The Sicilian - Mario Puzo [136]
The Mass was coming to its conclusion; the worshippers were going to the altar rail to receive Holy Communion. Some of Guiliano’s men along the walls were kneeling to receive. They had confessed to Abbot Manfredi at his monastery the day before and were pure, since they would not have to commit their crime until after this ceremony.
The multitude of worshippers, happy with the Easter rising of Christ, cheerful for the washing out of their sins, exited the cathedral and filled the piazza going on to the avenue. The Cardinal went behind the altar and his acolyte pressed upon his brow the conical mitre of an Archbishop. With this headdress the Cardinal seemed a foot taller, the elaborate gold scrolls on the front of the miter gleamed over his rugged Sicilian face; the impression was one of power rather than holiness. Accompanied by a flock of priests, he started on his traditional steps of prayer at each of the four chapels of the cathedral.
The first chapel held the tomb of King Roger I, the second chapel that of the Emperor Frederick II, the third held the tomb of Henry IV, the last chapel held the ashes of Constanzia, the wife of Frederick II. These tombs were of white marble inlaid with beautiful mosaics. There was another separate chapel, the silver shrine, holding a thousand-pound statue of Saint Rosalie, the patron saint of Palermo, which the citizens of the city carried through the streets on her holy day. In this shrine were the remains of all the archbishops of Palermo, and it would be here that the Cardinal himself would be buried when he died. It was his first stop, and when he knelt to pray, it was here that Guiliano and his men surrounded him and his retinue. Other of Guiliano’s men sealed off all the exits to the shrine so no alarm could be given.
The Cardinal rose to his feet to confront them. But then he saw Pisciotta. He remembered that face. But not as it was now. Now it was the face of the devil come for his soul, to roast his flesh in hell. Guiliano said, “Your Eminence, you are my prisoner. If you do what I say you will not be harmed. You will spend Easter in the mountains as my guest and I promise that you will dine as well there as in your palace.”
The Cardinal said angrily, “You dare to bring armed men into this house of God?”
Guiliano laughed; all his feeling of awe had vanished in the delight of what he was about to do. “I dare more,” he said. “I dare to reproach you for breaking your holy word. You promised a pardon for me and my men and you did not keep that promise. Now you and the Church will pay.”
The Cardinal shook his head. “I will not move from this holy place,” he said. “Kill me if you dare and you will be infamous all over the world.”
“I have that honor already,” Guiliano said. “Now if you do not do what I command, I will have to be more forceful. I will slaughter all your priests here, then bind and gag you. If you come with me quietly, no harm will be done to anyone and you will be back in your cathedral within the week.”
The Cardinal crossed himself and walked toward the door of the shrine indicated by Guiliano. This door led to the back of the cathedral where other members of Guiliano’s band had already commandeered the Cardinal’s official limousine and chauffeur. The huge black car was decorated with bouquets of Easter flowers and flew the pennants of the church at each side of the radiator grille. Guiliano’s men had also commandeered the cars of other dignitaries. Guiliano guided the Cardinal into his limousine and sat beside him. Two of his men also seated themselves in the rear of the car, and Aspanu Pisciotta got into the front seat beside the chauffeur. Then the procession of cars wound its way through the city, through the patrols of carabinieri who saluted them. At Guiliano’s orders, the Cardinal waved back in benediction. On a deserted stretch of road the Cardinal was made to leave the car. Another band of Guiliano’s men were waiting for them with a litter to carry the Cardinal. Leaving the vehicles and chauffeurs behind them,