Family Business
Family Business
By Don Corleone
The cold October rain was always a welcome relief to Camilla. She found it difficult to understand why people always judged things by their surface appearance. Take the rain. It was the only remedy for the harsh heat of the summer, and with the rains came the relief from the high temperatures that had plagued the town of Rovigo for nearly all of the summer months. Camilla had never come become accustomed to the summer heat here in the outskirts of Venezia. She wished she had listened to her mother and stayed in her native land of Albania, high up in the mountains. But when she was young, the allure of Venezia, greatest city in all the world, called to her with a pull she could not resist. Oh, to be young enough to go back and do it all over… to have lived a life of peace and contentment, instead of the misery….
Her sewing needle jammed up into her finger, startling her back out of reverie. She looked down, alarmed at the prospect of ruining her embroidery. No, no blood. Just drops forming on her finger. She stuck her finger in her mouth to suck the droplet off, hoping it dried soon. She only had two days left to finish Adelina’s confirmation dress and it had to be just perfect. The only chance her granddaughter had to escape the horror that was daily life in Rovigo was to attract the eye of a young, kind (and if she was lucky, handsome) soldier in the Doge’s guard. She was struck by the irony, that her granddaughter’s best hope lay in marrying a soldier of the Doge’s army… the same act that started the events in motion that led her and her family to this bleak existence. All those years ago…. she could still see her handsome young Matteo, shiny breastplate on and helmet in hand, asking her father for her hand in marriage. And of course, standing closely behind, the perennial scowl etched upon his harsh features, Matteo’s oldest friend, Monsignor Giuseppe Ardaro (may he burn in the furnace of Gehenna), though he was only a lowly aiutante, an acolyte, in those days.
Alas, Matteo had had a kind, trusting heart, and in the end it had cost him everything, even his life… and more. And she herself had suffered terribly at the hands of Monsignor Ardaro. Once Matteo was dead, she was helpless. Monsignor Ardaro immediately asked her to renounce the Patriarch of Constantinople and her Orthodox faith. He insisted she take an oath of loyalty to the Pope. When she refused, he put her on trial as a heretic. She pleaded with him, begged him. But it was all in vain. Giuseppe crazed her body once, yes. But he craved revenge even more now. He had murdered Matteo in cold blood, even though Matteo had saved his life several times. Giuseppe’s affections for Camilla were no match for his bloodlust and need for revenge, even if it was that desire that had given birth to his malevolent spirit in the first place. She still remembered the savage glee in Monsignor Ardaro’s eye, when he cut off first one, then her other thumb. She remembered the words he hissed into her ear through the pain… “You chose foolishly, whore. Nothing you can offer to me now can save you. You are filthy with Matteo’s stink, and I won’t sully myself with you. But I will teach you. You will learn just how wrong you were…”
She had lasted a full 7 minutes with her feet in the fire. She had screamed, cried…. The pain had been blinding. She was convinced she had seen Jesus Christ himself at several points, and certainly his mother. When the flesh on the soles of her feet charred and then peeled back, exposing the bone, the pain became unbearable. She had thought she could make it as a martyr. She had been wrong. So wrong. She sobbed heavily and with her last remaining strength, she wailed “Pentirso! Pentirso!” (I repent). And with that one word, her Orthodox faith, and what remained of herself and her family, were gone. Monsignor Ardaro gloated triumphantly. He waited a moment more, then raised his hand, and called for pieta, mercy for the repentant woman. He smugly ordered the guards to lift Camilla off the tripod that held her dangling over the fire. He chuckled when they released her, her weight transferring to the burned mess that was once her feet and she collapsed under her weight and the pain. He strode up to her one more time, and when he was sure nobody else could hear him, he murmured at her “And to think, I would have made you mine once. You never should have humiliated me and chosen Matteo”.
Camilla shook herself back to the present. Adelina’s dress wouldn’t finish itself. She scolded Vito and sent him out for firewood. Aah, Vito. What a sweet, innocent boy. And sadly, how stupid. She wondered if he was even aware of the world around him. He spent most of the day standing still, staring into space. She had lost count of how many times she had wiped the drool out of the corner of his mouth before she finally resigned and allowed it to accumulate. His vacant eyes betrayed no emotions, not even a flicker of recognition..
Camilla watched Vito walk out the door. Physically, he reminded Camilla of Marco himself at his age. He had just joined the cavilliere and had made Matteo so proud. The day Marco joined the regiment was the last day of Matteo’s life and the last day Camilla would ever remember as peaceful. They had had such high hopes. With Marco’s entry in the cavilliere, Matteo could count on a land grant from the Doge. Unlike other Italian feudal states, and even his predecessors, Doge Jacopo IV demanded the life’s service (20 years) not only of a man, but one of his sons before he would bequeath him with land. With Marco’s acceptance of the pledge, the family’s position was secured, possibly for all time. At least it was until Monsignor Ardaro poisoned Matteo, tortured Camilla as a heretic, and eventually murdered Marco’s wife Rosa when giving birth to their fourth child. Even though Marco had served 18 years of his 20 year pledge, and even though he had to remain in Rovigo to care for his idiot son, crippled mother and 3 other children, Doge Jacopo had been merciless. He had the guardia evict them from their house that very day. All they had left was the one room shack with the fireplace in the center they now occupied.
Adelina staggered through the door. She was disheveled, her clothes ripped, mud was in her hair. She cried and whimpered and collapsed into Camilla’s outstretched arms. “They almost got me, Grandma. They almost took my virture! And there were four of them!” Camilla tensed. She knew without asking who was responsible. She knew that Monsignor Adaro’s pupils had attacked beautiful Adelina on her way home. Something must have happened for them to have stopped. If they had gotten her into such a vulnerable position, she would already have been ruined. “What stopped them, angelina?” Camilla asked her granddaughter as she soothed her and stroked her hair. “Vito” she said excitedly. I never saw him coming. They had just torn my shift, when I saw Vito’s face appear over the head of the boy who was on top of me. He hit the boy in the head with one of the logs. Grandma, I think he killed them!” Camilla shivered…. Vito was doomed. Unless…
When Marco arrived home later that afternoon, Camilla called him over to her stool immediately. She explained the events of the day. Surprisingly, Marco showed no reaction. He nodded quietly and seemed to pensively consider the options left to the family. When Camilla finished the tale and had proposed the one possible resolution she could imagine, she looked deeply into his eyes and asked only once “Are you sure you can do it, Marco?” Marco grimly looked her in the eye and said “I have waited since the death of Rosa for this day. The Lord has forsaken this house. He cannot expect protection for his jackals any longer”. “SILENCE!!!” Camilla shouted. “Monsignor Ardaro is no servant of God, no matter what the authorities might say.” Marco nodded, but Camilla suspected he hardly cared anymore whether he was saved or damned, and probably hadn’t for some number of years.
The knock at the door caught them all unaware. Marco opened the door and greeted the visitor, none other than Monsignor Ardaro himself. “Good evening, Camilla, Marco. I am certain you know why I am here”, the evil priest chuckled. Monsignor Ardaro seated himself at the head of the table, his gaze daring Marco to challenge him on it. Marco let it pass unacknowledged and poured him a glass of wine. “Please monsignor, my boy, he’s not right in the head. He meant no harm. He doesn’t know his strength”. “The youth will be hung tomorrow, his body will be cast over the garbage cliff for the crows to peck at”, Monsignor Ardaro stated, matter of factly. “There is no hope for him or his immortal soul”. Camilla hobbled over and took a seat at the table beside Monsignor Ardaro. “Giuseppe, please. I have suffered enough. My family has suffered enough. Please, there must be something”. Camilla shivered in revulsion as the familiar hungry smile crossed Monsignor Ardaro’s face. “Oh, I suppose for the right price, I might relent to a quick beheading and an actual funeral” Ardaro smiled. “Adelina”, Camilla murmured sadly. Monsignor Ardaro grinned wickedly. “So, you see her resemblance to you in your youthful days as well, eh Camilla?” “Yes, she would make a decent offering. Unlike you, her womb is unsullied by that despicable Matteo. IF she is pristine, she may be my whore. I will put her up in a house closer to the cathedral, and I will visit her from time to time as is my right. Any children that come of this, well, they will have to be tended to by you and by her. I will not offer them my name. I offer this in exchange for Vito’s pardon.”. Marco forced himself to resist the urge to strangle the priest right then and there. “We’ll bring her to the rectory tonight, Monsignor” Marco managed to stammer.
Several hours later, Marco drove the cart up from his shack to the rectory. Young Adelina, dressed in a provocative dress sat with a doomed look, sat on the seat beside him. As he drove the cart up to the rectory he adjusted the oil skins to cover the vegetables he carted to the market each morning. He braked the cart just outside the guardhouse next to the rectory. “I’m here to see Monsignor Ardaro” Marco said softly. “We know damn well why you, and SHE, are here!” the leering, grinning guardsmen laughed. “He’ll be right out”. The monsignor walked out from the courtyard to stand alongside the wagon. His hand strayed up to Adelina’s exposed young thigh. “HEY!”, Marco yelled. “Not until we have the pardon”. “Yes, yes, of course” the monsignor chuckled. “We’re in luck. The bishop and his staff are visiting this evening. I will have Monsignor Toredo take my dictation for the pardon and the bishop himself will sign for it, when I tell him to. I will only do that when I see your daughter present herself, nude, to my bedchamber at the top of the stairs. I will be up there in 5 minutes exactly. If she isn’t there, I will have my guardsmen torture your son to death. If she is, you will receive the pardon”. Marco leaned down and whispered in Adelina’s ear. She violently shook her head. Marco whispered some more. Adelina began to cry. Sadly, she climbed down from the wagon and headed up the stairs. Marco climbed down and walked over to the guards. He produced a pair of bones and asked if any of them would be interested in a throw. Of course, they all joined in. Monsignor Ardaro triumphantly entered the house and proceeded to his personal chapel, to offer a small prayer before ‘retiring for the night’.
Monsignor Ardaro found it impossible to concentrate on his prayer. He had dreamed about how to seduce Adelina without raising the suspicion of the townsfolk. This was too perfect. God really did favor him. He said a quick word of thanks, extinguished the candles in the house and headed up the stairs. He paused, lit a candle, and then entered his bedchamber. From beneath the trappings around his bed, he saw a long, creamy exposed thigh and other sights of female flesh that excited him to no end. He cackled happily and stepped back into the hall. “Monsignor Toredo, have you prepared the pardon?” he gleefully asked. “Yes brother, but I find this a filthy business indeed”. “Never you mind, Luigi”, Monsignor Ardaro mused. He tapped briefly on the Bishop’s door “My lord, my lord Stefano. I am satisfied. The D’Amelio family is pardoned for all offenses this night”. “As you will have it”, the bishop called out from within the bedroom. He stepped out and signed the pardon extended by Monsignor Toredo. Snatching it from him the moment the ink was to the page, Monsignor Ardaro walked rapidly back to his own bedroom and entered. He set the pardon upon his washing table and announced “You may bring this to your family in morning…. if you’re able to walk”. He removed his dressing gown and entered his curtained bed, feeling much younger than his fifty something years. The moment he passed the curtain, he sensed something was wrong, and noticed a small pool of blood at the foot of the bed. He looked to the head, and saw not Adelina, but Camilla outstretched on the bed beside him. “Oh darling, you always wanted me. And those new feet you gave me… they made it so hard for me to come to you. But I did it…It cost me dearly, but I made it to you.” “There must be some mistake”, Monsignor Ardaro managed to stammer. “No mistake at all darling”, Camilla cooed. “Adelina is here”. “Adelina!”….” Camilla called out. The curtains parted and there stood Adelina, bearing a small dagger. She handed it to Camilla and said “The pardon is clear. It says… ‘for all offenses this night’ and it’s signed by the bishop himself”. Cold terror ran down the spine of the monsignor. “Wait” he whimpered, “you must allow me my last confession”. Camilla smugly looked him in the eye and said “Do you really think there’s anybody listening to you on the other side anymore” as her hand brought the dagger down…
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