Free Inquisition by Alfredo Colitto Page A

face lit up.
    ‘Come in,’ she said, in a croaky voice. ‘Payment in advance.’ Gerardo tried to explain, but the woman did not want to hear another word before seeing his money. So he gave her a few coins, promising the rest later. He had absolutely no intention of sinning with her, but hoped that the avidity provoked by the money would induce her to answer some questions.
    The woman led him into a kitchen with smoke-blackened walls. She closed the street door and immediately went to open another leading into a little corridor. Gerardo went in, thinking that she would follow him, but the old hag shut the door behind him, leaving him alone. Or rather, worse than alone.
    Now everything became clear. There was a boy of about six or seven, half-dressed, waiting on a reasonably clean straw mattress. The room had no windows and was lit only by a stub of candle, probably stolen from church. The child got up without a word, walked over to Gerardo, pushed his hands up under the monk’s tunic and began to fumble with his breeches.
    Only then did Gerardo react, pushing him away with more violence than was necessary. The little chap fell back on to the bed, but he got up again immediately to return to his task. While his expression had initially been empty and almost absent, now he looked terrified.
    Gerardo brushed him away again, more gently this time, but the child came back and set to work again. Now he was on the verge of tears. In a flash of intuition, Gerardo asked, in the gentlest voice possible, ‘Are you afraid that if you don’t do your duty, they’ll beat you?’
    The child suddenly froze, stared at him for a while, and then nodded twice.
    ‘Don’t worry, it won’t happen this time. But now please be still. I am not one of those wicked men who come to you. What’s your name?’
    Again, the little fellow looked at him with mistrust as though trying to work out whether he was telling the truth or if it were a trick. At the end he pointed at his mouth with a finger and opened his hands in a gesture of powerlessness. ‘Are you dumb?’
    He nodded his head. Yes . ‘Did they kidnap you?’ Another soundless yes .
    Gerardo had heard talk of such repugnant practices, but it was the first time that he had seen them in person. Initially he had reacted impetuously, concerned only to avoid sinning, and he had frightened the child. Now he tried to reassure him and inspire his trust. One thing was clear: although he was here for another purpose entirely, he would never leave the little boy in the hands of that woman.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ he said softly, sitting down on the bed next to him. ‘I’ll take you away from here.’
    To see the apprehension in the child’s expression transform itself into hope was more than he could bear. He got up from the mattress, making the candle’s flame waver, and went to open the door. It was bolted from the outside. He started beating it and shouting and the hag came quickly.
    ‘Why did you lock me in?’ asked Gerardo, his face now a deep magenta.
    ‘I always do,’ explained Philomena, her breath smelling of wine. In the half-light her hirsute hands and bushy eyebrows seemed to belong to a hellish being. ‘To stop the boy running away. I paid dearly for him and I’m not going to take any risks. If he runs off, who’ll chase after him? I’m too old.’
    She gave a throaty cackle, showing her yellow teeth. Gerardo walked out and she bolted the door again with a wooden bar and followed him into the kitchen, looking a bit perplexed. A half-full jug of red wine stood in the centre of the table.
    ‘What is it? Does Masino not please you? I must say you are the first. Your friend—’
    ‘My friend what?’ he snapped, forcing himself to control the rage that had taken hold of him. For the moment, finding out about Angelo was the most important thing.
    ‘He enjoyed him greatly. He even said he’d be back soon.’ Gerardo had seized her by the throat. ‘You’re lying!’ he said.