October 17th, 1590. 1:24am. Naples, Italy.
“Bardotto. Wake up.”
I awoke to my shoulder being shaken and my master standing over me.
“Bardotto,” he repeated. “Fetch me some water, will you?”
Groggily, I arose from my bed. It was not unusual for master Gesualdo to wake me at this hour, but as I went to find his goblet, I noticed something amiss. There was a palpable tension in the air, and the front door was wide open, swinging gently with the wind.
I shut the door before I returned to master Gesualdo and found him getting dressed. I set down the water and helped him don his jacket. “Where are you going, sir?”
He addressed me matter-of-factly. “I’m going hunting, Bardotto.”
“Hunting? What do you mean, sir? Isn’t it a bit early to leave for a hunt?”
He peered at me with a slight grin. “You’ll see what kind of hunting I mean.”
Still confused, I lit two torches and handed one to him. He reached down below his bed and withdrew a freshly-sharpened sword and arquebus, stowing each as he retrieved it. Standing upright and straightening his suit, master Gesualdo headed through the door and not to the entrance, but to the stairs leading upward. He beckoned for me to follow.
The ascent was hasty and the questions swimming in my mind were hushed by the deafening patter of our steps. My feet had never felt so heavy and my heart never so loud. Three armed men stood guarding the door to the room of Maria d’Avolos, Gesualdo’s wife, seemed to know exactly what was to come. They each looked at Gesualdo, and after a quick nod from him, turned and kicked down the door when we approached.
There were two shots. Screaming. The sound of blade penetrating flesh. Taunting. I don’t know how long it went on, but I couldn’t bear to watch; the servant Silvia and a nanny were outside the room with me, their wailing cries mixed in the din. An eternity passed before the three young men and Gesualdo emerged from the room, his hands covered with blood. The other three men departed, silent, blades sheathed, ostensibly to clean the blood off their uniforms.
“Where is Laura, the matchmaker? I want to talk to her.” he addressed me, his voice calm and unquavering. I couldn’t take my eyes off the blood on his hands, and I couldn’t give him an answer. “I ask you again, where is Laura?” he asked again, his voice betraying his irritation. My mind was torn between giving him an answer and protecting Laura’s life.
“She’s not here, I don’t know–” I was interrupted by gargling from inside the room. One of them must still be alive. Gesualdo muttered angrily to himself and turned to re-enter. This time I followed.
It was Maria and her lover, Fabrizio Carafa, Duke of Andria. Carafa was moving very slightly, and I hoped Gesualdo didn’t notice, for my own sake. Brandishing his sword, Gesualdo continued to mutilate the bodies. Twenty-seven cuts on Carafa’s abdomen: one for each month that the affair had been going on. Maria was less lucky–most of her wounds were in areas that she might have wanted to keep covered, if she were still alive.
Gesualdo ordered for the bodies to be set out into the streets for display, to show what might befall a couple who were unfaithful. I dragged the bodies down the hall, down the steps and out into the street.
The clock struck two.
“Call a carriage for me, Bardotto.” Master Gesualdo addressed me as I returned.
I was bewildered. “Aren’t you worried about repercussions, sir? Do you realize what you’ve done? You could be jailed, or put to death! What are you thi–”
“I don’t pay you to question what I do, Bardotto. I pay you to do as I say, and I’m ordering you now to order me a carriage.” He was calm and stern as we returned to his quarters. “Call the carriage before authorities arrive.”
I sighed, defeated. “Where are you going, sir?”
“I’m going back to my family in Gesualdo to lay low. I’ll be back soon. You’ll see.” I called his carriage and he departed within the hour.
The bodies in the street raised some questions and the authorities were brought to question us the following day. By the time they arrived, master Gesualdo was long gone–to escape the retribution of friends and family that was to come. He was acquitted, his position as a noble protecting him from any legal punishment, and he later returned to continue his career as a composer.
Carlo Gesualdo is a classical composer from the 16th century, known mostly for this story. He is known as a violent and deeply-troubled man who cared for little more than music. After he returned from his self-imposed exile, he eventually remarried.
His music was centuries ahead of its time, which may attribute to his lack of a mainstream following. He has virtually no other claims to fame.