The Piccinino, Volume 2 (of 2); The last of Aldinis

by George Sand

As for the monk, he abstained from thinking of anything whatsoever unconnected with the enterprise he was directing. With watchful, penetrating eye, his ear on the alert for the faintest sound, he also watched closely every movement, every change of position on the part of his companions. At the slightest sign of relaxation of their hold upon the reins, at the slightest suspicious swaying of their hooded heads, he would have rescued them from the danger of dozing and falling from their mules.

After riding fifteen miles, they changed mounts at a sort of hermitage which seemed to be deserted, but where they were received in the darkness by pretended muleteers, of whom they inquired as to the road leading to the famous village of Tre-Castagne, and who answered, as they grasped their hands and held their stirrups, that all roads led to Rome. Fra Angelo distributed money, powder and bullets, which he carried in his mendicant's wallet, to all those persons whom he met and who were provided with that eloquent countersign; and, when they approached the end of their journey, Michel had counted a score or more of men, muleteers and peddlers, monks and peasants, who belonged to their party. There were even three in woman's dress,—young fellows whose beards had not yet grown nor their voices changed. They were very well made up, and played their parts to perfection. They were ready to serve as messengers or scouts at need.

The Piccinino's situation and the circumstances of his capture were as follows. The murder of Abbé Ninfo had been executed and proclaimed with an insane audacity altogether contrary to the young chief's habitual prudence. To kill a man, and to boast of it by an inscription left upon the very spot where the crime was committed, instead of concealing his body and removing every trace of the deed—a very simple matter in a region like that of Ætna—was certainly a desperate performance, a sort of challenge hurled at destiny in a moment of frantic excitement. But Carmelo, wishing not to shut himself out forever from his cherished retreat at Nicolosi, had left it in perfect order, in case of an investigation which should result in domiciliary visits. He had hastily stripped his luxurious boudoir and hidden all his treasures in an excavation under the house, of which it was almost impossible to find the entrance or to suspect the existence. And about sunrise he had shown himself in the village of Nicolosi, perfectly placid and in excellent spirits, thus laying a foundation for an alibi, if the police, taking for true the declaration written on the base of the Destatore's cross, should conceive suspicions of him and make inquiries as to what he was doing at that time. The murder of Abbé Ninfo had been committed at least two hours earlier.

Having taken these precautions, Carmelo had ridden through the village, making some purchases for a journey of several days, and informing his acquaintances that he was going to look at some farming lands in the interior of the island.

He had started for the Nebrodes mountains in the northern part of Sicily, having determined to pass some days with certain brigands affiliated to his own band, until the investigations and searching about Catania had probably come to an end. He knew the methods of the police of the province; they were zealous and fierce at first, then timid and knavish, and, finally, tired and slothful.

But the affair at the Destatore's cross had made a deeper impression on the ruling powers than an ordinary murder. This had a political bearing, and seemed to be related to the great sensation of the moment, Agatha's declaration and her son's appearance on the world's stage. Severe orders were sent out rapidly in all directions. Carmelo was not safe in the mountains, especially as his acolyte, the false Piccinino, had joined him, and thus drew upon him all the danger of pursuit. Carmelo did not choose to abandon that savage, bloodthirsty man, who had given him abundant proofs of boundless devotion and blind submission, and who continued to play his part to the end with proud and unwearying courage.

He determined, therefore, to arrange for his escape before providing for his own safety. The false Piccinino, whose real name was Massari, and who was called Verbum Caro because he was a native of the village of that name, was endowed with a brute courage that nothing could daunt, but was as stupid as a buffalo in a frenzy. Carmelo went to the seashore with him, and tried to find a boat to take him to Sardinia. But, despite the precautions with which he surrounded that step, the owner of the boat betrayed them as smugglers to the revenue officers on the coast. Verbum Caro fought like a lion, and was half dead when he finally fell into the hands of his enemies. Carmelo was slightly wounded, and both were taken to the nearest fort, to be turned over to a squad of campieri, in which were two men who recognized the false Piccinino from having seen him during a skirmish at another part of the island. They so testified before the magistrate at Cefalù, and there was great rejoicing because the famous chief of the dreaded band was in custody. The real Piccinino was supposed to be one of his confederates, although Verbum Caro insisted that he had known him only three days, and that he was a young fisherman who proposed going to Sardinia with him as he had business there.

Carmelo replied to the questions that were asked him with a presence of mind and a talent for deception which would have secured his release at any other moment; but the country was intensely excited; so they decided to send him to Catania with his dangerous companion, for further proceedings, and they were placed in charge of the campieri, who decided to take them to Catania by the road leading through the mountains to the centre of the island, deeming it the safer way.

But they were attacked in the outskirts of Sperlinga by a few brigands who had already learned of the arrest of the two Piccininos; but, just as the prisoners were about to be set free, an unexpected reinforcement came to the aid of the campieri and put the brigands to flight. It was during this action that the Piccinino was adroit enough to throw among the assailants a paper wrapped around a stone, which he had in his hand ready for the first opportunity. Malacarne, whom he had recognized among his would-be rescuers, was an active, intelligent man, a former member of his father's band and a loyal friend to Fra Angelo. He had picked up the note and carried it to its address with valuable additional information.

In the fear, well-founded as we have seen, of an attack in the Nebrodes mountains and an attempted rescue of the Piccinino, the authorities at Cefalù had tried to conceal the importance of this capture, and the escort of the prisoners made no display when they set forth. But the same authorities had despatched an express to Catania to ask that a detachment of Swiss troops be sent to Sperlinga to meet the escort, and to say that they would halt there and wait for them. The brigands of the mountain, who were on the alert, had waylaid and killed the messenger; and, having ascertained beyond question, by reading his despatches, that the prisoner was their leader, they had tried, as we have seen, to rescue him from the hands of his escort.