Page 4 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

I was Uncle Fausto’s shadow, following him everywhere. I listened to almost every conversation he had with my father, and often his talks with outside parties.

Papa and Fausto kept the rougher stuff from me until I was older, telling me they had to talk in private ‘for this next part’ –

But I gradually came to understand the workings of our family business.

How we paid off politicians, judges, and cops in Florence…

And then sold that influence to businessmen, as well as to members of the Cosa Nostra.

If someone needed a government contract…

Or a law struck down…

Or a legal case to be bungled…

They came to us – and paid handsomely for what they wanted.

There were other parts of the business, too. For instance, we controlled the dock workers on a portion of the west coast of Italy. Importers and exporters had to pay a ‘tax’ on every shipping container to ensure that items didn’t go ‘missing.’

Additionally, we had a partnership with the Agrellas. We controlled the halls of power in Florence; they oversaw the streets – drugs, gambling, and prostitution.

I came to realize that Papa and Fausto also oversaw drugs, gambling, and prostitution in our rural territories outside of Florence… just in far smaller numbers than the Agrellas handled.

Dario always hated that part of the business – drugs and prostitution in particular. From an early age, he thought that we shouldn’t get our hands dirty in businesses that created addicts or preyed upon women.

“Well, when you run things, you can change them,” Papa would reply curtly. “But for now, I run things.”

It was understood that Dario would run things one day, albeit far in the future.

Even before I became Fausto’s apprentice, Dario had begun shadowing Papa, learning how to be an effective don.

The mantle of leadership fell on his shoulders at an early age, just as the mantle of consigliere fell on mine.

Despite being exciting and interesting, they were heavy loads for two young boys to bear. It was drilled into us over and over that the fate of our family depended on how well we learned to do our jobs.

Perhaps that shared experience was another factor that bound us closer together as we aged.

The same way my mother introduced me to chess, Uncle Fausto introduced me to what he called the Great Game:

The struggle of life and death within the Cosa Nostra.

And the same way my mother taught me life lessons, Uncle Fausto taught me the subtleties of being a consigliere.

How to tell if someone was lying to you. That alone was an ongoing topic that spanned an entire decade.

How to convince someone to adopt your idea and think it was theirs, so they would willingly implement your plans.

How to rise above stress and confusion so that you could best advise your don.

How to reason with others – and manipulate those who would not be reasoned with.

But one of the most important lessons I ever learned from Fausto came early on.

“A good consigliere will always fall on his sword for his don,” he told me.

“What?!” I asked, completely ignorant as to what he meant.

“Back during the Roman Empire, generals who suffered a terrible defeat would kill themselves by literally falling on the tips of their swords and letting the blade run them through. That’s where the term ‘to fall on your sword’ comes from.”

“Why?!”

“Sometimes out of shame. Sometimes to reclaim their honor in defeat. But that’s not what ‘falling on your sword’ means for a consigliere.

“Instead, it means to take the blame for a situation – to take the fall – so that your don walks away unscathed.

“ Cosa Nostra families are structured with the don at the top of the hierarchy. His consigliere is directly beneath him.

“The don gives his orders to the consigliere, who implements them. The consigliere is the one who handles all interactions with third parties, especially those involving illegal activities.

“If the cops ever arrest the don – if a prosecutor decides to try him for a crime – the don can say, ‘I didn’t know anything about that.’ And no one can prove otherwise because it was the consigliere who handled all of the details.

And only the don and the consigliere ever heard the conversation where the don gave his orders.

“The consigliere is a shield for his don. He’s the firewall, the bulwark, so the police can’t get to the head of the family. If someone at the top has to go to prison, it’s the consigliere, so that the don and the family can continue to go on. Do you understand?”

“The consigliere is the scapegoat?” I asked.

“In a way – but a scapegoat is forced to take the blame. The consigliere takes it upon himself willingly. It’s part of the job – a crucial part of the job, maybe the single most important part.

In case of disaster, the consigliere sacrifices himself for the good of the family.

So it’s not being a scapegoat for the don…

it’s being the hero for the family. Now do you understand? ”

“I think so.”

Years later, I had to question whether Uncle Fausto truly understood the concept, given that he had violated it so horrendously.

That was before I knew he was a traitor.