Follow the Beat

Take a tour around Palermo’s crumbling back streets and uncover traces of the Beati Paoli — a secretive 16th-century society that was the forerunner to the Mafia.

From a narrow passageway in the labyrinth of Palermo’s medieval heart, a hooded figure ducks out suddenly from behind an ancient carved doorway. I know this is a re-enactment, but I still give an involuntary start. The black, cowled shape vanishes abruptly – only to reappear moments later behind me, and this time I really do jump.

The figure lifts its hood to reveal the smiling face of Gino Pojero – an expert on all things Palermitan and, above all, the Beati Paoli. Literally, the “Blessed of the Village of Paoli”, this bizarre, secretive 16th-century sect of noblemen, priests and citizens of Palermo, would use the tunnels, passageways and catacombs of the city, holding secret tribunals in church crypts and cellars. Clad in the sinister black robes of a Benedictine monk, this blend of freedom fighter and vengeful gangster would emerge from its secret hiding places to carry out summary justice. The Beati Paoli, it is said, were the forerunners of the Mafia – the most secret and perhaps the most successful of all secret societies.

Gino, myself and a small group of tourists had begun our walking tour of Beati Paoli haunts on a bright morning down near the city’s old port – an area heavily damaged by Allied bombers in 1943, but where many churches and buildings of the 1500s have survived. On Via San Giorgio dei Genovesi the medieval orphanage of the city is now a rambling music conservatory, and we hear a cacophony of melodies cascading from its open windows. Back in the 16th century, the director of the orphanage and the nearby hospital was one of the most powerful and wealthy people in Sicily, controlling farmlands and estates throughout the island. And it is here that the original Beati Paoli is believed to have been formed by immigrants from Pisa seeking safe haven on Sicily from the frequent wars that ravaged the Italian mainland.

As we walk on down the narrow street, Gino tells us how historians believe the Beati Paoli, determined to wrest the lucrative control of the orphanage from rivals, ruthlessly eliminated all opposition, beginning the long tradition of Sicilian secret societies and brotherhoods bound by unswerving loyalty.

Next we are guided up a narrow flight of stairs into the Oratorio di Santa Cita, where an extraordinary explosion of stucco cherubs, bare-breasted nymphs and biblical scenes adorn the high walls of this 18th-century chapel. Built by the rich and famous of Palermitan society, the ostentatious monument was created back in the Beati Paoli’s heyday.

In his novel I Beati Paoli, written and serialised in Italian newspapers of the early 20th century, Luigi Natoli brought considerable notoriety to the secret sect. It features young, beautiful girls of high society in the 17th and 18th centuries who, forced to enter the church because of family impoverishment, still contrived with the help of the Beati Paoli to meet their lovers by using disguises, secret tunnels and crypts.

According to Gino, although it is a highly stylised, fictional account, there are many truthful elements. As we leave the Oratorio and plunge deeper into old Palermo, he tells me how ordinary people would wear the apparel of a Benedictine monk in the 1600s as atonement for their sins. “You would have seen many hooded figures walking here back then, and no-one would have thought it strange,” he says with a chuckle.

We now arrive at the raucous Vucciria, Palermo’s oldest market, whose central courtyard is packed with seafood of all kinds, from squid to massive swordfish, on layers of ice – the walls ringing to the cries of stallholders extolling their wares. Just above, Gino pushes aside a heavy door and we enter the dark stillness of the 17th-century church of San Matteo. Figures beckon us from the back and we walk down into the echoing crypt below.

Up until the 18th century, the bodies of prominent priests would have been stacked up on shelves and stored here, their mummified corpses clad in sacred vestments. Gino points to a newly discovered opening leading into a dark, cramped tunnel. In the sacristy above, he presses a hidden catch in the wood panelling and a small door swings open.

“This, we believe, links with the tunnel below and, according to legend, to another church and nunnery close by. It is not safe enough to explore now, but we think it is part of the vast network that connects many old palaces and churches throughout the city,” he says.

An increasing number of tunnels and ancient covered waterways are unearthed every year, some of which lead beyond the old city walls, all providing handy routes for those who needed to move secretly around Palermo.

We walk back into the blinding Sicilian sunshine, and on the street outside find a modern reminder of the Beati Paoli’s legacy. On the busy Corso Vittorio Emanuele (no. 172), Fabio Messina and Valeria di Leo have opened a shop called Addiopizzo (literally, “Goodbye to Protection Money”). An estimated 80% of businesses in Sicily pay pizzo to the Mafia, a hidden tax that generates millions of euros a year for the Mob. Addiopizzo uses only suppliers who courageously refuse to pay and, so far, Fabio says they have had no trouble. Pride of place is a collection of brightly coloured cloth caps, which were the uniform of Mafia hitmen in the 1930s. “That and a machine gun!” laughs Fabio. “We still have a long way to go, but we believe the only way to stop the power of the Mafia is to stand up to them.”

We are now on the final stretch of the trail, walking up towards the cathedral and the old city walls, when once again Gino opens a side door and we climb up winding steps within the tower of the Church of Santa Maria di Montevergini. Now a theatre, the 17th-century building is being restored – and from its arched roof we have a breathtaking view over Palermo.

Like beacons rising above the sea of terracotta tiles, the steeples and cupolas of the many churches stand against a backdrop of mountains and the shimmering Mediterranean. Gino, with an expansive gesture, encompasses the hidden world of tiny courtyards and gardens spanned by walkways across tiled rooftops that I hadn’t noticed before. “Now perhaps you understand how the Beati Paoli and their successors could move at will through here without ever being traced,” he says. “It is a city that has always been impossible to control.”

Finally, we stop at a café in the square beneath the church and, in the cool evening air, sip a caffè macchiato topped with a large wind vane of a cowled Beati Paoli figure. In four hours it feels as though we have journeyed through 400 years of history, yet barely scratched the surface of this ancient city.

Gino is unphased. “The next time you come we’ll really go underground,” he says with an enthusiastic smile. “Into the qanats and the sirocco rooms – the water channels and cool chambers dug beneath the city by Arabs in the 9th century, which the Beati Paoli also used. In Palermo, you see, there is always just one more secret to find around the next corner!”

For tours, call +39 091 611 8775, or visit www.alicooperativa.com, for weekend breaks, call Kirker holidays on +44 (0)20 7593 2283, or visit www.kirkerholidays.com