Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part four, chapter 2

On the 3rd of July, the capitulation of the city, formulated in six articles, was concluded between the Marquis de Lede and the ambassadors of the Senate Fr Francesco Gravina Prince of Palagonia and Fr Girolamo Gravina Prince of Montevago; and that same day the Viceroy Count Mattei, with the Viceroy and the family members, the officials of the court, the consultors, left the city leaving Porta Nuova, where the cavalry and the infantry were waiting for him, with whom he set out for the Plain of the Greeks. None of the lords accompanied him, please, to a certain point; no one gave him a kind farewell: the souls had turned to the new sun returning after five years of absence.

The workers, by order of the praetor, took possession of the Royal Palace, where nothing of the archive was found, having Count Mattei burned all the scriptures and also the specimens of the work on the parliaments of Sicily, made by the Mongitore.

The square of the Royal Palace, free of soldiers after the departure of the court, seemed to be an uninhabited village: The neighborhood of St. James was deserted; all the Piedmontese families of employees and soldiers had gone away that morning with their stuff: a sad exodus without regret.

Only in the castle at sea remained a garrison of four hundred soldiers, with the order not to harass the city, but to defend the royal flag and not to yield that when the defense would be impossible. Six soldiers tried to escape, but two were taken and put to death.

The Spanish army entered Palermo on the morning of the 4th, with a tail of families, among the acclamations of the citizenship, who greeted those who, as he had emphatically said, had come to free them "from the tyranny of the Savoy Pharaoh"; and they did not know that with those hosannas prepared for the country the most harmful of servitudes. The fleet, following the movement of the troops, entered the gulf in order of battle and then began a violent cannonization, between the garrison of the Castle and the ships, which called the population to the navy and the bulwarks, to admire the spectacle of that duel, which was felt in the city, raising trepidations and fears.

Meanwhile, the Spanish troops, in order to oppress the Castle, planted the camp at S. Oliva and, in order to defend themselves from possible aggressions and cut to those of the Castle every communication, extended their line until under the convent of Baida. And from these places gradually they pushed, always narrowing the line, until they established the batteries in the gardens outside Porta S. Giorgio, where now rise populous districts.

A young soldier of the Spanish dragons, that same evening of the four, probably with a permission of his captain, entered the city from Porta Carini, went towards the Cape and, turned to the Mercè, stopped for a minute to look at the palace of Motta.

The balconies were closed, the door closed; in the appearance of the house there was something sinister and dark, almost the outward sign of a cloudy and dark history. From there, going down slowly, he passed through St. Cosmos, and stopped again to look at the door of the house Baldi; then, turning around the square, he climbed the alley of the Orphans and stopped again in front of a walled door. He shook his head and resumed his journey: It seemed that in his face the memories, which were being redesigned, left a footprint of their succession.

From the road of Guilla, for that of the Seven Angels he went out into the Cassaro, which seemed to be celebrating. Here and there we could see some portraits of King Philip V and of the priests who spoke animatedly, with reassuring appearance, as people who saw the time when all his tribulations would come to an end. It was hoped, in fact, in the return of the ancient regime, to see an end to the interdict and the persecutions of which they believed to be victims. A crowd of people, gentlemen and ladies in carriages, people on foot, flocked to the marina to watch the spectacle of the cannoning between the Castle and the Spanish ships: Some old people said that this was a game compared to the famous naval battle fought in the Gulf between Dutch and Spanish on the one hand and French on the other, more than forty years ago. That had been a terrible and great show. The whole gulf was full of vessels wrapped in clouds of smoke ripped at every moment by the cannons; vessels as big as mountains burning, became immense craters, or burst with thunder that made the city tremble; and what massacres, what deaths, what destructions! What was that duel? Something similar to the fireworks!... Nevertheless, it was always a spectacle to admire. You could follow the trajectory of the bombs and have fun guessing where they would fall. Both those of the vessels, and those of the Castle often fell into the water, raising columns of foam and smoke, which entertained the viewers more.

The dragon descended down to the Cassaro admired by all who saw him and marked him as one of the liberators, but he realized that many eyes stopped with insistence on him, with that particular expression that means: "I think I know you." When he reached the four Songs, he stopped, looking at the four streets that stretched out and seemed so beautiful to him, but, while he was in that mute admiration, suddenly he went back, and a lively reddish placed his face on him. A voice, well known to him, cried beside him: "Stop!"

From a carriage, pulled by two horses, which at that order stopped with a great iron sculpture on the paved, faced a face that looked with an expression of astonishment at the dragon. For a moment they both looked at each other, recognizing themselves, without speaking, immobile, but not without emotion; and it seemed that they were fought by different feelings and more by a kind of repugnance or rebuke, which perhaps prevented them from showing cordiality.

And the lord of the chariot departed, and came near unto the dragon, and said unto him with gravity,

"Do they not deceive me in recognizing Mr. Blasco Albamonte?"

"It's me," said Blasco with flavorful coldness.

"Well, since luck makes us meet after four years, if you want to resume that game that we interrupted in the gardens, I am at your disposal."

Coriolano said so, but a slight smile touched his lips and from his eyes shone a gaze that revealed desires quite different from those who alluded to his words.

The dragon or Blascus, who is one, did not immediately answer, but suddenly, scorching his head with his radiant face and stretching out his hands, said:

"Blasco da Castiglione had with you some accounts to settle, but Blasco Albamonte, dragon in the army of his Catholic majesty, stretches out your hand, fraternally, as before, without grudges, without resentment, Coriolano."

"Ah! Bravo! I recognize you. Give me a hug, my old friend.

And when they had overcome all repugnance, they threw themselves into each other's arms with affection and kissing on their cheeks.

"Where are you going?" asked Coriolano della Floresta.

"I don't have any direction..."

"Come therefore in the carriage, and we will speak more freely."

"Words."

They rode in a carriage, and immediately they set out for the Cassaro. Coriolano looked at Blasco with pleasure and amazement.

"Look at that! I never imagined I'd meet you... How come I find you in this striptease?..."

"Nostalgia, my dear: I felt a great need to come to Palermo, and the only way to come there without fear of bad surprises was this uniform..."

"So you were sure to take back Sicily?..."

"Sure... Although I was merely a soldier, I had some friends at the Court, from whom I found out everything that was more secret. So I can safely state that I alone in the army knew the purpose of the expedition, from its beginning; what the Marquis de Lede himself knew only in the high sea, when he opened the secret parcel that had been delivered to him..."

"Hell, do you know so much about politics?"

"Oh, no... But I was, and am, good friend of his eminence Cardinal Alberoni, Prime Minister of the king."

"Ah, good boy!... Now I understand everything... And where are you staying?"

"My regiment is at the mess of the prince of Sperlinga, where the general district is located..."

"I hope you will come to my house; you will find your room..."

"Thank you, but forget that I am no longer Blasco from Castiglione, but a dragon, who cannot leave the camp? And then, he smiled; - don't you remember the second article of the Capitolazione, which among other things forbids soldiers to take "accomodation in the homes of citizens, or other particular inhabitants"?"

"Let's go, go; certainly it doesn't forbid two good friends... We're friends, aren't we?..."

"As before..."

"Well! I was saying, therefore, it does not forbid two good friends to desinate together... You will at least give me this grace. We will have so many things to tell us, because I suppose you will want to know what has happened during these four years of your absence."

"Of course!... If you knew the tour I made..."

"I can imagine. You will have gone to look at the windows of the monastery of St. Catherine!..."

"The monastery of St. Catherine?..."

"Yeah, but only the windows, because she is betrothed to your brother, as you have desired."

Blasco paled, but immediately he recovered his good mood:

"Oh, no, you're fooling yourself. The monastery of St. Catherine?... I didn't think about it, and I didn't even know she was there... I wanted to see other places... And I went to the alley of Orphans..."

"Ah!... it's walled up."

"I have seen him; so that you are like the Jews, scattered!"

"No. The locations are not lacking and the souls are the same... But let's talk about something else. Have you seen any of your acquaintances?..."

"Nobody. I've only been in town for a few hours..."

"Toh! look!..."

They met them two young knights mounted on magnificent horses and followed by the lackeys. Coriolano pointed at one.

"Here's your brother."

Blasco could not hold back a cry of wonder.

"That? How high he got! I wouldn't have recognized him... And he's also a handsome young man..."

"Yes, that's what everyone says. I think he's going to Villafranca's argument to practice. He is a strong knight and a good rider."

"Really?... I'm glad."

"Will you go find him?"

Blasco grabbed up a little bit and replied dryly:

"No."

"You're right; maybe there's too much pride in your no; but you're right... And do you not count on seeing any of your ancient acquaintances?"

"Nobody. Why should I see them again, my dear, now I am only a poor dragon soldier who lives on his pay, when they give it to him, or what he finds, and makes war cheerfully, waiting for a cannonball to take away his head that he has never had in place!... Come on! I took my first name and surname of baptism only for a convenience, and because in the eyes of all Blasco from Castiglione is dead, banished and persecuted as Saltaleviti or some other malandrino of the same species; but when I am alone with myself, then I feel and I am that Blasco himself, who came to Palermo riding a buzzing to make shame that of Don Quixote, attacking with the prince of Iraci!... Ah!, how I would like to go back and erase those two years of life!... By the way, what about the little prince of Iraki?

"I believe in Rome, in the Embassy of King Vittorio: "Take note that he will return..."

"Poor devil!... What about the Duchess, woman Gabriella?"

"He bears with much decorum his widowhood."

"A repentant Magdalene?..."

"Maybe..."

"What about your friends? Don Girolamo?"

"Don Girolamo lives in Naples under another name; his wife died of pain. The poor woman deeply loved her milky son and approached so much of the detachment and the abandonment of Palermo that she fell ill. Her milk son, Emanuele, never saw her again, never sent her a greeting..."

"Oh! possible?"

"Unfortunately... Andrea is at the service of Emanuele: He took him with him, not out of gratitude or other sentiment, but to make a gesture as a lord."

They had arrived, so to speak, at the Floresta palace, where they disassembled. The rhombus of the cannons was still heard, frequent and threatening, on the side of the sea. The two sides did not seem willing to yield, although the Savoy garrison was small and recognized that his would be more a pro-forma defense, than a true resistance with hope of success, nor could rely on relief, as Count Mattei with the few thousands of soldiers withdrew over Caltanissetta, letting those thirty thousand Spaniards, about, swallow the small Savoy garrison.

During the desining, Blasco and Coriolano heard that cannoning and spoke. Blasco gave information about the forces of the army, the generalissimo, the officers, the regiment of foreigners, the most Italian part; the artillery had planted the trenches among the gardens down to Porta S. Giorgio. After the official entry of the Marquis de Lede, as Viceroy of the Kingdom of Sicily for part of Philip V, he would come to a decisive action to take possession of the Castle.

These reports, which seemed to be of interest to Coriolanus, alternated with others about Blasco's life in those four years. He had lived for a short time in Genoa, from where he had left for Barcelona. Then he had gone to Madrid, and had not gone away until the day that Cardinal Alberoni had not decided to regain the kingdom of Sicily, arguing that Vittorio Amedeo had failed to fulfil the obligations imposed on him by the transfer of the kingdom, made to him by the Treaty of Utrecht. He had lived as a master of arms and, teaching the young son of a lady, friend of Cardinal Alberoni, had become familiar with her, so much so, that in order to leave and follow the Spanish army he had to resort to a cunning.

Coriolano della Floresta also gave news about the events of city life, providing curious and interesting details and his customs of life.

An hour later Blasco resigned; perhaps he was a little late and expected some punishment. He resumed the way of the camp, going up this time to Porta Maqueda to make the shortest way. On the road that, later ennobled by the Marquis of Regalmici, gave rise to the four country songs, and which later took its name from Ruggero Settimo, he encountered those two knights, in one of whom Coriolano had made him recognize Emanuele.

He watched him carefully not without some sadness, and with his soul oppressed by all those new thoughts that Coriolano's meeting and conversation had raised up, he returned to the camp.