Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part two, chapter 21

King Vittorio had entered the city of Faro for about a week, when Blasco returned from Catania to Messina, after reviewing Randazzo, Castiglione and the countries of his childhood, without finding any sign, a trace of his origin and his early years. The same memory of Father John and of Father Bonaventura had turned off, and of the terrible earthquake that had destroyed Catania there was no trace left. He had returned to Messina with his soul saddened by so many memories, and wondered if he was not yet that Blasco from Castiglione who did not have tomorrow, and lived of the moment, and joked with death, and laughed at everything for the natural playfulness of the spirit.

No. Something had penetrated his soul and filled it with that vague and indistinguishable sadness, which is like the foam of hidden and unknown pains. All that had come, unwittingly discovering the knowledge of the world that he had previously seen outside, dismayed him. A crowd of people were buzzing around him and each seemed to bring within itself something mysterious, dark, like the sign of destiny: the Duke of Albamonte, that Giuseppico, who had known and of whom he had ignored the complicity in the displeasure of the duke; Gabriella woman, who had no knowledge of his duties; father Bonaventura so closed in a secret thought; Coriolano so fine and sometimes inconceivable; Matteo Lo Vecchio, so mischievous; Girolamo Ammirata, Andrea, that poor Michele Barabino, the Messinese, the prince of Iraci, who though he was valorous, rich, not ugly, of a great family, could not assert himself... and then that grandson of the admired that he had taken from the servants of Don Raimondo, and that young woman who was always beside him, and then the monachella, the little educant, of whom he always saw in the underworld of his soul, without glowing his eyes; and then those masked men.... all those people, who in a short time had entered his life, who had penetrated, which he had seen him, when he had taken him, and had suffered him without his soul, without glowing; All those people were perturbing him, as if each of them were pouring into his soul something of his own mystery and sadness.

Oh, no! He was another Blasco and would not have been surprised if he had discovered in his hair some early silver threads. But what weighed most to him was the terrible secret he had come to possess. Several times he wondered if it wouldn't be better to destroy those overwhelming evidence, that they could roll Don Raimondo's head on stage, but one thought had held him back: By what right would he destroy those documents, which were all he could give back to an innocent man his rights? Wouldn't your generosity to a villain be a crime? And would he not have made himself an accomplice?

Rather... return them to the Beati Paoli? This would have been his duty, for those cards belonged to them and evidently Matteo Lo Vecchio had stolen them from Don Girolamo Ammirata. His obligation was to return those cards to those to whom they belonged, and to whom they had cost those who know what and how many sacrifices; but he understood that the sect would make a terrible use of them, and this repudiated him, seeming to be complicit in the mysterious and dark blows of that terrible court. He had another idea: to write and confide all things to Coriolano della Floresta, for whom, on the other hand, he had no secrets; but he had banished it not without regret, thinking that this was not his secret and could not dispose of it.

Thus the documents remained to him; heavy and disgusting concern, of which he regretted having been by force of events the depositary. And meanwhile he had returned to Messina, without really to be able to give reasons for this resolution. Was it a vague and indistinguishable feeling of some danger that could threaten Gabriella woman? Was it interesting to find out what Matteo Lo Vecchio had come to do in Messina? Was it that kind of instinct that attracted him to adventures? Probably all these reasons entered together vague, confused in his resolution; and meanwhile he had found himself on the coastal road, towards Acireale, as if someone had guided him to you.

He found Messina full of royal guards, gentlemen, Piedmontese lords, who seemed the masters of the city for the almost insolent ways they used, perhaps because the past events still painted it in the minds as a country of rebels, to whom there was no obligation of respect. And so there was in the air itself as a feeling of mistrust, and sometimes also of latent hostility.

At the walk of the Palace the knights of the court rode with a certain soldier's bravado, throwing gallant words to the women who, wrapped in the capes, went to breathe the fresh air of the sea, and enjoy the enchanting spectacle of the Strait and the Calabrian mountains suffused with a purple light; and they looked with petulant gallantry at the ladies in their carriages.

Donna Gabriella was also walking in a carriage, but this time she was not alone; next to the door she was riding a knight, in which Blasco recognized the Marquis of St. Thomas: He noticed, as an expert man, that the Marquis' attitude was that of a man who knows he can hope for something more than just a friendship and that woman Gabriella smiled and looked with that civetteria that encourages more feats.

Passing before Blasco, and being aware of him, it seemed to the young woman that she flaunted a greater civettery. Far from feeling anything that resembled jealousy, he had a sense of pity, as if in that game he saw a debauchery, a slipping down to a bassura of shame and shame.

Again, the Marquis of St. Thomas turned to look at Blasco as if the Duchess had indicated it to him.

"Speaking of me," he thought; and this idea stung him; instead of standing as a dislike to see and show himself, he moved so as to meet the carriage and, looking down at the Marquis of St. Thomas, greeted Gabriella woman with that singing air that he could sometimes assume.

Blasco was far from assuming what changes had occurred during his journey to Catania. He ignored the baits between Matteo Lo Vecchio and the Duchess, and the Marquis of St. Thomas.

Donna Gabriella had been one of the few ladies who had gone to receive the kings at Porta Imperiale, and the finding of her had a little surprised the king and the queen; but the one and the other, each for a different and particular reason, showed themselves so cold, that Gabriella woman did not have the courage to show up at the palace, where she understood that it would not be received. However, the news from Matteo Lo Vecchio, the letter from her husband, who, with the other directed to the Marquis of St. Thomas, had miraculously escaped in search of Blasco, pressed so much that she asked for an audience with the Marquis of St. Thomas, hoping to make him an ally and a means to arrive otherwise to the king.

The Marquis of St. Thomas was no longer young; perhaps for him began what is called the second youth, which gave him some gallant desires. In Palermo he had known the Duchess and had heard some stories about her; the Duchess seemed beautiful and desirable to him, but the courtesan end had from the beginning understood that the king had applied the ban on hunting there, and had withdrawn. Now, however, that the king had passed over and the hunt was open to all, he welcomed with visible joy the prayer of woman Gabriella and answered her with a polite note, who was happy to be able to pay her homage to her bondage.

She was a pretty diplomat and was able to gain the Marquis' soul and cooperation, who promised that she would obtain an audience of the king for Matteo Lo Vecchio, after, of course, a bite with the birro, to agree the terms of the hearing. And, either because of the influence of the smiles and the graceful civetterie of woman Gabriella, or because Matteo Lo Vecchio had made a very dark picture and had shown the need to break any delay and proceed decisively against the sect, the Marquis of St. Thomas in his daily relationship to the king spoke to him for a long time about the Duke of Motta, and he returned to him the letter brought by Matteo Lo Vecchio, who, if his Majesty liked, could have revealed precious details about the efforts and successes of the duke and the infinite ranks stretched by the infamous sect; a line that for the honor of the throne and the tranquility of the kingdom, had to be broken at once.

The king seemed shaken by all that news. He read the letter of the Duke, who, while exposing all that he had done and where he had come, showed with respectful subjection all the evil that came from the arrest of the trial to the good cause. He did not take any resolution and granted The hearing. The Marquis then added:

"There is a lady of quality who desires to humiliate her devotion at the foot of Your Majesty..."

The king understood and said with indifference:

"Ah! Mrs. Duchess?"

"Who is deeply grieved that she could not enjoy the goodness of her royal masters."

Vittorio Amedeo did not answer and changed his speech. But in the evening, as there was a conversation at the palace, Gabriella, a woman, came to be dazzling with beauty and surrounded by all the seductions that a wise civetteria could suggest, and she knew how to simulate such a lively and sincere pain, such a true shyness, such a profound mortification, that Queen Anna seemed to be moved by it and the king did not doubt that, if the Duchess had not followed the Court, she had to have been certain for some legitimate and insurmountable impediment.

After that time the Duchess no longer went to the Palace for some time, feeling that, now, her disappearance would be noticed and that she would be almost invited. In fact, the Marquis of St. Thomas asked her why she had no longer appeared at the Court, and confessed to her that the queen herself had had the goodness to ask for her. He was quite cooked of a woman Gabriella, from whom he still hoped something more than mere smiles and silent promises, to realize the end smile that stood on her lips at those words. The Duchess could say she almost won her case and regained, if not the favor, the benevolence of the Court.

The king, meanwhile, had received the birro and had shown him his satisfaction by giving him money to reward his good services. Matteo Lo Vecchio had been careful not to talk to the king about the stolen documents and the adventure that occurred to him on the journey, and for a scrupulousness or for cunning he had also silenced the part that Blasco had had had had to you from Castiglione; or rather, he had silenced the name of the young man and mentioned only to a knight who protected the Beati Paoli, to whom he kept behind to collect evidence and arrest him.

Things were at this point when Blasco returned from Catania to Messina and met Gabriella, to whom the presence of the young man now displeased, not only because he feared that he could compromise her, but also because Matteo Lo Vecchio had told her that Blasco had prevented him from arresting the leaders of the Beati Paoli and that, with all certainty, he was one of the sect.

She ignored why Blasco was in Messina; her health and also, - why deny it? a fund of passion that she had felt for that young man, cut off so violently and unexpectedly, and in a way that had deeply hurt her in her own love, in her desires, in her hopes, this remnant of the ancient flame had led her to assume that Blasco had come for her. Now the story of Matteo Lo Vecchio oriented his assumptions differently, being able to see in the knight also a secret agent of the sect who came to watch her. Either way, Blasco became an embarrassing, if not dangerous, neighbor, and she wanted to turn him away. I hate, now, he brought him no more; the time had, if not healed, certainly softened the plague: She did not feel that a great regret, a great bitterness for her dream vanished: Perhaps the assassination, of which Blasco had not been a victim for a while, had helped to attenuate his hatred; and the jealousy, which had risen in her against her stepdaughter, had reawakened something of her ancient desires. But these feelings now faded, changed, yielded to others, in that changing and emotional spirit; for a goal had been set, and Blasco could be an obstacle or, worse still, a probability of failure and a danger, it was necessary to get rid of it.

How? Send him away, for example, far, far... Other means did not dare to think of it, however sure and decisive they might seem: if she had been able to lend her ear in a rush of anger and vengeance and encourage the princess of Iraki in his purposes, she had remorse after that, and in cold mind she could not think of such devices.

He had pointed this out to the Marquis of St. Thomas, as an adventurer, who could have sent himself to fight the barbaric corsairs, or in the wars of the empire... But the Marquis, to whom the Duchess's past relations with Blasco da Castiglione were not unknown, had seen in the young man an ancient rival and, worse, a fearsome competitor. As a man of the world he knew that nothing is more dangerous than an ancient lover returning. He also thought, therefore, that it was good to take the words of the Duchess as a formal desire and answered:

"We'll see. It won't be hard."

Blasco strayed a little sad, but with the pace of a man sure of himself. He entered for one of the many doors or outlets opened under the Palace, in the street of the Maestranza or the Banchi, gallivanting a bit, but following his thoughts. Matteo Lo Vecchio, the Duchess, the documents were enough to occupy his mind and make him distracted; so distracted that, without wanting to do so, he struck a knight who came out of a door at that point.

"Malcreate!" cried he, fixing his clothes.

Blasco stopped pale, and said,

"I thought I hit a gentleman, and I was going to apologize, sir; but now that I know who you are, I find it perfectly useless to do so..."

And he turned his back on him; but the other ran after him, puffing:

"Lord, I am not used to tolerate..."

"I'm pleased" Blasco interrupted.

"You'll agree with me..."

"When you want..."

"Search for a witness; I'll wait for you at four o'clock on the Cappuccini floor..."

"She's okay."

Blasco went away thinking:

"Here's something to do; a king's guard, there's no harm!"

In fact, she was one of the bodyguards, young gentlemen, who did not really shine out of spite, and who had raised up in Palermo, as in Turin, some protests. You had to find a witness. Where? He knew no one in Messina except the Duchess, who certainly could not assist him in that office.

"To the first knight I will meet, I will ask for this favor," he said to himself: - I'm sure I'll meet some of them on this street or on the Duomo Square."

It started in that direction. At the corner of the square there was an inn, with a small inn above, meeting with foreign travelers, frequent then for the importance of the port. On the door of the inn stood another bodyguard with a gentleman of the forest, and both of them, with their wide legs, the bold air, seemed to have fun insulting the citizens who passed through. When Blasco arrived in front of the tavern, a young people, wrapped in the cloak that only discovered her eyes, rushed over with her head down. The gentleman stood before her with open arms:

"Oh, little Saracen!... you'll show us if you're beautiful, parbleu!"

And he tried to find out her face. The woman sent a cry of terror, tried to escape him, but the guard went through her retreat:

"Ah, don't run away, savage!..."

Laughing, both of them tried to take off her cloak, holding it, muttering it, making the sound of a scared little bird again. But Blasco stopped the gentleman by his arm:

"Lord," he said: "It's not your equal..."

He turned like a fury. The people took advantage of it to escape.

"Who gives you the right to meddle?" cried the gentleman, with a strong foreign accent.

"The respect that is due to women, sir, and to which no good knight must lack!..."

Then the king's guard came before, insolently:

"Would you like to teach us what the duties of a knight are?"

"If I had the habit of teaching anything, sir," said Blasco without losing his tranquillity, "I would not be fed up with what is most necessary to a master: the whip."

"What do you mean?..."

"Nothing more and nothing less than what you'll like to understand..."

The gentleman was puffing:

"Lord," he exclaimed; "Do you not have any interest in your throat? You want to play it? I am at your disposal..."

"You owe me an explanation too..." he added.

"I won't deny it to you. When you will..." said Blasco.

"Today at 4:00..."

"I ask forgiveness; at four o'clock I am engaged with another knight of the royal guard on the esplanade of the Capuchins. I beg you to favor there for four and a half."

He left, leaving the two new opponents who looked surprised, and thinking: "Now I have three on my arms: Let's go find this blessed witness."