The Viceroys (51 page)

Ferdinando now turned to his brother-in-law:

‘You don't doubt that, do you?… What's your reasoning? Where's your head?…'

Benedetto tried to show that it was they on the other hand who were not reasoning, that children already born should be thought of before those unborn, but Lucrezia and Ferdinando talked him down, both together.

‘The mother's family can think of the daughters! Our brother won't be denying them, will he?… As for the money side, that can be arranged as Palmi wants … If the marriages are dissolved already in fact why not dissolve them in right? Who's gaining from it? Just scandal-mongers!'

Such now was Raimondo's goad. The more difficulties he met on his way the more stubbornly he persisted; and the opposition of his brother, the muttering of outsiders, the almost universal blame urged him to win through in some way unforeseen to all, including himself. He no longer thought that his real passion was freedom, that Donna Isabella as a wife would weigh on him more than his other wife and that she already weighed on him as a mistress. Sticking to his purpose, blinded by opposition, by disapproval, by criticism, he was determined to triumph over
his adversaries, floor them with a blow which would be long talked of …

They were saying, were they, that the enterprise was hopeless, that the double dissolution would never be obtained, that Donna Isabella was condemned to remain in a false position, banned from society, from the prince's own home? He set his feet against the wall, determined to see it through at all costs, against everyone and everything. And Lucrezia, Ferdinando, Donna Ferdinanda, Don Blasco were helping him each for his own reasons and in his own way, plotting to win over the last resistance of Benedetto, who, at the idea of pleasing his wife and capturing the trust, esteem and gratitude of her relations, felt his remorse gradually melting away.

When winter came on and the prince returned from the country the one subject of conversation was the quarrel between the two brothers. Giacomo not only cut Raimondo when they met on the street but would not allow the other's troubles to be mentioned in his presence. For so long, while his younger brother had been in Tuscany or had come and gone to see his mistress, the heritage had remained undivided, and the prince had administered it on behalf of his co-heir and by his power-of-attorney. Now he sent Signor Marco to cut off all connection with his brother, notifying him that he was renouncing the power-of-attorney and wanted accounts handed over at once and the division reached. That little trumpet, Cousin Graziella, was spreading all this far and wide wherever she was, among relations or friends or mere acquaintances, supporting her cousin Giacomo, expressing the great sorrow caused to ‘us of the family' by Raimondo's obstinacy. How could he, anyway, ever hope to get what he wanted? Now it was being said that Donna Isabella was asking for the dissolution of her marriage on the grounds of non-consummation! Who did they think they were taking in? Just because there weren't children? But everyone knew that Fersa had been a great rip as a young man!

Or perhaps they hoped to maintain, as others said, that Donna Isabella had been forced to marry Fersa against her will? That would be a headache for Giulente to prove! ‘What immorality, though, to support a cause condemned by all, bringing the
family such distress! He's come and thrust himself among us, fostered family quarrels, has this lawyer of lost causes!…' She, on her part, foresaw a colossal fiasco …

To begin with, no civil tribunal could annul a marriage contracted under the Napoleonic code of 1819; it had to go to the Bishop's court. But here the whole thing fell to the ground, for Monsignor the Bishop, the Vicar-General Coco, Canon Russo and all the major prelates of the Curia were with the prince against the count, and rightly, knowing how badly Raimondo and the Fersa woman had behaved, and being unable to sanction such a scandal!

On the other hand, the count's and Donna Isabella's supporters were giving out that they were sure of success. Fersa's impotence, his violence to his wife, were affirmed by numbers of people. Pasqualino especially was ringing bells on his master's behalf. ‘Yes, sir;
Cavaliere
Giulente, and not
Attorney
Giulente, had been looking into and organising his
brother-in-law's
case, rather than leave it to some money-grubbing little lawyer. Not that he had much work to do on it, for the nullity motive in Donna Isabella's case was quite plain. Apart from the fact that Fersa wasn't exactly a volcano as a man, her uncle had forced her to take him, with a knife at her throat; quite the opposite to the Signorina Chiara's version! At least the old princess, God rest her soul, had tried to influence her daughter gently, only resorting to threats at the very last after two years of persuading and begging. But how had Donna Isabella's uncle gone about it? Beatings morning and night, from the first moment the girl said “I'd rather die than marry Fersa!” '

Like Pasqualino, all the servants and minor dependants of the family were on the young count's side in spite of the prince's opposition. Raimondo, to acquire sympathy and support, no longer had his clothes sent from Florence or Naples as he had before, but distributed commissions of all kinds in the town, and the tailor, boot-maker, cravat-maker, honoured by having orders from the young Count Uzeda, would extol him to the skies, hold forth in his support, and argue with scandal-mongers. If anyone recalled Donna Isabella's love for Fersa, they would cite innumerable witnesses to the contrary: all the Pinto family servants were ready to come from Palermo and swear on the
Gospel that the little orphan girl had been hit again and again by her uncle and guardian, because he, ignoring the fact that Fersa was of ignoble birth, for all his wealth, was determined she should marry him. It was being said, was it, that the witnesses were suspect and obtained by bribery? They would list the Pinto family's friends in Palermo, Don Michele Broggi, the Cavaliere Cùtica, the Notary Rosa, all above suspicion of corruption and cited by Donna Isabella to attest to the ill-treatment she had been subjected to, her constant refusals. Why, even her uncle himself would come and confirm putting pressure on her!

‘What then?' Cousin Graziella in turn would exclaim. ‘Suppose they do get this marriage dissolved? Do they think they'll ever manage to get the other one dissolved too? Don't they know what Palmi said?' And she would tell how that troublemaker Giulente had written to get the baron too to consent to his daughter's marriage being dissolved and witness that he had forced her to marry Count Uzeda. She must, she said, from love of truth mention that Giulente had refused at first, as it was such a dreadful thing to do, and hoped to hand the job over to the duke, who was an intimate friend of the senator. Ah but the duke had other things to think of! He was still in Turin, looking after his own affairs, and did not want to return to Sicily for fear that his absence during the troubles of the year before might have been misunderstood, and when they wrote to him about Raimondo's business he replied that he would not dream of getting mixed up in it.

Then Giulente, to please his wife, brother-in-law, uncle and aunt, found himself in the position of having to approach the baron himself. ‘D'you know how long he took to write the letter?' added Cousin Graziella, who was well up in every tiny detail. ‘A week! He tore up a whole ream of paper! I assure you! How can one ask a decent person to agree to his daughter's marriage being dissolved, to his grandchildren being fatherless?…' But the letter, full of respectful expressions, compliments, and excuses, had finally been sent off, and Giulente was still awaiting a reply! He'd have to wait some time! For through certain persons in Messina the cousin had come to hear of what the baron, clenching his fists, had said to a friend: ‘I'd rather see them all die first!…'

For in fact ‘poor Matilde', at death's door from distress, indifferent now to all, realising that there was no hope left, would even have agreed to this last demand by her husband. The baron on the other hand swore terrible oaths that never, never while he was alive would his son-in-law succeed in breaking up the marriage. He realised that it was broken in fact, but he wanted Raimondo to stay chained for life and the Fersa never to be able to take before the world the place of his own daughter.

Pasqualino knew that too; but to Donna Graziella's coachman, who was taking his mistress's part and prophesying a fiasco for the count, ‘One thing at a time,' he replied. ‘Let the first case end!… When my mistress is free we can see about freeing the master too!… Now it's not Canons who have to decide, but civil judges. By Victor Emmanuel's law a marriage in church isn't worth a fig, the only one that matters is before the mayor. Down with Francis II! Long live liberty!…'

But Donna Ferdinanda, Lucrezia, none of Raimondo's supporters would be satisfied with a civil judgement; they wanted to legitimise Raimondo's and Donna Isabella's situation before both men and God. So Ferdinando, who was a close friend of Canon Ravesa, an important member of the Curia and owner of a vineyard next door, talked to him every day in his brother's favour. Every day too Don Blasco went to visit the Vicar-General Coco and drummed into him with noisy insistence the propriety, justice and necessity of annulling that marriage; and the irresponsibility, arrogance and rascality of the prince in opposing it.

But the most important person to win over was Monsignor the Bishop, who did nothing now without the approval of Don Lodovico. The latter, convinced that the abolition of religious communities was only a question of time, had lost interest in San Nicola and turned his attention to the Bishop's palace, where his birth, reputation for intelligence, learning and sanctity had flung open all doors. In a short time, as he had been the right hand of the Abbot so he became the right hand of the head of the diocese. His prudent advice, his unique position in relation to all political parties, made him indispensable in many delicate matters when the new political authorities had to be conciliated without the ‘legitimate' ones being betrayed, to save appearances
and serve Christ and Mammon. Now, had he said a word in Raimondo's favour Donna Isabella's marriage would have been annulled; but the Prior's answers to Donna Ferdinanda, who was badgering him to take up her protégée's cause, remained ambiguous, adducing difficulties to be overcome, the embarrassment to which they were putting him.

‘Dissolving a marriage is a serious matter … Your Excellency knows well how justly contrary the Church is to pronouncing sentence of this kind, how it proceeds with leaden feet. There are some proofs and some reasons it cannot accept … These may be perhaps enough for secular judges, whose responsibility is not pledged to the Divine Majesty. I am truly pained to see Raimondo on so wrong a road … After this case will come a second, the scandal is immense … I have my duties to carry out … my conscience …'

‘Conscience?… Conscience?…' Donna Ferdinanda, who was listening to him with shut mouth and set teeth, burst out. ‘Let's leave conscience apart! Why not admit you haven't forgiven him for taking your place and want to make him pay now that you have him in a vice.'

The Prior suddenly went pale, glanced for an instant straight at his aunt, who was staring fixedly at him as if wanting to read his heart. Then he bent his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Your Excellency afflicts me cruelly … You know well that the passions of the world are alien to my heart … that I love my brother as I respect Your Excellency!… Tell Raimondo that; give me a chance of proving it …'

Donna Ferdinanda went straight off to Raimondo to tell him to go and make a personal visit to his brother and recommend himself to him. For a moment the young man rebelled. He was tired of begging and of being humiliated, of paying court to Ferdinando and Giulente to win them over to his case, of prompting Pasqualino and other rumour-mongers. He had already humiliated himself once before Giacomo with no results. He had humiliated himself before Lodovico on that other visit to Nicolosi, when his brother had not deigned to appear. Now he had to throw himself at that Jesuit's feet, ask his pardon for taking his place, beg him to grant not only forgiveness but protection
and support. It was too much, he could bear no more. The mortifications to his self-love stung him more than anything else, made him clench his fists and chew his nails, almost brought tears to his eyes …

But now all his relations and the nobility in general, just back from the country, were siding with the prince. Cousin Graziella was going round saying everywhere that the civil case would not get through either, that the judges would themselves bring an action for false witness against those who had tried to prove lack of consent. Just think of the ecclesiastical case then!

One Sunday, Donna Isabella, who had gone into town for some shopping, returned to Ferdinando's with eyes red.

‘What's the matter?' asked Raimondo, almost brusquely, almost ready to burst out against her who was first cause of all that had happened.

‘Nothing … nothing …' and she began to cry.

He had to raise his voice to hear the reason for her sobs. His mistress had met the Grazzeri and Cousin Graziella in the street. The cousin had turned the other way, Lucia and Agatina Grazzeri had not answered her greeting, pretending not to see her.

Next day he went to San Nicola to visit the Prior.

Lodovico received him with open arms, listened to him with benevolent attention. Raimondo, rather pale, said to him, ‘I implore you to help me …' He was invoking his help to get out of the false situation in which he found himself. It was urgent to legitimise it for a new and powerful reason which no one yet knew, and which he confided to the Prior before anyone else; Donna Isabella was pregnant.

With his eyes almost shut, his head slightly bent, his hands folded in his lap, the Prior looked like an indulgent and friendly confessor. Not a contraction of his face, not a dilation of his chest hinted at the intimate satisfaction he felt to see finally there before him, submissive and almost supplicating, the thief who had robbed him, the person for whom he had been banned from his family and the world.