Chapter 21: Sunday Dawn

The light was at the gate before dawn, as it had been every morning since I died.

It stood just inside the wall, pale and steady.

It was the same light that had come the first morning, and the second, and every one after.

I looked at it for a long moment.

Then I turned my back on it and walked up the drive to the house.

The great hall was full of men.

The heads of the five families stood in a half circle at the head of the room, with their sons behind them, in black.

The scrubbed floor shone in the gray light from the high windows.

Alessio stood in the center, with my father and my brothers on either side.

None of them had been tied. None of them had asked to be.

The old man from Albany stepped forward with the yellow card in his hand.

"We are here by the old rule," he said. "I will read it once."

He read it, and his voice was thin but clear.

"A man who brings death to the women and children of his own house answers with his life."

"The women and children of this house are dead. These four men answer."

He lowered the card.

"Each of you may speak. I will not hurry you."

He looked first at my father.

My father stood straight, in a good suit, with his white hair combed back.

"I have said what I have to say," he said. "The detective has it in writing."

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