JК
The Sicilian :: Puzo Mario
Страница: 206 из 278These six men had power in Sicily that not even the Premier of Italy could exercise. And so the crowd remained outside Prince Ollorto's walls.
The six Mafia chiefs did not ride close together; that would have been a sign of weakness. They rode separately, like independent kings, each carrying his own particular brand of terror. The most feared, riding a mottled gray horse, was Don Siano from the town of Bisacquino. He was now over sixty years of age and his face was as gray and as mottled as the hide of his horse. He had become a legend at the age of twenty-six when he had assassinated the Mafia chief preceding him. The man had murdered Don Siano's father when the Don himself had been a child of twelve and Siano had waited fourteen years for his revenge. Then one day he had dropped from a tree onto the victim and his horse and, clasping the man from behind, had forced him to ride through the main street of the town. As they rode in front of the people, Siano had slashed his victim to pieces, cutting off his nose, his lips, his ears and his genitals, and then holding the bloody corpse in his arms had paraded the horse in front of the victim's house. Afterward he had ruled his province with a bloody and iron hand.
The second Mafia chief, riding a black horse with scarlet plumes above its ears, was Don Arzana of the town of Piani dei Greci. He was a calm, deliberate man who believed that there were always two sides in a quarrel and had refused to kill Silvio Ferra for political purposes, had indeed forestalled that man's fate for years. He was distressed by Ferra's murder but had been powerless to intervene, since Don Croce and the other Mafia chiefs insisted that the time had come to make an example in his area. His rule had been tempered with mercy and kindness, and he was the most loved of the six tyrants. But now as he rode his horse in front of the assembled multitude his face was stern, all his inner doubts erased.
The third man on horseback was Don Piddu of Caltanissetta and his steed's bridle was garlanded with flowers. He was known to be susceptible to flattery and vain of his appearance, jealous of power and murderous to the aspirations of young men. At a village festival, a young peasant gallant had stricken the local women dumb with admiration because he wore bells on his ankles when he danced, wore a shirt and trousers made of green silk, tailored in Palermo, and sang as he played a guitar manufactured in Madrid. Don Piddu had been incensed with the adulation shown this rural Valentino, furious that the women did not admire a real man like himself rather than this simpering, effeminate youth.
The six Mafia chiefs did not ride close together; that would have been a sign of weakness. They rode separately, like independent kings, each carrying his own particular brand of terror. The most feared, riding a mottled gray horse, was Don Siano from the town of Bisacquino. He was now over sixty years of age and his face was as gray and as mottled as the hide of his horse. He had become a legend at the age of twenty-six when he had assassinated the Mafia chief preceding him. The man had murdered Don Siano's father when the Don himself had been a child of twelve and Siano had waited fourteen years for his revenge. Then one day he had dropped from a tree onto the victim and his horse and, clasping the man from behind, had forced him to ride through the main street of the town. As they rode in front of the people, Siano had slashed his victim to pieces, cutting off his nose, his lips, his ears and his genitals, and then holding the bloody corpse in his arms had paraded the horse in front of the victim's house. Afterward he had ruled his province with a bloody and iron hand.
The second Mafia chief, riding a black horse with scarlet plumes above its ears, was Don Arzana of the town of Piani dei Greci. He was a calm, deliberate man who believed that there were always two sides in a quarrel and had refused to kill Silvio Ferra for political purposes, had indeed forestalled that man's fate for years. He was distressed by Ferra's murder but had been powerless to intervene, since Don Croce and the other Mafia chiefs insisted that the time had come to make an example in his area. His rule had been tempered with mercy and kindness, and he was the most loved of the six tyrants. But now as he rode his horse in front of the assembled multitude his face was stern, all his inner doubts erased.
The third man on horseback was Don Piddu of Caltanissetta and his steed's bridle was garlanded with flowers. He was known to be susceptible to flattery and vain of his appearance, jealous of power and murderous to the aspirations of young men. At a village festival, a young peasant gallant had stricken the local women dumb with admiration because he wore bells on his ankles when he danced, wore a shirt and trousers made of green silk, tailored in Palermo, and sang as he played a guitar manufactured in Madrid. Don Piddu had been incensed with the adulation shown this rural Valentino, furious that the women did not admire a real man like himself rather than this simpering, effeminate youth.