Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part three, chapter 13

Antonino Bucolaro could not sleep all night, thinking about those documents, of which, until then, he had never known what they contained. He was one of the most active among the Beati Paoli, but he had not yet reached the highest degrees, that is, those of judges to whom nothing was more secret, except the face of the supreme leader, known only to Don Girolamo Ammirata, who was the secretary general, and therefore the director of the sect. The other twenty judges, who discussed and deliberated on complaints, were chosen after an internship in which they proved worthy, and when some vacation took place.

Antonino Bucolaro had been started by Don Girolamo Ammirata, of whom he had become a friend, for business relations. He had been in for a few years, and he had been noted for zeal and industriousness; he had been "executor" and then "rapporteur." Don Girolamo had given him affection and trust and had chosen him for his confidant. The "rapporteurs" knew the performers, and they were those who received the denunciations and complaints or who found out the news; they instructed the first acts and sent everything back to the Secretary. Often they were called upon to provide verbal enlightenment to the winds of the high court, but they were wearing masked faces.

In several circumstances, Don Girolamo had experienced the Bucolaro and had praised it. He thought he had made a good purchase for the sect and often talked about it with Coriolano, with whom he first saw himself in the morning in St. Matthew. Now that he was hit with ban, they saw each other at night in a lonely house outside the Ossuna Gate, the same one where Blasco was taken wounded by the assassins of the prince of Iraki.

Antonino Bucolaro knew where the admirer was hiding; he was the only one who knew and acted as a means of communication between him and the "executors." Every morning, at dawn, he would catch the poplar, call the dog and go hunting by the river Oreto, which then abounded with wild ducks. This seems to be: in fact, when he was sure that no one paid more attention to him, he went through the paths and went towards St. Cyrus; in front of a house, at the slopes of the hill, he found Don Girolamo and Andrea with the snaps between his legs, who were waiting. Antonino reported all the facts of the day; he received the orders of the secretary, communicated them to the other speakers, and if it was a matter of carrying out any assignment, he warned society if there were extraordinary meetings, by a very simple means: a bandit, followed by a young boy who carried, when bread, when macaroni, went through the streets shouting that in the pastry shop of the Cape or in the oven near St. Augustine the macaroni of excellent quality were sold a lot in roll or that the bread of good weight, according to the prescribed forms, was lowered of a terdenari roll. Those two shops were not you to the affiliates, who went there on the pretext of shopping and took a quick and indifferent look at the shop. If they saw three lamps lit before three sacred images: The Immaculate One that crushes the serpent, the Saints Peter and Paul with their emblems, St. Michael the Archangel with the scales in one hand and the flaming sword in the other, that was a sign that at midnight of that day there was assembly in the cave. Except for the crowded, no one could understand that language, at a time when the shops were full of images and lamps. When the lamps were two, one before the Immaculate Virgin and the other before the Saints Peter and Paul, the meeting was restricted to the speakers: The performers didn't mean that sign. When instead only one lamp was lit before St. Michael the Archangel, the convention was for the high court and neither performers, nor speakers knew such a sign. The baker and pasta maker belonged to the twenty judges. It is understood that the auctioneer ignored being an instrument and cried out in good faith.

Another very simple means was the one used by performers or speakers, if they needed to confer with some of the immediate superiors: Because the performers did not communicate that with the speakers, with the judges, the judges with Don Girolamo Admirata who, on the other hand, knew everyone in his capacity as secretary and director.

Before St. Matthew's sacristan was arrested, that church was the denunciation office. An affiliate threw something into the box of the Oblate Mali, located at the church door. The sacristan, closed the church, opened the box; if he found a coin of a terdenary with a hole in the middle and dents, it meant that a speaker in that neighborhood wanted to confer with one of the judges in his own neighborhood; if there was no hole, but only dents, he was an executor who needed to talk to a speaker in his own neighborhood. The dents ranged from one to six; the neighborhoods were six, four interiors and two rurals and each had a number corresponding to the dents. The Cape's neighborhood, where the cave was, was indicated by number one. The sacristan brought the coins to Zi' Rosario, these to Don Girolamo who immediately sent those coins, among others, in a bag, to one of the judges or speakers in the neighborhood, who, at a certain hour of the day, sat in one of the taverns agreed.

After the arrest of the sacristan and the uncle Rosario, he went to the "scaro" of the fruit in the plane of the Magione, with a case of lemons, shouting:

"By the lot, lemoooons!"

Antonino Bucolaro went there every day, approached the seller, exchanged the sign of recognition, received and gave the convention and referred to Fr Girolamo. All this taking place outdoors and with the means that were part of ordinary life, gave no suspicion and escaped the spies.

Although corrupted already by the prospect of enrichment, the Bucolaro had not revealed the secret of these means to Matteo Lo Vecchio, who, moreover, in order not to arouse suspicions of espionage limited himself to concerting the blackmail to the Duke of Motta, and had not tried to know anything else. Antonino made a perfectly logical reasoning within himself:

"The cards were stolen and, as Matteo Lo Vecchio says, he probably has that Don Blasco, who was a friend of the Duke of Motta, who was arrested in Messina and who now does not know where he is. So society no longer owns them. The facts, meanwhile, the high court knows them and can proceed without the need for those pieces of paper. What's the harm if we can turn them back to Mr. Don Blasco and sell them to the duke? With this I certainly do not commit myself to stealing the Duke from punishment. Far from it. If he needs a shot of rifle at night, I'll throw it at him... And a rascal, which is better to send to hell. So?..."

When he reasoned, he was far from knowing that Blasco had been admitted before the high court. He did not know that Blasco was in Palermo, host of Coriolano della Floresta, nor that Coriolano della Floresta was the occult and supreme leader who moved the dark lines of society to which he had taken an oath of blind obedience and absolute fidelity. For him, Blasco was an enemy that had to be disposed of, if it was true that he had those famous documents. Where was he? Where to find him? To denounce him to the society that, unleashing his spies, would certainly find him (so he thought), he did not seem prudent, for fear of losing those cards that became his fixed idea and that represented for him the dream of an endless wealth. Where was he?

Matteo Lo Vecchio, in a second bite, marveled at this question. How? Did you ask him where Blasco was?

"But if he's yours!..."

"Who?"

"Don Blasco, that adventurer!"

"How do you know?"

"I know. I'm surprised you don't know..."

"I don't know... because it's not..."

"And I say yes."

Matteo Lo Vecchio's safety surprised Antonino Bucolaro; how could he claim it? What evidence did he have? The birro reminded him of the attempted arrest of Don Girolamo and Andrea, gone upstream, and added:

"Who warned them? Who snitched? Who was the leader of the Beati Paoli hidden? Him, just him. I saw it with my own eyes."

Antonino Bucolaro was silent; the argument, for him who knew how the sect was ordered, was not much with winner, but enough to throw in his heart the germ of a doubt or at least to leave him perplexed.

"If that were true!" he thought inside himself.

An inner smile thrilled his brain, for an evil thought came to him from the bottom of his consciousness: "What if I tried the shot on my own, and Matteo Lo Vecchio gave a few ounces of shots in his stomach?"

It was fraud on fraud: Taking advantage of the indications of the birro, he would directly negotiate with the Duke of Motta, eliminating any intermediary, and the gain would be all his. The aroused appetite became greedy and treacherous greed.

If Blasco really belonged to the sect, Don Girolamo certainly had to know it; it was therefore necessary to begin there. In the morning, he went hunting as usual, visiting the Admired, in the usual place, to make a report of the events of the day. When he had finished, he asked how his habit was: "Nothing?..."

The suspicions had already begun over Antonino Bucolaro and for a few days the Admired to his question always answered: Nothing. That time he added after a brief silence:

"And don't come tomorrow..."

"Why?" asked Antonino Bucolaro with a sudden suspicion.

"Because I'm leaving... A deal. Wait till I send for you."

In the night was to be completed the rat of Violante from the monastery of Montevergini; in other times, Don Girolamo would have commissioned Antonino to provide him with everything he needed: stairs, ropes, men; but this time he did not believe to put it aside from the secret. The next day one of the performers learned of the attempt, of the sudden and miraculous intervention of a man who had prevented them from taking away the "monachella" and how he could not know the fate of the "guardian" and Andrea. Antonino Bucolaro then realized that Don Girolamo no longer trusted him, and he was afraid of him. He waited a few days, but Don Girolamo did not send for him.

"Let's not see each other anymore," he said to Matteo Lo Vecchio; "I'm very afraid that spies will keep on us... I haven't been able to know anything so far. No, Don Blasco doesn't belong to society."

He was discouraged. Matteo Lo Vecchio was impressed, fearing that Antonino Bucolaro would escape him, which certainly could succeed him with serious damage, now that his secret was in the possession of another. It was necessary to use great caution, yes, but not to let the Beato Paolo escape, who could be useful for other undertakings: For example, to unleash the sect from its lair.

A few more days passed and news spread throughout the city that a barbaric ship had attacked the feluc in which the Duchess of Motta traveled with her stepdaughter, and that the two women had been taken into slavery. A fishing line, in the waters of Solunto, had found the felucas at the mercy of the waves, without a man on the tolda, like a ghost ship: the boatmen, boarded it, with astonishment had Seen that the sailors were bound and thrown into the bottom of the feluca. There they were freed and so the felucas had reported the news to Palermo. For the city it was a dismay, a running, a questioning of other news; the Viceroy was amazed, grieved, but neither he nor Matteo Lo Vecchio believed that the two women had been kidnapped by the corsairs. The corsairs would not abandon the feluca and leave the crew, which instead could have a value on the slave market, or could be used in barbaric jails. It was supposed to be a second and successful kidnapping. For the Viceroy it was a slap that caused him to get mad. He sent couriers and orders throughout the kingdom, threatening extraordinary rigors to captains who had not been solicitous and zealous, and also sending two galleys to explore the coasts, to gather news and investigate.

Antonino Bucolaro also understood that the corsairs did not have anything to do with it and that instead it had been the work of the Beati Paoli, and confirmed it; the thing mortified him and deeply displeased him. So they put him out of all deliberation? Let them take care of them: He had only one step to take and would lose them all!...

Matteo Lo Vecchio visited him at night at home.

"The Viceroy promises a prize of 200 shields to those who can indicate where the two ladies were taken..."

"What do you want me to know?"

"Sure, you might know better than I do. Do you believe the corsairs? Really? Let's not sing. One hundred shields you, one hundred me. Plus a sum! This business doesn't exclude the other, bigger."

Antonino Bucolaro promised nothing. Discover! How? Every step he took would raise suspicion: We had to rely on the case. The next morning he went hunting, but to see Don Girolamo. He sought him in vain in the usual place; he pushed himself up the coast of the mountain, he also visited the caves. Neither Don Girolamo nor Andrea were there. Were they gone? Were they among the women's kidnappers? Were they hiding elsewhere because they feared him?

"Oh, for God's sake! If they put me against the wall, I sing!"

In the meantime he attended the night conferences of the Beati Paoli, without being able to say that he was being treated with distrust, and he was engaged in some assignment of minor importance evidently not to give him suspicion. At a meeting he finally saw Don Girolamo.

"We never saw each other again," he said.

"See you now."

And after a minute of silence, pull him aside in a cave hallway:

"Take care of you, Bucolaro!" he said to him, "I have always had you in a good way; take care of you..."

Antonino went through, but he could contain himself and respond with sufficient tranquility:

"What are you talking to me about? It's the second time, Don Girolamo. If you doubt me, try me..."

"No, I will not have you tried; if suspicion becomes certainty, I will kill you with my own hands..."

"Go ahead. What do you want me to say? I just want to warn you about one thing: who, killing me, would cause danger to the whole of society... because you will not know what I know, that I want to ascertain, in your interest, indeed in the interest of all..."

Don Girolamo made a face of doubt.

"Don't you believe me? Well, these are those cards that were stolen from you and other news that I gradually collect for our safety. Don't you realize I'm a spy spy?"

"How? The cards?" asked Fr. Girolamo.

"Surely. The friend knows what they contain; at least if what he says responds perfectly to their context."

"And what does it say?"

Antonino Bucolaro told him what Matteo Lo Vecchio had told him. Don Girolamo was surprised, but his face seemed closed to every impression. He answered or commented with a: That didn't mean anything. But in the meantime he wondered why the birro knew the content of those papers, known only to him, to the high court and to Andrew; Antonino himself, knowing that they formed the trial, ignored what they contained.

"Now if he knows all this, he must know where these cards are... And I'm trying to rip it out of his mouth..."

Jerome Admired looked him fixed in the eyes and slowly asked him:

"And what do you give him in exchange for this news?"

"Oh!" he replied smiling at the Bucolaro, "nothing that could compromise... News of no account and that drive him away from the truth..."

"Bada. The birro is smart. He'll catch you."

"Don't be afraid!"

The speech ended at that point. Separated, Antonino Bucolaro put his hand on his forehead and found it in a cold sweat. He had won a battle, but he couldn't say it was decisive!

On his way out, Don Girolamo told him:

"Be careful and careful, and try to know where those cards are. I'm afraid he has a birro; indeed he will have it!..."

"Where do you want me to visit?" asked the Bucolaro.

"Nowhere. If I need you, I'll come and see you..."

Starting at home, Antonino said to himself: "He believes that the cards have Matteo Lo Vecchio; therefore society does not possess them: And that Mr. Blasco, if he's got them, or he's not a brother, or if he is, he's a traitor! He's not getting out. Don Girolamo doesn't want me to visit him. So he changed his abode and doubted me..."

He was about to open the door of the house, when a shadow came out of the dark space of a next door; Antoninus drew his sword, but a known voice reassured him:

"It's me; be cheto!..."

"Don Matteo..."

"That's right. I heard you had a meeting last night and I waited for you. Let's go in, because the night is wet..."

"Do you have anything to say to me?"

"A very interesting one. I met Mr. Don Blasco from Castiglione at three hours at night..."

"Eh!?"

"Get out of the palace of the knight of Floresta... a gentleman..."

"Let's go in, let's go in!" said Antonino Bucolaro by pushing inside the birro.