Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part two, chapter 25

Matteo Lo Vecchio, who returned from Messina, brought to Don Raimondo della Motta the new death of Blasco, who seemed to the duke the crown of victory.

He wanted to know how it had gone, and the birro began from his dangerous journey, telling of the attempt of the comrades of arms who had robbed him "of all his", of the arrival in Messina, of the duels of Blasco, of the imprisonment, and of the mysterious dinner that had caused him a deadly colic.

"I couldn't even see him before I left! Poor devil! As soon as he arrived at the gate of the Fortress, the keeper gave me the announcement that Mr. Blasco was dead.

He flaunted such a strong face that the duke smiled. He smiled because he seemed no longer to have anything to fear; with the death of Blasco, according to him, he lacked the main author and engine of the war moved by the Beati Paoli, who would have had no interest in it and would have been easier to take over Don Girolamo and Andrea, to get revenge on them. They had to be set up with a few tricks; the soul of some of the sectarians had to be bad.

A name came to the mind of Matteo Lo Vecchio: Antonino Bucolaro's. Not knowing other affiliates and having experienced that he had not been much guarding and prudent when he had presented himself as an abbot, he seemed to be able to rely on him.

He then put himself on the tracks of the Bucolaro, to become educated of his habits, of his knowledge and relationships and Fr. Raimondo was so sure that he could triumph over the last remnant of his enemies, who no longer considered it necessary to continue the trial against Emanuele. What's the point? It was better to forget the young man in the dungeons of the Castle, as forgot was now Mrs. Francesca in those of the Sant'Offizio.

That's how time spent. Matteo Lo Vecchio occasionally came to give him the account of what he had done, of what he had seen. Small clues. It seemed that the Beati Paoli had disappeared or that the defeats suffered and the fear of other majors had killed them and forced them to abandon the enterprise.'

Nino Bucolaro had left and we did not know where; Don Girolamo Admirata and Andrea had disappeared and perhaps had to leave the kingdom. In fact, the squadrons of the rural companies, the birri of the captain of justice, the drapples of soldiers of infantry and cavalry had traveled, searched the countryside, the farms, the hills, the caves of the territory of Palermo; they had not been able to discover even a vestige of the two fugitives or, as was said, "prosecuti".

Not even one of the usual threatening cards had come to give a clue to Don Raimondo about the existence of the sect! He could write to his wife that everything was quiet and that, if he believed and if he had no commitment to the Court, he could return to Palermo, where the Viceroy expected him, who at the departure not far from Vittorio Amedeo, would take over the government of the island.

One person had tried to break the duke's tranquillity: Pellegra. The young woman, accompanied by her father who became more and more dumb, dared introduce herself to the duke to intercede for Emanuele. Ever since they had arrested him, she had had no more peace; she had gladly lent herself to the attempt of Bagheria, but had not seen any result. It was far from assuming the true reasons why Mrs. Francesca and Emanuele had been arrested and imagined that it was still that incident with the servants: So he believed that long imprisonment was enough to satisfy the Duke of Motta, and that his prayers could move him.

The Duke was in his usual study, intent on reading the reports of the captains of the rural and baronal companies, when he was announced the visit of the painter Bongiovanni and immediately imagined what the purpose of his coming would be. He thought he'd scare him as soon as the painter came in.

Profusing himself in bows and stuttering at every step:

"I am very humble of your Excellency!" he went in, dragging behind Pellegra a little shy and as fearful.

But the duke invested it with a severe frown:

"You are the painter Bongiovanni? And you, chosen to paint the facts of His Majesty's life, whom God looks at, dare to have relationship and traffic with evildoers?"

The Bongiovanni looked dull and did not know what to say. He stuttered:

"The evildoers? Where are the evildoers?..." But Pellegra, following his assumptions, dared a defense:

"Excellency, he's still a young man... And then he was provoked!..."

Don Raimondo asked her to shut up.

"I'm not talking to you!... All I'm saying is: Look out! Take care of yourself! I will send you to Vicaria; and you, I will close you in a retreat! Go! Go! I have nothing to say to you!..."

The painter looked dismayed, not expecting the invective, and shivering at the idea of being locked in jail. He pulled his daughter by the arm, saying:

"Come on... His Excellency is angry... We offended him; of course we offended him!... Your Excellency, forgive me... I didn't want to come, it was her, my daughter. It says: We're going to your Excellency's... But no, I say: Why disturb that good gentleman?... Your Excellency, forgive me... Come on, Pellegra; ask forgiveness, too... Prison, you know? The prison! and for you the retreat; the retreat is less worse than the prison... But the Vicaria!... Oh that's horrible!..."

As he bowed down, pulling his daughter behind him, he left the studio. Pellegra followed him confused, trying some word of excuse that was lost in the flood of fatherly words; and so they both went out, without even having had time to say a word: Nor dared they attempt more; that, indeed, as soon as Pellegra mentioned Mrs. Francesca, Don Vincenzo who had a mind full of prisons and fears began to shout, and prevented her from continuing.

"No, no, no! I don't want to hear about it!... Malefactors, you know? Vicaria, you know... Eh, no, no, it's better to leave; we'd better get out of here. We're going to Rome, where your relatives are. Yes, yes, in Rome!..."

Pellegra followed him crying, with a low face. Alas, it was the last hope left to her and that man destroyed her; poor Emanuele remained in prison and she would never see him again! This tormenting thought strained her to tears.

The people who met them, agitated by fear, wiggling their arms with crazy gestures and shouting inconclusive sentences, she silent and weeping, stopped to look at them; some woman of the people asked:

"What happened to you, young lady?..."

But the Bongiovanni replied:

"The Vicaria, you know? The Vicaria and the retreat... Oh! no; I'll leave for Rome... Yes, for Rome, for Rome, for Rome!"

Shortly after their return home, an algozino came to threaten the painter and the daughter to no longer afford to present to his Excellency the Duke of Motta, except in the only and only case that they had some news to give him around Don Girolamo Ammirata. "Ah? he made the painter like one who didn't understand well; "news? Of course, I'll give them to him... as long as we don't talk about Vicaria!"

Pellegra was afraid; from that day on he segregated his father in his house and did not allow him to go out alone. Nor did Don Raimondo ever see him again. But sometimes, now on one pretext, now with another, Matteo Lo Vecchio went to visit him, who with terrible stories of punishment and always agitating the spectre of prison, torture and death, tried to tear some clues from the mouth of the painter.

Unnecessary efforts. Actually, the painter didn't know anything. He had become so dumb, that if at first Don Girolamo had little faith in him, now he had no more.

Towards the end of July, Gabriella returned to Palermo. The king would have stayed another month in Messina, then, returned for one or two days in the capital of the kingdom, he would be divided for his mainland states, leaving in Sicily a viceroy. This news, which already circulated as dicerie, reconfirmed now, produced disappointments and bad moods; the dream of those who believed in a resurrection of the monarchy, and of seeing the king in that palace that, as the plaque on the porch of the Duomo said, had decorated the royal crown with the august crown, had vanished; for it was evident that the under Prince Sabaudo the kingdom remained in the same political conditions in which it had been under Spanish rule, with this difference that at the time, at least it was joined to a great monarchy, to a state by extension, by power, by historical tradition and politics more important than the kingdom of Sicily; now, instead, it became an appendix of a monarchy of lesser degree: Which hurt the love of Sicilians.

The methods of government introduced by Vittorio Amedeo, which were more rigid and aimed to improve the social and political conditions and to put a stop to the barons' overpower; but they seemed to be violations of privileges or, at least, interruptions of old Camorristic customs, entered into the various branches of the administration, which seemed or had assumed the power of rights, for the respect or tolerance of the Spanish rulers, who were saying here and there, at every least opportunity, that they were better under the crown of Spain, and that the situation had changed into worse. This voice was reawakening old loves and forming a stream of aspirations to the old regime.

Added were the insinuations and suggestions of the clergy, for the matter with Rome, which became more bitter, and it was seen as a war on the spiritual authority of the Pope and as an offense to religion. Already the interdict weighed on two provinces, those of Catania and Girgenti, where neither sacraments were administered nor religious services were celebrated; the few priests and friars, who jealous of the ancient autonomy of the Sicilian church were held faithful to the State, were struck by excommunication and the people did not approach them; the others, the great majority, in order to keep loyal to the Pope, were exiled and expelled from their homes, which made them appear as martyrs and gave ease to the clergy to show how the Court of Spain had behaved towards the Church much more obsequent of the Piedmont Court.

With regard to this, however, there were no lack of supporters: there were new men; men to know, that they would want to renew the old and decrepit kingdom of Sicily. Giacomo Longo, Nicolò Pensabene, Ignazio Perlongo, the Marquis of Giarratana, Francesco d'Aguirre, Giambattista Caruso and others, jealous of the primacy of civil authority in the affairs of the State, were among them: and there were the ambitious ones, who aimed to ascend to the highest places and among them was Don Raimondo Albamonte.

Donna Gabriella, returning from Messina, had brought the beautiful promise that the Marquis of St. Thomas had included the name of the duke among those of the characters that the king intended to lead with him to Turin.

If Don Raimondo was happy about this news, it is not to be said; following the king in Turin meant two things: to enter into the graces of the Court, and therefore offices of greater responsibility; to free oneself, without the opinion of fleeing, from the possible harassment of the Beati Paoli, of whom he suspected and feared the most violent and most dangerous rise. Never was he so kind to woman Gabriella, as when he learned from her this news. She held her hands and told her that she was grateful, and that she was not only the most beautiful lady in the kingdom, but also the finest and brilliant diplomat.

"You will come to Turin with me and eclipse all the ladies of that capital. I want to buy you more joys and have your golden carriage and gala litter carried..."

Donna Gabriella didn't answer. A slight pallor covered her face to this announcement. In Turin? Going to Turin, too? Why? She was not a lady of the Court, and now that she had saved, as she believed, her husband, who had removed the danger from her home, thought he had nothing left to share with the Court; nor did she intend to become the lover of the Marquis of St. Thomas, who for a moment had dreamed of being almost the second queen of Sicily! Other ideas had entered into his mobile and contradictory spirit: secret aspirations, hidden, tormenting and acute desires, and perhaps that departure of the husband entered into those secret aspirations, perhaps he saw in the departure of him a liberation: deliverance from a dark, grave and oppressive thought like a nightmare. Doubt, suspicion, repugnance: She couldn't look at her husband without feeling inside herself all these feelings reawakening and fighting.

Don Raimondo followed his ambitious thought too much, to realize that the proposal had not aroused any joy in his wife's soul: He interpreted silence as acceptance or, in any case, as submission, and from that day he began preparing for departure.

Vittorio Amedeo left Messina on 29 August, by sea, with two galleys, seven English vessels and four of Malta, and arrived in Palermo on 2 September; the day before he arrived from Messina Count Mattei elected Viceroy of Sicily. Neither the viceroy nor the king landed; the king went down to the ground only on the morning of the 3rd to hear the Mass in the Cathedral and keep kissing hands.

Two days later, with a fleet of twelve vessels, greeted by the safety of the ramparts, he left.

Don Raimondo, appointed consultant of Sicily in the council of the king of Turin, followed the sovereign.

Before leaving, in his farewell to Count Mattei, he explained to him what he had done to destroy the sect and concluded that there were still two affiliates to be taken: Don Girolamo Admirata and Andrea Lo Bianco. He pointed out and recommended Matteo Lo Vecchio to him.

He left alone; Gabriella woman, or fiction or reality, said she was sick, and stubbornly refused to go to Turin and threatened to break it. Don Raimondo was afraid and was content with a vague promise, and left it in Palermo. Their separation had neither tears nor kisses. He recommended only one thing:

"Keep close to the Viceroy, as you stay, and don't forget to encourage him to continue the search for those bad guys. You know how important this is."