He led the way into the room where the table was laid, followed by the women and the children, who were intimidated but also delighted by their uncle’s presence. He limped slightly for one of his feet was smaller and the leg shorter than the other. Because of this he was known as Dr Littlefoot, which he did not mind, saying it was better to have one foot smaller than the other than a head smaller than other people’s. He was short too. His round pink face with its blondish moustache smiled shyly from under a soft floppy hat.

Sitting on the bed, his legs dangling, he pressed his nephew and niece to him, one on each side. They stared at him open-mouthed as he hugged them absentmindedly, his attention riveted on the tale Bachisia was telling him. From time to time he glanced at Grazia, whose angular girlish figure was accentuated by a black dress that was too small for her. Her steel-grey eyes held her uncle in an eager, unrelenting gaze.

‘It was like this,’ Bachisia began in her harsh voice. ‘Costantino had an uncle, his father’s brother. His name was Basile Ledda, but he was known as the Vulture because he was so grasping. God rest his soul if he’s not already in the devil’s clutches. He was a moody man, a bitter old miser. They say his wife died of starvation. As a boy, Costantino was put in his charge. The child had some money of his own but his uncle devoured every penny of it. Then he beat Costantino, bound him between two rocks in a field, and left him to the mercy of the sun and the bees, which almost stung his eyes out. One day when he was sixteen, Costantino ran away. He was gone for three years. He said he’d been working in the mines. I don’t know, but that’s what he said.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Giovanna broke in. ‘He was working in the mines.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ her mother said, pursing her lips dubiously. ‘Anyway, the fact remains that one day while Costantino was away someone fired a shot at the Vulture when he was out in the fields. So he must have had enemies. When Costantino came back he admitted that he hated his uncle and had run away to keep from killing him. However, Costantino made his peace with the old man. Now listen to this, Paolo Porru.’