Guiliano sent to the cooking site for food and drink and then conferred with his chiefs.

Passatempo was gruff and positive. "What kind of fools do they think we are? Shoot him and throw his body off the cliff. We don't need carabinieri in our band."

Pisciotta saw that Guiliano was once again taken by the Corporal. He knew his friend's impulsive emotions, so he said carefully, "It's most likely a trick. But even if it's not, why take the chance? We'll have to worry all the time. There will always be doubt. Why not just send him back?"

Terranova said, "He knows our camp. He's seen some of our men and he knows their number. That is valuable information."

Guiliano said, "He's a true Sicilian. He acts out of a sense of honor. I can't believe he would act the part of a spy." He saw that they all smiled at his innocence.

Pisciotta said, "Remember, he tried to kill you. He had a concealed weapon and he was a prisoner and he tried to kill you out of sheer temper and with no hope of escape."

Guiliano thought, And that's what makes him valuable to me. Aloud he said, "Doesn't that prove he is a man of honor? He was defeated but felt that he had to die avenging himself. And what harm can he do? He'll be a member of the common band – we won't take him into our confidence. And we'll keep a close eye on him. I'll give him my personal attention. When the time is ripe we'll put him to a test that he must refuse if he is a spy for the carabinieri. Leave him to me."

Later that evening when he told Silvestro that he was now a member of the band, the man simply said, "You can count on me for anything." He understood that Guiliano had again saved him from death.

At Eastertime Guiliano visited his family. Pisciotta had argued against this, saying the police might set a trap. Easter in Sicily had always been a traditional death day for bandits. The police counted on the deep ties of family to bring outlaws sneaking down from the mountains to visit their loved ones. But Guiliano's spies brought word that the Maresciallo himself would be visiting his family on the mainland and that half the garrison at the Bellampo Barracks had been given leave to celebrate the holiday in Palermo. Guiliano decided that he would bring enough men with him to make it safe. He slipped into Montelepre on Holy Saturday.

He had sent word of his visit a few days before and his mother had prepared a feast. That night he slept in his childhood bed, and the next day, when his mother went to morning Mass, Guiliano accompanied her to church. He had a bodyguard of six men who were also visiting their families in the town but had orders to accompany Guiliano wherever he went.

As he came out of the church with his mother, his six bodyguards were waiting for him with Pisciotta. Aspanu's face was white with fury as he said, "You have been betrayed Turi. The Maresciallo has returned from Palermo with twenty extra men to arrest you. They have your mother's house surrounded. They think you're inside."

Guiliano felt for one moment a kind of anger at his own rashness and stupidity and resolved he would never be so careless again. Not that the Maresciallo with his twenty men could have captured him even in his mother's house. His bodyguards would have ambushed them, and there would have been a bloody battle. But that would have spoiled the spirit of his Easter homecoming. The day Christ had risen was not the day to break the peace.

He kissed his mother goodbye and told her to return home and freely admit to the police that she had left him at the church. In that way she could not be charged with any conspiracy. He told her not to worry, that he and his men were heavily armed and would easily escape; there would not even be any fighting. The carabinieri would not dare to follow them into the mountains.

Guiliano and his men left without even being sighted by the police. That night in the mountain camp, Guiliano questioned Pisciotta. How could the Maresciallo have known about the visit? Who was the informer? Everything must be done to find out. "That will be your special task, Aspanu," he said. "And if there is one, there may be others. I don't care how long it takes or how much money we spend, you must find out."

Even as a child, Pisciotta had never liked the buffoonish barber of Montelepre. Frisella was one of those barbers who cut hair to suit his mood of the day, one time modishly, another time puckishly, another time with the extreme conservativeness of a peasant farmer. By varying his style he put forward his claim to being an artist. He was also too familiar with his superiors and too patronizing to his equals. With children he was playful in that particularly spiteful Sicilian style which is one of the less pleasant sides of the island character; he would nip their ears with his scissors and sometimes cut their hair so short that their heads looked like billiard balls. So it was with grim satisfaction that Pisciotta reported to Guiliano that Frisella the barber was the police spy and had broken the sacred code of omerta. It was obvious that the Maresciallo was not making a random strike that Easter day. He must have received information that Turi would be there. And how could he have gotten that information since Turi had sent word to his family only twenty-four hours before?

Pisciotta used his own informers in the village to check on every step the Maresciallo had taken during that twenty-four hours. And since only Guiliano's mother and father had known about the visit, he questioned them casually to see if they might have accidentally given anything away.

Maria Lombardo soon smelled out his intention. She said to him, "I spoke to no one, not even my neighbors. I stayed in the house and cooked so that Turi would have an Easter feast."

But Guiliano's father had gone to the barber Frisella on the morning of his son's visit. The old man was a little vain, and he wanted to look his best on the rare occasions when his son Turi came to visit at the house in Montelepre. Frisella had shaved and barbered the old man and made his usual jokes. "Was Signor perhaps going into Palermo to visit certain young ladies there? Was he receiving important visitors from Rome?" He, Frisella, would make Signor Guiliano look handsome enough to receive a "king." And Pisciotta visualized the setting. Guiliano's father with a little secretive smile on his face as he grumbled that a man could look like a gentleman for no reason except his own satisfaction. And yet the swelling of importance at knowing his son was famous enough to be called the "King of Montelepre." Perhaps the old man had come in on other occasions and the barber had learned that Guiliano visited the same day and so put two and two together.

Maresciallo Roccofino dropped into the barber shop every morning for his daily shave. There did not seem to be any conversation that could convey information from the barber to the policeman. But Pisciotta was certain. He sent spies to the barber shop to lounge around all day and play cards with Frisella at the little table he kept out on the street. They drank wine, talked politics and shouted insults at friends who passed by. Over the weeks Pisciotta's spies gathered more information.

Frisella always whistled the tune of one of his favorite opera arias when he shaved and cut hair; sometimes the large oval-shaped radio would play with recordings from Rome. This would always be the case when he attended the Maresciallo. And there would always be a time when he leaned over the police officer and whispered something. If you were not suspicious it was only a barber being deferential to the wishes of his customer's pleasure. But then one of Pisciotta's spies got a look at the lire note the Maresciallo used to pay for his service. They noticed it was folded, and the barber put it in a special watch fob pocket in his vest, underneath his white coat. When the spy and one of his helpers confronted Frisella and forced him to show the note, it was of ten thousand lire denomination. The barber swore it was for his services over the past few months, and the spies pretended to believe him.