A Wall for Fortunato

If walls could talk, Fortunato would know why he had been chained to an alcove and sealed behind bricks in the silence and the dark. I am his wall and I heard all of Montresor’s grievances over the weeks of his preparations. He would whisper to me or call out to the empty spaces of the family catacombs or laugh maniacally in the mitre-tinged air, and I would soak in every moment of his deranged preparations.

I witnessed him bring the unsuspecting fool (ah, how fitting he should be dressed as a jester for the carnival on the streets above) through the tunnels to my pile of bricks and my recessed alcove. I heard the two of them chatter about amontillado and other wines, Fortunato’s bell on his hat jingling the entire time. The man would cough from time to time, and take another draught of the wine he was carrying.

I witnessed the deed: Fortunato chained and sealed behind me, never to be found alive. The unfortunate victim could hear his tormentor re-stack the bones which had been laid in a pile when Montresor devised his trap. Within a few minutes, this area of the catacombs would look just as it had appeared for centuries. The sound of boots leaving the room was the last sound he heard.

Fortunato, left in silence and darkness, began to weep. The effects of the carnival’s alcoholic beverages had completely worn off and he understood the immensity and gravity of his situation. As he had predicted, he would not die of his cough aggravated by the nitre; he would die from a long horrible process of starvation and dehydration.

“Oh Lord, what have I done to deserve such an ending to my life? Why am I here?”

“You do not understand?” I said, my voice husky and low, hewn by moisture and time.

“Who are you? Are you also sealed in this tomb with me? Identify yourself so I may know with whom I shall spend my final days.”

“I am the one who provided the seal. I am the wall Montresor built. I am doomed to be with you until the end of time. But tell me, do you truly not know why you are here?”

“The nitre in the air must be affecting my brain! I am talking to a wall! The alcohol must have been tainted. Heavenly Father, have mercy on me.”

“Could a hallucination brought on by bad air or bad wine tell you this: I know why you are here. I know your crimes against Montresor, both great and small. As he prepared this place for you, he told me everything. There are a thousand injuries you have done to Montresor. Every time he lifted a brick, he spoke about a perceived slight or real crime that would be remedied by that brick. My façade is a list of grievances,”

“Oh, please, please, Mr. Wall, tell me what I have done that my life must end like so.”

“These bricks,” I indicated particular bricks, but in the darkness, Fortunato could not determine their location, “heard him say that months ago he wanted to become part of the Masonic order. He hinted to you many times this desire, but you ignored all his suggestions. You were too arrogant and self-absorbed to notice his desires.”

“How can you tell me I was arrogant and self-absorbed?”

“I can only tell you what Montresor expressed to the bricks as he took the wall apart and devised his scheme.”

“I never knew. Why didn’t he just tell me outright? I would have sponsored him to be a part of our organization; I thought some other gentleman of the city would sponsor him. Montresor is a good man, or he was.”

“Those bricks,” again indicating other bricks in my construction, “tell that even coming down the tunnels to this place, you made some secret gesticulation of the Masonic Order as a way to mock his lack of membership. You wanted to embarrass him even here, beneath his family’s home in his family’s catacombs.”

“It was done automatically. I had too much wine and believed I was in the company of another mason. I was surprised that he did not recognize the symbol. It was not made with malice, I swear.”

“I can only tell you what he has told the bricks. He also denounced that you have sold him many bottles of wine over the past year that turned to vinegar when he opened them at home. He believes you deliberately sold them specifically to him.”

“How can he believe that,” whined Fortunato, “when such a thing could happen to anyone? I have no control over the bottles on my shelves. I can recommend wines based on what I have tasted and the reputation of the vineyard, but there are times bottles go bad, or even entire batches of a particular year. I cannot predict that. And if dear Montresor had come to me, I would have gladly replaced those bottles.”

“He believes you also consistently overcharge him. He can find similar wines at Luchresi’s shop.”

“Luchresi is a second hand hack who sells poor quality inventory. He does business with second-rate vineyards that water-down their wines in order to increase profits. Luchresi is a criminal. I sell only the best quality of merchandise and it is worth the price.”

“Montresor accused you of passing him on the city streets regularly, but never recognizing him or greeting him. You snubbed him with your arrogant airs.”

“That is utter nonsense! How can I defend myself for not seeing a man on the streets? I was not being rude but only preoccupied with my business of the day. He cannot hold that against me. I am a busy man and I am often caught-up in thought.”

“He had other petty complaints but there was one significant grievance he held against you. When you were both young men, there was a woman named Julietta whom Montresor wanted to court. He was quite in love with her and had hoped to make her his bride. But, you, Fortunato, swept her away with your wealth and good looks, and the young lady would not even consider Montressor as a possible suitor. You stole her away.”

“Many young men were infatuated with Julietta; she flirted with many of them. At dances, her dance book was always full. I was no more a rival than most of the men in the city. She made her choice. He failed to impress her. I am grateful everyday that she chose me to wed, and I will not say that Montresor was more deserving. However, he had his chance to impress her and she is the one who turned him away. I will not apologize for that situation. I am heartbroken that Lady Fortunato will never know what has become of me. She will be devastated when I cannot be found.”

“Montresor believes he will be able to comfort her and win her back from you.”

“What a scoundrel! That has been his ultimate purpose all along. These petty whinings are nothing; they are not his true motive for this heinous act. He has not been abused and disrespected a thousand times. No, he is a villain who wishes to cozen Lady Fortunato. Well, I say the trick is on him: she had no fondness for him when we were all younger. She will not be swayed by him. She will refuse him again, and his heart will be tortured again. My Julietta will not accept him. And we have family and friends who will prevent any actions legal or physical Montresor might take. He will be left with nothing. I hope she ruins him.”

Fortunato began to laugh. “My life has been vindicated. I am guilty of nothing more than being distracted and having a beautiful wife. I do not deserve this death; I am exculpated.”

That was the last I heard from Fortunato. He neither spoke nor made any other sound after that. I believe he died peacefully. Many months later, Montresor visited this area of the catacombs once again. He had been drinking and was shouting and wailing: Lady Fortunato would not have him. Rumors had been circulating the city that he was involved in Fortunato’s disappearance. His business had dwindled to the point of bankruptcy. He had failed to gain the respect of the best merchants in the city who were Masons. All his plans had been for nothing. He had brought with him a dueling pistol, and when he had drunk all the wine he had brought with him, he fatally shot himself.

(In the Cask of Amontillado, Montresor decides to redress his grievances against Fortunato. He tricks him to come to the Montresor family crypt to evaluate a cask of amontillado wine. During the carnival season, when Fortunato is dressed like a fool, Montresor lures him into his plan. He continues to pique Fortunato’s interest by offering to have a man named Luchresi evaluate the wine instead; Fortunato rejects this option several times. As the two men get deeper into the catacombs, Fortunato coughs from the mitre (saltpeter) formations that taint the air. At one point, Fortunato makes a gesture that is known only by members of the Freemasons; Montresor doesn’t recognize it. At the end of their walk, Montresor tricks Fortunato to go into a small alcove where he chains up his victim and then begins building a wall. With only one brick left to place, Montresor pokes around with his torch, and then drops it in with Fortunato.)