Free Judge Surra by Andrea Camilleri, Joseph Farrell

1
    JUDGE SURRA ARRIVED IN MONTELUSA FROM TURIN A FORTNIGHT after the first prefect of the United Italy, a Florentine called Falconcini, had taken up his post on the island.
    Even before the judge reached the town, a few things about him became known. How? By what means? Perhaps one of the staff who came with Falconcini had known him previously and spread the word.
    For instance, it became known that even though his Christian and family names were Sardinian, he himself was not – his great-grandfather on his father’s side, who was from Iglesias, and who had moved to Turin when the Piedmontese bartered Sicily for Sardinia, had children with a Turinese woman and never again ventured away from the city.
    It was also established that Judge Surra was around fifty, that he was a little less than average height, that he invariably dressed soberly, that he was married with one son whowas a lawyer but that he would be coming to Montelusa on his own.
    At least to begin with.
    Further, that he was a man of few words and kept himself to himself.
    On the other hand, little was known about him as a judge, since he had always been employed inside the ministry and had not seen service in a courtroom.
    The challenge facing him on his arrival was anything but straightforward. It consisted in totally reconstructing a court of law which quite simply no longer existed. In plain terms, the task was to replace the previous president of the court, Fallarino, whom Garibaldi’s followers wished to arrest on account of his intractably pro-Bourbon views – he had refused to recognise the Savoy monarchy and had in consequence resigned; then to bring back those judges who had worked with the Bourbons and who would be happy to continue in post in the new state, but only after their outlook had been changed; and finally to introduce the Piedmontese code of law, which was still unknown to judges and lawyers alike.
    Obviously, even in the nobles’ club, whose membership consisted not only of noblemen but also of wealthy landowners and tradesmen, there was much discussion about the judge who was due to arrive. “Surra,” Don Agatino Smecca said. “In our towns and villages that’s a word meaning ‘belly’ which, as you all know, is the most delicate and tasty part ofthe tuna fish. So, going by his surname, this judge is very promising.”
    â€œYou are talking like that because you’re a man of the sea,” Don Clemente Sommartino said. “But I’m a man of the fields, a peasant, and I’m here to tell you that ‘surra’ is the name of a bitter, smelly herb which, when chickens eat it, gives their eggs a nasty taste that makes you spit them out. So his surname, as far as I’m concerned, promises nothing good at all.”
    â€œThat’s enough of this nonsense. A name tells you nothing about the person who bears it,” Bonocore, the sulphur dealer, cut in. “You remember that judge who was called Benevolo but who was anything but? He never acquitted anyone, and was worse than an executioner.”
    â€œThat’s true enough,” Don Clemente thought to himself. “And while we’re at it, you’re called Bonocore, and far from having a good heart as your name implies, you bankrupted two of your colleagues.”
    But he did not say a word.
    *
    When the ship from Palermo docked at Vigàta, a clerk from the prefect’s office introduced himself to the judge.
    â€œHis Excellency Falconcini has procured comfortable lodgings for you in Montelusa. I’d be delighted to take you there in my carriage. You get in; I’ll load up your luggage.”
    The apartment in the upper city, in the vicinity of the cathedral, turned out to be comfortable, spacious and elegantlyappointed with eighteenth-century furniture. It was part of the palace belonging to the Marchese Bontadini, but it was completely self-contained, with its own door along from the main