Writing Historical Fiction: How the Bandit Varsalona Won Friends and Influenced People
PART THREE IN THE HISTORICAL FICTION SERIES: VARSALONA
Once the word got out amongst the peasants that their Ciccu Paulu was living in the forest, he had no shortage of helpers offering him shelter, food, or money. As the help and the money poured in, Varsalona felt it was his duty to do what he could to give back to these people. So began a system of protection that grew into what became known as Varsalonism.
Varsalona had already built loyalty in his subjects that he had protected and provided with everything he promised and more. He knew every person in the territory, every detail of their property and assets, and he had developed accomplices and cooperating friends in every corner of the land. Now, they needed to fear him.
The fugitive-turned-bandit knew he would need to demonstrate ruthlessness to obtain control and power over the area’s people. He was alone; he didn’t have a gang of followers to support him at the beginning. So, much like how a new prisoner immediately beats up another prisoner so that the rest know not to mess with him, Varsalona immediately went on a spree to assert his dominance in the mountain area.
He wanted the mafia and the other fugitives to fear him so much that they moved on to other territories, and he was largely successful in this respect. He was also keenly aware that he needed the people on his side, and although he was well known and liked, that was not enough in that war zone of criminality called the Sicilian Mountains.
Not only did he want them to fear him, but he wanted them to feel that he knew everything that was happening at all times and that he could appear at any time and take retribution for misdeeds without a shred of human decency exhibited. He knew that this is what was needed to survive and thrive in this environment of criminals and victims.
Even during the height of the search for Varsalona, when troops from the northern regiments patrolled the mountains and towns of Sicily along with the local police and military, Varsalona could hide in plain sight.
He would simply choose a farmhouse and give the owner the honor of hosting him as well as hosting his gang. The owner, whether a true friend of Varsalona or some poor sap who had to grit his teeth through his stay, would have to share his home, his food, and frequently his bed with his wife in it. Varsalona had no qualms about demanding that an owner slaughter an animal to prepare a banquet for him that was fit for a king.
When Varsalona and his gang showed up in a place, everyone knew that something was about to happen. So the one benefit of the poor farmhouse owner was that he was (usually) not the target of the bandit’s theft and violence.
Of course, in ten years of running from the law, Varsalona had some close calls. Part of what made him an object of admiration was his ability to outwit the authorities. The stories of his exploits spread like wildfire, as Varsalona had wanted, of course. These stories just made him more powerful.
And this was how he established the Kingdom of Varsalona.
He ran rival gangs out of the territory and recruited local young men as his “soldiers.” He recruited farmers, guards of feudal estates, members of the nobility and government. He compelled shepherds and shopkeepers and priests. His method of recruitment was legendary. He made known throughout the land that he was a ferocious yet fair protector of the people. Every murder that he committed had a vendetta or revenge attached to it, he was usually avenging the honor of one of his subjects.
It wasn’t long before the police began to search for him, but they would always find a community of mutes. Even those who were unwilling to help him — and so did not benefit from his protection — were aware of his ferocity and too afraid to report him. He lorded over his kingdom, full of accomplices, abettors, and helpful friends that trembled just to hear his name, so much so that he began to be known only as “Iddu” — Sicilian for “Him.”
