the dignitaries of his court, and asked his almighty man:

"Well, monsignor, what does that maiden beg?"

"Majesty, what contains the supplication enters the duties of Mr. Marquis of St. Thomas, rather than mine; it would be not charity, but things that affect the justice of your Majesty... if they are true..."

"What about the Marquis of St. Thomas?"

"I say, Majesty, that if the things you are told were credible, you should no longer trust people whose zeal and uprightness your Majesty has relied upon."

"You raise my curiosity: So what is it?" "He accuses the Duke of the Motta of black crimes..."

"The Duke?"

"Yes, majesty; he would be the usurper of the estate to the detriment of the rightful heir... and more would be guilty of the death of the Duchess, of the disappearance of the rightful heir, of the death of a maid of the Duchess and of other crimes, to cover up which he would have imprisoned and condemned several people, and yesterday morning, by virtue of the full powers granted him by your Majesty, he had the wife and nephew of such admired, sought also by the police, or, according to the supplication, by the persecution of the Duke of Motta. This is said in the supplication; but..."

"And something to be amazed!... Is there anything else?..."

"But I must confess to your Majesty that I had received another petition from the wife of this admired woman, who begged for an audience. I didn't think I should talk to your Majesty about it, because I understand that the admired saying is one of the leaders of that secret association of the Beati Paoli, which so many slanders have committed and committed... and against whom precisely the Duke of Motta has turned his forces..."

"And do you believe?"

"I believe, Sire, that the Duke of Motta is a skilled man and that he can render your Majesty great services, especially now that we have the matter with Rome on our arms and I believe that, due to his inflexibleness, he has many enemies..."

"So you'd think it was slander..."

"Against the ministers they usually invent, and at least one can believe that in the accusations against the duke there must be fantasies and exaggerations; but it would not be bad, perhaps, to investigate a little..."

The king stood a minute in silence; then he asked:

"Whose supplication is signed?"

"Francesca Ammirata..."

"And that maiden, the painter's daughter, is she related to this admired woman?"

"I don't know..."

"Well, Marquis, you will inform yourselves of everything."

"As soon as we get to Termini, I will give the appropriate orders..."

"And you will first interrogate that admired..."

"Your Majesty will be obeyed."

Francesca Ammirata and Emanuele had been arrested, as the Marquis of St. Thomas had reported, the day before, by order of Don Raimondo and led into the secrets> of Castellamare, as in a safer place. The Duke thought that this was the safest way to have Don Girolamo and Andrea in his hands, especially the latter, of whom he was in terrible fear. The arrest had put the entire district of the Cape above, but more than the arrest in itself, the place where they had led the arrested; because beyond the nobles, who had privileged neighborhoods, the castle was led only by the guilty of serious crimes and for which special surveillance was necessary. But what seemed to be sorry was Pellegra. The poor girl, when she saw Emanuele with his wrists tied, among the birri, burst into tears; but the young man rebuked her:

"What is this crying?... I'm not a child, and I'm not afraid of anything!"

He left proudly, with his upright head, with a bold, indignant air, comforting Mrs. Francesca, who, pale, with her lips tightened, barely restrained her emotion; only when she saw herself alone, closed in a dark, humid, fetid room, only then she was almost afraid and felt her heart tightened.

On the same day the news of that arrest came to Don Girolamo. He was terrified of it. He punched himself in the forehead for despair, shouting:

"For my sake!... I should have expected it!... I had to keep them safe!... Now what? Now what? What will happen?... You have to act! You have to act!..."

Andrea was no less dismayed: With tight fists, pale but murky and threatening, he walked up and down without saying a word.

That night the alleys adjacent to the church of Santa Maruzza saw mysterious shadows crawling along the walls of the houses and disappear suddenly. There was an extraordinary session, which neither Don Girolamo nor Andrea lacked. What did they say? What deluded the mysterious court?

Pellegra was waiting for the king in Bagheria. But while she was shouting: "Grace! Grace!", Fr. Raimondo, accompanied by the tax audience, went to the Castle, in the courtroom and ordered that Mrs. Francesca lead him ahead.