by Seth Coleman
“What did Elisabetta say?”
“Nothing; I think she was still pretty much in shock, but I did hear her father say that you were not a murderer but a hero.”
“Thank God. I was most concerned about her. What did they do about the wedding plans?”
“They returned to Rome with the pope the following day, and I have not heard anything further.”
“What about Carmine?” Emilio asked.
“Believe it or not, he is still alive, but it would have been better for you two if he had died. He swore it was you who was attacking the monsignor.”
“I am not surprised,” Peppino said. “I knew he would say that, but I don’t know how he could have lived. I felt the knife going into his body.”
“Well, he did live, and even though all of us know the truth, the authorities and the people still have their doubts.”
“Why?”
“Because it was your hunting knife that stabbed Carmine; your initials are on the handle. It backs up Carmine’s version of what happened.”
“Yeah, I know. I recognized it as soon as I saw it. I should have taken it with me, but I dropped it before we started over the wall.”
“Unfortunately for you, the knife that was used as evidence when Carmine was stabbed the first time was a different one. The monsignor must have either switched it himself or had the police chief switch it for him. He was a devious man, that monsignor; he probably figured he would hold onto it to use against you at some opportune time...like now.”
“Like now.” Emilio grunted softly. “Then we’re done. The people in the crowd will never believe the truth. They trusted the monsignor and distrust the baroness. They will think she paid them off, just like she did Carmine the first time.”
“The baroness paid off Carmine after he got stabbed in the jail?” Elena asked.
“Yes,” said Nicola. “It was not a payoff, but she helped support the family until he could get back on his feet. Everyone knew about it, and no one thought she was doing it out of the goodness of her heart, which I believe she was.”
“That makes sense,” Elena said. “Then Peppino shows up in Brancaleone all educated and with a pretty bride-to-be, and they were glad to put all that behind them. Now this brings it all out again. The gossip is bound to be that he is guilty.”
“I’m afraid she’s right, Peppino, and that brings me to the next point,” Nicola continued. “I do not think it is safe for you to go back to Brancaleone, not now at least, and I am not sure if you will ever be able to go back. There are murmurings that if the Mano Nera sees you they will kill you.”
“Who are the Mano Nera?” asked Ester. The entire room shifted their eyes to her. “What?” she asked innocently.
Abramo answered, but addressed his friends first. “My wife is from northern Italy, where they are not so prevalent.” He then turned to his wife. “The Mano Nera, or Black Hand, is a group formed by peasants right here in Naples as a way to force the more privileged to do what they wanted. When they thought the aristocrats got out of hand, they would send a threatening letter making their demands. If they were not met, someone often died. It is the same today.”
“But why do they call themselves the Black Hand?” she asked.
“Good question,” he continued, “with an interesting answer. It was the name given to them by the aristocrats, because every letter they received was smudged with black marks from dirty peasant hands, hence the name, Black Hand.”
Nicola added, “The name stuck, and later they began to sign the letters with an impression from a hand first rubbed in ashes. Now it is their signature, and it gets attention. Many thought that I was in the Mano Nera because our demands are similar, a better life for the poor. The difference is that they use their power for selfish gain, and I refused to go along with them. My band was never a part of their group, and because of it I receive threats from them all the time. I am more concerned about them than the authorities. At least I can see officials when they are dressed in uniforms or stand out in some other way. The Mano Nera can be invisible, can be anywhere, and can be any peasant. That’s why when I am out in public, especially in Calabria, I wear disguises. I recognized several of them in the crowd that day.”
“Do you know if Carmine is a member?” Emilio asked.
“I think you could bet on that.” Nicola nodded. “And I am sure he has their ear. Nowadays I don’t think the Mano Nera are just peasants. They’ve grown in number and have their people in high places. In this case the police department, some churches, as I am sure the monsignor was a member, along with the bishop and some of the city and county officials.”
Peppino sat up a little straighter, obviously concerned. “Do you think my family is in danger?”
“Possibly, but I tend to doubt it. Your mother is quite a diplomat and knows how to protect her own,” Nicola said, understanding his fear.
“Will you keep an eye out for them?” Peppino asked.
“Mine too?” Emilio chimed in.
“Yes, of course I will, both of your families. Now, let’s get to something a little bit brighter. Abramo tells me that you are thinking of going to New York. Is that correct?”
“That’s our plan at the moment,” Peppino answered, looking toward Elena. “We are hoping that Elena wants to go with us.”
“I spoke to my mother superior about it yesterday,” Elena said, smiling. I told her my ‘brother’”—she exaggerated the word—“was moving there and was my only family. I thought she would be against it, but she surprised me and said she thought it might be a good idea and that if I wished to continue on as a novice, she would write a letter of introduction for me to the Convent of the Sacred Heart in New York City. Evidently there are so many families from Naples living there that she made it sound like I would be moving to another part of Italy. Two of the sisters from Saint Chiara are running a school there, and she thought I might like to join them and become a teacher.”
“That’s wonderful!” Peppino said with strong emotion.
“Then will you go with us?” Emilio asked.
“Yes, but only if you two behave yourselves.” She laughed. “I’ve settled down to the life of a nun, and the two of you sound like you are still running the streets like hooligans.”
They all laughed at her gibe.
“Yeah, but in New York I will be a first-class hooligan,” said Emilio.
“You got that right,” Nicola teased.
“How about me, won’t I have any status there?” asked Peppino.
Abramo laughed. “With your rich heritage, I think they should refer to you as Baron Hooligan.”
They all laughed and Nicola added, “You do know that once you leave here you will no longer be a baron.”
“I know that. To be honest, I was not cut out for it anyway. I will let the title pass along to my brother Vincenzo. I think it will be a better match for the baroness as well.”
“How can he do that if you are the baroness’s only child?” asked Ester.
“She is not my real mother. She adopted me from her sister.”
“Abramo told me her sister lived in the same house. Is that not true?” she asked, looking for confirmation that she had not misunderstood.
“Exactly. Now you see the problem. My real brothers and sisters lived in the same house with my real mother and father, but I was the possession of the baroness. My real parents gave me to her so they could have a better life.”
“I don’t think you are being fair to her,” Nicola said. “She has been very good to you, and she loves you very much.”
“That’s a bunch of bull, Nicola, and how would you know?”
“You know how I know. We became friends while you were at the monastery. When she found out what we were really about, she was supportive, and when she found out what we were really about, she was very proud of you.”
“I am sorry, Nicola; she is good at making people believe what she wants them to believe, and evidently you bought into it. I kno
w how she operates.”
“Wait a second,” Nicola interrupted, “I thought you were getting along well with her. You accepted your position as a baron and were getting ready to live the life of an aristocrat. You can’t tell me that was all an act.”
“Yes, it was! You told me!” He looked at Abramo. “Both of you told me that I would be more help as an aristocrat!” Peppino yelled.
“Shhh, calm down, Peppino; we have neighbors,” said Abramo.
“Sorry, Abramo, Ester.” He lowered his voice. “Nicola, you told me that this was what you wanted me to do. I did it for you, for the cause, for the people. All of it.”
Everyone was quite for a moment. Finally Nicola spoke. “So you think all your efforts were for nothing?”
“Nicola, you all got what you wanted. The people will have their education; the monsignor is gone for good. It even looks like my friend Silouan is going to be helping the abbot with the schools in Calabria, and now you can live out in the open. Everybody gets what they want, and me and Emilio have to get out of town, and if that weren’t the case, I would have been married and locked into the life of a baron for the rest of my life!”
“That’s quite a lot of resentment, Peppino.” Nicola considered his words before continuing. “Let me ask you a question. Who do you think is the most responsible for all the good things that are now happening in Calabria?”
“Clearly that is you, Nicola. And I do not resent that; I am glad. You deserve the honor and a life living with people who will give you the respect that is due to you.”
“Thank you, Peppino; I appreciate your kind words, but there is a truth here we need to examine. Do you remember me telling you that whenever something happens, either good or bad—”
“To go back to the root,” Peppino said, interrupting him. “I know; I remember. How does that apply?”
“I think when we get back to the root; we will all see that the root is you, Peppino.”
“Me? I wasn’t even involved. All I did was cause trouble and then get shipped off to the monastery for four years. Don’t be ridiculous.”
The group remained quiet, considering what Nicola said; most of them agreed with Peppino.
“Abramo, tell Peppino why he is the root of all the good that happened to the people of Calabria.” Nicola held out his hand indicating he was turning the floor over to him.
“Okay. Peppino, we are all sitting here in my apartment today because of you and what you have done. You see only the negative, but there are many positives.”
Peppino looked at him with an expression of bewilderment.
“When we first met you, our militia had not been successful. We were a band of peasants fighting for a cause and who had the admiration of the people but not their backing. Never did we believe any of them would stand up for us. They only did in private, but never in the open. The monsignor trying to hang Nicola is the best example. But who came to his rescue? You, Emilio, and Elena. Now let’s consider that as the day change began to happen. You see bad coming from it, but we see it as the root of much good.”
Abramo held up one hand and started pointing to each finger with the now obvious intention of folding each as he made his point. “Let’s start with Elena.”
“Me?” Elena said, surprised.
“Yes, you. You helped the two of them with their simple plan and almost lost your life. But look how it turned out. You were moved from Bovalino and have lived in Naples, and you evidently have been pretty content for the past four years. Now you are looking to start a new life in America.”
He looked at Peppino. “That would not have happened if two children from Brancaleone had not come to Bovalino that day.” He folded one finger down.
“Now, Emilio,” he said, turning to face Peppino. “How did the two of you become friends? I will tell those who do not know. The tiny town square of Brancaleone has an imaginary line right smack in the middle. The rich on one side and the poor on the other; you all get the picture. Peppino, you would not acknowledge that line, refusing to give up your friendship with Emilio. Had you not done that, we would not have met him that day, and he would not have become a part of our movement. And we are here to tell you that he has been a valuable asset.”
“Hear, hear to that,” Nicola added.
Abramo folded another finger down. “Now let’s get directly to you, Peppino. That day in Bovalino, you three not only saved Nicola’s life, but Peppino, you gave encouragement to all of us. You were not only children willing to fight for a good cause, but one of you was an aristocrat, a future leader of the people. Because of the events of that day, you ended up going to the monastery, where you grew up both mentally and emotionally. And it caused a rippling effect. Through you, Nicola was able to get to know the baroness, a wise woman who continued to shun us publicly while quietly helping us financially. Only Hashem could have known that she would be a friend of the pope, and she was able to arrange a meeting for Nicola with him. Then Nicola finds out that he is not only welcomed, but the pope himself had fought against the Mafia successfully before he was the pope. So now he is on our side! And Nicola was able to inform him about the monsignor. Then you meet with him, get engaged to his niece, and he comes to Brancaleone not just for the wedding but to wisely reassign the monsignor to the Vatican, where he would have been able to keep a watchful eye on him if he had not tripped and died in the fall.”
Nicola interrupted. “Before you go on, Abramo, let me add that the monsignor’s death was not your fault, Peppino; he tripped. Scripture teaches that the Lord gives true followers angels that will keep them from tripping, so to speak.”*
Abramo interrupted, “That Scripture is in Psalms, in the part of the Bible we both agree on. Anyway, it stands to reason that if he tripped…Well, figure it out for yourself. He was a man responsible for much evil.”
“And what about Carmine?” asked Peppino.
“I don’t know; that has not been written yet. We must wait to see what Hashem will do. Anyway, Peppino, I could go on and on,” he said while folding each finger down over and over again. “But we all are here today in some way because of you. Now you look forward to a new life in America.”
Peppino smiled, a little embarrassed, not knowing how to respond, but with a new sense of contentment settling deep into his soul. “I don’t think I could have a better Christmas than being here with all of you.”
“This is a good Sabbath for us too,” Abramo said, picking up a siddur** and kissing it.
“I am going to miss you, Abramo,” said Peppino.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you going to miss me?” Abramo asked, acting a little perplexed.
Peppino looked at the other faces, and they seemed just as bewildered as he was. “Because we are leaving Naples on a boat to New York, and you are staying in Naples. Capisce?”
“No, we’re not.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Peppino, Ester and I are going with you three!”
Peppino was dumbfounded, as was Emilio. “You are going with us?”
“Well, we’re not going to live with you, but yes, we will be going to New York also.”
They all let out a cheer.
Ester chimed in happily, “We are told there are many Hassidic Jews who live in Brooklyn. We want to give our child a chance for a good life in America.”
“Your child?” Nicola asked, surprised.
“Yes,” Abramo said. “Ester is pregnant with our first. The first of many, I hope.”
Everyone was hugging Ester when Elena interrupted. “Wait a second. Peppino, when I said that I might be going to New York with my brother, did you think I meant you or Emilio?”
“Well, no. Did you mean Abramo?”
“No, he is Jewish. I was talking about a Christian brother, although I am not sure Mother Superior understood it that way, and I certainly wasn’t referring to the two of you. Neither of you are what I call true believers.”
/>
“Elena, you are talking in circles. What are you trying to say?”
“Peppino, if you two are not what we would call true believers, who in this room is left?”
It appeared like a light bulb went off in both Emilio and Peppino at the same moment, as they simultaneously exclaimed in disbelief, “Nicola!”
They were all clapping again.
“Well, there is nothing left for me to do here. Like you said, we got what we wanted, and the only thing I have to look forward to is looking over my shoulder for the Mano Nera for the rest of my life. I might as well go with you hooligans…and my friend Abramo and his wife, of course, and my good friend Elena; in other words, my family.”
The rest of the day was spent making plans and talking about their dreams and hopes. Elena and Peppino took a walk to the wharf, and they all shared a delicious Sabbath dinner before leaving. Nicola gave Abramo enough money for his fare and said his good-byes, assuring them he would return by the time the ship left for America.
Notes
* Psalm 91: 11–12
** Jewish prayer book
Chapter 22
-April 1895-
Peppino and Emilio purchased three tickets and Abramo another three on the SS Burgundia scheduled to depart Naples for New York on April 7, 1895. They bought steerage, which was the least expensive and the normal class of travel for those of lower social rank.
By the time the first week of April arrived, they were all filled with anticipation, each having heard fascinating stories of life in America, where jobs were plentiful and the word peasant did not exist.
Abramo invited a friend to join them for Sabbath dinner along with Peppino and Emilio. Saul lived in Brooklyn and had returned to Naples for family business and was scheduled to sail back on the same ship with them. After only three years in America, he was doing well, speaking English, and working as a clerk at an Italian American bank in Manhattan. He traveled home to Italy second class, but was joining them for the return to New York in steerage because it would be more fun. He assured them it would be an experience they would always remember, promising an air of excitement and gaiety from everyone on the voyage—that along with lots of wine and dancing.