In pace requiescat.

In pace requiescat.

In pace requiescat.

An incongruous phrase, is it not? For I can say with confidence that Fortunato neither left this world in rest nor was lain in peaceful slumber. As I hasten towards the exit, leaving behind me the webwork of nitre, I cannot help myself but to call to mind his final words—as I was laying the final stone, so in order that both his fate and his person be sealed in the niche—.

For the love of God, Montresor!

His impression of me, surely, unveiled like fog dissipating in the sun; he had indeed regarded me a close friend—whom he wholly trusted, no less—and his injury by my betrayal could not be more bare than it was in those words. Be that as it may, soon after my deliberation I grew quite angry. Truly, he had ventured to reference our past comradeship, even after his insult? Was his manner careless enough to wave away a deep injury towards me, towards my pride, my caliber? Foolhardy as he was, I had doubted to believe the length of his lack of apathy. No longer.
As I made my way out of the catacombs, ire and impatience pushed any contrition to the recesses of my mind. And there I assumed it would remain, and I commenced my normal habits, continuing as to make like Fortunato’s disappearance was as much a mystery to me as it was to the populace and aristocracy. For that matter, I well knew, would be greatly discussed.

“Have you heard of it?” Giovanni inquired

It was three days after Fortunato met his dire fate, and despite my part in it I was artfully calm.

“Why, no, dear man” I replied, with an air of curiosity, “What do you speak of?”

“Fortunato! He has gone! Fortunato!”

“Fortunato? I was scarce commenting to myself the matter that I have not seen him in recent days.”

“Surely you saw him at he carnival.”

“No. I did not.”

“Fortunato is not one to miss a festivity, you notice.”

“Of course”

“And no one has seen him since, among those Lady Fortunato!”

“Yes, one would expect so”

“What! You know of something?”

“No, no, I assure you. Just that we might consider he has other engagements.”

“Without the knowledge of any persons?”

“It is unexpected, yet not to be disregarded.”

“Surely not!”

“I cannot say with confidence.”

I proceeded to hasten the man on his way, insisting I was to be late should we continue our exchange. No farther had I made it than a few paces when another approached me.

“Montresor! Montresor!”

“My friend, you are greatly distressed, I perceive! Pray tell!”

“Are you not a good friend of Fortunato?”

At these words I took a sharp, trembling intake of breath. Fortunately the man was too agitated to take notice, as for a nameless reason I was shaken by the inquiry.

“That I am.” I responded hesitantly, only partially recovering myself.

The man continued, unaware of my strange and sudden affliction “Would not you know of his whereabouts?”

“I regret I do not.”

“But you must!”

I was startled at the conviction behind his remark. He progressed on:

“Lady Fortunato is most distraught!”

“Oh?”

“Yes, yes! She claims he informs her entirely of his intentions!”

“Well, we must take her for her word.”

“She is overwrought with worry! Soon I fear she will become suspicious of most others!”

“What inclines you to speak this?”

“Already, she is intensely distrustful of the attendants. Many of them have quit, doubting her sanity.”

“What! They must remember who they are speaking of!”

“It has changed with the disappearance of Fortunato.”

“Perhaps, perhaps…”

“My friend, I perceive you have other matters on your mind. I shall go.”

I must admit, dear reader, that my attention was indeed elsewhere. Wholly truthful, my consideration was once again upon the events of three evenings ago.

Surely, I tried to satisfy my conscience, I had only given him his due? For was he not an arrogant man? A man of pretentious nature? And yet.. might one concede that the punishment did not suit the crime? Surely not! Was not my motto also my nature? Was not my action nothing but reigning judgement? Be it so, what judgement? A judgement not given to me, surely? For who was I but a humble wine connoisseur? Or shall I no longer be judged as humble? Acting upon a feeling, an impulse, no less, was not the answer, surely?

All of these and more, dear reader, cast doubt upon my conscience that once was clear as the sky above me. My disbelief was solely at my irrefutable blindness—how could I not have known before? I was a villain, a murderer.

Montresor!

Montresor!

A chill raised the hairs on my body at the cry. The cry of a broken man, a plea for mercy. The cry of a man at life’s precarious edge, about to accost Fate with woeful, cheerless manner, when only precious moments before was he one to conquer life. Oh, what I would have given to be the same man I was at that time! To be able to walk, walk away, from all but the satisfaction of a task completed. A task? Was that what I considered the murder of a man with no crime worthy of death? A task?

For the love of God!

Another chill. This time not sole from inside me, but further from the dampness of the catacombs. Why had I come to this forsaken place? Perhaps, perhaps, I had strived to bring back the disgust I once had for the man in a fools costume. Alas! Alas! All I could find in myself was the wretchedness of my nature, of the deeds done, the wicked feats performed. Would I come here with faint hope of answers? Even so, answers to what?

For the love of God! Montresor!

“No! No! Not me, Fortunato! Not me!” I cried to the darkness, running blindly now.

Yet what was I speaking of? For had it not, indeed, been me? It had been my hand upon his arm, drawing him closer to his demise as he walked unsteadily beside me. And had it not been my trowel, plastering the stones in their destined positions as scarce but below me a man screamed with an agonized spirit? And answer me this—had it not indeed been me who, knowing of what was to take place, followed through in these very catacombs with my, and I assure you none but my, arrangement?

“No! Not me! Not now, not anymore! I beg of you, not me!”

Was that the answer, the reply, the justification? Surely, I was not the same man I was! But what kind of justification could be given, what kind forgiven, after my actions? No matter what remorse I felt now, no matter who I was anymore.

Whither?

To your vaults.

“My vaults! My vaults, Fortunato? These are not mine! I do not know the man claiming them! No longer!”

I stumbled, sinking to the ground as I shrieked to the heavens.

“No longer!”

The nitre glistened on the walls, silver moss upon the stone, dripping, dripping, dripping to where I kneeled. I, trembling, was unaware of my surroundings. Should I be? Perhaps. Yet, did a murderer deserve life to see, to sense, to think? Should not a man who took life away meet the same fate? I struggled to console myself, but alas, I was not to be appeased. I, Montresor, had committed a henious act of—what? Jealousy, perhaps? I assure you, I cannot remember. For what does it matter? Do I indeed have the right, the privilege, to answers?

Once more let me implore you to return.

My thoughts, traitorous thoughts, whirling with memories. Memories of my, no, Montresor’s, trickery.

No?

Montresor was no longer, his name, his claim, his pride, none mattered, none belonged to me! None! Not anymore! No!

Then I must positively leave you.

I began to laugh aloud. I knew not why, nor what was to be accomplished, but I laughed, I laughed at my madness, my pitifulness, my shame, my regret. Too late! Too late!

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Time is not to be controlled! Haha! No, it cannot be turned back!”

For the love of God!

“Ha! Ha! Ha! What does it matter, Fortunato? Life? Death? Is it not all one? Ha! What happens with one happens to the other, does it not! Ha, ha! I have no fear! No fear, Fortunato! None! For what does it matter? Ha! Ha! Ha!”

In one night, I had changed the course of lives! Yes, many lives! Was not Fortunato an influential measure of the people, the names that associate with our great city? Yes! Yes! Yet was not Fortunato the life I had power in? The life I took in a moment, a glance? Yes! The last stone I erected upon its fellows will stand forever, I assure you! And the dripping, dripping, dripping of the nitre will take its hold upon the cracks. Forever, I tell you! And behind it, lies a fool! Yes, a fool! Howbeit, consideration must be taken that he is, no, he was, an innocent fool. Yes! Yes! For what insult would wrought the penalty of death? None! None, I tell you!

Montresor!

I no longer trembled at the voices, no longer cared for them. Be it Fortunato, or myself? I knew not, but no matter. They could not change me, they could not injure a dead animal.

For the love of God!

Amontillado!

Luchesi! He cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado!

The Amontillado!

For the love of God!

Montresor!

Montresor!

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MONTRESOR!

The voices are crying towards me, even now! Even now, as I kneel a once-man, a murderer. They surround me like demons, like haunts, villains of my own making. I do not fear. What harm can become to a carcass, a shadow, a breath? I am nothing. Nothing! My vision has blurred, blocking out my sanity, my past. I pay no mind. My struggles to understand have been in vain, and no more do I interest myself. But, hark! I can see! Yes! Two men, walking towards me. One proceeds, an air of confidence surrounding him; he follows immediately behind a drunk, a jester stumbling forward. The flash of an eye, it is done. Tied. Bound. Trapped. He is astonished. It was not expected. Well planned. Well executed. There! He is building a wall. Tier upon tier. And another. And another! Screams. Pleading. The jingling of bells. And then. All is silent. The man is gone. Whither? I cannot say. One remains, surely, in the niche. The wall, it separates he and I. Yet, it is no longer built anew! It has stood for days. The trowel. It is still here. The stones, still stacked. I can see! I assure you! I can see them! Yes! Yes! With my own eyes! They are here! Beside me! But what does it matter! Ha! Ha! Ha! It is done! Ha! I am done! Here no longer, I am a shadow, a reflection, I am air, dirt, dust of the earth! And the jingling of the bells, the bells, is silent.

In pace requiescat!