Before I laid my eyes on Fortunato, before the Amontillado, before the carnival, I was happy. I had my love, my Lady Montresor. But that day, I was at the steps of the Doctor, on my knees, a desperate man. “Doctor! Please, good man, I am in need of your help!” I cried as he opened his wooden door garnished in gold.

The Doctor opened his mouth, as if to reply, when a drunken man in fashionable clothing came stumbling and shouted, “Jemiah! For the love of God, who is it?” He pushed aside the Doctor and glared down at me.

“Please, I need the Doctor’s help! My wife –“

“No. Leave,” he interrupted. He grasped the Doctor’s arm and pulled him from the door. “Just ignore him, Jaquer. He’s a mere simpleton. We have no business with him.”

The heavy door slammed shut, and I stumbled down the stairs. Without other options, I fell to my Lady Montresor’s side, caring after her. My eyes watered for my Lady, her sickness. She coughs handkerchiefs bright red, her skin pale, burning, and violently shivering. It was that night, in a fit of shuddering coughs and cries, did God take her.
During those next few weeks, I didn’t leave home except for bread, milk and eggs. The face in the mirror was my ghost, grey and sagging with such sorrow in the eyes. What I did eat was not much, and my weight decreased rather quickly. Soon all I could hear was my heart, beating while my Lady’s did not. I then had an epiphany, and soon after, I went out in the world as I had before. I smiled, ever so kindly. I made acquaintances and attended parties. One day, in early morning hours, one such acquaintance dressed in a suit, knocked on my door.

I said “Why, good morning, my dear Antonio! Please, come in. Could I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you, Montresor. I shall not bother you long,” said he. “In fact, I come to ask you to a celebration! An old friend of mine has come back into town after a long journey. He says his invitation is open to all who wish to come! Do you care to join me tonight?”

“Of course, Antonio! Where shall we meet?” I asked earnestly.

“Here is the invitation. I will meet you there at dusk.” With that, we bade farewell, and he was on his way. Inspecting the invitation, I learned the host was name Fortunato. What an interesting name, I must say.
That night, at dusk, Antonio in his trademark suit, and I in a dark blue one, we knocked on a rather large door of a rather large palazzo. To my surprise, the door revealed the very man that insulted me the day my Lady Montresor left me. Antonio introduced him as Fortunato, the host. What an unfortunate name, I must say. That night, I spoke to many other guests.

“He is to be respected, Montresor,” they said.
“Why is this?” I ask.
“Why, he has such money! He was born into it, you know. And he uses it in such ways to bring more into his family!” said they.
“How so?” I inquired.
“He knows people. Rich merchants, mayors, even the President!”
“Preposterous!” I say.
“I swear! He is a very well-spoken man. Educated, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.”

“He’s been published, too! Books, newspaper articles – and journalists have come to speak to him!” Everyone had something glorious to say about Fortunato. But this Fortunato did not remember me, how he insulted me and sent me on my way when I was in need. Not a bad word was spoken of him. They all had praise, even when he was not in the room. Not even when the man got extremely drunk, and swayed as he stood. In fact, most everyone got drunk. But at last, the night ended as the host waved to his departing friends, swaying fluidly like wine falling from bottle to glass.

Many times after, I found this great Fortunato walking the streets alone, as tall as a tree, the town’s Stone-wall Jackson. He was no doubt on his way to some grand meeting to be praised in the papers. But I took his popularity into consideration. We spoke many times at parties, festivals, and on personal meetings. He thought himself a grand fellow, as well, with his nose high into the atmosphere and pockets as deep as a well. We became friends, and as far as he knew, I was there for his company. On one day, with his mind as soaked with wine as the maid’s mopping rag, he expressed interest in my family.

“What are your arms, Montresor?” he questioned.
“A golden human foot in a blue field. It smothers a wild serpent whose fangs are in the heel.”
“Intriguing. And what of the motto?” he slurred.
“Nemo me impune lacessit. No one attacks me with impunity.”

“Aha! How wonderful!” He drank some more. And more. He babbled, his speech slurred, the sound was like the burbling of a pebble-filled stream, senseless and confusing. He downed enough glasses of wine to fill a barrel, leaving his breath with enough fragrance to clear a large party.

I must admit to you, dear reader: I did not simply endure his company for his company, but rather to find where he was weakest. He is at fault for my Lady’s death. He, who insulted me while I, on my knees, begged for help. It is he who shall pay the price. But I have found his deepest weakness. He has pride in himself, and thinks himself to be an expert in wines. I know my wines, and so this common quality will help me greatly. What this foul man does not know is what my family has done for many centuries. He does not know that we, the Montresors, have been numerous, wealthy, and built our very home. This stupid man shall come to his end. It felt so long ago that I was happy with my dear Lady Montresor. Fortunato must be punished as my arms’ motto calls. The stupid man is one for parties, for drinking.

And the carnival is coming to town.