Chapter 85: The Bandit: I
Pastrini fell silent, clearly trying to process Albert’s confusing answer.
"Anyway," Franz cut in, "you came here for a reason. What is it?"
"Ah yes. Your car is ordered for exactly eight o’clock?"
"Correct."
"And you’re planning to visit the Colosseum?"
"Yes, the Colosseum."
"And you told your driver to leave through the northern gate, circle the walls, and come back through the eastern gate?"
"Those were my exact instructions."
"Well, that route is impossible."
"Impossible?"
"Extremely dangerous, at the very least."
"Dangerous? Why?"
"Because of the notorious Luigi Vampa."
"Who the hell is Luigi Vampa?" Albert asked. "He might be famous here in Rome, but I can guarantee you nobody in Paris has ever heard of him."
"You really don’t know who he is?"
"Never had the pleasure."
"You’ve never even heard his name?"
"Never."
"Well, he’s a bandit. Compared to him, all the other famous outlaws are just amateurs playing pretend."
"Finally!" Franz laughed. "Albert, you’ve got your bandit story at last."
"Just so you know, Signor Pastrini," Albert said, lighting a second cigarette from the first, "I’m not going to believe a single word of whatever you’re about to tell us. But go ahead anyway. ’Once upon a time...’ I’m listening."
Pastrini turned to Franz, who seemed like the more reasonable of the two. To be fair to Pastrini, he’d hosted plenty of French tourists before but had never quite figured them out.
"Sir," he said seriously to Franz, "if you think I’m a liar, there’s no point in me saying anything. I was only trying to help-"
"Albert’s not calling you a liar," Franz assured him. "He’s just saying he won’t believe the story. But I will. So please, continue."
"But if you doubt my honesty-"
"Signor Pastrini," Franz said with a smile, "you’re more sensitive than those prophets in old stories who told the truth but nobody believed them. At least half your audience believes you, that’s better than they got. Come on, sit down and tell us about this Luigi Vampa character."
"Like I said, he’s the most infamous bandit we’ve had in years."
"Okay, but what does this bandit have to do with my instructions to leave through one gate and return through another?"
"Simple," Pastrini replied. "You’ll leave through one gate just fine. But I seriously doubt you’ll make it back through the other one."
"Why not?" Franz asked.
"Because after dark, you’re not safe even a hundred yards outside the city gates."
"Are you serious?" Albert demanded.
"Sir," Pastrini said, clearly hurt by Albert’s continued skepticism, "I’m not telling you this, I’m telling your friend, who knows Rome and understands that these things aren’t a joke."
"Okay, listen," Albert said, turning to Franz with growing excitement. "This is perfect! We’ll load the car with guns, pistols, whatever we can get. This Luigi Vampa tries to rob us, but we capture him instead. We bring him back to Rome and present him to the Pope himself. The Pope asks how he can possibly reward us for such a great service. We just ask for a car and some horses so we can enjoy carnival. And obviously the Roman people will crown us as heroes, like those legendary warriors from ancient times who saved their country!"
While Albert spun this fantasy, Pastrini’s face went through expressions impossible to describe.
"Question," Franz said. "Where exactly are these guns you’re planning to fill the car with?"
"Oh. Right. They stole even my hunting knife when I was in Terracina."
"Same thing happened to me in Aquapendente," Franz admitted.
"You know what, Signor Pastrini?" Albert said, lighting another cigarette. "It’s awfully convenient for these bandits that everyone gets robbed of their weapons before meeting them. Almost like they planned it that way."
Pastrini apparently found this joke a bit too close to home, because he only half-answered and directed his response to Franz instead.
"Sir, you should know, it’s not customary to fight back when attacked by bandits."
"What?!" Albert’s sense of honor was deeply offended. "Just let them rob you? Without any resistance?"
"It would be pointless. What could you do against a dozen armed bandits who jump out from hiding places and point their weapons at you?"
"They’d have to kill me first!"
The innkeeper looked at Franz with an expression that clearly said, "Your friend has lost his mind."
"Albert," Franz said, "that’s a very noble sentiment, truly heroic. But here’s the thing, when those ancient heroes said ’let him die,’ they were protecting their entire nation. We’d just be risking our lives to satisfy a whim, which would be pretty ridiculous."
Albert poured himself a glass of wine and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
"So, Signor Pastrini," Franz continued, "now that my friend has calmed down and you can see we’re peaceful people, tell me about this Luigi Vampa. Is he a shepherd or a nobleman? Young or old? Tall or short? Describe him so that if we happen to meet him, we’ll recognize him."
"You couldn’t ask a better person. I’ve known him since he was a child. Actually, I once fell into his hands while traveling between two towns. Fortunately for me, he remembered me and let me go free, didn’t even demand ransom. He even gave me this beautiful watch as a gift and told me his whole life story."
"Let’s see the watch," Albert said.
Pastrini pulled out an absolutely gorgeous designer timepiece, clearly expensive, with aristocratic detailing.
"Here it is."
"Damn!" Albert examined it appreciatively. "Nice piece. I’ve got one just like it-" he pulled his own watch from his pocket "-cost me three thousand francs."
"Let’s hear the story," Franz said, gesturing for Pastrini to sit.
"You don’t mind if I sit?"
"Of course not!" Albert said. "You’re not giving a sermon, no need to stand!"
Pastrini sat down after giving them both a respectful nod, ready to tell them everything they wanted to know about Luigi Vampa.
"Wait," Franz said just as Pastrini was about to start. "You said you knew Luigi Vampa as a child, so he’s still pretty young?"
"Young? He’s only twenty-two. And he’s going to become even more notorious."
"What do you think of that, Albert? Famous at twenty-two."
"Sure, but at his age, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, and Napoleon had already accomplished way more."
"So our hero is only twenty-two?" Franz confirmed.
"Barely."
"Tall or short?"
"Average height, about the same as him," the innkeeper said, pointing at Albert.
"Thanks for the comparison," Albert said with an exaggerated bow.
"Continue, Signor Pastrini," Franz said, smiling at his friend’s dramatics. "What’s his background?"