The Sicilian

Don Croce rose to his feet and shepherded Michael and Clemenza out of the room with a shooing motion, as if they were chickens entrapped in a yard. Then he turned to Inspector Velardi. "I have treated you with every courtesy this past year though you are a foreigner in my Sicily. And yet here in front of friends and in front of your fellow officers you have shown disrespect to my person. But I'm not the man to hold a grudge. I hope in the near future we can have di

Five days later in broad daylight Inspector Federico Velardi was shot to death on the main boulevard of Palermo.

Two days later Michael was home. There was a family feast – his brother Fredo flew in from Vegas, there was Co

The next morning he slept late, his first truly restful sleep since before he had fled the country. His mother had breakfast waiting and kissed him when he sat down at the table, an unusual sign of affection from her. She had done it only once before, when he had returned from the war.

When he finished eating he went to the library and found his father waiting for him. He was surprised that Tom Hagen was not there also and then realized that the Don wished to speak to him without any witnesses.

Don Corleone ceremoniously poured out two glasses of anisette and handed one to Michael. "To our partnership," the Don said.

Michael raised his glass. "Thank you," he said. "I have a lot to learn."

"Yes," Don Corleone said. "But we have plenty of time, and I'm here to teach you."

Michael said, "Don't you think we should clear up the Guiliano business first?"

The Don sat down heavily and wiped his mouth of the liqueur. "Yes," he said. "A sad business. I was hoping he would escape. His father and mother were my good friends."

Michael said, "I never really understood what the hell was happening, I never could get the sides right. You told me to trust Don Croce, but Guiliano hated him. I thought the Testament being held by you would keep them from killing Guiliano, but they killed him anyway. And now when we release the Testament to all the newspapers, they will have cut their own throats."

He saw his father looking at him coolly. "That is Sicily," the Don said. "There is always treachery within treachery."

Michael said, "Don Croce and the government must have given Pisciotta a deal."

"No doubt," Don Corleone said.

Michael was still puzzled. "Why did they do it? We have the Testament that proves the government was hand in glove with Guiliano. The Italian government will fall when the papers print what we give them. It doesn't make any sense at all."

The Don smiled slightly and said, "The Testament will remain hidden. We won't give it to them."

It took a full minute for Michael to grasp what his father had said and what it meant. Then, for the first time in his life, he was truly angry with his father. His face white, he said, "Does that mean we were working with Don Croce all the time? Does that mean I was betraying Guiliano instead of helping him? That I was lying to his parents? That you betrayed your friends and led their son to his death? That you used me like a fool, a Judas goat? Pop, my God, Guiliano was a good man, a true hero to the poor people of Sicily. We must release the Testament."

His father let him speak then he rose from his chair and put his hands on Michael's shoulders. "Listen to me," he said. "Everything was prepared for Guiliano's escape. I made no bargain with Don Croce to betray Guiliano. The plane was waiting, Clemenza and his men were instructed to help you in every way. Don Croce did want Guiliano to escape, it was the easiest way. But Guiliano swore a vendetta against him and lingered hoping to fulfill it. He could have come to you within a few days, but he stayed away to make a final try. That is what undid him."

Michael walked away from his father and sat in one of the leather armchairs. "There's a reason why you're not making the Testament public," he said. "You made a deal."

"Yes," Don Corleone said. "You must remember that after you were injured by the bomb, I realized that I and my friends could no longer completely protect you in Sicily. You were exposed to more attempts. I had to be absolutely sure you came home safely. So I made a deal with Don Croce. He protected you and in return I promised that I would persuade Guiliano not to publish the Testament when he escaped to America."

With a sickening shock Michael recalled that he was the one who had told Pisciotta that the Testament was safe in America. In that moment he had sealed Guiliano's fate. Michael sighed. "We owe it to his mother and father," he said. "And to Justina. Is she all right?"

"Yes," said the Don. "She is being taken care of. It will take a few months for her to come to terms with what has happened." He paused for a moment. "She is a very clever girl, she'll do well here."

Michael said, "We betray his father and mother if we do not publish the Testament."

"No," Don Corleone said. "I've learned something over the years here in America. You have to be reasonable, negotiate. What good would publishing the Testament do? Probably the Italian government would fall, but maybe it would not. Minister Trezza would be out of a job, but do you think they would punish him?"

Michael said angrily, "He is the representative of a government that conspired to murder its own people."

The Don shrugged. "So? But let me go on. Would publishing the Testament help Guiliano's mother and father or his friends? The government would go after them, put them in jail, persecute them in many ways. Far worse, Don Croce might put them in his bad books. Let them have peace in their old age. I'll make a deal with the government and Don Croce to protect them. And so my holding the Testament will be useful."

Michael said sardonically, "And useful to us if we should need it some day in Sicily."

"I can't help that," his father said with a twitch of a smile.

After a long silence Michael said quietly, "I don't know, it seems dishonorable. Guiliano was a true hero, he is already a legend. We should help his memory. Not let that memory go down in defeat."

For the first time the Don showed a

Michael sighed. "Guiliano had no choice," he said.

"We are more fortunate," the Don said.

It was the first lesson Michael received from his father and the one he learned best. It was to color his future life, persuade him to make terrible decisions he could never have dreamed of making before. It changed his perception of honor and his awe of heroism. It helped him to survive, but it made him unhappy. For despite the fact that his father did not envy Guiliano, Michael did.