Chapter 88: The Bandit: IV
As they stepped into the firelight’s circle, the bandits saw something that made them freeze. The unnatural, deathly pallor on both the young woman’s face and Diavolaccio’s. The sight was so strange and solemn that everyone stood up. Everyone except Carlini, who remained seated, calmly eating and drinking.
Diavolaccio walked forward in complete silence and laid Rita at the captain’s feet. Then everyone understood the reason for that ghostly pallor. A knife was buried to the hilt in Rita’s left breast. Every eye turned to Carlini. The sheath at his belt was empty.
"Ah," the chief said slowly, "now I understand why Carlini stayed behind."
All violent men appreciate a desperate act. Perhaps none of the other bandits would have done the same thing, but they all understood what Carlini had done.
"Now then," Carlini said, rising and approaching the corpse, his hand resting on the butt of one of his pistols, "does anyone dispute my claim to this woman?"
"No," the chief replied. "She’s yours."
Carlini lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the firelight’s reach.
Cucumetto posted sentries for the night, and the bandits wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay down before the fire. At midnight the sentinel raised the alarm, and instantly everyone was alert. It was Rita’s father, who had brought his daughter’s ransom in person.
"Here," he said to Cucumetto, "here are three hundred gold coins. Give me back my child."
But the chief, without taking the money, gestured for him to follow. The old man obeyed. They both walked beneath the trees, through whose branches the moonlight streamed. Cucumetto finally stopped and pointed to two figures grouped at the base of a tree.
"There," he said. "Ask Carlini for your child. He’ll tell you what’s become of her." And he returned to his companions.
The old man remained motionless. He sensed that some great and unforeseen disaster hung over his head. Finally he moved toward the group, unable to understand what he was seeing. As he approached, Carlini raised his head, and two forms became visible to the old man’s eyes. A woman lay on the ground, her head resting on the knees of a man seated beside her. As he raised his head, the woman’s face became visible. The old man recognized his child, and Carlini recognized the old man.
"I expected you," the bandit said to Rita’s father.
"Monster!" the old man returned, staring with horror at Rita, pale and bloody, a knife buried in her chest. A ray of moonlight poured through the trees and illuminated the face of the dead.
"Cucumetto violated your daughter," the bandit said. "I loved her, so I killed her, because she would have been sport for the entire band."
The old man said nothing and grew pale as death.
"Now," Carlini continued, "if I’ve done wrong, avenge her." He withdrew the knife from the wound in Rita’s chest and held it out to the old man with one hand, while with the other he tore open his vest, exposing his heart.
"You’ve done well!" the old man returned in a hoarse voice. "Embrace me, my son."
Carlini threw himself, sobbing like a child, into the arms of his lover’s father. These were the first tears the man of blood had ever shed.
"Now," the old man said, "help me bury my child."
Carlini brought two pickaxes, and the father and the lover began to dig at the foot of a huge oak beneath which the young woman would rest. When the grave was complete, the father kissed her first, then the lover. Afterward, one taking the head, the other the feet, they placed her in the grave. Then they knelt on each side and said prayers for the dead. When they finished, they covered the corpse with earth until the grave was filled. Then, extending his hand, the old man said, "I thank you, my son. Now leave me alone."
"But-" Carlini replied.
"Leave me, I command you."
Carlini obeyed, rejoined his comrades, wrapped himself in his cloak, and soon appeared to sleep as soundly as the rest.
It had been decided the night before to change their camp. An hour before daybreak, Cucumetto woke his men and gave the order to march. But Carlini wouldn’t leave the forest without knowing what had become of Rita’s father. He went to the place where he’d left him and found the old man hanging from one of the oak’s branches, which shaded his daughter’s grave.
Carlini then swore bitter vengeance over the dead body and the tomb. But he couldn’t complete this oath. Two days later, in an encounter with the authorities, Carlini was killed. There was some surprise that, since he was facing the enemy, he’d received a bullet between his shoulders. That surprise ended when one of the brigands mentioned to his companions that Cucumetto had been positioned ten paces behind Carlini when he fell. On the morning they’d left the forest, Cucumetto had followed Carlini in the darkness and heard his oath of vengeance. Like a wise man, he’d anticipated it.
They told ten other stories of this bandit chief, each more remarkable than the last. From north to south, everyone trembled at the name of Cucumetto.
These stories were frequently discussed between Luigi and Teresa. The young woman trembled hearing them, but Luigi reassured her with a smile, tapping the stock of his excellent rifle, which shot so accurately. And if that didn’t restore her courage, he’d point to a crow perched on some dead branch, take aim, pull the trigger, and the bird would fall dead at the tree’s base.
Time passed, and the two young people had agreed to marry when Luigi turned twenty and Teresa nineteen. They were both orphans and needed only their employers’ permission, which they’d already requested and received.
One day, while discussing their future plans, they heard two or three gunshots, and suddenly a man emerged from the woods near where the two young people grazed their flocks and hurried toward them. When he got close enough to be heard, he called out, "I’m being pursued! Can you hide me?"
They knew full well this fugitive must be a bandit, but there’s an instinctive sympathy between Roman brigands and Roman peasants, the latter are always ready to help the former. Without a word, Luigi hurried to the stone that sealed the entrance to their cave, moved it aside, gestured for the fugitive to take refuge in this hideout unknown to anyone, closed the stone behind him, then returned to sit beside Teresa.
Moments later, four mounted soldiers appeared at the forest’s edge. Three seemed to be searching for the fugitive, while the fourth dragged a captured brigand by the neck. The three soldiers looked around carefully, spotted the young peasants, and galloped over to question them. They’d seen no one.
"That’s unfortunate," the commander said, "because the man we’re hunting is the chief himself."
"Cucumetto?" Luigi and Teresa cried out simultaneously.
"Yes," the commander replied. "And since his head is worth a thousand gold crowns, there would have been five hundred for you if you’d helped us catch him."
The two young people exchanged glances. The commander had a moment of hope. Five hundred gold crowns was three thousand lire, and three thousand lire was a fortune for two poor orphans about to be married.
"Yes, it’s very unfortunate," Luigi said, "but we haven’t seen him."
Then the soldiers scoured the area in different directions, but in vain. After a while, they disappeared.
Luigi then removed the stone, and Cucumetto emerged. Through the cracks in the granite, he’d seen the two young peasants talking with the soldiers and guessed the subject of their conversation. He’d read in Luigi and Teresa’s faces their steadfast resolution not to betray him, and he drew from his pocket a purse full of gold, which he offered them.