Do you have an official position here?
No, God save us from officialdom. Here everything works out for the best because its all done unofficially. Im an elementary-school teacher, but I also act as a liaison between my people and the local authorities. Heres another example of good, common sense: when a school principal gave our community some classrooms to use, we instructors came over from Tunis and created our school. But the superintendency is officially unaware of this situation.
The Arab quarter was a piece of Tunis that had been picked up and carried, unaltered, to Sicily. The shops were closed be
cause it was Friday, the day of rest, but life in the narrow little streets was still colorful and animated. First, Rahman showed Montalbano the large public baths, the social meeting place for Arabs from time immemorial; then he took him to a smoking den, a cafith hookahs. They passed by a sort of empty storefront, inside of which an old man with a grave expression sat on the floor, legs folded under him, reading from a book and offering commentary. In front of him, sitting the same way, were some twenty boys listening attentively.
Thats one of our imams, explaining the Koran, said Rahman, who made as if to keep walking.
Montalbano stopped him, resting a hand on his arm. He was struck by the truly religious absorption of those kids, who once outside of the empty store would again let loose, shouting and scuffling as always.
Whats he reading to them?
The eighteenth sura, the one about the cave.
Montalbano, without knowing the cause, felt a slight tremor in his backbone.
The cave?
Yes, al-kahf, the cave. The sura says that when some young people prayed to God not to let them be corrupted and led astray from the path of the true religion, He made them fall into a deep sleep inside a cave. And so that there would always be total darkness inside the cave, God reversed the course of the sun. They slept for about three hundred and nine years. Also with them was a dog, who slept in front of the entrance, but on guard, with his front legs extended
He broke off, having noticed that Montalbano had turned very pale and was opening and closing his mouth as if gasping for air.
Whats wrong, signore? Do you feel ill, signore? Do you want me to call a doctor? Signore!
Frightened by his own reaction, Montalbano felt faint, his head spinning, legs buckling. Apparently he was still feeling the effects of the wound and the operation. A small crowd, meanwhile, had gathered around Rahman and the inspector. The teacher gave a few orders, and an Arab ran off and quickly returned with a glass of water. Another arrived with a wicker chair in which he forced Montalbano, who felt ridiculous, to sit. The water revived him.
How do you say in your language: God is great and merciful?
Rahman told him, and Montalbano did his best to imitate the sounds of the words. The small crowd laughed at his pronunciation, but repeated them in chorus.
Rahman shared an apartment with an older colleague named El Madani, who was at home at that moment. Rahman made tea while Montalbano explained the reasons for his malaise. Rahman was entirely unaware of the discovery of the two young murder victims in the Crasticeddru, whereas El Madani had heard mention of it.
What Id like to know, if youd be so kind, said the in
spector, is to what extent the objects placed inside the cave correspond to what the sura says. As far as the dog is concerned, theres no doubt whatsoever.
The dogs name is Kytmyr, said El Madani, but hes also called Quotmour. Among the Persians, you know, that dog, the one in the cave, became the guardian of written communication.
Does the sura say anything about a bowl with money inside?
No, theres no bowl, for the simple reason that the sleepers have money in their pockets. When they awake, one of them will be given money to go buy the best food there is. Theyre hungry. But the one sent on this mission is betrayed by the fact that the coins are not only no longer current, but are now worth a fortune. People follow him back to the cave, hoping to find a treasure, and that is how the sleepers come to be discovered.
But in the case that concerns me, Montalbano said to Rahman, the bowl can be explained by the fact that the boy and girl were naked when placed inside the cave, and therefore the money had to be put somewhere.
Agreed, said El Madani, but it is not written in the Koran that they were thirsty. The water receptacle has no connection to the sura.
I know many legends about sleepers, Rahman added, but none of them says anything about water.
How many sleepers were there in the cave?
The sura is vague about thisthe number is probably not importantthree, four, five, six, not counting the dog. But it has become common belief that there were seven sleepers, eight with the dog.
If its of any use to you, said El Madani, you should know that the sura is a retelling of an old Christian legend, the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus.
Theres also a modern Egyptian drama, Ahl al-kahf, which means The People of the Cave, by the writer Taufik al-Hakim. In it the young Christians, persecuted by the emperor Decius, fall into a deep sleep and reawaken in the time of Theodosius the Second. There are three of them, as well as the dog.
Therefore, Montalbano concluded, whoever put the bodies in the cave must have known the Koran, and perhaps even the play by this Egyptian.
Mr. Burgio? Montalbano here. Im calling you from Mazara del Vallo. Im about to leave for Marsala. Sorry to be in such a rush, but I have to ask you something very important. Did Lillo Rizzitano know Arabic?
Lillo? Not a chance.
He couldnt perhaps have studied it at university?
Impossible.
What was his degree in?
In Italian, with Professor Aurelio Cotroneo. He may
have even told me what his thesis was about, but I cant re
member.
Did he have any Arab friends?
Not that I know of.
Were there any Arabs in Vig around 42-43?
Inspector, the Arabs were here at the time of their domination, and now theyve returned, poor things, but not as dominators. No, during that period there werent any. But what are the Arabs to you?
It was already dark outside when they left for Marsala. Livia was cheerful and animated. She was very happy to have met Valentes wife. At the first intersection, instead of turning right, Montalbano turned left. Livia noticed immediately, and the inspector was forced to make a difficult U-turn. At the second intersection, Montalbano did the exact opposite: instead of going left, he turned right, and this time Livia was too engrossed in what she was saying to realize it. To their great astonishment, they found themselves back in Mazara. Livia exploded.
You really try a womans patience!
But you could have kept an eye out yourself !
Your word is worth nothing! You promised me before leaving Vig that youd empty your head of all your concerns, and instead you keep getting lost in your own thoughts.
Im sorry, Im sorry.
He paid very close attention for the first half hour of road, but then, treacherously, the thought returned: The dog made sense, as did the bowl with the money, but not the jug. Why?
He hadnt even begun to venture a hypothesis when he was blinded by a trucks headlights and realized he had drifted left of center and was heading straight into what would have been a ghastly collision. He jerked the wheel wildly, deafened by Livias scream and the angry blast of the trucks horn, and they bounced their way across a newly plowed field before the car came to a halt, stuck in a furrow. Neither of them said a word; there was nothing to say. Livia was panting heavily. Montalbano dreaded what lay in store for him, the moment the woman he loved caught her breath. Like a coward he took cover and sought her compassion.
You know, I didnt tell you earlier because I didnt want to alarm you, but this afternoon, after lunch, I was unwell...
Then the whole incident turned into something between tragedy and a Laurel and Hardy film. The car would not budge, were they even to f
ire cannons at it. Livia withdrew into a scornful silence. At a certain point, Montalbano abandoned his efforts to pull out of the rut, for fear of overheating the engine. He slung their bags over his shoulder, Livia following a few steps behind. A passing motorist took pity on the wretched pair at the edge of the road and drove them to
Marsala. After leaving Livia at a hotel, Montalbano went to the local police station, identified himself, and with the help of an officer woke up someone with a tow truck. Between one thing and the next, when he lay down beside Livia, who was tossing in her sleep, it was four oclock in the morning.
22
To win forgiveness, Montalbano made up his mind to be affectionate, patient, pleasant, and obedient. It worked, and Livia soon cheered up. She was enchanted by Mozia, amazed by the road just under the waters surface, which linked the island with the coast, and charmed by the mosaic flooring of white and black river pebbles in an ancient villa.
This is the tophet, said their guide, the sacred area of the Phoenicians. There were no buildings; the rites were performed out in the open.
The usual sacrifices to the gods? asked Livia.
To god, the guide corrected her, the god Baal Ham- mon. They would sacrifice a firstborn son, strangle him, burn him, and put his remains in a vase that they would bury in the ground, and beside it they would erect a stela. Over seven hundred of these stelae have been found here.
Good God! exclaimed Livia.
It was not a very nice place for children, signora. When Dionysius of Syracuse sent the admiral Leptines to conquer the island, the Mozians, before surrendering, slit their chil
drens throats. However you roll the dice, fate was never kind to the little ones of Mozia.
Lets get out of here, said Livia. I dont want to hear any more about these people.
They decided to leave for the island of Pantelleria. They stayed there for six days, finally without quarrels or arguments. It was the right place for Livia to ask one night:
Why dont we get married?
Why not?
They wisely decided to think it over calmly. The one who stood to lose the most was Livia, since she would have to move far from her home in Boccadasse and adapt to a new rhythm of life.
As soon as the airplane took off, carrying Livia away with it, Montalbano rushed to the nearest public telephone and called his friend Zito in Montelusa. He asked him for a name and got his answer, along with a Palermo phone number, which he dialed at once.
Professor Riccardo Lovecchio?
Thats me.
A mutual friend, Nicolto, gave me your name.
How is the old carrottop? I havent heard from him for a long time.
The loudspeaker requested that passengers for the Rome flight go to the gate. This gave him an idea as to how he might see the man immediately.
Nicoldoing well and sends his regards. Listen, Professor, my names Montalbano. Im here at Punta Ri airport and have roughly four hours before I have to catch another flight. I need to speak with you. The loudspeaker repeated the request on cue, as if in cahoots with the inspector, who needed answers, and fast.
Listen, are you Inspector Montalbano of Vig, the one who found the two young murder victims in the cave? Yes? What a coincidence! You know, I was going to look you up one of these days! Come see me at home, Ill wait for you. Heres the address.
I, for example, once slept for four days and four nights in a row, without eating or drinking. Of course, contributing to my sleep were some twenty-odd joints, five rounds of sex, and a billy club to the head from the police. It was 1968. My mother got very worried and wanted to call a doctor. She thought I was in a deep coma.
Professor Lovecchio had the look of a bank clerk. He didnt show his age of forty-five; a faint glint of madness sparkled in his eye. He was fueling himself on straight whisky at eleven in the morning.
There was nothing miraculous about my sleep, Lovec
chio went on. To achieve a miracle you have to be out for at least twenty years. In the Koran, againI think its in the second suraits written that a man, whom the commentators identify as Ezra, slept for a hundred years. The prophet Salih, on the other hand, slept for twenty years, he, too, in a cave, which isnt the most comfortable place for getting a good sleep. Not to be outdone, the Jews, in the Jerusalem Talmud, boast of a certain Hammaagel, who, in the inevitable cave, slept for seventy years. And lets not forget the Greeks. Epimenides woke up after fifty yearsin a cave. In those days, in short, all you needed was a cave and somebody who was dead tired, and you had a miracle. The two youngsters you found had been sleeping for how long?
From 43 to 94. Fifty years.
The perfect time to be woken up. Would it complicate your deductions if I told you that in Arabic one uses the same verb for sleeping and dying? And that a single verb is also used for waking up and coming back to life?
What youre saying is absolutely spellbinding, but Ive got an airplane to catch and have very little time. Why were you thinking of contacting me?
To tell you not to be fooled by the dog. And that the dog seems to contradict the jug and vice versa. Do you understand why?
Not a bit.
You see, the legend of the sleepers is not Oriental in origin, but Christian. In Europe, it was Gregory of Tours
who first introduced it. It tells of seven youths of Ephesus who, to escape the anti-Christian persecutions of Decius, took refuge in a cave, where the Lord put them to sleep. The cave of Ephesus exists; you can even find it in the Italian Encyclopedia. They built a sanctuary over it, which was later destroyed. The Christian legend says theres a spring inside the cave. Thus the sleepers, as soon as they awoke, drank first, then sent one of their own in search of food. But at no time in the Christian legend, or in any of its endless European variants, is there any mention of a dog. The dog, whose name is Kytmyr, is purely and simply the poetic invention of Mohammed, who loved animals so much he once cut off a sleeve so as not to wake up the cat that was sleeping on it.
Youre losing me.
But theres no reason to get lost, Inspector. I was merely trying to say that the jug was put there as a symbol of the spring that was in the Ephesian cave. So, to conclude: the jug, which thus belongs to the Christian legend, can only coexist with the dog, which is a poetic invention of the Koran, if one has an overview of all the variants that the different cultures have contributed to the story . . . In my opinion, the person who staged that scene in the cave can only be someone who, in his studies...
As in comic books, Montalbano saw the lightbulb flash in his brain.
He screeched to a halt in front of the Anti-Mafia Commission offices. The guard on duty raised his submachine gun in alarm.
Im Inspector Montalbano! he shouted, holding up his drivers license, the first thing hed happened to grab. Short of breath, he ran past another officer acting as usher and yelled: Please inform Mr. De Dominicis that Inspector Montalbanos on his way up, quick!
In the elevator, taking advantage of being alone, Montalbano mussed up his hair, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his top button. He thought of pulling his shirt a bit out of his trousers, but decided that would be excessive.
De Dominicis, Ive got it! he said, panting slightly, closing the door behind him.
Youve got what? asked De Dominicis, alarmed by the inspectors appearance and rising from his gilded armchair in his gilded office.
If youre willing to give me a hand, Ill let you in on an investigation that
He stopped, putting a hand over his mouth as if to prevent himself from saying anything more.
Whats it about? Give me a hint, at least.
I cant, believe me, I really cant.
What am I supposed to do?
By this evening at the latest, I want to know what the subject of the university thesis of someone named Calogero Rizzitano was. His academic adviser was a certain Professor
Cotroneo, I think. He must have graduated in late 1942. The subject of this thesis is the key to everything. We could deal a mo
rtal blow to
Again he interrupted himself, became bug-eyed, and said to himself dementedly:
I havent said anything, you know.
Montalbanos agitation infected De Dominicis.
What can we do? The students ...at the time...why, there must have been thousands! Assuming the records still exist.
What are you saying? A few dozen, not thousands. At the time, all the young men were in the service. It should be easy to find out.
Then why dont you look into it yourself ?
They would be sure to waste a great deal of my time with their red tape, whereas for you they would open every door.
Where can I reach you?
Im heading back to Vig in a hurry; I dont want to lose track of certain developments. Phone me as soon as youve got any news. Call me at home, dont forget. Not at the office; there may be a mole there.
He waited until evening for De Dominiciss call, which never came. This did not worry him, however; he was sure that De Domenicis had swallowed the bait. Apparently, even for him, the going had not been easy.
280
The next morning he had the pleasure of seeing Adelina the
housekeeper again.
Why havent you been around these days?
Whattaya mean, why? Cause the young lady dont like seein me bout the house when shes here, thats why.
How did you know Livia was gone?
I found out in town.
Everybody, in Vig, knew everything about everyone.
Whatd you buy for me?
Im gonna make you pasta con le sarde,and purpi alla car
rettera for after. Exquisite, but deadly. Montalbano gave her a hug.
Around midday the telephone rang and Adelina, who was cleaning the house top to bottom to get rid of every trace of Livias presence, went to answer.
Signuri, Dr. Didumminici wants you.
IM2 The Terra-Cotta Dog (2002) Page 19