Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part three, chapter 27

Italiano

English

Around midday, Don Girolamo went to Coriolano; from the usual secret passage no one could see him entering. He found the knight of Floresta altered by a deaf anger that was revealed by the contraction of the jaws.

"Well!" he said in his teeth, as soon as Don Girolamo entered; "Caifasso is unbuttoned..."

"Huh!" exclaimed amazed the rational.

"And he's still alluded."

"Possible!... Three bloodlettings!"

"You have the hands of ricotta!... a shame!..."

There was a minute of silence. Don Girolamo asked:

"How did he unbutton himself?"

"They pulled it out..."

"What?... Did they get in there? Have they found the passage?..."

"No. They entered the courtyard of the Motta Palace, digging..."

"And how did they know? Who could say that?..."

Coriolano shook his shoulders; Don Girolamo understood and with ill-hidden rebuke he observed:

"I get it! It was certainly that bloody bastard!... I told your lordship, that it would bring us bad luck, that it would embarrass us!... Your lordship never wanted to lend me an ear. That's what we're all about now... Why don't you let me go? A rifle, at night, doesn't even take it from her God!..."

"Do not move leaf without my order. He too is a victim of injustice."

Don Girolamo mumbled something incomprehensible and kept quiet a little, worried about the news that seemed to upset his drawings. Coriolano kept silent; with his hands in the pockets of the undercoat, he looked up, as if he were looking for something or refocused on an idea.

After a while Don Girolamo asked:

"What now for Caifasso?"

"Nothing. You have to see and study. Now more than ever it is necessary to craft the lantern. If he gets to sing, he can cheat us... I understand that we finally own all the weapons, but some of us could pay for it... I'll go visit. Meanwhile, go to the notary Di Bello, pretend to stay in the studio and watch him..."

"Oh, we're sure about that. The poor guy is so scared on him that he won't even dare show up."

"More reason to watch him and prevent him. Fear is a terrible counselor. Meanwhile, keep the Orbo to the ribs of Nino Bucolaro..."

"I've got him already..."

"I have news of Matteo Lo Vecchio."

"Yes? Did he really die?"

"That bad boy is still alive: is located in the prince's castle, cared for with all possible cares and seems to heal."

"Good. We'll break his teeth, so he won't bite."

"We'll talk about it later. For now let's leave it alone: We can use it. And a witness. Do you have anything to say to me?"

Don Girolamo then told him what had happened between him and Emanuele, and how the young man already knew his state. Coriolano listened silently to it by corrugating his eyelashes.

"The world is ungrateful," he said; "Emanuel has the vices of his father and the soul of his uncle, without any of the virtues. But this is about him; he will not change our course, certainly. It means you'll see if you need to hurry."

He sent him away with a gesture; Don Girolamo asked him:

"Does the old lady get pinched at the refectory?" "Not now."

"He will tell me your lordship when I have to soar the bell... But, anyway, where?"

"Out of the door of Ossuna..."

"She's okay."

When Don Girolamo left Coriolano ordered his carriage and went to visit the Duchess of Motta, where he met Blasco and there was that brief disagreement and the challenge that, despite Coriolano knew how to hide every emotion under his cold mask, they also dug a great groove in his heart.

He and Blasco were broken by now. He had relied on the young man, and he almost wanted to prepare for his succession in that dark kingdom in which his act was blindly obeyed. Young, only, without future, rejected by society, rebellious for dress and instinct, brave, beautiful, enterprising, had all the qualities to lead an army, except prudence; he hoped to make him buy it by picking it up in the sect, getting used to that masked struggle, to the bullocks, sure to succeed and to make Blasco the most terrible enemy of the legal authorities...

On the other hand, the young man escaped him, but he stood resolutely before him, to fight him, he stopped his punishing arm; he took away the condemned from him; he revealed, perhaps without will, the secret of the sect; he became an enemy and also dangerous against whom the avenging daggers of the Beati Paoli were sharpened. He was an enemy, that the supreme interests of the sect itself would ask him to eliminate and perhaps impose, for common salvation.

The cold reason did not justify Blasco's conduct, nor did it hide or mitigate the disastrous and terrible consequences that resulted from it; however, a remnant of the ancient sympathy made it hard and painful to formulate the judgment clearly; and if he did not suggest excuses or pitys it gave him a sense of suffering that annoyed him. His inflexible and cruel heart perhaps felt the need for some tenderness, and, insensitive to women, seeking her in friendship had attached himself to Blasco, whose qualities had struck him from the first day. But behold, the young man whom he loved, and on whom he had stretched out the protection of the sect, without even realizing it, and who had tried to return to his place, unleashed before him the sword, with the harsh and stern attitude of a vigilante.

"Too bad!" murmured his sorrowful heart.

"He must die!" said the inflexible reason and interest. "He has failed his oath, he has betrayed; he must die, how they are dead, how the traitors will die! It is the law!..."

That night he summoned the court. Don Girolamo personally went to invite his companions, including Andrea.

"Out, and wherever we meet," said Fr Girolamo, "we don't even know each other, and I don't want to know about you anymore, but as far as society is concerned it is something else. After all, it is good for the court to decide between us, and whoever broke up will pay."

"As you wish," answered Andrea.

The Beati Paoli gathered in the catacombs of Porta d'Ossuna, which until that terrible night had all ignored the existence, except Coriolano and Don Girolamo. The catacombs of the Ossuna Gate, discovered and explored more than half a century later, and now visible, were not isolated. They, because of tunnels that the time covered and erased, connected to the other group of catacombs, which lay under the height of the Cape, and of which the cave of the alley of Orphans was but one end, perhaps the point of entry, almost detached from the main body, for the factories that had arisen above, whose foundations had interrupted or blocked the passages. Coriolano, exploring those underground, had discovered that the cave of the Beati Paoli could be communicated with the catacombs of the Cape; and digging a niche had found the passage, which had then masked, to remain secret to the same members of the sect.

With Don Girolamo, he had, then, explored those underground, pushing ahead, and had found a ladder dug into the tuff, on which was a trapdoor, which the weather, the mud, had almost glued to the posts. At first with caution, then reassured by hearing nothing, they had beaten harder; silence had encouraged them to bolder. Coriolano had used his strength, to lever his shoulders against the trapdoor, shake it, lift it with a creak of broken wood. They had found themselves in a room that looked like a cellar, an abandoned warehouse, full of cobwebs, dirt, partly destroyed. It was a ruined house that gave behind the church of the Novitiate of the Jesuit fathers, not much consecrated to worship; and perhaps it had remained standing, remnant of the demolitions made to build the church. The discovery had pleased Coriolano, constituting it a kind of secret exit, for all events. They descended, and resumed their journey among the narrow, sewerlike meanders, and soon reached another group of catacombs. A hole in the vault, clogged by stones and loam, showed them an opening. That was enough. And they returned to it, saying, They freed that opening and found themselves outdoors, among the gardens that occupied the coast of the ancient large marsh of Papireto.

Here, therefore, Coriolano summoned the court. They had made an entrance, from a hole, which looked like a slit on the coast of the tuff, which stood almost on the bed of the swamp, and which masked the entrance so well that no one could see it.

The session was serious. Coriolano explained the condition in which the sect was located. A ban had been promulgated that very morning, which promised great rewards to those who had discovered, revealed and indicated to justice the members of that "pernicious sect"; other bans were followed. The seat had been walled up; spies, guards, courts, the Holy Office, everything was in motion. Justice knew some name; some insignificant arrest had been made, and from it one could perhaps, through torture, corruption, go up to find the leaders. Blasco was ordered to be arrested by Castiglione, Don Girolamo and Andrea.

They had had the ease of hiding that evening; but they had to find a means to get out of the kingdom, to hospitalize in Tuscany or Rome, or perhaps better send them to Spain, where they would be safer. As for society, it was prudent, until that fury had passed, to silence, to eclipse, as if to make it believe that it had dissolved and dispersed; every trace had to be lost. Those who needed to send news to the head could do so by putting before the statue of the Ecce Homo of Biscuits in the morning fifteen hours a lit candle, with a cross marked down, and waiting at midnight before the hole of that basement.

Someone asked for the floor. It was Don Girolamo.

"It's started again for me," he said, "the stray life. But this time I will sail, I will go with the family out of the kingdom, to live more peacefully. There is nothing left for me to do here now... but before we part, I ask that they be declared traitors and abandoned to the vengeance of society two that we held until yesterday as our companions and had the protection of society. I formally denounce them: I am Mr. Blasco from Castiglione, of whom everyone saw the attitude and rebellion, and Antonino Bucolaro who, betraying his brothers, became a spy of Matteo Lo Vecchio. And of this that I affirm I have the sure evidence."

A murmuring of approval and threat accepted those words. All eyes, through the mask, turned to the head, but Coriolan remained still, in silence, like a nume, without giving a sign of approval or disapproval.

One of the Beati Paoli spoke:

"If Antoninus Bucolaro has betrayed, and brother Beato Paolo who accuses him gives evidence of it, be judged and punished; but, as for Mr. Blasco of Castiglione, I beg my brothers not to precipitate any judgment. He, it is true, tried to oppose our justice and disobeyed the laws of our holy society, but did he spy? He betrayed our secret?... Perhaps he acted out of goodness of heart, out of pity, without considering the passage he gave; but I deny that there is betrayal: and it does not seem to me, dear brothers, that he should be punished as Bucolaro..."

Another brother intervened:

"Our statutes, which we have sworn on the Holy Crucifix to respect and enforce, are clear and precise and there are no excuses. He who disobeys is guilty of death. He disobeyed and rebelled with an armed hand... More has gotten out of the underground Don Raimondo and has violated our secret."

Andrea said:

"Let us hear the word of Wisdom."

Wisdom was the boss, Coriolano. He said:

"Let the law be done!"

It was necessary to appoint the executioners of the law and Coriolano filmed:

"I will execute justice."

The meeting was dissolved; the Beati Paoli went out one by one, wandering in the night shadow; last they went out Don Girolamo and Coriolano.

He asked him:

"What, then, do you count on?"

"I will deliver Emanuele to the relatives. Now that I can't watch him anymore, and I can't even go fleetingly to my house, it's the only way that's left. Leaving him with my wife, now that he knows whose son he is, and who is haughty, would be the same as killing that poor woman of heartbreak... I will deliver it, or rather I will have it delivered to relatives, and I will leave with Francesca for Spain..."

"He's fine. I'll get you the means. For Antonino Bucolaro I'll take care of... Before you leave, we'll see you."

They separated. Coriolano returned home Thoughtful. He had assumed on himself a serious task to remove Blasco from the pitfalls of the Beati Paoli, but he now felt all the weight and all the responsibility. Punishment; the law wanted it and it was inevitable to arm his arm; he had ruled and assumed that he had to be himself and could not escape it. Meanwhile at twenty-two hours of the following day he was to fight with Blasco, before the new seat of the Beati Paoli. Here: To fight, to kill in duel, was a device that removed all hatred to the vengeance or justice of the sect. Blasco would have had the ease of defending himself; Coriolano, if ever, would have killed him or seriously injured him (of which he did not doubt) with all loyalty. This thought calmed him down and made him sleep almost midday.

He waited for the appointed hour, usually taking care of all his affairs and providing for the safety of his associates; then, when time seemed to him, he threw a couple of small guns into the pockets of the undercoat, took a sword, the best, flexible and light, wrapped himself in his cloak and went out in a porter.

He passed before the palace of the Motta and informed himself of the health of the duke, with that complicity that he was habitual, he consoled feeling that he had given signs of knowledge, wished prompt recovery and prayed that they would tell the Duchess lady that he would return.

He went out of the door of Ossuna, and had the porterina stopped, sent her away, saying that he would return on foot. When he was assured that the servants could no longer see him, he made a wide turn, and, from a broken hedge, entered into the gardens. He walked for a while; he saw Blasco sitting on a rock with his arms crossed, waiting. At the sound of the steps the young man lifted his head, recognized Coriolano and rose, greeting him coldly, but not without a certain concussion that he could not master.

Coriolano pulled a watch out of his pocket and looked.

"It's 22 precise hours, sir; I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

"No, sir," said Blasco, "I'm here now too."

"Since the question that we must settle is of its nature reserved for the circumstances that determine it, I did not believe that I would make any friends to be my witness; I realize that you too have taken the same resolution..."

"In fact," said Blasco.

"So, whenever you want, I'm at your command."

"Anch'io," Blasco repeated, taking off his hat, the jamberga and the undercoat, and remaining in shirt sleeves.

Coriolano did the same. When they chose the ground and stood before each other with swords in their hand, Coriolano said to him:

"I warn you, sir, that I will do anything to kill you. You have been condemned as rebellious and violator of the oath made. I wanted to spare you an unworthy death, with a stab or a shot of rifle in the back, and I reserved for myself the task of executing justice. So you will not die ignominiously, but as a knight: You will not say that you are murdered, but that you are loyally killed by giving you all the means to defend yourselves. It's the last thing I wanted to do for you, for the consideration I've had for you."

"Do your duty, sir," said Blasco gloomily, "and believe that I am grateful for this deference. But I must loyally warn you that I have revealed to the Prince of Butera and to the Marquis of Geraci the existence of Emanuele..."

"You have done well; I will tell you that you have prevented my purpose. On guard, then."

They crossed the blades, screaming against each other with a noise that made them shudder; Coriolan tried to guess the game of Blasco, but he immediately realized that he had none, and offered only a weak passive resistance. Knowing him, he amazed himself and lowered the iron.

"Sir," he said, "I didn't come here to play..."

"I know it;" said Blasco, "I don't mean to play..."

"It seems to me that you do not want to attack or defend yourselves!..."

"What do you care? I certainly do not invite you to do the same... Do your duty..."

"But fight, for God's sake!..."

"I do what I want..."

"So I must force you to be really beaten?..."

"No. Why would you want to make me? You have a duty to kill me; I will serve you the task. Do you think that life is such a desirable and dear thing to defend it when you know that it is better to throw it away?... Come on, on guard!..."

"But I want to fight in full order; you yourself desired this confrontation, and I welcomed it as a dignified means for both of us, to get out of an embarrassing and ambiguous situation for you and for me..."

"Well? So what? Until a few days ago we were two brothers, almost... Fatality has set us against each other. Now you're a vigilante, I'm the culprit. I recognize that I have failed your society, and I do not seek extenuating, because I do not have the habit of apologizing; indeed I confirm that, if I had to start again, I would do all that I have done again. It pains me for you. I know if I have suffered in breaking our friendship and looking like an ungrateful to you. But Remember a lesson you gave me... You said that you had a high idea of righteousness before you, and that if it were necessary to pass over your brother's head you would not hesitate. I had a high idea of pity for a winner and I didn't hesitate to break a bond of friendship... I have failed you, I repeat, and I have disobeyed society. Punish me: Die with a sword stroke or a rifle stroke is worth the same to me. I have completed my period and I have nothing more to do in the world. If you do me the favor of sending me to the Eternal Father, I will have one last thought of gratitude for you, and I will consider this as an act of fraternal friendship. You should agree that, for me, to receive this favor from your hands, rather than from an unknown one, it is more flatter... I will say even more beautiful. Let's go, then, what more are you looking for? Do you have an office, a duty to perform? Do it without sophistication!..."

Coriolano listened to him and the brows corrupted and the jaws tightened showed in him. a deaf anger just braking. He felt angry against Blasco and against himself; against Blasco because with that conduct and with that speech he prevented him to mount himself, and to find in a fierce fight the reason to kill him; against himself, because he found no word to oppose those of Blasco and accused himself of weakness.

"He's fine..." he said. "I'll do as you wish; beware."

They came back to cross the irons.

But a cry stopped them suddenly:

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!..."

They turned to look; on the top of the labyrinth that dominated the gardens and hid behind itself the catacombs, stood a small, squirmy little man, nervously shaking his hands, with frightened air.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, stop... a rural company is coming... will arrest you..."

Blasco looked with amazement at that little man, in whom he recognized Michele Barabino, the little tailor who had saved him a first time by the police; he saw that, looking for a suitable point, he went down to the precipice, repeating:

"There's a rural company going through... right now, they're dressed up!..."

"Oh! Your Lordship?" cried out recognizing Blasco; "Now, hide!... hide!..."

Coriolano gloomily said:

"Let's dress up, sir, and pretend we're here watching..."

They quickly clothed themselves, sheathed their swords and looked, while Don Michele, next to Blasco, asked him softly:

"Your Ladyship forgive me, but what was it?... A gentleman good as your lordship... What about Mr. Knight of Floresta? They were so good friends... I'm so sorry! If I could do some service... Do you hear?"

He kept silent and held his ear: Actually, a chisel of horses was heard. Coriolano turned: In the trees that crowned the labyrinth, he seemed to see people passing by on horseback, whose fronds did not make a good distinction.

"It was the good God who sent me;" he said, "I went to the Capuchins for a little soup... (he had a pot of terracotta under his arm)... I go there after lunch, because at midday there are many people... and I am ashamed, I am not accustomed to this... Stop. I always come back this way. I heard about it, and I looked out... The comrades of arms I saw they were looking inside the houses... Your lordship must be hiding... Does the ban know?..."

"This man is right," Coriolano said to Blasco: "You know where you can hide, without anyone seeing you."

"Thank you, let me not take advantage of it... if you think you're leaving... we'll have time to see each other again; I'll let you know where we can find ourselves... Get away from me."

The little tailor had gone up to watch the armored company and returned all frightened.

"Soon, quickly, they come this way..."

Coriolano wrapped himself in his cloak and set off towards the ridge of the lily, because he did not need to flee or hide; he could go to meet the company, sure that he was rather revered than harassed. As soon as he reached the shore of the lily he saw the company, which came in turn, through the trees. That was Captain Mangialocchi's.

"Good evening, very illustrious;" greeted the captain, who went ahead, with a musket on his thighs. "Have you seen anyone, your lordship, around here?"

"What kind?" asked Coriolano with slight malice.

"Dangerous genre..."

"Oh!... I saw a couple, Captain, but it wasn't dangerous... I would advise you not to disturb her, if you do not want to attract the wrath of Venus, goddess of love... Others aren't here. Good evening, and good service." "I kiss the hands of your lordship."

The captain stopped for a while and took a look around, then down in the silent garden and desert. He seemed reassured and said:

"There's nothing, let's go. It's useless to go down."

Whistling turned the horse, and the company slowly drifted away to the gardens of San Francesco di Paola.

Down, under a kind of cave excavated or eroded, perhaps, in very remote times, by the waves of the sea, the tailor He kept Blasco still that he wanted to get out of it, begging him:

"Your Ladyship, don't move. Holy Virgin!... They're here, above us... Don't you hear them talking? If we move, if we take a step, they'll see us and boom! boom! with two shots we'll kill the rabbit... For Saint Bonomo! I know your lordship is enough... but here he would die like a mouse!... Let me... Let me drive... Wait... I think they're leaving... Yes... now I will see..."

He stayed still a minute with his ears in his mind, as if to pick up the slightest noise, then slowly he came out of the hiding place, climbed up without making any noise and looked.

"They're gone! They're gone!... Your Honor, come out. Ah, for Diana! How scared I was!..."

Both of them went out again in the garden.

"Where does your lordship plan to go?" asked the tailor in Blasco.

"To the Capuchin monastery..."

"Is it safe for you to find the road, to return? The whole country is invaded by guards, birri, comrades... It takes carefulness... That's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna go ahead, and I'm gonna beat, like a dog: If there is anything, I will sing, for example... the story of Saltaleviti. Let's go..."

And they went up into the labyrinth, and set out on a path. Michele Barabino went ahead, with his saucepan under his arm, in which from time to time he dived three fingers and portrayed them with certain cooked herbs that he greedily ate, curling his lips with the back of his hand. Blasco had his head full of thoughts behind him. At one point Michele Barabino began to sing.

Blasco stopped and pushed his gaze; he saw Michele Barabino, who always sang, turning right among the vegetables, and then he too went back, diverting so as to cut the road to the tailor. And he reached him.

"There were birri," said Michele Barabino. "We're gonna have to take another road... But I'm afraid the convent is surrounded... Who did you say your lordship was in the convent?..."

"Nobody..."

"Right to no one?... And you didn't send any embassy, any letters?

"Yes... to the Prince of Butera and the Marquis of Geraci..."

"Who with?"

"With Brother Rosario..."

"That's all I want to know. That guy's a big talker. Without intending to hurt her, he must have let a few words slip away... There are many spies... and, with this blessed matter with Rome, the convents are spied on!... You don't have to think about the Capuchins..."

Blasco thought and kept quiet, looking at that little torn man, shriveled, with the saucepan under his arm, who was pawning quickly, without caring for anything. It fell in the evening, and the sky behind Monte Cuccio had clouds blazed by the last rays, which by hand became grey.

Suddenly Michele Barabino stopped, as struck by an idea, and said:

"Do we want to shave justice? I will bring her a dress as a Greek priest, a fake beard and a pair of glasses and vossignoria will enter Palermo and will pass through the streets, as if he had come from the Plain or Countess, without anyone recognizing him. I guarantee... Are you in? Yeah? Okay. Let's see, where will he wait for me?... Down, down again, in the ravine where we have been... At one hour at night I'll be back and before you play the "Castellana" we'll be in the city, in my house... It's not much of a home. a hole, a hole, and then... but life for life!... San Bonomo!...

That's a good one. Come on, there is no time to lose; your Lordship will not want to spend the night walking..."

Rather than lead, he dragged Blasco down again; he left him in the garden, went to the city with his short, hasty steps of a busy little man. Blasco thought of the singularity of the case, which for the third time sent him to meet that poor man to be saved.

She had spent an hour and more when the good Michele Barabino returned with a burden. Quickly he put on Blasco over his clothes the dress and the zimarra of the Albanian papas, girded his hips with the purple band, disguised his face with a beard, and, look at him, cried out:

"Bitch!... I'd like to see who would recognize her!"

And he put upon him the cloak of Blascus, under which he hid his sword and his hat, and said cheerfully,

"Papas, come on!..."