Carina did not move into the consulate and, after Paulo’s departure, the household was reduced to a minimum. She installed herself in a bedroom next to the contessa’s sitting room with its own door on to the veranda. The rest of the house was closed off, blinds drawn and the furniture covered in dust sheets; only Gino, with Pietro and his wife, remained on duty.
Prince Scalia had returned to Palermo and Carina dared not go out – but it was her decision to stay and she kept herself occupied. There were books to read and letters to answer. Many were from Harry Carstairs, who was upset he hadn’t heard from her. He made no mention of a romantic interest for himself, but his correspondence was full of other gossip.
The London season is about to begin – and without the presence of Lord Danby! The scoundrel has finally had his comeuppance and been charged for unpaid gambling debts. There’s even talk of him being asked to resign from the club. Can you imagine such a thing?
There was another letter too, from Alice.
Please write soon, dearest. And reassure me you’re in no danger. The British newspapers are on fire with speculation about General Garibaldi. Is it true he is on his way to Sicily? Will he really invade the island?
Carina’s answer was deliberately ambiguous:
I am sorry to have been so late in replying to your last letter. Great events are taking place and everyone in a state of wonderment as to how the present crisis will be resolved. We pray for news of Garibaldi’s arrival every day. My family and Jane Parsons are well and send you their warmest regards.
She was equally misleading to her grandmother:
Mr Goodwin has taken me under his wing and Jane Parsons is a delightful companion. I miss you all but I am in good spirits.
Deception was paramount and she was becoming skilful at artifice. Nonna and Alice would be appalled, Carina thought, but it was crucial her family believed she was in the consulate – and Prince Scalia that she was in Naples. How else could she stay on in Sicily?
The army patrolled the streets day and night and Gino was her only source of information. He told her of posters put up by the secret committee, announcing ‘Garibaldi is coming!’ They were torn down by the police only to reappear the next day and the mood in Palermo was febrile. The government ordered a demonstration of loyalty to the king and Gino described what happened. Twice, Maniscalco shouted: ‘Long live the King of Naples!’ to be greeted by silence from the huge crowd. Then a single voice shouted ‘Long live Italy.’ The people began to cheer and stamp their feet and the Royal Guard opened fire on them. More than a hundred people, including women and children, were wounded and twenty shot dead.
In the days that followed, Carina was stalked by doubt. Threatened with such brutal retaliation, the citizens of Palermo were frightened. She was frightened. Would the Sicilians find the courage to rise up for Garibaldi? Would they? Everything depended on the answer to that question.
Later the same week, Gino came running up the steps with a newspaper. Catching sight of the headline, Carina threw her hands in the air.
On 11th May, an act of flagrant piracy culminated in the landing of armed men at Marsala. It is estimated they number at least eight hundred and are commanded by Garibaldi.
The article was dated 17th May and was already out of date. What had happened since? She had to know and must send a message to Jane at once. The curfew forbade carriages, so Gino would have to go on foot wearing her uncle’s badge and livery. The Denuzio name still counted in a city governed by the Bourbons and he was unlikely to be challenged.
‘What news?’ she wrote, then folded the paper and gave it to Gino.
Carina was on tenterhooks as she waited for his return. She stood on the veranda and looked up to mountains of the Conca d’ Oro where a hundred bonfires glimmered in the darkness. They were lit by rebel groups as a threat to the government and symbol of hope to the people below. Was Ben with them, she wondered? She would like to think he was, but knew he was likely on more deadly business; harrying enemy battalions that ventured into the Interior.
By the time Gino returned, it was midnight and Carina had bitten her nails to the quick. Yes, he had given her letter to the doorman at the consulate. No, he didn’t know if Mr Goodwin or Miss Parsons were at home because he hadn’t enquired. Gino’s expression suggested he had gone beyond the call of duty and Carina bit back her frustration and thanked him.
She was late up the next morning and walked into the sitting room to find Pietro standing by the door. He held a silver salver on which was placed a small white envelope. His expression was so serious, Carina felt the blood drain from her face. Could Maniscalco’s agents be at the door? Gino might have been followed last night and they had come to investigate who was home. God forbid, it might be Prince Scalia himself! There was no one who could save her from him!
Carina plucked the envelope from the tray, took out the card and let out a small cry. ‘Please show the consul in immediately!’
Pietro went to fetch him and Carina tried to compose herself. Relief followed so fast upon panic her cheeks were pink and she dabbed her face with a handkerchief, stuffing it up her sleeve as Mr Goodwin was shown in. He was wearing his official uniform with sash and badge, and looked uncomfortably hot.
‘How good of you to call.’ Carina proffered her hand and then walked out onto the veranda. ‘Pietro, please bring some lemonade for His Excellency.’
Mr Goodwin came forward, taking off his gloves as he sat down. Pietro filled their glasses and then withdrew.
‘Until last night, we had no idea that you were in Palermo. I have orders from London to evacuate all British citizens immediately—’
‘So Garibaldi is marching on the city!’ Carina broke in. ‘Has there been a confrontation?’
‘Indeed there has. Despite reports to the contrary, General Garibaldi won a decisive victory at Caletafimi.’
Good news at last! Carina was so excited she wanted to jump up and shout ‘hurrah’. She restrained herself watching a small lizard run across the terrace, disappearing down the steps as Mr Goodwin continued.
‘Sir Rodney Mundy and I called on Count Maniscalco to enquire as to measures being adopted for the security of British personnel and property in the city. It was made clear to us if the patriots incite the people to rebellion, the city will be shelled by artillery fire. Hence my visit.’
‘How close are the Redshirts? Do you know?’
‘No one knows. Every scrap of information is contradicted by the next, which is exactly how Garibaldi wants it. The element of surprise is crucial to his advance.’
‘And the squadri in the mountains? Do you have news of their campaign?’
‘Skirmishes continue with casualties on both sides. Garibaldi lost one of his best men recently.’
Carina gripped the sides of the cane chair and asked in a whisper. ‘Do you have his name?’
‘Rosolino Pilo was killed two days ago. Acting on false intelligence, Garibaldi ordered him to occupy the high ground above Monreale. Four columns of Bourbon infantry were in the town. He died with a pen in his hand, trying to summon reinforcements.’ Mr Goodwin stopped, alerted by the look in Carina’s eyes. ‘My dear, I hope he wasn’t a personal friend?’
‘Rosolino Pilo was an outstanding soldier. It’s a terrible blow indeed.’
‘I’ve secured you a berth on Admiral Mundy’s flagship anchored in the harbour.’ The consul nodded, rearranging his face into a formal expression. ‘The port is packed with refugees and my wife and Miss Parsons are expecting you to join them. You will be taken on board first thing tomorrow.’
She had sought his protection and Carina was embarrassed. It felt shabby to turn down the offer, but when the Redshirts entered Palermo it was here that Ben would come to find her. She could not leave now!
‘I’m very grateful, sir, but I prefer to remain at home. We’re out of range of Bourbon cannon and stocked with provisions. The house will be kept securely locked until hostilities are over.’
‘If Garibaldi tries to take Palermo, the Bourbon government will destroy the city. Houses belonging to the liberal nobility have already been ransacked—’
‘But my uncle’s not of the liberal persuasion, sir. No Bourbon troops will be sent to his home.’
‘Please consider my proposal and send a message to the consulate by this evening.’ Mr Goodwin finished his lemonade and stood up. ‘It is my duty to ensure your safety. However, if you’re determined to place yourself in danger, there’s nothing I can do prevent you.’
The consul made a stiff bow before Pietro escorted him out. I’ve made him angry, Carina thought, but Jane will understand. A poem was streaming through her head and she must set it down. She hurried to the bureau and collected a sheaf of paper. Carrying the inkwell outside, she put them on the table and started to write.
A thousand men, no more, no more,
A thousand men, no more,
For Italy and Freedom
Sailed to Sicilia’s shore.
For Unity, Italia’s name,
A thousand went to war
O sons of brave Italia
Praise be forever more!
Twenty thousand five and more,
Twenty thousand five.
Enemy with cannon fire
Redshirts to survive.
‘Italy or death’ they swore!
Gallantly they charged,
Garibaldi to the fore,
God above their guard!
A thousand men, no more, no more,
A thousand men, no more,
For Unity, Italia’s name,
Cast strangers from our shore.
For Sicily and Freedom
Raise high the tricolour!
O sons of brave Italia,
Praise be forever more!
The poem came so fast that she scribbled the words, smudging the paper and staining the blotter. When she had it right she would translate it into Italian. It was her tribute to Garibaldi and, given a chance, she would present it to him. A gust of wind blew the papers off the table and Carina went down on her hands and knees, scrabbling on the ground to retrieve them. She stood up and saw black clouds over the mountains. The Sicilians were deeply superstitious, but the oncoming storm was not a bad omen. Garibaldi and the Redshirts would be victorious!