“There’s a problem. Giaraffa, who used to be the administrator of the public property of the church of Palermo, resigned without any explanation and has moved with his family to Catania.”
“Do you know donde vive?”
“In Catania? No. But I can ask his sister, who still lives here because she’s married to—”
“Can you go there right now?”
Donna Eleonora had barely finished asking the question before don Serafino was already out the door.
Consolata Giaraffa, who was married to don Martino Giampileri, a respected notary in town, was quite grateful to don Serafino because the court physician, years before, had saved a daughter of hers from an illness about which nobody understood anything. She was a woman with an open heart who spoke her mind.
“I need to know where your brother Stefano is living in Catania. I have to go and see him.”
Consolata became worried.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I just want to talk to him,” don Serafino replied, trying to minimize the matter.
But Consolata was not a woman who gave up easily.
“I know everything there is to know about by brother. Maybe you can spare yourself the journey and just talk to me.”
Well, why not?
“Could you tell me why he resigned and left Palermo?”
“He no longer got along with Bishop Turro Mendoza.”
“But before that, they got along?”
“Absolutely?”
“Before what?”
Consolata did not answer, but only went red in the face. It was clear the subject was a source of pain and anger.
“Let me help you,” said don Serafino. “Before he took Carlino out of the choir?”
“So you already know all about it!” Consolata burst out. “That stinking rascal of a bishop grabbed Carlino one afternoon, took him into his study, and had his dirty way with him in there. That night the child started complaining and crying and told his mother everything. The following morning my brother went and denounced the bishop.”
Don Serafino opened his eyes wide.
“Really?!”
“Yes, sir!”
“And to whom did he report this?”
“To the Grand Captain of Justice, the prince of Ficarazzi. Who promised he would discuss the matter with the Holy Royal Council.”
“Do you know if they discussed it?”
“Of course they discussed it. It was during the session of May the twentieth. Then he called on my brother and told him that they needed more proof, and that he would take care of it himself.”
“And how did it turn out?”
“What happened was that one day later, a priest by the name of Scipione Mezzatesta paid him a call and told him he might benefit from a change of scene. My brother threw him out. Three days later, as he was playing in the street in the early afternoon with three little friends, his eldest son, eleven years old, was nabbed by two men and forced into a carriage. He was gone until that evening. When he returned, he said that they’d taken him to a house in the country, beat him bloody with a stick, and then brought him back to Palermo at nightfall, telling him to tell his father that he’d better clear out within a week, or else. And so my brother went to Catania. But what’s happened now? Is there something new?”
“Yes. And this time I’m hoping to nail Turro Mendoza once and for all.”
“May the Lord help you.”
Donna Eleonora wasted no time. She’d just finished dining with don Serafino when the secretary of the Council came in, handed her the book in which he wrote his reports of the sessions, and then left.
They found what they were looking for in the summary of the proceedings of the twentieth of May.
The Grand Captain of Justice, begging the pardon of His Excellency the Bishop Turro Mendoza for what his function obliges him to say, brings to the attention of their Excellencies the Councillors that a denunciation has been made by one Stefano Giaraffa against His Excellency the Bishop Turro Mendoza, who is alleged to have committed the foul deed upon the plaintiff’s son, named Carlino, a boy of six and a half years.
His Excellency the Bishop, upon hearing these words pronounced, humbly asked His Magnificent Excellency the Viceroy permission to absent himself for the duration of the session so that it could proceed without the hindrance of his presence.
H.E. the Bishop having been granted permission and having exited, the Grand Captain asked His Magnificent Excellency the Viceroy whether said question, concerning the highest representative of the Church in the Kingdom of Sicily, rather than be put to discussion by the entire Council, might not be more properly debated directly with the person of the Viceroy, he being the born Papal Legate and as such the sole person to whom His Excellency the Bishop owed obedience and submission, with no constraint obtaining thereto by the letter of the Law.
His Magnificent Excellency the Viceroy replied that, as His Majesty King Carlos had expressly recommended that any use he made of the Apostolic Legacy must be of the utmost discretion, and it was better that he make no use of it at all, and as the matter concerned a vexata quaestio that could create discord between the Kingdom and the Papacy, it did not therefore seem to him expedient at that moment to exercise this prerogative of his.
The Grand Captain of Justice then informed the Council that, given the gravity of the charge, he had without further delay taken steps to discover the truth.
And he had learned that fifteen days before the denunciation, the boy’s father, Stefano Giaraffa, administrator of the public properties of the Church of Palermo, had been relieved of his duties by H.E. the Bishop for embezzlement and misappropriation of funds and had filed a denunciation against him—a denunciation which the Grand Captain had recovered amongst the papers of one of his officers. Two scribes who had worked with Giaraffa had also, moreover, declared under oath that, upon learning of his dismissal, Giaraffa had made obscure threats against the person of H.E. Turro Mendoza.
Given the aforementioned findings, the Grand Captain proposes that the Council not proceed with the denunciation and that a procedure for high calumny be insituted against said Giaraffa.
The Viceroy declared himself to be of the same opinion. As the rest of the Council, to a man.
Upon returning to the Hall of Council, and learning of the Council’s conclusions, H.E. Turro Mendoza besought His Magnificence the Viceroy to suspend the charge of calumny against Giaraffa, that the populace might forget that act of infamy as soon as possible and not derive therefrom further grist for the mill of malicious gossip against his person, of which there was already too much in circulation.
His Magnificence the Viceroy granted the request.
“It seems clear,” don Serafino commented, “that the Grand Captain and the bishop conspired before the meeting of the Council to put on a little act. Just as it’s clear that the denunciation for misappropriations is false and conveniently backdated. And the two scribes were either bought or threatened.”
Donna Eleonora, for her part, remained silent. And for so long that at a certain point don Serafino, summoning all his courage, ventured to ask her:
“What are you thinking, my lady?”
“Estoy pensando que cuando Su Majestad el Rey advised my husband not to use his powers as Papal Legate, yo no estaba presente, and therefore I can ignore this advice. There is nothing written down. What do you think?”
“Do you intend to avail yourself of it?!” don Serafino asked, alarmed.
“Does esta situación make you afraid?”
“A little, if you’ll forgive my frankness.”
“Por qué?”
“Because every time a viceroy has acted as born Papal Legate he’s had the support of the King, but a good part of the Sicilian Church has rebelled.”
“Lo sé. Only as a last resor
t,” said the marquesa, “could I use my authority as Papal Legate to strip him of his powers. I could already have done so, because he stirred up la población contra de mi, que represento la persona del Papa.”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
“Because he would still have been free to continue his horrible misdeeds sobre los niños. And I want to stop him. I want him to die in prison.”
She fell silent again. Then she said:
“Tomorrow morning I shall order el Gran Capitan de Justicia y el Juez de la Monarquía to come to the palace at nine o’clock. I want you to come, too, even if you don’t take part in the meeting. I feel safer if you’re nearby. Entretanto, please go back to this woman, ahora mismo, and have her tell you where her husband lives in Catania. I want to see him. He must know that justice will be served.”
Early the following morning, before don Serafino left the house, a very worried Doctor Virgadamo came to him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I went to Mariano Bonifati’s house to see how Cenzino was doing, but nobody was home. The door and windows were all shuttered, and the neighbors couldn’t tell us anything. I found ten laborers outside the locked front door, not knowing what to do. They couldn’t get inside to work, and they had no news from Bonifati.”
Don Serafino broke into a cold sweat.
A terrible thought crossed his mind.
What if their disappearence was the work of the bishop? It was quite possible he’d learned of his visit to try and convince Bonifati to make the denunciation, and to cover himself he’d nabbed Bonifati and his whole family.
“What can we do?” Virgadamo asked him.
“We can’t do anything,” the court physician replied through clenched teeth. “All we can do is hope we’ll see them alive again.”
What enraged him the most, and practically drove him out of his mind, was his feeling of powerlessness.
For this reason he got to the palace early, so he could tell donna Eleonora what Virgadamo had said to him. The marquesa made no comment. The skin tone of her face had suddenly turned wan.
Don Serafino’s news was in fact the first thing she talked about with the Grand Captain of Justice, who begged donna Eleonora to delay the session and sent for Aurelio Torregrossa, who was the finest of his men, a lawman born and bred who knew Palermo and environs like the back of his hand. He assigned Torregrossa the task of searching at once for Mariano Bonifati and his family.
At last the door to the study was closed, and the Council session began.
The marquesa had time to utter three words, “I thank you . . . ” before she was interrupted by some insistent knocking at the door.
“Come in!” said donna Eleonora, a bit miffed.
The door came open and Aurelio Torregrossa appeared.
He looked confused and uncertain.
“I beg your pardon, but I don’t know how to—”
“Get to the point,” said don Filippo.
“Early this morning two guards were attacked for no reason by a man armed with a club, and—”
“I don’t understand why you’re here wasting our time telling us this story,” an infuriated don Filippo interrrupted him, “when I myself ordered you to—”
“Please let me finish, I beg you. The man was arrested, but then started shouting that he wanted to speak with the court physician. They tried everything to shut him up, but it was no use. And so then he said he wanted to speak with you, my lord Grand Captain. He says it’s a question of life and death. Knowing you were here, my men brought him here to the palace. I’ve had a look at him, and he does not seem mad.”
“Did you tell you his name?”
“He doesn’t want to say it unless you’re present.”
“Excuse me, my lady,” said don Filippo, standing up. “I’m going to go and hear what—”
“No, wait,” said donna Eleonora, who was, after all, a woman and therefore curious. “I want to hear too.”
Torregrossa went out and then returned holding by the arm a middle-aged man with torn clothes, face swollen from punches, and a gashed eyebrow with blood pouring out of it.
He was apparently unable to speak and needed to recover his composure. Donna Eleonora sat him down and asked for some water to be brought to him.
“What is your name?” the Grand Captain asked him.
“Mariano Bonifati,” the man replied.
The first person to recover from the general shock was donna Eleonora.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Turro Mendoza Makes His Counter-Move
El protomedico está aquí,” she said in a comforting voice. “Would you like to speak en su presencia?”
“Yes.”
They sent for don Serafino, whom donna Eleonora had sent into the next room. The moment he saw Bonifati his face broke into a smile.
“If I’m here, it’s because of you,” Bonifati said to the physician. “You called me a coward because I was afraid to denounce the bishop, and since that moment I haven’t slept a wink. And so tonight I gathered my family together and took them somewhere safe. Then I attacked the two guards so that I would be arrested. I was worried that if I just came on my own to make the denunciation, the bishop’s men might be watching the guards outside the palace. At any rate, the guards and me are even. I gave it to them and they gave it right back to me. And here I am, at your service.”
Don Serafino looked at donna Eleonora, who signaled to him to proceed.
“Are you prepared to denounce Bishop Turro Mendoza, and to confirm this in court, for committing the foul deed against your son?” asked the physician.
“Yes.”
The Grand Captain stood up and called Torregrossa.
“With the Viceroy’s permission, go into the office with Signor Bonifati and take his denunciation. Then be sure to get Signor Bonfati some refreshment and lodge him in our office. Given the dangerous situation he’ll be in once he files the denunciation, I shall hold you personally responsible for any attempts to harm him and for anything that might happen to his family.”
Donna Eleonora intervened.
“As far as his family is concerned, tengo una idea mejor. Signor Bonifati, tell Signor Torregrossa where they’re hiding. They should be brought here, under a military escort. I want them to be lodged at the palace until the bishop is safely locked up.”
The session lasted an hour. The Judge of the Monarchy was of the same opinion as donna Eleonora—that is, that they must not bring the Apostolic Legacy into play. The matter should be handled through ordinary procedures.
The person to make the accusation would therefore be the Grand Captain of Justice.
The Captain then said that in that case, they must take into consideration that such a foul deed called for the immediate arrest of the offender as soon as the authorities had a certain amount of evidence in hand.
For this they had the ultimate proof: the testimony of the doctor who had treated the boy.
Must they now proceed with the arrest?
Donna Eleonora replied that in her opinion it was better to wait until the second denunciation was made by Giaraffa. And since neither the Grand Captain nor the Judge of the Monarchy knew anything about the matter, she told them the whole story.
And they were all in agreement.
That same day, though quite late in the evening, Turro Mendoza received a visit from someone he really hadn’t been expecting.
It was don Severino Lomascio, former Judge of the Monarchy.
Though he said nothing, the bishop was quite astonished to see him in such a shabby, neglected state, with his shirt in tatters. Only the foxlike eyes were the same as always.
“I thought you were still in jail,” said the bishop.
“Don Esteban let me out the day before yesterday,” said don Severino. “And I who once had my pick of house
s, now that I’m out of jail I don’t know where to go.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because don Esteban has sequestered my two palazzi in Palermo along with the castle of Roccalumera.”
“And what about your family?”
“My wife took our two daughters and went to stay with her sister in Girgenti and doesn’t ever want to see me again. Luckily an old servant of mine gave me a bed and a dish of soup.”
The bishop got scared.
Want to bet that don Severino, reduced as he was to poverty, had come to ask him for money?
“Can I be of service to you in some way?” he asked cautiously.
He had no choice but to ask. To his relief don Severino shook his head “no.”
“The reverse,” said don Severino.
The bishop balked.
“What do you mean, ‘the reverse’?”
“Don’t you know? I mean the other way around.”
“The other way around compared to what?”
“I mean that it’s I who may be of service to you in some way. And you must believe me when I say so.”
“I don’t understand,” said the bishop.
“Well, I’ll explain. This evening, as I was leaving my servant’s house, I ran into a scribe from the office of the Judge of the Monarchy, a fine gentleman for whom I had done a huge favor when he was in office and who has forever remained grateful to me. And this scribe, with the utmost secrecy, revealed something very important to me, something that concerns you directly, which you know nothing about and which constitutes a great danger to you. So I thought it was best if I went out of my way to come here and tell you.”
“Then tell me.”
Don Severino yawned, blew his nose, looked down at his shoetops, and did not answer.
“Well?” the bishop insisted.
“It’s worth gold,” said don Serafino.
“I’ll be the one to determine whether it’s worth gold, after you tell me what this is about,” the bishop retorted.
The Revolution of the Moon Page 16
