Omerta - Mario Puzo [66]
Monza shrugged. “I cannot let my fate be decided by what a woman puts in her vagina.”
The Fissolini cosca met early that Sunday morning. The nephews and sons-in-law had to decide whether or not to kill Fissolini’s younger brother also, to avoid his vengeance. Certainly, the brother must have known of the seduction and, by not speaking, condoned it. Astorre did not take any part in that discussion. He simply made clear that the wife and children could not be harmed. But his blood chilled at the ferocity of these men over what seemed to him not so grave an offense. He realized now how merciful the Don had been with him.
He understood it was not only a sexual matter. When a wife betrays her husband with a lover, she lets a possible Trojan horse into the political structure of the cosca. She can leak secrets and weaken defenses; she gives her lover power over her husband’s Family. She is a spy in a war. Love is no excuse for such treachery.
So the cosca assembled Sunday morning for breakfast in the home of Aldo Monza, and then the women went to mass with the children. Three men of the cosca took Fissolini’s brother out to the fields—and to his death. The others listened to Fissolini hold court with the rest of his cosca gathered around him. Only Aldo Monza didn’t laugh at his jokes. Astorre, as an honored guest, sat next to Fissolini.
“Aldo,” Fissolini said to his nephew with a raffish smile, “you’ve become as sour as you look.”
Monza stared back at his uncle. “I can’t be as cheerful as you, Uncle. After all, I’m not sharing your wife, am I?”
At the same time, three men of the cosca grabbed Fissolini and held him to his chair. Monza went into the kitchen and came back with his bag of veterinary tools. “Uncle,” he said, “I am teaching what you have forgotten.”
Astorre turned his head away.
In the bright Sunday-morning sunlight, on the dirt road leading to the famous Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a huge white horse cantered slowly. On that horse was Fissolini. He was fastened to the saddle with wire, and his back was supported by a huge wooden crucifix. He almost looked alive. But on his head, like a crown of thorns, was a nest of twigs filled with green grass to form a mound, and mounted on that nest were his penis and testicles. From them, running down his forehead were tiny spiders of blood.
Aldo Monza and his beautiful young wife watched from the steps of the church. She started to cross herself, but Monza struck down her arm and held her head straight to see. Then he shoved her out into the road to follow the corpse.
Astorre followed her and guided her to his car to take her to Palermo and safety.
Monza made a move toward him and the woman, his face masked with hate. Astorre gazed at him quietly and raised a warning finger. Monza let them go.
. . .
Six months after the killing of Limona, Nello invited Astorre for a weekend at his villa. They would play tennis and bathe in the sea. They would feast on the fantastic local fish, and they would have the company of two of the prettiest dancers at the club, Buji and Stella. And the villa would be clear of relatives, who would be attending a huge family wedding in the countryside.
It was beautiful Sicilian weather, with that particular shadow to the sunlight that kept the heat from being unbearable and made the sky a startling canopy overhead. Astorre and Nello played tennis with the girls, who had never seen a racquet before but hit out lustily and sent balls flying over the fence. Finally Nello suggested they go for a walk on the beach and a swim.
The five bodyguards were enjoying themselves in the shade of the verandah, the servants bringing them drinks and food. But this did not relax their vigilance. For one thing, they enjoyed watching the lithe bodies of the two women in their bathing suits, speculating about which of them was better in bed, and all agreeing on Buji, whose vivacious speech and laughter gave evidence of a higher potential for arousal. Now they prepared for the walk on the beach in good humor, even rolling up their trouser legs.