The Viceroys (4 page)

Donna Angiolina (Sister Maria of the Cross), Nun of San Placido

Don Giacomo XIV, Prince of Francalanza

Don Lodovico, Prior of San Nicola (a Benedictine monk,
later
Cardinal)

Don Raimondo, Count of Lumera

Donna Chiara, Marchesa of Villardita

Don Ferdinando, of Pietra dell'Ovo

Donna Lucrezia,
later married
to Benedetto Giulente

Her in-laws:
the brothers and sisters of her late husband

Land in Sicily was measured by
SALMA
, equivalent to just under an acre. The main weight measurement was a
ROTOLO
, equivalent to about 2lb: these terms became officially disused after 1860.

G
IUSEPPE
was standing in front of the gates, dandling his baby, showing it the marble coat-of-arms on top of the arch, the arms-rack nailed to the vestibule wall where the prince's men hung their pikes in olden times, when there came the sound, quickly growing louder, of a vehicle arriving at full tilt; and even before he had time to turn round, into the courtyard with a deafening clatter drove a curricle so dusty it looked as if it had been snowed on, its horse afroth with sweat. From the arch to the inner courtyard peered faces of servants and retainers; Baldassarre the major-domo opened a window on the second-floor loggia as Salvatore Cerra jumped from the vehicle with a letter in his hand.

‘Don Salvatore?… What's up?… What's new?'

But the other gave a wave of despair and rushed up the stairs four at a time.

Giuseppe stood there in amazement, not understanding, the baby still round his neck. But his wife and Baldassarre's wife, and the washerwoman, and lots of other servants were already surrounding the carriage, and crossing themselves as they heard the coachman say between sobs: ‘The princess … dead of a stroke … This morning as I was washing the carriage …'

‘Jesus!… Jesus!…'

‘Orders to harness … Signor Marco rushing round … the Vicar-General and neighbours … Just time to get there …'

‘Jesus! Jesus!… But how?… Wasn't she better? And Signor Marco?… No warning from him?…'

‘How should I know?… I've seen nothing; they called me … She was said to be well last night …'

‘Without one of her children!… In the hands of strangers!… Ill, yes she was ill; even so, all so suddenly!…'

A shout from the top of the stairs interrupted the chatter.

‘Pasquale!… Pasquale!…'

‘Ehi, Baldassarre?'

‘A fresh horse, right away!'

‘At once.'

While coachmen and henchmen worked to unharness the sweating, panting horse and put in another, all the other servants gathered in the courtyard, commenting on the news, passing it on to the clerks in the administrative offices leaning out of the first-floor windows, or even coming right down themselves.

‘How terrible!… Just can't believe it!… Whoever'd thought it, like this …'

The women were lamenting most:

‘Without a single child by her!… Without even time to call her children …'

‘The gates?… Why don't you shut the gates,' suggested Salemi, his pen still behind his ear.

But the porter, having handed the baby over to his wife at last, and now beginning to understand something of what was going on, looked around at the others.

‘Should I?… What about Don Baldassarre?'

‘Ssh!… Ssh!…'

‘What's up?'

Talk died away again and all stiffened and took off their caps and lowered their pipes, for the prince in person was descending the stairs between Baldassarre and Salvatore. He had not even changed his clothes! He was leaving in the same suit, to reach his dead mother's bedside as soon as possible! And he was white as a sheet, glancing impatiently at the ostlers not yet ready, and whispering orders meanwhile to Baldassarre, who bowed his bare gleaming head at each of his master's words: ‘Yes, Excellency! Yes, Excellency!' The coachman was still fixing the girths as his master jumped into the carriage with Salvatore on the box. Baldassarre hung on to the carriage door, still listening to orders, then ran beside the curricle beyond the gate to catch last instructions: ‘Yes, Excellency! Yes, Excellency!'

‘Baldassarre!… Don Baldassarre!…' All besieged the major-domo now as, having finally left the carriage, which raced off, he re-entered the courtyard. ‘Baldassarre, what about it?… What do we do now?… Don Baldassarre, shall I shut up?…'

But, with the serious air of solemn occasions, he was hurrying towards the stairs, freeing himself from the importunate with a gesture of the arm and an impatient ‘Coming!'

The gates stayed wide open; a few passers-by, noticing the unusual movement in the courtyard, were asking the porter for news; the cabinet-maker, the baker, the vintner and the watchmaker, who had shops on the east front, also came to put in their heads, hear news of the great disaster, comment on the prince's sudden departure:

‘And people said the master didn't love his mother!… He looked like Christ down from the Cross, poor boy!…'

The women were now thinking of Signorina Lucrezia and of the young princess; did they know nothing, or had the news been kept from them?… And Baldassarre, what the devil did Baldassarre think he was doing, not giving orders to shut all up? Don Gaspare, the head coachman, looking green as garlic, shrugged his shoulders:

‘Everything's upside-down here.'

But Pasqualino Riso, the second coachman, spat out right in his face:

‘Don't worry, you won't have to put up with it long.'

Back came the other with:

‘You're all right, being the master's pimp!'

Out came Pasqualino, quick as a flash, with:

‘As you were the young count's …'

On they went till Salemi, on his way back to the offices, called out:

‘You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!'

But Don Gaspare was so sure of losing his job that he had lost control of himself, and went on:

‘Ashamed? Of being in a house where mother and children are at each other's throats!'

And now many voices called out:

‘Silence!'

But those who had sided too openly with the princess were feeling very small, sure as they were of being dismissed by her son. Giuseppe did not know what to do in all that confusion; he was longing to shut the gates for his mistress's death, as seemed proper. Why ever didn't Don Baldassarre give the order? And without Don Baldassarre's order not a thing could be done. Why, not even the shutters were closed on the main floor. And as time passed and no order came, some down in the court began fearing or hoping that maybe the mistress wasn't dead. ‘Who said she was dead?… The coachman!… But he never saw her!… He might have misunderstood!…' Other arguments were produced in support of this idea: the prince would not have left in such a rush if she were dead, as there would have been nothing for him to do up there … And for some the doubt began to be a certainty; there must have been a misunderstanding, the princess was only on her deathbed …

But eventually Baldassarre put his head out from above the loggia and shouted:

‘Giuseppe, the gates! You haven't shut the gates! And close the stable and coachhouse windows. And tell 'em to shut the shops. Shut everything!'

‘No hurry!' murmured Don Gaspare.

And as, pushed by Giuseppe, the great gates turned at last on their hinges, passers-by began gathering in little groups. ‘Who's dead?… The princess?… At the Belvedere?…' Giuseppe, now quite beside himself, shrugged his shoulders. But questions and answers crossed confusedly in the crowd, ‘Was she in the country?… Ill for at least a year … Alone?… With none of her children!…' The better informed explained, ‘She wanted no one with her, except her agent … she couldn't bear them …' Said an old man, shaking his head, ‘A mad lot, these Francalanza!'

Meanwhile the retainers were barring up windows of stables and coachhouses; baker, vintner, cabinet-maker and watchmaker also put up their shutters. Another group of curious passers-by had gathered by the service gates, which were still open, and looked at the confused coming and going of domestics in the courtyard, while from up on the loggia, like a ship's captain, Baldassarre imparted order after order.

Pasqualino, go to the Signora Marchesa and to the Benedictines … But give the news to the Signor Marchese and to Father Don Blasco, d'you understand?… Not to the Prior!… Now you, Filippo, go to Donna Ferdinanda's … Donna Vincenza? Where's Donna Vincenza?… Take your shawl and go off to the convent … Ask the Mother Abbess to prepare the nun for the news … Just a minute! First come up and see the princess, who wants a word with you … Salemi?… Giuseppe, only let in close relatives … Has Salemi come?… Drop everything. The prince and Signor Marco are expecting you up there, as they need help. Natale, you go to Donna Graziella and the duchess. Agostino, these wires to the Telegraph Office … and pass by the tailor's …'

As they got their commissions, the servants left and made their way through the crowd outside. They passed with the hurried air of military aides-de-camp, amid bystanders' comments: ‘They're off to tell the relatives … the sons and daughters, the in-laws, nieces and nephews, the dead woman's cousins …' The whole nobility would be in mourning, all the gates of noble palaces were now being closed or half closed according to degree of kinship. And the cabinet-maker explained:

‘Seven children, let's count 'em; the Prince Giacomo and the Signorina Lucrezia, who lives at home with him, that's two. The Prior of San Nicola and the nun of San Placido, that's four. Donna Chiara, married to the Marchese of Villardita, that's five. The Cavaliere Ferdinando up at Pietra dell'Ovo, six. And finally the young Count Raimondo, who married Baron Palmi's daughter … Then come her four in-laws; the Duke of Oragua, the last prince's brother; Don Blasco, also a Benedictine monk; the Cavaliere Don Eugenio; and Donna Ferdinanda the spinster …'

Every time the wicket-gate opened to let a servant through, the watchers tried to look inside the courtyard. Giuseppe lost patience and exclaimed:

‘Away from here! What the devil d'you want? Waiting for lottery numbers?'

But the crowd did not move and stared up at the windows, now shut, just as if they were waiting for the appearance of numbers on placards.

The news was racing from mouth to mouth, like that of a public event. ‘Donna Teresa Uzeda is dead …' the populace pronounced it ‘Auzeda', ‘the Princess of Francalanza … She died this morning at dawn … Her son the prince was there … No, he left an hour ago.' Meanwhile the cabinet-maker, amid a group of listeners as attentive as if he were telling legends from old chronicles, went on enumerating the other relations.' There's the Duke Don Mario Radalì, a loony, with two sons, Michele and Giovannino, by Donna Caterina Bonello; he belongs to a collateral branch, Radalì Uzeda; the Signora Donna Graziella, daughter of the princess's dead sister and wife of the Cavaliere Carvano, and so a first cousin of all the dead woman's children; the Baron Grazzeri, the young princess's uncle with all their relations; then the more distant relatives, and connections, almost all the city nobility; the Costante, the Raimonti, the Cùrcuma, the Cugnò …' Suddenly he interrupted himself to say:

‘Aha! Here come the parasites arriving before anyone else!'

Don Mariano Grispo and Don Giacinto Gostantino were arriving, as they did every day at lunch-time, to pay court to the prince, and knew nothing. On noticing the crowd, and the shut gate, they stopped in their tracks.

‘Holy Faith! Good God of Love!…'

Suddenly they increased their pace, and went in, questioning in consternation the porter as he gave them the first news. ‘It can't be true!… A thunderbolt from a clear sky!…' Then they went upstairs with Baldassarre, who was also just going up from the court, and moved before them murmuring: