AWAKENING (Alfonzo) (14 page)

Alfonzo str
aightened his shirt
.
His engine was revved
a
nd running on all cylinders.
Ay caramba, when it came to that woman he was putty!

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Nico strolled briskly through the hall and opened the door. He’d seen the
shiny
car
s
lining the cobblestone driveway of the secluded estate and determined this meeting was far more important than Alberti let on. He was frisked then shown into the dining hall
. Seated at a
shiny mahogany table were eight of the most powerful men in Europe. Their faces were ones out of the old black and white movies.
They were s
tern, privileged, unforgiving and formidable
men
. Their positions ranged from the Minister of Finance to a media mogul. They were senior men, who sat erect in their thousand dollar suits and when they observed him enter, he
had a
feeling these were the
silent faces of
the
elite members of
organized crime.

His father, Alberti sat at the head of the table
. The q
uestion Nico had about the unsuspecting old man
had been
answered
,
based on
the seating arrangement.
Alberti waved him over and pointed to an empty chair on his right.

Nico sat
. He
nodded
to each man and
used the old tongue to greet them,
“Afternoon, coun
cil
.”

They all nodded.

Uniformed hosts placed thick black cups of coffee and pastries in front of each man before being promptly escorted from the room by arm
e
d guards. The door was then locked and protected by men with semi-automatic machine guns. This, did not faze Nico, he saw such
security throughout his tenure with the Palazzo’s.
Once he stood watchful
like those soldiers, attentive and trained to handle any outward dangers and those within.

Alberti cocked his head to his
son;
no English was spoken in this room. It was
forbidden;
a rule adhered to by the eight. Nico was wise to have begun his introduction in such a way. “You are well?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Alberti turned to the group. “We begin.”

The Minister of Finance addressed Nico. “Tell us
why we should s
pare your life
, Nico.
”

Ah, so this meeting
was a tribunal, a prelude to his execution.
Ironic, his biological father led it. He refrained from showing any sign of disrespect. These were old-fashioned men who watched m
annerisms over words. “I don’t care about my
life;
it’s my soul that matters. If I’m here to plead like a coward for life, I’d rather die with dignity in silence.
”

“You talk boldly, isn’t life worth anything to you?”

Nico thought about it, “But I refuse to barter. Life-death,” he shrugged, “begi
nnings and endings. There’s no valuation I can assign to either of them. Throw the die, pick straws and I’ll accept the decision without argument.”

Another
intervened when he saw Nico’s mind was made-up. The man feared no one. Yet, there were other questions he wished to ask regarding the former Don Palazzo.
“
Loyalty
is the way
, what way did you travel when you broke your pledge to Luzo Palazzo?”

“The road of honor
. I upheld a pledge to someone living over an oath to the dead.”

Complete
silence
ensued as they
absorbed his words, finding the meaning of the statement questionable, perhaps offensive, but Nico did not care. His
final words were honest statements and to avoid punishment he’d forego a route of lies.
Vincent
and the mother who wiped his tears and smiled at his drawings waited. He longed for the
reunion.

“And th
is pledge to the
living,
is it
more to you than your brothers, Nico?”

Here Nico paused. His answer was twofold. “
No pledge is required for my brothers, because there is an unspoken bond held tight by blood and an oath to another can never sever it.”

This answer seemed to satisfy the curious man and a question came from the far end of the table from one who had yet to speak.
“
You are certain the
children with this woman are yours?”

“
Yes.”

“Is there conflict in your heart, young man?”

“No.”

“You find no moral dilemma in what you’ve done
?” Another inquired with a steady gaze.

“
I’m not a priest and even they
’re
human. You’ve asked a man who kills a moral question
. It
shouldn’t surprise you he doesn’t battle a
spiritual
or moral
conscience or else he wouldn’t be in a moral less profession.”

“But
Nico, even an enforcer knows the difference of actions which are wrong and those that are right, no
!”

“
You did not ask about my actions, you asked about my morality, which infers my state of mind.”

“Then I will correct myself. Do you believe you acted inappropriately with the wife of Don Alfonzo?”

“I am
sworn to protect the family of Don Alfonzo
and h
is wife falls within my duties. Her request led to my actions and as the wife of Don Alfonzo, she was given reverence.
I am given many inappropriate orders that if questioned would make me a priest.
”
Nico smirked, “But, as I said, even priests are human.”

Alberti
chuckled at his son’s wit. Ah, his ability to find plausibility in his adulterous act by using their codes
was
refreshing.
Nico
i
s certainly his son
.
“You make an argument that we
will
examine
and
discuss among
ourselves.”

“We can speak openly here
Alberti,
Nico’s relation to you affords him
w
itness. I find fault with it. A woman’s request to be her lover is a disloyalty to her husband.” The Minister of Finance quipped.

Another disagreed. “Is it true the request
came in an hour of desperation as your father informed us before you came
, elaborate
?”

“Yes, she
was distraught. It was the anniversary of her mother’s brutal murder. She unfortunately, discovered the dead bodies
, one which was also
Don Alfonzo’s uncle. So, in the fit of a nightmare she sought me out for comfort
. Her husband was absent and I was there.”

“You could have comforted
another
way
,
Nico.”

“I comforted her, does the way matter,
it
eased her fears?”

The next question came from
Matteo’s
father, “We hold no judgment in men’s external affairs but this is a special case in light of the subject. To settle this matter in my mind, tell me Nico do you love the woman?”

The answer was
an
unequivocal, “Yes.”

“Do you love Don Alfonzo?”

“Yes.” And this was true. Nico answered mechanically
. H
ad they asked this of his sons and Ariana, the answer would have been the same.

The men were silent. They had their answers and it was time to deliberate. Only then did Alberti speak again to his son, “Please, take a seat in the hall. We will call you, when the decision is made.”

Nico took a long gulp of the coffee first and grabbed a pastry, then stood. No sense in starving before he died, he thought as he went into the hall, chewing the light delicacy. He settled atop a
striped settee against
the
wall
, reclined his head
and
close
d his eyes. He was aware he could not leave. The
men at the edge of the hall blocked the exits.
Nico scoffed, he wasn’t concerned with death. They could butcher him now and he would not feel a thing. He was numb. He’d been groomed for this life,
and taught to accept
death. It didn’t matter the means of his demise. Death was death all the same. He’d gone over it many times in his youth and as a boy feared it. Then, when the hopes and dreams of innocence faded, so too did the fear.
L
iving,
meant feeling, in death there was nothing. W
hen you cannot be your own man and are held to a path not of your making, dark slumber becomes a welcom
e
bed.

The men in
side
questioned his
loyalty
and he had none other than love. How could he honor a dead man and forsake love? He would be a dead man living if he had. His mouth twisted downward, loving Ariana and Selange were the greatest treasures a man could have. They bore life, not death and he clung to it because he tired of the grotesque trappings of his
existence
.  As a
youth his passion was to create. Art, literature and things of beauty were his true calling until his hopes were snatched and
slaughtered
by the hand of fate.

He must have dozed
, why else would there be a hand on his shoulder asking him to wake? He blinked and sat forward.

“Go in.”

Nico stretched his mouth then entered the room again. On the table beside Albert
i
sat a large jeweled box. When he joined the men, only his father spoke this time. “They have deliberated Nico. I
had to
abstain. Before I tell you the decision, there is something I must show you.” He opened the lid of the small chest and removed an old book, letters and pictures. He spread them out in front of his son. The men were silent as he told the history. “These men, each of them here are loyal and honorable Nico. Their grandfathers were as well.
Working class men in a time of hardship when Italy was ruled by a monarchy.
The King in an ugly part of
our
history squashed
poor citizens
p
rotesting the price of bread in Naples
. You know of the history. What you do not know is this.” He slid a picture of a
pretty
woman
with
high cheekbones, refined and exotic in a colorful dress
.
“Her name is Semira
Af
izwusi
.
Her first name means Highest Heaven
to some and fulfillment to others
. She was a young woman from Eritrea
who the
King
fell in love with
. She became
his mistress, several years before th
is unfortunate incident.
He housed her in a stately home in Calabria
and
showered her with gifts
. H
ere are the love letters
from the king to Semira.
This is your great great
-
grandmother
,
Nico;
it is also your legacy.”

Nico touched the picture, traced his hands over the old fading photograph, surprised at how well it survived even with the cracks along
its
edges
from time and climate changes
. It was carefully preserved as were the others and the beauty of the woman made him smile.
He felt the woman
’s
soul, as she smiled at him from a distan
t
past. His affinity to Ariana and Selange explained in this moment. His ancestry shared with the women he loved was a connection that existed long before they met. He nodded, yes history cemented the open cracks and he understood more about himself.

“Nico, the birth of her sons, your great grandfather and his brother, a twin like you was a well-kept secret. When the King was assassinated, Semira took
an
offer of
protection
from a
wealthy man in Calabria
. He became her
husband, thus the Giacanti name. He was against the monarchy, yet he pro
tected Semira from being ostracized or worse. The people of Calabria loved her
and
throughout her life she gave to the farmers and taught languages at a local school. She spoke many different languages and was known for her love of art and poetry.”