“Oh, shut up,” said Giuseppe as he wiped his brow with his handkerchief and tucked in his shirt. “Stop that pathetic whimpering and take your punishment like a man.” That’s what Giuseppe’s uncle used to say to him. “And pull up your trousers.”
Benito did not move.
“I said, pull up your goddamn trousers, murderer.”
“No,” whimpered Benito through the mucus that clogged his mouth. “You made me. You tricked me.”
“I did no such thing,” answered Giuseppe. “You always loved Mari and hated her father. It was you who rigged the pulley system. You who killed him.”
“No,” cried Benito.
“Oh, yes, Benito. You killed him and I am the keeper of your secret. You owe me your very life. You would be drawn and quartered should the village ever discover the truth. Your flesh would be torn from your bones and left for vultures. Your name would never be spoken here again. It would be as if you never lived. And Mari, the one you love so much, she would spit and curse whenever a thought of you arose.”
Benito writhed upon the floor as if the words Giuseppe spoke proved a second defilement.
“And it is I, and I alone, who protects you,” Giuseppe continued with a chilling calmness. “You shall not fail me, Benito. You shall not fail me ever again.”
Giuseppe stepped back from where Benito lay. He walked over to the base of the stairs that led up to his office and picked up a wine bottle sitting there, a bottle infused with a massive dose of Fungi di Santo. He returned to Benito and knelt down. “Listen to me,” Giuseppe said with an odd tone of tenderness. “Pull up your pants and sit up.”
Benito did as he was told.
Giuseppe now set the bottle of wine before Benito. “This is a very special bottle of wine, my finest. Tonight, you are to bring it to the Good Padre. Tell him it is a gift from me, an apology. Tell him I am sorry, that I beg his forgiveness. Tell him I have forgiven Mari, that she has forgiven me, and that all is well in my house. Tell him I will pay a visit to the church in the morning and make my confession. Then you are to open the bottle of wine and insist on sharing a toast with him on my behalf. Tell him you cannot leave until you and he have toasted to peace. Fill his goblet full and watch him drink it down. Then share with him another toast, for the wine is good.” Giuseppe stared into Benito’s eyes. “Do you understand what I ask?”
Benito nodded yes.
“And you shall not fail me?”
Benito nodded.
“Serve me well and you will be much rewarded.” Giuseppe extended the back of his right hand before Benito’s face. “Now kiss my hand and tell me that you love me.”
Bite it, screamed La Piccola Voce, bite the filthy hand that ruins you, that has stolen your life from you. Scar him as he has scarred you!
But the little voice that ranted away inside Benito’s head could not undo the bizarre loyalty that bound him to Giuseppe. And with both his hands Benito took hold of Giuseppe’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “Ti amo,” he said. “I love you.”
In which We Learn
How Bobo & Benito Came to
Hug for the Very First Time
“Dove?”
The focaccia and cheese and tomato sauce made him do it. How could he not tell Mari what he’d made with their sauce? He was in such a state that he hardly recalled the donkey ride into the village. Thank God the moon was nearly full and the road to town free of bandits. He tied off his donkey in the brush outside the gates then snuck stealthily into the village. There, he saw the glow and heard the noise coming from the tavern. He figured here, in the shadow of an alley, with one eye on the tavern, was as good a place as any to lie in wait.
“Where?” Davido repeated an instant after reaching out from the alley’s shadow, collaring the fool, snatching him into the darkness and pinning him against the wall. Davido had been hiding for over an hour and the fool was the first person to exit the tavern whom he recognized.
It took Bobo’s eyes an instant to adjust to the darkness of the alley and the shock of being grabbed in such a manner. But as he made out the face before his, he