Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Booka







Transcriber's Notes:

   1. Page scan source:
      http://books.google.com/books?id=jQM1AAAAMAAJ

   2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].







                                 THE

                          HONOUR OF SAVELLI



                             _A ROMANCE_





                                  BY

                           S. LEVETT YEATS





                               NEW YORK
                       D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
                                 1895






                           Copyright, 1895,
                     By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.






                               PREFACE.


Is writing this book the Author has made no effort to point a moral;
all that has been done is an attempt to catch the "spirit of the true
Romance," and to amuse. The book was partly written in the intervals
of work in India, and was completed during the leisure allowed by
furlough on medical certificate. In dealing with this period of
Italian history, in which the story is set, the Author would say he
has taken Dumas for his model, but hopes that he has worked out his
scheme on original lines; and he has used, as far as possible, the
language in which an Italian living in the beginning of the sixteenth
century would express himself. At the time the book was written the
Author had not read Mr. Stanley Weyman's brilliant novel, "A Gentleman
of France." Had he done so the style of the present book would
doubtless have been much improved from the lessons taught by a
master-hand. The Author, in bringing this to the notice of the reader,
would humbly add that he is making no challenge to break a lance with
so redoubted a knight as the creator of Gaston de Marsac.




                              CONTENTS.


     CHAPTER

          I. A Bolt from the Blue.

         II. Ruin.

        III. Madame D'Entrangues.

         IV. A Fool's Cap and a Sore Heart.

          V. D'Entrangues Scores a Point.

         VI. Bernabo Ceci.

        VII. The Garden of St. Michael.

       VIII. Temptation.

         IX. The Marzocco Inn.

          X. Niccolo Machiavelli.

         XI. The Letter to D'Amboise.

        XII. The Ambuscade.

       XIII. Rome.

        XIV. George of Amboise.

         XV. The Gift of Bayard.

        XVI. Friend or Foe.

       XVII. The Vatican.

      XVIII. The Opal Ring.

        XIX. Exit the Ancient Brico.

         XX. "A Brown Paul--a Little Copper."

        XXI. The Rescue of Angiola.

       XXII. The Ride to St. Jerome.

      XXIII. The Pavilion of Tremouille.

       XXIV. Too Dearly Bought.

        XXV. The Vengeance of Corte.

       XXVI. Concerning many Things.

      XXVII. My Lord, the Count.




                               PRELUDE.


                                  I.

          He rydes untoe ye Dragon's Gate,
          And blowes a ryngynge calle:
          A gallant Knyghte in armoure bryghte,
          'Twere sadde toe see him falle.
          Deare Sayntes of Mercy steele hys harte,
          And nerve hys arme withalle!

                                 II.

          Noe glove bears he uponne hys creste,
          And lettynge droppe hys visor's barres,
          I sawe hys starke soule lookynge forthe,
          Toe meete ye whysperes of ye starres.
          True Knyghte of God, whose arme is stronge,
          Whose harte is pure, whose lance is longe.

                                 III.

          Lette wyn, lette lose, belyke 'tis true,
          Ye issue of ye daye will bee,
          Notte toe ye dreamers; butte toe those
          Who stayke their alle on victorie.
          Notte to ye skiffes uponne ye streames,
          Butte ye stronge shippes uponne ye sea.

                                _Vanity Fair, 12th October, 1893_.




                        THE HONOUR OF SAVELLI.

                              CHAPTER I.

                        A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.


"I do not drink with a thief!"

D'Entrangues spoke in clear, distinct tones, that rose above the hum
of voices, and every one caught the words. In an instant the room was
still. The laughter on all faces died away, leaving them grave; and
twenty pairs of curious eyes, and twenty curious faces were turned
towards us. It was so sudden, so unexpected, this jarring discord in
our harmony, that it fell as if a bolt from a mangonel, or a shot from
one of Messer Novarro's new guns, had dropped in amongst us. Even
that, I take it, would have caused less surprise, although for the
present there was a truce in the land. Prospero Colonna turned half
round in his seat and looked at me. Our host and commander, old Ives
d'Alegres, who was pouring himself out a glass of white vernaccia,
held the decanter in mid-air, an expression of blank amazement in his
blue eyes. Even the Englishman, Hawkwood, who sat next to me, was
startled out of his habitual calm. Every eye was on us, on me where I
sat dazed, and on D'Entrangues, who was leaning back slightly, a
forced smile on his face, the fingers of one hand playing with the
empty glass before him, whilst with the other he slowly twisted his
long red moustache. I was completely taken aback. Only that afternoon
I parted from D'Entrangues, apparently on the best of terms. We had
played together, and he had won my crowns. It is true he was not paid
in full at the time; but he knew the word of a Savelli. On leaving,
Madame D'Entrangues asked me to join her hawking party for the morrow,
and he urged the invitation. I accepted, and backed my new peregrine
against D'Entrangues' old hawk Bibbo for ten crowns, the best of three
flights, and the wager was taken. Never indeed had I known him so
cordial. I did not like the man, but for his wife's sake was friendly
to him. Of a truth, there were few of the youngsters in Tremouille's
camp who were not in love with her, and some of us older fellows too,
though we hid our feelings better. I was grateful to Madame. She had
been kind to me after the affair of San Miniato, when a Florentine
pike somehow found its way through my breastplate. Indeed, I may say I
owed my recovery to her nursing. In return, I had been of some service
to her in the retreat up the valley of the Taro, after Fornovo--she
called it saving her life. In this manner a friendship sprang up
between us, which was increased by the opportunities we had of meeting
whilst the army lay inactive before Arezzo. Long years of camp life
made me fully appreciate the society of a woman, remarkable alike for
her beauty and her talent; and she, on the other hand, felt for me, I
was sure, only that friendship which it is possible for a good woman
to hold for a man who is not her husband.

I do not for one moment mean to imply that Doris D'Entrangues was
perfection. I knew her to be wayward and rash, sometimes foolish if
you will; but withal a pure woman. I soon found she was unhappy, and
in time she got into a way of confiding her troubles to me, and they
were not a few, for D'Entrangues was--what all men knew him to be.
Finding that I could be of help to Madame, I avoided all difference
with the husband, and for her sake was, as I have said, friendly to
him. Perhaps my course of action was not prudent; but who is there
amongst us who is always guided by the head? At any rate, I expiated
my fault, and paid the price of my folly to the end of the measure.

As I sat in the now silent supper-room with the man's words buzzing in
my ears, a curious recollection of a scene that occurred about a month
ago came back to me. Madame and I had over-ridden ourselves hawking,
and I had dismounted at her request and gathered for her a posy of
yellow coronilla and scarlet amaryllis. This, in her quick impulsive
way, she held to her husband's face when we met him, a half-league or
so on our way back, saying, "See what lovely flowers Di Savelli has
given me!" He snatched them from her hand, and flung them under his
horse with an oath, adding something which I did not catch. Madame
flushed crimson, and the incident ended there, for I did not care to
press the matter.

It all came back to me now, in the oddest manner, as I sat staring at
D'Entrangues. He had come in late to the supper, and, after greeting
D'Alegres, slipped into the seat opposite me in silence. Across him
two men were discussing a series of thefts that had recently disturbed
us. They were not common thefts, such as are of daily occurrence in a
military camp; but were the work of some one both daring and
enterprising. Even then the matter would not have attracted the
attention it did but for the loss of a ruby circlet by the Duchesse de
la Tremouille, which, besides its intrinsic value, was the gift of a
king. Madame de la Tremouille made an outcry, and the duke, as the
matter touched him, was leaving no stone unturned to find the thief.
It had come to be that every robbery in the camp was put down to this
same light-fingered gentleman; and Visconti, one of the two men who
were discussing the question, was loudly lamenting the loss of a rare
medallion of which he had just been relieved. Throughout their
conversation D'Entrangues, though once or twice addressed, spoke no
word, but maintained a moody silence. When the wine was circling round
I, being warmed, and wishing to stand well with the husband of Madame,
made some rallying allusion to our match for the morrow, and offered
to drink to him. His reply is known.

The silence which followed his speech was so utter that one may have
heard a feather fall; and then some one, I know not who, laughed
shortly. The sound brought me to myself, and in a fury, hardly knowing
what I was doing, I jumped up and drew my dagger, but was instantly
seized by Colonna and Hawkwood. The latter was a man of great size,
and between him and Colonna I was helpless.

"Give him rope," whispered Hawkwood, and his voice was kind, "this is
not an affair to be settled with a poniard thrust."

The whole room was in an uproar now, all crowding around us;
D'Entrangues half-risen from his seat, his hand on his sword, and I
quivering in the grasp of my kind enemies. Old Ives d'Alegres rushed
forwards, "Silence, gentlemen!" he called out, "remember I command
here. Savelli, give up that dagger; D'Entrangues, your sword. Now,
gentlemen, words have been used which blood alone cannot wash out. M.
d'Entrangues, I await your explanation!"

"Liar!" I shouted out, "you will give it to me at the sword's point,"
and big Hawkwood's restraining arms tightened over me.

"Thanks," replied D'Entrangues, "you remember the sword at last; a
moment before I saw in your hands your natural weapon."

"A truce to this, sirs! I await you," interrupted D'Alegres.

"Your pardon," said D'Entrangues. "Gentlemen, you want an explanation.
It is simple enough. We have a thief in our midst, and he is there."

"A thief--Di Savelli!" called out a dozen voices, and Ives d'Alegres
said, "Impossible! you are mad, D'Entrangues."

"No more so, sir, than you, or any one of us here. I confess, though,
I thought I was mad when I first knew of it, for this man has been my
comrade, we have fought side by side, and he has borne himself as a
gallant soldier. I thought I was mad, I say, when I first knew of
this; but the proofs are too strong."

"What are they?" D'Alegres spoke very shortly.

"You shall have them. You all know there have been a series of
unaccountable thefts amongst us lately. The duchess's rubies have
gone. Hardly a lady but has lost some valuable, my wife, amongst other
things, a bracelet. The thief did not confine his attentions to the
fair sex; but visited us men as well. They were not common thefts.
From the circumstances attending them, the robber must have known us
intimately, and had easy access to our quarters. Up to now the matter
has been a mystery. A lot of people have been wrongly suspected, and
two poor wretches are now swinging on the gibbet, condemned for
nothing that I know of."

"It was done by my orders, sir," said D'Alegres, "the matter is beside
the point."

"I stand corrected, General. Some little time ago a fortunate chance
revealed to me who the culprit was. I made no sign, but set to work
until complete proofs were in my hands."

"You have said so before. Why beat about the bush? If you have proofs,
produce them?"

"A moment, sir. May I ask any of you to state what your most recent
losses have been?"

"My medallion by Cimabue," put in Visconti in his drawling voice.

"Fifty fat gold crowns in a leather bag," grumbled Hawkwood, "the
residue of the Abbot Basilio's ransom. God send such another prize to
me, for I know not how to pay my lances."

There was a little laugh at Hawkwood's moan, but it soon stilled, and,
one by one, each man stated his latest loss.

"I will add to these Madame's bracelet," said D'Entrangues, "and shall
not be surprised if the duchess thanks me for her rubies to-morrow."

"Tremouille has sworn to crucify the thief if he is found."

"The duke knows the value of his gems."

"He ought to be consoled, for he has a true wife left, and, his
eminence of St. Sabines tells me, such a possession is more precious
than rubies," drawled Visconti.

"Gentlemen, you interrupt M. D'Entrangues. Let us end this painful
scene."

"There is but one thing more, sir. I ask you now to have
this"--D'Entrangues indicated me with an insolent look--"this person's
quarters searched."

Whilst he was speaking, D'Alegres gave a whispered order to a young
officer, who left the room immediately, although with a somewhat
discontented air at being sent away. As D'Entrangues finished, the
door was opened, a couple of files of Swiss infantry entered, and with
them Braccio Fortebraccio, our provost-marshal. At a sign from
D'Alegres one of the files surrounded me, the other D'Entrangues, and
Braccio called out in a loud voice, "Ugo di Savelli, and Crépin
D'Entrangues, I arrest you in the king's name!"

"At your service, provost," said D'Entrangues with a bow, "my sword is
already given up. May I ask, sir," he continued, turning to D'Alegres,
"if you will put my proofs to the test?"

"At once. Provost, lead your prisoners to M. di Savelli's quarters."

"Thank God!" The expression burst from me, so great was my relief. I
was sure of being acquitted, and madame or no madame, I should kill
D'Entrangues the following day, even though I knew Tremouille had
sworn to hang the next man caught duelling within the jurisdiction of
his camp. We were, as I have stated, at Arezzo, and had passed the
winter there, in the truce following the expulsion of the Duke of Bari
from Lombardy. It had, however, become necessary to menace the Pope,
who was hilt deep in intrigue as well as crime, and Tremouille leaving
Monsignore d'Amboise in Milan, marched south, and with the aid of our
Florentine allies, held the Borgia and Spain in check. Acting under
the advice of Trevulzio, Ives d'Alegres, and others, the duke had not
entered the town; but kept us in camp near Giove, outside the walls.
The gates of the city and the citadel were, however, at the same time
strongly garrisoned, and Trevulzio held command within. It was all the
more urgent to keep the main body of the troops outside the walls, as
they were composed, with the exception of a few French regiments,
mainly of mercenaries, and by holding the town with picked men, upon
whom he could rely, Tremouille would be able, in case of any change of
front on the part of his mercenaries, to have them between two fires.
Ives d'Alegres, who then acted as lieutenant-general to the duke, was
immediately in command of the camp, and had fixed his headquarters in
a large villa, the property of the Accolti, and it was here that the
supper, which ended so disastrously for me, was given. My own quarters
were but a bow-shot or two away, in the direction of the town. When we
reached them, I was surprised to find at the door, my servant Tarbes
in the hands of two of the marshal's men, a half troop of French
lancers drawn up before my tent, and my own small _condotta_ of ten
lances, which I had raised for the war by pawning my last acre, all
under guard. As if any attempt at rescue were possible! I saw in a
moment that this accounted for D'Entrangues' late arrival at the
supper: but entered the tent sure of the results. A dozen blazing
torches threw a clear enough light, and D'Alegres briefly requested
the provost to begin the search. The practised hands of the field
police did this very effectually, but to no purpose, and I felt that
the faces of all were looking friendly towards me. D'Entrangues seemed
nervous, and his sallow cheek was pale.

"Send for Tarbes," he said, and at a word from the provost my knave
was led in. This man was a Spaniard, whom I had taken into my service,
some little while ago, on the recommendation of D'Entrangues. Except
on one occasion when he lost, or maybe stole, a pair of silver spurs,
for which I cuffed him roundly, he had served me well. At the present
moment he seemed overcome with fear, trembled in every limb, and
refused to look at me.

"Signor Tarbes," said the provost, "do you know what the wheel is?"

The man made no answer, and Braccio went on--

"Signor Tarbes, we want a little information which I am persuaded you
possess. If you give it freely, we will be merciful; if you
prevaricate, if you attempt to conceal anything, we will do to you
what we did to the death hunters after San Miniato--you remember?"

"Speak freely, Tarbes. There is no fear," I added.

"Even your master, the excellent cavaliere, advises you, and I must
say advises you well," continued Braccio. "Signor Tarbes, you will now
show us," and he rubbed his hands together softly, "where the valiant
knight, Ugo di Savelli, keeps his prizes of war, the spoils of his bow
and spear--I was going to say fin----"

"Have a care, sir," said D'Alegres sternly, "you are here to do your
duty, not to play the jester." Braccio shrank back at his look, and
the general turned to Tarbes, "In brief, we want to know, if your
master, M. di Savelli, has any concealed property here? Will you
answer at once, or do you prefer to be put to the question?"

"I will speak--say anything, my lord--only have mercy. I swear what I
say is true. His excellency, my master, has nothing beyond what you
have seen--and what lies in the leather valise under this rug."

Now this rug in question lay flat on the turf, on which my tent stood,
and at the time of the search D'Alegres and others were standing on
it. Owing to this, and to the crowded state of the tent, it had
hitherto escaped the attention, which it would doubtless have received
sooner or later, for nothing ever passed Braccio's eyes. In a moment
the rug was swept aside, and, as the torches were held to the turf, it
was evident that it had been dug away and then replaced somewhat
carelessly.

Braccio was in his element.

"_Pouf!_" he exclaimed, "a clumsy amateur after all! I thought better
of his valour. Here! give me a pike! And hold the torches so!"

With a sharp point of the pike he quickly cleared away the turf, and,
stooping down, lifted up from the hole he exposed, a small brown
valise, which had been concealed in the earth. The interest was now
intense. Every one crowded round Braccio. Even the vigilance of the
guards over me completely relaxed. I felt a touch on my shoulder, and,
looking back, saw Hawkwood.

"Would you like to go?" he whispered rapidly. "My horse is ready
saddled--you know where to find him."

I thanked him with a look; but shook my head, and the giant fell back.

"Shall I break it open, excellency?" and Braccio held the bag out to
D'Alegres.

"My master has the key," put in Tarbes; "I know no more."

"I--the key!" I exclaimed. "Villain, the bag is not mine!"

"It bears your arms, however;" Braccio pointed to a little metal plate
on which they were distinctly engraved.

"You must, I am afraid, submit to the further indignity of being
searched," said D'Alegres.

There was no hope in resistance and I endured this. Braccio himself
searched me, and almost as soon as he began, pulled from an inner
pocket of my vest a small key, attached to a fine gold chain.

"Here is the noble knight's key," he exclaimed, "and see; it fits
exactly!" He turned it in the lock, opened the valise, and emptied the
contents out on a rough camp table. A low murmur went up, for amongst
the small heap of articles was Hawkwood's leather bag, and madame's
bracelet, whilst something rolled a little on one side, and fell off
softly to the turf. A soldier picked it up, and placed it face upwards
on the table--the lost medallion.

One by one D'Alegres held up the articles sadly, and I looked round in
my agony on the faces of those who but an hour ago were my friends.
They had all shrunk back from me, and I was alone within the circle of
the guards. D'Entrangues stood with folded arms, and a smile on his
lips, and Tarbes glanced from side to side, like an ape seeking chance
for escape. I looked towards Hawkwood, but even his face was hard and
set.

"I do not see the duchess' rubies here," said D'Alegres.

"I am prepared to produce them to-morrow," replied D'Entrangues; "in
the meantime, I trust you have sufficient proof?"

"Give M. d'Entrangues his sword. You need not fight this man,"
D'Alegres added, pointing to me, "even if he challenges you. Were you
a French subject," he said to me, "I would hang you in your boots; as
it is I will submit the case to the duke. D'Entrangues, I hold you to
your word about the rubies. Provost, see that your prisoner is
carefully guarded. You will answer for him with your life."

"Prisoner, your excellency! There are two."

"I have restored M. d'Entrangues his sword."

"There is still another," and the provost pointed to Tarbes.

"Pah!" exclaimed D'Alegres, "hang him out of hand--come, gentlemen!"

One by one they went out. Not another look did they give me. I heard
the tread of feet, and the sound of voices in eager conversation,
dying out in the distance. I stood as in a dream. Tarbes had been
dragged away speechless, and half fainting. When he was outside he
found voice, and I heard him alternately cursing D'Alegres, and
D'Entrangues and screaming for mercy. Braccio touched me on the arm.

"Come, signore," he said, "_you_, at any rate, have a few hours left."




                             CHAPTER II.

                                RUIN.


I started at the man's words, and my rage and despair may be imagined,
when I saw that he proposed to bind me, a noble, like any thief! From
this I hoped to escape by bringing on death, and, on a sudden, hit the
guard next to me on the face, with all my force. Down he went like an
ox, and I made a rush to the tent door, little doubting that I should
be cut down, and put out of my misery. But they were too quick. I was
one, and they were many. In a hand turn I was tripped up, my wrists
securely fastened behind my back, and any further resistance on my
part impossible. The man whom I felled, scrambled up, and attempted to
brain me with the butt of his pike as I went down; but Braccio struck
him senseless with the hilt of his sword, and this time he lay in a
huddled heap, quiet enough.

I besought Braccio to give me my parole, swearing on the faith of a
gentleman, on the honour of a Savelli, that I would not attempt
escape, and would go with him quietly, if I were but free from the
ignominy of the cords that bound me.

"Shut the cage door, keep your bird," he laughed brutally, "I have to
answer for you to-morrow, and I weigh the faith of a gentleman, and
the honour--God save the mark--of a Savelli, as _that_," he snapped
his fingers, "when it comes to a consideration of Braccio
Fortebraccio's head. So your knighthood must even go as you are, with
my love-knots on you. Here, two of you, take charge of this tent, and
see after Arnulf there--I never thought his skull so thin--march!"

And in this manner was I led out, two men in front of me, two behind,
one on either hand, all with their weapons ready, whilst the provost
himself brought up the rear, with his drawn sword in one hand and a
lighted torch in the other. Not that light was needed, for the moon
had risen, and was in its full. I believe, however, that Braccio held
the torch, so that the additional light might the more clearly show
who his prisoner was, and I hung down my head as, with quick steps, we
marched to the military prison.

"_Qui vive là_," the challenge rang out crisply, and on the instant
the provost replied, "France and Tremouille."

"Pass on," and the sentry, one of Bucicault's arquebusiers, looked at
us curiously as we went by. And now, to add to my shame, we met, face
to face, a group of late revellers returning to the camp.

"_Diable!_" called out a gay voice, "our respectable provost is at
work I see. What have you got there, Braccio?"

I shuddered, for I recognised Bellegarde, a young noble of the Franche
Compte, who had come to seek glory in the Italian war.

"Close up, men--another of my strayed lambs brought back to the fold,
Viscompte--pardon me--it is late, and I must hurry on."

But Bellegarde was merry with wine. "Not till you have drunk our
health," he laughed, barring the way with his drawn rapier, as he
added, "Lowenthal here has a skin of wine from the Rhineland, have a
pull at it, man, and let us see the prisoner."

"_Blitzen!_ Der brisoner first, he will hang pefore der herr brovost,"
and the half-drunk Lanzknecht thrust his wine-skin towards me.

"Gentlemen--gentlemen! have you a care! See here, Viscompte," and
Braccio whispered to Bellegarde.

"My God!" said the latter; and then hastily, "Come on, Lowenthal! Let
them go."

"Let der brisoner drink. Would you debrife a boor man of his liquor?"
replied Lowenthal, and to hide my face, I seized the skin, and raised
it to my lips. Even Braccio held the torch away, and Von Lowenthal
failed to recognise me in the half-light. My throat was red-hot with
thirst, and sick as I was with shame, I drank greedily, and handed the
wine-skin back to the German.

"_Blitzen!_" he said, giving it a shake, "you drink like an honest
man. Now, herr brovost, a health to Germany, in honest German wine.
What! No! Then drink to der halter, man, and Lowenthal will knight
you," swaying to and fro, he attempted to draw his sword.

Matters were at a crisis, for Braccio was not to be trifled with any
longer. At this juncture, Bellegarde and the others with him again
intervened, and dragged Von Lowenthal away. The provost instantly
pressed forwards with a hurried good-night. We did not go so fast,
however, as not to perceive, from the noises behind us, that the
Lanzknecht had subsided to earth, and was apparently abandoned there,
with his wine-skin, by his companions. The sound of his voice, engaged
in a drunken monologue, reached us.

"Der rascal Braccio, der knight of der noose und halter. I will gif
him der accolade. I----" But we lost the rest as we hurried on, the
guards smiling to themselves, and Braccio very ill-tempered.

In a few paces we passed D'Alegres' headquarters, and through an open
window, I saw half-a-dozen of my late companions playing at dice, and
heard Hawkwood's bass calling the mains. A few steps more brought us
to our point, a fortified wing of the Villa Accolti itself, and
Braccio, thrusting me into a strong room, turned the key of the door,
and with a gruff order, which I did not catch, walked away. Now,
indeed, was I in a distressful state, and the agony of my mind so
great, that I heeded not the pain of the cords, but paced up and down
like any caged animal. I fully recognised that I was the victim of a
deeply laid plot on the part of D'Entrangues, and saw clearly that I
was completely in his hands. It was a stroke of genius on his part,
not to interfere in any way to save his creature, the wretched Tarbes.
That hasty order of D'Alegres had removed the only danger of his
scheme being laid bare. I tried to think out some plan of action; but
to no purpose, for my mind was altogether confused and bewildered, and
I was incapable of thought. The room in which I was confined was bare
of all furniture, not even a camp-stool. There was only one window,
and that, iron-grated, was set high up, near the ceiling. The
moonlight straggled through the grating in long white ribbons, and
dimly showed up the walls around me. Hour after hour passed away. I
could hear the occasional barking of dogs, the distant cries of the
sentinels as they called to one another, and the sound of the guard
being relieved at my door. Then the moon sank and the morning came.
From sheer weariness I threw myself on the floor, and fell into a
troubled sleep, from which I was aroused by the cords biting into my
flesh. This, and the constrained position in which my arms were held,
gave me torture. I attempted by shouting to attract the attention of
the sentinel over me; but though I heard the clod tramping up and
down, I received no answer.

At length, about the sixth hour, I made another effort to get some one
to hear me. I fortunately chose a moment when the guards were being
visited. After a short discussion outside, an under-officer entered
the cell. I begged him to free me from the cords, pointing out that
escape was impossible, swearing that I would not attempt it, and ended
by offering him five crowns for the good office. He hesitated at
first, but either pity for my condition, or the bait of the crowns
moved the man, for he freed me with a touch of his dagger, and for
another five crowns I obtained from him the promise of procuring for
me a change of attire from my tent. I had, hidden in a belt, worn
under my shirt, thirty crowns, and this I reached with some
difficulty, owing to the stiffness of my arms, and paid him the money.
I specially begged he would get for me a pair of Spanish leather
boots, that were lying in my quarters, for the sole of one of my
_contigie_ had come off during the struggle of last night. The honest
fellow promised to do his best, and shortly returned with the articles
I wanted, and in addition brought me some food and a cup of wine, for
which he refused all payment, saying that I had treated him generously
enough. To eat was out of the question, but the wine was grateful,
and, after drinking it, I devoted myself to putting my attire in
order. And here I may mention an odd circumstance, to wit, that my
gold cross of St. Lazare, which I wore pinned to my breast at the
supper, had by some chance remained intact, despite the struggle I had
gone through, and was still hanging in its place by a shred of the
ribbon. I carefully unfastened it, and placed it for security in my
belt. To me it seemed an omen of fortune, this lost little tag of
honour which clung to me. I succeeded indifferently well in arranging
my dress, and so passed a full hour. Heavens! when I recall that
night, although more was to befall me, I do not think I ever endured
such misery; nor has the noiseless file of time ever been able to
eradicate the memory of those hours.

At about noon Braccio entered the cell. He raged beyond measure at
finding me loosed of my bonds, and insisted at first on securing me
again. I shrewdly suspected, however, that Messer Braccio was a trifle
afraid of the consequences of his violence the night before, and that
his furious language was in this case but bluster. I showed a bold
front therefore, and the under-officer putting in a word for me, the
provost gave in with apparent reluctance. He informed me that my
affair was to be dealt with by the duke in person, and that I should
make ready to go with him. I replied that I was prepared to go at
once, and without more ado was escorted to the main building of the
villa. I could see that a considerable crowd was collected, and from
the litters and riding-horses that were being led to and fro,
perceived that some ladies had heard the news, and were come to
gratify their curiosity at my expense, and see such trial as I was to
undergo. I was led into the great hall, which was full of people, and
in the gallery above the dais saw, amongst other ladies, the Duchesse
de la Tremouille, and by her side Madame d'Entrangues. The latter kept
her eyes down, and fanned herself with a fan of peacock feathers,
which, even at that moment, I was able to recognise as my gift. On the
dais was a table with seats set about it, which were as yet empty. At
the steps of the dais stood D'Entrangues, and beside him a small man
cloaked in a sad-coloured mantle, with a keen, cleanly-shaven face,
and watchful eyes. He held in his hand a small packet, and surveyed me
with no little interest. D'Entrangues did not meet my look, and his
hang-dog face was turned towards the doorway immediately opposite to
him. In a moment or so that door was opened, and the duke entered,
talking earnestly with a cavalier of a most gracious and distinguished
presence. Tremouille himself was a small, slightly-built man, of
features in no way remarkable; but redeemed in some part by the alert
intelligence of his glance. In early life he had met with an accident
which left him lame ever after. Yet he was a good horseman and of a
constitution that nothing could tire. As for his companion, his face
was then strange to me; but in after times when I was admitted to his
intimacy and honoured with his friendship, I came to know him as great
beyond all men; and this I do not say in gratitude for the debt I owe
him; but simply to add my humble testimony to that of others, his
companions-in-arms, and equals in station, who with one consent allow
him to be the glory of his age, and of knighthood. Immediately behind
Tremouille came D'Alegres and Trevulzio, who had raised himself to his
present high position, and was a most capable soldier. These four took
their seats at the table, and the numerous and brilliant staff of
officers who accompanied them ranged themselves behind. From the
manner in which the stranger took his seat, I gathered, and I was not
mistaken, that he was there as one of my judges, and for the moment I
wondered who he was. That he was of the highest rank was clear from
his aspect and bearing, and from the fact that he wore round his
neck the collar of the Holy Ghost. The proceedings of this public
court-martial began at once. It is needless to set them down in full
detail. D'Entrangues stated his case, D'Alegres briefly set forth the
action taken by him, and Visconti and Hawkwood testified to having
found their property in my possession, under the circumstances already
explained. I will do them the justice to say that they did so with
evident and genuine reluctance. Tremouille, who had doubtless heard
all this before, listened patiently to the end, and then asked me what
I had to say. What could I say? I looked at the faces around me and
saw no sympathy. I looked up at the gallery where the ladies sat, and
caught a whisper:

"I do not care--I know it is false; he is not guilty."

The words gave me courage. The charge was false. As false as hell.
Then I found tongue. I asked if it were possible that I, a noble,
whose career had hitherto been blameless, could have suddenly become
so vile as to sink to common theft? I pointed out my long years of
service, and called D'Alegres and Trevulzio, under whose banners I had
served, to witness if they had ever known me sully my honour.

"It is known, M. di Savelli, that you are hard put for money," said
Tremouille.

I admitted the fact, and also admitted that at the time I stood there
I owed money lost at play; but that the sum did not amount to more
than fifty crowns, and there was twice that amount due to me from the
military chest. I then went on to point out how unlikely it was that,
even if I had stolen the jewels, I should have hoarded them up and not
turned them into money, for which I allowed I was pressed, and wound
up by saying I was the victim of a conspiracy, and that I was prepared
to assert my honour, man to man, against D'Entrangues, or any other
who would take up his cause.

"What say you, my lord of Bayard?" and Tremouille turned to the
stranger who sat beside him. Even whilst waiting for his answer, and
on the cross with anxiety as I was, I could not help looking with the
greatest interest at the man. This then was the celebrated Pierre du
Terrail, the noblest knight in Christendom. Vague rumours that he was
about to join the army of Tremouille, with a high command, had
reached us. But we had merely looked upon them as rumours. And now he
had come, apparently suddenly, and without warning. I felt sure that
he brought war with him, but had no more time to think, for he
answered--"A fair offer--M. d'Entrangues can do no less than accept."

But Trevulzio then cut in, pointing out, that practically the case was
proved. That to allow me the ordeal by combat would upset all the
course of military discipline, under which he thought the matter
should be decided. Even if the ordeal of battle was allowed, and I
won, it would not prove my innocence in the face of the damning
evidence against me.

"If there is any shadow of doubt, your excellency," and D'Entrangues
advanced to the table, "this will clear it up. Messer Vieri, kindly
hand that package to the duke."

The man whom he addressed, who was no other than he whom I had
remarked, on entering the justice room as D'Entrangues' companion,
stepped forward and placed the packet before Tremouille, who opened it
amidst a dead silence.

"Messer Vieri, how did you obtain this?" asked Tremouille.

"The matter is simple, excellency," replied the banker, "but first may
I ask if madame the duchess recognises the trinket?"

The circlet was handed to the duchess, who said in a low voice--

"It is mine: it was stolen from me a month ago--on the seventh of
March."

"On the eighth of March a packet was delivered to me at my house of
business by one Tarbes, calling himself servant to the Cavaliere di
Savelli. He did not know the contents of the parcel; but it was sent
to me for safe keeping by his master, so he said. I gave him a receipt
for it. I myself did not know what the nature of the packet was until
to-day; but hearing the charges preferred against the cavaliere, I
opened the case and at once recognised madame's circlet, which I have
the pleasure to restore."

"How did you come to hear these charges against the Cavaliere di
Savelli?" asked Bayard.

"I was informed of them by the knight, Messer d'Entrangues."

"That is to say, M. d'Entrangues must have known that the jewels were
pledged to you. Is this not odd?"

It was a straw of hope that floated to me, and I could scarcely
breathe. D'Entrangues, however, replied boldly, "I was told of the
matter by one Tarbes, a servant to M. di Savelli."

"You forget to add," I burst out, "that he was a creature of yours,
whom I employed on your recommendation."

D'Entrangues made no reply, and Bayard said, "M. d'Entrangues appears
to have usurped the functions of the provost and played catchpole.
Could we not see this Tarbes?"

"Call Tarbes," said the duke.

Braccio came forward and explained that he had been dealt with
summarily, under the orders of the lieutenant-general.

"Mine!" said D'Alegres in astonishment.

"Yes, excellency, he was the prisoner whom your excellency ordered me
to hang last night."

"A pity," remarked the duke, and Trevulzio, between whom and D'Alegres
there was little love, smiled.

"I suppose you have nothing to say to this?" said Tremouille to me.

"I was not in the camp on the seventh."

"Where were you?"

But this question I could not answer for I caught Madame d'Entrangues'
eye imploring me to silence. I looked back at the duke, and as I did
so felt that Bayard had followed my glance, and that his eyes were
resting on madame's face. He glanced down almost as soon as I did and
turned to me, and there was a grave encouragement in his look from
which I took heart. To me it was a great thing to show I was not at or
near the camp on the seventh; and yet if I did so I would ruin a
woman's name. It had been a harmless frolic, I swear this, as I know I
will come to judgment before a higher tribunal than that of man; and
yet had I spoken there would have been but one construction. I hated
D'Entrangues, too, and this would have struck at a vital part. For a
second I hesitated, and looked up once more at madame. She was pale as
death.

I looked at Bayard, and his glance seemed to penetrate my thoughts.

"I cannot say!"

There was a sound of a gasping sigh, and a heavy fall. The peacock fan
fluttered slowly down from the gallery to my feet, and lay there with
its hundred eyes staring at me.

"This ruins you," exclaimed D'Alegres.

"Think again before you reply," said the duke: "I will give you time."

"I thank your excellency; but I have no further answer."

Tremouille shrugged his shoulders with a disappointed air, and dropped
his chin between his clasped hands, his elbows resting on the table, a
favourite position of his. Whilst he was thus considering, Bayard was
whispering earnestly to Trevulzio, and the old soldier seemed to
assent, and his hard face almost softened as he looked at me. They
then turned their gaze on D'Entrangues, and Trevulzio, with a shake of
his head, noted something briefly on a slip of paper and passed it on
to D'Alegres. The lieutenant-general looked surprised; but after a
moment nodded assent, and in his turn passed the paper on to the duke,
saying "I agree." Tremouille read the paper slowly, and then they
consulted together in low tones.

And now, in a few brief words I heard my sentence, and it was carried
out at once. Braccio himself hacked off my spurs, my sword was brought
in and solemnly broken, and I was warned to leave the camp within an
hour, on pain of being hanged as a thief. Such property as I had was
declared confiscate, and the men of my _condotta_ were to be enrolled,
by force if necessary, under another banner. How I went through it all
I do not know. I cannot say how I passed down that great hall with the
eyes of all fixed on me, a dishonoured man, an outcast, and a leper.
One thing, however, did happen. Whilst the sentence was being carried
out, Tremouille sat apparently absorbed in thought. When the provost
broke my sword he rose to leave the room, and as he passed
D'Entrangues the duke stopped.

"Monsieur," he said, "you have mistaken your vocation. His majesty
does not desire his officers to be thief-hunters. For such talents as
yours you will doubtless find room elsewhere, and I have to tell you
that the king--my master--regrets he has no further need of your
services."




                             CHAPTER III.

                         MADAME D'ENTRANGUES.


When I left the door of the justice room I had to pass through the
main court-yard, and run the gauntlet of open scorn and contempt,
bestowed upon me by all assembled there. It was a great thing for
them, for those whom the French call _canaille_--we have no such
appropriate word in our own tongue--to see a noble dragged in the dust
and covered with infamy. And they did not spare me, taunt and jeer
passed from mouth to mouth. Some even would have gone so far as to
strike at me, had not their officers prevented them.

"Ah, _Croque-mort!_" exclaimed an arquebusier, "you should hang;" but
the man stepped back a half-pace at my look, and, gaining the outer
gate, I pressed on, hardly knowing whither my steps led me. I soon
found out I was going in the direction of Arezzo itself, and as that
was as good as any other place for me at present, I made no alteration
in my course; but anxious to get on as fast as possible, quickened my
pace almost to a run, until I was tired out, and perforce compelled to
go slower.

This happened when I had covered about a mile, and was beginning the
ascent leading to the town; and here I heard behind me the clatter of
horses' hoofs, and looking back beheld a party riding in my direction.
I turned aside, and, concealing myself behind the stem of a locust
tree, waited until the riders should pass. This they did in a few
moments, and I saw it was Tremouille and his staff returning to the
town. By the side of the duchess, who was riding with her husband, was
Bayard, mounted on a bay English horse, which he managed with infinite
grace and dexterity.

Madame de la Tremouille was in the best of humours, most probably at
the recovery of her circlet, for she was laughing gaily as she said
something; but they went by too rapidly for me to catch the words. I
waited until the troop was lost in the yellow dust which rose behind
them, and then, stepping forth from my hiding-place, became aware that
I was not alone; but that a body was hanging from a branch of the tree
close to where I was standing, and this I had not noticed in my
eagerness to escape observation. It needed but a glance to recognise
Tarbes, my scoundrel, who had paid so long a price for his treachery;
he was swinging there dead enough, overreached and destroyed by the
master-villain.

The sight of my dead knave brought up an angry wave of hatred in my
heart towards D'Entrangues, and I prayed that I might not die until I
was even with him. So great was the uprising of my anger, that at the
time I bitterly regretted not having seized the opportunity to wound
him, by plainly answering Tremouille's last question. With my rage
against D'Entrangues, there came an almost similar feeling towards
Madame, and I began to accuse her in my heart of being the original
cause of my misfortunes, and of conspiring, by her silence, to set the
seal of my ruin. I did not stop to think that I was ruined already,
and that it mattered little whether Madame allowed me to be silent or
not. I only felt that she had made me pay too great a price for her
reputation, and that she had sacrificed me mercilessly.

When I hastened from the scene of my condemnation, I had no other
idea but of death, of self-destruction rather than life as it would be
now to me; but I put aside all these thoughts for I had to live for
revenge. That would be my first object, and until it was achieved I
would not rest. With this in my mind I gained the St. Clement Gate of
Arezzo, passing through without notice.

Walking down the Via San Dominico, I turned to the right by the
Borgo di San Vito, and here I was recognised and hooted. Pressing
hurriedly forwards, and aided opportunely by the passage of a body of
men-at-arms, coming through the street in a direction opposite to that
of my followers, I succeeded in shaking off my tormentors, and turning
again to the right up a narrow street, entered a barber's shop to have
my beard removed in order to disguise myself as far as possible. The
barber, a fussy little fellow, placed me before a mirror of polished
steel, and as he set to work stropping a razor on the palm of his
hand, I removed my cap, and for the first time observed that the hair
of my head was thickly streaked with grey.

"Your excellency has doubtless come to join the army," said the barber
in a tone of inquiry as he drew his razor across my face.

"Ah, yes, yes; I have just come," I replied, and the little man went
on--

"There have been great doings to-day. 'Tis said the duke has ordered
the Count di Savelli to be executed for having in his possession a
favour of Madame. They say the count stole it, but we know better,
don't we, your excellency?" and the little fool chuckled to himself.
He went on without waiting for an answer. "Ah, yes; the ladies can
never resist us soldiers. I may tell you that I served with Don Carlo
Baglioni, and can bear my pike--there now, I think that side is clean
shaven--as I was saying before, it was hard on the Marquis di Savelli,
a gallant noble whom I frequently saw--pardon, your excellency, it is
but a scratch after all--had you not moved so suddenly, still only a
scratch, nothing for a soldier. The Marquis di Savelli, as I said, was
a regular customer of mine, and he had a lovely head of hair, your
excellency. It was not so much before I took him in hand. _Ecco!_ but
in a month you should have seen! He came in here in his free easy way,
and flung me ten crowns. 'Buy a ribbon for Madonna Giulia with that,
Messer Pazzi,' says he; 'and harkee, send me over six more bottles of
your elixir of St. Symmachus. _Maldetto!_' he exclaimed, twisting his
curls between his fingers, 'but she adores me now.' Now who, I say,
could _she_ have been but--_tchick_? _Diavolo_? it is done; never a
cleaner shave in Rome itself. If your excellency's fortune grows as
well as your hair, I could wish you no better luck."

I rose in silence, and, flinging him a crown, bade him pay himself,
and receiving my change, hurried out, declining all Messer Pazzi's
entreaties to bear with me a bottle of his precious elixir of St.
Symmachus or any other accursed balsam. I saw at a glance that the
removal of my beard caused a considerable alteration in my appearance,
and imagined if I could but change my attire, my most intimate friends
would not know me unless they observed closely; and even then might
perhaps fail to recognise me. This view, as it turned out, was not
quite correct, and I had yet to learn how difficult a thing it is to
arrange a complete disguise.

A few doors further on I laid out some of my money in the purchase
of a stout leather buff coat, along dark mantle, and a cap to match.
The cap was ornamented with a single black feather; and when I had
donned these garments I felt that, wrapped in the cloak, with the cap
pulled well over my eyes, and the feather standing defiantly out to
the side, that I wanted but a fathom of sword to make myself as
ruffianly-looking a bravo as ever trod the purlieus of Naples or Rome.
But the sword was some difficulty, for my crowns had dwindled to
sixteen. Fortunately I had on my finger a sapphire ring, and this I
pledged for twenty crowns, and made my way to the armourer's. I there
selected a long straight weapon, with a plain cross handle and a
cutting blade, such as would be useful for rough work, and, after some
haggling, got it for ten pieces. The armourer assured me that it was a
sound blade, and I may say it did me good service. It now hangs in my
bed-chamber, a little chipped, it is true, but as bright and as fit
for use as the day I paid for it, with a heavy heart, in Don Piero's
shop, near the gate of St. Lawrence in Arezzo.

I began now to feel the want of food, for beyond the cup of Chianti
brought to me by the under-officer I had tasted nothing since
yesterday evening, and therefore stepping into an ordinary called for
a flagon of wine and a pasty. Whilst engaged in assaulting these,
half-a-dozen men, whom I recognised as belonging to the garrison,
entered the hostel, but to my joy I saw I was not known to them, and
after a casual glance at me they fell to eating their meal.

I was however perforce compelled to listen to their conversation,
which was carried on in the loud tone men of their class affect, and
found to my annoyance that they were discussing me, and the events of
the day. In order to escape this I was about to rise, when I heard one
of them mention D'Entrangues' name, and stopped to listen.

"He has left for Florence, and, it is said, intends to offer his sword
to the Signory," said one.

"And the other?"

"Heaven knows! Perhaps Braccio's arm has reached him, poor devil!"

"Well, he was a good soldier and a stout lance."

"_Basta!_" said the first speaker. "What does a little lightness of
finger matter? Play it in a small way, you're a thief, and food for
Messer Braccio, curse him! Play it on a big scale and you're a prince.
I for one don't think the less of Di Savelli because perhaps his hand
at cards was always too good, and he made that little error in the
matter of the rubies. A gentleman is sometimes driven to hard straits.
I was a gentleman once and ought to know. I give you a toast--Here's
to a long sword and a light hand!"

They drank with acclamation, and then set to a-dicing. I had however
heard enough, and settling my account with the host, stepped forth
into the street, intending to depart from the town by the Porta San
Spirito or Roman Gate, leaving the camp over my shoulder, and to make
my way to Florence as soon as possible. There I would meet
D'Entrangues, and kill him like a mad dog. I ground my teeth with rage
when I thought I had no horse, nor even the means to purchase one, and
must trudge it like any _contadino_. But if I had to crawl on my hands
and knees, I was determined to reach Florence and D'Entrangues.

It was however not yet sundown, and my idea was to leave the city when
it was well dusk to avoid all possible chance of recognition. I meant
to have passed the interval in the inn; but, as I felt this was
impossible, it was necessary to find another spot where I could lay in
quiet. With this end in view I crossed the Piazza di Popolo in an
easterly direction, and went on until I came to the Franciscan church,
into which I entered, not, I am sorry to say, with any desire for
devotion, but merely because I was less likely to be disturbed there
than anywhere else I could imagine. I was right, in so far that on
entering the church I found it, as I thought, empty, but on looking
round I saw beneath the newly-completed wheel-window, the work of
Guillaume de Marseille, a kneeling figure, apparently absorbed in
prayer. I had approached quite close before I became aware that I was
not alone, and was about to turn away, when, perhaps startled by the
sound of my footfalls on the marble pavement, the person rose
hurriedly and looked towards me. It was Madame D'Entrangues. Her
glance met mine for a second as that of a stranger, but as I was
moving away some trick of gesture, or perhaps the hot anger in my
eyes, told her who I was, for, calling my name, she came towards me
with outstretched hands.

"Di Savelli," she said, for I made no advance, "do you not know me?"

"Madame," I bowed, "I am unfit to touch you."

"No, no--a thousand times no! It is I who am unworthy."

I still remained silent, and she asked with a passionate emphasis--

"Man, have you never sinned?"

The words struck me like a shot. I felt in a moment I had no right to
stand in judgment.

"God knows," I replied, "I have, and I have been punished."

With that she took hold of my hand, and then suddenly burst into
tears, weeping over me with words I cannot repeat. It was not for me
to fling reproaches, and I softened and did what I could to appease
her.

"I could not help it," she said, "I was not strong enough to speak or
to let you speak. Oh, you do not know what such a thing is to a
woman!"

"Let it pass, madame. What is dead is dead."

"I cannot. And yet, what can I do?" Her tears began afresh.

In a little time she grew better, and I seized the opportunity to
point out the danger she ran of being seen speaking to me, and
suggested that she should make her way home. It was impossible to
escort her myself, but I would walk a little way behind, keep her in
sight, and see she came to no harm. I urged this all the more as I saw
it was growing late, and that she was without any attendants and far
from the camp.

"You mistake," she said; "I have not far to go. In fact I am at
present the guest of the convent here."

"And----" I did not finish the sentence, but she understood. I had
forced myself to ask, to hear, if possible, confirmation of
D'Entrangues' movements.

"He," she answered--"he has left the army and gone towards Florence."

"And you?"

"I stay here for the present."

Her tone more than her words convinced me that she had been abandoned
by D'Entrangues, and it added another mark to my score against him.

"Why should I not tell you?" she continued. "After, when it was all
over, the duke struck his name off the army, and he left in an hour.
Before he went, he came and told me all, laughing at your ruin. I did
not know man could be so vile. God help me--it is my husband I speak
of! He offered to take me with him, but I refused; and he left,
mocking like a devil, with words I cannot repeat. He was not done with
you or with me, he said, as he went. I came here at once, and perhaps
when Madame de la Tremouille returns to France, I shall be enabled to
go with her in her train."

"Excuse my asking it," I said, "but have you----?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled sadly, "it is not that in any way."

At this moment I looked up and saw that it was sunset. Through the
wheel-window the orange beams streamed in a long banner, and lit up
the figure of the saint above us. The rays fell on madame's pale face,
and touched with fire the gold of her hair. We stood before each other
in a dead silence.

"Good-bye," I said, extending my hand.

She placed her own in it and our eyes met.

It was a moment of danger to both. Leper as I was, I had but to lift
my hand, but to say a word, and here was one who would have followed
me like a dog. I felt her weakness in her look, in the touch of her
hand, which shivered as it lay in mine like a captive bird. At once a
fire leapt up within me. I had lost all--everything. Why not throw
revenge after my losses, and with her by my side seek a new fortune
with a new name? The grand Turk needed soldiers, and what mattered it
whether it was cross or crescent that I served?'

But the woman became strong as I grew weak.

"Go!" she said faintly.

I dropped her hand, and, turning without a word, strode down the
aisle. As I reached the church door the bells of the Angelus rang out,
and yielding to a sudden impulse I looked back.

Madame was on her knees before the saint.




                             CHAPTER IV.

                    A FOOL'S CAP AND A SORE HEART.


I was not so dense as to fail to grasp the extent of the peril I had
escaped, or to fully realise the evil strength of the temptation,
which came upon me as suddenly as a sneeze. It is rare in matters of
this kind for wicked thoughts to be of slow growth; they spring at
once to life, full-armed. I thanked God in my heart that I was able to
sweep aside the base desire, which covered my soul like a black cloud,
and refrained from taking advantage of madame's momentary weakness. I
could not but see I was to blame myself.

I, the elder and the stronger, should have foreseen the probable
consequences of a friendship such as ours, and my sorrow for her was
mixed with the deepest regret for my part in the transaction. I
banished all idea of attacking D'Entrangues through his wife,
wondering at the littleness of spirit which had ever conceived such a
thought. If it were possible, I would have kicked myself. Perhaps such
victory as I gained over my heart was due to the secret springs of my
vanity being touched, to the fear of the loss of my self-respect, and
this mingling with my pity and regret, gave me the strength to win at
the moment of temptation. It is difficult to tell; I have lived long
enough in the world to know that the mysteries of the heart will
remain veiled to the end. Occasionally we may lift the curtain a
little, but more no man has done.

What had happened, however, explained clearly to me the motive for
D'Entrangues' conduct. He, at any rate, must have seen, long before
either of us, how affairs stood with the wife whose life he
embittered; but he made no effort to save her, contenting himself with
striking an assassin's blow, which had taken from him the last shred
of respect madame may have felt for him, and which had in part
recoiled on his own head. Be this as it may, his stroke was
successful, in that to all intents and purposes it had utterly blasted
me. I was worse than dead. It was no ordinary revenge. In those
troublous times, a blow from a dagger could have easily rid him of a
wife of whom he was sick, or a man whom he hated, and no one would
have thrown the matter in his teeth. But with devilish cruelty, he
inflicted wounds which could never heal, and left his victims to live.
It was impossible to hit such a man back, in a way to make him feel to
the utmost extent the agony he had administered; the only thing was to
take from him his worthless life: this he doubtless valued most of all
things, and I meant to deprive him of it, if he stood at the altar of
Christ. Moved by such thoughts, and with my cloak drawn well over the
lower part of my face, I hastened towards the Roman Gate, reaching it
just as it was to be closed for the night. In fact, as I passed out,
the huge doors came together behind me with a groaning, and at the
same time I heard the dull boom of the evening gun from the camp,
followed immediately by the distant peals of the trumpets of the
cavalry brigade.

The sun had now set, and night came apace; a grey haze enveloped the
town behind me; above, in the deep violet of the sky, a few stars were
shining, soon to be dimmed by the rising moon; from the east a bank of
clouds was rapidly approaching, the advance guard of a storm from the
Adriatic. To the west, there was still light enough to see the Chiana,
lying like a silver thread, flung carelessly to earth in long folds,
and the rugged outlines of the roadless Chianti hills stood up in
fantastic shapes against the horizon. South-east was the peak of Monte
Eavulto; due west, beyond Bucine, Mount Luco was yet visible. I halted
for a moment, hesitating what course to take; whether to cross the
swamps of the Chiana valley, and make my way over the Ambra to
Montevarchi, and on to Florence; or to skirt the camp, cross the Arno
at one of the fords between Laterine and Giove, and go on through the
Prato Magno.

As the crow flies, Florence was but a few leagues distant; but I
obviously would have to journey by side-paths, over hill and across
valley to avoid observation, and this would occupy at least two days,
unless my travels were permanently stopped by my being cut off by a
privateering party from the camp, or by any other untoward accident.
Neither contingency was unlikely, for the writ of the king ran barely
a league from the army, and the country was full of banditti. In fact,
for a half-pistole one might have had a priest's throat cut. I decided
on the former route. So muffling myself well in my cloak, for the wind
blew chill, with my sword resting in the loop of my arm, I set forward
at a round pace, and avoiding the camp, directed my steps towards
Bucine. As far as Chiani I knew the road. Beyond that there was
nothing but quagmire and swamp; still I had little doubt of finding my
way by the moon, which would soon show, and if, perchance, I fell in
with nighthawks, well then, there was little to be gained from me but
hard knocks; and it would be an opportunity to test the temper of the
blade I had purchased from Don Piero, the armourer.

In this mind I pressed on, intending to lie at Bucine for the night,
or, if no better accommodation offered, to sleep as a soldier should,
wrapped in my cloak, with the sky for a roof. As I went on, I found I
was relying a little too much on my knowledge of the road, and a blue
mist, which rose from the ground, made it impossible to pick my way by
landmarks. Stumbling along, I took a good two hours to do what should
have been done in one, and, by the time I reached Chiani, began to
think it would be well to reconsider my decision in regard to making
Bucine that night. It was then that I suddenly remembered that Chiani
was held by a piquet of Swiss infantry, and any attempt to enter would
be impossible, as the gates were doubtless shut. I was a little put
out, for had I only recollected the fact before, I might have been
saved the extra mile or so of hard work I had to reach within a few
yards of Chiani, merely for the pleasure of turning back. The moon,
come out by this time, shone fitfully through the bank of clouds,
which was shifting uneasily overhead, and the wind, rising steadily,
marked rain. I stirred myself all the faster, for I was in no mind to
add a wetting to my misfortunes, and a drop or two of rain that caught
me, showed I had but little leisure to lose. I made out a narrow
cattle track, and hurried along this; but before I covered a mile the
moon was obscured, and the wind dropped. It now began to rain, and the
darkness was so thick, that I could only just follow the road. Soon
the track died away into nothing, and I found myself floundering, over
my ankles in mud, and up to the waist in wet rushes. At any moment I
might strike a quicksand, with which these marshes abound, so I used
my sword as a search-pole, stepping only where I found foot-hold, a
dozen inches or so below the surface of the bog. In this perplexity,
imagine my relief to see the blaze of a fire shoot up beyond a small
rising ground before me, and throw an arc of light into the darkness,
against which the falling rain glittered like fine wires of silver. I
shouted aloud and to my joy got an answer.

"Who is there? What is the matter?"

"A traveller," I replied, "who has lost his way in this cursed swamp.
Whoever you are, you will make a friend and find a reward if you lead
me out of this."

"Come straight on, there is no danger beyond getting your feet wet."

"They are that already," I answered, and pressed on, having absolutely
to force my way through the wet rushes, which wound themselves round
me impeding my progress terribly. Moreover, so sticky was the slime
below, that I thought every moment it would pull the boots off my
feet. Struggling on in this manner for a hundred yards or more, guided
by the fire, and an occasional shout from my unknown friend, I at last
touched hard ground, and with a "Thank heaven!" got out of the swamp,
and found myself at the foot of the hillock, behind which the fire was
blazing.

"Which way to Bucine?" I called out.

"Are you out of the swamp?"

"Yes!"

"Then come round the shoulder of the hill to your right, and follow
your nose. You will find shelter here. Bucine you could never reach
to-night, and a dog should not be out in this weather."

"True, friend," I muttered, and with a loud "thanks" to the apparently
hospitable unknown, I followed his directions, and rounding the
hillock, saw before me, spluttering in the rain, a huge fire of
pine-logs, at the entrance to a hut of the rudest description. Inside,
I perceived a sitting figure, over which the light from the fire
alternately cast a glare, and then left it in darkness. I made my way
to the open door, which hung back on hinges of rope, and entered
without further ceremony.

"Humph!" snorted my host, without moving from his position. "I said it
was no night for a dog to be out, I did not say anything of a wolf."

This change of tone was not so surprising, for dripping wet, covered
with mud, and white with fatigue, my general appearance was but little
calculated to re-assure any one. Yet, as I hung my cloak on a rough
wooden peg which caught my eye, I could not help laughing in mockery
as I answered:

"Wolves, friend, come to wolves' lairs."

He took no notice of my remark; but pointing to a heap of rushes
opposite to him, said, "Sit down there." He then rose, and went
towards the fire with an unlit torch in his hand. This gave me some
opportunity of observing him. I saw he was of spare, but elastic
figure. His head was bare, and his white hair hung in matted locks
over a lean neck to his shoulders. His dress was fantastic, and
entirely out of place with his surroundings. It consisted of a tight
fitting jerkin of parti-coloured velvet, with puffed breeches to
match, pulled over thick black hose. On his feet were the ordinary
sandals of the peasantry, and, as he stooped to light the torch-wood,
I saw his face was seamed with wrinkles, and that his lips moved
rapidly, as if he was speaking, although no sound issued from them. He
did not delay about his business; but hastened in, and sticking the
torch in a hole in the floor between us, resumed his seat, and said
abruptly--

"Let me look at you?"

Apparently his scrutiny was satisfactory, and I did nothing to
interrupt him.

"Hungry?"

"No. All that I ask is to be allowed to rest here till to-morrow."

"That is well, for I have no food to offer you; but here is some wine
in this skin."

He reached to a corner and pulled out a small wineskin. This he placed
before me with the single word "drink."

"No, thanks." The whole manner and aspect of the man were so peculiar,
that, although I was much fatigued, I judged it prudent to decline.
His quick eye seemed to read my thoughts, for he laughed a little
bitterly as he said--

"Tush, man! There is no fear. You bear too long a sword to have a
purse worth the picking, and you are not supping," a look of hate
passed over his features as he dropped out slowly, "with the Borgia.
See, I will give you a toast--Revenge." He took a pull at the skin and
flung it to me.

"I drink to that," I said, tasting the wine in my turn. Here then was
another who, like me, sought for consolation in vengeance. We sat in
silence for some minutes, each absorbed in his own thoughts. The heat
from the fire had warmed the hut so, that the blue steam began to rise
from my damp clothes. My companion reclined on his elbow tracing some
diagram on the floor with a poniard, which from its shape was
evidently of Eastern make. The rain, which now increased in violence,
had almost quenched the log-fire, and was invading our shelter, for
the roof began to leak. There being no wind the torch burned steadily,
throwing sufficient light for us to distinguish each other. I began to
wonder what manner of man this was before me, dressed in a motley of
court-fool and peasant, and my curiosity was aroused to such an
extent, that for the time I forgot my own troubles. Nevertheless I
made no sign of inquiry, knowing there is no means so sure of
obtaining information as to seem not to desire it. My new friend
kept his eyes fixed on the point of his dagger, the muscles of his
queer-webbed face twitching nervously. At length he became conscious
of my scrutiny, for lifting his eyes, he looked me in the face, and
then made a motion of his hand towards the wine-skin.

"No more, thanks."

"There will be that left for to-morrow before we start."

"Then you also are a traveller?"

"If you so put it; but I have been here for a week."

"An odd retreat to choose."

"Any hole will do for a rat."

"True; but we were wolves a moment ago," I smiled.

"I did not say I was," he replied drily, "but you looked wolf all over
when you came in. Give me your hand."

I stretched out my hand, and he held my open palm near the torch, bent
over it, and examined the lines keenly.

"Yes," he muttered half to himself, "strong fingers that can close
over a sword-hilt, a soldier too, and one who has seen wars. Too much
conscience ever to be great. You will never die a prince as Sforza
did. Stay--what do I see? A man changed to a wolf--no--wolf you will
never be. A bitter enemy, a woman who loves you, and a free heart for
yourself. Sorrow and danger, bale and ruth, then calm waters and
peace. There! Are you satisfied? If the devil does not upset this, it
is the map of your life. Can you read mine?"

"No," I replied, withdrawing my hand, and somewhat surprised at the
general accuracy of this man's knowledge of my past. Yet, I could not
help crossing myself as I thought of his allusion to the foul fiend.

"Ay!" he sneered, "cross yourself. Peter and Paul are old and blind.
They do not see. Pray if you like. God is too far above the stars to
hear you. Go on your knees and beat at the skies with your
lamentations. You will surely see the light of a seraph's wings. Do I
not know--have I not seen the deep? Some day you will know, too."

He stopped as suddenly as he burst out, and betook himself to his old
trick of moving his lips rapidly, forming words without any sound. I
began to think I was with a madman, and rapidly cast up the chances of
a struggle. I was physically the stronger, but armed as he was, with
an unsheathed dagger, the odds were against me. Perhaps it would be
prudent to begin the assault myself, and taking him by surprise,
overpower him. When, however, I came to consider that I was in a
manner his guest, that he had shown me kindness, and given no signs of
personal violence, I was ashamed of my fears.

"You say you are going to Bucine?" He asked the question in his usual
abrupt manner; but his tone was composed.

"It lies on my road."

"And on mine, too. Shall we travel together? I could point out the
way."

"Certainly. It is very good of you."

"Well, it is time to sleep, and the torch has burnt to an end."

As he spoke he stretched himself out at full length, and, turning his
back to me, appeared to sink at once into slumber. I watched him for
some time by the embers of the torch, wondering if I was wise in
accepting his companionship, and then, overpowered by fatigue, lost
myself in sleep, heedless of the rain, which dripped in twenty places
through the roof.

I slept profoundly, until aroused by my shoulder being gently shaken,
and looking up, beheld my host, as I must call him, bending over me. I
thought I had slept for a few minutes only, and saw to my surprise
that it was well in the morning, and the sun shone brightly. All
traces of cloud were gone, though soft billows of mist rolled over the
olive gardens, and vineyards of Chianti grape, that stretched towards
Montevarchi.

"Heavens, man! How you sleep! I was right when I hinted you had a good
conscience."

I scrambled up with a hasty Good-morning; and a few minutes
afterwards, having finished the remains of the wine in the skin, we
started off in the direction of Bucine. My companion had politely
never inquired my name, and I had been equally reticent. He placed on
his head a silken fools'-cap, and the bells on it jingled incessantly
as he walked along with a jaunty air, at a pace that was remarkable
for a man of his age. He seemed to have lost the melancholy that
possessed him during the night, and conversed in so cheerful and
entertaining a manner, that in spite of myself, I was interested and
withdrawn from my unhappy thoughts. He kept up his mood to Bucine
where, notwithstanding our strange appearance, we attracted, to my
relief, less attention than I imagined we should draw.

With appetites sharpened by our walk, we did full justice to the meal
I ordered at the only hostel in the place. Here I played host, as a
return for my entertainment, and in conversation my acquaintance said
that he was bound for Florence. I told him that also was my point, and
invited him to bear me company on the road, to which he willingly
agreed. I made an attempt here to hire a horse; but not even a donkey
was procurable, all available carriage having been seized upon for the
army. So once more descending the hill on which Bucine is situated, we
forded the river and continued our journey.

At the albergo we heard that a body of troops were foraging along the
banks of the Arno, and resolved to make a detour, and, crossing Monte
Luco, to keep on the sides of the Chianti hills, if necessary avoiding
Montevarchi altogether. My companion maintained his high spirits until
we reached the top of the spur of Monte Luco, known to the peasantry
as the Virgin's Cradle. Here we stopped to breathe and observe the
view. I looked back across the Chiana valley, and let my eye run over
the landscape which stretched as far as the Marches. In the blue
splash, to the south of the rugged and conical hill of Cortona, I
recognised Trasimene, and beyond it lay Perugia. I turned to call my
friend's attention to the scene, and at first did not perceive where
he was. Another glance showed him standing on the edge of the cliff, a
little to my left, shaking his clenched hand in the direction of
Perugia, whilst on his face was marked every sign of sorrow and hate.

Curious to see what this would result in, I made no attempt to attract
his attention, but in a moment he shook off the influence which
possessed him, and rejoined me with a calm brow. We thereupon
continued our journey with this difference, that my companion was now
as silent as hitherto he had been cheerful. My own dark thoughts too
came back to roost, and in a gloom we descended the Cradle, pushing
our way through the myrtle with which it was covered, and walked on,
holding Montevarchi to our right.

We kept a sharp look-out for the foragers, and seeing no signs of
them, made up our minds, after some consultation, to risk going to
Montevarchi, which we reached without mishap a little after noon. It
was not my intention to halt there more than an hour or so, which I,
hoping I would have better luck than at Bucine, intended to spend in
trying to hire an animal of some kind to ride.

We stopped at the Bell Inn, near the gate, and after a deal of
bargaining, which consumed a good hour, the landlord agreed to hire me
his mule for two crowns. The rascal wanted ten at first. Just as the
matter was settled a dozen or so of troopers rode in, and, spying the
mule, in the twinkling of an eye claimed it for carriage purposes.

It was in vain the landlord protested that it was his last beast, that
it had been hired to the noble cavaliere, meaning me, and many other
things beside. The soldiers were deaf to his entreaties, and although
I had more than a mind to draw on the villains, I had the good sense
to restrain myself, for the odds were too many against me. I therefore
hid my chagrin under a smile, and the mule was led away amidst the
lamentations of mine host, who was further put out of pocket by a
gallon or so of wine, which the troopers consumed, doubtless in honour
of the prize they had taken, neglecting in the true fashion of the
_compagnes grandes_ to pay for it. It was a fit lesson to the
landlord, for had he not, in his cupidity, haggled for an hour over
the hire of the animal, he might have been the richer by two crowns
and still owned his mule. Thus it is that avarice finds its own
punishment.

On going off, the leader of the troop, a man whom I knew by sight and
by reputation as a swashbuckler, if ever there was one, made me a mock
salute, saying, in allusion to my quietness in surrendering my claim
to the mule, "Adieu, Messer Feather-Cap--may your courage grow as long
as your sword." This taunt I swallowed ruefully, and immediately set
about my departure. My companion, who was not mixed up in the
altercation, joined me silently, and we followed in the direction
taken by the troopers, pursued by the maledictions of the innkeeper,
who vented his spleen on us as the indirect cause of his misfortune.

The foragers, who owing to the warmth of the weather had all removed
their breast-plates, which were slung to their saddles, were going at
a walking pace; and it was amusing to see how the mere sight of their
presence cleared the streets. Noting, however, that they did not
appear to be bent on personal injury, we did not think it necessary to
go out of our course, or delay our departure until they left the town,
and as we walked fast and they went slowly, by the time they reached
the main square, we were not more than a dozen yards behind them.

At this moment we noticed the figure of a woman, apparently blind, for
she was guided by a little dog attached to a string. The poor creature
was crossing the pavement almost in front of the leader of the troop,
and as she was right in the path of the troopers, we attempted to warn
her by shouting, and she stooped irresolutely, hardly knowing which
way to turn. The troop leader, without making any effort to avoid her,
rode on in a pitiless manner, and she was flung senseless to the
ground. In this her hood fell back, uncovering her face, and my
companion, suddenly uttering a loud cry, ran forward, and seizing her
in his arms, began to address her with every term of endearment, in
the manner of a father to his child.

The troopers halted--discipline it will be observed was not great--and
one of them with rough sympathy called to my friend to bear the girl,
for so she looked, to the fountain, at the same time that their
commander gave a loud order to go on, and to leave off looking at a
fool and a beggar. I had, however, made up my mind there was a little
work for me, and, drawing my sword, stepped up to the swashbuckler's
bridle, and asked for a five minutes' interview there and then.

He burst into a loud laugh, "_Corpo di Bacco!_ Here is Messer
Feather-Cap with his courage grown. Here! two of you bind him to the
mule."

But the men with him were in no mood to obey, and one of them openly
said--

"It is always thus with the ancient Brico."

"Do you intend to give me the pleasure I seek," I asked, "or has the
ancient Brico taken off his heart with his corselet?"

For a moment it looked as if he were about to ride at me: but my sword
was ready, and I was standing too close to him for any such treachery
to be carried off. Flinging the reins, therefore, to the neck of his
horse, he dismounted slowly and drew his sword. A number of the
townsfolk, attracted by the scene, so far forgot their fear of the
foragers as to collect around us, and in a few moments a ring was
formed, one portion of which was occupied by the troopers.

Brico took his stand so as to place the sun in my eyes, a manifest
unfairness, for we should have fought north and south; yet I made no
objection, and unclasping my cloak let it fall to the ground behind
me.

"_À vous!_" he called out, and the next moment we engaged in the lower
circle, my opponent, for all his French cry, adopting the Italian
method, and using a dagger to parry. For a few seconds we tried to
feel each other, and I was delighted with the balance of my sword. It
did not take me a half minute to see that he was a child in my hands,
and I began to rapidly consider whether it would be worth the candle
to kill him or not. Brico, who had commenced the assault with a stamp
of his foot, and a succession of rapid thrusts in the lower lines,
became aware of his weakness as soon as I did, and began to back
slowly. I twice pricked him over the heart, and his hand began to
shake, so that he could hardly hold his weapon.

"Make way there," I called out mockingly, "the ancient would like to
run a little."

Maddened by this taunt, he pulled himself together and lunged
recklessly at me in tierce; it was an easy parry, and with a strong
beat I disarmed him. He did not wait, but with the rapidity of a hare
turned and fled, not so fast, however, but that I was able to
accelerate his departure with a stroke from the flat of my sword.

"Adieu, ancient Brico!" I called out after him as he ran on, followed
by a howl of derision from the crowd, in which his own men joined.

It was lucky that I adopted the course of disarming him, for had the
affair ended otherwise, I doubt not but that the men-at-arms would
have felt called upon to avenge their leader, poltroon as he was. As
it happened they enjoyed his discomfiture, and an old trooper called
out to me--

"Well fought, signore--you should join us--there is room for your
sword under the banner of Tremouille. What--no--I am sorry; but go in
peace, for you have rid us of a cur."

Saying this, they rode off, one of their number leading the ancient's
horse by the bridle.

I turned now to look for my companion. He was nowhere to be seen, and
on inquiry I found that he had lifted the girl up, and supporting her
on his arm, the two, followed by the dog, had turned down by the
church, and were now not in view. It would, no doubt, have been easy
to follow, and as easy to trace them; but I reasoned that the man must
have purposely done this to avoid me; and after all it was no business
of mine. I therefore returned my sword to its sheath and walked on.




                              CHAPTER V.

                     D'ENTRANGUES SCORES A POINT.


Before I had gone fifty paces, however, I became aware that there was
some law left in Montevarchi, for a warning cry made me look over my
shoulder, and I saw a party of the city-guards, who had discreetly
kept out of the way when Brico and I crossed swords, hurrying towards
me. The same glance showed me that the ancient was already in their
hands, and was being dragged along with but little regard to his
comfort; and I felt sure that now, as the troop was gone, the citizens
would wreak their vengeance on this hen-roost robber, and he would be
lucky if he escaped with life. As for me, the catchpolls being out,
they no doubt reasoned that they might as well net me. To stop and
resist, would only result in my being ultimately overpowered, and
perhaps imprisoned; to yield without a blow meant very much the same
thing, and, in the shake of a drake's tail, I resolved to run, and to
trust for escape to my turn for speed. So I set off at my roundest
pace, followed by the posse, and the rabble who but a moment before
were cheering me.

More than once I felt inclined to turn, and end the matter for myself;
but the fact that this might mean laying aside all chance of settling
D'Entrangues, urged me to my best efforts. Some fool made an attempt
to stop me, and I was compelled to slash him across the face with my
sword, as a warning not to interfere with matters with which he had no
concern. I hardly knew where I was going; but dashed down a little
bye-street, and was, after a hundred yards, brought to a halt by a
dead wall. I could barely reach the top of it with my hands, luckily
this was enough to allow me to draw myself up, and drop over to the
other side, just as the police reached within ten feet of me. I did
not stop to take notes of their action, but was off as soon as my feet
touched ground, and found to my joy that I was close to one of the
unrepaired breaches in the city wall, made six months ago by
Tremouille's cannon. Through this I rushed, and scrambling down a
slope of broken stone and mortar, found I would be compelled to climb
down very nearly a hundred feet of what looked like the sheer face of
a rock, before I could reach level ground. There was not even a goat
track. My agility was, however, spurred on by hearing shouts behind
me, and preferring to risk death in attempting the descent, rather
than fall into the hands of messer the podesta, I chanced the venture,
and partly by holding on to the tough broom roots, partly slipping,
and aided by Providence and Our Lady of San Spirito, to whom I
hurriedly cast up a prayer, I managed to reach the bottom, and fell,
exhausted and breathless, into a cistus hedge.

I was too beaten to go another yard, and had my pursuers only followed
up, must have become an easy prey. As it was I heard them reach the
breach, where they came to a stop, all shouting and babbling at the
same time. One or two, bolder than the others, attempted to descend
the ledge of rock, down which I escaped, but its steepness damped
their courage. They, however, succeeded in loosening some of the
débris so that it fell over the cliff, and a few of the stones dropped
very close to me; but by good hap I escaped, or else this would never
have been written. One great block indeed, just passed over my head,
and I vowed an altar-piece to Our Lady of San Spirito, who alone could
have diverted that which was coming straight to my destruction; and I
may add I duly kept my word. After a time the voices above began to
grow fainter, and to my delight I found that the citizens, thinking it
impossible I should have escaped like a lizard amongst the rocks, were
harking back, and ranging to the right and left. I waited until all
sound died away, and cautiously peeped out. The coast was clear. I had
recovered my wind, and without more waste of time, I rose and pressed
on in the direction of the hills, determined to chance no further
adventures near the towns. Indeed, I had crowded more incident into
the past few hours, than into the previous five-and-thirty years of my
life, and my sole object, at present, was to reach Florence without
further let or hindrance.

Keeping the vineyards between me and the town, I avoided all
observation, and at a small wayside inn, filled a wallet which I
purchased, with food and a bottle of the rough country wine, so that
there might be no necessity for my visiting a human habitation during
the remainder of my journey. With the wallet swung over my shoulder,
an hour or so later I was ascending the slopes of Mount St. Michele,
cursing the fallen pine-needles, which made my foothold so slippery,
that I slid rather than walked.

Turning the corner of a bluff, I suddenly came upon half-a-dozen men,
reclining under the pines in various attitudes of ease. They sprang up
at once on seeing me, and one of them, presenting his arquebus, called
on me to halt.

"You must pay our toll before you pass, Signore," said the man, who
appeared to be the leader of the party.

"As you please," I replied, "but my only metal is cold steel."

"_Corpo di Bacco!_" he exclaimed. "I thought I knew you, and your
voice makes me certain. Surely I address the Cavaliere di Savelli?"

I bowed, a little confused at the thought of my disguise being so
easily penetrated, and the bandit went on, turning to his comrades--

"Put down your gun, Spalle, this gentleman is one of us, and--hawks do
not peck out hawks' eyes. Signore," he added, "you pass free. I had
the honour to serve in your _condotta_ during the Siena war, and
doubtless you remember Piero Luigi?"

"I do," I said, and the memory of a bag of florins which accompanied
this same Luigi on his disappearance one fine day came to my mind. I
had not however seen the man for three years, but he was apparently of
those who do not forget faces. As it turned out, however, he had seen
me very recently without my knowing it.

"It is a pleasure to think I am not forgotten, and in a way,
Excellency, you have paid your footing." The rascal was alluding to my
stolen florins. "To think," he continued, "that you should have joined
us! But I suppose it was the dice, and, to be sure, the rubies were
worth ten thousand. You should have realised at once and vanished; but
experience will come, and mayhap another chance. I saw the trial,
Excellency, and we do not war with the profession, least of all with a
new recruit. You are free to pass, or, if you prefer it, to accept our
hospitality for a while."

I declined the proffered invitation with a brief thanks, and went on,
my blood boiling at the impertinence of the scoundrel who so
familiarly claimed me as one of his own kind. Innocent myself, I was
tasting to the dregs all the humiliation of the guilty, and it was
only perhaps a lucky chance that saved me from the rope, or the still
worse fate of the galleys at Pisa. Turn which way I would, my own
country would never be a country for me again. I was cut out from my
order, my infamy would be known wherever my name was heard, and my
associates would henceforth have to be the vilest of mankind. Had I
committed a murder, or even an act of treachery in war, that could
have been wiped out; but to have sunk to the condition of a common
thief, this was ignominy beyond repair. I therefore resolved, as soon
as I pushed matters to a conclusion with D'Entrangues, that I should
leave Italy and seek a new life in the strange countries beyond the
seas which Messer Columbus, the navigator, had discovered, and there,
my past being unknown, perhaps find a future of peace or the rest
which fears no disturbing from this world.

My original idea had been to seek the dominions of the Turk, but they
were too close to my shame; even the New World was hardly far enough.
So I planned, and so doubtless would I have acted had not
circumstances worked to give me back what I lost, as I thought
hopelessly, and to bring home to my mind the certainty of that tender
mercy of God, of which we on earth take too little account.

It was late in the evening before I halted and ate my dinner under an
overhanging rock, sheltered from the north wind by a clump of pines.
When I finished I rolled myself up in my cloak, and fatigue, together
with a good conscience, combined to send me to a sleep as sound as it
was refreshing. I was up before the sun and continued my way,
determined to reach Florence by evening. I took no particular notice
of the view, where I could see to my right the Prato Magno, and to my
left all the valley of the Greve; but kept my eyes before me, intent
on my thoughts.

At length, when passing Impruneta, where the black virgin is, Florence
came in sight. There was a slight haze which prevented me from seeing
as clearly as I could wish; but I plainly made out the houses on the
banks of the Arno, Arnolfo's Tower, the Palace of the Signory, the
Cathedral, the Bargello, and the unfinished Pitti Palace, whilst
beyond rose the convent-topped hill of Senario, where the Servites
have their monastery.

As I looked, there was little of admiration in my heart, although the
scene was fair enough; but I could give no mind to anything beyond the
fact that I was at last within measurable distance of D'Entrangues,
and that in a few hours my hand was like to be at his throat.

With these thoughts there somehow mingled up the face of Madame, and
the scene of our last meeting. I put this aside, however, with a
strong hand, and determined to think no more of her, although no such
recollection could be anything but pleasant and sweet. Until I met her
I had managed well enough without womankind, and for the future I
would leave bright eyes alone. Yet I knew I was the better man for
holding the privilege of her friendship. However, she had passed out
of my life, and across the seas I would have other things to think of
than the memory of my platonic friendship with Doris D'Entrangues.

It was close upon sunset when I entered the San Piero Gate, and found
myself in Florence, and in a difficulty at the same time, in
consequence of my wearing a sword. I luckily, however, remembered that
La Palisse, the French leader, was then in the city, and explaining
that I was from the army at Arezzo with a message to him, inquired
particularly his abode, which I was told was in the palace of the
exiled Medici in the Via Larga. It so happened that La Palisse was in
constant communication with Tremouille, and this and my confident
bearing imposed upon the guards. I supplemented my argument with a
couple of crowns, and they let me pass without further parley. It will
thus be seen that whatever the regulations may have been, they were
easily broken. Indeed I found later on that they were, even at that
time, a dead letter, and that the zeal of the guards was merely
inspired by the prospect of making something out of me, which they did
on this occasion. I knew Florence fairly well, having been there under
circumstances very different to the present; but as I hurried along
the crowded streets, I began to feel I was somewhat uncertain as to
whither the roads led. I judged it prudent, however, not to make
inquiries, but kept my eyes on the sharp look-out for an hostel
suitable to my purse, which was diminishing at a fearful rate. I
stopped for a while at a street stall to satisfy my hunger with a cake
of wheat and a glass of milk, a wholesome but unpalatable beverage,
and entered into conversation with the stall-keeper. It came out that
I was in a difficulty about a lodging, and the man very civilly told
me where one could be procured, and added to his kindness, seeing I
was apparently a stranger to the place, by directing his son, a small
bare-legged urchin, to guide me to the house, which he said was an old
palace of the Albizzi, that had passed into the hands of the banker
Nobili, and was rented out in tenements.

Heaven only knows through what bye-lanes and alleys the imp led me,
chattering like an ape the whilst; but at last we reached the house
which lay in the street di Pucci. An arrangement was soon entered into
with the person in charge, and I paid in advance for two weeks the
small rent asked for the room I took. I selected the room, because
there was in it some furniture, such as a bed, a table and a couple of
chairs, which, I was informed with some emphasis, had been seized from
the last tenant in default of rent. I sent the boy away rejoicing, and
was surprised to find that the housekeeper did not depart as well; but
this worthy soon made it clear to me that a further payment was
requisite on account of the furniture. I was too tired to haggle, so
paid him the three broad pieces he wanted, and bid him get me some
candles. He returned after a little delay with what I needed, and I
may say at once that under a rough exterior I found this man, with all
his faults, was capable on occasions of displaying true kindliness of
heart.

I would like to pay him this tribute, for subsequently, as will be
seen, we had a grave difference of opinion which ended in disaster for
him. At the time this happened I could not but condemn him strongly,
for in order to further a plot in which he was engaged, he tried to
induce me to crime, and when, by a happy chance, I was able to
frustrate his design, joined in an attempt to murder me. I fully
believe, however, now that I can look back on affairs coolly, that, in
common with others of his age, he thought it no wrong to adopt any
means to further a political plot, whilst in the every day observances
of life he displayed, in an underhand manner, much virtue.

When he was gone I sat down to count my money, and found I had but ten
crowns in all the world. With prudence however this would last some
time. Still it was gall and wormwood to me to have to weigh each item
of my disbursement. It would be necessary as well to renew my attire,
which, with the exception of the leather buff coat, was almost ruined
by the hard wear it had been exposed to on my journey. I sat down to
rest, but now that I had reached Florence a reaction set in, and
assailed by a full sense of my position I gave way to despair. In a
little time I became more composed; but it was impossible to keep
still with the fire in my heart, and I sallied into the street, taking
care to note landmarks, so as to find my way back. In this manner I
must have gone for about a quarter of a mile, when I was brought to a
standstill by the coming of a gay party down the street, in the
direction opposite to mine, all marching by the light of many torches,
to the music of a band. The musicians led the procession, which was
flanked on each side by a number of flambeaux bearers, and a retinue
of servants, all bearing swords despite the law.

The merry-makers walked in pairs, each lady resting her fingers
on her cavalier's arm, and all laughing and talking with the utmost
good-humour. I was compelled to draw myself to the wall to admit of
their passing, and whilst thus giving them the road, the light fell
brightly on me, and I became an object of alarm to some of the fair,
who gave utterance to pretty little exclamations of terror, with the
result that I came in for haughty looks from the gallants.

In the middle of the promenaders were two ladies, who, apparently not
having partners of the opposite sex, had linked themselves together,
and the attention of the taller of these was bestowed upon me for a
moment, and it was not flattering. As she wore a mask, I could see
little of her face beyond the half contemptuous look in her eyes which
were dark as night, and a short curl of the upper lip, with which she
no doubt intended to express the same sentiment as her glance. I
waited calmly until the whole party passed on, admiring the grace of
the demoiselle who had favoured me with her scornful survey. I watched
them until they turned off into another street, and then went on, idly
wondering who the people were, and more especially the dark-eyed lady.

The street behind me was in gloom, a few yards in front of me a lamp
hanging from a wall threw a dim radiance; beyond that there was gloom
again. Through the darkness before me I heard the sound of hurrying
feet, coming in my direction, and almost before I was aware of it, the
newcomer and I fell into the circle of the light, and met face to
face.

It was D'Entrangues! He knew me as if by instinct.

"You!" he exclaimed, and on the instant his sword was out. I said
nothing. I was blind, mad with anger. My whole soul hungered for his
life as I thrust at him, and in doing so slipped my foot over the edge
of the narrow pavement and fell heavily. He was on me at once;
something flashed in his left hand, and I felt a stinging sensation
all over my side. He did not wait to see the result of his blow.
Perhaps he made too sure, and springing over me, ran into the darkness
beyond. I scrambled up at once, and made an attempt to follow; but my
brain began to reel, and I was compelled to lean against the wall to
support myself.

The clash of steel had however aroused some of the inhabitants, and
hearing footsteps approaching I pulled myself together with an effort,
and making across the road, turned back to my lodging. Here again I
felt too weak to proceed without help, and sank to the ground, knowing
I was bleeding freely. By this time two or three men came up, and
after surveying the spot under the street-lamp, crossed over in my
direction. The rays of a lantern held by one of them discovered me,
and they hastened up. I begged the favour of their assistance to my
abode, saying I had been stabbed, and this the worthy citizens readily
accorded; and not content with that, when I reached my room, gave me
all help in dressing my injury. The dagger, which I had to extract,
had gone through the folds of my cloak, but was turned by a steel
buckle on the strap of my buff coat, and had cut through the coat and
down my side, inflicting an ugly flesh wound. This in itself was not
dangerous; but I had lost much blood, and when the kind citizens had
gone, in making an attempt to rise from my chair, I had only just time
to reach my bed before I became unconscious.




                             CHAPTER VI.

                            BERNABO CECI.


I cannot say for what time I lay thus bereft of sense; but on coming
to myself I saw the candle in my room was all but spent, and the wick
flaring in a long flame. I looked to see if my wound had broken out
a-bleeding afresh, and was glad to find this was not the case, and
that the bandages were in their position. The small effort, however,
nearly set me off once more. The room swam round, the bright flame of
the candle dwindled down to a little star, no bigger than a pin point,
and then began slowly to increase in size as the faintness passed off,
and I was able to see clearly again. Any attempt to move gave me
agony, and, closing my eyes, I lay still. I heard the candle expire
with a splutter, and leave me in darkness. Then I began to get
light-headed, and unable to control my thoughts. Somehow my mind
travelled back to the days of my childhood, and the figure of the only
living relative I can remember, my father, came before me, standing
just as he was wont to stand, when about to give me a lesson in the
exercise of the sword, and repeating a warning he never ceased to din
into my ears. "Learning," he said, "is of little use to a gentleman.
You need not know more of books than a Savelli should, but in
horsemanship, and in the use of the sword----" he finished with a
gesture more expressive than words. And truly old Ercole di Savelli
was never a bookworm, although he ended a stormy life in his bed.

He was the son of that Baptista di Savelli, who was ruined with the
Prefetti di Vico, and other noble houses during the time of Eugene IV.
Such estates as Baptista had, were transferred with the person of his
sister Olympia, who married into the Chigi, to that family, and with
them the custodianship of the Conclaves. Baptista di Savelli left his
son nothing but a few acres. The latter tried to woo Fortune in the
Spanish war, but did not obtain her favours. He returned to Italy, and
poor as Job though he was, hesitated not to marry for love, and engage
in a lawsuit with Amilcar Chigi. What between the one and the other,
Ercole was ruined in a hand turn. His wife died in giving birth to me,
and disgusted with the world, he retired to a small estate near Colza
in the Bergamasque. There he devoted himself to a pastoral life, and
to bringing me up as a soldier, until, one fine day, having contracted
a fever, he received absolution and died like a gentleman and a
Christian.

I followed the profession for which I was intended, joining the levy
of the Duke of Urbino, and sharing in all the ups and downs of the
times, until Fortune did me a good turn at Fornovo. Subsequently
things went well with me, and although I had to mortgage my narrow
lands, to raise and provide equipment for the men, with whom I joined
Tremouille, I was in expectation of a full reward, when I was so
suddenly stricken down.

Thinking of these things in the dark, tormented by a devouring thirst,
which I was unable to quench, haunted by the impression that my last
hour was come, and that I should die here like a dog, without even the
last rites of the church, I fell into a frenzy, and began to shout
aloud, and rave as in a delirium. D'Entrangues came before me, wearing
a smile of triumph, and I strove impotently to reach. Then the whole
room seemed to be full of my enemy, from every corner I could see the
white face, the red hair, and the smile of successful malice. The
figures, each one exactly like the other, floated over me, stood by my
side, sometimes brought their faces within an inch of mine, until I
imagined I felt a flame-like breath beating on me. Finally they
flitted backwards and forwards, rapidly and more rapidly, until there
was nothing but a mass of moving shadow around me, which gradually
resolved itself again into a single form. I strove to reach for my
sword to strike at it, but my arms were paralysed. So through the
livelong night the phantom stood at the foot of my bed, until the
white morning came in at my window, and I fell into a sleep.

When I awoke, I found the old intendant of the building bending over
me. The fever had abated but the thirst still remained. "Water," I
gasped through my parched lips, and he gave me to drink.

To cut a long story short, I arranged with this man for such
attendance as I should want, and to do him justice Ceci--for that was
his name--performed his part of the contract, getting me my food,
attending to the dressing of my wound, to which he applied a most
soothing salve, and such other offices a helpless person must expect.
He did not trouble me much with his presence during the earlier part
of my illness, but came as occasion required him, and, when he had
performed his work, left me to my reflections.

I may note here that I never again saw the people who helped me when I
was wounded. Having assisted me to my lodging, and aided me to dress
my hurt, as I have said, they departed, and apparently gave me no
further thought. This I am persuaded was not due to unkindly feeling,
but to prudence, and a wish to avoid being mixed up in an affair such
as mine appeared to be; for the times were such, that it was better
for a man's head to be unknown to the Magnifici Signori of Florence.

Subsequently, when things changed with me, I caused public cry to be
made, requesting the worthy citizens to come forward; but my attempt
was of no avail, beyond producing a half-dozen or so of rascal
impostors, who swore to helping me, under circumstances that never
occurred, on the off chance of hitting a nail on the head, and
obtaining a reward. But this was long after my illness, and the block
in the Bargello may have, since that time, been a resting place for
the heads of the good Samaritans for all I can say. I took a longer
time in mending than I thought I should, for an inflammation set in,
the fever came back, and when that was passed I recovered strength but
slowly. It was at this time, however, that I discovered the advantage
of reading, having up to now borne only too well in mind my father's
saying on that subject.

I began with Poliziano's Orfeo, a poor affair, and then procured, to
my delight, a translation of Plutarch's Lives. Both these books were
obtained with the greatest difficulty, so old Ceci, the attendant
said, from the library of a great Florentine noble, in which a nephew
of his was employed in copying manuscripts, and the old man charged me
an entire double florin for the use of the latter alone; an
expenditure I grudged at first; but which I would have willingly paid
twice over before I finished the volume. I inquired the name of the
nobleman; but Ceci was not inclined to tell me, and I gathered that
the owner was probably unaware that his books were taking an airing,
and enabling his library-scribe to turn a dishonest penny. On the
binding of the Plutarch was pricked a coat-of-arms, a cross azure on a
field argent, with four nails azure; but I could not, for the life of
me, remember this device, although I had served in every part of Italy
except Rome. Finally it came to my mind, that the bearings, no doubt,
belonged to some merchant prince of Florence, and would therefore be
unlikely to see anything more of fighting than a street riot, and
therefore I dismissed the subject.

I did not neglect, whilst lying in enforced idleness, to take such
steps as I could to discover the whereabouts of D'Entrangues, and
specially instructed old Ceci to make inquiries of the followers of La
Palisse. He brought me news in a couple of days, that the Frenchman
had left Florence a fortnight ago, and it was understood he was going
to join the army of Cesare Borgia, that cursed serpent who was lifting
his head so high in the Romagna. This was ill news indeed, for I had
been lying helpless for close upon a month; but I was on the mend at
last, and resolved to follow him as soon as I had strength to travel.

During my illness I had frequently thought of madame, and with the
thoughts of her, there mingled recollections of the dark eyes of the
lady who had looked at me through her mask, on the night I was
stabbed. I could think of madame in no way but with a kindly feeling;
but strange as it may seem, any recollection of the other made my
heart beat, and I would have given much even to have obtained another
glance at her. In the meantime, however, my first business was to try
and replenish my funds, for my supplies were almost exhausted by the
drain made upon them during my illness.

Old Ceci, the intendant, had in his way formed a sort of attachment
for me, and now that I was better, generally spent an hour or so with
me daily in converse. One day I let out some hint of my condition, and
Ceci, after a little beating about the bush, approached me with a
proposal.

"Signore," he said, "there are those in Florence who would like things
changed. We want our Medici back; but we want also a few good swords,
and I could tell you of a way to fill your purse."

"Say on," I replied, and the old man having first bound me to secrecy,
informed me that certain notables in Florence wanted a good sword or
two, to rid them of a great political opponent, in order to pave the
way for the return of the Medici; and without mentioning names in any
way, which, he said, would be given to me later, proposed that I
should undertake the task.

I realised at once that his suggestion meant nothing short of
assassination, and saw that my old acquaintance was apparently up to
the ears in a political plot. My first idea was to spurn the
suggestion with indignation; but reflecting that it would be better to
know more, and by this means, if possible, save a man from being
murdered in cold blood; I affected to treat the matter seriously, and
replied that I was as yet unfit for active work; but that as soon as I
was better I would discuss the subject again. He then departed.

Perhaps the time will come when the minds of men will shrink with
horror from crime, even for the sake of a good object, and however
much I loathed the proposal made to me, I could not but recollect that
the noblest names of Milan were concerned in the Olgiati conspiracy,
and that a Pontiff had supported the Pazzi attempt on the Medici. This
being so, there was excuse for Ceci and his leaders, whoever they
were; but my whole soul was wrath in me at the thought that I had been
deemed capable of doing the business of a common bravo, and if it were
not for the reason stated above, I would have flung the old
conspirator out of the room. This insult also had to go down
indirectly to D'Entrangues, and as I grew better, my desire to settle
with him rose to fever-heat. The question, however, was my resources.
Turn which way I would, there seemed to be no way of replenishing
them. The idea presented itself to me to join the Borgia, who with all
his faults was ever ready to take a long sword into his pay. But the
man was so great a monster of iniquity, that, even to gratify my
vengeance, I could not bring myself to accept the gold of St.
Valentino.

There were others to whom I could apply, such as Malatesta or De la
Rovere; but amongst them I would be known, and the burden of my shame
too great to bear. After all, it would perhaps be better to seek to
fill my purse in Florence, and let my vengeance sleep for a while. It
would be all the sweeter when it came.

With these ideas in my head, I was sitting one afternoon at the little
window of my room, putting a finishing touch to the edge of the
dagger, which D'Entrangues had left with, or rather in me, and
congratulating myself that the blade was not a poisoned one, when I
heard, as from a distance a hum of voices, which gradually swelled
into a great roar, and above this the clanging of a bell with a
peculiar discordant note. Almost at the same time old Ceci bustled
into my room, evidently in a state of high excitement, and called
out--

"Messer Donati--Messer Donati! It is to be war--war!"

I should add here that I had judged it prudent to take another name on
entering Florence, and adopted the first one that struck me, although
I afterwards thought that Donati was not quite the name to win favour
with the Florentines, amongst whom the memory of Messer Corso was
still green, although so many years had passed since he was done with.
Whether I let my own name out or not during my illness I am unable to
say; at any rate, Ceci never gave me any such hint. The news the old
man brought was not unexpected by me, yet I caught a touch of his
excitement and answered--

"War--where? Tell me."

"It is this way, signore; Naples has risen, and the Great Captain has
driven D'Aubigny out of Calabria, all the Romagna has gone from Cesare
as that," he waved his hand as if throwing a feather in the air.

"The Holy Father has cast his interdict on Florence, and Pisa is
burning the Val di Nievole."

"The devil!" I exclaimed, "this is more than I thought. The interdict
is bad, Messer Ceci."

He grinned as he answered, "Bad for the Pope. Medici or no Medici we
will not have a priest interfering in Florence."

"I see," I said, "you are Florentine first, and conspirator
afterwards; but how do the French stand?"

"With us, for we pay. It is said, however, that things are uncertain
with them, that Monsignore d'Amboise, who is now Cardinal of Rouen,
has gone to Rome, and that Tremouille is awaiting the king."

"The king! Louis is at Maçon."

"Yes, Louis himself, and the Lord knows how many barons besides, with
pedigrees as long as their swords, who will eat up our corn, and
pillage our vineyards from the Alps to the Adriatic. But I came here
to ask, signore, if you will come with me to see. It is hurry and make
haste for I cannot wait. The Carroccio has left St. John's."

I had almost recovered my full strength, and was accustomed to walk
out daily at dusk in order to avoid observation, whilst at the same
time I could by doing so exercise my muscles; yet at first I felt
inclined to decline Ceci's invitation, alleging weakness as my excuse,
for my anger was still warm against him on account of his proposals to
me. Reflecting, however, that if I offended him, it would probably
fatally injure any prospect I had of saving the person whom the
conspirators intended to kill, I thought it best to affect a
friendliness I did not feel, and changing my mind in regard to
accompanying him, slipped on my sword, and followed the old man
downstairs. We hastened as fast as we could to the great square. The
people were swarming out of the houses, and the streets were full of a
hurrying throng, all directing their steps to the point, whence we
could hear the bellowing of the mob, echoed with answering cheers by
those making towards the place of assembly. Around us there was a
murmur like that of millions of bees, as men, women, and children,
jostled their way to the Palace of the Signory. My companion, who
stopped every now and again to open his jaws as wide as the mouth of a
saddle-bag, and give forth a yell, hustled along at a great pace, and
I made after him with scarcely less speed.

By good fortune, and a considerable amount of pushing, we made our way
through the press, which appeared to me to be composed entirely of
elbows, and at last reached the market-place. Here the crowd behind us
slowly drove us forwards, and finally gave us the advantage of a good
position. The square was lined with men-at-arms and stout citizens,
with boar-spears in their hands.

All at once there went up a shout louder than ever, the crowd swayed
backwards and forwards, then opened out, and admitted the Carroccio or
war-car in Florence. It was painted red, and drawn by oxen housed in
red trappings. The great beasts had dragged the car slowly from the
chapel of St. John's, where it stood in times of peace, and laboured
along under its weight. From the car itself projected two poles on
which hung the banner of the Commonwealth, a red giglio on a white
field. Immediately behind this came another car, bearing the
Martinello or war-bell, which was incessantly clanging out its angry
notes. It was to ring now for a full month, without ceasing.

Around the cars were the principal nobles of the city, and the oxen
being guided to the "bankrupt stone," were there unharnessed. Pietro
Soderini, the brother of his eminence of Volterra, who was then
Gonfaloniere for life, raised his hand. In a moment there was silence,
and the vast audience listened to the brief oration that fell from the
lips of their chief magistrate. He painted in stirring words the
dangers of the times; he called to the people to forget party hatreds
in the face of the common crisis; he appealed to their past, and then
concluded: "Therefore," said he, "for the safety of the State, have we
to whom that safety is entrusted put our hope in God, and our hands to
the sword. Citizens, we give to our enemies, to Rome, and to Spain,
war, red war--and God defend the right!" With that, he drew off his
glove of mail and flung it on the pavement, where it fell with a
sudden crash.

The silence of the crowd continued for a little, and then, from forty
thousand throats rang out cheer after cheer, as the sturdy citizens
roared out their approval of the gage thrown down.

In the midst of all this some partisan of the Medici, hysterically
excited, raised a shout of _Palle_! _Palle!_

"Blood of St. John!" exclaimed Ceci, "who is that fool? He will die."

It was the well-known cry of the exiled Medici, and it drove the crowd
to madness. Instantly there was an answering yell.

"_Popolo_! _Popolo!_ Death to tyrants!" I cannot tell what happened
exactly; but in the distance, I saw a man being tossed and torn by the
mob. For a moment, his white face rose above the sea of heads, with
all the despair in it that the face of a drowning man has, when it
rises for the last time above the waves; then it sank back, and
something mangled and shapeless was flung out into the piazza, where
it lay very still. I stood awestruck by this vengeance.

"Yet the Medici _will_ come back, signore!"

Ceci whispered this in my ear, as he stood with his hand on my
shoulder.




                             CHAPTER VII.

                      THE GARDEN OF ST. MICHAEL.


On our way back Ceci was somehow separated from me, whether by
accident or design, I cannot say. I did not quite regret this, as I
had made up my mind to see as little as possible of him for the
future, thinking he had repaid himself for his kindness, by the
proposals he had made to me. Indeed, I may say I never sought his
society, although, until he showed his hand, his visits and
conversation gave me some pleasure, for notwithstanding his position,
he was a well-informed man, who, in the earlier part of his life, must
have seen better days, and perhaps hoped to see them again, if his
plot succeeded. The words he had let drop, to the effect that the
Medici would come back, had given me a hint as to what that plot was.
It was evident that my old friend was an active member of the Bigi, or
Grey Party in Florence, that were then working secretly for the
restoration of Lorenzo's sons. It seemed clear too, that the attempt
to be made, was to be directed against some very eminent member of the
State--perhaps the Gonfaloniere himself, and I began to wonder if it
was not my duty to lay the information I had before the Signory. I
could not, however, reconcile this with my promise of silence, and
therefore my tongue was tied. Still I could not sit tamely by, and see
a man murdered in cold blood, and I decided therefore, to remain in
Florence somehow, and if possible avert the crime, although it would
interfere, no doubt, with my own business. But one cannot always be
thinking of one's self. Perhaps also, though not quite conscious of it
then, I had some idea of again meeting the unknown lady of the gala
procession, in whom, in spite of myself, I felt I was taking too great
an interest.

During the night I had but little sleep, for the affair of the mad
partisan of the Medici, and the declaration of war, had roused the
citizens to fever heat, and all night long, crowds thronged the
streets, their hoarse shouts of _Popolo_! _Popolo!_ mingling with the
incessant clanging of the war-bell, which itself was loud enough to
wake the dead. The next day, however, I resolved to take the bull by
the horns, and with a view to fill my purse, determined to present
myself before La Palisse, and offer him my sword. I sallied out,
therefore, finding the streets fairly empty, the all-night indignation
meeting of the Florentines having wearied them a little. Still,
however, there were knots of people here and there, all in a more or
less excited condition. I was in no particular hurry, and taking a
lesson from the snail, went at a leisurely pace, and eventually
reached the headquarters of La Palisse, which were in the Medicean
palace, in the Via Larga. The courtyard and entrance-hall were full of
soldiers, and evidently active preparations for the campaign were in
progress, for there was a continuous stream of people going in and
out. No one took any notice of me, and holding my cap in one hand, and
straightening the feather on it with the fingers of the other, I
advanced unquestioned through the crowded rooms. In this manner I
proceeded until I came to a gallery, on one flank of which there was a
series of windows overlooking the street; at the end of the gallery
hung a purple curtain, covering, as it happened, an open door. On the
curtain itself was embroidered a crimson shield, bearing the _palle_
of the Medici. Before this I was stopped by a young officer, who asked
me my business, and I replied it was with La Palisse himself.

"Impossible!" he replied; "you cannot see the General."

"Why not, signore?"

"Tush, man! You look old enough to understand that orders are orders."

"What is it, De Brienne?" a sharp voice called out from within. The
officer lifted the curtain, and went inside. I was determined to gain
an interview with the great man, and had therefore said my business
was of importance. The leanness of my purse is my excuse for the
subterfuge, which I subsequently regretted, as will be seen further
on. Shortly after De Brienne came out. "Well, messer--messer----"

"Donati," I said.

"Well, Donati, the General will see you. You may enter."

I accordingly did so, and found myself in the presence of a short,
thick-set man, seated at a small table, on which was spread a map,
over which he was looking intently. In a corner of the room lay his
helmet and sword, and he himself was in half-mail, wearing a Milanese
corselet, on which was emblazoned the red dragon of his house. As his
head was bent over the paper, I could not at first make out his
features, and remained standing patiently. Suddenly he lifted his
face, and looked at me with a quick "Well--your business, sir?"

I was accustomed to strange sights, but for the moment was startled,
so horribly disfigured was the man. The sight of one eye was
completely gone, and half his face looked as if a red-hot gridiron had
been pressed against it. The other eye was intact, and twinkled
ferociously under its bushy grey eyebrow. I recovered myself quickly,
and made my request in as few words as possible. He became enraged as
I finished. "Bah!" he said, "I thought your business was of
importance. I can do nothing for you, my list is full. You have gained
admission to me under a pretence--go!" and he resumed his study of the
map. I would have urged the matter, but all my pride was aroused at
his words, and so, with a short good-day, I turned on my heel and
walked out. Passing through the gallery, I saw De Brienne, leaning
against an open window, talking to another young officer. They both
looked at me, and burst into a loud laugh. At any other time I might
have treated this with contempt, but I was sore all over at my
reception, and approaching the two said, "You seem amused,
gentlemen--it is not well to laugh at distress."

They stopped their laughter, staring haughtily at me, and De Brienne
said, "Your way, signore, lies before you," and he pointed down the
corridor.

"Perhaps the Signor de Brienne would care to accompany me--unless,"
and I looked him steadily in the face.

"Unless what?" De Brienne flushed angrily.

At this moment we heard a hasty footstep on the marble floor, and La
Palisse advanced. "Still here," he said to me, "did I not tell you to
begone?"

"My business is with the Signor de Brienne," I replied stiffly, for my
blood was hot within me.

"I am quite prepared," began De Brienne, but the free-captain
interposed.

"Not in the least. I cannot allow my officers to go fighting with
every _croque-mort_, who comes here with a long sword and a lying
story. Look at him, De Brienne--every inch a bravo! Harkee, Donati!
Begone at once. Not another word, or by God, I will have you hanged
from the nearest window!"

It did not require me to carry my perception in my right hand, to be
aware that La Palisse was capable of fulfilling his threat, and
although I was inclined to draw on him there and then, I knew what the
ultimate results would be. So swallowing my pride as best I could, and
regretting the ill-humour which had subjected me to this insult, I
stalked into the street.

I made my way to my ordinary, and sat there to cool, which took some
time. I was able to see, that the rebuff I received was due in great
part to my own mismanagement; also that there was no hope for me from
La Palisse, and that my steps must turn elsewhere if I wished my purse
to show a full-fed appearance. I dined sparingly, drinking but a half
measure of Chianti, which I mixed with water, and it made but a thin
fluid. When I finished my slender repast, there was nothing left but
to kill time. It was useless to go back to my lodging; for want of
funds had compelled me to discontinue, until better times, my newly
acquired habit of reading, and Ceci, despite the kindness he had shown
me, was precise in the exaction of payment for offices performed by
him. No more indeed could be expected from a huckstering mind such as
his, inherited no doubt from a line of bargaining citizens, whose
hearts were in their bales of wool. So I strolled towards the garden
of St. Michael, passing on the way the piazzi, where there were still
numbers assembled, and wondering at the implacable hatred of the
Florentines towards their noblest blood, a hatred they carried so far,
as to build the walls of the Palace of the Signory obliquely, rather
than they should touch the spot where the Uberti once dwelt. And this
set me reflecting on the unreasoning stupidity of the _canaille_, in
their enmity towards gentle blood. Perhaps I was a little influenced
in these thoughts, from the fact that the Uberti were connected by
marriage with the Savelli, a daughter of Maso degli Uberti having
wedded that Baptista di Savelli who upheld by force of arms his right
to attend the Conclave of Cardinals. It was sad to think that of the
Uberti not one was left, and of the Savelli--I alone. I will not
include the Chigi, for they come through the female line, and although
Amilcar Chigi, the son of my father's old enemy, subsequently made
advances of friendship towards me, I felt bound to explain to him that
I was the head of the house, despite the broad lands his father got
with his mother Olympia, by an unjust decree of the Chamber of Lies.
This, however, is a family affair, which does not concern the
narration in hand. Having reached the garden, I sat myself to rest on
a stone seat, set against a wall overhung by a large tree. At the
further end of the walk were two ladies in earnest conversation. Their
backs were to me at first, but on arriving at the end of the walk,
they turned slowly round, and came towards me. As they approached, I
was almost sure they were the two I had seen in the gala procession,
and my doubts were soon at rest, for, on passing, they glanced at me
with idle curiosity, and in a moment I recognised them by their air
and gait. On this occasion they wore no masks, and I saw they were
both young and passing fair. The face of the shorter of the two, whose
figure had a matronly cast, was set in a mass of light hair, and
looked brimful of good-humour. The other, who, in marked contrast to
her companion, had dark hair and dark eyes, possessed a countenance of
exceeding beauty, marred perhaps by its expression of pride. Be that
as it may, my blood began to tingle as I saw her, and an indefinite
thought of what might have been rose into my mind. When they had gone
a few yards, the one, whom I took to be a married woman, said
something to her friend, and glanced over her shoulder; but the other
appeared to reprove the remark, increasing as she did so the pride of
her carriage. I wondered to myself that two ladies, should be out
unattended, in so sequestered a spot, at a time too when the city was
so full of excitement, and watched them as they turned the corner of
the walk, and went out of sight beyond the trees. I began in a useless
manner to speculate who they were, and to weave together a little
romance in my heart, when I was startled by a shriek, and the next
moment the fair-haired lady came running round the corner of the road,
crying for help. It was not fifty yards, and in less time than I take
to write this, I whipped out my sword, and was hurrying to the spot. I
saw, when I reached, the taller lady struggling in the arms of an
ill-looking ruffian. She called out on my coming, and the man,
loosening his hold, was about to make off, when, unwilling to soil my
sword with the blood of a low-born scoundrel, I struck at him with my
fist, and the cross handle of the sword clenched in my hand, inflicted
an ugly gash on his forehead, besides bringing him down. I stood with
the point of my sword over him, and the affrighted women behind me.

"Hold, signore!" he cried, "enough! I yield--what! Would you draw on a
friend?"

"A friend?" I said in astonishment, as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Yes, Signor di Savelli, were you on Monte San Michele now, you would
sing a different tune."

"Piero Luigi, then it is you," I said; "well, scoundrel, I am not on
Monte San Michele, but you are here, and will shortly be before Messer
the Gonfaloniere, unless you restore at once what you have doubtless
robbed from these ladies and beg their pardon. Stop! if you attempt to
move, I will spit you like a lark."

"I have taken nothing," he said, "let me go; I am punished enough."

"That is true, sir," said one of the ladies, "and we pray you let the
man go."

"Not till he has begged your pardon," I replied.

Luigi did as he was bid, and humbly apologised; but as he left, he
discharged a Parthian shot: "Ah, ladies! I sought but a kiss. I am but
a poor thief--a crow--but the Signor di Savelli is no better, though
he flies with hawk's wings."

I took no notice of the remark; and, lifting my cap, begged permission
to see the ladies to a place of safety.

"We thank you for your kindness, sir," said the shorter and elder of
the two, "but I see our servants approaching, and we will not
therefore trespass on you. Believe me, however, we are grateful--my
cousin and I."

Even as she spoke her lackeys came up, and one of them, in an alarmed
tone, asked what was the matter, and turned on me fiercely.

"Be quiet, Gian," said the lady who had just spoken, "it is we who
have to thank Signor di Savelli for rescuing us."

"Your pardon, signore; but we heard the ladies cry out, and seeing you
here----"

"Where you should have been," I interrupted, "you lag too far behind
your mistress."

The dark-haired girl, who had up to now not spoken, but, with her face
very pale, was playing with a bracelet on her wrist, now looked up.

"I think we had better get back, we will not trouble this--this
gentleman further. He has already done too much for us."

She dropped me a proud little curtsey, and turned away, but her
friend frankly held out her hand. "Believe me, Signor di Savelli--I
heard you so called--my cousin Angiola and I are both very grateful.
She is a good deal upset by what has happened, and I speak for her.
My husband," she went on hurriedly, "has much influence, and if any
word----"

She stopped a little helplessly, and seeing she had observed my
appearance, and anxious to end the affair, I cut in--

"Madam, I did nothing but drive off a cur--you thank me too much. Good
day!"

I stood cap in hand until they turned the elbow of the walk, and then
retraced my steps to my lodging. As I went back, I could not help
railing at my luck. I was enabled to do a service, which, for no
reason I could assign, I would rather have done to this particular
woman than any other--a service which should have made her look kindly
at me, and yet by a cruel stroke she was made to think me nothing else
but a thief, for Luigi's charge was definite, and it was clear I knew
him. My name was also known to her, and perhaps the rest of my story,
as it was understood by the public, would be told to her, and then,
adieu to my little romance, if it was not adieu already. Then again
what business had I to have any such thoughts? I had yet to learn that
these things come unbidden, and when they come, take no denial.
Thinking in this way as I walked on, I was surprised to find I had
reached the old Albizzi Palace. This building, like all the other
houses of the nobles of Florence, was fortified with braccia or
towers, joined to each other by bridges. These towers formed refuges
during interurban wars, and stood many a siege from the people. The
Albizzi Palace had four such braccia, but the two towards the Ultrarno
quarter had been half demolished in some forgotten riot, and never
restored. The others were however intact, although the bridge between
them had long since given way. It was in one of these that I had my
abode, and reaching it about sundown, began to slowly ascend the dark
stairs which led to my chamber. Occasionally I stopped and rested, and
it was during one of these rests that I looked up to the landing above
me. It was still in light; for the setting sun shone through a giglio
shaped window in the western wall. As I glanced up, a figure suddenly
appeared at the head of the stairway, and leaning one hand on the
balustrade, peered down into the dim light below it. I recognised the
extraordinary dress at once, and a moment's survey of the face assured
me it was my host of the hovel, he who had so strangely disappeared
with the girl, when I fought with Brico at Perugia.

"A good day to you, friend!" I called out, "and well met."

"Who calls? Who is there?" he answered.

"One moment, let me climb up these stairs," and I made my way to the
landing, and held out my hand.

He took it in silence, but his grip was warm.

"Signore," he said after a moment, "I do not know your name; but
whoever you are, Mathew Corte owes you much, and will some day show
himself grateful."

"My name," I said, "for the present is Donati, and as for gratitude
there is no need to speak of it."

As he mentioned his name, I remembered that there was a madman so
called, who had come into notoriety years ago, by asserting that he
had discovered the secret of prolonging life to a hundred and twenty
years. He had, I heard, written a book in which this was fully
described, and presented it to the Cibo pope, with the inscription,
_videbis dies Petri et ultra_. Long after, I heard Cardinal Bembo
tell, in his witty way, how this same Corte presented his book to
three successive popes, ending with Innocent of Genoa, adding that he
took care on each occasion to substitute a new title-page and
dedication. "But," the cardinal was wont to add, "it is against the
canon, for our Lord the Pope to go in any matter, even in life, beyond
the Holy Apostle, and therefore, no doubt, the worthy doctor's
prescriptions were not followed. Such are the sacrifices the church
has to make."

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Some days."

"And we have never met!"

"Ah! The place is like a rabbit-warren. There are hundreds here. But
it is odd that I have never seen you."

"Not so very odd when I come to think of it," and I looked down at my
shabby attire. "It is generally late when I go out."

He held out one leg, clothed in its fantastic dress.

"I too am on the rocks," and he laughed bitterly, "and feed with the
goats."

Wishing to change the subject, I inquired about the girl. He turned
away to the window, and when he looked back the man's eyes were full
of tears.

"Would you care to see?" he asked, with a shake in his voice.

I bowed gravely, and he conducted me upstairs, fully two flights
beyond my room, and then stopped on a small landing. Through the
half-open door that faced us, a little dog came out, and looked
wistfully at Corte. He stooped to stroke it, and then rising, passed
into the room. When he had gone beyond the door, he looked back at me,
saying "enter."

I did so with gentle footsteps, and he pointed to a bed in the corner
of the room, on which was the figure of a woman, lying so still and
motionless, that she might have been an image of wax. Her plentiful
brown hair was spread over the pillow, and out of this frame, the
pinched white face, with all its traces of past beauty, looked out in
a pitiful silence. One thin hand was turned palm downwards on the
coverlet, and, as we stood, the fingers began to work convulsively.

Corte bent over her forehead and touched it with his lips. "Little
one," he said, "do you sleep?"

The girl opened her sightless eyes, and a faint smile, that lightened
her face, making it wondrous beautiful, passed over her countenance.

"Not yet." She spoke so low I could hardly catch the words, "but I
shall sleep soon."

I knew what she meant, for in her face was already that look which
comes to those who are going away. Corte was however unable to judge.
"She is better," he said, "I will give her some more wine--all that
she needs is strength--my little one." With this he turned to a
cupboard, and opening it, took thenceforth a bottle of wine; with
shaking fingers he tried to fill a glass; but the bottle was empty.

"I forgot," he said, and looked hopelessly around him. There was that
in the man's face which made me read it as an open book.

"Stay here," I whispered, "I will be back soon--very soon."

He looked at me in a dazed sort of manner, but I waited for no reply,
and, slipping out of the room, ran as fast as I could downstairs, and
through the darkening streets to the nearest inn. Calling the landlord
I asked him what was his best wine.

"My best wine, signore! All my wines are good. There is Chianti from
our own Tuscan grape, Lacryma Christi from Naples, Barolo from
Piedmont, Roman Orvieto and White Vernaccia of the same brand that the
Cardinal Ippolite d'Este----"

"Fool," I interrupted, "answer my question. What is your best wine?
Have you any of the wines of France?"

"Wines of France!" he exclaimed, "_Corpo di Bacco!_ Does not your
excellency know that La Palisse and his French cut-throats have been
here for a month? Think you there is a bottle of red Roussilon or
Armagnac left in Florence? There lie, however, in my cellar, two
flagons of Burgundy."

"Fetch one at once--run, man!" and I flung him a crown.

After a short delay, which seemed ages to me, messer the padrone
reappeared with the flagon of Burgundy under his arm, and seizing it
from him, I ran back to the Albizzi Palace, and hurried up the stairs
to the room occupied by Corte. Although I had been away barely half an
hour, that was sufficient time to make a change for the worse in the
sick girl, and I became aware that the end had begun. We tried to
force a little of the wine between her lips; but she could not
swallow, and now instead of lying still, kept tossing her head from
side to side. Corte was undone. He could do nothing but stand at the
head of the bed, in mute despair, as he watched the parting soul sob
its way out.

I went towards him: "Shall I send the intendant for a priest?"

If ever words changed the countenance of a man, mine did. His eyes
fairly blazed with anger, and he hissed out, "No, signore--this is a
priest's work--pray if you like, but no priest comes here."

I had, as all other men have, frequently called upon God, sometimes in
idle blasphemy; but never on an occasion so serious as this. Pray if I
liked! I had forgotten what real prayer was. Impelled by a power I
could not resist, I knelt down and tried to form some words to reach
the Most High. But they would not come, I could only feel them, and I
rose again and took my stand by the dying girl.

She began to talk now in a rambling manner, and with that strength
which comes at the point of death from somewhere; her voice was clear,
but with a metallic ring. It is not for me to repeat the last words of
one who is now with her God; but I gathered from them a story of
trusting love, of infamous wrong and dastardly crime. And Corte shook
like a branch in the wind, as the words came thick and fast from the
lips of his dying child. After a while she became still once again. So
still that we thought she had passed away; but she revived on a
sudden, and called out:

"Father--I cannot see--I am blind--stoop down and let me whisper."

"I am here, little one--close--quite close to you."

"Tell him--I--forgive. You must forgive too--promise."

Corte pressed his lips to her damp forehead, but spoke no word.

"It is bright again--they are calling me--mother! Hold me up--I cannot
breathe."

Corte sank on his knees with his head between his hands, and passing
my arm round the poor creature I lifted her up, and the spirit
passed. In the room there was now a silence which was broken by a
heart-rending sob from Corte. He staggered to his feet with despair on
his face.

"She said forgive!" he exclaimed. "Man, you have seen an angel die.
This is the work of a priest, of a pontiff, of him who calls himself
Vicar of Christ! Go now, and leave me with my dead."

I took his hand, and pressing it, turned to the door. As I closed it
behind me, I saw Corte bending over the still face of his child, and
the little dog, throwing up its head, howled piteously.




                            CHAPTER VIII.

                             TEMPTATION.


I had looked upon death before; I had seen the plague strike down its
victims in an hour; I had been in the hell of a sacked town, when men,
women, and children, were given to the sword. On the breach at Arx
Sismundea, dead, dying and wounded, were piled breast high, when we
stormed our way, through the fog of battle, into Malatesta's
stronghold. Stricken down at San Miniato, I saw, in the dim night, the
death hunters at their fearful trade, and heard the dull blows of
their daggers, as they murdered some helpless wretch, sometimes for
the prize of a tag of gold lace, sometimes for the sheer pleasure of
slaughter. Lying unable to move, by good luck concealed in a hollow,
amidst grass which stood a yard high, I saw a man killed not ten feet
from me. He rose to his elbow as the fiends approached, and called for
water. But it was not water he got. How he struggled! He cried for
mercy, and I can still see the wretches as they held him down. A
foul-looking hag placed her knees on his chest, she looked towards the
sky for a moment, as if invoking a spirit to a sacrifice, and the
moonlight shone on a face that was hardly human. Then she stooped
down, and with a relentless hand, plunged the knife she held into her
victim's throat. But all this, which should have hardened my heart,
did not affect me as the scene I had just quitted. After all, what I
had passed through was done when the blood was high with excitement.
Here, however, was another thing. I had watched the end of a being
beautiful and pure, who was born to adorn life, and yet what was her
story? Fallen into the hands of an incarnate devil, outraged, and then
cast forth blinded, to die like a reptile! It was too horrible! Surely
God must have slept whilst this was done. Surely the after life ought
to be to her, in an inverse proportion to her sufferings on earth. But
why any such infliction on one so helpless? Mystery of mysteries, and
I cannot solve it. And yet she was able to forgive. At the last she
could condone. What were my wrongs to those she had endured? After all
I had health, strength, and the world was wide. Why waste my time in
running after the morbid shadow of revenge? If I got it, would it
satisfy? Would it heal my wounds! Thinking in this way, I called to
mind a sermon of the Prior of St. Mark's--I heard when last in
Florence. I came in the suite of Paolo Vitelli ag Citta del Castello,
and at the time Savonarola had left the Duomo, and was preaching at
St. Mark's. His subject was forgiveness, and his text, "Vengeance is
mine, saith the Lord," came back to me with a vivid force. I rose from
my seat and paced the room, my whole soul was on the cross; I had all
but resolved to forego my scheme of revenge, when I heard a knock at
the door. At first I did not answer, but it was repeated.

"Come in," I cried, and Ceci entered. In the state in which I was in,
I had half a mind to bid him begone there and then, and only
controlled myself with an effort. I could see however that, in his
way, he had formed a friendly feeling towards me, and remembering my
plans, forced myself to greet him with civility, and offering him a
seat began the conversation.

"That was a strange finish to the Gonfaloniere's speech," I said, in
allusion to the death of the man at the hands of the mob.

"He was a fool, and deserved to die."

"Do you know his name?"

Ceci hesitated for a moment, and I saw he was lying when he said "No."

"I gather," I added, "that you are of the Bigi, the party that favours
the return of the Medici."

"Signore, I spoke words in my excitement that may well be buried. An
old tongue like mine should have known to be still; but it is not that
I have come to speak of. Do you know we have a death in the house?"

"That would be no new thing to you."

"True," he said, stroking his white beard, "they die here like rats in
their holes."

"I suppose so; but as a matter of fact I did know there was a death,
and a very sad one. I know Mathew Corte, but how have you found out so
soon?"

"It is simple. I came back but a few minutes ago, and although it was
late, thought I might call for the rent of the room Corte occupies, as
he has not paid anything as yet. When I came in, Corte simply pointed
to the body of his daughter, that was all the reply I got. She was
very ill when she came; I wonder indeed she lived so long. Of course I
did not press him, and if it is a loss, Messer Nobili is rich enough
to bear this. But it is dreadful the way these people owe."

I winced a little, thinking of my own diminished purse, and Ceci
continued: "I thought I would come and see you as I went down. It is
on my way. The body must be removed to-morrow."

"You will find some difficulty in persuading him to give it a
Christian burial."

"How! Is he a heretic, or a pagan--if so!"

"I did not say that. I believe the man to be mad."

"I will see him to-morrow," said Ceci. "I think he will yield to
reason. Poor child! She might have been saved."

"Saved!"

"Yes, when they first came, I begged Corte to let me call the Doctor
Maffeo. He would not however listen to the idea. Then I told him what
to do, being a family man, who has had children to look after. All
gone into the world now, and never even a message for Bernabo Ceci."

"I thought the case hopeless when I saw it."

"When you saw it, perhaps; but, signore, not at first. See! the sun is
not in the Lion, and medicines should have been freely given. I would
have placed the diaphragm of a sheep on her chest, had her bled, and
administered theriaca of Venice; if that failed, there is bezoar."

"Messer Ceci, you are as learned as a doctor yourself."

"I have had experience, signore," he answered, as he rose to go. "Yes,
do I not know? The life of my poor wife was saved twice by this
treatment, and on the third occasion, if it were not for the poison
which originated internally within her, as Messer Maffeo stated in a
learned discourse he read to the Academy, she would have been saved
again. A good night, Signor Donati, and peace to dreams--remember, it
should have been as I said--either theriaca or bezoar--or both
combined--a good night!"

He went out, and down the stairs, with the step of a young man, and I
marvelled at the contradictory nature, which could show the kindness
it had towards affliction, and at the same time coldly plan to remove
a fellow-creature from the world, as one removes a bud from a tree,
with a touch of the knife. But Ceci's words had also reminded me again
of Corte's need. I stood at the door listening until his footsteps
died away, and knew he was gone for the night. Then I pulled out my
purse, and looked at its contents; there were two gold crowns left,
and a few pauls. I hesitated for a little; but the need of the man
upstairs was greater than mine. Drawing off my boots so that there may
be no sound, I stole up softly, like a thief, and gained the landing
of Corte's room. The door was partly open, and I stood before it for a
short while, half afraid to enter. Plucking up heart, I crept in
gently. The dead girl lay with her hands crossed on her bosom, still
as if cut out of marble, and on her face was fixed a sad little smile.
Corte sat on a stool near the table; his head was buried between his
hands, and he had given way to silent despair. The dog lay asleep in a
corner. I meant to have proffered the gold I had with me, as a loan to
Corte; but I did not dare to address him in his grief. So placing the
coins quietly on the table in such a manner that when he raised his
head he must see them, I withdrew as noiselessly as I came, and
reached my room without attracting any attention. It was not until the
small hours of the morning that I sought my couch, for my mind kept
working on the thoughts which agitated me after witnessing the death
of Corte's daughter. At the same time, I was able to see that this
consideration of the suffering of others was of the greatest benefit
to me. It took me out of myself. It showed me that my own were not the
only sorrows in the world, and that there might yet be others who had
reached a deep of misery as far below that of Corte, as his was below
mine. This led me on to consider my own position, and I began to think
there was some mysterious power that was preventing me carrying out my
plan of reprisal against D'Entrangues. I had come to Florence red-hot
on his track. At our very first meeting he had won the hazard, and the
long illness that followed gave him chance to put a distance between
us; then my resources diminished whilst yet nothing was done; then
came the doubts as to whether I was justified in my action; and
finally, and not least, there was in me a haunting desire to see
Angiola, as I called her to myself, once again. I was pulled by
different strings. There was that I called conscience, urging me to
give up my schemes of revenge; there was the wild animal in me,
telling me to go on; there was a feeling towards a woman, which I had
honestly never experienced before, which, despite my struggles against
its apparently hopeless folly, was entirely overmastering me, until I
did not know which way to turn, and to escape from it all decided to
leave Florence at once; and then altered my mind again, when I thought
of the plot I wished to thwart, and determined to make a last effort
to do this, and, if possible, to see Angiola once more before I left.
At last I went to sleep, waking very late in the morning. So sound was
my slumber, that when I awoke I thought at first that the events of
the night were nothing more than a dream; but they soon forced
themselves on me in their reality, and the fact was emphasised, by the
sight of the odd pauls, which were now my all, lying on the table. I
gathered these up, and proceeded in search of Ceci to ask if he had
made any arrangements for the burial; but he was nowhere to be found;
and, as I could not bring myself to see Corte then, I resolved to
breakfast on fresh air, a diet which however wholesome, was, I found,
certainly not satisfying. I went to the Oricellari Gardens, which were
at that time the property of the Rucellai. Here, within the city
walls, one found a forest, and under the shade of the huge trees, a
more miserable being than myself could have spent pleasant hours, and
perhaps gained contentment of mind by observing the beauties of
nature. It was here that, after the death of Il Magnifico, the
Platonic Academy moved its sittings. But the gentlemen who composed it
discussed their philosophy with a good dinner, and even the
unfortunate who wishes to gain peace of mind in sylvan shades, should
have a full belt. This fact obtruded itself more and more strongly on
me, and I could obtain little relief by the expedient of tightening my
sword-belt by a hole or so. Therefore, in despair, I left the beauties
of nature to be so good as to look after themselves, and disbursed a
half-paul in something to eat; after which I felt able to face the
prospect of future starvation with a more serene mind. On return to my
lodging I found Ceci was not yet come back, and still thinking it
would be an intrusion to make inquiry after Corte, disposed of my time
by repairing my attire as best I might, and watching the pigeons on
the eaves of the roof opposite my window, with a little envy in my
heart at their simple happiness, and a doubt if, after all, man was so
fortunate in possessing a soul, and being cast after the image of his
Maker. If our faith is to be believed there is nothing for man but
heaven or hell, and perhaps the worst form of hell-torment would be to
be born again in the lowest form of a dumb brute, with the faculty of
fully appreciating all that the highest of mankind can. Picture to
oneself a Raphael, who has slipped into the abyss, and is sent back to
earth again, an obscene animal, with all the grasp of the beautiful he
had in life. I do not know any punishment that would be more cruel.
On the other hand, there has never appeared to me any definite
realisation of the joys of heaven. It is no doubt their vagueness that
is their charm. Be these things as they may, all speculation into the
future is useless, and I have found my comfort in a simple faith in
our religion, which has served me through this life, and will, I
trust, do the same office in the next.

Thus reflecting, I passed the day quietly, and in the afternoon Ceci
came to tell me all was ready for the burial. He gave me to understand
that Corte had listened to reason in the matter of a priest, although
I never knew what arguments he had used to effect this. The funeral
was much as other pauper burials, and when it was over we walked back
together. On our return a man accosted Ceci, who, he said, was his
nephew, and they went off together on some business. Had I only known
what I was to be indebted to this gentleman for, shortly, I should
have observed him with greater attention. As it happened I gave him
but a passing glance, catching a glimpse of a pale face, with strong,
clear-cut features, and keen, bright eyes. Corte and I were now alone,
and, respecting his grief, I said no word, nor did he speak, as we
threaded our way back. Near St. Mark's, Corte suddenly seized my hand,
raised it to his lips, and then turning, fled down a side street and
was lost to view. I attempted to follow, fearing that sorrow had
totally unhinged his mind, already a little off its balance, and that
he would come to injury. My attempt however was without avail, and I
returned home to disprove the proverb which falsely says that he who
sleeps, dines.

The next day I was again favoured with a visit from Ceci, and after
some allusion to the funeral, he once more broached the subject on
which he had sounded me before, and asked for a definite reply. I gave
it to him without hesitation.

"Messer Ceci," I said, "whatever my condition may be, you are in error
if you think I am a bravo. In short your proposal is an insult, and
you owe it to my consideration for your years that I do not fling you
out of the room. I have promised you secrecy, and therefore cannot do
as I would, and that is, lay the matter before the Signory; but I tell
you plainly that if I can I will upset your plan, and now you had
better leave me."

I had by this thrown everything into the fire; but it was not possible
to control myself longer. As for Ceci, he sat for a moment, his eyes
staring out of his head with rage, and his white beard fairly
bristling. He rose from his seat.

"So, Signor' Donati, this is your answer, is it? Look to yourself,
most noble excellency, for those I serve have a long reach. There is,
however, another thing we have to settle before I go. I shall be
obliged by your paying me the sum of three crowns for rent, and other
services due to the excellent Messer Nobili."

I was overcome with shame, for I had not the money.

"You can take this furniture," I said, "it will pay my dues."

Ceci smiled grimly.

"I do not wish to be hard on you, and you know the punishment for
debt. I will take the furniture back for two pieces, although it has
deteriorated by wear and tear to the value of a florin, and you will
still owe one piece. See, signore," and he suddenly changed his tone,
"pocket your pride, as many a better man than you has done to fill his
purse. It is but a stroke of your sword we want, and here are ten gold
crowns."

"Begone!" I cried in a rage, and starting up laid my hand on my sword.
Ceci instantly drew a dagger from his girdle and faced me with the
highest courage. We stood before each other for a second, and then
with a laugh he put back his poniard.

"I will give you time," he said. "A whole week--and now leave you to
cool. Adieu, most noble excellency!"




                             CHAPTER IX.

                          THE MARZOCCO INN.


I tried every possible means I could think of to obtain employment, to
no avail, and, in the intervals of my fruitless search for work,
haunted the streets and gardens, with the hope of obtaining another
glimpse of Angiola, but without any success. Inch by inch my resources
diminished, until they became so small that a blind beggar would have
hardly thanked me for the gift of them. I lived in constant dread of
Ceci reappearing to demand the sum I owed for my rent, but he did not
come. He was evidently giving me time, starving me out to surrender to
his terms. I used to see him as I went in and out, sitting in his
office like a spider, yet he never even lifted his head as I passed. I
hated, almost feared, going by that door. Bitterly did I regret not
having left Florence when I was able. It was now impossible to do so,
unless as a defaulter, and the weight of that paltry debt oppressed
me, as if a cannon-ball were slung around my neck. I could not leave
until I paid it, and of doing this there seemed no prospect. I had
parted with my cloak for money to buy food, but the last copper of
that was gone, and I was now penniless. For two days I had not eaten
anything but a morsel of bread, and on the morning of the third day I
rose desperate with hunger, and prepared to go any lengths to satisfy
it. I ate my self-esteem and made another attempt to see La Palisse,
but was denied admittance, and when I came back I actually hesitated
before the door of Ceci's office, and almost made up my mind to yield,
and say I would do his business for him. It required an effort, so low
had I sunk, to rouse my pride. At last it flared up, and with a cheek
hot at my weakness, I sought my chamber and there passed the day. The
pigeons that lived under the eaves opposite my window, and to whose
soft cooing I so often listened with pleasure before, now aroused
other thoughts within me. If I could only lure one within reach! But
it was impossible, and I glared at them as they fluttered and flirted
with each other, with the hungry eyes of a cat baulked of her prey. At
last I gave it up, and with a curse flung myself on my bed. Fool that
I was! Five-and-thirty years should have brought me wisdom. I had
stayed on in Florence, allowed my chances of revenge to get more
distant, in fact, reached a stage of mind when I was doubtful if I
could rightly exact vengeance, drifted into abject poverty, and worse
than that, was continually thinking of a woman, who, when I had
rendered her a service, treated me with contempt, who had no doubt
forgotten me by this time, amidst her duties, if she had any, and her
pleasures, of which I doubt not she had store. So the evening came
amidst my reflections and self-reproaches, and, it being dusk, I
decided to go forth again, and snatch a purse, if necessary, to obtain
food. As I rose, an impulse I could not control made me unfasten my
money-belt, and search if by chance there was a coin within it. Of
course there was not a brown copper, but my fingers, in running up the
belt, touched something hard, and I pulled forth, attached to its tag
of red ribbon, my cross of St. Lazare, which, it will be remembered, I
had placed therein for safety the night I was imprisoned in the Villa
Accolti. I had clean forgot it in my troubles, and now it lay in my
open palm, with the diamonds in it winking in my face. My whole frame
trembled with excitement. Here was the means of freeing myself from
debt at once, and of obtaining funds to quit Florence, nay Europe. At
the lowest computation its worth could have been no less than forty
crowns, and this at present was wealth to me. What with the effects of
the want of food, and the sudden discovery of the cross, I began to
feel weak all over, and flinging the badge on the table, sank down
into a chair before it to compose myself. The room was almost dark,
and I sat staring at the jewels and at the diamonds on it, which
sparkled through the gloom. That little trinket was linked with the
one great event of my life. All the past came vividly before my
excited brain. I was again in that desperate retreat of Charles of
France up the valley of the Taro, with the army of the League in full
cry behind us. The old boar Trevulzio commanded the rear guard,
disputed every inch of the road, and now and again stood boldly at
bay, and gave a taste of his tusks to the Duke of Bari, and the fine
gentlemen of Venice. It was at this moment that Roderigo Gonsaga made
his dash for the heights above the junction of the Ceno and the Taro.
Trevulzio saw the movement; he was powerless to help, and knew that if
it succeeded all was lost. At the time I was at his bridle hand.

"Ride for your life," he said, "and tell the king--that." He pointed
to the black line of the infantry of Spain moving towards the heights.
I was off at once, waiting no second bidding.

I found Charles mounted on Savoy, his one-eyed black charger, one of
the finest horses I have ever seen. The king grasped the situation at
a glance. He gave a sharp order, closed his vizor with a snap, and in
five minutes, a thousand lances followed him down the long slope, up
which the Spaniards were advancing. It was an absolutely silent
charge. Not a cheer went up, and the only sound was the thunder of the
horses' hoofs, and the clink of mail as we sped on after the king.
Then there was a sullen crash, and a sea of struggling men and horses.
The veteran troops of the Great Captain maintained their high
reputation, fighting like dragons to the end.

Charles, whose horse had carried him far in advance of us all, was in
great danger. His helmet had fallen or been struck off, and he was
recognised. Gonsaga, seeing all was lost, made a despairing rush at
the king with a half-dozen men at his back, and had it not been for
the way Savoy kicked and plunged, would have surely slain him. Urging
my horse to its utmost speed, I reached Charles just in time to ward
off a furious blow aimed by the Spaniard at the king, and fading full
tilt against him, brought down both horse and man. The next moment
others came up, and we were safe. Philip de Comines reproached the
king respectfully for running himself into peril; but Charles, wiping
his sword on the mane of his charger, said with a laugh:

"All is well that ends well, my Lord of Argenton; but it is thanks to
this good sword here," and he turned to me, "that our cousin of
Orleans must exercise his patience yet a little longer. Come closer,
sir."

I dismounted and approached helmet in hand. The king detached the
Cross of St. Lazare he wore, and bending from the saddle, slipped the
loop of the ribbon round my neck.

"Wear this for the sake of France," he said with a gracious smile.

And now the patience of Orleans had come to its end, and Louis XII.
was king, and of my hopes and dreams, all that remained was the cross
of the order blinking at me.

It had to go, and there was no help for it. With an effort I rose and,
thrusting the cross into my pocket, hurried into the street. My way
led to the ward of San Spirito, and it took me some little time to
reach the place where I meant to dispose of the jewel. When I reached
it, I was so overcome with weakness that I had to halt for a moment to
rest. It was during that halt, that hesitation of a minute, that my
courage came back to me, and I pulled forth the cross and held it in
my cold fingers with a heart tossed by conflicting emotions. I could
not do it. Death would be preferable. Well, I had faced death before,
and there was no reason why I should not do so again with an equal
mind. The Arno was deep enough to hold me, and God would perhaps be
kinder in the next world than in this. I placed the cross back slowly,
my honour was still white, and death that was coming would give me a
full quittance for all my troubles. I turned my back on the
pawnbroker's, and went towards the Arno; but I had miscalculated my
strength, and near Santa Felicita I felt a sudden giddiness and sank
downwards on the pavement. I struggled to rise, but the faintness
increased, and dragging myself close to the wall I leaned against it
in a sitting posture, and a kind of stupor fell upon me, through which
I still felt the intolerable pangs of hunger. In a little time I felt
better, and as I saw the flash of torches, and heard voices in
laughing conversation, I made an effort to rise, gaining my feet just
as two ladies, with their attendants, came opposite to me, and then I
staggered back again.

"Poor man! He is hurt."

"I am starving," I said in the bitterness of my agony, and the next
moment could have killed myself, for I recognised the ladies whom I
had rescued from Luigi in the Garden of St. Michael. I had my desire
and had seen her again; but how?

Madonna Angiola made a hurried search for her purse, and not finding
it, with a hasty movement tore something off a bracelet, and thrust it
into my hand. Before I could recover from my astonishment they had
gone on, and although I called after them, they did not stop. The
shame of having received charity, and from her, was all but
unbearable; but with it I felt the hand of hunger knocking at me in a
manner that would take no denial. My courage was gone, and urged by
the fierce pangs of my hunger, I resolved to utilise the gift, and
obtain some food to give me strength to die. I smile as I think of
this now. Then it was no laughing matter. I plucked myself up
sufficiently to go back to the pawnshop. Entering it, I placed the
article, which I judged to be a jewel, but which I had not even
examined, before the man in attendance, and asked for an advance
thereon.

"It is one of the gold tari of Amain," he said, poising it on his
finger, "and of full weight. Do you wish to sell it?"

"No," I replied, "I merely wish to pledge it."

"I will give you two crowns," he pushed the money to me, and with it a
receipt. I gathered these up, and staggered rather than walked to the
Marzocco Inn, which lay hard by. There were half-a-dozen people
supping there; but I had no eyes for them, all I could think of was
the pasty, the roll of white bread, and the ruby Chianti, which I
ordered. It is a common belief, that those who have not eaten food for
any length of time, are unable to do so when it is placed before them
at first. Whether I am constitutionally stronger than the generality
of men, I do not know, all I can say is, that I formed an exception to
the rule, if a true one, and demolished my supper, gaining strength
with every mouthful, and feeling my chilled blood warmer with every
drop I drank of my goblet of wine, My courage came back to me, and I
banished all thoughts of the Arno. At last I was done, and leaning
back in my seat, viewed with complacency the huge orifice I had made
in a most excellent pasty, and the whiles slowly sipped my wine. That
feeling of sleepy comfort, which attends like a good angel on a full
meal, possessed me, my sorrows had for the moment taken themselves
off, and I grieve to say I did not even bestow a thought on her, to
whose charity I was indebted practically for my life. I sat for the
moment, lapped in a dreamy comfort, forgetful of all things. I dozed
for about half an hour, and opened my eyes with my head clear again,
and my pulse beating firmly. I had, somewhat recklessly, it is true,
enjoyed a crown's worth of happiness, there was another fat crown
still in my pouch; with care it would last some days, and during that
time luck might turn. With these thoughts running in my head, I let my
eyes wander over the room. It was now somewhat late, and only the
night-birds were left. Of these, a party of five was seated at a table
a little removed from me, and were conversing in low tones. It needed
but a glance to see they were not honest men, and from the suspicious
manner in which they looked around them, I gathered they were here for
no good purpose. One of the party rested his eyes on me, and then
whispered to a companion, who was seated with his face from me. I
caught the answer, which was given in somewhat loud tones. "Even if he
does, what does it matter? Cannot a few gentlemen enjoy a glass in
peace at their ordinary? If he gives trouble we can quiet him."

Could it be? Yes, it was no other than the ancient Brico, who had, I
perceived, got out of the clutches of his friends, the catchpolls of
Montevarchi. I made certain, therefore, I would have business shortly,
and leaning back again, pretended to doze, keeping my ears very wide
open, and holding a watch on the scoundrels from the tail of my eye.

"He tarries late," said one, "perhaps your information is wrong."

"I have it from a sure hand, from the younger Ceci. Buonoccorsi and he
will both be here. The former, however, as you know, we do not want."

I almost started at these words. Was it possible that I had stumbled
on the bravos who were engaged in Ceci's plot? If so, stranger thing
never happened to me, and chance was probably throwing in my way what
otherwise I would never have been able to discover. Even as the last
speaker finished his sentence, two persons, evidently of consequence,
and a woman entered the inn, and set themselves down at a table close
to mine. The men both wore masks, but the lady did not, and let her
glance run with a free look on us all. One of her two companions, a
very stout man, put down his mask, disclosing a jolly rubicund face,
and roared out for a flagon of wine. The other, still keeping his
features covered, engaged in lively badinage with his fair friend, and
as he moved his hand slightly, I caught the flash of a valuable ring.

The five at the table all had their heads together now, and I saw the
one nearest to me stealthily draw his sword. With an apparently
careless movement I so placed my own weapon as to be at hand on the
moment. Presently Brico arose, and swaggering across the room with a
glass in his hand, deliberately stopped before the lady, and drained
it to her health. She laughed back her appreciation, and Brico called
out, "Blood of a King! Madonna, but you waste yourself with His
Corpulence there," and he jerked his hand towards the stout man, who
sat speechless, his cheeks purple with rage. "Come and join us good
fellows here," he added, and attempted to pass his arm around her
waist; but the masked stranger flashed out his rapier, and Brico
only escaped being skewered by an agile retreat. This was, however,
the signal for an instant assault, and with a shout of "A
Medici--_palle_--_palle_," those at the table rushed on the smaller
party. As they rose, I jumped up, and pushed my table with great
violence in their direction. Two of the men fell over it, and this
gave me time to draw my sword and join the weaker party. The lady
rushed out with a scream, and the stout gentleman bellowing lustily
for help followed suit, and made his exit, no attempt being made to
hinder him, the attack being solely directed against the masked man,
who with his back to the wall, and the table between himself and his
assailants, defended himself with great spirit and skill.

Slashing one of the ruffians across the face, which put him out of the
fight, I ranged alongside of the stranger, and a very pretty set-to
ensued. At this juncture the innkeeper entered with half-a-dozen
others, and kept dancing about, adjuring us to stop, but offering no
help. I made for Brico, but could not reach him, having to engage with
a better swordsman than I had met for many a day; but I saw we were
now three to two, for the ancient was more bent on executing
flourishes with his sword, and in cheering on the attack, than on real
business. My opponent was a left-handed man, so anything like a
time-thrust was out of the question. He played the usual game of
left-handed men, namely, a cut over, and disengagement in tierce, but
remising, I forced him to a straight riposte, and pinked him through
the ribs. He fell with a howl, just as my companion ran his man
through. We were now two to two, if Brico was included, but the others
waited for no more and fled, no attempt being made to stay them by the
host. The innkeeper, however, began to make a great to-do; but the
stranger thrust his purse in his hand, and lifting his mask spoke a
few words in mine host's ear. The effect was magical, and the padrone
was now all civility. We had a look at the two men who were down, the
one who was slashed across the face being nowhere to be seen. They
were both quite dead, and an ill-looking pair of corpses did they
make.

"Have these carrion removed, padrone--and beware how you say a word of
what has happened, signore," and the masked man held his hand out to
me, "I thank you heartily, and you will find I have a long memory. Do
me the favour to accompany me to my house."

I had no reason to refuse, and bowing my acknowledgments, we left the
inn.




                              CHAPTER X.

                         NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI.


As we reached the street, I expressed the hope that the lady and her
stout companion were in safety. The stranger laughed: "Oh,
Buonoccorsi, he and La Sirani are no doubt shivering in security by
this time; but let us hasten, for although we have barely more than a
couple of cross-bow shots to go, our bravos may return and have better
luck. St. John! but it was a narrow affair."

Our way led back by Santa Felicita, past the Ponte Vecchio, and at
length we came to a halt before a small side door, let into, what
seemed to me, nothing but a vast blank wall. My new friend opened this
door noiselessly, with a key he drew from his pocket, and invited me
to enter. Pleading ignorance of the way, however, I gave him the pass,
and followed him up a narrow and very dark stairway, which opened into
a long gallery, likewise in semidarkness. Up this gallery we went,
then there was another small passage, and lifting a curtain at the end
of this, we stepped past an open door into a large room, evidently a
study, for it was filled with books all but the side near the passage,
which was covered by a heavy tapestry. In the middle of the room was a
large table, littered with papers in much confusion, and eight tall
candles burning in a pair of grotesque candelabra, threw a bright but
soft light over the chamber.

"Sit you down there," said my host, pointing to a chair, "and we will
have something to drink. _Diavolo!_ You are wounded! Why did you not
say?"

I looked at my left arm, and sure enough the coat-sleeve was red, with
an enlargening patch. It was only a trifle, however, as we found on
examination; but my companion, who still kept his mask on, insisted on
bandaging it, which he did with deft fingers, and then turning to a
curiously inlaid cabinet let into the wall, brought thenceforth a
flagon of green crystal and two long-stemmed Venetian glasses.

Whilst he was thus engaged my eyes rested on a book on the table, and
I saw at a glance that it was the copy of Plutarch's Lives which Ceci
had lent me on payment, so that it was most probable that I was in the
presence of the noble, against whom the Medici plot was directed, and
in whose library the intendant's nephew was employed, partly I guessed
as a spy. My hand was on the book as my host placed the glasses on the
table, and observing the movement, he said with a smile:

"I see, Signore, you not only carry a sharp sword; but know a book as
well."

"As for books, Signore," I answered, "I know but little of them. This
one, however, I thought I had seen before."

"Indeed," he said, "that is odd, for I believe this is the only
rendering of Plutarch into Italian which is in existence. Strange,
too, as for over a week I could not find it anywhere."

"Very," I answered shortly, and my host, pouring out a glass for me,
helped himself, and settling comfortably in a chair opposite to me,
slowly removed his mask and laid it aside. I saw before me, a man in
the prime of life, of middle height and slender figure, with however a
great dignity of carriage. His head, covered with short dark hair, was
small, but well-shaped, his dark eyes sparkled with intelligence, and
a slightly aquiline nose curved over a pair of thin, sarcastic lips,
which were however now smiling at me with as much good-humour as they
could express.

"Books," he said, "are the delight of my life, without them all would
be stale. Here," and he held up a volume, "is a priceless treasure. It
is a manuscript copy of Cicero's De Gloria. I obtained it from my
friend, poor Angelo Poliziano."

"I am afraid," I said, "I could only look at it, for I have not
studied the ancients."

He laid down the book: "Of a truth, men were giants in those days--but
hark! That is too loud for a rat." At this moment we heard a distinct
rustling behind the tapestry, which hung on one side of the wall. My
host sprang up, and with his drawn rapier in his hand, lifted the
arras. I followed him; but we observed nothing but a door, which was
concealed behind the curtain. "This is a private door leading to the
corridor, and confound it--it is open. How the devil did this happen?
However, this will make things sure." He turned the key which was in
the lock, and removing it, placed it carefully aside in a drawer, and
his face was shaded a little with anxiety. This however he brushed off
like a fly, and resuming our seats, he poured out some more wine for
both of us, and said:

"Signore, now that I observe you closely, it appears to me that your
sword, good as it is, has not helped you to fill your purse."

"It was able to save your life, Messer--I know not your name," I
answered with a little heat, and rose as if to take my leave. He
laughed cheerfully, and putting his hand on my shoulder, pressed me
back into my chair.

"Sit down, signore, I meant no offence, and my name is Niccolo
Machiavelli. Will you give me yours in return?"

I was then before the Secretary of the Council of Ten, the crafty
politician who at that time held Florence in his hand, and with whose
name all Italy was full. I now understood Ceci's plot at once, but the
question was, should I give my right name? Sooner or later the
Secretary would find out, and I accordingly answered him as honestly
as possible.

"I pass under the name of Donati, your excellency, will that do?"

He leaned back reflectively. "I like confidence when I give it," he
said, "and yet perhaps it does not matter. You had no idea who I was
when you helped me?" he added with a quick look.

"Not in the slightest." I did not feel justified in adding more.

"Well, Signore Donati, I have work for which I want a brave man, and
if you care to accept it, I offer it to you."

"Your excellency, I will plainly say that I hardly know where to turn
for employment, in fact, I am in such straits that I cannot afford to
look for a hair in any egg that may fall my way; at the same time your
business must be such as I can take with honour."

"With honour of course," he smiled sarcastically, and then added, "I
suppose I can trust you?"

"You need not give me the employment, signore, if you do not think you
can trust me--and pardon me--it is getting late."

"Sit down, man, I did but try you, and you are the man I want. Where
do you lodge?"

"In the Albizzi Palace, in the street di Pucci."

"Could you leave Florence at a moment's notice?"

"It is a matter of funds."

"They will be provided."

"Then, yes."

"Enough! To-morrow a man will call on you, precisely at noontide, with
a letter. I want that letter delivered into the hands of the Cardinal
of Rouen at Rome. It is a secret matter, and if you fail in it you may
forfeit your life. If you succeed, his eminence will give you further
occupation. Do you accept?"

"Yes."

As I said this we again heard the creaking noise, and Machiavelli
jumped up as agilely as a panther, and sprung to the door behind the
arras. It was open; but no one was there.

"_Maldetto!_" he exclaimed. "Signore, there are spies in my own
house--help me to tear down this tapestry."

I did so, and in a few minutes we laid bare the side of the room, and
piled the tapestry in a heap against a bookshelf.

"That is better," Machiavelli said, "you see--the spy, whoever he is,
must have a master key. There is no use going into the passage after
him; but for the present I fancy we are safe. I must have a bolt put
on and keep a watch. To resume business however. You say you accept,
and only need funds."

"Exactly so."

He pulled from a drawer a bag, which chinked with a pleasant sound to
my ears.

"Here," he said, "are a hundred crowns. It is your fee for the task I
set you."

"It is ample."

"And now, Messer--Donati--farewell! You will always find a friend in
me. You know your way--I have left the side door open--and bear a
loose sword."

"A word, your excellency."

"Say on."

"Prom what has happened to-night, I see plainly that the plotters
against your life have friends very near you. If they failed this time
they may not fail again. One of the men who made the attack to-night I
recognised. He is called Brico, formerly an ancient, perhaps still so,
in the army of Tremouille."

"I will attend to the Signor Brico."

"Yet a little more. If your excellency's movements are known it is
probably from within your own house. I would keep an eye on your
library scribe."

"_Per Bacco!_ Signor Donati, but you know too much. I am more and more
your debtor."

"The hundred crowns have repaid me," I replied as I took my departure,
having said all I dared say of the plot without breaking my pledge of
secrecy to Ceci.

Now it happened that as I gained the corridor, I saw in the dim light
a figure retreating hastily before me; but with noiseless footsteps,
and having in mind the strange attempt to play the spy on us, I made
no doubt but that here was the culprit, and followed up. I saw the
figure turn at the end of the corridor and enter another gallery, then
another, and yet another, finally vanishing as it were against the
wall. Owing to my not knowing the way properly, and to the semi-gloom,
I was unable to follow fast enough to overtake the spy, who flitted
before me like a ghost, but in a very human hurry. When at length I
came up to the wall, I looked to see if there was a door of any kind;
but could discern nothing, and was so astonished that for a moment I
felt a little chilled, thinking that it may have been a spirit after
all. Fortifying myself, however, with the thought that if it was a
spirit, it seemed in no way anxious to meet me, I went to a closer
examination, and saw by the moonlight that I was before a door,
painted in exact imitation of the marble wall. This settled my doubts,
and putting my shoulder to it, I made a trial, with all my strength,
to force the passage, but in vain. I therefore gave up the matter, and
turned to find my way back. This was, however, easier said than done.
I could not find the gallery I wanted, and after groping about
hopelessly for a little time, thought that I had best give a shout,
which would no doubt summon some one to my aid. I was just about to
carry this into execution, when, on further reflection, it struck me
that I might be landed in other difficulties thereby, and that I might
make another try to free myself, without bringing the house about my
ears, and perhaps compromising the secretary, who had, I saw, an
active and enterprising enemy under his own roof. So I stilled my
tongue and made further exploration, with the result that I found
myself before a stairway, that led to the floor below me, and
determined to see where this would take me. Accordingly I descended as
softly as possible, and arrived in a few steps at a small landing,
covered by a carpet so thick, that I felt as if I was treading on the
softest of moss. At the end of the landing, and opposite to me, was a
half-opened door, the room inside being in light. Stepping noiselessly
up to the door I peered in, and saw a chamber furnished with the
utmost luxury, and apparently just vacated by its occupants. In a
corner of the room stood a harp, lying on a table close to a low
luxurious seat were some articles of dainty feminine embroidery; soft
silken curtains shrouded the walls, and the ceiling was painted,
apparently with some representation of the history of the house. A
white marble figure of Cupid held out at arm's length a lamp, whose
opal shade softened its bright light; and on a gilded triangle, set in
an alcove, swung a blue and scarlet macaw--a rare Eastern bird--who,
with his head tucked under his wing, slept in a position which would
be intolerable torture to any other created thing except a bird. It
was clear that I had invaded the private sitting-room of the ladies,
or lady of the household; and I was about to beat a hasty retreat,
when the screen of an inner room was swung aside, and I saw before me
my two unknowns of the Garden of St. Michael, and the giver of the
tari which had saved me from death. It was too late to go back now, as
the sound of my feet on the marble stairs would certainly reach, and
perhaps alarm them, tread I ever so softly; so I resolved to stay
where I was until they retired again, and then go back. This I judged
would be very shortly as it was late. I had not however sufficient
experience then, of the lengths to which those nocturnal confidences,
in which the fair sex indulge with each other, extend. In the meantime
I could not but admire the graceful figures before me, and especially
of her, who had given me the tari. Clad in a soft clinging robe,
clasped by a jewel at her throat, and a silver girdle round her waist,
with her pale proud features set in a mass of dark hair, she seemed to
me an embodiment of pure womanhood, and I thought how lucky the man
would be who could have such a companion to help him through life. I
guessed also that the other was the wife of Machiavelli, being aided
thereto by her statement, when I drove Luigi off, that her husband was
one who could help me much. At the same time I could not but feel some
pity in my heart for her, when I thought she was wedded to a man of a
character so contradictory as that of the Secretary, who could leave a
fair wife for the sake of indulging in low dissipation, and come back
after a narrow escape with his life, to bury himself in matters of
state, or in the perusal of the ancients. However there was no sign of
sorrow on her fair and mirthful face, as with all the teasing nature
of a kitten, she walked up to the macaw and stirred him up with her
white fingers, an attention he did not appear to relish, for he
ruffled his plume, and let forth an ear-piercing shriek.

"Heavens!" she laughed, "how that bird screams! He is almost as cross
as you, Angiola."

"Thanks," replied the other; "I do sympathise with the bird though,
for you never leave off teasing. It is enough to make a saint cross,
Marietta."

"Well, I won't tease any more," and Marietta put her hand on her
friend's shoulder. "I am sure though it was he, and I will have that
last word."

I wondered to whom the reference was made, as Angiola replied: "I
really do not care if it was; but there is a draught, and I must shut
this door."

She came up so quickly that there was no time to retreat, and in a
moment I was discovered.

She gave a little cry, and stepped back.

"Who are you, sir? How dare you----!"

I saw that the other was going to scream out, and burst forth: "Madam,
I implore you to be still. There is absolutely no danger. I have had
business with his excellency, and missed my way. Pardon the
intrusion," and I stood with my cap in my hand.

"Well, sir," said the Lady Angiola, "as you have found out that you
have missed your way, had you not better turn back?"

"Why, Angiola, it is the gentleman who rescued us in the gardens!"
called out Madonna Marietta, with a sudden recognition.

"Who looks as if he were here now, to make up for it by cutting our
throats. According to you he should have been dying of starvation at
Santa Felicita."

"Madam," I cut in, "I wish I had died of starvation rather than heard
this. I will however restore what I have received. If you can only
show me the way out of this house I shall be grateful, and I again
seek pardon for disturbing you."

"I suppose you are speaking the truth. Come, give me that candle,
Marietta."

The other handed her a candlestick, and refusing my proffer to bear
it, and with a curt request to walk in front, she directed and led me
along the interminable galleries until I recognised the corridor from
which I entered. I was again about to thank her, but she simply
pointed to the door.

"Your way lies there, sir."

I opened the door and stepped on to the stairway without another word.
In shutting the door behind me I glanced once more in her direction.
She was already on her way back, the single candle throwing its soft
light on her loose robes and graceful figure.

I made my way down the stairs, at the end realising the sensation of
suddenly finding my foot meet the ground after the last step. I
thought there was yet another and was brought up with a nasty jerk.
Stepping out softly into the street, and holding my drawn sword in my
hand, I hurried towards my abode. When I had gone about fifty paces, I
heard the sound of a door opening and shutting behind me, but thinking
it was the wind playing with the door I had left unlocked, having no
key, I took no notice, and went on; but soon became aware I was being
followed. I stopped therefore, and deliberately faced round. The
footsteps behind me instantly ceased, and I could make out through the
moonlight, the shadowy figure of a man, stooping as if to search for
something. This was of course nothing but a pretence, and I had half a
mind to go back and question him. Reflecting, however, that it would
be wiser to avoid any further adventures for the night, and that after
all it was but one man, I went on, and my pursuer did likewise, but at
a greater distance than before, until finally apparently gave the
matter up seeing I was on my guard. Crossing the square of Santa
Felicita, however, I saw some one running swiftly a little ahead of
me, and then disappear behind the shelter of the small casino of the
Medici which stood there. I felt sure it was my shadower. He had
passed me by some short cut, and was now probably intending to bring
matters to a head. Keeping well in the middle of the road I went on,
and to my surprise saw nothing, but in a short time again became
conscious that I was dogged, and dropping into an artifice quickened
my pace to a run. The sound of rapid footsteps behind me, showed that
my curious friend was doing likewise, and not to deprive him of the
exercise, I kept up the pace, until we reached the street di Pucci and
were close to my lodging. Here I faced about and ran back full speed
at my pursuer, feeling sure that the burst I had given him would try
all his speed to get away. He so little calculated on my change of
front, that he ran on about twenty yards, before realising what was
the matter. Then he turned round and was about to make off, when I
reached him, and driving him against the wall held him there, with the
point of my sword at his breast. Imagine my surprise on seeing before
me the young man with whom Ceci had gone away on our return from the
funeral of Corte's daughter. He was doubtless also the spy of the
evening, and now, with a face white with either terror or anger
crouched against the wall, holding a dagger in his hand; but any
attempt to use it would have been useless.

"Well," I said, "have you had enough of this?" and I emphasised the
question with a sharp prick.

"Mercy!" he called out, thinking his last hour come, and scrabbled on
to the pavement.

"Be off with you then!" I said, and assisted his departure with a
hearty kick as he rose. He needed no second bidding, but made off at a
good pace.

When his figure mingled up with the haze, and was lost to view, I
proceeded on my way wondering a little at the incident. I could not
help connecting it with the affair in the Secretary's room--the man I
had chased up the endless galleries of his house, and the attempt at
murder in the Marzocco Inn. Why was I followed? I could not make this
out; but thankful that I had escaped with a whole skin, climbed up the
winding stairway of the tower which led to my chamber. Carefully
shutting the door, I lit my candle, and emptied out the contents of
the bag I had received from Machiavelli on to my bed so that the coins
might make no sound.




                             CHAPTER XI.

                       THE LETTER TO D'AMBOISE.


I could have thrown my cap over the housetops, I could have shouted
for joy, as I saw the coins spread out before me. I stooped over them,
holding the candle aloft in one hand, whilst I ran the fingers of the
other through the clinking metal. There they lay! broad, shining
pieces of silver, flecked, here and again, with the mellower light of
gold. At one stroke, when my luck was apparently at its lowest ebb, it
had turned again, and was coming up in high tide. Not only this, I was
to go to Rome, the very place of all others where I was likely to meet
D'Entrangues; and I breathed an impious prayer, that good angels might
see he came to no hurt until we met, and even as I prayed the vision
of that dying woman who forgave with her last breath, came before me.
My hand shook so that I could barely hold the candle, and turning
away, I placed it on the table and went up to my window. Midnight was
long past and we were touching the morning. The only sound that broke
the stillness was the distant clang of the martinello, keeping up its
insistent beat; but the wind was from me, and the chime came softened
to my ears. Already the east was whitening, and the moon was sinking
to rest. All the old half-formed resolutions I had made, to let my
enemy's crime pass, to leave vengeance in the hands of God, came up
and fought with the fierce desire that the apparent opportunity of
meeting D'Entrangues again, had fanned into life. What had not that
man done to me? How could I forgive? We are all not framed in the same
way. A tender woman might condone what man would never pass over. Why
should I not be the instrument of God's punishment on that man?
Without Him nothing was possible, and if I succeeded in killing
D'Entrangues would it not mean that the deed had his sanction? On the
other hand, there were the words of Savonarola's text, and the
forgiveness I had seen with mine own eyes. Tossed by doubt, now
resolved, now wavering--at one time certain I was right to be my own
law, at another encompassed by a terrible fear of sin--I did what all
men have to do at some time or other: I sank down on my knees, and
wrestled with the temptation. I do not know what words of prayer I
used, or how long I was there; but I can say this, that when I rose,
my mind was at rest, and I had won a fight with myself. I would leave
D'Entrangues to the justice of God. And for my honour? I would win it
back again, not in distant lands, but here--here, where it was taken
from me, and then--what a fool I was! When my shield was white once
more, I would sheathe my sword, rebuild our old castle in the Sabine
Hills, and there, perhaps--oh! I dreamed mad things when that peace
fell upon me. But there was such a prosaic matter as sleep, and I had
work for the morrow, so I pulled myself together, and with a mind more
comfortable than for many a day, swept the coins into the bag, saw
again to the fastening of the door, and, seeking my bed, slept a
dreamful sleep until aroused by the cooing of my friends the pigeons.
It was with a very different air that I went down the stairs that
morning, and I realised, from contrast, how brave a heart a full purse
can make. I meant to have paid Ceci at once, but he was not in his
office, so I breakfasted in a leisurely manner, at the sign of the
Double Florin and then returned.

As soon as I reached the Albizzi Palace, I went straight to Ceci's
office, and found him engaged in conversation with a man. The latter
started when he saw me, and hurriedly took his departure; but not
before I recognised in him Ceci's nephew, and my shadow of last night.
He gave me no friendly look as he went out; perhaps he was sore with
the memory of the end of my boot, and I had a mind to give him the
day, but prudently held my tongue between my teeth. Ceci was looking
much disturbed and annoyed, and I laughed secretly to myself as I
thought that, after all, I had been the instrument of upsetting the
political plot to murder, in which the old conspirator had a share.

"A good day to you, Messer Ceci," I said. "I have come to settle my
account."

"It is of long standing," he replied, somewhat brusquely; but I was
not going to lose my temper, as I had things to find out.

"All the more pleasure in receiving it," and placing a couple of gold
pieces on the table, I received my quittance and change.

"Messer Ceci," I went on, "I leave Florence to-day and there has been
ill blood between us--your making entirely. I cannot forget, however,
that when I was ill you helped me much, and that in other ways you
were kind. Let us part friends--and, Messer Ceci, you are old. I would
advise you to let matters of state alone."

He looked at me, and the corners of his mouth hardened, as he said,
"Leave me and my age alone, Messer Donati. If it was not for you,
there would have been a deed done last night at which all Florence
would have rung again."

"So your precious nephew brought the news to you this morning?" I
answered with a question, hazarding a shot.

Ceci remained silent, and drawing my conclusions, I went on, "Had what
you plotted succeeded, you would have been in a fair way to taste the
arms of the rack. Even now you are not safe. You see, Ceci, I know too
much, and it would be wise to be civil."

"Not safe," and he laughed scornfully--"who says I am not safe?"

"I do--remember the Secretary has long arms."

"There are others who have longer, Messer Donati, and a dead tongue
can tell no tales."

"I take your warning," I replied, and, turning on my heel, sought my
chamber to await Machiavelli's messenger. I could not help thinking I
had been wise to force the conversation with the intendant as I had
done, and was sure, now that Ceci and the other conspirators were
aware who had spoiled their soup, they would devote a little attention
to me. It behooved me therefore to wear a loose sword for the future,
and look well into corners before I passed them. I was not sure
moreover whether I should still consider myself bound by my promise of
secrecy, now that I had been as much as told that the conspirators
were likely to include me in their plans, and turn their knives on me.
I could well see that the Secretary would not be able to retaliate by
the open process of the law, against the attack made on him,
considering the circumstances under which it took place. That he would
do so, however, under the mask, I felt sure, and he had received
sufficient warning. Whilst thus reflecting I heard the gong in the
yard below me strike twelve, and shortly after heavy steps ascended
the stairs, with the sound of much puffing and blowing. The new
arrival stopped at my landing, and knocked firmly at my door. Thinking
it best to be careful, I unsheathed my sword, and letting down the
bolt, stepped back a pace before I called out, "Come in." The door
opened, and in walked my stout friend, who had retreated so rapidly
from the bravos at the Marzocco.

"Messer Donati?" he said with an inquiring look.

"The same," I bowed, and offered him a chair.

"The devil!" he exclaimed, sinking into it, "but it is like an ascent
to heaven for a sinner to reach you," and he mopped his face with a
large handkerchief, "that curmudgeon downstairs, the intendant, flatly
refused to inform me where you were, until I mentioned I came from the
Secretary."

"You mentioned that!"

"Yes--or _diavolo!_--how was I to find you? Let me tell you, sir, your
consequence was much increased thereby," he puffed rather than spoke.

"I do not doubt it," and I marvelled at Machiavelli having selected
this garrulous fool to be the bearer of his letter.

Subsequently I discovered that the Secretary did this deliberately, in
order, if complications arose, to be able to deny that he had any hand
in a transaction, in which an obscure soldier like myself, and a
notorious old scamp like Buonoccorsi had borne part. In fact he very
often adopted an artifice such as this, namely first sending public
despatches solemnly by a known official of state, and following them
up at once by a secret letter, which either confirmed them, or put
quite a different complexion on their meaning; taking care to choose
his messengers in such a manner that he would have nothing to fear
from failure of theirs.

"I have come with a letter for you," Buonoccorsi continued, and
pulling from a breast pocket a sealed but unaddressed packet, he
handed it to me. "His excellency," he said, "tells me you know what to
do with this."

"I do," I gave answer, and examining the seals carefully, put the
letter in the pocket of a vest, which I wore under my buff-coat.

"Then that is done," he replied, "and now, signore, have you anything
to drink--my throat is like a limekiln?"

"I am sorry I have not, but if you will accompany me to the Marzocco."

"The Marzocco! Blood of St. John! No more Marzoccos for me," he burst
in, as the red went out of his cheek at the very thought of last
night's affair. "Man alive! if Florence only knew what happened last
night, the whole place would be in an uproar. It was lucky for
the Secretary that you came to his aid, as I had to protect La
Sirani--ladies first, you know--and could not help his excellency in
any way."

"I see," I replied.

"Oh!" he went on, "there were three others in the street, but
_presto!_ I disarmed one, pinked another, and the third would have met
a like fate, had not La Sirani hung on my arm in her fright, so he
made off. I would have pursued, but, hampered with the lady, what
could I do?"

"And is not Florence to know what happened last night?" I asked.

He winked his eye, and replied--

"Between you and me, Messer Donati, I think not. You see the Secretary
has a fair wife, and they say Madonna Marietta possesses a tongue as
well as beauty. Apart from this, you must be aware, as a man of the
world----"

"Quite so," and I rose with a smile, "but you must allow me to see
that you cool that lime-kiln of yours. I am only sorry I must ask you
to come a little way with me."

"Oh! I would go a long way for a can, Signor Donati, and will drink
one gladly to your health."

So saying he got up, and we went down and out into the street. I took
him to my ordinary, "The Double Florin," and he took a long time in
quenching his thirst. When at last he had done, he wished me good day,
and we parted, not deeming it desirable to be seen too much together
in the streets, and besides I had much to do to get off by the
evening. I made up my mind to recover the gold tari I had pledged, and
after that to buy a horse and quit Florence at once. The tari itself I
should have liked to have returned, as I had promised, or rather said
in my anger last night that I would; but I could see no way of doing
this without attracting too much attention. On my way to the
pawnbroker's I kept my eyes well open, and caught a glimpse of the
library scribe, walking on the other side of the road, engaged in
conversation with a man, who, despite his common dress, had an air of
rank. The latter parted from Ceci's nephew almost as soon as I saw
them, and the scribe kept on in my direction. I saw he was again
following me, and regretted the mercy I had shown last night,
resolving, if opportunity afforded again, to quiet his curiosity for
some time to come. I duly redeemed the tari, somewhat to the surprise
of the pawnbroker, whose pledges did not as a rule pass so swiftly
back into the hands of their rightful owners. On coming out of the
shop, my follower was nowhere to be seen at first; but he soon
appeared, always keeping on the opposite side of the road. I resolved
not to go back to my lodging, but to quit Florence the moment I had
secured my horse. It was necessary however to provide some change of
attire. I did not intend to substitute a steel corslet for my
buff-coat, having a mind to fight my way back to fortune with no
defence but that over my heart, and contented myself with purchasing a
light steel helmet, a pair of stout riding-boots, a cloak, and some
other articles which could go into a small valise, capable of being
fastened on to the back of a saddle. These I left at the vendor's,
promising to call for them in an hour or so, and hurried towards the
horse market, my shadow still keeping behind me, in his accustomed
place. Opposite the Baptistry I heard, to my surprise, some one
shouting my name, and looking in that direction, saw a man running
across the pavement towards me. I recognised at once one of my lances,
Jacopo Jacopi, a Lucchese, whom I had every reason to believe devoted
to me. He had served with me at Fornovo and after; and although he
subsequently left me for a little time, on my joining the Venetian
fleet against the Turks, he returned to my banner once more, when it
was spread on firm ground, and had always proved a devoted follower.
He came now to me with joy on his face, shouting out, "Ah, excellency!
It is I, who am a glad man to see you."

"Jacopi," I exclaimed, "but my name is no longer Savelli. It is Donati
now--and what do you here?"

He looked a trifle embarrassed, as he replied, "I am seeking
service--I left the army when your excellency left."

Knowing the man to be a stout soldier, I decided on the instant what
to do.

"See here," I said, "I have no time to lose. Will you follow me once
more? I am bound to Rome on an urgent affair, and leave to-day."

"Will a dog sniff at a bone? Will a cat pass by cream? Will an ass
turn up his nose at a carrot? I will follow to the devil, let alone
Rome, excellency, and at once if you will."

"Have you a horse?"

"Nothing, signore, but an arquebus and my sword, which I have at my
lodging."

"Then come with me, we must buy two horses, and leave at once."

"I am ready, your worship," and taking his place a little behind me we
hurried on.

"We will have a hard task to get at Rome, now that the whole country
is up, signore," said Jacopo as we walked along.

"I have thought of that," I answered, "I propose to go by Leghorn, and
taking ship there, proceed to Rome by sea."

Jacopo gave such a groan at this, that I turned round in surprise, and
became at once aware that my shadower had crossed the road, and come
so close up to us that he must have overheard every word of our
conversation. This was most annoying, and a disaster of which the
future consequences might be most serious. I determined however to be
rid of him for the rest of my stay in Florence at any rate, and
addressed him sharply--

"Signore, I seem to have excited much curiosity in you. May I ask what
it is you want?"

He stood for a moment, at a loss for reply, and then said, "The road
is as free to me as to you."

"I admit that," I said; "but I object to your stopping to listen to my
conversation, and therefore will be obliged by your passing on, unless
you want a more severe punishment than you received last night."

He turned pale with anger, and slipped his hand into his vest; but as
suddenly pulled it out again, and without another word hurried past
us.

"Mark that man, Jacopo;" I said, "wherever he is, there is danger for
us."

"Your excellency has only to say the word," and Jacopo put his hand to
his belt.

"Not so, my friend. Florence is not a safe place for a man to use his
dagger in broad daylight, unless covered by the cloak of a great man.
Besides it is not to my taste. Merely keep your eyes open, and if you
see him anywhere, tell me at once."

"It shall be so," he answered; "but who would inquire about a mere
citizen like that?"

"Never mind, Jacopo; rest assured I know what I am about, and now tell
me some news of the army."

"The duke is in full march on Perugia, and means to drive Cesare
thence. The whole country is awake, as you know. The general, Ives
d'Alegres, is come on a mission to Florence."

"Ives d'Alegres here!"

"Yes, excellency, and the Lord of Bayard has hurried to Rome."

"Then this means something that I cannot follow."

"Nor can I explain, excellency."

"And tell me, has the Duchesse de la Tremouille gone back to France?"

"Yes, by sea from Leghorn, with a great train of ladies, just before
war was declared again. It is said she has gone to the court of the
king at Maçon, and the escort was commanded by the Count Carlo
Visconti."

"Do you know any who went with her?"

"Nearly all the ladies who were at Arezzo, for the duke, it is said,
would have none of them, now that war was begun again."

I had to come to the question direct, "Was Madame d'Entrangues in the
train of the duchess?"

"I am sure of that, excellency. I was with them as far as Siena, when
I took my leave."

So she had gone, and I felt a relief at the news. Once in France, she
would be safe with her family, and I was honestly glad she was out of
the dangers of the time.

We now reached the horse market, and with some search discovered two
likely-looking animals, whose price was within the measure of my
purse. I could not afford to pick and choose to any great extent, but
for forty crowns became the owner--after a little trial, which showed
they were as sound as I could see--of two nags, one a bay, and the
other a russet, with an off foot white above the pastern, an unlucky
colour, and the white marking denoted devilty. But he was a
shrewd-looking beast, and I kept him for myself, giving the bay to
Jacopo. Having paid on the spot for these, together with the necessary
saddlery, we rode to the shop where I had left my purchases, and
collected them. It was here that the idea struck me that there was an
opportunity to keep my word, and return her gift to Madonna Angiola;
therefore asking messer the shopkeeper for sealing-wax and some
parchment, which he willingly supplied on a small payment, I carefully
folded up the tari, and sealed up the packet. Taking it in my hand, I
went out to Jacopo, who was holding the horses, and said--

"See here, Jacopo. Take this packet to the house of the secretary
Machiavelli. It lies in the ward San Spirito, near Santa Felicita, and
cannot be missed. Deliver it into the hands of the Lady Angiola, say
nothing, and come away. There is no reply needed, you follow?"

"Excellency."

"Right. Then after doing this you may dine, collect your arms, and
meet me in an hour and a-half at the San Frediano Gate. And you might
as well bring a feed for the horses with you. Stay, here are two
crowns."

"It shall be done, your worship. I know the Secretary's house, and the
rest is simple."

He mounted his horse, and trotted off; and reflecting that a chaffinch
in a cage is better than a mavis in a bush, and that I might as well
dine now whilst I had the chance, I swung myself into the saddle, and
proceeded at a smart pace towards the Double Florin.

I had to cross the piazza of the Signory on my way there, and whilst
doing so came face to face with a riding party. It was composed of
several ladies and gentlemen, and amongst them was Machiavelli, who
glanced at me with a friendly twinkle in his eye, and gave me an
imperceptible nod of approval. Almost immediately behind him was old
Ives d'Alegres, riding with a bolt upright seat, and making himself
agreeable, in his bear-like manner, to the Lady Angiola, who rode
beside him. There was no avoiding them, and yielding to a sudden
impulse I saluted as they came up. A look of contempt spread over the
features of the general, who made no response, and Madonna Angiola
kept her eyes fixed before her, as if she had seen nothing. They
passed by in a moment, leaving me speechless with anger, for owing to
my failure to preserve a disguise, I had allowed my beard to grow
again, and D'Alegres without doubt recognised me. There was some
excuse perhaps for him; but none, I could think of, for her, and to
add to my chagrin, I thought that Jacopo would probably waste hours in
awaiting her return. I let my horse out to a hand gallop,
notwithstanding the pavement, and luckily doing no injury to any of
the passers-by or to him, pulled up in a few minutes at the door of my
ordinary. Here, although I tried to eat, I was so angry that I could
only trifle with my food, and raging within myself, I drank a full
measure of wine, swallowed such morsels as I could, and went to see
after my horse. By my directions he had a light feed, and was being
rubbed down. As provision against accidents, I purchased a bottle of
Chianti, together with a roast fowl and a loaf of white bread, and
these I placed in my saddle-bags. Then, seeing to the saddling of the
horse myself, I exchanged my velvet cap for the steel helmet, and
drawing my sword-belt in by a hole, sprang into the saddle, and went
on at a leisurely pace towards the San Frediano Gate. There was still
plenty of time, so I made no hurry, and indeed, when I reached the
gate, the gong there boomed out five o'clock, leaving a half-hour
still to spare before Jacopo was due. I pulled up therefore at the
side of the road, and dismounting, led my horse up and down. It was
whilst thus engaged, that I noticed a priest, mounted on a smart cob,
trotting in the direction of the gate, and knowing that a misfortune
and a friar are seldom apart, I observed him narrowly as he passed. He
drew his cowl, however, over his face, so that I could make nothing of
him; but on reaching the gate he stopped to ask some questions of the
sentry there, and the man, in raising his hand to salute, slightly
startled the horse, which threw back its head. This sudden movement
made the hood the rider wore fall back a little, but it was enough to
enable me to see it was the library scribe, old Ceci's nephew; and I
augured no good from this, resolving nevertheless to be on my guard
more than ever. The pretended priest received an answer to his
inquiry, and giving his benediction, in true sacerdotal manner, rode
off at a pace that showed his seat on the library stool had not
interfered with his seat in the saddle. It was now fully the half
hour, and yet Jacopo did not come. I waited until the gong struck six,
and was just about to ride off, leaving a message with the guard, when
I saw him approaching.

"Make haste," I cried as I mounted, "you are late."

"Pardon, excellency! But the lady was not there. I had to wait a full
hour before she came back from riding, and the General d'Alegres was
with her."

"Did you give the packet?"

"I did, excellency. I rode up, asked who the Lady Angiola was, and
presented the packet, saying it was from the Cavaliere di Savelli, my
master."

"Oh, glorious fool! Did I not tell you my name was Donati? Did I not
tell you to say nothing, but merely give the packet into the lady's
hands?"

"Body o' me, excellency! But there were so many about, my wits almost
went a wool-gathering. I gave madame the packet, however, and she took
it."

"Said anything?"

"Nothing, excellency--never a word."

There was no use crying over spilt milk, and cursing Jacopo in my
heart for a muddle-headed fool, we started off. On reaching the
sentry, I thought I might as well try and find out what the sham friar
was looking after. The man raised his hand in salute as I came up, and
flinging him a crown I bade him drink to the health of the Signory
therewith.

"Marry! I will with pleasure, and yours, too, excellency," he said, as
he pocketed the money, evidently stirred by the amount.

"Instead of mine, drink to the health of my good friend the monk, who
has just gone on. Can you tell me if he inquired for any one here?"

I relied on the simplicity of the man, and on taking him by surprise
with the question, and as it happened I hit my mark.

"In truth, excellency, the reverend father did inquire about a party
of five horsemen, who took the road to Leghorn about four o'clock this
afternoon. He doubted much if he could overtake them ere nightfall he
said, and would have to ride hard."

I poised another crown on my finger absently. "Do you know any of the
party who went ahead?"

"No, excellency; but their leader was an old man with a long white
beard, and I think I heard him addressed as Ceci. Excellency, the wine
will flow to-night--a hundred thanks."

I dropped the crown into his palm, moving him to his closing words.

"Come on, Jacopo. It grows late," and setting spurs to our horses, we
rode out at a gallop.




                             CHAPTER XII.

                            THE AMBUSCADE.


It is good to go through the air, with the strength of a brave horse
under one, to know that his strong muscles are stretching with an
enjoyment as keen as his rider's pleasure, to hear the air whistle as
one cuts through it, and to feel the blood fairly dance in the veins.
After those weary weeks of illness, of inaction, and of mental despair
I had passed through, it was as if new life was poured into me, to
know that I was once more in the saddle, with a prospect, however
faint, of regaining all I had lost. As the landscape on each side of
me melted into a green grey streak, it seemed to carry away with it my
suffering; as the true horse answered willingly to the touch of my
spur, I forgot the past, and was once again Ugo di Savelli, with a
spirit as high as the days before the black sorrow fell upon me. To
the left of the road was a broad stretch of springy turf, crossed by a
fairly wide water channel. I could not resist giving the beast a burst
over this, and followed by Jacopo, galloped over it with a free rein.
Both the horses took the jump like bucks, and carried away by the
moment, we held on, until we reached the stony and boulder-covered
incline which led to the valley of the Greve. Here the turf came to a
sudden end, in a line such as the edge of a calm sea makes in a bay,
and then began a steep descent of gravel, and loose stones, whose many
colours of grey, ochre, and brown, were splashed here and there, by
masses of short thick shrubs, which gradually increased in denseness,
until they spread before us, a sea of sombre green, that stretched to
the clear blue line of the Greve. Here on the crest of the slope I
drew bridle, thinking the horses had enough of it for the present, and
that it would be well to husband their strength. Jacopo pulled up
alongside of me, and stooping to pat the neck of his mount said--

"Excellency, the horses are in good condition; they will carry us well
to Leghorn!" He spoke the truth, for although they might have been in
better training, as the few clots of yellowy white foam, on the part
of the reins which had touched their necks showed, still we should
have been content with less, from new and practically untried
purchases, such as we had made, and I congratulated myself mentally on
our luck, for Barabbas himself would have had much to learn from the
horse-dealers of Tuscany. Thinking in this way, I replied:

"Yes, Jacopo, they seem to be a cheap forty crowns' worth, and we have
been cheated as little as possible. As you say, they should carry us
well on our journey, and we can either dispose of them at Leghorn, or
take them on to Rome if necessary."

"If I may speak, excellency, I would advise taking them with us. But
oh, signore, is that not superb?"

With an Italian's inborn love for the beautiful, he pointed to the
view around us, and although not a Florentine, I could feel why it was
that her citizens so loved the City of the Lily. The sun was setting
in opal and rose, and as we turned to give a last look behind, we saw
that this light was reflected from the west, on the great fleecy
masses of clouds that were slumbering in the pure blue of the sky, and
was again thrown back, or rather downwards, on to Florence itself,
bathing in its glow the campaniles of the churches, the grim palace of
the Signory, and the towers of the houses of the nobles. Where the
light did not fall, the shadows were in soft greys, that deepened to a
purple black, and a yellow band marked where the walls clasped the
city like a girdle. To the east, as we looked, the hills of the Prato
Magno rose in a heavy solid outline, with the jagged peaks, trying as
it were to stab at the sky; to the north, covered with a heavy pine
forest, lay Senario, shutting from sight the upper Voldarno, and the
Mugello; whilst, as we faced slowly round by our left, we saw the
silver ribbon of the Arno, and the heights of Monte Orlando, the
landscape being closed in on the west by San Miniato, over whose
cypress crowned heights the sun now hung like a soft ball of fire. As
I gazed upon this, a sadness came upon me, and my mind filled again
with the image of the woman, whom I began to realise that I loved in
spite of all; and I almost laughed in the bitterness of my heart, when
I thought that this burden of a hopeless passion was added to the
weight I already had to bear. I began to fairly despise myself for my
weakness, in that for the moment I felt inclined to turn my horse's
head and ride back to Florence. It was gall to know, that if she but
lifted her finger, I would go back like a beaten dog, and it required
me to summon all my pride to rescue myself at the time. It was such
hopeless folly, such madness, that I began to think I must be little
short of an idiot, and cursed myself with such hearty good will, that
Jacopo, who was always a trifle free with his tongue, began to let it
wag.

"If your excellency is so liberal with curses on yourself, methinks
you will have none to spare for your enemies," he said.

"True, Jacopo," I answered, "but the word enemies reminds me, that you
should keep your arquebus ready for instant use, and now I think we
had better jog on."

Jacopo's answer was to unsling his arquebus, which he rested crosswise
on his thigh, and we began to slowly descend the slope towards the
river, the loose gravel crunching under our horses' feet.

"It is loaded," said Jacopo, somewhat irrelevantly, as we came to the
banks of the stream; but I understood he was speaking of his piece.
"It is loaded, excellency," he repeated, "with three balls, which I
have had dipped in holy water, and on each of which I have cut a cross
for luck. I lay my life on it, that if discharged, it will bring down
whatever it is aimed at--saint or sinner."

"Heaven grant that it may be the sinner, Jacopo; but only take care
you are ready to discharge it when the time comes."

"Never fear, signore. Jacopo Jacopi is too old a soldier to be caught
napping," with these words we plunged into the Greve, and after much
careful stepping on the part of the horses, for the animals found
their foothold an uncertain one in the smooth round stones under the
water, we reached the opposite bank, and trotted on with the horses'
noses in a line towards San Miniato. The sun had now sunk behind the
hill, which was so full of memories for me, and although there would
be a moon later on, we had for the present to face a rapidly
increasing darkness.

"By keeping at this pace, excellency," said Jacopo as we trotted on,
"we shall reach the Resa shortly before it gets quite dark, and I
submit that we stop there to feed the horses. As your honour
commanded, I have brought a meal for them, and there was space enough
in the sack for a snack for me, which would do at a pinch for two, if
your excellency would but condescend to taste of it."

"You say well, Jacopo; but I also am an old soldier, and my
saddle-bags are full. A fasting body makes but a faint heart, whether
for man or beast--on the other bank of the Resa then, we shall call a
halt. There is a little light still, enough to increase the pace--so
onwards!"

We broke into a hand gallop, keeping one behind the other, and
following the windings of a cattle track, for I had purposely avoided
the road after receiving the information I had extracted from the
sentry at the San Frediano Gate. It was evident, that the party of
men, followed by Ceci's nephew, had left Florence to carry out some
desperate design. I had been dogged all day by this man, and now he
had galloped off in disguise to join the men who had left Florence
before he had, and amongst whom was his uncle. Ceci's words at our
last interview, and the persistent manner in which I was followed,
left me no room to doubt that I was the object of their attention, and
that it would be necessary to keep well on the alert. I did not
apprehend danger at once, but thought that if an attack were made, it
would be in the narrow valley between the low hills to the north of
Montespertoli, or at Ponte a Elsa, each of which places was
particularly suited for an ambuscade, although of course, considering
their numbers, the attempt might be made anywhere, and openly, without
very much danger. So with another hurried word of warning to Jacopo,
and holding my sword ready, I galloped along, increasing the pace as
much as possible, whenever we went past a clump of trees, and both of
us keeping as sharp a look-out as the light, or rather darkness,
permitted. We avoided the regular ford of the Resa on the
Montespertoli road, crossing higher up in the direction of Montelupo,
and here got a good wetting, for the water was deeper than we
anticipated. Had Ceci and his friends only lain in wait for us at this
point, we should have had no chance. As it happened, however, we had
taken a zig-zag route, which had either thrown them off the track
entirely, or we would meet them further on, either at one of the two
spots mentioned by me, or in some other equally convenient locality.
At any rate, we were safe for the present, and that was something to
be thankful for, even if we were in darkness. So my thoughts ran on,
as we scrambled somehow to the opposite bank of the Resa, and groped
our way up until we felt soft grass under our feet, for we had
dismounted on fording the stream, and led our horses by their bridles
up the steep left bank. Here we called a halt, determined to await the
moon, and Jacopo managed somehow to tether the horses; fastening the
halters to the stump of a tree he discovered by stumbling against, and
on which he wasted some of those curses he was so anxious for me to
reserve for my enemies. After giving the horses their feed, which they
nosed out readily enough, despite the darkness, he joined me where I
sat on the grass trying to dry, and wrapping up the lock of his
arquebus in a woollen cap, which he produced, to keep it from damp, he
took his seat beside me at my invitation.

"It is too dark to eat now, excellency," he said. "I for one, like a
light of some kind, even if it be my Lady Moon, with my meals, and we
have some little time to wait--ill-luck to it! Do you call to mind,
signore, it was just such a night as this when we lay outside the
breach at Arx Sismundea, waiting for the signal rockets?"

"I do, Jacopo."

"Ah, that was a fight! We have had nothing like it since then--not
even Fornovo--but good times are coming, excellency, and maybe we will
see them again."

"How comes it, Jacopo, that with this prospect before you, you left
the army?"

"There was trouble, excellency, big trouble at Siena, and I left to
avoid the attentions of Messer Braccio Fortebraccio, whom your worship
doubtless remembers."

I could get no further explanation from Jacopo, but afterwards found
out that he had fought with and grievously wounded a man who had
spoken disparagingly of me; and fearing lest the swift discipline
which D'Alegres maintained might overtake him, had immediately
deserted, making his way to Florence, where a lucky chance threw him
in my way. I thought it well, at this time, to explain to Jacopo, the
danger I feared of an ambuscade, and he, knowing the road as well as I
did, agreed with me in regard to the spots most likely to be chosen
for the attack.

"Would it not be prudent, excellency, to await daylight, and, keeping
out of the beaten track, avoid these gentlemen?"

"You see, Jacopo," I answered, "we have not time for all this, and
must take some risk. I mean, therefore, to go as far as we can
to-night."

"As your worship desires. It is not that I fear the danger, but I do
not like putting my head in a bag. _Buono!_ There is the moon, and I
already begin to taste my supper, after which, excellency, I have no
care which way we travel, either by broad daylight, or through the
teeth of these brigands."

As he spoke the stars began to pale, and the moon rose slowly above
the horizon. In a few minutes, so bright and clear was the light, that
one may have easily read by it, and I was glad to see, moreover, that
the shifting clouds were gone, and there was every prospect of a fine
night. It was fall-to, now, to our supper, and adding my store to my
faithful follower's supply, I sunk distinctions of rank, and we
enjoyed a meal, with a hearty contentment that had been a stranger to
me for many a day. When the last drop of wine in the bottle was
finished, and we had picked our last bone, Jacopo arose with a sigh.

"Before supper, excellency, I was ready to eat and then fight my way
through an army; now beshrew me, if a sound nap of an hour or so is
not much to my taste!"

I could not forbear smiling, but did not rise to the hint, and when
our horses were saddled again, and every buckle and strap examined
with the minutest care, we mounted and set off. As although we both
well knew the direct road to Leghorn, but were not acquainted with the
district so as to correctly pursue our way by moonlight, I decided to
run the gauntlet of the ambuscade, if there was any, and take the risk
of coming off with a whole skin, to the certainty of losing our track
by chancing short cuts, which might lead to, Heaven alone knew where!
Now that we were once more on the road, we trotted along at a fairish
pace through the silent night. The way led for some distance over an
uneven plain, covered with a multitude of white stones, that shone in
the moonlight like water. The plain gradually narrowed to where it was
intersected by a chain of low hills, and it was in crossing these that
we should have to ride through a narrow gut, and possibly meet our
danger. As we approached the hills, the short, stunted foliage that
tufted the plain, changed to a half-grown forest, in the midst of
which the road wound, and here we halted for a second, whilst Jacopo
examined his piece to see that all was aright, and gingerly blew at
the match thereon, to give the fire a little strength. This being
done, we proceeded with the greatest caution, riding one behind the
other, and going slowly, as we feared a pitfall of some kind among the
trees. Luckily there was none, and at last we got out of the immediate
presence of the forest, and into the gut, where the precipice rose
high on each side of us. All was rock and stone, but the road was
fairly even, a trap could have been seen, and going slow a mistake
here, so we clapped spurs to the horses, and sent them along, and
although momentarily expecting to see the flash of an arquebus, we
were agreeably disappointed, and got out of the passage without mishap
of any kind.

"_Animo!_ Signore, we are out of this, and to-night will not be bread
for the teeth of these brigands;" and Jacopo, whose horse had carried
him a little in advance,' drew rein to let me come up, as we rode out
of the tail of the pass.

"I hope so, but we are not out of the wood yet," and I pointed to
where a dip in the ground showed there was a small stream, and on the
opposite bank the road again led into forest land.

"And I was just going to beg your worship's leave to troll a catch,"
said Jacopo; and as he uttered these words we plashed into the shallow
stream before us. Almost at this moment my horse neighed shrilly, and
an answering neigh from the wood before us rang out into the night.

_Crack_! _Crack!_ Two red tongues of fire licked out from the darkness
of the trees, we heard the loud report of firearms, and a brace of
balls sang past, unpleasantly close to my head.

"Quick, Jacopo--follow me," and driving my spurs home, the good horse
plunged forwards, topping the bank almost on the instant that the
ambuscaders, who rushed out with a shout, reached it. The man to my
left, who was riding a white horse, pulled up in an unaccountable
manner, and making a point at the one on my sword side, I ran him
through the throat, my blade twisting him clean round in the saddle as
I dashed on. The attacking party, coming at a great pace, were carried
by their horses down the slope into the stream, and before they could
turn I had gained a fair start, and to my joy heard Jacopo swearing as
he galloped behind me.

"_Maldetto!_ I could not fire, signore--you were right in front of
me--but here goes." He turned back in his saddle, and would have let
off his piece had I not shouted out:--

"Hold! hold! till I tell you," and fortunately he heard my words, or
the chances were there would have been a miss with no opportunity of
reloading.

We gained a full hundred yards before the others recovered themselves,
coming after us with yells of anger, and I distinctly heard Ceci's
voice--

"Two hundred crowns for them, dead or alive!"

Now commenced a race for life. We had the start and meant to keep it;
but their horses were the fresher, and it became a mere question of
who could last longest. We made the pace as hot as we could, in the
hope that if we came to close quarters again some of our pursuers
would have tailed behind. For a little time things went well, and I
was beginning to think we should be able to show our friends a clean
pair of heels, when I suddenly felt my horse puffing, stretching his
neck forward and holding on to the bit, in a manner which left no
doubt to my mind that he was done. Jacopo, too, called out--

"We had better fight it out, excellency; my horse is blown."

Before giving a final answer, I slung round in the saddle to see how
the enemy were getting on. The only two who were at our heels was the
man mounted on the white horse, who had pulled aside in so strange a
manner when charging me, and another, whom I could not make out. The
rest were well behind, but riding hard. We could probably account for
these two, and turning back I shouted to Jacopo--

"All right; fight it out."

As I said this my horse stumbled and rolled clean over, killing
himself on the spot, but fortunately throwing me clear of him and
without doing any damage to me. I had just time to scramble to my
feet, when the two foremost of our pursuers were upon us.

Jacopo had been carried some yards on by the speed of his mount, but
as the men came up he turned sharp round in his saddle and fired. The
report was followed by a yell of pain, and the leading horseman fell;
the other, who bestrode the white horse, again sheering off from me.
Here he met with Jacopo, who was coming back at a gallop, and, it
seemed to me, fairly flung himself from his horse, doing this in so
clumsy a manner as to be immediately ridden over by my knave.

"Mount--mount, excellency--mount behind me!" and Jacopo steadied his
horse. But there was no time, and three of the remaining horsemen
dashed up. Two of the horses shied past the body of my animal, but the
third came boldly up, and the rider immediately engaged Jacopo. I
could not give my brave fellow any aid, for my time was fully occupied
in dealing with my own adversaries. Their horses were too fresh, or
not well in hand, by great good luck, and so they could not manage to
come at me together. Seeing this, I made a dash across the road into
the wood--it was but a few feet--and both my adversaries followed,
with the result that the horse of one of them put his foot in a rut,
and stumbling forwards unseated his rider, and the other, in aiming a
cut at me, got his sword entangled for a second in an overhanging
bough. This second was, however, enough for me to give him six inches
of cold steel, and he pulled round and rode off, dropping his sword,
and swinging from side to side in his saddle like a drunken man. The
man who had fallen from his horse was nowhere to be seen. Indeed I did
not look for him, but rushed back to the assistance of Jacopo, and
this time, having opportunity for observing, if only for a twinkling,
saw his opponent was my friend, the sham monk. He, however, had as
quick an eye, and taking in the situation, made a sudden charge at
Jacopo, and as suddenly wheeling his horse to the left, shot past him
and fled on ahead, leaving us masters of the situation.

"Are you hurt, excellency?" called out Jacopo.

"Not in the least. How are you?"

"Nothing but a scratch, excellency, which I received from his
reverence, who, for all his monkish cowl, wields a good weapon."

"Well, jump down and let us see who our friends are, but first let me
look to your wound."

"It is really nothing as I said, signore," and Jacopo sprang lightly
to earth. I did not, however, listen to him, and taking from him his
flint and steel, lighted a piece of dry wood, which I converted into a
torch. With the aid of this and the moonlight, I examined Jacopo's
wound, which after all was but slight, and had just bandaged it up
with my kerchief, when I became aware that the man whom Jacopo had
ridden over, had arisen on his hands and knees, and was crawling off
into the brushwood.

"Steady, friend," I said, and running up to him, gave him a prick with
my sword as a hint to stop. He made a little outcry, but had the good
sense to take the hint, and casting the light of the torch on his
face, I recognised my old acquaintance the ancient Brico.

"So, signore," I said, "I have again to be thankful to you."

Jacopo too came up and recognised the man at a glance.

"_Cappita!_" he burst out, "but it is the ancient Brico! Shall I beat
his brains out, excellency?"

"Mercy, most noble cavalier," exclaimed Brico, "I yield me to ransom."

"Ransom forsooth!" called out Jacopo, "such ransom as a noose will
give you. Prepare to die."

"Be quiet, Jacopo," I said, "the ancient has yielded to ransom, we
will leave him to discuss the terms with the moon. Fetch me the bridle
from my poor horse yonder, and bind this knave firmly."

Jacopo needed no second bidding, and in five minutes the ancient,
securely bound, was sitting like a trussed fowl in the middle of the
road, alternately cursing and weeping.

"Perhaps, excellency, we had better look at the other," and Jacopo
pointed to the man whom he had shot, who lay on his face. "Perchance,"
he added, "he too might turn out an old acquaintance."

We did so, and as we bent over him I saw it was Bernabo Ceci gone to
his last account. He was shot through the heart, and lay quite dead,
with a frown on his forehead, and his teeth clenched in the death
agony. I looked at him in a sad silence which Jacopo broke.

"I never knew a cross-marked bullet to fail, excellency. He is stone
dead."

"May he rest in peace," I answered; "he was a brave man, although my
enemy."

"He is still enough now, your worship--and see! There is his horse
grazing quietly. It will do excellently to replace the lost one."

He ran forward and secured the animal, whilst I had a final look at my
dead beast. His neck was broken, and there was an end of him. Whilst
Jacopo at my request was changing the saddles, I stirred up the
ancient, who had lapsed into silence, and begged the favour of his
informing me to whom I was indebted for the excitement of the night.
Brico at first would not answer, but an inch of steel removed his
sulkiness, and he told me all that I believe he knew, which was to the
effect that he and some others had been hired by a great Florentine
called Strozzi, to stop me at all hazards on my journey to Rome, and
that the party was commanded by Ceci, who was to pay them two hundred
crowns for their trouble. More he evidently did not know, and
disregarding all his entreaties to loosen him, we rode off, wishing
him a good night. Nevertheless I am afraid he suffered considerable
discomfort.

"That rascal monk," said Jacopo as we jogged along, "has gone on ahead
of us, and to-morrow, perhaps, will rouse the country in advance of
us."

"Never fear, Jacopo," I answered, "he is no monk, as I well know, and
his only chance was to escape as he did. He will hark back soon enough
to Florence. Such hawks as he do not fly far from their eyries."

And in this I proved to be right, and the library scribe was never
seen by me again.

So we kept to our way, deciding to rest by day on the banks of the
Evola, to which we came in the early morning. Here we concealed our
horses in the forest which fringed the banks, and the tireless Jacopo,
leaving me to watch the cattle, proceeded on foot to a small hamlet he
knew of, returning in about an hour with the materials for a
substantial meal, and a small skin of wine. In order not to be taken
by surprise by the neighing of our horses, which would assuredly
discover us if other riders passed, we hobbled them in a secure place,
and sought a safe retreat for ourselves, almost half way up the low
hill which bounded the river at the point where we halted. Here we
spent a restful day, the only incident being the passing of a fine
body of men-at-arms across the Evola. From the double-headed lion on
their standard I perceived they were part of the _condotta_ of
Colleoni, a devoted adherent of the Borgia, and it was fortunate that
we did not meet them or it would have gone hard with us, for I was
known personally to Colleoni and most of his officers, the free-lance
having changed sides after Fornovo, ostensibly because he said it was
against his conscience to war with the Pope; but in reality being
bribed by an immediate present of a fief in the Campagna, and the
promise of the lordship of Bergamo, which, although his son obtained
it, he himself never enjoyed. So much for the two-headed lion which
crossed our path as we lay hidden in the shade of the trees. Our
horses also being actively employed in cropping the rich turf in the
hollow where they were tethered, behaved themselves excellently, with
the result that the long line of men-at-arms passed on and out of
sight, without doing us any harm.

In this manner we continued our journey, halting by day and travelling
by night, and finally reached Leghorn in safety. Here we took passage
in a ship bound for Rome; but were compelled to wait two days in
Leghorn, as the master was not ready to sail at once. At last, all
things being arranged, we got our horses and ourselves aboard, and put
out to sea with a fair wind. The master of the ship had sailed with
Messer Columbus to the New World, and lost no time in giving us the
history of his adventures, which were in truth marvellous beyond
imagination. I listened with a smooth face, and the good man no doubt
thought that I believed his stories. In this, however, he was
mistaken, nevertheless they were diverting in the extreme. Jacopo was
overcome by the sickness of the sea, and flung himself down in a
corner on the deck of the ship from which spot nothing would induce
him to move. At every lurch he threw out a prayer which ended in a
groan, and so great was his distress, that as he afterwards stated, he
would have sold his soul to Satan for a paul, if only to obtain an
hour's relief. As for me, I was well, having had some experience of
the ocean before, when employed by the Most Serene Republic for
service against the Turk, and found contentment in the master's
stories, and in pacing up and down watching such things as came under
my view. I had plenty of opportunity for reflection on the voyage, and
came to the conclusion that on delivering my letter to the Cardinal at
Rome, I would seek out Bayard if he were there, lay my story before
him, and beseech his help to enable me to recover myself.

At last, one fine day, we reached Ostia, and there disembarked after
bidding farewell to the master, and set out on our way to Rome. Jacopo
recovered his spirits as his foot touched land, and though the
ruddiness of his cheek had paled a little, he was quite himself again
by the time we crossed the Stagno di Ostia. Finally we came in full
view of the Eternal City, and towards the afternoon, having pressed
along at a good pace, our jaded horses brought us before the Gate of
St. Paul.




                            CHAPTER XIII.

                                ROME.


As we rode up to the ruinous stretch of the battered wall, and saw
before us the gate, lying open against the mottled green and grey
high-ground of the Aventine, that old hill, covered with straggling
and unkempt vineyards, and studded with the walls of monasteries, I
was moved more than I can tell, for I was about to realise a dream of
my life, and put foot once again in the place of my birth, a spot not
only bound to me by that tie, but sacred with the hundred legends of
my forefathers' history, men who had for centuries played so great a
part in its fate, until our house was cast forth by the mother-city,
to wander as exiles over the land. It is true that since the days of
my childhood I had not seen Rome, it is true that such memories of it
as I had were dim and misty, and that to recall them was like trying
to bring back before one's eyes, when awake, the vague but pleasant
visions of a delightful dream; nevertheless my heart filled with a
strange joy, and my pulse began to beat more rapidly, as each stride
of my horse brought me nearer home. In short, I was a Roman come back
to Rome, and in these words sum up my feelings.

Filled with such thoughts, I tightened the reins half unconsciously,
and my horse, doubtless upset by his voyage, and the hard going from
Ostia, very willingly slackened his pace to a walk. Jacopo, as in duty
bound, followed my example, and immediately began to buzz into speech.

"It is nearly six years since I last saw that gate, excellency, when
with Count Carlo Orsini we rode up, just as it was closed behind
Cesare Borgia."

"That was when you left me for a time, on my taking service with
Venice."

"True, your worship; I had no mind for the galleys," and Jacopo
shuddered at the recollection of his recent voyage. "My courage," he
continued, "is firm enough on firm ground, but when the sea plays cup
and ball with me, I have no soul to think of my own salvation, let
alone fighting. _Ohime!_ But on that villainous craft we have left,
there were times when I was only too anxious not to live."

I smiled as I inquired, "And after your service with the Orsini where
did you go?"

"Well, your worship, no sooner did Count Carlo drive those scorpions
of the Colonna and Borgia back to Rome, than the Most Serene Republic
must needs step in and cause peace to be made. This threw me and
sundry other honest fellows out of employment, and on to the edge of
starvation, so we boldly rode into Rome, and changing from the bear to
the bull, tendered our services to the Borgia, and they were snapped
up I can tell you. I was lucky enough to find a master in the Duke of
Gandia."

"Lucky, you call it."

"Ay, your worship! for Giovanni Borgia had an open purse and a free
hand. I was with him until he was murdered, and then, affairs being
warm in Rome, and hearing you had come back from the sea, why, I came
back to the old banner."

"It is said that Gandia was murdered by the Cardinal Ascanio Sforza."

"Indeed no, your excellency! I saw the deed done. It was in this way:
the Duke and his brother Cesare, then Cardinal of Valencia, supped at
the house of their mother, the Lady Vannozza. After supper they must
needs walk home together; I was the Duke's sole attendant, but Cesare
was accompanied by his cut-throat Michelotto and half-a-dozen others.
On the way some mention was made of Donna Sancia, Don Giuffré's wife,
and the brothers came to blows. The Cardinal stabbed the Duke with his
own hand, and he gave a great cry and fell down dead. Seeing it was no
use trying to help a dead man, and being in no hurry to trouble St.
Peter myself, I knocked down the strangler Michelotto, and making a
run for it, escaped with a whole skin. The body of the Duke was flung
into the Tiber, and was discovered by a charcoal monger of the
Ripetta, whom Cesare hanged at Tor di Nona, as a reward for his
intelligence. They buried the Duke, as you know, signore, in Santa
Maria del Popolo--poor man!"

"And you mean to say that this was never known to the Pope?"

"I never said anything about that, your worship; a secret cannot be
kept by half-a-dozen, and I dare swear our Lord knows all about it or
else the Cardinal Ascanio would hardly be in the Cesarini as he is.
These things, however, must not be spoken of in Rome. Men's tongues
should be weighted with lead when the Borgia's name crops up."

We had by this time come opposite the Monte Testaccio, that curious
mound made of old pottery, which lies towards the river, south-west of
the Ostian Gate, and so engrossed were we in our talk, that we did
not observe a large party of riders of both sexes, with an escort of
men-at-arms, coming at a hand gallop from our right, straight in our
direction. Our attention was however sharply drawn to the fact by the
cry of an equerry who was riding well in advance of the others, and
this man shouted:

"The road! The road! Way for His Holiness! Way! Way!"

We drew off at once to the side, Jacopo dismounting and sinking to his
knees. I however contented myself with uncovering, and watching with
no little astonishment the party as they came up. They were evidently
returning from hawking, and at the head of the clump of riders were
two men in full Turkish costume.

"Who are those Turks?" I asked Jacopo, and the knave still kneeling,
and holding his hands up in supplication, answered hurriedly--

"One is the Soldan Djem, excellency--O Lord, I trust we may not be
hanged as an afternoon's amusement--the other, the fair one, old
Alexander VI. himself--O Lord! What cursed luck! Kneel, excellency; it
is our only chance."

"Tush!" I replied, and remembered at once that the brother of Bajazet,
the Grand Turk, was a hostage in Rome, practically a prisoner in the
hands of Alexander, a legacy he had inherited from the Cibo, and which
brought him forty thousand ducats annually. I could understand Djem in
Eastern costume, but the Pope masquerading in broad delight as a Moor!
It was as wonderful as it was disgusting to me. And then the
remembrance of Corte's daughter came to my mind, and as they
approached, I could hardly refrain from making a dash to rid the world
of the monster who sat in St. Peter's chair. I barely saluted as they
passed, but Jacopo roared out for a blessing, and the papal hand
airily cast a benediction at us. Alexander was apparently in a high
good-humour, for, turning in his saddle, he made some joking remark to
a lady who rode a trifle behind him, whereat she laughed loudly, a
harsh unmusical laugh, and glanced at me with a half-amused air, from
under her heavy lashes as she went by. The rest of the party,
spurring, laughing and chattering were a few yards behind; and as they
clattered on to the road, Djem, giving a wild shout of _Allah_!
_Allah!_ threw the reins on the neck of his barb, and galloped through
the gate at full speed, followed by Alexander and the rest of the
riders, who urging their mounts to a racing pace, and, both men and
women, yelling in imitation of the Moor, vanished through the gate
after him in a whirlwind of dust. So quickly did all this happen, that
I had hardly time to observe the faces of those who passed me, and
indeed, so astonished was I, that I had scarce room in my mind for any
other feeling. I had of course heard wild tales of the Vatican, and
strange and horrible stories of the Borgia himself, indeed there was
one crime that should have brought down God's lightning on the man,
for all that he was the Vicar of Christ; but I never for one moment
conceived it possible that Alexander could so far forget his place as
to appear in public robed as a heathen, and gallop through the streets
of Rome like a drunken madman.

When they had gone, Jacopo arose from his knees, and dusting them with
his hands whilst he looked up at me, said: "_Corpo di Bacco!_ But I
gave up all for lost. I vow a candle to St. Mary of--I forget
where--but to the shrine nearest to the place we dine, for this lucky
escape."

"Come, sirrah!" I said, a little annoyed, "mount. There never was any
danger."

"Your excellency is pleased to say so," he replied, swinging himself
into the saddle, "but if you saw two old men and a half-dozen old
women strung up for merely blocking the way, as I did at Tor di Nona,
perhaps your worship would think as I do."

I made no reply, allowing Jacopo the run of his tongue to relieve his
feelings, and we went on slowly until we reached the gate. Here I
spoke, "As you know Rome better than I do, Jacopo, you had best lead
the way; but I want to pass by the two houses of my family before we
make for the Strangers' Quarters, where we must find a lodging for the
night."

"Very well, your worship!" and Jacopo drew a little to the front.
"There they go," he said, shading his eyes with his hands, and turning
to the left, where a dun cloud of dust on the Via della Marmorata
marked the progress of the Borgia. "The best way, signore," he
continued, "is over the hill; we will get a view from there, and then
passing by the places you want to see, make for a quiet hostel I know
of in the Strangers' Quarters."

Following him, we rode up the Aventine, until we reached the old wall
of Servius Tullius, here we stopped to observe the view. To the west
and south-west we could see the green of the Campagna merging into the
distant grey of the Roman Maremma, whilst beyond that a clear blue
line, below the flush of the coming sunset, marked the sea. Beneath us
lay the Tiber and the Island, the yellow water of the river stirred
into ripples by the breeze, and looking from the distance like
hammered brass. Beyond the Tiber rose Monte Gianicolo, behind which
the top of the Vatican Hill was just visible. To the north the view
was a little shut in by the Palatine and the church of St. Prisca
above us, and far off rose the cone of Soratte. North-east and east
lay the Palatine, the Esquiline, with the campaniles of Santa Maria
Maggiore and San Pietro in Vincoli. Over Monte Coelio we could see the
heights of the Sabine Hills, and running our eyes along the Appian
Way, we could almost descry the Alban Lake, the mountains being
distinctly visible. We stayed for a few moments drinking in the view,
and then going onwards, turned north-west, past St. Prisca, and began
the descent, by a winding way, held in by vineyards. Coming down we
caught a glimpse of the three churches of the Aventine, namely S.
Sabina, S. Maria Aventina, and St. Alessio, which was held by the
monastery of St. Jerome, whose walls rose hard at hand. A look to the
right showed us the Circus Maximus, above which towered a huge obelisk
surrounded by four lions. At length we came to the Vicola di San
Sabina, and at the corner of the street rose the grey walls and square
tower of the castle of the Savelli. I drew rein, and looked at it with
a bitter heart, and a sigh I could not control escaped me, as I saw
the breeze catch and spread to the wind the silken folds of the
standard of the Chigi, who bore quartered on their shield the star of
the Savelli and the tree of De la Rovere. It flaunted there, in all
the insolent pomp of a new house, whose moneybags were full, and the
sight of it was enough for me. Jacopo must have caught the look on my
face, for he said kindly--

"Who knows, excellency--luck may turn."

Well meant as the words were, they jarred on me, and without replying
I moved on, silently raising my sword to the salute, as I passed the
grim gates from which my ancestors held the road as far as the river,
and almost held Rome itself.

As we went past the Island, I did not even raise my head to see the
Theatre of Marcellus, within which lay another and the oldest of our
family houses, having come to us through Pierleone towards the close
of the eleventh century.

Jacopo was for going straight on past the monastery of the Aracoeli,
on the Capitol; but unluckily I discovered that my horse had cast a
shoe, and this was a matter not to be neglected. So we turned to the
right, and entered the Campo Vaccino, formerly the Forum of Rome. It
being now sunset, here were collected hundreds of oxen and buffaloes,
and from the height of Monte Caprino we could hear the bleating of the
herds of goats which were pastured thereon, and the tinkling of their
bells as they moved slowly down towards their shelter for the night. A
hundred fires were blazing cheerfully, and served to dissipate the
blue vapour which began to hang over the place. Round these fires were
groups of people, mostly countrymen, who seemed in the best of
spirits, as they listened to songs, or watched numbers of their party,
who danced merrily to the tune of a pipe. Hard by were a number of
sheds, used by mechanics, and the blaze, which showed a forge in work,
soon attracting our attention, we made there at once, and had the
horse attended to.

Whilst the smith was beating out a shoe, I sat down on a rough bench,
my horse being fastened to a wooden post, and Jacopo holding his nag
by the bridle paced up and down, occasionally stamping his feet on the
ground to free them, as he said, from the ants. In other words he was
suffering slightly from cramp. To my right was a large crowd,
evidently enjoying a show of jugglery, and from their cries of
wonderment and pleasure, they seemed to be having their money's worth.
So I rose and elbowed my way to a good place, unfortunately only in
time to see the end of the affair. The juggler was robed in a doctor's
gown, and after performing a trick, he distributed nostrums for
various ailments, free of payment. Imagine my surprise, in recognising
in him no other than Mathew Corte; and as I came up, he placed a
tambourine in his little dog's mouth, and bade him carry it round for
subscriptions. Coppers were freely flung in, and as the little animal
stopped before me, I dropped in a florin, and stooped to pat its head.
As I rose I caught Corte's eye, and saw he knew me, but as he made no
sign I stayed quiet. Collecting his money, the doctor bowed his
thanks, and began packing up the instruments of his trade. I went back
to my seat, and watched the smith at work on my horse, thinking that
Corte must have somehow come into funds, and wondering how he had
managed it. After a little time I felt a touch on my shoulder, and
turning round saw him beside me. I invited him to a seat, inquiring
after his health.

"It grows better day by day," he answered, "now that my work is begun.
And you, signore?"

"I can say the same," I answered; "I grow better day by day, now that
my work is begun."

"There is a favour I ask, Messer Donati," he went on.

"What is it?"

"It is this, and do not think me ungrateful. I am here playing a part.
We will meet again, perhaps, under different surroundings. All I ask
is that if we do, you will make no sign of recognition, nor mention to
anyone that you know me."

"As you wish, Messer Corte."

"A hundred thanks, and yet another thing--short reckonings make long
friends," and he pressed into my palm two gold pieces, the amount of
the sum I had left with him the night his daughter died. I had no
desire to take them back, not knowing how Corte stood; but he assured
me he would be deeply offended if I did not, and that he was well
provided with the sinews of war. Where he had got them I know not, and
of course I had no option but to receive back the money I had given
him, though I did this most unwillingly. When this was over, he
pressed my hand once more, and, wishing me good night, hurried off.

By this time the blacksmith had completed his task, and we delayed no
longer, but went off at once. It was fortunate that Jacopo knew Rome
as he did, or we might have been hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of
streets, some of them in total ruin, some of them entirely
uninhabited, for at the time so hideous was the misgovernment of the
city, that all who could do so had fled from Rome, and those who
remained could not have exceeded thirty thousand in number, of whom at
least ten thousand, men and women, were beings who had lost all claim
to the respect of mankind, and were capable of almost any crime. These
are hard words, but true, nor indeed have I ever seen a place where
all that was bad was so shamelessly exposed, as in Rome when Roderigo
Borgia was Pope. At length we reached the Strangers' Quarters, but
Jacopo's hostel was not to be found, and after searching for it in
vain, we were content to pull up before the door of a small inn built
on the lower slope of Monte Pincio, barely a bow-shot from S. Trinità
de' Monte, the church erected by Charles of France in 1495, and a
little beyond the convent of the Dames du Sacré Coeur. I cannot say
that the hostel was an inviting-looking place; in fact it was little
better than one of the common _osterie_ or wineshops with which Rome
abounded; but it was too late to pick and choose, and for the night at
least, I determined to stay here. Our first duty was to attend to the
horses, which we had stabled in stalls, immediately below the room to
be occupied by me, Jacopo having to put up with lodgings in the
stables for the night. After the beasts had been fed and groomed, I
set myself to a plain dinner, washed down with the contents of a
straw-covered _mezzo fiasco_ of Frascati. Jacopo waited on me, and
when I was done, contentedly devoured the remainder of the _manzo_ or
boiled beef, and cooled his throat with a bottle of Marino, which I
presented to him. Whilst he was thus engaged, I went down and had
another look at the horses, and as I patted their necks, and they
whinnied at me, I thought regretfully of the good beast who lay dead
on the Leghorn road, and wondered what had become of Brico, of whom,
notwithstanding his villainy, I could hardly think of without smiling.
It was in truth strange that a man, so arrant a poltroon at heart,
should desert his natural occupation of a lackey, to play the bravo,
and pose as a soldier. How he had ever even obtained the rank of
ancient was a matter of surprise and wonder to me. At length I
dismissed him from my mind, and coming back, found Jacopo at the end
of his meal and his bottle. It was late enough now, and giving him
warning to sleep lightly, and to arouse me at once if necessity arose,
for I liked not the look of the place, I climbed up the ladder leading
to the loft above the stables, which was to serve me as a chamber for
the night.




                             CHAPTER XIV.

                          GEORGE OF AMBOISE.


I should mention that before retiring I had obtained from the landlord
a good-sized lanthorn, which I had carefully filled with oil, and
trimmed under my own eyes. Holding this in my hand I ascended the
ladder leading to the chamber, or rather loft I was to occupy, and on
gaining my point I placed it on the floor, near the opening by which
the ladder led into the room, and so directed the light that its glare
passed downwards, and up to the entrance of the stables, leaving the
sides of the stables in darkness, although my own room was bright
enough. This was a precautionary measure, as it would discover any one
attempting to come in by the stable entrance, which had no door, and
would enable me at any time to see to rush down quickly to the aid of
Jacopo, should he need it. I debated a short while as to whether I
should undress for the night; but so little did I like the looks of
the place, which was more like a house of call for bravos than
anything I had seen, that I did nothing beyond removing my boots, and
flinging myself as I was on the vile truckle-bed in the room, I placed
my drawn sword by my side, and sought to sleep, struggling resolutely
to get this, despite the legions of inhabitants the bed contained, who
with one accord sallied forth to feast upon me. But sleep I was
determined to have, as I had work for to-morrow, and knowing Jacopo to
own sharp eyes and quick ears felt no scruple about getting my rest,
determining however, to make it up the next day to my knave for his
vigil, which I was sure would be faithfully kept. Finally, despite the
attacks of my enemies, I dropped off into a light slumber, which
lasted for two or three hours, when I was startled by hearing a shrill
whistle, the clash of swords, the kicking and plunging of the horses,
and Jacopo's voice shouting out my name. I woke up at once, with all
my wits about me, and on the instant ran down the ladder, sword in
hand, parrying more by accident than design, a cut that was made at me
by some one as I descended.

As I touched ground, two men darted out of the door, and ran across
the half-ruined yard in front of the stables. A third, whom I
recognised as Jacopo, was about to follow, but I held him back by the
shoulder, having no mind to run risks around dark corners whilst I had
my letter to deliver. Jacopo yielded to me very unwillingly, and in
answer to my hurried inquiry, gave me an account of the affair which
had been as brief as it was noisy.

"When your worship retired," said he, "leaving the lanthorn to so to
conveniently light up the stable entrance, I had another look at the
horses, and then settled myself down on that heap of straw yonder, my
back to the wall, and my sword in my right hand. So an hour, or may be
two, passed, and then I heard voices outside, and some one swearing at
the light. Oh ho! says I to myself, there's a night-hawk about, and I
remained on the alert, not thinking it worth while to give tongue
then. After a while the voices dropped away--and, excellency, I am
sorry, but I must have slipped off into a doze, and beshrew me! if I
did not dream I was aboard that cursed ship again, and being made to
play pea-in-the-drum once more. I therefore made haste to awaken, and
as I opened my eyes heard a crackling noise outside. I rose slowly and
crept towards the entrance, and just as I reached within three feet of
it a handful of pebbles was thrown in, and one of the horses started a
bit. The stones were clearly flung from outside to see if any one was
awake; but of course I made no sign, and the next minute two men
appeared at the open entrance. I gave a whistle to rouse your honour,
and went at them at once--and your excellency knows the rest. I think
however I touched one--see there!"

He held the point of his blade to the light, and placed the end of his
finger on a stain on the sword.

"Three inches at least," he exclaimed, and with a satisfied air,
stooped down to clean his finger on the straw at his feet. I thanked
the good fellow for his zeal and the fidelity he had shown.

"As for that, excellency," he said, "there is no need to praise me,
for I expect to be made a cavaliere when your worship wins back the
lordships of the Savelli!"

"You are brave enough for a cavaliere," I laughed, "the point however
for you at present is sleep. Go up to my room and get what you can. I
have done for to-night, and will watch the horses. It was after them
that our visitors came."

But to this he would not consent on any account, nor was I so anxious
to go back to that bed, so bringing down the light from above, we
passed the rest of the night close to the horses. In the intervals of
dozing Jacopo related to me, twice over, in the minutest detail, the
story of the hanging of the two old men and six old women which he had
seen at Tor di Nona, and finally sank off into sleep. I did not make
any attempt to arouse him, and kept on the watch myself until the
lanthorn burned with a sickly glare, and the crowing of a cock told us
the morning was begun. In a few minutes it was light enough to see,
and Jacopo rising, shook himself like a dog, and stepping up to the
lanthorn extinguished it; after which, with much whistling, he set
himself to water the animals, give them their morning feed, and groom
them.

Leaving him thus engaged, I strolled out into the courtyard, where
there was already a figure or two moving, and stepping through a gap
in the ruined wall, climbed up a portion of the slope of Monte Pincio,
following a narrow lane, on each side of which was a half-deserted
garden, and bending my steps to where, from amidst a clump of trees, I
could hear the song of a _caponera d'edera_ or blackcap, who was in
full tune. Attracted by the music of the bird, I went on until I heard
the plashing of water, and found myself at the basin of a deserted
fountain, which was hemmed in with vines and creepers, and from which
a thin stream of water was pouring, and bubbling down the hillside in
the direction of S. Trinità di Monte. The basin was made of grey
stone, cracked with age in many places, and from these fissures
sprouted masses of white serpyllum, the flowers in full bloom. In the
centre of the basin was a much damaged figure of Ceres, and from her
horn a stream of water fell with a melodious splashing, which, mingled
with the song of the bird, had a pleasing effect upon my ear. I took
advantage of the solitude of the spot to enjoy the luxury of a bath,
and when I had dressed again, climbed a few feet higher, and facing
round ran my eye idly over the view. Through the grey mist rising over
the houses and vineyards, the Tiber lay, like a yellow snake at rest;
one could see no motion of the waters. Near the Ripetta, long spirals
of dark smoke curling up to the sky marked the quarters of the
charcoal-burners, and the sunrise, which was behind me, cast a glory
on the colossal statue of the archangel Michael, where it stood on the
gloomy keep of St. Angelo, like a triumphant god alighting upon earth.
A dark rolling mist, bright at the top with the sunlight, blue-grey
beneath, covered the city below me; but I could make out the octagonal
dome of the hospital of San Spirito, the vast walls of the Vatican,
then in course of construction, and the dark stretch of cork trees
that filled the Valle dell' Inferno, beyond the Vatican hill. Monte
Mario was all alight, and I could distinctly make out the Villa
Mellini on its summit. There were landmarks that even a stranger, such
as myself, who had the barest knowledge of the place, could not miss;
and as I watched the heaving mist below me, I saw a sudden flash from
the bastion of St. Angelo, and a moment after the boom of the morning
gun reached my ears. I did not wait to observe more of the scene, but
retraced my steps to the albergo, where I found that Jacopo had
ordered a little table to be put out into the portico, and on this my
breakfast was set. As I attacked this, Jacopo asked the order of the
day, and I informed him that when he had breakfasted we should settle
with the host and seek other lodgings, after I had attended to the
business I had with Monsignore d'Amboise.

My henchman was also anxious to know if I meant to take any steps with
regard to the attempt at robbery last night. I was well enough
inclined, but determined to let the matter rest until my business was
done, and for the present said I would remain content with the
satisfaction that we had saved our steeds and throats. By the time I
finished breakfast, Jacopo, who had already taken a meal, had saddled
the horses, and was holding them ready for our departure. I summoned
mine host, but at first could obtain no view of him. Finally on my
threat to depart without settling my score, he appeared with his arm
bound up in a sling. As he was unwounded the evening before, I made no
doubt but that he was one of the two who had visited us last night,
but said nothing, merely remarking, as I paid my account, that the
love of horseflesh frequently brought people into trouble. He did not
seem to appreciate the remark, and scowled at me, at which I bade him
begone, and to thank his stars that his house was not pulled about his
ears. He did not attempt any reply, but slunk off, and inwardly
resolving to clear out this nest of scorpions from Rome at the first
chance, I rode out of the gate, followed by Jacopo, and we directed
our way towards the Ponte S. Angelo. I had not the least idea where
his eminence of Rouen was staying; but made certain it would be
somewhere in the Borgo, and that once I had reached the papal quarter,
I should find no difficulty in my search for D'Amboise, and in
delivering to him Machiavelli's letter.

As I went on, I began to feel nervous in spite of myself, as to what
the results of my interview with the cardinal would be, and whether it
would end in the further employment, which the Secretary had
distinctly said it would. I had no reason to doubt, however, and it
was with a hopeful mind that I trotted up the Lungo Tavere, and was
brought to a halt by a gruesome spectacle at Tor di Nona. There was a
crowd assembled, watching an execution, and Jacopo, sidling up to me,
remarked as he pointed to a body swinging in the air--

"What room there would be for Messer Braccio Fortebraccio here,
signore--see that pear, of the kind he loves, growing there? _Barta!_
But there is another one----" and, even as he spoke, another wretch
was hoisted into the air, and then another and another. I did not stop
to look; but Jacopo stayed behind, overtaking me at a gallop as I
reached the Piazza di S. Angelo.

"It is the doctor of St. John's on the Lateran, and three of his
bravos, signore. It is said he was accustomed to spend his evenings in
cutting purses and throats; but, as ill luck would have it, meddled
with one of Giulia Bella's friends, and no money could buy an
indulgence for that."

"If true he is well served, and there are others of his kidney whom we
could spare with equal pleasure."

"Mine host of our inn, excellency, for instance. But the gibbet at Tor
di Nona does not always bear fruit like this. I mind early one----"

At this moment, however, I set spurs to my horse and lost the rest,
being afraid that Jacopo intended to retail to me the story of the old
men and women who had been hanged as a morning's diversion by Cesare
Borgia, and as he had twice delivered himself of this to me as we sat
up last night, I was in no mood to hear it again for the third time.
Near the statues of Peter and Paul, on the bridge, was a guard-house,
occupied at the time by a detachment of Spanish infantry, and to these
men I addressed myself, inquiring where the cardinal of Rouen was
staying. I was told, at once, that his eminence was lodging in the new
palace of Cardinal Corneto, opposite the Scorsa Cavalli, and that my
best way was to turn to the left on crossing the bridge, and then to
the right at the junction of the Borgo San Spirito and the Borgo San
Michele.

Bestowing my thanks and a largesse on the men for their kindness, I
went on at a gallop, congratulating myself on the ease with which the
difficulty was solved, and in a few minutes had crossed the Piazza
Scorsa Cavalli, and was before the residence of the cardinal. At the
time I speak of, it was not quite finished, but still habitable, and
had been rented by Monsignore d'Amboise, as being conveniently near
the Vatican.

On entering the courtyard, I dismounted, and giving my horse to Jacopo
to hold, ascended the steps, and boldly announced myself as an urgent
messenger who had business with his eminence. I was ushered by a page
into a reception room, and early as the hour was, there were a
considerable number of people already in attendance, awaiting the
morning levée. Here I was left to cool my heels for a little time, the
spruce page informing me that the cardinal was engaged at breakfast,
but that he would tell him of my coming, and asked my name. I
hesitated for a moment, but decided to keep the name of Donati which I
had assumed, and gave that, adding that I was the bearer of an urgent
despatch to the cardinal, which I must deliver with my own hands. The
young man then left me, as I have said, and taking a good position
near the entrance door to the adjoining room, I leaned back against
the wall, and awaited my summons. The reception room was of noble
proportions, oblong in shape, the ceiling being supported by two
pillars of veined marble, which, although they diminished the size of
the chamber, had a good effect. The marble flooring, arranged in a
patchwork of black and white, was bare of all furniture, and as the
room gradually filled, the constant moving of feet, the sound of which
rang sharply on the stone, made it appear as if a lot of masons'
hammers were at work. I let my eyes wander over the groups as they
stood or moved about, wondering, if by chance I should see anyone I
knew; but they were all strangers to me, mostly Frenchmen, with a fair
sprinkling of priests amongst them. They were one and all trying to
jostle past each other, so as to gain as close a position as possible
to the entrance door, near to which I stood; and as I watched this
with some little amusement, I heard a whisper in my ear, and glancing
round beheld a man standing near me in a doctor's robe, holding a
heavily bound missal in his hand. I saw in a moment it was Corte, and
he whispered in a low voice:

"Well met again, signore, remember your promise."

"I do, and the promise I made to the juggler will not be forgotten to
the doctor. Is it wise, however, if you wish to remain unknown, for us
to be seen speaking here?"

"Not very, but I wanted a word with you. Do not look round at present,
but near the pillar to your right are two men, one dressed half in
cloth of gold, and they are more interested in you than you think. I
overheard a snatch of conversation--they are moving this way. By your
leave, signore," raising his voice, he attempted to push by me, and
catching the hint his last words had thrown out, I answered loudly,
"First come, first served, learned doctor, and you must bide your
turn."

"I am a man of peace, and therefore yield." Corte moved off, and I was
free to look around me. I saw that Corte's little piece of acting, to
which I had risen, was due to the fact that the man in the cloth of
gold and his companion were edging nearer to us, and at the time were
barely six feet off. Besting my hand lightly on the hilt of my sword I
looked the two full in the face, but could make nothing of them. The
one who wore a jerkin of gold cloth met my look for an instant, and
then dropped his eyes, a faint flush rising to his cheek. I saw that
he was a young man of a singularly handsome countenance. A short
neatly curled moustache fell over his upper lip and mouth, but there
was no sign of a beard on the small and rounded chin, which was
cleanly shaven. On his right cheek he wore a black patch, placed as if
to hide the scar of a wound, although his complexion was as delicate
as if the sun had never touched it. In his ears he wore earrings, an
affectation of female adornment hateful to me, and the fingers of his
small right hand, which he held ungloved, were covered with rings. The
hilt of his rapier too, peeping from under the folds of his gay cloak,
was crested with jewels, and altogether it seemed as if I could have
nothing to fear from this painted lily, who looked more fitted to
thrum a lute in a lady's bower than have aught to do with the stir of
the times. I therefore loosed my glance from him with some contempt,
and turned to his companion, who was robed as an abbé, and evidently
in a sour middle age. His features were bolder than those of his
companion, but distinctly those of the canaille, and there was nothing
in them in any way remarkable.

Nevertheless I thought it well to be on the watch, knowing that a
dagger thrust is easily sent home, and there was the certainty, too,
that the fact of my coming to Rome with a letter was known to the
Medici plotters in Florence, and evidently it was their object to
frustrate its delivery. What puzzled me, however, was that the look
the young man directed to me was not unfriendly, and it struck me that
if I could only hear his voice it might give me some clue to a
recognition. The two had come a little between me and the door, and I
was just about to contest the place with a view of forcing their hands
if possible, when the door was flung open and the same page who had
taken my name appeared and called out--

"Signor Donati, his eminence awaits you."

As the door opened there was a general movement towards it. But the
cry of the page in a moment arrested the crowd, turning the look of
anticipation on the faces of all to one of disappointment, and a loud
murmuring arose against my being so favored. I lost not a second in
stepping forward, and in doing so purposely brushed against the young
man near to me, turning round as I did so with a somewhat brusque "By
your leave, sir." I fully expected that he would resent my rudeness
and make some speech, but he merely bowed his head with a courteous
inclination, showing a set of small and even teeth as he smiled under
his blonde moustache. I was a little put out by the failure of my
plan, but the next instant the door closed behind me, and at any rate
the letter to the cardinal was safe, and my task was as good as
accomplished.

I followed the page therefore with an equal mind, and lifting a
curtain, which fell in heavy folds at the end of the passage, where a
couple of gorgeous lackeys stood, he called out "Messer Donati," and
then stepped aside to let me pass. I entered the room with a firm
step, and saw before me a large, but plainly-furnished apartment. In a
lounge chair near a small table, on which was set out a light repast,
was a man whom I at once guessed to be the cardinal. He wore a purple
robe, and the barettina or small skull cap, which covered the tonsure
on his head, allowed his short grey hair, which curled naturally, to
be seen around it. Under the cap I saw a square resolute face with
keen black eyes, and a full but kindly mouth. He was just putting down
a glass of vernaccia as I came in, and I caught the purple glitter of
the sapphire ring he wore in token of his rank, as he set down the
glass. He was not alone, for, leaning against the window and caressing
the head of an enormous wolf-hound, was a splendidly-dressed cavalier,
who looked up as I came in, and I saw at once it was Bayard. I kept my
eyes away from him, however, and advancing straight towards the
cardinal, placed the letter before him without a word.

D'Amboise looked at the seals carefully, and then taking a small
jade-hilted knife from the table, ripped open the envelope, and ran
his eye quickly over the letter. As he did so not a muscle of his face
moved to show how the contents stirred him, and when he had finished
he held it out at arm's length, saying--

"My dear Bayard, what do you think of this?"

Bayard made a step forward to take the letter, and in doing this our
eyes met, and he frankly held out his hand. I could hardly believe it
when I saw it extended towards me. My breath came thick and fast, and
the whole room swam around. The man was the soul of honour, the
noblest knight in Christendom; he had seen my trial, nay, he had been
one of my judges, and he offered me his hand! He must hold me
guiltless, I felt. "My lord!" I rather gasped than spoke as I took his
grasp, but seeing my emotion, he put in--

"Sit down, cavaliere. His eminence will forgive me for disposing of a
seat in his house--we are more than old friends." He placed his hand
on my shoulder and forced me to a seat, whilst D'Amboise, still
holding the letter in his hand, looked at us with a puzzled air.

"St. Dennis!" he exclaimed. "What does this mean, Bayard?"

"It means, your eminence, that this is a gallant gentleman who has
been most basely used; but pardon me--the letter."

He took the letter from the cardinal's hands and read it quickly,
whilst I sat still, with emotions in my heart I cannot describe, and
D'Amboise glanced from one to another with a half-amused, half-curious
look on his keen face. Bayard finished his perusal in a few seconds,
and laying the letter on the table said, "Nothing could be better. We
should be prepared for action, although there is yet plenty of time. I
wonder how in the world the Florentine got wind of this?"

"Oh, he has long ears. We shall, however, want a good sword, and if
all that the secretary writes is true, we have got it in your friend
the Cavaliere Donati. In fact Machiavelli suggests him for the task."

"My name, your eminence, is not Donati," I here put in, "but Savelli.
When misfortune overtook me, I changed my name; but I see no reason
for hiding the truth from you."

"Quite right," said D'Amboise, "but Savelli! Is this the Savelli of
the Arezzo affair, Bayard?"

Bayard nodded assent, and the cardinal continued, turning to me.
"Then, sir, I have heard your story, and you have more friends than
you think. But of this, later on. Were you not at Fornovo?"

"Yes," I replied, wondering what the cardinal's speech meant.

"_Ciel!_ I made out your patent of St. Lazare myself. What could have
made Tremouille act as he did I do not know, and he is as obstinate as
a mule. Bayard, I know all about this gentleman, and your testimony to
his worth convinces me that what I have heard is correct. I could
never believe the story myself."

"My lords, you may doubt; but the world----"

"Will yet come round to you, cavaliere," said Bayard, and added, "Your
eminence could not have a better sword for your purpose than that of
M. di Savelli here, provided he will accept the task."

"I will accept anything from you, my lords," I said.

"Good," said D'Amboise, "now let me tell you how you stand. Acting
doubtless in the advice of friends, Madame d'Entrangues wrote to me a
full account of the affair, which ended so badly for you, and
explained fully her husband's treachery. This she begged me to forward
to Tremouille with a view of getting your sentence altered. As you
have just been made aware, I have some knowledge of you, and it was a
thousand pities to see a sword, which had served France well, turned
away. I laid the matter before the duke, but he replied to say he
could take no action. The duchess, who is my cousin, has also used her
influence but to no purpose, for Tremouille stirs his porridge with
his own hand, and does not care if it burn or not, as long as he stirs
it himself. We could get the king's pardon for you, and as a last
resource that might be done, for I like as little to be thwarted as
His Grace of Tremouille; but that will raise you up a strong enemy in
the duke, and it will not kill the story--you see."

"I do, your eminence. How can I thank you?"

"I do not want your thanks, cavaliere; but France wants your sword.
Your only way is to do a signal service for France, and after this the
matter is easy. Tremouille is generous, and it would want but a little
pressure to make him rescind his sentence apparently of his own
accord, provided you could do what I have said. Strange how fate
works!"

I remained silent, and D'Amboise went on: "Such a service it is
possible for you to do, and I will put it in your way. I cannot at
present give you details as they have to be discussed with the
secretary, who will shortly be in Rome. This much, however, I can tell
you; get together a few good men, you doubtless can lay your hands on
them, and be ready. You will no doubt want funds, but they will be
arranged for. In the meantime you may consider yourself as attached to
my suite--a moment," he continued as I was about to pour out my
thanks, "you had better for the present call yourself Donati. I know
something of the history of Roman families, and your name would not
smell well to the Chigi and Colonna, and remember the Tiber is very
deep."

He touched a small handbell as he concluded, and the page appeared.
"Defaure," he said, "send the Abbé Le Clere and my gentlemen to me;
after that you will please inform the steward that apartments are to
be prepared at once for M. Donati, who is here." The page bowed and
vanished, and as I rose to await the coming of the suite, the cardinal
went on with a smile, "Messieurs in the ante-room are doubtless
getting impatient; we must make haste to receive them." As he said
these words a grey-haired priest entered, bearing on a cushion the
scarlet hat of a prince of the church, and following him, half-a-dozen
gentlemen, and grooms of the chamber. The cardinal rose, and leaning
on the arm of Bayard, walked slowly towards the door. Le Clerc bore
the hat immediately before him, and the rest of us formed a queue
behind. As we came to the door it was flung open by two lackeys in a
blue and silver livery, who shouted out--

"My Lord Cardinal--way--way."

We passed into the room where the people were arranged in two rows,
and D'Amboise walked down the line, bowing to one, exchanging a word
or two with another, until he came opposite Corte. The doctor dropped
to his knee, and presenting his book, solicited the cardinal's
influence to obtain for him an audience with the Pope, to whom he
desired to dedicate his work.

"_Perte!_" said the cardinal. "Why not go to his eminence of
Strigonia--books are more in his line than--well, we shall see--we
shall see."

He passed on, and the next group that caught his eye was that of the
young stranger in the cloth of gold and his companion.

As the cardinal approached, the young man drew a letter from his vest,
and presented it with a low bow.

D'Amboise tore it open and glanced over the contents. "_Diable!_" he
exclaimed, "from Madame de la Tremouille herself. See here, Bayard,
the Duchess writes, introducing her friend the Chevalier St.
Armande--I know not the house."

"We are of Picardy, your eminence."

The voice was singularly sweet and soft, and a strange and undefinable
resemblance in its tones to some other voice I had heard struck me,
but I could not fix upon anything.

"The Duchess says you are anxious to serve; would it not have been
easier to send you to the Duke?"

St. Armande looked round with a heightened colour, and then replied,
speaking in the same low, soft tones:

"If your eminence will kindly read the letter, you will perceive that
my desire was to see something of the court of Rome before joining the
duke."

D'Amboise glanced at the letter again, and an odd smile passed over
his face.

"I see," he added, "the postscript--My dear Chevalier, Madame de la
Tremouille's requests are commands to me. If you will do me the honour
of joining my suite, I shall be delighted. Permit me to introduce you
to the Cavaliere Donati, who is also a new friend."

I bowed and extended my hand, and St. Armande placed his within mine.
It was small and delicate as a woman's, and as I clasped it for a
moment, it felt as chill and cold as death.




                             CHAPTER XV.

                         THE GIFT OF BAYARD.


The levée lasted some little time, as D'Amboise, who was studious of
the arts of gaining popularity, listened with apparent interest to any
one who chose to address him, and seemed to possess a wonderful memory
for even the most trifling details. This was, in fact, an informal
reception, which the cardinal, both as a prince of the Church, and the
representative of France at the Papal Court, held daily, and hither
came all the lesser members of the French party in Rome, and all those
who hoped to gain something from the prelate by the simple process of
asking; for D'Amboise was known to be generous and free, despite an
occasional testiness of manner, such as he had exhibited to Corte, and
shown in the first instance to St. Armande.

Corte I spoke to no more that day; but I saw him, where he had
retreated to the extreme end of the room, his book under his arm,
evidently waiting to make his exit. St. Armande took his place beside
me, his companion, the abbé, dropping into the rear. Once he, St.
Armande, hazarded a remark, which I did not catch, and therefore did
not answer. In truth, I was in no mood for speaking, my mind being
full of my eventful interview with the cardinal and Bayard, and I was
more than grateful for the happy chance that had enabled me to draw my
sword in aid of the secretary Machiavelli. I thought too of Madame
D'Entrangues, and of what she had done in my behalf, and would have
given much to have thanked her for her efforts, fruitless although
they apparently were. But what struck me most of all was the fact,
that whilst in my misery at Florence I was upbraiding fate, and all
but cursing God, friends were at work, trying to help and aid me, and
this taught me a lesson.

At last the levée came to an end. The last petition monger had made
his request, D'Amboise had made his last pleasant speech, and, turning
slowly round, we made our way back, when the cardinal retired with
Bayard to an inner apartment, leaving us to our own devices. St.
Armande, whose appearance attracted general attention, was surrounded
by the gentlemen of the suite, who asked the last news of the court,
and the last scandal of Maçon, where Louis was, holding high revelry,
instead of marching, as he should have done, at once into Italy, after
the defeat of Cesare at Fossombrone. The result of his action being a
further truce that much delayed his success, and indeed very nearly
ruined his chances, which were great at the time. As for me, I was
left to myself; no one coming near me except the huge hound, which
rose slowly, and approaching, surveyed me with a grave interest. Then,
apparently satisfied, he wagged his tail in approval, and touched my
hand with his grim muzzle. I ran my fingers over his shaggy coat with
a caressing motion, and, observing Defaure, the page whom I had first
addressed on arrival, begged him to show me my apartments, enquiring
at the same time of Jacopo and the horses.

"The house is full, signore," he replied, "but we have done what we
could for your accommodation. The horses have been attended to, and
the Sergeant Jacopo awaits you in your rooms."

"Thanks, friend," and I followed him, smiling a little to myself at
the French rank which Jacopo had assumed, no doubt out of compliment
to our host, my new employer. We passed out by the same entrance by
which I had come in, and, crossing a courtyard, the page ushered me to
a set of apartments in an outbuilding, and left me with the
information that dinner would be served at noon for the cardinal as
well as the gentlemen of the suite.

I found Jacopo in high glee. He had set out all my apparel, and was
engaged in burnishing his sword. This he put down as I came in, and
burst into speech.

"Blood of St. John! Excellency, but did I not say luck would turn?
Yesterday we were anywhere," and he held up both hands with the
fingers outstretched, "to-day, behold!" and he waved his arms around
the room, which was certainly fitted with luxury, and struck me as all
the more luxurious after my past privations.

"The horses, Jacopo?"

"Are well as might be, signore, and munching their corn as if they
were never to have another feed. Does your excellency mean to stay
long in this land of plenty?"

"Not for long, Jacopo. And harkee! Remember not to address me by any
other name than that of Donati. Do not let a hint of my real name
escape you, and avoid babbling over the wine cup."

"I will be dumb, excellency."

"A good deal depends on your prudence in this, and you must take care
not to fail. Now to business, and keep your ears open and your head
clear. How do we stand as regards funds?"

Jacopo, to whom I had entrusted my money, pulled out a leather purse
and counted the contents.

"There are five-and-thirty crowns with me, signore, and five I gave
your worship this morning, making forty in all," and he restored the
purse to its hiding-place under his belt.

"Enough for our needs at present, and more will be forthcoming soon,
for there is business in hand."

"I said that luck would turn," repeated Jacopo, his face showing joy
at the news.

"Never mind the luck, but attend to me. I want to enlist half-a-dozen
good men, men who will go anywhere and do anything. They must bring
their own arms and horses, and I will engage them for a month, and pay
each man five crowns."

"That is at the rate of sixty crowns a year for each man. We could
enlist half Rome for that."

"Probably, but it isn't half Rome, only half-a-dozen men I want."

"Very true, your worship, and I will doubtless be able to find them;
but, excellency----"

"What is it?"

"Six men at five crowns each makes thirty crowns, and--"

"Did I not say more will be forthcoming? You need not pay them in
advance. Two crowns each on enlisting, and the remainder on completion
of the task. Will that do?"

"It is enough surely."

"Very well, then you may set about this at once, and remember that
they should be lodged close at hand, and be ready to go anywhere at a
moment's notice."

"Excellency."

Whilst this conversation was going on I had effected such change in my
attire as was possible, resolving to take the first opportunity the
following day to summon a tailor and give him orders for things for
which I stood in need. Jacopo was just about to depart when Defaure,
the page, appeared, bearing with him a note and a ruleau, which he
said was from his eminence. These he left with me and retired, saying
there was no answer. The note was brief, merely hoping I was in
comfort, and sending me in the ruleau a hundred crowns, with the
intimation that if I needed them another hundred was ready for me. The
sum, however, was more than ample, and giving Jacopo further
directions to engage a couple of lackeys I sent him away, rejoicing at
my good fortune, with a present of ten crowns for himself, which the
honest fellow at first refused to take, and only accepted on my
pressing the sum on him.

This being done there was nothing left for me but to await the dinner
hour, and I strolled down to the stables to look at the horses, which
were in truth in such luxury as perhaps the poor beasts had never
enjoyed. A groom of the cardinal's establishment had attended to them,
and I slipped a piece of silver into his hand for his trouble. He bit
this to test whether it was genuine or not, and then settled himself
on a heap of hay to mend some saddlery.

I left him to his occupation, and, with a parting caress to my beasts,
moved further on to look at the other animals. And here, meeting the
head groom, I had some conversation with him, admiring the cardinal's
stud.

"Yes, excellency," he said, "they are good horses, notably the two
barbs which the Soldan Djem presented to his eminence, but there are
other two now in our stables, belonging to the Sieur de Bayard, the
like of which I have never seen. They are this way, excellency, if you
will but accompany me."

I readily assented, and passing by the barbs, whose slight delicate
frames belied their powers of speed and endurance, we came to a couple
of stalls, in which there were a pair of war-horses that fully
justified the head groom's praise. They were both English, and I
recognised the breed, as Hawkwood had brought three or four with him
from Britain, saying, and with truth, that they were the only animals
that could ever carry him when in full mail. But the two before me in
the stables were as superior to Hawkwood's as a barb is to a mule. One
was the great bay Bayard was riding on the day of my trial, when he
accompanied the duke and his staff back to Arezzo. The other was a
blue roan, whose colour did not show off his size to advantage, but
whose broad chest, sloping shoulders, and lean flanks marked his
power. His eyes were mild and soft, yet full of fire, and his small
head was set like that of a stag upon his strong neck. Two grooms,
bearing on their liveries the arms of the house of Terrail, of which
the Seigneur de Bayard was chief, were in attendance, and set to work
with a somewhat unnecessary zeal on our appearance to polish the coats
of their charges which already shone like satin. Whilst engaged in
admiring these splendid animals, I heard the deep bay of the hound
behind me, and turning, saw Bayard himself who had come to visit his
favourites. I complimented him on the possession of two such steeds,
as who would not have done, and Bayard said--

"Yes, they are fine animals, truly the finest I have ever seen, except
perhaps the one-eyed Savoy, who was also of the same breed; and yet I
am not sure," and he ran his eyes over the horses. "They were given to
me, along with Bran here"--he touched the head of the hound--"by His
Majesty, Henry of England, when I was taken prisoner in the English
War."

"A noble gift."

"Yes--from a noble prince. And you really admire them, cavaliere?"

"Yes--and I knew Savoy too, and doubt if he was better."

"What can knight want more? A good horse, a good hound,"--and his face
saddened a little--"a true love. _Pardieu!_ but I must see to that
last. My castle on the Garonne needs a chatelaine."

I said nothing, knowing of the one great sorrow of his life, which he
bore so bravely, and which I knew had bitten to his heart for all his
gay words.

"Castor and Pollux I call them," he said, indicating the horses with a
slight gesture. "Not that they are alike, except in speed and courage;
but that they are both supposed to have been born the same day, and
have never been separated. The best of friends must, however, part,
and a knight wants no more than one horse; so, cavaliere, if you will
accept Castor, the blue roan there, you will find that he will never
fail you."

I could hardly speak for the moment, and at first stoutly refused to
take so valuable a gift; but Bayard would have no denial, and the
short of it was that Castor was led into one of the stalls reserved
for me.

To say that I was grateful would be to say very little; but I will
merely add here that the gift itself was only equalled by the manner
of the giver. I accompanied Bayard into the garden, which lay to the
west of the palace, and in course of conversation told him that I had
received the sum sent by D'Amboise, and of the steps I had taken to
get together a few men, and assured him that whatever the task was
that I was to be set to perform, nothing but death itself would cut
short my endeavour. Our talk then drifted to other matters, and he
gave me some information of interest concerning Madame D'Entrangues.
It appeared that D'Entrangues, who had a friend at court in his
kinsman, Etienne de Vesci, the seneschal of Beauçaire, had forwarded a
strong petition against Tremouille's decision regarding himself, and a
prayer that the king would restore him to his position, and compel
Madame D'Entrangues to return to him. As if he himself had not
abandoned her! Owing to his influence with Cesare he had moreover
obtained an order from Alexander denying madame the refuge of a
convent. Louis had, however, declined to interfere with Tremouille's
decision, but had ordered madame to leave the court and return to her
husband. Fearing that force would be resorted to in order to compel
her to return to D'Entrangues she had fled from the protection of the
Duchesse de la Tremouille, who denied all knowledge of her movements,
and the matter stood there. By this time it was almost approaching the
dinner hour, and we separated, Bayard, followed close at his heels by
Bran, going to seek the cardinal, and I returning to my chamber, where
I found Jacopo who had just come back. He had been to the stables on
his way up, and was loud in his praise of Castor.

"They say he is fleet as the wind, excellency, and he is as gentle as
a lambkin. It is a glorious steed, and a princely gift."

"It is so; but what success have you had?"

"None as yet about the swords, signore; there has not been time; but I
have engaged a couple of grooms and a lackey, and ordered plain
liveries for them. The grooms are even now with the horses, and the
lackey will be here to-morrow."

"Very well, there is time enough. Basta! There go the trumpets. His
eminence must be served."

We made our way to the dining-hall, entering it almost at the same
time as the cardinal, his guests, and the rest of the suite. At the
high table on the _daïs_ sat the cardinal, with Bayard, another prince
of the church whom I afterwards found out was the Cardinal of
Strigonia, a scion of the house of Este, and a tall, sombre-looking
man, with high aquiline features, and a complexion almost as dark as a
Moor's. He was plainly and simply dressed, wearing a light steel
corselet over his jerkin, and round his neck the ribbon of St. James
of Compostella, whilst the order itself, a red enamel sword with a
_fleur-de-lis hilt_, set in an oval white enamel medallion with a red
border, studded with brilliants, flashed at his throat. His short,
closely-cropped hair was white as snow, but the long moustache which
dropped over his mouth and short, pointed beard, was untouched by a
streak of grey. Altogether a remarkable man, one whom no one could
pass by without looking at twice; and in me he excited the greatest
interest, for he was none other than Ganalvo de Cordova, the "Great
Captain," and the most skilful general of the age. He had only a few
weeks before driven Marshal d'Aubigny out of Calabria, and was
marching straight on against Tremouille, when the cessation of
hostilities stopped his plans, and suddenly resigning his command he
had come to Rome, for what purpose no one knew, although it was said
that his resignation and difference with the Spanish Court was but a
blind.

Be that as it may, I had now an opportunity of seeing together, seated
side by side, the dark and stern grandee of Spain, as able as he was
cruel, as vindictive as he was brave; and the brilliant and polished
Bayard, who seemed to have gathered in his person all the noblest
qualities of knighthood, and on the white shield of whose honour there
was never a stain. And how different was the fate of these two men! De
Cordova, after holding the highest offices, after being practically a
king, after shedding an imperishable glory on his country by his
victories, and staining her memory indelibly by his perfidy, died at
last, with all his fine spun webs broken. And Bayard--old as I am, my
eyes grow moist when I think of that glorious day at the passage of
the Sesia, when, covered with wounds, overborne by numbers, and
fighting to the last against hopeless odds, Pierre du Terrail gave
back his soul to God. But long years were to pass before this
happened, and Bayard was at present in the hey-dey of his career.

The table for the gentlemen of the suite was placed just below the
_daïs_, and extending further down the room were other tables, for all
who could obtain seats thereat, whilst at the extreme end of the room
was a high stand, whence any one was at liberty to bear away as much
of a meal as he could carry off on the point of his dagger.

Estimating roughly, I should say that fully three hundred persons
dined daily, in this manner, with D'Amboise, and this hospitality,
which he exercised in the manner of a French feudal noble, was the
subject of much amusement at the Papal Court, where they prided
themselves on a more refined and delicate style of living. At any
rate, all that was here was safe to touch, and no one had need to fear
that a dinner at the Palazzo Corneto with the Cardinal of Rouen was a
prelude to a supper with St. Peter in heaven. His eminence, who was a
notable trencherman, beamed down from his high seat on us all, and
tried valiantly to assay conclusions with the Cardinal of Strigonia;
but was compelled at last to own himself beaten, for Ippolyte d'Este
was one in a thousand at table; in fact, this jovial prelate ended his
days suddenly, after a prodigious dinner, which began at eleven in the
morning and ended at four in the afternoon, concluding with so light a
dainty as a dish of roasted cray-fish, washed down with a bottle of
vernaccia, a wine of which he was inordinately fond. At our own table,
there were about a dozen or more, and I found myself seated next to
St. Armande, whilst opposite to me was Le Clerc, the cardinal's
chaplain, and next to him an officer of the Papal Guards, a Spaniard,
who spoke little and ate much. St. Armande passed by the wine,
drinking only water, and in reply to a question of mine answered that
he was under a vow.

"We can absolve you here easily, chevalier," said Le Clerc, who
overheard the remark, "here is some Orvieto which I can recommend,"
and he pushed the flask towards St. Armande.

The latter, however, would not be tempted, and Le Clerc shook his
head.

"A wilful man must have his way, chevalier; but that Orvieto was a
present from Pierrot, Our Lord's most favoured servant."

"Indeed," said the Spaniard; "then I can safely say it is the last
present you will receive from Don Pierrot."

"How so?"

"Cesare arrived last night, very suddenly, with two men only, they
say. He has not, however, yet seen His Holiness--although he is in the
Vatican."

Le Clerc remained silent, but St. Armande asked in his low voice--

"I do not follow, sir. Could you not explain? Unless I ask too much.
You see I am a stranger to Rome."

The Spaniard smiled grimly.

"It means, chevalier, that Pierrot was found this morning with a
dagger sticking up to the hilt in his heart."

St. Armande turned pale, and Le Clerc asked in a low tone--

"Are you sure of this? When did it happen?"

"As sure as I sit here. It happened an hour or so after Cesare's
coming. The Pope is said to be overcome with grief," and the lips of
Don Diego de Leyva took a sarcastic curve.

"Great heavens!" said Le Clerc. "Poor Pierrot!"

The chaplain rose from his seat with a slight apology, and approaching
D'Amboise, leaned over him and whispered a few words in his ear. The
cardinal nodded with apparent unconcern, and Le Clerc came back; but
watching D'Amboise narrowly, I saw that although he still appeared to
laugh and jest, his eyes were grave and his brow troubled. In fact,
shortly afterwards, the high table broke up, and we followed suit very
soon. Despite his effeminate appearance, I had begun to take a liking
to St. Armande, and as the next few hours were at our disposal, I
invited him to ride out with me, as I had a mind to try Castor's
paces. This, however, he declined, with the somewhat shy air that
marked his manner, and leaving him to his devices, I ordered Castor to
be saddled and took him out. When I returned, about five in the
afternoon, I felt that all that had been said of the generous beast I
rode, underrated his value, and that I possessed a matchless steed,
who was fit to run for a kingdom.




                             CHAPTER XVI.

                            FRIEND OR FOE.


For the next few days the routine of my life was exactly the same, the
morning attendance at the cardinal's levée, the daily dinner in
public, and long rides with Castor in the afternoons, in which I was
sometimes accompanied by St. Armande; but this was not always
possible, as he was closely attached to D'Amboise's person. D'Amboise
frequently asked me to accompany him to the Vatican; but up to now I
had begged permission to decline his invitation, on the plea that,
with the business before me, it would perhaps be well for me to
live as much in retreat as possible. The cardinal said, with that
good-tempered laugh of his, which entirely belied his astute scheming
nature, that as I was as yet ignorant of my task, I need not be so
careful. I replied to his eminence, that it was just because I was in
the dark, that I was so circumspect, and he was then good enough to
agree with me. I was, however, naturally anxious to see something of
the Vatican, and one of my reasons for refusing, besides that of
prudence, was that I was not sufficiently well equipped. This,
however, with the funds at my disposal, was soon mended, but from some
cause or other, I had up to now not gone. Jacopo was not so successful
as he anticipated he would be, in raising his men. It was, above all,
necessary to have them trustworthy, and it was difficult to get men of
this class for a merely temporary employment such as I offered. At
last the matter was arranged, and by the end of the week I mustered a
body of six stout fellows, all of them fairly well mounted, and what
was better, all of them trained soldiers. I had them lodged near the
Ripetta, and the cardinal's table afforded them a free dinner, of
which they were not slow to take advantage. In order to keep them
employed, I took them out with me every afternoon, dismissing them
upon my return, with orders to join the nightly escort of the cardinal
and Bayard, to and from the Vatican. I saw a good deal of Bayard, and
at times expressed myself with impatience at being kept to cool my
heels. He told me he was not at liberty to mention the details of the
business on which I was to be employed, and advised me to bide my time
with a patient heart. Amongst other matters we spoke of was the murder
of Pierrot, and Bayard told me that Cesare Borgia had left Rome the
next day without seeing his father, the Pope, and that he was crushing
out completely the stand made against him by my old chief Vitelli of
Citta del Castello, and others.

I took Bayard's advice and held patience by the tail, although I
longed for work to begin. My men were in good fettle. They had enough
work to keep them out of mischief, the pay was good, they had
sufficient leisure for amusement, and there was therefore no
grumbling.

I used to sup alone in my rooms, occasionally asking St. Armande to
join me; and after supper we diced together for an hour or so, for
very small points. He was an infant at the game, and I taught him a
good deal, so much so, that after a little practice, for he was very
quick with his wrist, he mastered my favourite throw, and one evening
after returning from the Vatican, he knocked me up in my rooms, and
flung on the table a bag of gold pieces.

"Three hundred of them, cavaliere!" he said, "I won them from Fabrizio
Colonna, who is looking green with rage. If your purse is running
short, they are at your service. Ha! I see a flask of Orvieto--may I?"
and he poured himself out a goblet, at which he began to sip, in
apparent defiance of his vow.

"The devil!" I exclaimed, "but you are flying at high stakes,
chevalier. Your Picard estates must be broad. Thanks all the same for
your offer, but my purse is as full as I want it at present."

He leaned back in his chair, with a pink flush on his delicate
features.

"I meant no offence, cavaliere; but what is the use of money unless
one can share it with a friend?"

"There was no offence taken, St. Armande," I replied, "and if you will
take none, I would like to have my say at you."

He looped one finger in his golden moustache, and showed his even
teeth in his smile, as he said, "Speak on."

"Then, chevalier, it seems to me a thousand pities that a young man
like you should waste your time here, as you appear to be doing. I
understood you to say you had never seen a sword drawn in earnest as
yet--and your moustache is grown! Take my advice. Play no more for
gold pieces with Colonna or anyone else. Mount your horse, and join
Tremouille at once."

"Ah! that is good," he said; "and why does the grave and reverend
Cavaliere Donati waste his time here, hanging at the heels of a
churchman, and moping o' nights like an owl on a ruined wall, instead
of stirring the times himself with the point of his sword?"

With any other I would have been annoyed; with the youth before me I
was slightly amused, and at the same time a trifle surprised. Hitherto
he had appeared so shy and reserved, and now, of a sudden, he had
thrown this off, and had put on an air which I had not noticed before,
but which became him vastly. I set it down to the fact that perhaps he
was slightly warmed with wine, having apparently absolved himself from
his vow; although of course I did not appear to notice this last, as
he was in a manner my guest. I therefore made reply.

"My reasons for my action, chevalier, are good, and when the time
comes I promise you I shall not be found sleeping."

The gentle reproof in my words seemed to bring him back to his old
self, for by the light of the candles I observed him flush scarlet,
and that curious look which recalled a strange resemblance to some one
I knew, but could not remember, came over his features. I began to
relent as I saw his confusion, almost as soon as I had spoken; and
added, "I may say that the time is not far distant--that it is a
matter of days only."

"Take me with you."

He asked this almost in a tone of entreaty, keeping his eyes away from
me, however, and nervously twisting at his moustache.

"And your secretary, as you call him, the abbé?"

"Oh, he will come too, and we could confess to him."

I hesitated for a second, and then made answer.

"Very well. Only you must be prepared to start at a moment's notice,
and there will probably be hard riding and hard fighting, and there is
yet another thing."

"What is that?"

"You must come as a simple volunteer, and must make no enquiry as to
what the business is on which I am engaged. I risk my life for my own
purposes; if you wish to do likewise you are welcome to join me, on
the condition I have just stated."

"I accept with pleasure."

"Then that is settled, and I have a new comrade."

"Hurrah!" and he raised his glass to his lips.

After that he retired, it being late. I saw him across the courtyard
as far as his apartments, and then returning to my rooms,
unconsciously took the chair St. Armande had vacated. The goblet of
wine he had filled was before me, and I idly lifted it in my hand. It
was barely touched. In fact he could but have tasted a few drops only.

Like lightning a suspicion of treachery came on me. The man had been
pretending to drink. With what object? I could not make out. Was the
offer of the money a blind? Perhaps so, and if then? I had been a fool
to agree to his joining me, with that sour-looking abbé of his. Yes, I
had been a fool, but it was lucky I discovered my own folly in time. I
should keep my eyes on this silken diplomat, and if necessary pick a
quarrel with him, and run him through. Somehow I did not like the idea
of this, however; but determined to get rid of him in one way or the
other. I would allow nothing to stand between me and the road back to
honour. So musing I sat for a half-hour or so, and was startled by
Jacopo's sudden entry, so lost was I in thought. He came and stood,
bolt upright, next to my chair, without saying a word. I knew from
this that he had some request to make, some favour to ask, as
otherwise he would not have hesitated to make play with his tongue at
once.

"What is it Jacopo?"

He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and then replied--

"Your excellency, I want leave."

"Leave! What for? You are not going to be married, are you?"

"Heaven and the saints forbid, excellency. No--no--it is not that, it
is only leave for the day I want, and also for our men."

"The devil! What are you going to do?"

"Only a little dinner, excellency, which I am giving."

"And wasting those crowns you got the other day. Well, that is your
affair, not mine. Yes, you can have the leave."

"A hundred thanks, excellency."

"Mind you, there must be no brawling, no trouble."

"Excellency."

"Well, good night, and remember what I say. Here, you might remove
this wine-cup as you go."

"Good-night, signore," and Jacopo, lifting the goblet, went out. The
night being fairly warm, I kept my door open, and as he passed into
the portico, I saw him drain the contents of the goblet with a gulp,
and heard him draw his lips together with a smack of approval, and
march off to his quarters, chuckling at something or other.

The following afternoon I rode out with Bayard and half-a-dozen
others. It was a hawking party, and there was a long gallop to our
point of operation, which was to begin a little way beyond Ponte
Molle. In a short time we started a noble heron, and Bayard flinging
his peregrine into the air, we rode after the birds. It was a glorious
ride, and Castor and Pollux far outstripped the others, so much so
that when we drew rein beside the stricken heron, and Bayard slipped
the hood on to his hawk, our companions were not in sight. This,
however, troubled us little, and turning rein we made backwards. On
our way back I seized the opportunity to mention to Bayard that St.
Armande had volunteered to aid me in my task, and that I had accepted
his offer.

"It will do him good," he said; "he seems a noble youth, who has been
tied too long to apron-strings."

"Do you think so?" I said; "he strikes me as being effeminate to a
degree--and yet I cannot help liking him."

"He has a wonderful pure mind," said Bayard; "the boy, for he is no
less, is as innocent as a child."

"The Vatican will not improve him then, especially if he plays for
gold crowns with Colonna."

"Plays for gold crowns!" exclaimed Bayard; "you are surely mistaken,
cavaliere."

"Did he not do so last night, my lord? I understood he won three
hundred off Fabrizio?"

"Impossible," said Bayard, "I was at the Vatican last night, and the
party in which Colonna was playing consisted of Strigonia, Monsignore
Florido, our Lord the Pope, and Colonna himself--no more. St. Armande
was standing hard at hand for some little time, but never took a
wager. In fact, he passed most of the evening with Giulia Bella,
thrumming on a lute, much to the annoyance of his holiness. I should
say it would be well for him to quit Rome."

"Then I am wrong," I said; "yes, I fancy it would be well for him to
quit Rome."

By this time the others came up, and we said no more. As we went back
to Rome, I dropped a little behind, reflecting on what Bayard had told
me. It was certain that St. Armande had lied to me, and I began to
feel sure he had done this not for my good. In short, it seemed to me
that this innocent looking boy, with his shy retiring manners and
apparent want of knowledge of the world, was nothing more or less than
an accomplished actor. Then again he was a Frenchman, and how came he,
obviously fresh from France, to become an agent of the Medici
plotters, for so I put him down to be? There were the letters from
Madame de la Tremouille, his introductions were unimpeachable, the
cardinal believed in him--the whole thing was contradictory. Above
all, there was my strong personal liking for St. Armande. In his
presence I never felt that secret warning which all men feel when they
are with an enemy. I have never known it fail with me, and with St.
Armande there was no such warning, no such silent signal which goes
straight from soul to soul. On the contrary, I felt he was almost more
than friendly towards me, and I felt, in my turn towards him, despite
our short acquaintance, very nearly the same protective feeling that
one has towards a defenceless child. As may be imagined, I was in no
very comfortable frame of mind about this, and rode back silently,
revolving the point. When we reached the palace, almost the first
person I met was St. Armande, and as I dismounted he came up to me
with a cordial greeting and asked--

"Well, cavaliere, good sport I trust?"

"Very," I replied shortly, and then looked him straight in the face as
I added, "Do you intend to give the Colonna his revenge to-night?"

Something in my tone caught him, he met my eyes for a moment, then
dropped his gaze, and looked towards the ground. We stood thus before
each other for a little time before he replied, and his voice was
almost inaudible.

"Perhaps--I am not sure," he added with an effort.

I was standing, holding Castor's reins; but as he spoke I handed the
horse over to a groom, and, linking my arm in St. Armande's, said
loudly, and with a tone of affected gaiety:

"You missed a great ride, chevalier--come take a turn with me in the
garden."

He yielded passively, and in a few steps we had crossed the courtyard
and were in a secluded portion of the palace gardens that was called
the Lemon Walk. This I may add was subsequently improved out of
existence by the architect, in the course of completion of the palace
and grounds. When we reached this spot I unslipped my arm, and turning
round faced St. Armande, having resolved to end my suspicions.

"See here, chevalier," I said, "I am playing for heavy stakes, I am
walking on dangerous ground, and must know where I put my feet; will
you answer a plain question, are you friend or foe?"

He looked round him in a helpless sort of way, his colour coming and
going, but said nothing. Was it possible the man was a coward?

"If you do not reply," I said, "I will take the risk, and treat you as
an enemy, do you hear? you lied to me when you said last night you had
played at the Vatican with Colonna--now draw." I pulled out my weapon,
and stood before him, expecting every instant to see his rapier in his
hands; but he stood absolutely still, his head hanging down.

"Man," I said, "have you not heard? Am I to think you a coward as well
as a liar?"

"How dare you say that!" he burst out. "You--you of all men--Oh! what
am I saying! Yes, I did not play with Colonna; but I thought you were
hard pressed for money, and--and invented the fiction, thinking that
perhaps----"

"That perhaps I would accept your winnings over the gambling table,
rather than the offer of a friend. You do me much honour, chevalier."

"You wrong me, Savelli,--nay, start not. I know your name and story,
and, before heaven, I say I am your friend."

"You know me!"

"Yes, and am working for you; come, put by your sword. Look at me! Do
I look like an enemy?"

He had recovered himself, and met my gaze fearlessly. Where could I
have seen that face before? I drew my hand over my forehead as if to
sweep the cobwebs from my memory, but with no avail.

"Well," he went on, with a smile, "do I look like an enemy? If I do,
your sword is ready. Strike now, it will be a quick riddance, come!"

I put back my sword with a snap.

"I do not understand, but I accept your explanation."

He held out his hand frankly.

"That is right, and you will still let me be your comrade?"

I took his grasp.

"Yes, if you wish it."

We walked back together in silence, and on reaching the courtyard St.
Armande said,

"I am afraid I have fallen much in your esteem."

"My esteem, chevalier, is at present of no value to man or woman."

"Do you think so?" he said, and then rapidly, "Adieu for the present;
remember, I hold you to your word that you think me a friend."

I made no answer, and he ran lightly up the steps of the principal
entrance.

I supped that evening for a change with the gentlemen of the suite;
but St. Armande was not there, and there were a few free remarks made
concerning the manner in which he was supposed to have been received
at the Vatican by Giulia Orsini, and Lucrezia Borgia.

"If it goes on like this," said Le Clerc, "we will have to drag the
Tiber for his body, and say masses for his soul, unless he puts the
seas between himself and the Borgia."

"He never struck me as a man to run after the ladies," I said.

"No," replied the abbé, "but it is the other way. You would stand no
chance against him, cavalier, for all your long moustache--a thousand
thanks," and the genial Le Clerc seized the flagon of Orvieto I passed
to him, and filled his goblet.

After this the conversation changed, and I shortly retired to my
apartments, and dismissing my lackey, sat down to read a book on
falconry that the cardinal had lent me. I had not been occupied thus
for an hour when the door opened, and Jacopo cautiously peeped in. He
withdrew his head on catching my eye, and I heard him shuffling
outside.

"Come in."

"Excellency," and the sound of further shuffling, but no Jacopo. I
lost patience at this, and fearing at the same time that there had
been trouble, repeated my order to come in sharply. This had the
desired effect; but as soon as my henchman appeared in view I made
certain there had been a brawl. He was very red in the face, and from
under the helmet he wore I could see a white bandage.

"What the devil does this mean, Jacopo?" I asked sternly.

"I have come to report, excellency."

"You hardly appear in a fit state to do so."

"Perfectly fit, excellency," and Jacopo drew himself up to attention
and saluted.

"Is the matter of importance? For if not, you had better come
to-morrow."

"Yes, your excellency--matter of importance. By your worship's leave,
as you are aware, I gave a dinner to-day, and we had----"

"Never mind what you had; to the point."

"Boiled meat with sause, sausages with garlic, a _risotto alla
Milanese_----"

"I do not care what you had, go on fool."

"I am going on, excellency. Where was I--a _risotto_ did I say? And
bread made with yeast. And for drink, signore----"

"I doubt not you had store of that, Jacopo."

"But a dozen flagons or so of wine, your worship--all rosso."

"Jacopo--you will be good enough to retire at once."

"I am retiring, excellency; but my report."

"Will do for to-morrow."

"As your worship desires; but we have burnt the inn."

"What!"

"The inn, where we rested the day of our arrival in Rome, your
worship. What with one thing and another, the landlord footed up his
bill to four crowns. And I said to my friends, 'What! Are honest
soldiers to pay like this?' Whereat there was trouble, excellency; but
we came off best."

I rose without a word, and seizing Jacopo by the neck, ejected him
from the room, with, I am sorry to say, very considerable violence.

Cursing myself for my folly in having been so generous, I banged the
door after him, and returned to my book. I could not, however, read,
for my mind was full of the consequences that might arise from this
mad freak of my followers, and I determined to seek out the cardinal
the next day, and obtain his permission to move out of Rome to some
quieter spot, and there await his instructions. Amidst it all,
however, I could not help being pleased at the thought that
retributive justice had overtaken the scoundrel tavern-keeper, the
memory of whose bed made me shudder. I had no doubt that Jacopo was
speaking the truth, and that, even as he spoke, the flames were
sputtering merrily above that den of thieves.




                            CHAPTER XVII.

                             THE VATICAN.


The next morning I sought an early interview with D'Amboise, and
stated to him what had occurred, proposing that I should leave Rome at
once, and await his instructions at any point he should fix. To my
surprise he did not regard the matter in so serious a light, saying
that a small fine would no doubt settle the matter. "My dear
cavaliere," he said, "Our Lord does not desire the death of a sinner,
but only his purse. Make your mind easy, but keep a tighter hand on
your men."

"I shall assuredly do so, your eminence."

"Another thing. I think you will have to put aside your shyness, and
attend me to the Vatican for the next few days. It is extraordinary
how suspicious the Court here is. They keep a constant watch on me,
and on all the suite, and your seclusion, and solitary rides out, have
been the subject of remark. The ladies too are taking interest in you.
In fact I have been specially asked to bring you with me, by Madonna
Lucrezia, all owing to a foolish remark made by Strigonia."

"I am at your eminence's orders."

"It is a little risk, but I do not want them to think that you are
anything but a mere member of my suite. If there were the slightest
suspicion, all my plans would be upset, and the time is at hand now, a
day or two at the outside."

"Thank God! I am eating my heart out here."

"Courage, cavaliere! It will end soon. By the way, is Bayard right in
saying you have enlisted St. Armande?"

"Yes, your eminence."

"_Ciel!_ I should not have thought he would have been one for your
purpose. But that is your affair," and he began to laugh.

"I have seven good swords behind me, your eminence. The chevalier may
or may not do well; but I could hardly refuse his request."

D'Amboise made no answer, and our interview came to a close. I would,
however, add here that nothing ever came of the burning of the inn. No
complaint was ever laid, as far as I could find out, and the matter
might have been an every-day occurrence, so little attention did it
excite. I of course did not know that affairs had reached to such a
pitch of disorder in Rome, and lived in hourly expectation,
notwithstanding the cardinal's speech, of having considerable worry
over the revengeful zeal of Jacopo. I took care that no such thing was
likely to occur again, and Master Jacopo was penitent, swearing he
would never give me further cause for annoyance. At the _levée_, that
morning, St. Armande was, as usual, beside me, and I whispered to him
to hold himself in readiness, as the time for our business was at
hand.

"I am glad of that," he answered, his face lighting up.

"I attend the cardinal to-day to the Vatican," I said, by way of
continuing the conversation.

"There will be much going on this evening," he made reply. "The
Florentine envoy has been here for the past two days, and the affair
at the Vatican to-night is in his honour. Do you know that you have
excited great curiosity in the hearts of the court ladies?"

"Indeed? It is not my way."

"Is it not? Well, Lucrezia expressed a particular desire to see you."

"I trust it may not lead to the Tiber, chevalier. The attentions of
the Lady Lucrezia are a trifle dangerous."

His face became very grave.

"Be civil to her, nothing more," he whispered. "You are quite right.
Oh, how I hate that place!"--and he shivered a little.

"Well, we will soon be out of it."

"Please God!"

There was no one at the high table at dinner that day, both the
cardinal and Bayard having gone to dine with Sforza at the Sforza
Cesarini, quite an informal business, and none of the suite
accompanied them.

The conversation at our table turned much on affairs, and as there
were for once no guests, speech was very free.

"The fleur-de-lis will cover our tongues," said Le Clerc, "and to-day
we may let them wag."

"Then how long is this truce to last?" asked De Briconnet, the captain
of the cardinal's guard. "I am sick of this idleness here," he added.

"As for that, no man knows whether it is peace or war," replied Le
Clerc. "Tremouille is chafing at Passignano, swearing that the game
was ours if we had only let him march on after Fossombrone, and he was
right. Now Cesare has stamped out the Magione league, and the Borgia
are as strong as ever."

"How came such a man as Roderigo Borgia ever to be made pope?" I
asked.

Le Clerc laughed as he passed on the Orvieto.

"When our Lord, the sainted Innocent, was called away, there were
three favourites in the conclave. One was Giuliano della Rovere, the
other Ascanio Sforza, and the third Roderigo Borgia. His eminence of
St. Sabine's was our man, and the election would have been certain had
not Borgia and Ascanio joined hands and the Milanese voted for
Roderigo."

"I did not think Sforza would have been so self-sacrificing," said De
Briconnet.

"There were compensations, Jacques," Le Clerc went on. "Four
mule-loads of gold were given to Ascanio, he was made vice-chancellor
of the church, and given Borgia's own palace, the Cesarini, where his
eminence dines to-day. Immediately after the elections were made I was
at the rota exchanging a few words with your uncle, the cardinal of
St. Malo, and he told me that as soon as the result was known, Medici
turned to Cardinal Cibo, and said, 'We are in the jaws of the wolf!
Heaven grant that he may not devour us!' As for Borgia he could do
nothing but walk about, calling out, 'I am Pope, Pontiff, Vicar of
Christ!'"

"I do not suppose it can last long," said De Briconnet.

"Heaven knows. He is close upon seventy-one and grows younger every
day. He is as strong as he was thirty years ago. And there are few men
who can sit a horse as he can, even now."

"That is true," I remarked, and gave the story of my meeting with the
Borgia on the day of my arrival in Rome.

Shortly after this our dinner, where speech had been so free, broke
up, and, finding out the hour at which the cardinal would require my
attendance, I took my book on falconry, and repaired to the garden,
intending to pass the afternoon in its perusal. I made for the Lemon
Walk, and found a companion in Bran, who was wandering there in a
disconsolate manner, evidently missing his master. I set myself down
on a sheltered seat, Bran stretching out his length at my feet, his
muzzle resting between his paws, and so we remained in quiet, the dog
absolutely motionless, and I engaged in my book.

So an hour must have passed, when Bran gave a low growl, and looking
up I ran my eye up and down the walk, but could see nothing. I then
followed the direction in which the dog was gazing, and through the
leaves opposite to me, saw a stretch of green, terminating in a clump
of three huge chestnuts. A further examination showed two figures
standing in the shade of the trees, one of them was St. Armande, and
the other, his secretary, the abbé. But what surprised me, was that
the chevalier appeared to be overcome with some powerful emotion, for
he was leaning with his arm against the trunk of the tree, against
which his face was pressed, and his figure shook as if he were
weeping. The abbé stood by him, with a look of compassion on his
features, and was endeavouring to pacify him.

It was clear that I was looking at something I was not intended to
see, and with a low, "Quiet, Bran," to the dog, which the well-trained
beast instantly obeyed, I rose, and whistling a catch loudly, walked
down the avenue, with my back towards St. Armande and the abbé, Bran
stalking by my side. I did not look round, and of course could not
tell what happened, but I could not help wondering what it was that
affected St. Armande so strongly. It was hardly the place for the
confessional. Yet it was no business of mine to pry into other
people's affairs. So handing over Bran to a lackey of Bayard, I went
up to my apartment, and attempted to resume my interest in my book.

This, however, was not possible, for in a few minutes I found myself
with the volume in my lap, my eyes staring into vacancy, and thinking
of St. Armande. I began to try and analyse my feelings towards him,
but beyond that I was certain he had inspired me with a strong
friendship I could go no further. It was this friendship that urged me
to accede to his request to be allowed to share in my coming
adventure, although I was well able to see that he was anything but
fitted for a desperate deed. Still somehow, I could not find it in my
heart to refuse him, although I felt I was doing an unwise thing. I
consoled myself, or rather tried to console myself, with the
reflection that he would have to take his chance like any other man of
my troop, and if he fell, well, there was an end of it, and of him.
Yet I was not comfortable, and then, to give my thoughts another turn,
I bent them on other matters, and it came to my mind that it was a
little surprising I had not heard of D'Entrangues in Rome.

When Bayard told me of his petition to the king, I had asked whether
anything was known of D'Entrangues' movements, and he said he did not
know. It was curious, too, how I appeared to have entirely mastered
that mad longing for revenge, which at first held me. It was a direct
answer, as it were, to my prayer, and, so thinking, I began to realise
how close in reality a man is to the divine power, which he often, too
often, thinks far from him. And a certain feeling of satisfaction came
upon me at the thought of the strength I had gained by my victory over
myself. Indeed, I felt sure, that if my enemy was in my power at the
moment that I would not injure him, but let him go without harm.

In this manner, attempting to read, and trying to think, without very
much success in either undertaking, I passed my time until my lackey
came to assist me to dress, in order to be ready to accompany the
cardinal to the Vatican. After dressing, I descended the stairs, and
mounting Castor, placed myself at the head of my men, and joined De
Briconnet at the grand entrance of the palace. The captain of the
cardinal's guard had his full force of thirty swords out, it being a
reception night of some importance, and with great courtesy allowed me
to place Jacopo and my six men in front of his troop, drawing his own
horse alongside of mine, and discussing, with much cunning, of
falconry, in which he was more than an adept.

We had to wait some little time for the cardinal, but at length he
came, accompanied as usual by Bayard, and with him all the gentlemen
of his suite including St. Armande. On reaching the foot of the
stairs, D'Amboise enquired somewhat sharply for me; but changed his
tone to one of pleasant greeting when he saw I was in waiting.

"St. Dennis!" he exclaimed, "I thought you were not coming after all."

We had but a few yards to ride, and our passage along the Via
Alessandrina to the Portone Bronse, took but a few minutes. As we rode
up there, we kept the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza di S. Pietro
to our left, and saw before us the walls of the new cathedral of St.
Peter, then about four or five feet high, the ruins of the old church
still standing around it. At the time I speak of, nothing had been
done for about fifty years towards advancing the work, begun by
Nicholas V., and the great design, afterwards altered and put into
execution by Giuliano della Rovere, when he became Pope as Julius II.,
was then in a skeleton form, looking more like the remains of some
sacked shrine than the beginning of a new work. The fifty years of
neglect having the effect of making the new work almost as ruinous as
the old church founded by Constantine.

Although, as I have mentioned, there were to be great doings at the
Vatican that evening, there was no crowd assembled in the Piazza of
St. Peter. It was full of soldiers, but the people of Rome, who might
have been expected to be there in numbers, to see the processions
of nobles and their followers, were conspicuous by their absence.
Men-at-arms there were in store, but no happy, jostling crowd of the
commons, for a terror was on Rome, and men kept as far as possible
from the Borgo. The piazza was, however, brilliantly lit up, and the
body guards of the various notables were strictly confined to the
places assigned to them, order being maintained by about a thousand
men of the Spanish guards of the Pope, under the immediate command of
De Leyva. The light from the lamps was reflected back by the
glittering arms of the men, and the various ensigns of the great
houses were distinctly visible. The single column of Colonna, rose
side by side with the eagle and griffin of Borghese, the six lilies of
Farnese trembled in the wind, near Colleoni's two-headed lion, and a
little in the background was drawn up a solid looking body of cavalry,
over whom fluttered the standard of the Borgia; these were Cesare's
own lambs, as he called them, veterans of many a hard fought field.

At the entrance steps we halted, and were met by two chamberlains,
who, with their staffs of office in their hands, ushered us to the
bronze gates, by which we were to enter the Vatican. We passed through
amidst a blare of trumpets, each side of the passage being lined with
pikemen, standing stiff and motionless as statues. Our way led to the
Torre Borgia, the portion of the Vatican occupied by Alexander, and
the distant strains of music caught our ears as we went on, and
shortly entered the noble reception rooms, which were crowded with
people.

The Pope himself stood at the extreme end of the apartment, surrounded
by a brilliant group of ladies and gentlemen, and as we came up to
make our duty, I had good opportunity of observing him. Alexander was
fully seventy years of age, but so hale, hearty, and strong-looking,
that he might have easily passed for a man of middle age. He was
dressed as a private gentleman, in Spanish costume, with high boots, a
jewelled dagger at his side, and a smart velvet cap on his head. But
the face itself struck me as remarkable to a degree. He was clean
shaven, so that all the features were clearly discernible, the heavy
sensual chin, the wide cruel mouth, surmounted by a nose almost Jewish
in its curve, the retreating forehead bulging over the eyes, and the
eyes themselves, in which there seemed to burn the fires of insatiable
appetite, and passion without end; all these, combined together to
make up a countenance which was a fitting mask for the evil soul
within. I made my obeisance with the others, stifling with difficulty
a sudden desire to fling aside the hand I touched, and walk out of the
room.

I moved slightly aside, and watched the various groups as they
wandered to and fro, or stood together conversing; and the hum of
voices, the gay strains of music, and the brilliant dresses made up
together a scene well worth the looking at.

The Florentine ambassador was talking to the Cardinal of Santa
Susanna, a few feet from me. I caught the tones of his voice, and as
he turned round our eyes met. Machiavelli, for it was he, glanced at
me as at a perfect stranger, and then, slightly adjusting his purple
lined robe, moved slowly onwards with his companion.

"We mount yet higher, signore---_excelsior!_"

The words were breathed rather than whispered into my ear, and Corte
stood beside me.

"_Excelsior!_" I repeated with a smile, "but are you not putting your
head in the lion's mouth?"

He smiled back upon me, more of a snarl than a smile. "The beast is
gorged now. He will not think of me--see, there is some one coming
your way--adieu!"

He turned and passed into the groups, and St. Armande touched my arm.

"You are to be presented to the Lady Lucrezia," he said, and the next
moment I found myself bowing over the hand of one of the most
beautiful, and certainly the most infamous woman of her age. She was
barely twenty-three; had already wedded three husbands, and was to
become a wife again, and marry Alfonso of Ferrara. She was seated in a
low lounge, and as I came up she extended her hand to me with a
charming smile. Standing before her, looking at her large limpid eyes,
at the small red bow of the lips, and the clear cut features set in a
mass of red gold hair, I could not imagine that the stories I had
heard were true. It could not be that this fair young woman who was
before me had smilingly committed crimes of nameless horror. I would
not believe it.

"So, cavaliere, you have come to the court at last! I thought you were
never going to do us that honour."

"His Eminence of Strigonia said you meant to take the vows," and a
lady, who was leaning over Lucrezia's seat, laughed as she put in
these words. I recognised the peculiar unmusical laugh I had heart at
the gate St. Paul, and glanced at her with some interest.

"My sister-in-law, Giulia Farnese--Giulia Bella, is it not?" and
Lucrezia touched her lightly on the arm.

"Oh, yes, Giulia Bella--and are you really going to become a hermit?"

"I might have had such thoughts until I came here," I said, "but I
must now put them aside."

"Neatly turned, cavaliere--St. Armande himself could not have put it
better--sit here, chevalier," and Lucrezia made room for St. Armande
on her lounge.

At this moment a commotion at the entrance attracted our attention,
and a man robed in black, followed by two others, walked up towards
the Pope.

"Heavens!" said Lucrezia, "it is Cesare!" and a look that was not
sisterly came over her face as she glanced at her brother, who moved
slowly up the room, men falling away from each side of him, and
greeting no one. He kept himself covered, and below his square velvet
cap, I saw a resolute face, the mouth and chin, covered by a moustache
and short beard, not so hidden, however, but that one could distinctly
see against the dark hair on his face, the full red line of the lips,
set in a habitual sneer. Bad as the whole brood of the Borgia were,
this was the worst of them all. He was as far beyond them in infamy as
they were beyond the rest of mankind in evil doing. The very room was
hushed into silence as he entered, and I watched with more interest
than I can tell, the stately figure of this wicked man, as he went up
to meet his only less wicked father. It was their first meeting since
the murder of Pierrot, and Alexander, who stood in dread of his son,
began to tremble violently as he approached, looking this way and
that, as if he would avoid him. At last they came together face to
face, Cesare speaking no word, but lifting his cap with a low bow.
Alexander almost made a motion as if he was wringing his hands; but
recovered himself with an effort, and kissed his son on the cheek.

"So do the devils kiss." Lucrezia spoke these words under her breath,
and I turned sharply round and looked at her. Her eyes fell beneath my
glance of inquiry, and to raise some conversation I addressed Giulia
Bella.

"So that is the Duke of Valentinois?"

"Yes--and the man immediately behind him is Don Michelotto."

"The strangler."

"You use strong terms, sir," the eyes of the Farnese flashed fire, and
Lucrezia added hurriedly--

"Yes, yes--you are right--the strangler."

"Hush, fool!" and Giulia Bella laid her hand on her friend's shoulder.
"See, they come this way--be cool!"

In fact, Cesare had turned from his father without either of them
exchanging a word, and was coming directly towards us. On the way he
passed a group consisting of D'Amboise, Bayard, and the Cardinal of
Strigonia. Valentinois stopped, and in his speechless way, held out
his hand to Bayard, who merely bowed stiffly. Cesare's dark face
whitened with rage, and dropping his hand to his side he walked
straight on, and I could see that D'Amboise was expostulating with
Bayard, and Strigonia openly laughing. This insult, however, had not
added to Cesare's good temper; in fact, he came up to us as angry as a
man could be, and after greeting his sister coldly, turned to St.
Armande and looked at him in silence.

"It is usual, signore," said Don Michelotto to the chevalier, "to
stand in the presence of a prince."

"I was not aware that you were a prince, sir," replied St. Armande,
entirely ignoring the Borgia.

"You can give this young gentleman a lesson in manners at your
leisure," said Cesare. "By your leave, sir," and giving his hand to
his sister, who took it passively, he led her to another apartment,
followed by Giulia Bella, who tapped a good-bye on St. Armande's arm
with her closed fan.

Our group now consisted of Michelotto and myself standing, and St.
Armande still sitting comfortably in the lounge, evidently examining
the contour of his small and shapely foot. As for me, although I knew
St. Armande to be grossly in the wrong, I was delighted with the
sudden spirit he had shown. The youngster had heart, after all, and
there was the making of a man in him.

Michelotto behaved with great composure.

"I trust, signore--I do not know your name--that you will give me the
chance of carrying out the duke's commands."

"My name is St. Armande," replied the chevalier; "and I am ready now,
if you wish it."

"This is scarcely the place, signore; but the Vatican gardens are a
few feet away. If you will meet me near the summer-house, in, say,
half an hour from now, it would be a convenience. If we left together
perhaps it would excite remark," and the Spaniard played with the
inlaid hilt of his dagger.

"Very well."

Michelotto gave St. Armande a bow, made a slight inclination towards
me, and strolled off. To all intents and purposes we might have been
engaged in the most friendly of conversations.

"Well, cavaliere," said St. Armande looking up at me, "are you
satisfied now?"

"I am satisfied, chevalier, that you are still too young to be trusted
alone. If you wanted to pick a quarrel there were a hundred courses
open to you: there are fifty other men with whom you might have
crossed swords with no danger except to yourself, and you must needs
insult Cesare, and get embroiled with a cut-throat and risk our plans.
Where is your prudence? But the wine is poured out now. You must
drink."

His colour kept coming and going. "I mean to fight it out. I shall
step out in ten minutes, and await him. See! they are all gathering
round the tables. What with the wine and the dice, no one will take
heed who goes or who comes--good-bye!" and he held out his hand to me.

"Nonsense, man--you are not going alone. You will want a second."

"But not you," he replied, "any one but you. You have work to do--not
you, Savelli." His voice had almost a choke in it as he spoke.

"Come," I said, "put an end to this, or you will be run through the
ribs. I am going with you."

He gave in with a feminine gesture of agreement.

"The business will not take long----"

"It will take long enough, signore, if you go as you are going," and
Corte stood beside us. "Signore," he added, "I have overheard every
word of the scene. Do not go as you value your lives. If you do go, go
with a strong party."

"Diavolo!" I exclaimed, "an affair of the dagger then!"

St. Armande looked from one to another of us in surprise. "This is a
friend, chevalier," I said, "who has done us good service," and
turning to Corte, "but we must meet the man--how on earth are we to do
so in any force?"

"Look round you," he made answer, "like master, like man--stroll out.
You have some swords at your back. Take them with you; but better not
go at all. Ah! I see my new master, the Camulengo, looking towards
me--be wise and do not go," and Corte moved off to where the Cardinal
Ascanio Sforze was seated, surrounded by a little group of courtiers
and priests.

"Who is that man?" asked St. Armande.

"I met him under circumstances too long to tell you here," I said,
"some other day you may hear all about him. We will however take his
advice, and meet Don Michelotto with an extra sword or so at our
backs." So saying I took his arm, and we strolled through the
apartments, where every one appeared to be giving full rein to his
fancy. In fact the beginning of an orgie had set in. Alexander,
apparently recovered from the shock of meeting with his son, was at
the gaming table, playing heavily, with Giulia Bella at his side.
Bayard and Gonsalvo de Cordova were engaged in earnest converse with
each other, and Strigonia and D'Amboise were cracking a flask of wine.
I heard D'Este say as we passed him--"It is adieu to your eminence
after to-night. I am a sheep fat enough for the shambles, and must
look to my throat and my fleece."

"You would be wise Strigonia," D'Amboise made answer, "if the shield
of France did not cover me, I would not be here another hour. But it
is an ill thing to lose a comrade such as you."

"To better times," and the prelate who could only eat, drained his
glass to the prelate who could both eat and think.

We now began to hurry a little, and found that Corte was right, for
the soldiers who had lined the passage inside the Bronze Gates had
taken themselves off, and a considerable numbers of servants and
followers were enjoying here the results of piratical raids on the
supper tables.

Outside, however, everything was in order, for De Leyva was a thorough
soldier. I found both the Spaniard and De Briconnet cursing their luck
at being on the guards, and attacking a capon which they were washing
down with copious draughts of Falernian. Their duties kept them
outside, and it was a poor supper they were making, by the light of
torches, seated together on the steps of the Vatican.

"What! out already, cavaliere?" asked De Briconnet. "Is the cardinal
going?"

"No, but there is a little business," I answered as I called Jacopo.

"_Nom du diable!_ Can I not come?"

"It would be a relaxation," said De Leyva.

"I am afraid not, gentlemen, although we thank you. Here, Jacopo! Get
three of our fellows and follow me. Tell the others to hold their
horses."

It was done in a twinkling, and in a few steps, having harked back, we
were in the Papal gardens. The casino or summer-house of the Pope was
in full light, and we directed our steps there without difficulty. I
made two of our men walk in front, Jacopo and the third behind us, and
we remained in the middle. Strict orders were given to have swords
ready, and to use them at once.

Except for the moonlight, the gardens themselves were not illuminated,
and as we tramped along the paths, I thought to myself how easy it
would have been for Michelotto to have got rid of both St. Armande and
myself, if we had been fools enough to go without escort.

Nothing happened. We reached the casino and waited there a full hour;
but there was no sign of Michelotto.

At last I lost patience.

"He never meant to cross a sword with you, chevalier. I can bear
witness you were here, and kept tryst. We have escaped a felon's blow
however. Come back--it is getting late--even for his eminence." We
turned, and made our way back, but it was a good two hours before
D'Amboise retired. Bayard had gone on long before, declining all
offers of escort. When we reached the palace we found he had arrived
safely.

I wished St. Armande a good night, with more respect for him in my
heart than I ever felt before, and turned to seek my apartments. Late
as it was, however, there was to be no sleep for me, as De Briconnet,
whose brain the Falernian had merely made more lively, insisted on
accompanying me, and we split another flask, and talked of falconry
till the verge of the morning.




                            CHAPTER XVIII.

                            THE OPAL RING.


"His eminence will await the Signor' Donati at supper this evening."

Defaure delivered his message, received his answer, and tripped away,
his little page's cap set jauntily on the side of his head, and the
haft of his dagger clinking against the silver chain which held it to
his belt. As for me, my heart leaped at the words, for I felt sure my
business was come, and summoning Jacopo, I gave him the necessary
orders to have our men in readiness for an immediate start. I then
sought St. Armande, and told him what I expected.

"I am ready," he said simply.

"Very well, then sup lightly, and await me in my apartments."

I turned back, and on reaching my rooms, was surprised to find I had a
visitor awaiting me. It was Corte. As I have said, he had cast aside
his fantastic dress, and was robed as a doctor. He still kept his
heavy book under his arm, and the features of his curious seamed face,
and thin bloodless lips, were as pale as if he had arisen from the
dead. His eyes alone blazed with an unnatural brilliancy, but he was
outwardly calm.

"I came but to see if you were safe, signore, after last night," he
said as he took my hand.

"Thanks," I replied, offering him a seat, "we are all quite safe.
Nothing happened. The Don was not there, either he had changed his
mind, or we were in too strong force."

"A little of both, I should think," he said with a thin smile, as he
placed his book on the table. "Signore," he went on, "are you not a
little surprised and curious to see me as I am?"

"Well, Messer Corte, I will own to it. But I am honestly glad that
Fortune has given the wheel a right turn for you."

"It is not Fortune," he said, "it is something greater. It is Fate. No
chance turn of the wheel of a sleeping goddess. When I fled from you,
signore, on that day," his voice choked a little, "I came to Rome.
Never mind how. Here a great man found me. Great men pick up little
things for their purposes sometimes. And Matthew Corte, who is but a
little man, knows things the great man does not know. Ho! ho!" and he
laughed mirthlessly.

"And that has put crowns in your purse?"

"Yes, crowns in my purse, crowns in my purse," he repeated, and then
the old madness came upon him, and he rose and paced the room. "I
could have done it last night, made the hilt of my dagger ring against
his heart--the devil--the devil. But he is not to die this way--not
thus--not thus. He will die as no other man has died, and it will come
soon, very soon--Matthew Corte swears this."

He stopped suddenly, and turned to me with the question:

"Have you ever seen a mad dog die?"

"No," I answered, wondering what would come next.

"Well, my dog is dead."

"I am sorry," I began, but he interrupted.

"Dead, I say. Life went from it in writhings and twistings, in screams
of agony--the little beast, poor little beast! I would have ended its
misery, but I wanted to see. I wanted to find some death so horrible,
that it would pass the invention of man. And I have found it, signore.
See this toy of a knife! This fairy's dagger!" and he held up a tiny
lancet, "only a touch of it, and a man would die as that dog did, in
writhings, in twistings, in screams----"

I rose and put my hand on his arm, keeping my eyes steadily on his
face.

"Corte," I said, "this is not like you. You are not well. Here is some
wine," and I poured him out a goblet of Orvieto. He drained it at a
gulp, and sat with his head buried in his hands.

As he sat there the scene in the lonely hut, when I went forth an
outcast from Arezzo came back to me, and there rose before me the dim
light of the torch, the mad figure of my host, I could almost hear the
pattering of the rain and the dying hisses of the log fire without.
Then I saw other things as well, and a pity came on me for the man
before me. A sudden thought struck me, and acting on the impulse of
the moment, I spoke.

"See here, Corte! You are ill, you want rest, quiet. Throw off these
dark thoughts, and do what I say. Two miles from Colza, in the
Bergamasque, lies a small farm. It is mine. Mine still, though
mortgaged. Go there. Ask for the Casino Savelli, and say you have come
from me--from Ugo di Savelli. You know my name now, and they will want
nothing more from you. Live there until you are better, or as long as
you like. The air is pure, in the hills there is the bouqueton for you
to hunt, the life is good. Will you do this?"

He lifted his head, and looked at me. Then rising, he placed one hand
on each of my shoulders, thin hands they were, with long bony fingers
that held like claws.

"Signore," he said with emotion, "Donati or Savelli--whoever you
are--you are a good man. I thank you, but it cannot be. Good-bye!" and
lifting up his book, he turned and strode out of the room, leaving me
a little chilled. I was glad indeed to hear De Briconnet's gay voice a
moment later, as he bustled in.

"_Sacré nom du Chien!_" he exclaimed. "But who is that old madman,
cavaliere, who has just left your apartments? I met him on the stairs,
muttering curses that would make a dead man's hair stand on end."

"You have hit it, De Briconnet. He is a madman. I have some
acquaintance with him, and his story is a sad one. I believe he has
found a protector in the Cardinal Sforza."

"A queer sort of pet for his eminence to keep--thanks," and he helped
himself to the Orvieto. "_Ciel!_ my head still hums after last night.
So your little affair was but a flash in the pan--eh?"

"Yes, there was no blood letting, as I told you last night."

"Oh, I remember--no, I forget, last night is too far back to recall
anything with certainty. I want a little exercise. Take pity on me.
Come to my rooms, and have a turn with the foils. I have a new pair by
Castagni, the Milanese, and want to try them."

"At your service--what! Not another glass! Then come on."

It was something to do, and passed away a full hour. After that I came
back to my rooms, and, with an impatient heart, waited for my meeting
with D'Amboise. I saw to the packing of a valise, went down and looked
at the horses, closely inspected the arms and mounts of my men, who
looked capable of anything, and, in one way and another, managed to
get through the time, until about the sixth hour, when his eminence
supped. I presented myself punctually, and was ushered into an inner
apartment which I had not hitherto seen, and where the supper was
evidently to be held, for the table was set out there. I was alone at
first, and seating myself on a lounge, looked about me. The room was
small, but beautifully fitted up, and had all the appearance of being
the cardinal's private study. By my side was a table on which was
spread a map, with various crosses marked on it in red chalk, the
chalk itself lying on the map, where it had been carelessly flung. In
front of me was an altar, surmounted by a silver crucifix, bearing an
exquisitely carved Christ. Near it, in a corner, leaned a long
straight sword, from whose cross handle hung a pair of fine steel
gauntlets. Resting on a cushion, placed on a stand, was the cardinal's
hat, and behind the stand I could see the brown outline of a pair of
riding-boots, and the glitter of burnished spurs. In a corner of the
room was a large table, set out with writing materials and covered
with papers. Running my eyes over these idly, I finally let them rest
on the supper-table which was arranged with lavish profusion. The
curtains of the windows were drawn, and the light from eight tall
candles, in jewelled holders, fell on the rose and amber of the wine
in the quaint flasks, on the cheerful brown crusts of the pasties, on
the gay enamelling of the comfitures, and on the red gold of the
plate. I noticed, too, that the table was set for three only. It was
evidently a private supper, where things were to be discussed, and I
became glad, for I felt already a step onwards towards winning back my
name, and--I seemed to see in the mirror on the wall to my left, a
vision of a woman with dark hair, and dark eyes----

"Your eminence!" I fairly started up. I had not observed the entrance
of D'Amboise, until he stood beside me, and touched me lightly on the
shoulder.

"Dreaming, cavaliere! I did not think you were so given. I am afraid
that, late as I am, I must still keep you from your supper, for I
expect another guest. Ha! there he is!"

Indeed, as he spoke the door swung open noiselessly, and Machiavelli
entered. He was plainly and simply dressed, and wore no sword, merely
a dagger at his side. I thought, however, I caught the gleam of a
steel corselet under his vest, as he greeted the cardinal, and
D'Amboise's own sapphire was not more brilliant, than the single opal
which blazed on the secretary's hand.

"This is the Cavaliere Donati, your excellency," said the cardinal,
"but I think you know each other."

Machiavelli extended his hand to me, with his inscrutable smile; but
as I met his eyes, I saw that they were troubled and anxious. He,
however, spoke with easy unconcern.

"Well met, Messer Donati. I can only say I am sorry we parted so soon.
I would have given much to have had you in Florence for a few days
more."

"Your excellency is most kind."

"St. Dennis!" said the cardinal, "but are you gentlemen going to
exchange compliments, and starve instead of sitting to supper. Burin,
are we not ready?" and he turned to his grey-haired major-domo, who
had entered the room.

"Your eminence is served," replied the man, and we took our seats on
each side of the table, D'Amboise between us.

"You need not wait, Burin, but remain in the passage." Burin stepped
out silently, and the cardinal said with an air of apology, "You
must not mind so informal a repast, gentlemen; but we have much to
discuss--pleasure first, however--my maitre d'hotel has an artist's
soul, and he will have a fit if we do not touch this pasty."

The cardinal ate and talked. I now and then put in a word, but the
secretary was very silent, and hardly touched anything.

"St. Dennis!" said D'Amboise, "but your excellency is a poor
trencherman. And I heard so much of you!"

"Your eminence will excuse me, when I say I have had bad news."

D'Amboise became grave at once. "Let me say how sorry I am. It is not
a matter of state?" and he glanced meaningly at the secretary.

"Not in the least; but much worse--a domestic matter. I do not see why
I should not tell you. That cursed brigand Baglioni has seized on my
ward Angiola Castellani, and holds her a fast prisoner in Perugia."

I felt cold all over to my feet.

"The Lady Angiola?" I exclaimed.

"Precisely," said Machiavelli, drily; "I think you have met."

"But this can be easily remedied," burst in D'Amboise; "a demand from
the Signory, a word from France."

"Will not bring the dead to life again," put in the secretary.

"My God!" I burst out, "she is not dead?"

"Worse than that," he said; "it was done by Cesare's orders."

"Then Cesare Borgia will pay with his life for this," I exclaimed.

At this moment there was a knock at the door, and Burin entered,
bearing a silver flagon, the stopper of which was made of a
quaintly-carved dragon.

"Your eminence ordered this with the second service," he said, placing
it before D'Amboise, and retiring.

"I pledge you my word, your excellency, that I will not rest until
full reparation has been made for this outrage on an ally of France,"
said D'Amboise. "I could almost find it in my heart to let loose open
war for this."

"We are not ready, your eminence. Rest assured of my thanks, and I
will gladly accept your aid; but at present we can do nothing. This,
however, has not decreased my zeal for the measures we are planning;
and with your permission we will now discuss these, and put aside my
private trouble."

For me, I could hardly breathe. A hundred feelings were tossing
together within me, all that I could think of was to throw aside
everything, to gallop to Perugia, to save her at any cost. The
cardinal's voice came to me as from a distance.

"I agree--one glass each of this all round, and then--cavaliere, would
you mind handing me those glasses?"

Three peculiar shaped, straw-coloured Venetian glasses were close to
me, these I passed onwards mechanically to D'Amboise, and he went on,
filling the glasses to the brim with wine from the flagon, as he
spoke.

"I admired the rare workmanship of this flagon last night, and his
holiness sent it home with me, full to the brim with this Falernian,
which Giulia Bella herself poured into it. The wine is of a priceless
brand, and our lord was good enough to say, that if I liked it, he
would send me all in his cellars if I only let him know."

"We will drink this then, with your eminence's permission, to the
success of the undertaking," said the secretary, poising his glass in
the air.

"Right," said D'Amboise. "Gentlemen, success to our venture!"

He raised the wine to his lips. I silently did the same.

"Hold!"

We stopped in amaze, and Machiavelli, who had spoken, quietly emptied
his glass into a bowl beside him.

"What does this mean?" said the cardinal.

"This, your eminence," and Machiavelli held out his hand, on which an
opal was flashing a moment before. The stone was still there, in the
gold band on his finger; but it was no longer an opal, but something
black as jet, devoid of all lustre.

Startled by the movement, D'Amboise bent over the extended fingers,
and I followed his example. The red on the cardinal's cheek went out,
and his lips paled as he looked at the ring.

"Poison! Heart of Jesus!" he muttered through pale lips.

"Yes," said Machiavelli, slowly, withdrawing his hand, "the ring tells
no lies. _Diavolo!_ Was ever so grim a jest? Asking you to tell him if
your eminence liked the wine!"

It was too near a matter to be pleasant, and the hideous jest, and the
treachery of Alexander, filled me with a hot anger. It had the effect
however of pulling me together at once, the sudden presence of death,
and the danger, recalling me to myself, for all my thoughts of
Angiola. I breathed a prayer of thanks for our escape. It was a good
omen. My luck was not yet run out.

D'Amboise sprang to his feet. "By God!" he said, bringing his clenched
fist into the palm of his hand, "the Borgia will rue this day; here,
give me those glasses." He seized them, and drawing back the curtains
flung them out of the window, where they fell into the court outside,
breaking to splinters with a little tinkling crash. Then he emptied
out the contents of the flagon, and hurled it into the grate where it
lay, its fine work crushed and dented, the two emerald eyes of the
dragon on the stopper blinking at us wickedly. This outburst made
D'Amboise calmer, and it was with more composure that he struck a
small gong, and reseated himself at the table. As he did so Burin
entered the room.

"We want a clear table," said the cardinal, "remove these things, and
hand me that map."

By the time Burin had done this, his eminence showed no further trace
of excitement, except that his lips were very firmly set, and there
was a slight frown on his forehead as he smoothed out the roll of the
map. One corner kept obstinately turning up, and as Machiavelli
quietly put his hand on it to keep it in position, he said, "See! The
ring is as it was before."

We looked at the opal, and sure enough the poison-tint was gone, and
under the pale, semi-opaque blue of its surface, lights of red, of
green, and of orange, flitted to and fro.

"It is wonderful," I said, and D'Amboise smiled grimly to himself. The
cardinal placed his finger on the map, where the port of Sinigaglia
was marked.

"Is it here he lands?"

"Yes," replied Machiavelli, "and then straight to Rome."

"You have sure information?"

"Yes."

"Then will your excellency instruct M. Donati? As arranged, I pledge
an immediate movement on the part of Tremouille, at the first sign of
success."

"You have agreed, cavaliere, to undertake the task?" and the secretary
turned to me.

"I have, your excellency."

Machiavelli then went on, speaking incisively, wasting no words. "In
ten days or thereabouts from now, Monsignore Bozardo, the Papal envoy
to the Grand Turk, will land at Sinigaglia and start for Rome. He
brings with him a letter and a sum of money, forty thousand ducats.
These are for his holiness. Bozardo and the letter may reach, if you
like; the ducats must not."

"Where are they to go?"

"To the Duke de la Tremouille."

"I follow."

"Understand that you take this venture at your own risk."

I saw what he meant, if I failed I was to be sacrificed, and my mind
was made up. I would accept, with a condition.

"I quite understand--there is one thing."

"What?"

"Ten days is a wide margin. I will stop Bozardo or die; but I propose
effecting the release of the Lady Angiola as well."

A glad look came into Machiavelli's eyes; but the cardinal flashed
out--

"_Nom du diable!_ What grasshopper have you got in your head? Leave
the demoiselle to us. You cannot do two things at once."

"Then with respect to your eminence I decline the affair of the
ducats."

D'Amboise looked at me in sheer amazement.

"You decline--you dare;" but Machiavelli interposed.

"A moment, your eminence. Can we get another agent?"

"Not now; it is too late now."

"And we have no money for active measures?"

"Not a livre."

"It seems to me that the cavaliere has us in his hands, and we had
better agree. After all he only risks his head twice, instead of
once."

D'Amboise bit his lip, and with a frown began to drum on the table
with his fingers. I sat silent but resolved, and Machiavelli, rising,
went to the writing table, pulling out from his vest a parchment. In
this he rapidly wrote something, and dusting it over with drying
powder held it to the flame of a candle. Then he turned back
leisurely, and, as he resumed his seat, handed me the paper.

"I have just filled in your name on this blank safe-conduct through
the Papal States. I took the precaution of obtaining this from Sforza
to-day. When can you start?"

"Now, your excellency," and I put the safe-conduct securely by.

"I suppose I must agree," said the cardinal suddenly. "If it fails,
all is lost; if it succeeds----"

"There will probably be a new Conclave, your eminence," said
Machiavelli.

D'Amboise's forehead flushed dark at the hidden meaning in the
Florentine's words. But we all knew that the chair of St. Peter was
ever before his eyes; and for this he schemed and saved, although
profuse in his habits. George of Amboise never gained his desire; but
when he died he left a fortune of eleven millions. This however was
yet to be.

I had already arisen to take my leave as Machiavelli spoke, and the
cardinal, taking no notice of his last remark, turned to me, with
something of his old good temper. Perhaps the hint of Florentine
support at the next papal election was not without its softening
effect.

"Did I understand you to say you were ready to start at once,
cavaliere?"

"Yes, your eminence."

"Then let me wish you good fortune--adieu!"

"Your eminence has my grateful thanks."

I bowed to D'Amboise and the secretary, and withdrew; but as the door
swung behind me, I heard Machiavelli's voice.

"The air of Rome does not suit me, your eminence. No, thanks. No more
Falernian."




                             CHAPTER XIX.

                       EXIT THE ANCIENT BRICO.


I had gained my point without waste of words or time, but it was to be
my way or not at all. My lady was in dire peril. Against this could I
for a moment weigh any thought of myself? What cared I whether France,
Spain, or the Borgia ruled in Italy? What mattered it to me whether
one crafty statesman held the reins of power, or another outdid him in
craft and filched away his bone? My lady was in danger, and my honour
might rot, and the Most Christian, the Most Catholic, and Most Holy
wolves might tear each other's throats out before I would move a
finger, take one step, until she was free. If I had to pull down
Baglioni's hold with my hands, I would free her. If a hair of her head
was injured I should take such vengeance as man never heard of, and
then--my foot caught in the carpeting of the passage, I tripped up and
fell heavily, the shock sending stars before my eyes.

"Too much haste, cavaliere," and a hand helped me to rise. As I gained
my feet I saw Machiavelli beside me.

"I followed you at once," he said, "but you went so fast, I had missed
you but for that lucky trip. A word more--if you free her, take her to
the convent of St. Jerome, two miles north-west of Magione--the abbess
will do the rest. I will see to that."

"Very well. God grant I succeed!"

"Amen to that," and Machiavelli took my hand. "Adieu, cavaliere, once
again, I must go back to his eminence, we have a point or two to
discuss yet, but no more Falernian. _Corpo di Bacco!_ I grow cold when
I think of our escape."

"Good-bye, your excellency," and we parted.

I went on with a little more care, and being a trifle cooled by my
fall, was able to think better. By the time I reached my apartments I
had decided on my route. I should leave by the Porta del Popolo, keep
on the right bank of the river as far as Borghetto, there cross the
Tiber, and on to Perugia in a straight line by Narni and Todi. It was
close on three and thirty leagues; but I did not mean to spare
horseflesh. As I reached the entrance which led to my rooms, I found
Jacopo and my men ready, and Castor whinnied a glad welcome, pawing at
the air with his forefoot in his impatience. St. Armande and the abbé,
already mounted and attended by a couple of men, were a little to the
right.

"I will not keep you a moment, chevalier," I called out as I passed
him, and running up the stairs to my room, began to dress rapidly.
Jacopo attended me, and as he handed me my sword, pointed to the open
window.

"A fair night for a long ride, excellency!"

"Yes, the moon stands well--my cloak--quick," and we descended the
stairs.

"All ready, Jacopo?"

"Your excellency."

"Steady, Castor," and I swung into the saddle.

There was the jingle of bit chains, the clank of steel scabbards, the
ring of iron-shod hoofs on the pavement, and with St. Armande by my
side and my troop behind me, I left the Palazzo Corneto.

To avoid risk of stoppage I did not go down by the Alessandrina to the
Ponte di San Angelo, but determined to cross at the Ripetta.
Therefore, crossing the Borgi di San Angelo, we went northwards by the
V. d. Tre Papazzi, up the Via Cancellieri, and then turning to the
right, rode up the Via Crescenzio. To our right, as we rode, the moon
hung over San Angelo and the dark outlines of the gloomy stronghold
loomed like a vast shadow of evil above us. In front of us lay the
Tiber, and the long line of fires of the charcoal-burners. The latter
overhung by a blue cloud of smoke, into which the forked flames leaped
and danced. At the bridge we were stopped by the guard, but the
safe-conduct set us free, and we crossed at a slow pace. Above the
hollow beat of the horses' hoofs, I heard the waters churning around
the piers, and looking over the side, saw the grey river as it hummed
past below me, flecked with white foam-tipped waves, chasing each
other in lines of light across its surface, or, as they broke,
catching the moon rays, and dying in a hundred colours with an angry
hiss.

Over the bridge at last! And here Jacopo with a sudden "_Cospitto!_"
put spurs to his horse, and galloped off down the Via Toma. So
unexpected was the movement, that it almost brought us to a halt, and
St. Armande called out--

"He is gone!"

"Not he, chevalier," I answered, "come on," and turning to the left we
trotted up the Ripetta. I knew Jacopo too well not to feel sure he
would catch us up again, and that he had some definite object, which
was not desertion, in going off as he did. Yet I could not help being
put out by his action, and resolved to give him the rough side of my
tongue when he came back. We were almost up to the Porta del Popolo
when he returned, coming with a loose rein, and as he drew in with the
troop, I turned round.

"How now, sirrah! What does this prank mean?"

"Pardon, excellency, it was no bee that stung me. I suddenly
remembered that we should have little luck on our journey if I did not
pay her dues to our Lady of the Fountain."

"Our Lady of the Fountain?"

"Excellency, the fountain of Trevi. Does not your worship know that no
one should leave Rome without dropping a piece of silver in her
basin?"

"Indeed! I was not aware of it, but remember--no more sudden thoughts
like this."

"Excellency!"

I said no more, and passing through the ruined Porta del Popolo where
the breaches made by Charles' cannon were still unrepaired, we took
the Flaminian Way, and galloped down the road almost in darkness owing
to the shadows thrown by the high walls on each side of us. We
re-crossed the Tiber at the Ponte Molle, and, still keeping the Via
Flaminia, turned our horses' heads in the direction of Castel Nuovo.

It was a wonderful night. There was no breeze, except that which we
made ourselves as we galloped along. Not a cloud obscured the sky,
arching deep blue over the yellow moon, now in her full strength. To
the left the beacon fire from the top of the Tor di Vergara blazed
like a red star low down in the horizon, and before us was the white
road stretching in a ghostly line, its ups and downs accentuated by
the moonlight. The Tiber lay to our right, but owing to the undulation
of the ground we could not see it, although an occasional flash showed
us where the waters reflected the rays of the moon.

Not the best horse in the world could keep up the pace we were going
for long, and I was old enough soldier to know that our speed must be
regulated by the slowest beast if we wanted to reach in full strength,
so I slackened rein to a walk and gave the animals a rest.

Excepting once, when Jacopo rode off to make his duty to the Fountain
of Trevi, I had not exchanged a word with St. Armande, indeed I was in
no mind to talk; but he broke the silence with a question.

"Do we ride all night, cavaliere?"

"We have many leagues to go, St. Armande."

"_Ciel!_" he muttered under his breath, and I heard the abbé as he
leaned forward whisper, "Courage! would you give way now? Courage!"

Clearly there was a mystery here to which I had no clue, and it
troubled me. I glanced at St. Armande, and through the moonlight saw
the white of his cheek, showing all the paler for the black patch he
wore transversely across it; but looking at him did not explain
matters.

"What the devil does this mean?" I said half aloud to myself.

"Did you speak?"

"Merely something to myself, chevalier. _Diavolo!_ But this is a dull
ride."

"Do you think so?" and his tone softened suddenly.

I made no reply, but stirred up Castor, and we jogged along. I left
the mystery to take care of itself, and mapped out a line of action. I
would take only two men with me into Perugia, and send the rest with
St. Armande to the convent of St. Jerome to await the result of my
attempt to free Angiola. It sounded like foolishness to give St.
Armande the control of the stronger party, especially if he meant
treachery; but this I was persuaded he did not. On the other hand a
following of six troopers was a trifle too many to pay a peaceful
visit to Baglioni, and might arouse suspicion, while they were too few
to attempt open force. In short, if I could not do what I wanted with
two men, I would not be able to effect it with six or a dozen, and
made up my mind to split our party, either after crossing the Paglia,
or beyond at San Fortunato.

In this manner, sometimes galloping, sometimes trotting, and at other
times walking our horses to give them a rest, we reached Castel Nuovo
but did not enter the town, skirting it by our right, although one of
the troopers suggested our going westwards by Campagnano, a useless
detour as it seemed to me. We passed the little town exactly at
midnight, and the chime of bells striking the hour fell pleasantly on
our ears. A short way beyond we found the road so cut into ruts and
fissures that it was not possible to go at any other than a snail's
pace, so that within the next two hours we barely covered as many
leagues. The moon was now on the wane, the road became worse, and one
or two of the horses showed signs of fatigue. Jacopo rode up beside
me.

"By your leave, excellency! We have the road by Soratte to cross soon,
and in the coming darkness may possibly lose our way. I would suggest,
therefore, that we halt here until dawn. It will rest the horses, and
with the light we could press on."

"Very well. Hark! Is not that the sound of water?"

"Yes, your worship."

"Then we will stop there."

A few yards beyond we came to a ruined temple, near which a fountain
was bubbling. Here I gave the order to halt, and in less time
than I take to write this, the troopers had sprung to earth, the
saddle-girths were loosened, and all the preparations for a two hours'
halt begun.

I shared a little wine with St. Armande and the abbé, and the former,
rolling himself up in his cloak, leaned his back against a fallen
pillar, and seemed to drop off at once into sleep.

The abbé followed his example; but my mind was too impatient for rest,
and I walked up and down, watching the ending of the moon, until it
finally sank out of sight, and darkness fell upon us.

Dark as it was around me, my mind was in a still greater darkness, for
I was unable to think of any plan by which I could gain access to
Angiola, after reaching Perugia. Time, too, was short; but that did
not matter, for I was prepared to let the affair of the ducats slide,
rather than lose any chance of rescuing her.

A straw yet remained. Luck might be on my side; and with luck and a
strong heart one might do anything. There was nothing for it but to
content myself for the present with this. Until I reached Perugia I
could develop no plan. So I paced up and down with an unsettled mind,
and finally, seating myself on a stone, awaited the morning,
alternately nodding and awakening with a start.

At last! The east began to whiten, and getting up stiffly, I touched
Jacopo with the end of my sword. He jumped up with an exclamation, and
recognising me, began to apologise. This I cut short, and bade him
arouse the men.

"This instant, your worship. _Cospetto!_ To think I should have
overslept myself! Ho, sluggards! Buffaloes! Awake! Think you that you
are going to snore here all night?" and he began to stir the men up.
They rose willingly enough, with tremendous yawnings, and stretching
of arms, and we were soon on the march again, through the increasing
daylight.

The coming day seemed to warm the hearts of the men, and one of them
broke into song, the chorus being taken up by the others as we jogged
along. When this had lasted some little time, I gave Castor's reins a
shake, and off we went at a smart gallop.

Shortly after passing San Oreste the road led along the side of
Soratte, and, the morning being young, besides very bright and clear,
we had a glorious view. To the left lay Civita Castellana, the walls
of the new citadel standing high above the town, which lay in the
middle of a network of deep ravines; to the right and behind us the
Sabine Hills extended in long, airy lines, and the wooded heights of
Pellachio and San Gennaro, where, close to Palembara, was an old
castle of our house, rose to the south-east. Above us was the
monastery of St. Silvestre, and Soratte itself reached towards where
Borghetto stood, on a bend of the Tiber, in a series of descending
peaks. Cool puffs of air caught us, and freshened the horses as well
as our hearts, and it was a cheery party that finally reached the
Ponte Felice, and entered the town. Here our safe-conduct again stood
us in good stead. Indeed, we had difficulty in getting away, for the
Captain Lippi, who held Borghetto for the Borghia, wished to press his
hospitality on us for a few days; but on my eventually taking him
aside, and whispering to him that I was bound on a confidential
mission, he gave in, but with some little reluctance. He, however,
invited us to share his table at dinner. I accepted, but St. Armande,
who was looking very wearied, declined, and dined quietly with the
abbé at the "Silver Eel," where I quartered my men.

Lippi was an old soldier risen from the ranks, with a head more full
of drill than suspicion; but in order to remove any such weed that
might be growing there, I affected to be so delighted with his
conversation at dinner, that I begged the favour of his accompanying
me for a league or so on my way, after we had dined. To this he agreed
with alacrity, and I was subsequently sorry for my pains, for the old
bore did not quit me until we had all but reached the Nera, and saw
the campanile of St. Juvenalis rising above Narni. We did this portion
of the journey at a rapid pace, as I wanted, if possible, to shake off
the captain, but, mounted on an Apulian, he stuck to me like a burr,
dinning into my ears his opinion as to how the cross-bow was a weapon
as superior to the arquebus as the mangonel was above even Novarro's
new cannon. At length he wished us the day and departed, and the
horses, scenting the end of their day's journey, put on fresh speed as
we galloped through the oaks that studded the valley of the Nera. The
river here was hemmed into a narrow ravine, and crossing by an ancient
bridge of three spans, supposed to have been built by the Romans, we
climbed up the steep ascent that led to Narni, and there found food
and lodging for both man and beast, at an albergo, the name of which,
somehow, I have forgotten. St. Armande was quite worn out, and I saw
he was unfitted for any long strain. We supped together, and he
retired almost at once. After supper I had a detailed examination of
the horses, and found that one of them had a sore back. The trooper
who owned him, vowed he would not part with him, so I had to dismiss
the man, which I did. This reduced my fighting strength to six men,
including Jacopo. I did not include St. Armande and his followers in
estimating this, putting them down to so much encumbrance, of which I
would soon take care to be rid. I was anxious, however, to hurry on,
and so altered my original plans a little, and in the morning, after
we had gone about a league, I turned to St. Armande, and said:

"Chevalier, it is necessary for me to press on with all speed. I want
you, therefore, to do me a favour."

"Anything you like, cavaliere; but we do not part, do we?"

"It is this. I am going on at once; I want you to take four of my
troopers, and with your own following make for the convent of St.
Jerome. It lies a little beyond Magione. Your arrival will be
expected. If not, say you are awaiting me. Await me for a week. If I
do not come then, go back to Rome, and tell the cardinal what you have
done."

"But I thought I was to go with you, and share your adventure."

"I give you my word of honour, St. Armande, that you will share
in the adventure for which I agreed you should come--share up to the
elbows--but you will spoil everything if you do not do what I say."

"There is no danger to you?"

"No more than there is to you; in one word, St. Armande, do you agree
or not?"

"Very well."

"Then there is no time to lose. Jacopo!"

"Excellency."

"Pick out a man, and he, you, the lackey, and myself, will go on
ahead. The rest can follow. I have given all other orders to the
signor, St. Armande."

"There is Bande Nere, your worship."

"I am ready, cavaliere;" and a tall, thin, grey-moustached trooper
saluted as he spoke.

He looked the man I wanted. My lackey was a stout horseman, and at a
pinch might hold a sword as well as he held my valise. So, shaking
hands with St. Armande, I put spurs to Castor, and we dashed off.
Turning the corner of a belt of forest land, I looked back and waved
my hand in further adieu to the chevalier. I caught the flutter of the
white handkerchief the young dandy carried, as he loosed it to the air
in reply to my salute, and the next moment the trees hid them from
view.

We rode hard now, Castor going almost as freely as when we started.
Indeed, I would have far outpaced the others, if I did not let him
feel the bit once, and the noble beast, as if knowing his duty,
required no further warning not to outstrip his companions.

Going as we were now Perugia was but a few hours away; but the pace
was too great to last long, and from Todi to Perugia there were nine
leagues and a trifle over of an ascending road. Castor might do it,
the others I was sure would not. In order, therefore, to rest the
horses, as well as to avoid question, I resolved that we should dine
at Rosaro, and after an hour or so of rest press forwards, passing by
Todi, and travelling all night, so as to reach Perugia in the morning.
If we went faster, we would only reach at night, and so late as to
find entrance into the town impossible.

We clattered past the villages of San Gemini and Castel Todino, and
about noon drew up our now somewhat blown beasts at the gates of the
"Man-at-Arms," the only inn in the village.

It was a poor place I saw at a glance, and as we pulled up, a crowd of
yokels in holiday attire gathered around us. The inn seemed full, too,
for the yard swarmed with people, and a half-score heads of contadini
were at each window, staring at us open-eyed.

As I took this in, the landlord came running out, cap in hand and full
of apologies.

"_Ohime!_ But my house is full to the garrets, signore; and it is
nothing I can do for you to-day. To-morrow is the feast of St. Mary of
the Consolation, and all the country is going to Todi----"

"I do not want to stay. We merely halt here to bait our horses and to
dine. Can you not manage that?"

"If that is all, excellency, yes, oh, yes. The beasts, they can rest
anywhere, and there is a polenta and room for your excellency's
followers; but for yourself, signore," and he shook his head
mournfully.

"What is the difficulty?" And I dismounted, my men following suit.

"But this, signore. There is but one room in the house you could use,
and that is occupied by two gentlemen of the army. Violent men,
signore, who will not allow any one to share it. _Lasso me!_ But not a
paul have they paid me as yet!"

"Give them my compliments, and say that the Cavaliere Donati begs to
be allowed a corner of their table for his dinner."

"Alas, signore! It is useless. They have been here two days----"

"Then it is time they made room for other travellers. Give my message,
landlord, and say I am following."

Mine host trotted off with considerable misgivings expressed in his
face, and followed by my lackey, bearing my valise, I went after him
at a slower pace.

When I reached the room, which could hardly be missed, seeing it was
the only one in the house that had any pretence of appearance, I found
the door open, and heard a half-drunken voice shouting:

"Begone, dog! Blood of a king! But are two gentlemen to be disturbed
because a signore with a long name wants to dine? Skull of St. Jerome!
Did you ever hear the like of this? _Cospetto!_ Tell him to go hang,
or I'll spit him like a lark."

I heard enough to recognise the voice, and turning to the lackey said:

"Send Jacopo here at once with a stout cudgel--run."

The man went off on the double, and I remained without the door
listening with amusement to the ancient Brico's bluster, for it was
he, and he was having all the talk, his companion, whoever he was, now
and then giving a grunt of assent.

"Mitre and cowl! Hell and sulphur! Will you begone, fool, or shall I
slit your windpipe?" and I heard him beat the table with his fist.
"Out, rascal," he roared, "and bring in another skin of chianti."

Out came the wretched inn-keeper, and seeing me at the door began to
urge me to go; but at this moment Jacopo came running up with a stout
stick in his hand, and pushing the landlord on one side I stepped into
the room, followed by Jacopo.

Brico's friend, who was quite drunk as it seemed, had fallen asleep
whilst he was talking, and lay with his head between his arms, half on
the table, half on his chair. The ancient was seated with an empty
skin before him, and rose in wrath as I entered.

"What the----," he began in a wine-blown voice, and then his face
paled a little as he saw me.

I did not waste words. "Cudgel me this fellow out, Jacopo," I said,
and Jacopo attended to the task as if he loved it. The ancient
attempted to draw his sword, but it was useless, and a minute or two
later he was flung out into the courtyard, beaten to a jelly and
howling for mercy. He lay where he was flung, too bruised to move.

His friend slept through it all; but as my lackey lifted up his head
in an attempt to eject him, I recognised Piero Luigi, and felt that
some more stringent action than I had taken with Brico should be
adopted here.

"This man is a thief," I said to the landlord, "and his friend little
better."

"Then to the stocks they go; and now," almost screamed the host, "not
a paul have they paid me, signore, I swear this, the bandits. Hi!
Giuseppe! Giovanni!"

A couple of stout knaves came running in, and the innkeeper, trembling
with anger and fear combined, yelled out:

"Bind this brigand and his companion securely, keep them in the
stables, and to-morrow we will hale them before the podesta."

I enjoyed my dinner comfortably, and on going out to see after the
horses was met by Bande Nere, who took me aside to where, in a corner
of the stables, two men were lying securely bound. One was Luigi,
still happily drunk. The other was the ancient, whose bones must have
ached sorely, for he had been beaten sober, and was feeling the full
effect of the cudgel and the ropes. He was groaning terribly, and,
being sorry for the wretch, I was about to intercede for him with the
landlord, when Jacopo interposed with a whispered--

"Let the scotched snake lie, signore, he knows too much."

I let wisdom take its course, and left the ancient to his sorrows.




                             CHAPTER XX.

                   "A BROWN PAUL--A LITTLE COPPER."


Such as they were, the troubles of the ancient and his crony Luigi
could not have ended soon, for although at first they were surrounded
by a jeering crowd, fresh things caught the minds of the people after
a little time, and they were left to themselves. As the following day
was a holiday in Todi, the inn-keeper probably let them lie bound
until he had more leisure on his hands, which were in truth full
enough, as the albergo hummed with custom. I never heard or saw
anything more of either of the villains again. We had time yet at our
disposal; but after an early supper, the horses being rested, we
started, and going slowly, with a halt on the right bank of the
Paglia, we crossed the Tiber near San Fortunato, and Perugia lay
before us, bright in the sunshine. In order to throw any pursuit off
the scent, for if by chance inquiries were made about us, they would
be at the southern gates, we made a turn east, then struck north, and
getting over the numberless trenches lying between us and our point,
eventually entered the city by the Porta del Carmine. Here Jacopo,
under my secret instructions, let the guard handle his wine-skin,
buzzing out as if in the confidence of the cup, that we had come from
Fabriano in the Marches and then gave them the day. We rode on,
leaving the ward at the gate to finish the skin, and found very
comfortable house-room in the Rubicon, an hotel kept by Messer
Passaro, which lay behind the house of the Piccinino family, "close to
the Duomo, the citadel, and the gallows," as the landlord, who thought
himself a merry wag, informed me whilst he received us at his door. I
took the best room available for myself, and saw to the wants of my
followers and the horses, who were as well as when they started. I
left them in comfort, bidding Bande Nere make ready to accompany me
out at noontide. Dinner I ordered at twelve, inviting the landlord to
crack a flask of his best thereafter with me. He accepted with
effusion; my object in doing this being to try and get as much
information out of him as possible, as I saw he had a loose tongue and
a gossiping heart, and I was resolved to leave no stone unturned in my
search for Angiola. It wanted two hours or more for dinner, and having
bathed and changed my attire, I sank me down in an arm-chair to enjoy
an hour or so of repose.

After dinner mine host appeared, bearing with him a cob-webbed flask.

"It is a wine of France, excellency--Burgundy--and all my customers do
not taste this, I can tell you."

"I am favoured, indeed, Messer Passaro; take a seat, and help
yourself."

"The condescension of your excellency!" and with a bow he settled
himself on the extreme edge of a chair.

We poured out our measures, and on testing the wine I found it most
excellent; as for Passaro, he pushed himself back into his seat and
let the liquid down his throat in drops, his eyes closed in an
ecstacy. When he opened them, which he did after a time, he gasped
out:

"Is not that glorious, signore? Have you ever lipped the brand?"

"I confess it is wine for the gods," I said. "Is there much in your
cellar."

"Store of it, excellency; I was not butler to His Eminence of
Strigonia for ten years for nothing."

"His eminence is a fine judge of wines."

"_Cospitto!_ And your excellency's forgiveness for swearing. He is the
finest judge in the world. There is no brand he could not name, nay,
tell you the year of vintage, were he blindfold and a drop but touched
his palate. _Corpo di Bacco!_ But he is a true prince of the Church."

"Ah! you are a sly dog, Messer Passaro," and I filled him his glass;
"I warrant me you could tell many a tale of the cardinal. But come
now, has not the Baglioni as fine a taste in wines, and a better one
for a neat ankle?"

"Hush!" he said, looking around him as he put down his empty glass,
"in your ear, excellency--the Count Carlo has big teeth and bites
hard. Let your tongue be still when his name comes up in Perugia."

"Thanks, friend, but Count Carlo owes me no grudge, or else I should
not be here."

"Your worship has come to join him then?"

"As you see, Messer Passaro," and I filled his glass again, "I am a
soldier and love to serve a soldier. Besides things will be on foot
soon, for what with the French at Passignano, war cannot be delayed
long."

"True, and a light has been put to the torch too."

"Hurrah! Another glass, man; we soldiers are sick of this truce. Our
purses run dry in peace. But tell me."

"You must know, signore, that all the country east of Castiglione to
the Tiber, and lying between the Nestore and Casale, is a fief of the
Castellani, and the Count--ha! ha! It was glorious!" and he slapped
his thigh--"ha! ha!"

Nothing irritates me so much as to hear a man laughing aimlessly, and
it was in a sharp tone that I said, "go on."

"A moment, excellency," and he held up a fat hand, "ha! ha! I had it
all from Messer Lambro, my cousin, and groom of the chambers to Count
Carlo. Well, all the fief I spoke of is inherited by the Lady Angiola,
the daughter of old Count Adriano. The family is Ghibelline, and have
taken the French side, and seeing that Tremouille was between us and
Casale, my lady must needs go down to visit her estates. The Count,
who is looking for a wife, buckles on his armour, mounts his mare, and
with two hundred lances at his back, gallops up the left bank of the
Tiber, fords the stream, swoops down on the dovecote at Rossino, and
brings back a bride to Perugia; ha! ha! It is superb."

"Ha! ha! Messer Passaro--diavolo! Are they married yet?"

"Not yet--ah! The wine is wine for the gods as your worship says--not
married yet, for my lady is half beside herself they say, and the
Count, receiving a sudden message from Cesare, has had to leave
Perugia for a few days."

"_Cospitto!_ How he must curse the Borgia for putting off his
happiness! And she is handsome, eh?"

"For the matter of that, excellency, one does not squint at a sour
face set in a golden coif. But they do say the lady is very
beautiful."

"You have not seen her then?"

"_Corpo di Bacco!_ She is under lock and key, and not for the likes of
me to look upon."

"In the citadel I suppose--a gloomy cage for a fair bird."

"Maybe, but I have let my tongue wag too freely, signore, and must be
going."

"Safe enough with me, Messer Passaro, for I am on the right
side--adieu!"

I made no further attempt to detain him, and he waddled off with the
best part of the now empty flask under his belt. I was sure he knew
but little more, and what I had got out of him did not amount to much.
At any rate I had discovered that Baglioni was out of Perugia, and
that she was still here. This was better than nothing; but worse than
nothing if I could not discover the place of her imprisonment. I threw
myself back in my chair, and racked my brains to no purpose. There was
nothing definite for me to get hold of, no clue of any kind. I thought
of getting the landlord to invite the Count's valet to drink a bottle
or so of his Burgundy with me, but the mere whisper of such a thing
would excite suspicion of a further object, and the slightest
suspicion would ruin the business. Bande Nere appearing at this time,
in accordance with my orders, I resolved to hang about the Palazzo
Publico, and see if I could pick up any information there. On second
thoughts I resolved to go alone, and dismissing Bande Nere, sallied
forth by myself. I went by way of the Piazza del Duomo, and here I
stopped in an idle manner, and was for a moment struck by the entrance
to the palace, which lies here. Over the gate was a splendid bronze of
a lion and a griffin, set above a series of chains and bars of gates,
trophies of an old victory gained over the Sienese. A crowd of beggars
surrounded me, but I was in no mood for charity, and drove them off
with a rough oath. One of the number, however, remained. He was lame
in both feet, supported himself on crutches, and wore a huge patch
over one of his eyes.

"That is right, excellency--drive them off--the scum, the
goats--pestering every noble gentleman. It is only to the deserving
your excellency will give--a paul, excellency--a brown copper for the
poor cripple--a million thanks, excellency--may this copper be
increased to you a thousandfold in gold."

"Begone, fool!" I said, and walked on; but he hobbled along at a great
rate beside me.

"But a favour, excellency. If your worship would but come with me, I
would show you a wonderful sight. A bird-cage, excellency; would your
lordship be pleased to buy a bird--"

I turned round in my anger, and raised my hand to cuff the rascal's
ears, cripple though he was, when he suddenly added: "Or _free_ a
bird, excellency--there is someone coming--a paul, quick--thanks,
excellency--may your lordship die a prince."

As he spoke a couple of gentlemen and their servants pushed by us, and
I gave them the road, the beggar hopping nimbly to my side. My heart
was beating rapidly, and all my blood tingling. Was I on the edge of a
discovery?

"No more riddles," I said, "who are you?"

"It is not safe to talk here, signore," he answered. "Follow me." He
started off across the square, hobbling along on his crutches and
wailing out, "A copper for the poor cripple--a brown paul--a little
copper?"

"By God!" I exclaimed to myself as I followed behind, "what does this
mean?" I had to find out for myself, however, and followed the man,
who stumped along at a rare pace, notwithstanding the ups and downs of
the side-streets by which we went. He never once looked behind him,
but kept up his cry of "a copper for the poor cripple--a brown paul--a
little copper," and once or twice, when I lost him in the crowd, the
cry served as a signal to me telling me where he went. Finally he
turned to the left, and on reaching the Via della Conca, made straight
for the gate. Here a toll was collected, and paying his paul he went
straight out of the town. I kept him in view now easily, and could
have caught him up as I liked, for the speed at which he had hobbled
along had no doubt breathed him. At last he left the road, and toiling
somewhat painfully over the very uneven ground, vanished behind a spur
of the hills on which Perugia is situated. I now put on my best
walking pace, and in a minute or two turned the elbow of the spur
myself, and found the mendicant seated on a stone mopping his brow,
his crutches lying beside him. He stood up with the greatest ease as I
approached.

"Well, fellow," I said, "what does all this mean? Beware, if you have
attempted to trick me."

"Does not your excellency know me?"

"Never saw you before."

"I am Gian, excellency."

"Gian! Gian! That throws no light on the subject."

"The cavaliere remembers the garden of St. Michael in Florence?"

I was not likely to forget the place where I had received Angiola from
Luigi, but I could not connect the man before me with the
circumstance. "I remember perfectly, but I do not know you. Drop this
foolery and speak plainly."

"I am speaking plainly, signore. I was not sure if it was you myself
until now. I am Gian, the Lady Angiola's servant, and his excellency
the secretary has sent me to you."

"But how did you hear I was in Perugia: his excellency did not himself
know I was coming here until a half-hour before I started, and I have
ridden hard?"

"The pigeon, your worship: it flew to Florence with a letter to the
Lady Marietta. She sent another one on to the convent of St. Jerome,
and the result is I am here. I was to seek out your worship, and
inform you where my lady is confined."

"Basta! It was well conceived by his excellency. But where is she--in
the citadel?"

"No, excellency; but in the Casino Baglioni, behind Santa Agnese."

"How did you find out?"

"I was brought here prisoner, excellency, and was allowed to be in
attendance on her ladyship, together with Madonna Laura, her maid. I
escaped back to Florence with a letter from the Lady Angiola a day or
so after. It was by her orders I went."

"Then she may not be there now."

"I have made sure of that, excellency--but Madonna Laura----" he
stopped.

"The maid--what of her--no doubt with her mistress?"

"Alas, no, excellency! She was killed by Pluto."

"Pluto!"

"Yes, your worship. A black bear that the cavaliere Paolo, who holds
the house, has as a pet," and he commenced to weep.

I felt for the faithful fellow's grief, but said nothing, and after a
little he composed himself.

"Come, Gian," I said, laying my hand on his shoulder, "be a man, and
we will have an eye for an eye."

He ground his teeth but made no reply, I and went on--

"How far is the house from here?"

"Close," he said. "We can reach it by the Porto San Angelo."

"Come, then."

"There is no need for the crutches now," he remarked, as he tucked
them under his arm. "I will use them when we come to the gate. Will
your excellency follow?"

As we walked northward over the hills, I continued my questions:

"Who is the Cavaliere Paolo?"

"A cousin of Count Carlo Baglioni, your worship. A man in middle
life--my age--and a perfect devil."

"I doubt not, the breed is a bad one. Has he many men with him?"

"About six, excellency, and then, of course, there is the guard at the
Porta San Angelo always at hand."

"Now listen to me, for we may not have time to talk further of this.
When you have shown me the house we must separate. Go to the Albergo
of the Rubicon--you know it?"

"Alas! no, excellency."

"It is behind the Palazzo Piccinino; you cannot miss it. Go there, and
await me a few steps from the doors--you follow?"

"Yes, your worship."

We had now crossed the Vici dell' Elce, but passing the gate of that
name, went onwards, and after a stiff climb reached the Porta San
Angelo. Here my companion, betaking himself once more to his crutches
and keeping ahead of me, turned southwards along the road which lined
the walls towards Santa Agnese. Shortly before reaching the church, we
came to a small but solid-looking building, half fortress, half
dwelling-house, and Gian, stopping dead in front of it, turned round
and began his whine:

"A copper for the poor cripple--a brown copper. The house, signore,"
speaking the last words under his breath as I came up.

"Do you know the room?" I asked pretending to fumble for a coin.

"In the tower behind," he answered rapidly, "may the saints bless your
lordship," and he limped away.

In order to gain time to look about, I put back my purse leisurely,
and then, with the same object, proceeded to rearrange and retie the
bows on my doublet. The face of the house was a little way back from
the wall which it overlooked. The massive doorway was shut, and the
windows on each side of it, as well as those set above, heavily
grated. I was too near the house to see the tower behind, and it
looked so deserted that it was hardly possible for six men to be on
guard there.

"An odd sort of bower to place one's lady-love in," I said, half
aloud, to myself; but then Baglioni's wooing was a rough one. There
was obviously nothing to be got by staring at the front of the house,
and I turned to my left, pausing between two dead walls, until I
obtained a view of the tower behind. The windows of the topmost room
were all closed and strongly barred, and it seemed deserted. I glanced
lower down, and to my joy saw that the room below was evidently
occupied, and once I caught a glimpse of a figure moving within. It
was a brief glimpse; but the eyes of love are sharp, and I knew it was
Angiola. I made up my mind at once, and stepping back quickly to the
front of the house, hammered loudly at the door with the knocker.
After a moment's silence, I heard the firm tread of a soldier. A small
barrier was let down, a bearded face looked up, and a rough voice
asked--

"Who knocks?"

"Diavolo!" I exclaimed. "You are polite. Is the Cavaliere Paolo
within?"

"He is not," replied the man shortly.

"Expected soon?"

"Cannot say."

"If you do not answer more civilly it will be bad for you. Tell him
when he comes that the Cavaliere di Savelli"--I gave my proper
name--"has arrived from Rome on an urgent affair, and will call on
him to-morrow; forget, and it will be the worse for you."

The man seemed a little surprised, and altered his tone at once.

"I will give your message, signore."

"Beware how you fail--harkee--is there a road to the Via Appia behind
this house?"

"Yes, signore, straight on, after taking the passage."

I did not even thank him, but turned on my heel, and walked off
whistling a catch. I went down the passage between the two walls, and
after some considerable stumblings up and down the vile roads, reached
the Via Appia and turned southwards to my hostel. I had formed the
somewhat daring plan of trying to force the house in broad daylight,
choosing my time an hour or so after dinner, and if done boldly this
would probably be successful, as my own force was nearly equal to that
of the garrison including Pluto.

As I was approaching the Rubicon, I heard a voice at my side.

"A copper, signore--a brown paul."

"Gian."

"Excellency."

"Drop the beggar, and attend--can you ride?"

"Yes, excellency."

"Very well!"

I said no more and went on in silence, but a little distance from the
hostel I bade Gian stop, and entering the yard, sought out Jacopo.

"Has the landlord any horses for sale?"

"Two, your excellency."

"Good ones?"

"Fairly so, excellency--about twenty crowns a piece with saddle
included."

"Then buy one--and here--a few steps to the right of the entrance you
will find a cripple, he is one of my men, do not speak, but attend--go
out quietly--get him decently clothed, and bring him back here, the
horse will be for him. You can get clothes to fit him anywhere, for
the shops do not shut until late; get him a sword too, there are some
good and cheap weapons in Perugia."

"It shall be done, excellency."

"Then be off at once."

I went on, and had a look at the horses. Bande Nere was with them,
seated on a rough wooden bench cleaning his corselet, which already
shone like silver. He rose to the salute as I came up.

"How are the horses, Bande Nere?"

"As well as possible, signore, they are all in high mettle."

With a parting pat to Castor, I sought my chamber, reaching it a
little after the supper hour. I kept up an outward composure, but my
mind within me was aflame with excitement. I ordered another flask of
the Burgundy and forced myself to eat and drink a little. Then I
betook myself to the arm-chair, and my thoughts. So impatient was I,
that the idea came on me to make the attempt there and then, and it
was with difficulty I persuaded myself to abandon such a plan, which
could have only ended in disaster. Finally, I was about to retire for
want of something better to do, when Jacopo came in, followed by Gian.

The latter was entirely transformed, except for the patch which he
still wore over his eye, and I was able to recall him now as the old
servant who had come somewhat fiercely up to me in the garden of St.
Michael. He had the art which I found so difficult, of completely
disguising himself when he chose. Jacopo had performed his task well,
and bidding them keep their tongues closed, I dismissed them with a
good night.




                             CHAPTER XXI.

                        THE RESCUE OF ANGIOLA.


The next day as the big gun from the citadel boomed out the twelfth
hour, and all the bells of the town clanged forth the time, five
horsemen rode through the gate of St. Angelo, whose doors were spread
wide open. The single sentry on duty paced sleepily up and down, he
was longing for his noontide siesta, and the guard of a half-score of
Baglioni's lances, lay with their armour off, basking in the mellow
sun. A subaltern officer, who had evidently dined to some purpose,
reclined on his back, half in half out of the shade of a few olive
trees that grew to the left of the gate, and the ruby on his cheeks
showed up all the brighter against the green of the grass on which he
was stretched. The horsemen were myself and my four followers. We had
taken the route I went the day before with Gian, and the plan I had
formed was this. On my gaining admittance to the house, Jacopo and
Bande Nere were to put themselves at the door, and engage the guard
there in conversation. Gian and the lackey were to hold the horses. As
soon as I ascertained the position of Angiola's room, I would blow
shrilly on a whistle I had purchased for the purpose. My men at the
door, who were armed with arquebuses as well as their swords, would
hold the passage, and I should try and account for the Cavaliere Paolo
and bear off the prize. If we succeeded, we could easily make the
gate, and then, the road to St. Jerome lay open before us. The fact
that the attempt was to be made in broad daylight too would be a
safeguard, as no one would deem that such a deed, usually done under
cover of night, was to be adventured at this hour. I had partly paved
the way for my entrance by my call of yesterday, and was provided with
a sufficiently plausible story to keep the cavaliere engaged, whilst I
took stock of his surroundings. Jacopo too had been carefully drilled
as to how he was to announce me, and the question resolved itself into
hard hitting, and a little luck. I had dressed myself with particular
care, wearing my buff-coat under a gay jerkin, and a short velvet
cloak hung from my shoulders. This almost gala attire was to act as a
further blind, and give all the appearance of a mere visit of
ceremony. There was of course the possibility of my being refused
admittance, and of the Cavaliere Paolo declining to see me; but this
was not probable, and if it did happen, I was ready for a bold stroke,
and for this Bande Nere carried with him a grenade with which to blow
open the door. As it turned out, however, we had no difficulty on this
score. On reaching the house I glanced up, and saw a face peering at
us through the caging of one of the windows above; but it was almost
immediately withdrawn. Jacopo dismounted and knocked firmly. The same
performance, I have described, of opening a grating was gone through,
but on my name being mentioned the porter shut his peep-hole, there
was the sound of the removal of a bar, the clank of chains, and the
door swung open with a sullen groan, disclosing a hall, in which stood
two men, completely armed, their arquebuses at the ready in their
hands, whilst the doorkeeper himself, a sturdy knave, stood full in
the entrance, swinging a bunch of keys.

"Is the Cavaliere Paolo Baglioni within?" I asked as I dismounted,
taking it for granted I was to be received, from the preparation I saw
was made.

"He is, signore--be pleased to follow."

With a warning glance to Jacopo I stepped in, finding myself in a hall
of middle size, the walls discoloured with age, and chipped and
cracked in many places--clearly the Casino Baglioni needed repairs. At
the end of the hall was a spiral staircase, whose stone steps, worn to
a hollow in the middle, by the passing and repassing of feet, marked
its great age. Up this narrow stairway I followed the man, until we
reached a corridor, hung on each side with rusty suits of armour, and
old and tattered banners. The place was very damp, and there was a
musty smell about it, as if no pure air ever came that way. It was
evident that the cavaliere was on the alert, for a man was on guard
here, armed like those below, with sword and arquebus. To him my guide
addressed himself.

"He has come," he said, jerking his thumb backwards at me.

"Well, announce him," said the sentinel.

"That is for you," answered the janitor, "I had enough of Pluto this
morning." With this he turned on his heel and ran back downstairs,
jingling his keys.

The sentry stood still, however, and after waiting for half a minute,
I spoke, my blood rising a little within me.

"Will you be good enough to announce the Cavaliere di Savelli--on an
urgent affair?"

The man turned round to a closed door behind him, rapping at it with
his mailed hand. From inside I heard a shuffling noise, a heavy body
lurched against the door, and there was a scratching at the wood. No
answer, however, came to the knock.

"Knock again," I said, a little impatiently, and this time a deep
voice called out--

"Enter."

I placed my hand on the door to open it when the sentry spoke with
unexpected civility.

"Take care of the beast, signore!"

"The beast--what beast?" I asked, pretending not to know anything of
Pluto's existence.

"His excellency's bear--do not fear it--else it might injure
you--_cospetto!_ But it is a perfect fiend if you run from it. It
killed a poor woman the other day."

"Thanks, friend, I will beware," I answered, and pushed open the door,
springing back a yard as I did so, for with a short roar that echoed
through the house, a huge bear rose on his hind legs, and struck out
at my face with his claws.

"_Diavolo!_ go back," shouted the sentry to the brute, and I whipped
out my sword; but the animal merely stood in the open doorway, making
no further advance, his great jaws open, and puffing like a
blacksmith's bellows.

"_Cospetto!_ excellency, call off the bear," shouted the sentry again,
indeed he seemed positively to hate the animal, and from inside came a
low deep-toned but mocking laugh. "Come back, Pluto--down, you
brute--down!" then there was a heavy "thud," the tinkling of shivered
glass, and the bear dropping on its fore feet, shambled back into the
room. I was considerably startled, and not a little angry; but
concealing these feelings, stepped boldly into the room, keeping my
drawn sword still in my hand.

"The Cavaliere di Baglioni?" I enquired.

"At the Cavaliere di Savelli's service," and a tall figure rose from a
lounge chair and surveyed me. I confess that my heart began to beat a
little fast when I saw the man against whom I was to pit myself. He
was far above the middle height, and proportionately broad. His
grizzled hair, parted in the middle, hung down straightly to his neck,
and a thick grey beard and moustache hid his mouth and chin. A cruel
hooked nose, almost Hebraic in shape, was set between a pair of small
and piercing eyes. His complexion was deathly pale, and by the light
which fell from the barred window, I saw beneath the skin the little
red lines of swollen veins which marked an intemperate life. At a
small table beside the chair was a pack of cards, and a glass half
filled with red wine, the bottle from which the wine was taken was
lying in fragments at the door, where it had fallen and broken to
bits, after being flung at Pluto. The bear was now beside his master,
facing me, his huge head held down and swaying from side to side. We
remained for a half minute staring at each other, and then Baglioni
spoke again, with his deep sneering accent, "Is it usual for the
Cavaliere di Savelli to pay visits with a drawn sword in his hand?"

"Is it usual," I replied, "for gentlemen to be received by having a
savage beast set at them?"

"Oh, Pluto!" and he touched the bear, "Pluto was not set at you,
man--you would not be here if he was."

"Probably--if however you will call the beast to one side, I would
like to discuss my business with you, cavaliere."

"Shut the door, and sit down there," he replied, "Pluto will not
disturb us--you can put back your sword. It would avail you little,"
he grinned.

It cost me an effort, but I did as I was bidden, and Baglioni sank
back into his lounge, the bear still standing, and keeping its fierce
eyes on me. Its master however kept running his hand up and down its
shaggy coat, whilst he asked in his measured voice--

"Well, and to what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

"You would prefer no beating about the bush?"

"It is my way."

"Well, then, cavaliere, I have come from Rome with a special object,
and that is to ask you to change sides, and to use your influence with
your cousin, Count Carlo, to do likewise."

"I follow the head of my house."

"Exactly. You are aware that His Holiness is now over seventy years of
age."

"The lambkin of God, Alexander--yes."

"Well, he cannot go on for ever, and if he were to die, it is an end
to the Borgia."

"Ho! ho!" he laughed, "it is an end to the Borgia--Cavaliere, your
employers are mad. It will take not a little to break Cesare--Cesare
Borgia, Duke of Romagna, Imola and Faenza, Marquis of Rimini, Count of
Forli, Lord of Pesaro and Fano, Gonfaloniere of the Church--good for a
low-born bastard--eh? Ho! ho! break Cesare! Not you."

"Stronger trees have fallen, signore--remember we have France, and the
Florentines on our side, and twenty thousand men, under Tremouille and
Trevulzio, are not twenty miles from you."

I was playing a risky game. If I did succeed in inducing this man to
listen to my proposals, and he actually persuaded his cousin to do
likewise, it would be a terrible blow to the Borgia. On the other hand
I ran the immediate risk of being arrested, and kept a prisoner, or
killed outright. But it was the only way to gain time, and look about
me; and whilst Baglioni reflectively stroked his strange pet, making
no reply to my last speech, I glanced cautiously but carefully around
the room. Like the passage outside, the walls were hung with old
armour and old flags. Time had defaced the pictures on the ceiling,
and such furniture as there was, was old, and the coverings of the
chairs and tables moth-eaten and wine stained. The stale odour of wine
mingled with the must of a long untouched room, and everywhere, on the
tables, on the chairs, and strewn here and there on the floor, were
cards. Evidently the cavaliere had a weakness in this direction, and
like lightning it flashed upon me, that if he were a gambler the game
was probably in my hands, and I would drop policy and turn to the
cards. My thoughts were interrupted by Baglioni, who broke the
silence. "What evidence have you, to show you are the person you
represent yourself to be?"

"I can offer you none. In matters like this one does not carry
evidence about--but if you like to send a trusted messenger to Rome,
to the Cardinal d'Amboise--see the reception he will get--or nearer
still to Tremouille?"

"And why come to me?"

"Because of your influence with your cousin, and because you are a man
who will play for a big stake," and I risked the shot. His eyes
flashed, and his hand stopped in its movement through the fur of the
bear.

"My influence with my cousin is--that," he snapped his fingers, "but a
big stake--yes--I like playing for big stakes."

I stooped and picked up a card, holding it idly up between my finger
and thumb.

"This, what I propose, is a bigger stake than you could ever get on
the king, cavaliere," and with a twist of my wrist I sent the card
from me, it hit the wall opposite with a smart tap, and then floated
slowly and noiselessly down to the floor of the room.

The man's eyes followed the card, and he muttered as if to himself--

"A big stake--yes--Carlo gives me nothing--I am his jailor--I, who in
a single night have lost two lordships to Riario, have now not a ducat
to fling in the air, except what the niggard allows me."

I did not like the part I was playing; but I knew enough of the state
of affairs to be certain that D'Amboise would richly reward the person
who could detach Baglioni from the Borgia. I said no more than the
truth therefore when I added quietly--

"You would have another lordship, or two maybe, to stake, if my
proposal were carried out."

"_Cospetto!_" he said, "it is useless."

"Then I am sorry," I replied, rising as if to depart, "but must wish
you good day."

"_Diavolo!_ Cavaliere, you are not going without some refreshment. Ho!
without there," and his deep voice pealed out like a great bell.

The bear, which had stretched itself on the floor, rose with a grunt,
but Baglioni pressed its head down, and it sank back, and began to hum
to itself between its paws, like an enormous bee, or rather with the
sound a thousand bees might make.

After a little delay there was a knock at the door, but apparently, as
usual, the person outside, whoever he was, did not feel disposed to
come in. My host rose in anger, and stepped across the room, followed
by his beast, the latter passing unpleasantly close to me.

There was an altercation at the door, my host went out with his pet,
and for a minute or two I was left alone. I moved my seat nearer to
the small table beside Baglioni's lounge, and taking up the pack of
cards began to shuffle and cut them.

The cavaliere came back very soon, a flask in one hand and a glass in
the other.

"Blood of St. John!" he exclaimed as he set them down with a clink on
the table, "those rascals--I will have their ears cut off--they fear
this poor lamb," and he fondled the great bear, which rose on its hind
feet and began muzzling its master.

"I am not surprised. _Corpo di Bacco!_ The king again!" and I flung
down the pack in apparent disgust.

"Down, Pluto!" and Baglioni turned to me, "The king again. What was
that you said?"

"Cutting left hand against the right. I lost three times."

"I lost ten thousand one night over cutting--but help yourself," and
he pushed the flask towards me, and then filled his own, which he
drained at a gulp.

"Come, cavaliere--you are in no hurry--cut me through the pack."

"With pleasure; but my purse-bearer is downstairs--will you permit me
to see him?"

"By all means--the heavier the purse the better for me."

"A favour--I cannot play with that beast near me--could you not send
him away?"

"Send him away--my familiar," he said with an awful smile, "No, no, Di
Savelli--he is my luck; but I shall keep him at a distance if you
like."

I rose and went down to Jacopo, and found him and Bande Nere already
on friendly terms with the guard. I took my purse from him, and found
time to whisper a warning to strike the moment he heard my whistle.
When I came back, I was relieved to find the bear fastened by a chain
to a ring in the wall. The chain itself was weak, and could have been
snapped with ease, but the animal made no effort to strain at it, and
lay down as contentedly as a dog. Baglioni had pulled a table into the
centre of the room, and was seated at it, impatiently ruffling the
cards.

"Back at last," he said, and his voice had lost its measured cadence,
"heavens, I have not spread the cards for a whole year--what stakes?"

"Simply cutting the cards?"

"Yes. It is the quickest game I know."

"Say a crown each turn to begin with."

We cut through four times, and I paid over two crowns. Baglioni
laughed as he put them on one side, "peddling stakes these,
cavaliere--make them ten crowns a cut."

"Agreed--three cuts and a shuffle."

He nodded, and I paid ten crowns, feeling at this rate that my purse
would soon be empty; but I saw that the fever was taking hold of him,
and offered to double the stakes and won. From that moment luck
favoured me, and at the end of half an hour's play the cavaliere
had lost all his ready money, about sixty crowns, and owed me five
hundred besides. He did not take his losses well, all the restrained
self-command which he first exhibited, gave place to a wild
excitement, and his hands shook as he shuffled the cards, his white
face paling whiter than ever.

"Curse the cards!" he said, "I have no luck."

The moment had come for which I had been watching. Time after time I
felt inclined to strike a sudden blow; but held myself in.

"No more to-day, cavaliere," I said, filling my glass, "I have
business and must away."

A red flush came to his forehead, "I cannot pay you at once," he said
in a low tone.

"Tush!" I replied, "the word of Baglioni is enough--but if you want a
last try for your revenge, I will cut you----"

"Double or quits?" he burst in.

"No, cavaliere," and I dropped the words out slowly, "the five hundred
against a five minutes' interview with the Lady Angiola."

He leaned back in his chair in amaze, and I went on, "Listen to me, I
only want five minutes' speech with her--in your presence if you
will--come, shall I cut or will you?"

"_Diavolo!_" he muttered, "if Carlo hears of this--well, yes--I will
cut first--the ten--a bad card to beat."

I cut carelessly, and faced my card. It was a king.

"Hell and Furies!" he burst out. "You have won. Come, sir," and rising
he advanced towards the bear.

"A moment, cavaliere. I said in _your_ presence. I did not include
Messer Pluto there in the interview."

He gave me an unpleasant look; but stopped short.

"Very well," he said, and taking a large key from his girdle, went on
before me.

It cost me a great effort to keep cool, up to now my luck had been so
great that every moment there was a temptation to put all to the
hazard of one stroke. I smiled, under my beard, as I thought of the
imposing fool Count Carlo had placed in charge of his prize, and when
I saw the huge shaking hand clutching the key, I could not help
thinking that nerves like that would never hold a sword straight, and
that for all his size and courage, the cavaliere was not a very
formidable foe.

In a few steps we reached the door he wanted, and Baglioni, after
knocking once, simply turned the key and pushed open the door.

Looking over his shoulder I saw a small but well-furnished room, and
standing in the middle of it, in startled surprise at this sudden
intrusion, the figure of Angiola. Quick as thought I made a warning
gesture, and almost at the moment Baglioni turned round with--

"A visitor for you, madam."

She did not seem to recognise me, but at the warning gesture I made, a
faint flush came into her cheek. She stood looking at us half
frightened, half indignant, and at last spoke.

"I do not recognise----"

"Ugo di Savelli, madam," and I bowed.

Her lips curled a little as she answered--

"Well, Messer Ugo di Savelli--Cavaliere Ugo di Savelli I should
say--is it not so? May I ask your business? If it is any message from
your master, I decline to hear it," and she turned away with a motion
of supreme disdain, thinking no doubt that I was a follower of Count
Carlo.

"Ho! ho!" laughed Baglioni, at my look of discomfiture, "the future
countess can speak her mind. I pity Carlo. You had best cut short your
five minutes, cavaliere, and come back to the cards."

At this moment I heard the bear whining below, impatient for his
master, and I knew his bonds were all too slender to hold him. There
was nothing for it, but to save Angiola in spite of herself. All this
happened in a flash, and with my full strength I hit Baglioni below
the left ear, just where the neck and head united. So sudden, so
unexpected was the blow, that the huge man rolled over like an ox, and
a short shrill scream broke from Angiola. My sword was out in a
moment, and I stood over Baglioni.

"A cry, a movement, and I kill you like a dog," I gasped out, my
breath coming thick and fast; "throw the key to the lady--pick it up,
girl--quick--now run to the door and stand there--I am here to save
you." It was done at once, for Baglioni saw he must obey or die, and
springing back, I closed the door quickly and turned the key. Almost
as I did so, I heard footsteps hurrying below, and blew loudly on my
whistle. The sound of the whistle was followed by an angry shouting
that was drowned by a terrible roar, and I saw Pluto before me,
rushing up the stair, with the end of his broken chain still hanging
to him. Baglioni was battering at the door behind me. He was safe
enough, but my companion had dropped in a faint, and I wanted all my
hands and all my nerve to meet the beast, who was now on the stairway,
not ten feet away from me. Close to me was a heavy stool, I seized
this, and flung it at the animal with all my strength, and getting
between his forefeet, it caused him to stumble and slip back a
half-dozen steps; but with another roar Pluto gathered himself
together, and rushed up again, his jaws agape, and white with foam. I
gave him the point deep into his neck. It might have been a pinprick,
and he dented the steel with his teeth. Rising to his feet, he struck
at me, tearing my short cloak clean off my shoulders, and then, my
sword was up to the hilt in his side, and we grappled. My left cheek
was once touched by his claws, and seemed to be hanging in ribbons;
but although almost blinded with blood, and choked by his f[oe]tid
breath, I held my head well down, and drove my dagger again and again
into the beast. Angiola had recovered from her faint, and above the
grunting of the bear, the battering at the door, and the clash of
steel below, I heard her laughing in shrill hysterics. My strength was
failing. I was about to give up all for lost, when there was a loud
report, and with a howl the bear fell backwards. My hand somehow
fastened itself to the hilt of my sword, sticking in the animal's
side, and the weight of him, as he fell back, and as I shook myself
clear, freed the blade. I stood half dazed, watching the huge black
body sliding limply down the stairs, until it lay in a shapeless heap
on the landing. Jacopo's voice brought me to myself.

"For the love of God--quick, excellency--quick!"

God, I suppose, gives men strength sometimes, for his own purposes.
And so it must have been with me, for I picked my dear up in my arms,
and half giddy, and staggering, made my way to the entrance door. I
need not say I had no time to look about me; but Jacopo helped me with
my burden. Lifting her to the pommel of the saddle, I sprang up
behind, and drawing my darling close to me, with a shout of triumph, I
set free my plunging horse and let him go with a loose rein.




                            CHAPTER XXII.

                       THE RIDE TO ST. JEROME.


We galloped at a break-neck pace to the gate, but the guard was
already alarmed, and half-a-dozen men came hastening towards us.
They were on foot, however, and had no mind to stand the shock of
meeting horses coming at full speed down an incline, so skipped
nimbly aside. The officer alone held his ground, paying for his
courage with his life, for Bande Nere sliced his head in two like a
ripe water-melon--poor wretch. Had they only closed the gates we were
lost, but we reached them just in time, and passing through like a
flash were free of the town. A bullet or two whizzed past us, but did
no damage. It was done, and another half hour of the pace we were
going would place us beyond pursuit. It was no easy matter, however,
to sit the horse and hold Angiola as I was doing, and I very soon
began to feel that the strain on my arm was getting beyond me, and
that she was slipping from my grasp. She lay still and passive, her
eyes closed, her head resting on my shoulder, and seemed in a faint.
Perhaps I spoke roughly, but it was no time to mince words.

"Come, madam," I said, "you must rouse yourself--take another day to
swoon--hold me as closely as you can--quick."

My words--and the tone they were spoken in--had the effect I wanted.
She looked a little indignant, but held on, leaving my left arm, which
was getting numbed, more free to guide the horse, and my sword arm
greater liberty should occasion arise.

The country, rugged although it was, descended in a slope towards the
basin of Trasimene, but I turned sharp aside from the road, fearing
there might be a picquet thereon, and galloped across the open, far
out-pacing my followers, who I saw were coming after me in a bunch,
and at their utmost speed--the honest knaves. The glance over my
shoulder that I took to observe this also showed me a strong body of
horse spurring from the gate, and I chuckled to myself as I thought we
had gained a mile's start and that they had to deal with Castor. Five
leagues to go--it was nothing to the brave horse; and in answer to my
call he stretched himself out as he had never done before. As for me,
such thoughts as I had when I felt the arms of the woman I loved
clasped about me are to be recalled for one's self alone, and concern
none else beside. Once or twice I glanced down, meeting her eyes, and
as she dropped her lids over them they seemed to me to be alive with a
soft light. After a little I felt her arms beginning to relax.

"Hold tight," I said.

"I cannot; my strength is going."

"Courage, take heart; see, to our left is the Tower of Magione--a few
minutes and we are safe."

I drew her closer towards me. With an effort she rallied, her arms
again tightened in their clasp, and we sped down the long slope which
led to Trasimene, Castor stretching himself like a greyhound. I looked
again over my shoulder. Far behind my men were riding for their lives,
and farther still was the dark line of our pursuers, coming on with
dogged persistence, the sun lighting up their armour and flashing from
their spears. Once beyond Magione we were comparatively safe, but a
false step, a stumble, and all was lost. Magione itself was held by
the Baglioni, and from the old watch-tower, built by the Sforza, which
stood high above the country, we might have already been spied, and a
party sent out to intercept us. The thought seemed to grow into a
reality, and a despair began to come over me. "On, on, Castor!" I
spoke to the good horse, and he laid his ears back at the sound of my
voice, and even as he did so I saw a cloud of dust coming towards our
left, and knew that the danger I feared was at hand. Going as we were
I was riding right into the party from Magione, and therefore with a
touch on the rein, I swung Castor round to the north, and we raced on,
leaving the tower over my shoulder. The double burden and the
tremendous pace, however, began to tell on the horse, and within the
next five minutes he slackened perceptibly in his stride. To my horror
I saw that the ground began to be furrowed and cut up by ravines and
that we were approaching the bed of a river. I had therefore to
slacken the pace, and at the same time our new pursuers sighting us,
came on with all the speed of their fresh horses. Castor scrambled in
and out of the ravines like a cat, but we were going slowly now, and
the enemy had all the advantage of the level ground to come up, which
they did at a dreadful rate. With the failing strength of my companion
I dared not risk jumps, weighted as I was, but the brave horse did his
utmost, as if knowing our danger.

"For God's sake hold on!" I cried out as we topped a deep ravine with
a plunge that almost caused Angiola to slip from my grasp, and as I
said this I heard a shot and a ball from an arquebus whistled over my
head. The enemy were in the rough ground now themselves, but they were
within gun-range, and I dreaded that some of them might dismount and
pick me off. This however did not occur to them, and on we went, with
every now and again a bullet, fired from horseback with an unsteady
aim singing past us. My charge had twisted her arms into my shoulder
belt and held on bravely, but I saw by her white face and the blue
coming into her lips that this could not last, and if she fainted
there was an end of all.

At the outside it was a matter of a few minutes now, one way or the
other; but as I came to the crest of another ravine I saw before me a
steep bank leading down to a small stream that was swishing along in a
white flood, and on the opposite shore a sight that made my heart
leap, for drawn up in array, evidently roused by the sound of the
shots, was a strong body of men-at-arms, and over them fluttered the
pennon of Hawkwood, a red hand on a white field. I knew in a moment we
were within the king's outposts.

"Saved!" I shouted in my joy. "Saved!"--and risking all I made the
horse fly the last ravine, and the next instant we had slid down the
bank, and the white water was churning round Castor as he dashed into
the stream.

A puff of smoke above us, a flash as of lightning, a deafening roar,
and one of Novarro's nine pounders belched out a storm of grape, that
hissed over our heads in the direction of our pursuers, and stopped
them, beaten and baffled. One effort more, we were out of the stream,
up the bank, and panting, breathless and still bleeding, with my
companion in a dead faint in my arms, I reined in Castor. In a moment
we were surrounded, but the faces were kindly, and dismounting slowly,
I placed my lifeless burden on a heap of cloaks that were flung to the
earth for her, and then turning round, saw Hawkwood before me. It was
the first time we had met since the affair at Arezzo, when I was cast
forth a dishonoured man. I did not know how to greet him, and there
was a constraint in his face, for I saw he knew me, and was like
myself at a loss for speech. I had, however, to take the matter in my
hand.

"Signore," I said, "accept my thanks. This lady is the Countess
Angiola Castellani, a ward of the Florentine secretary, whom I have
brought off from Perugia, and have to take to the convent of St.
Jerome."

He tugged at his tawny moustache.

"I have merely carried out orders--you have nothing to thank me for,
signore. My instructions were to prevent any of Baglioni's men
crossing the Sanguinetta, and to protect all fugitives from the
territories of the Borgia."

I bowed and added, with a pain in my tone I could not conceal, for
this man was once my friend--

"All the same I thank you, signore; I have, however, four followers."

"I can do nothing for them if they are on the other bank," he
interrupted, and went on, "St. Jerome is not a half-league from here.
My men will make up a litter, and help to bear the lady there. It will
be easier for her. I wish you a good day." He turned on his heel and
gave some orders to his men in English, a language I do not know,
leaving me standing by the body of Angiola. All the misery of the past
came back to me in a flash. Would the stain never be wiped out? All
the kindness I had received from Bayard and the cardinal, all the
efforts made by those who believed in me, seemed to be swept away as
dust in the wind. Almost did I feel that I would accept the ban cast
on me, and turn wolf in earnest. It cost me much to restrain myself
from drawing on Hawkwood, but a glance at the still pale face before
me recalled me to my duty. A man very kindly brought me a little wine,
I knelt down and forced some of it between her blue lips. In a short
time she revived, some colour came into her cheeks, and she attempted
to rise, with a look of fear on her face at the number of armed men
she saw around her.

"There is nothing to fear, madam," I said to reassure her, "you are
safe, and in an hour will be at St. Jerome--a litter is being made
ready for you."

Without a word she held out her hand, and thanked me with this and the
look in her eyes.

The litter was now ready, half-a-dozen men volunteered their services,
and placing her therein, we started for the convent. Ere we had gone
half a mile we heard shouts behind us, and I was more than glad to see
Jacopo and my men riding up.

"How did you get off?" I asked as they came up.

"In the rear of the troop from Magione, excellency," was Jacopo's
reply, "they did not observe us, having eyes only for you; and seeing
you were safe, we forded the stream lower down and crossed--but,
excellency, your face--are you hurt?"

"Somewhat, but at St. Jerome I will have it attended to."

In truth the left side of my face appeared to be laid open, and
although I felt that the wound was not so dangerous as it seemed, yet
I had bled freely, and now that the excitement was over, began to
suffer much pain. Indeed at times I felt as if I could hardly hold
myself straight in the saddle, succeeding in doing so only by an
effort of will. I did not approach the litter. I was afraid that the
sight of my face would alarm Angiola, for now she was probably able to
look about her, and see that which she had not been able to observe
before. Once, however, in a bend of the road, that fortunately went to
the left and hid my wounded side, our eyes met, and I caught so bright
a smile of thanks, that it paid me for my hurt. I reined in, for I
knew my face showed too much, and henceforth kept well behind. I sent
Gian on to the convent with the good news of Angiola's rescue, and on
nearing the gates was met by St. Armande and the rest of my followers,
whom I was glad indeed to see.

He came up with a merry greeting. "Welcome," he cried, "so, gallant
knight, you have saved the damsel in distress;" then catching sight of
my wounded face his tone changed. "Good God! you are hurt."

"A little."

"You should have it seen to at once--come--we are not allowed to enter
the convent; but the abbess has done all she can for us, and we camp
or lodge, whichever way you put it, in that house there," he pointed
to a small villa, set in what seemed a wilderness of holm-oak that hid
all but its roof from view.

"Not so fast, chevalier. I must leave my charge at the convent first."

He had to rest satisfied with this, but I was surprised that he made
no inquiry as to the condition of Angiola, an ordinary civility that
might have been expected.

At the gates of the convent, within which we were not allowed to
enter, we were met by the lady abbess and her train. I dismounted,
intending to assist Angiola out of the litter, but as it was set down,
she sprang out of it of her own accord, and the next minute she was in
the arms of the abbess, and there was much kissing and many
congratulations, mingled with tears of joy.

I did not stay to receive the thanks I saw would shortly be showered
on me, and thrusting a handful of crowns into the hands of the leader
of the good fellows who bore the litter, as some reward for himself
and his men, I looped Castor's reins into my arm, and set forward to
walk to the villa. The chevalier came with me, and by the time I
reached it I was quite giddy, being weak with the pain and the loss of
blood. The saturnine old abbé was there, with more concern in his face
than I had seen for a long time, and seeing me stagger, he put an arm
round me and, aided by St. Armande, assisted me to a couch. The
chevalier himself dressed my wound, with a gentle and skilful hand,
making as much of me as if I had been run through the vitals. As he
finished dressing the wound, the abbé remarked that I would have to
rest for a few days to enable it to heal, and I had replied with some
difficulty, my jaw being bandaged up, that this was impossible, when
Gian came in with a note. It was from Angiola, chiding me gently for
not waiting to receive her thanks and those of the abbess, and begging
me to come the following day, with a postscript to the effect that the
lady abbess would so far relax the rules of the order, as to admit me
within the courtyard. I dismissed Gian with thanks, and a message that
I would be at the convent, charging him to say nothing of my wound,
and then my thoughts went a wool-gathering, and I lay back with the
missive in my hands. St. Armande was leaning against the window, his
back to the light. He had taken up this position after whispering a
word or two to the abbé, who left the room. I did not, however,
observe him or anything else, my mind was full of mad thoughts, and
for the moment I let them have full play, making no effort to resist.
Folding the letter up carefully, I placed it under my pillow, and was
about to close my eyes, when the abbé returned, bearing a bowl in his
hands. This St. Armande took from him, and approaching me said--

"Come, cavaliere--you must drink this at once."

His tone was sharp and incisive, and looking up in some surprise, I
saw he was pale to the lips, and wondered what bee had stung him. I
rose to a sitting posture to take the cup; but he would not have it
so, and passing his arm round my neck, made me drink like a child. The
draught was cool and refreshing, and as I sank back on my pillows, my
heart for a moment being gay at the thought of the letter, I said
jestingly--

"Chevalier, you would make a most excellent nurse. Shave off that
little moustache of yours, put on a black hood and gown, and
_diavolo!_ But you would break as many hearts as you cured wounds."
The words were barely out of my mouth, when he brought his foot down
with an angry stamp on the carpet, and with a face as scarlet now as
it had been pale before, turned on his heel and walked out of the
room.

I looked to the abbé, who was sitting watching me, stroking his chin
with his hand.

"St. John! But is he often taken this way?"

The cleric rose, and not answering my question, spoke.

"You had better try and sleep now, cavaliere, or else the potion may
lose its effect." He then followed St. Armande.

I would have risen to apologise, but I felt a pleasant numbness
stealing over me, and in a minute or so my thoughts began to grow
confused, and I seemed to sink into a sleep. Not so profound a
slumber, however, as to be unconscious of what was going on around me.
I was sure I once heard Bande Nere and Jacopo in my room, and that I
was being carried apparently to a more comfortable bed. Then I felt
soft hands bathing my wound, and heard a gentle voice whispering words
of deep love in my ear. It was a dream, of course, but all through the
night that soon came, Doris d'Entrangues hung over me, and tended me
with words I cannot repeat.




                            CHAPTER XXIII.

                     THE PAVILION OF TREMOUILLE.


When I awoke the next morning, my head was still dazed, but I was
otherwise strong. At least, I felt so, as I lay still in my bed, all
sense of fatigue gone, and trying to collect my thoughts. After a
little, I glanced round the chamber, which was not the room where I
had taken the potion, but another and a larger apartment. It was no
fancy then, the voices of Jacopo and Bande Nere I heard and the
sensation of being lifted and moved, which I experienced in the night.
My removal was doubtless effected whilst I was under the influence of
the drug; but the voice of madame? The almost certainty that she was
by me through the hours of the night? I could not account for this,
and seeing any such effort was useless, ceased to rack my brain on the
subject, putting it down to a mad dream. For some while I lay
mustering up courage to rise, fanned by the mild breeze, which played
in from the open window on my right. Outside I could see the branches
of the trees, as they swayed to and fro in the wind, and the joyous
song of a mavis trilled out sweetly through the morning, from the
thorn bushes whence he piped. In about a half hour my head began to
grow clearer, I remembered Angiola's letter, and thrust my hand under
the pillow to find it. Of course it was not there, as I had been
moved, and a short exclamation of annoyance broke from me.

"Excellency!"

It was Jacopo's voice, and the good fellow, who had evidently been
watching me, came forward from behind the head of the bed.

"Ah, Jacopo! Is it you? Here, help me to rise."

"Signore--but is your worship able--the chevalier----"

"Never mind the chevalier. I am as well as ever, and there was no need
of that to-do yesterday--_diavolo!_" and a twinge in my face brought
me up sharply, and recalled Pluto's claws. I put my hand up to my
face, and found I was still bandaged.

"It was lucky he only touched your worship."

"Luckier still your being there with your arquebus, else. St. Peter
and I had surely shaken hands--there--thanks--I will sit here for a
few minutes," and I sank into an easy chair, being really weaker than
I thought I was, the effects more of the narcotic than anything else.

"Will your worship breakfast here?"

"No--but before doing anything, go to the room where I was last
evening, and bring me the letter you will find under the cushions of
the couch there."

"Excellency!" and Jacopo left the room.

I now for the first time observed a bouquet of red and white roses,
whose fragrance filled the chamber. I had been conscious of their
perfume before, but thought the scent was borne in by the breeze from
the garden outside. Whilst I was admiring the flowers, Jacopo
returned.

"The letter."

"Is not there, signore, I have searched carefully."

It was a disappointment, but I said nothing, having determined to see
for myself. As Jacopo assisted me to dress, I enquired to whom I was
indebted for the flowers.

"I cannot say, excellency; they were here when I came this morning.
Possibly the Signor de St. Armande, who was with your worship all
night."

"All night!"

"Signore."

I could not help being touched by this proof of devotion, and when I
had dressed went down, with the intention of finding my letter, and
thanking the chevalier for his kindness. I was, I saw, still a little
weak, but a few hours' rest would make me fit for action, and I could
not help thinking I had been made much over, on too small an occasion.
St. Armande was in the room where I had left the letter, and at the
first glance I saw he was haggard and worn, with dark circles under
his eyes, eyes which many a beauty would have been proud to own. He
seemed so slim, so small and delicate, as he came to meet me, that my
heart began to misgive me again, as to his powers to endure the labour
involved in the difficult adventure we had before us. He was much
concerned at my having risen, made many enquiries about my condition,
and put aside my thanks.

"_Per Bacco!_ chevalier," I said, "you look more of an invalid than I.
I fear me, I shall have to be nurse in my turn."

"It is but a touch of the megrims, I have; but you must not think of
doing anything for a week."

"Or a month, or a year," I gibed, as I turned over the cushions of the
couch, and in answer to St. Armande's enquiring look, went on, "The
letter I received yesterday--I am certain I left it here."

He came forward to help me, but with no avail.

"It must have been blown away," he said.

"But I put it under the cushions!"

"True--but you forget you were moved, and the things were shifted.
Come to breakfast now, and I will have a thorough search made
afterwards."

"Not yet; I will but step over to the convent, and enquire after the
Lady Angiola----"

"What! With a bandaged face?"

"It is a wound," I answered coldly, and turning, went out of the
villa. My lackey ran forward to enquire if a horse should be made
ready; but thinking the walk would do me good, I declined. I was right
in this, the fresh, air acted as a tonic, and when I reached the gates
of the convent, all the giddiness had passed. There, to my dismay, I
heard that Angiola was unable to leave her room, a thing I might have
expected, and sending a civil message I retraced my steps, entering
the villa by a side gate, and walking towards it through a deserted
portion of the garden. I went leisurely, stopping every now and again
to admire the flowers and the trees. In one of these rests, whilst I
idly gazed about me, my eye was arrested by a number of fragments of
paper, that lay on the green turf at my feet. Yielding to an impulse I
could not control, I stopped and picked up one of the pieces, and saw
in a moment it was a piece of Angiola's letter to me. I lost no time
in collecting the remaining bits of the paper, and carefully placed
them in my vest pocket. Then I retraced my steps to the villa.

As we sat down to breakfast, the chevalier explained that he had made
a further search for the letter, but in vain.

"I ought to have told you," I said, "I have found it."

"Where?"

"In the garden--in shreds and tatters."

He became suddenly very silent, and so we finished our meal. All that
day I rested, more for the horses' sake than my own, and be sure I did
not fail to make frequent enquiry of Angiola's condition, hearing each
time she was better, and would certainly see me on the morrow. Whilst
I lay resting, my mind was active. I cast up the time I had left at my
disposal. I still had four clear days to carry out my mission, and to
make my plans to intercept Bozardo. But after my adventure in Perugia
I had need for extra care, and could not afford to throw away an hour
of the four days that were left to me. There were many points to think
of. Bozardo would no doubt be strongly escorted, and if the forty
thousand ducats he had with him were in gold, they would be difficult
to carry away, and would be a great temptation to my men. I could
answer for Jacopo and Bande Nere; of course St. Armande was beyond
suspicion, my doubts of him were at rest; but for the others? They
might or might not yield to temptation. If they did yield, affairs
would be serious indeed. I deliberated long and carefully, making up
my mind to adopt the following course. Tremouille was but a few miles
from me. I would see him, tell him of the enterprise which D'Amboise
had entrusted to me, and ask him to send a troop, or some trusted men,
to whom I could hand over the money in case I succeeded. If he could
send these men on to Sassoferrato, I meant to ambuscade on the banks
of the Misa, make my dash at Bozardo there, and if all went well, they
could receive the money in a few hours, and relieve me of that
anxiety. Of course Tremouille might refuse to see me; he might even do
worse; but I would give him the chance and accept the risk.

When I came to think of it, it was hardly possible that he was
unacquainted with the cardinal's design, and I could form no better
plan than the one I had resolved upon. I would have to deny myself the
pleasure of seeing Angiola on the morrow, but the four days gave me no
margin. The day's repose did me much good, and, after supper, which we
took about six o'clock, I ordered Castor to be saddled. St. Armande
looked surprised, but I wasted no words, telling him briefly that I
was bound on business, and that on my return we should have to make an
immediate start. I refused all offer of companionship, and shortly
after Castor and I were galloping through the glow of a late sunset to
the camp of Tremouille.

I skirted the shores of Trasimene, the road being easier there, and as
I went on, could not help wondering to myself what manner of reception
I would have from the duke. Good or bad, I was determined to see him,
and I soon caught sight of the line of tents, cresting the hills that
overhung the defile where Hannibal caught the Romans. The tents were
soon lost to view in the grey of the coming night. One by one the camp
fires began to light the hills; the mist that rises here after sundown
enveloped me, and slackening speed, I let Castor pick his way up an
ascending road, covered with loose stones, and cut into ruts and
fissures. In a while I came to an outpost, and at once challenged by
the sentry, and surrounded by the piquet. I explained that I was from
Rome to see the duke, and could not possibly give the pass word. The
officer of the watch replied that this was my affair, not his, and
that I would have to remain here until the morning, or until a field
officer inspected the posts, in which case he would take his orders.
There was no help for it, and I resigned myself to circumstances, with
an impatient heart So an hour or two passed, which I beguiled by
discourse with the subaltern, telling him of Rome; he was a cadet of
the house of Albani, and hearing petty items of news in return, the
chief of which was that the Seigneur de Bayard had returned to the
camp. Even as he said this, we heard the deep bay of a hound, and I
recognised Bran's throat.

"_Per Bacco!_ It is Bayard himself going the grand rounds," exclaimed
the subaltern springing to his feet, and giving the order for the men
to stand at attention. In a few minutes we heard the sound of horse's
hoofs, the sharp clink of steel scabbards, and a half-dozen horsemen
rode up. As they approached, Castor neighed in recognition of his twin
brother, and an answering call showed that Pollux knew the greeting,
and gave it back. The hound too came up, and rising on his hind feet,
fawned a welcome on me. I made myself known to Bayard at once.

"_Ciel!_" he said, "you are the last man I expected to meet, and you
want to see the duke, come with me then."

On the way I told him of the success of my attempt to free Angiola.

"We have just heard of it," he said, "and it has gone far in your
favour. In fact Madame de la Tremouille, who is back again, could
speak of nothing else at supper this evening. It was a brave deed, and
I envied your luck, cavalier."

I told him of my plan, enquiring if he thought Tremouille would give
me the assistance I wanted, pointing out that the movement of any
troops, where I wanted the detachment to go, could not possibly be
taken as a breach of the truce.

"As for the truce," he made answer, "it is in the air. The king has
really left Maçon at last. It is said that the advance guard under the
Seneschal of Beauçaire has already crossed the Ombrone. Tremouille
cannot possibly refuse, and here we are."

We pulled up at the entrance to a large pavilion, out of whose open
door a broad band of light streamed into the night.

"Follow me," said Bayard, and I did so, the guards saluting
respectfully as we entered.

I had not time to look about me, but saw that Tremouille, who was in
his armour, was pacing up and down the tent, with his limping gait,
and dictating a despatch to his secretary. He stopped short in his
walk, and greeting Bayard cheerfully, looked at me with a grave
surprise.

"This is M. di Savelli," said Bayard, "he has business of such
importance with your excellency, that I have taken it upon myself to
bring him here."

The duke glanced at me keenly, the thin lines of his lips closing
together.

"Are you aware of the risk you run by coming to my camp?" he asked.

"I am perfectly aware, your excellency, but----"

"You must either be a fool, or a very brave man," he interrupted.

"I lay claim to neither honour, my lord, and I take the risk: will you
hear me?"

He nodded, and I laid my proposal before him. When I had finished his
face expressed approval.

"Very well," he said, "I will detach Hawkwood. If you succeed, hand
the money over to him."

"I understand, my lord," and bowing I retired. As I reached the door
of the pavilion, I heard the duke's voice again:

"M. di Savelli."

"My lord," and I faced him.

"Succeed in this, and count me as a friend. I give you the word of
Tremouille."

"I thank your excellency," and turning again I went forth. Bayard
followed me out.

"I have half a mind to ask you to let me share your adventure," he
said, "I am afraid, however, they will not allow me to go. At any rate
I will ride back to the outposts with you--down, Bran," and he swung
into the saddle.

When I shook hands with Bayard on parting from him, his last speech
was--"Be careful, cavaliere, for Tremouille is a man of his word--if
you fail, however, remember the game is not yet lost--good-bye, and
good luck."

I turned Castor's head towards the convent, and leaving the camp fires
behind me, went on through the darkness. It was midnight when I
reached the villa. Those tough old soldiers Jacopo and Bande Nere were
on the watch. Everything was ready; and after sharing a skin of wine
all round, we rode out--shadowy figures through the mist, now faintly
lit up by a young moon, whose thin crescent lay quietly in the sky. I
looked back at the walls of the convent; from a window of an upper
chamber a light was shining. Perhaps it was hers! And I bent down my
head in a silent prayer, for God's help in my fight back to honour.




                            CHAPTER XXIV.

                          TOO DEARLY BOUGHT.


About a mile from Arcevia, the road from Sinigaglia to Rome, begins to
ascend the oak-shrouded hills whence the Misa has its source, passes
Sassoferrato, and then, turning due south, goes on for some nine miles
over the mountains. At the point where this road, up to now following
the banks of the Misa, and advancing in a gentle slope, begins the
somewhat abrupt ascent of the outer chain of the Pennine Alps, on a
high overhanging rock, covered with twisted and gnarled oaks, stood a
ruined and deserted castle. It was of the eleventh century, and
originally belonged to the Malatesta, whose battered and defaced
scutcheon frowned over the half-falling arch of the gate. Now it was
ownerless, but there were tenants there, for the falcon had made her
eyrie in its rocks, in the crannies of the falling towers were
numberless nests of swallows, on the ruined _débris_ of the walls the
little red lizard basked in the sunlight, and, when the night came,
the melancholy hoot of the owl was heard, and tawny fox, and grey wild
cat, stole forth on plundering quests, from their secure retreats
amidst the thorn, the wild serpythum, and the fragments of the
overthrown outer wall, which afforded these bandits of nature so safe
a hiding place.

For once, however, for many years, the castle was again occupied by
man. There were a dozen good horses under the lee of the north wall
which still stood intact, and in the great hall, part of whose roof
lay open to the sky, a fire of oak-logs was burning, whilst around it
were gathered Jacopo and my men, cracking jokes, and finding the
bottom of a wine skin. In a smaller chamber, a little to the right, I
sat with St. Armande and the abbé. We, that is the chevalier and
myself, had been dicing a little together to kill time, the abbé
improving the occasion by reading from his Breviary. We had now been
here for three days, on the watch for Bozardo's party, but there was
no sign of them. They had certainly not gone on, for we had carefully
enquired, and were doubtless detained by some reason, of which we knew
not the details. In order not to be taken by surprise, I had sent
Bande Nere on to scout, with instructions to come back with a free
rein, the instant he had news of the party. Two days had passed since
he went, there was no sign of him, and I was beginning to feel a
little anxious.

"_Diavolo!_" I exclaimed, "I am getting sick of sitting like a vulture
on a rock here. I wish Monsignore Bozardo would hasten his steps."

The abbé looked up in a mild surprise, and St. Armande put in
gently--"The compulsory rest has done your wound good at any rate."

"I fancy, chevalier, I owe more thanks to your skilful doctoring than
to the rest. _Per Bacco!_ But I think I shall carry those claw marks
to my grave."

"What one carries to the grave does not matter," said the abbé, "it is
what one carries beyond the grave that the signor' cavaliere should
think of."

"True, reverend sir, I trust I may ever remember that," and rising, I
put my hand on St. Armande's shoulder, "come, chevalier, I go to take
a turn outside, will you join me?"

He rose with pleasure on his face. On our way out we passed through
the great hall, and listened for a moment to Jacopo, who in a tuneful
voice was singing a Tuscan love song. So absorbed was he and his
audience, that they did not observe us, nor did our footfalls attract
any attention as we passed out into the open air.

The moon was still young enough for all the stars to be visible, and
leaning over the ruined battlements we looked out into the night. Far
below us we heard the river, murmuring onwards towards the sea, behind
us the castle stood grim and silent, a red light showing from the
windows of the hall, through which we could catch the lilting chorus
to Jacopo's song.

For a time neither of us spoke, and then to make some conversation I
turned to my companion.

"Who is that abbé, chevalier, who accompanies you everywhere? Not a
tutor surely?"

"In a way--yes," he answered, "he was born and brought up on our
estates, and is a faithful servant of our house--you must know," he
went on, "that in Picardy, the name of St. Armande is honoured as that
of the king. I would trust Carillon with more than my life; my honour,
if need be; for he and his fathers have served us more faithfully I
fear than we have served France."

"Not more faithfully than you mean to though--eh, St. Armande?"

"If I live," was the reply, as he made a slight gesture, a movement of
the head that brought back to me the shadowy memory I was always
trying to grasp.

"Live--why of course you will live," I answered.

"I shall not see the sun set to-morrow."

I looked at him blankly for a moment. Moon and stars were sufficient
to light his face, so that I could see the sad, far-away eyes, eyes
more fit for a saint than a soldier.

"_Animo!_ Do not talk like that. It is nonsense," but I felt a
foreboding myself that I could not account for, and it chilled me.

"It is not nonsense," he said in his dreamy voice, and then, as if
rousing suddenly, "Cavaliere--di Savelli--I want you to promise me one
thing. Do not hesitate; but promise. It is about myself I ask--will
you?" and he held me by the arm with his slight fingers that I felt
were shaking. To soothe him I answered gravely, "I promise."

"I know that I will not live beyond to-morrow. When I die, bury me as
I am--here--here in this ruin--and--and you will not forget me, will
you?"

As he said this his voice took a cadence, his face took an expression
that suddenly brought back a hundred old memories, no longer vague and
misty, but clear and distinct. In a moment the scales fell from my
eyes, and I saw. I seemed to be once more hawking on the banks of the
Chiana with madame, I was once more in the aisles of the church at
Arezzo, treading down temptation, and bidding farewell to a woman who
was trying to be strong.

"God in heaven!" I gasped to myself as I leaned back against the
parapet, and drew my hand across my forehead, as if to wake myself
from a dream. St. Armande did not notice my exclamation, he did not
even observe my movement. His own excitement carried him away.

"Promise," he said, and shook my arm in his earnest entreaty.

"As there is a God above me I promise."

"I believe you," he said simply, "and now I am going in."

I made no offer to bear him company, and his slight figure drifted
into the moonlight. I saw it clearly again, making a dark bar against
the red glare in the open door of the hall, and then vanished from
view. I was utterly thunderstruck by the discovery I had made. A
hundred actions, a hundred tricks of gesture, of speech, of manner,
should have disclosed St. Armande's identity to me. Now I knew it, it
was all so simple and clear, that I wondered at my denseness in not
having guessed through the disguise before. Now that I had discovered
it however, now that my blindness was cured, what was I to do? I
resolved on keeping the secret I had probed, and never once letting
St. Armande know he was other than what he pretended to be. A great
pity came up in my heart, for there was a time when I almost thought I
loved this woman, and it required little conceit to see, after what
had happened, that madame was prepared to make almost any sacrifice
for my sake. I was sorry, more sorry than I can tell, for I knew my
own hands were not clean in this matter, and I paced up and down,
flinging bitter reproaches at myself, and utterly at a loss to plan
out some way of escaping from the difficulty in which I was placed. I
made up my mind that St. Armande, as I will still speak of the
disguised chevalier, should be placed in no danger, resolving that as
soon as the affair on which we were engaged was over, that I would
send him, or rather her, with a message to the cardinal, and the
message was to be one that, I hoped and trusted, would have the effect
of making madame cease her foolish prank--I had it at this moment
almost in my heart to be angry with her; but I could not, for the
small voice that kept whispering to me--

"Thou art not free from blame." I was not; but nothing would induce me
to add another wrong to the one I had committed. That in itself was
sufficient to haunt me to the grave, and I shivered as I thought of
the abbé's words, "It is what one carries beyond the grave that the
Signor Cavaliere should think of."

So alternately reproaching myself, and praying for aid, prayers that
brought no relief, I passed the night, and in the small hours of the
morning stole back into the castle. Round the fire in the great hall,
the figures of my followers were stretched, all but one, who kept
watch, but recognising me did not challenge. I passed by softly, and
entered the other room. The abbé had dropped asleep over his breviary,
the lamp burning low beside him.

Rolled in a cloak, and half reclining against a saddle, St. Armande
was in a profound slumber. I took the lamp in my hand, and holding it
aloft, surveyed the sleeping figure. A last hope had come to my mind
that I was mistaken, that perhaps I was jumping too quickly to
conclusions. But no, there was not a doubt of it. There could be no
mistaking that fair face with its delicate features, the straight
nose, the curved bow of the lips, half hidden under its disguise, the
small shapely head with its natural curls of short golden hair--oh! I
knew all these too well. It was Doris d'Entrangues without shadow of
doubt, and no blind beggar, who groped his way through a life-long
darkness, was blinder than I had been. I set down the lamp softly, and
with a sick heart stepped back into the hall, where I found room for
myself until the morning, which indeed it was already. With the
sunrise, I was awakened from a fitful sleep by hearing Bande Nere's
voice.

"What news?" I asked as I drew the old soldier aside.

"I have been as far as Sinigaglia, excellency, and all goes well. The
party left Sinigaglia the morning I arrived, and I followed in their
track, letting them keep well ahead of me to avoid suspicion. Last
night, however, I passed them. They will be here about noon, maybe a
little before."

"The numbers?"

"Ten lances, excellency, for escort. It is those we have to deal with.
Then there are about a score of mounted servants, four laden mules,
and Monsignore Bozardo."

"_Um!_ That is rather strong, if the servants carry weapons."

"But they march as through a friendly country, signore, the servants
going on ahead to prepare for Monsignore's arrival. He himself keeps
close to the mules, with one or two men, and of course the escort."

"Do you know who commands the escort?"

"No, excellency--I did not wish to risk anything, and asked no
questions."

"You are right, and have done well--here are ten crowns."

"Your excellency is generosity itself."

"It is not more than you deserve. Go and get something to eat now, and
take as much rest as you can within the next hour."

"Excellency," and Bande Nere stepped back to join his fellows, who
surrounded him with eager questions, and there was a bustling and a
buckling-to of arms and armour.

When we met a little later my face showed no signs of my discovery to
St. Armande, and whilst we breakfasted together I told him that the
time was come for which we had been waiting.

"Remember your promise," he said with an affected gaiety, but his
voice nearly broke down and I saw the abbé glance at him with a deep
compassion.

"I will not forget," I answered, "but God grant there may be no need
to keep it."

"I should say 'Amen' to that," he answered, "only I cannot."

My plans were already made, and as soon as we had breakfasted we set
forth from the castle. The road, as I have already explained, ascended
abruptly a short distance from the base of the rock on which the
castle was perched. Between the base of the rock and the road was a
narrow but thick belt of forest, which afforded admirable concealment,
and here we posted ourselves secure from all view. The abbé and St.
Armande insisted on accompanying us, and in order to put the chevalier
from harm I placed him a little way up the rock, with instructions to
charge down as soon as he heard my whistle, which I never intended to
blow. The abbé took his station beside him, saying where the chevalier
was it was his duty to be. St. Armande held out a small hand to me as
I was turning away, and I took it gently for a moment in mine. The
quick impulsive movement reminded me much of that day when madame had
held the flowers I gathered to her husband's face. Something almost
choked me as I turned away hastily, having only strength to repeat my
warning--

"Do not move till you hear my whistle."

I borrowed an arquebus from one of my men, and the arrangement was
that we were to charge out after a volley, the first shot of which I
was to fire. All being now ready, it was only necessary for us to
wait. I would merely add that in order to prevent discovery by the
neighing of the horses, we had muzzled ours as far as possible. There
was now a dead silence, that was only broken by the rustle of the
leaves overhead, an occasional crack amongst the dry boughs as a
squirrel moved against them, or the uneasy movement of a horse, which
caused a clink of a chain-bit, and a straining sound made by the
leathers of the saddlery, that was not in reality so loud as it
seemed; but caused Jacopo and Bande Nere to scowl fiercely at the
unfortunate rider, a scowl which was only equalled by their own
stolidly impassive faces, when their own beasts sinned. We had not
long to wait; presently we heard voices shouting, the clatter of
horses trotting, a rapid reining in at the ascent, and a number of
followers and lackeys, some mounted on horses, others on mules, with
led mules beside them, came past, and went on, heedless of the eager
faces watching them through the trees. One or two of our horses became
so uneasy that I was afraid of immediate discovery, but so occupied
were the knaves in babbling together, all at once, that what with
this, and the thwacking of their animals, and in some cases the
efforts to remain on, we remained unnoticed. Then there was a short
interval, and the suspense was strained to breaking point. In a while
we heard the firm beat of a war-horse's hoof, and our quarry came in
view. First came Monsignore Bozardo, a tall thin man, wrapped in a
purple cloak, with a fur cap on his head. He rode a strong ambling
mule, and by his side was the commander of the escort. Immediately
behind were four troopers, then the mules with the ducats, behind
these again six other lances, whilst the rear was brought up by
half-a-dozen lackeys, without a sword amongst them. But what struck me
almost dumb with surprise was that the leader of the escort was none
other than D'Entrangues himself. There could be no mistake, his visor
was up, and I saw the sallow face, the long red moustaches, and almost
caught the cold glint of his cruel eye. At last! I raised my arquebus
and covered him. At last! But a touch of my finger and the man was
dead. I could not miss, my heart was mad within me, but my wrist as
firm as steel. In another moment he would be dead, dead, and my
revenge accomplished. It was already in my hand. I looked aside for a
second at the line of breathless faces watching me, then back again to
the muzzle of my weapon. D'Entrangues was now not twenty yards away. I
could scarcely breathe as I pointed the arquebus at his heart. I had
already begun to press the trigger, when something seemed to come
across my mind like lightning. I saw in a moment that lonely room in
the Albizzi Palace, where I had kneeled to my God and sworn to put
aside my vengeance. The weapon shook in my grasp.

"Fire, signore," whispered Jacopo hoarsely.

With an effort I jerked the muzzle in the air, and pulled the trigger.
The report was followed by four others, and two of the troopers fell.
The next moment we were on them with a shout, and there was the clash
of steel, as fierce blows were struck and received, now and again a
short angry oath, and sometimes a cry of pain. I did not want to take
life, but a trooper came at me, so I had to run him through the heart,
and the man fell forward under Castor's hoofs, with a yell I shall
never forget. The next instant D'Entrangues and I crossed blades, and
whether he recognised me or not I do not know, but he fought with a
skill and fierceness I have never seen equalled. At last I lost my
temper, and cut savagely at him. He parried on the forte of his blade,
but so furious was the stroke that it broke the weapon in his hand,
and almost unhorsed him. Reining back skilfully he avoided another cut
I made at him, and drawing a wheel lock pistol from his holster, fired
it straight at me. At the flash, someone dashed between us. I heard a
scream which froze the blood in me, and a body lurched forwards and
fell to my side, whilst a riderless horse plunged through the press,
and galloped away. I saw the light of the golden head as it fell, and
forgetting everything, forgetting D'Entrangues, forgetting all but the
fact that a dreadful deed was done, I sprang down from Castor, and
raised St. Armande in my arms. As I did this a hoarse yell from my men
told me the day was won; but I had no ears for this, no eyes for
anything, except the slight figure, which lay in my arms gasping out
its life.

"Congratulations, signore, we have taken the lot," and Jacopo,
bleeding and dusty, rode up beside me.

"At too great a price," I groaned; "help me to carry----," I could say
no more.

"Here, two of you secure those mules--Bande Nere, see to the
wounded--Queen of Heaven--the chevalier----" and Jacopo, giving his
sharp orders, sprang down beside me, and together we bore our
unconscious burden under the shadow of the oaks. A dark figure stepped
to our side, and kneeling down supported the lifeless head on his arm,
whilst hot tears fell from his eyes, as he prayed over her. It was the
abbé.

"How did this happen?" I asked, "did I not say you were not to move?"

"It was done at once," he answered, "I could not prevent it--alas! How
can I carry this tale back to St. Armande?"

"Water, excellency."

Jacopo had brought some clear water in his helmet. I thanked him with
a look, and he stepped back, leaving us three together, two who were
living, and one who was going away.

I bathed the forehead and drawn lips, from which flowed a thin stream
of blood, and as I did so her eyes opened, but the film of death was
on them.

"Di Savelli--Ugo--," and she was gone.

Gone like a flash, flung swiftly and fast into eternity, struck down,
perhaps unwittingly, by the arm which should have been a shield to
her. I have often wondered if D'Entrangues ever knew who fell to his
pistol shot. If he did, God pity him! In the one glimpse I caught of
his white face, as he swung round and rode off, I thought I saw a look
of horror. But everything went so quickly, that then I had no time to
think, and now I can recall but the end.

To her dead lips Carillon pressed his crucifix, into her dead ears he
mumbled prayers. I knelt tearless, and prayerless, beside him,
thinking only of the great love that had laid down a life.

One by one my men stole up, and stood in a half circle, leaning on the
cross-handles of their swords, over which the grim, bearded faces
looked down on us in pity.

Suddenly Carillon raised his crucifix aloft.

"My Father," he cried, "receive her soul!"

And someone said softly,

"Amen!"




                             CHAPTER XXV.

                       THE VENGEANCE OF CORTE.


We buried our dead; and madame slept beneath the ilex, in the
courtyard of the castle, below the north wall. Over her nameless grave
we raised a rude cross, and after it was done, Carillon bade me
farewell. He was going, he said, to bear the story to St. Armande, and
when he reached it, I wit there was sorrow in the Picard chateau,
whence madame took her name. It was with a heart of lead that I rode
into Sassoferrato, and there, as arranged, made over my prize to
Hawkwood. The tale of the ducats was complete, and the Englishman,
giving me my quittance, held out his hand, saying bluntly--

"I wronged you, Di Savelli; but I know now. We all know, for Bayard
has told us."

I hesitated. Many memories came to me, and there was bitter resentment
in my soul. They had all been too ready to believe. They had flung me
forth as a thing too vile to touch, and now--it was an easy matter to
hold out a hand, to say, "I am sorry," to think that a civil word
would heal a hideous wound. The kind world was going to forgive me,
because it had wronged me. Such as it was, however, it was the world,
and things had made me a little humble. After all, if the positions
were reversed; if I stood in Hawkwood's place, and he in mine, how
should I have acted? I would not like to say.

"Come," said Hawkwood, "let the past be covered. Come back--we want
you."

"As you will," and I took his grasp; "I will come back in a little
time. Till then adieu!"

"Good-bye!" and we parted.

Five minutes later, I was spurring to Rome, my following at my heels.
It was, in a manner, putting my neck on the block, for Bozardo was
probably making his way thither with all speed, and doubtless
D'Entrangues as well. Recognition was almost certain; but risk or no
risk, I was bound to see the cardinal, and tell him my task was done.
Little did I think, however, as Castor bore me, with his long, easy
gallop, across the oak forests of the Nera, that the face of affairs
in Rome had been changed in an hour, and that, had I so wished, I
might have, in safety, proclaimed what I had done from the very
house-tops. As we came nearer the city, it was evident that there was
some great commotion within, for, from every quarter pillars of dim
smoke rose up in spiral columns, and then spreading out like a fan
hung sullenly in the yellow of the sunset. It was clear that houses
were burning, and swords were out. We soon began to meet parties of
fugitives, hurrying from the city, and making across country in all
directions. They avoided us like the plague, and the mere glint of our
arms was sufficient to make them scatter to right and left, leaving
such property as they could not bear with them, to the tender mercies
of the road-side. Some of my men were eager to ride after the
runaways, and question them; but I forbade this, knowing we should
hear soon enough, and that if there were danger, it would be best to
hold together.

"_Per Bacco!_" and Jacopo, riding up beside me, pointed to a black
cloud, which slowly rose, and settled above the vineyards of the
Pincian Hill, "we had best go with a leaden boot, excellency. There is
a devil's carnival in Rome, or I am foresworn."

At this juncture, we turned an abrupt corner of the road, coming upon
a crowd of fugitives, who seemed to be running forwards, caring little
where they went, so that they put a distance between them and Rome.
Amongst the throng was a figure I recognised; and in a mean habit,
mounted on a mule, which was seized with an obstinate fit, and refused
to budge, although soundly thwacked, I saw the Cardinal of Strigonia.
Bidding Jacopo keep the men together, I rode up to him, and asked--

"Can I render your eminence any aid?"

His round eyes, starting out of his head like a runaway hare's,
glanced at me in fear, and the stick he bore dropped from his hand, no
doubt much to the satisfaction of the mule. At first he was unable to
speak, for my words seemed to fill the man with terror, and I had to
repeat the question, before he stammered out--

"You are mistaken, sir; I am no eminence, but a poor brother of Mount
Carmel, on my way to Foligno, out of this hell behind me," and he
glanced over his shoulder towards Rome.

"I see," I answered with a smile, "but if the poor brother of Mount
Carmel will look more closely at me, he will see a friend. In short,
your eminence, I am Di Savelli."

"_Corpo di Bacco!_ I mean our Lady be thanked. And so it is you,
cavaliere! Take my advice, and turn your horse's head to Foligno. On
beast!" and he kicked at the mule, which moved not an inch.

"I am for Rome, your eminence; but what has happened?"

"Oh, that I had a horse!" he groaned. "What has happened? Everything
has happened. Alexander is dead or dying. Cesare dead, they say, and
burning in Hades by this. Orsini and Colonna at the old game of hammer
and tongs----"

"And the Cardinal--D'Amboise?"

"Safe enough I believe, as the Orsini hold the Borgo, and have
declared for France."

"Trust me, your reverence, you will be safer in Rome than out of it.
The whole country will rise at the news, and the habit of Mount Carmel
will not save the Cardinal of Strigonia. Turn back with me, and I will
escort you to the Palazzo Corneto."

To make a short story, D'Este agreed after a little persuasion, and
the mule was kind enough to amble back very willingly to Rome. We
placed his eminence in the centre of our troops, and went onwards,
entering the city by the Porta Pinciana, riding along leisurely in the
direction of S. Trinita di Monti, and thence straight on towards the
Ripetta. It was a work of no little danger to make this last passage,
for everywhere bands of plunderers were engaged in gutting the houses,
many of which were in flames, and we continually came across dead
bodies, or passed houses from which we heard shrieks of agony. We
could help no one. It was all we could do to keep our own heads on our
shoulders; but by dint of shouting, "_A Colonna!_" with the Colonna,
and "_Orsini_! _Orsini!_" with their rivals, and sometimes hitting a
shrewd blow or two, we crossed the Ripetta, and in a few minutes were
safe in the Palazzo Corneto.

Here we were received by Le Clerc, who comforted the trembling
Strigonia, with the assurance that an excellent supper awaited him,
informing me, almost in the same breath, that D'Amboise was in the
Vatican. I lost no time in repairing thither, which I did on foot,
accompanied by Jacopo alone, and made my way without let or hindrance
to the Torre Borgia. Here everything was in the wildest confusion, and
the Spanish soldiers of the Pope were plundering right and left. I
stumbled across De Leyva, who, with a few men at his back, was trying
to maintain order. He gladly accepted the offer of my sword, and we
did what we could to prevent the wholesale robbery from going on. In a
brief interval of rest, I asked,

"Do you know where D'Amboise is?"

"In the Sistine Chapel, with half-a-dozen others; De Briconnet guards
the entrance."

"And Alexander?"

"Dead or dying--I do not even know where he is; Don Michele has seized
as much as he can, and carrying Cesare on a litter, has escaped to
Ostia."

"Then Cesare is not dead----"

"No. Cross of St. James! see that?" and he pointed to a reeling
drunken crowd, full with wine and plunder, who passed by us with
yells, into the great reception rooms.

Followed by the few men who remained steady, De Leyva dashed after
them, and with Jacopo at my heels, I made for the Sistine Chapel. I
reached the Scala Begia, and although I knew the Sistine Chapel was
but a few feet distant, yet, owing to the darkness that prevailed, I
missed the way, and Jacopo was of course unable to help me. Groping
onwards we came to a small door, and pushing it, found it to open
easily. It led into a narrow, vaulted passage, where the darkness was
as if a velvet curtain of black hung before us. "I like not the look
of this, excellency," said Jacopo, as we halted in front of the door.

"Keep a drawn sword," I answered, "and follow me."

We could only go in single file, and picked our way with the greatest
care, our feet ringing on the stone floor. Except for this, the
silence was intense, and we could hear no sound of the devilry
outside. The passage continued, until we almost began to think it had
no end, but at last the darkness gave way to a semi-gloom, and a faint
bar of light gleamed ahead of us. At this we increased our pace,
finding a sharp corner, a little beyond which rose a winding flight of
stairs, ending before a half-open door, through which the dim light
came. I put my foot on the first of the steps, and was about to
ascend, when we were startled by hearing a moan of mortal agony,
followed by a laugh, so wild and shrill, so exultant, and yet so full
of malice, that it chilled us to the bone. It pealed through the door,
and echoed down the passage behind us, until the horrid cadence became
fainter and fainter, finally dying away into the black darkness.

"God save us!" exclaimed Jacopo, "it is a fiend laughing its way to
hell."

He went on, with chattering teeth, to adjure me to go no further; but
crossing myself, I bade him be silent, and stepped forwards. Since
that moan of agony, and terrible laugh of triumph, there was no sound,
and I could almost hear my heart beating, as I reached the door.
Jacopo had nerved himself to follow me, and stood pale and trembling
at my shoulder, his sword quivering in his shaking hand. I was myself
not free from fear, for no man may combat with spirits, but after a
moment's hesitation, I looked cautiously in. I saw before me a room of
great size, dimly lighted by two tall candles, burning on each side of
a massive bedstead, on which lay a man bound, and writhing in the
throes of death. The light, though faint around the room, fell full on
the face of the man, and horribly as the features were changed,
distorted as they were, I saw they were those of Alexander, and
that he was in his last agony, alone and friendless in his splendid
palace. Yet not alone, there was another figure in the room. As I
looked, it stepped out of the gloom of the rich curtains at the
window, and standing over the bed, laughed again, that terrible laugh
of devilish joy. At the sound, the dying man moaned through his black,
foam-clothed lips, and Corte, for it was he, bent over the body and
mocked him.

"Roderigo Borgia, Vicar of Christ, hell yawns for you; but a few
moments, Borgia, but a few moments of life; think you, that you suffer
now? There is more coming--things I even cannot dream of." In the face
of Alexander came so awful a look of entreaty that I could bear it no
longer. I stepped into the room, and putting my hand on Corte's
shoulder, said,

"Come, let him die in peace."

He turned on me with a snarl, but recognising me, laughed again.

"Ha! ha! Let him die in peace. Why, man, you saw her die, and can say
this? But he is going too. It is a week since his doctor, Matthew
Corte, bled him for an ague, and touched him with a little knife, just
a little pin-prick. He began to die then; but hell is not yet hot
enough for him. He dies in too much peace. Why, my dog died in more
agony! But he has felt something. See those torn curtains! See this
disordered room! He tore those curtains in his madness. He bit at the
wood of the chairs, he howled like a dog at the moon, and they tied
him here, and left him. I alone watch. I will let him die in peace.
Ha! ha! It is good. I do not want him to die yet. I give him food, and
he lives. In a little while perhaps he will die. But in peace! ha! ha!
I could almost die with laughter, when I hear that. It is too good!
Ha! ha!"

I saw it was hopeless to do anything with Corte, and the Pope was
beyond repair. I might have cut down the madman, but it would have
served no purpose. For a moment I thought I would pass my sword
through the Borgia, and free him from pain. It would have been a
mercy, but I luckily had the sense to restrain myself. Again,
Alexander deserved his fate, and a few minutes more or less would make
no difference. So I left the wretch to die the death of a dog, that
befitted his life, and turning on my heel, went back through the
passage.

Jacopo heaved a sigh of relief as we came out, and I felt a different
man as I ran down the steps of the Scala Regia. Here I met with De
Leyva again, and told him what I had seen.

"The Camerlengo has just gone to him," he answered, referring to the
Pope, "and you have missed D'Amboise. He has returned to the Palazzo
Corneto. I can do nothing here, and am going myself. Do you walk or
ride? I have no horse."

"Walk," I answered, and the Spaniard linked his arm in mine, as,
followed by Jacopo, we took our way back to the cardinal's house.

On reaching I sought D'Amboise at once. He had heard of my arrival,
and was awaiting me. After a brief greeting, I told him his business
was done, and handed him the quittance I had received from Hawkwood.
He was mightily pleased, as may be imagined. I felt it my duty to
inform him of the death of St. Armande, telling him how it occurred,
without in any way disclosing my knowledge of the secret. He was much
affected.

"It is a sad business," he said, "but we have other things to think of
now. _Mon Dieu_! _mon Dieu!_" And to this day I am unaware if he knew
or not.

But the night was not yet over, and late as it was, there were yet
things to be done. About midnight we heard that Alexander was dead,
and a few minutes later Gentil' Orsini hurried to the cardinal. They
held a hasty council, and De Briconnet and I were summoned. News had
come that Cesare had not yet left Ostia, that he was too ill to
travel, and D'Amboise and Orsini resolved on a bold stroke. It was
nothing less than the capture of Borgia. Orsini offered to lend two
hundred lances for the purpose, but a leader was wanted. He could not
go himself, as his archenemy, Fabrizio Colonna, held all Rome on the
left bank of the Tiber, and was in sufficient force to make a dash for
the Borgo at any moment. The short of it was, that at the cardinal's
recommendation, I received the command, and about two in the morning
set out for Ostia. If the ships Cesare had hired had arrived the
matter was ended, and we could do nothing; but if not, there was every
chance of his surrendering without a blow, as although he had about
five hundred men with him, they were not to be relied on, except the
half-dozen cut-throats who formed his personal guard, and who might be
trusted to fight to the last. The luck which had followed me so far
favoured me again, and pressing on as fast as our horses could bear
us, we came up with the fugitives in the early morning. Only one ship,
too small to hold all, had come, and they were crowded on the banks of
the Tiber, making every effort to embark. The river-shore was strewn
with the enormous quantity of baggage they had with them, and a scene
of the utmost confusion took place on our arrival. The ship was
drawing up to the quay, and we could see the litter of the Borgia,
surrounded by the few men who meant to fight. The affair was over in
five minutes, and Cesare was my prisoner. Seeing how matters stood,
the master of the ship anchored in midstream, heedless of the yells
and execrations of the followers of the Borgia, who were not spared by
my men. Indeed, I had great difficulty in keeping Cesare from harm. He
was in truth very ill, but was able to gasp out as he yielded:--

"_Maldetto!_ It is my fate. I had prepared for everything except being
ill." He then lay back in his litter, and spoke no more.

One short and desperate attempt was made to rescue him. About a dozen
horsemen charged right at us, and for a moment it appeared as if they
would succeed. But we were too strong, and although they inflicted
severe loss on us, killing Bande Nere amongst others, they were cut
down, all but one, who led them. This man, seeing all was lost, and
determined not to be taken himself, galloped to the quay, and striking
his spurs home, leaped his horse far into the river, and made for the
vessel. The stream was running fast and strong, but the good beast,
despite his burden, struggled bravely against the flood. To relieve
the horse, the cavalier, having torn off his morion, slipped from the
saddle, and with his hand on the pommel, attempted manfully to swim
beside the animal. The weight of his cuirass, however, bore him down.
Twice his head sank below the water, twice he rose again and battled
with the flood. Those on the ship made no effort to save him, and we
on shore could do nothing. He had now, fighting every inch of his way,
drifted astern of the vessel, and someone flung a rope at him. His
hand reached out to clasp it, but missed, and then the under-current
caught man and horse and dragged them down. He rose yet once again,
his white despairing face turned towards us, and with a supreme effort
of hate, shook his clenched hand at me, and was gone.

So died Crépin D'Entrangues, the death of a brave man, unyielding and
fighting to the last. The yellow Tiber hissed in white foam over the
spot where he sank. Perchance the mad currents dragged his body down
to the slime of the river-bed, picked it up again in their swirl,
tossed it in sport from one to another, and finally flung it to rot on
some lonely bank, where the gulls screamed above it, and the foxes of
the Maremma gnawed at the rusty armour, and snapped and snarled over
the white bones in the moonlight.




                            CHAPTER XXVI.

                       CONCERNING MANY THINGS.


Everyone knows the history of the times, and it is not my intention to
dilate on this, but merely to set down, without comment, those matters
of state in which Fortune allowed me to play a part. When Cesare
surrendered at Ostia the Borgia were broken for ever, and Valentinois
allowed, after a short confinement, to escape to Spain, where he died
like a soldier. Now that the game was in their hands, the allies began
to quarrel amongst themselves, the French king to drivel away his
opportunities in gaiety, and the Venetians to step in, in their Most
Serene way, and claim a share of the spoils for the Lion of St. Mark.
Events moved quickly, the genius of the Great Captain won victory
after victory for Spain, the death of Francis Piccolomini paved the
way for the accession of Rouvere to the Papacy as Julius II., and the
Holy League was formed, by means of which the French were finally
driven from Italy. Thus, in a few years, the work of D'Amboise was
scattered to the winds, but long before that time I had sheathed my
sword, and concerned myself no more with war.

But on the day that I surrendered my prisoner to D'Amboise and Orsini,
the former already in thought sat in St. Peter's Chair, and the
latter, at the very least, imagined himself the Lord of the Romagna. I
sent forward couriers, with the news of my success, to the cardinal,
and ere we reached Malafede, met with a return messenger from
D'Amboise, bearing a brief note of congratulation, and adding that
Colonna had made terms to evacuate the portions of the city he held.
The messenger informed me, that the Bailly of Caen had already entered
Rome by the Porta Pia, and that, finding himself between two fires,
old Fabrizi Colonna had made a virtue of necessity, and by yielding
now, reserved himself for another day. This enabled me to go back by
an easier route than we had come, and as we rode through the Ostian
Gate, I could not help contrasting my present entry to the day when
Jacopo and I had reined in our weary steeds to let the Borgia pass,
and give his following the road. At the Ponte S. Angelo, I surrendered
my prisoner to Orsini in person, and truly thought he would have but a
few hours more to live, for Gentil' Virginio had a long score to
settle with the Borgia, and a longer memory for a wrong. The blood,
too, of Paolo, whom Cesare strangled at Sinigaglia, and that of the
Cardinal Orsini, whom he brutally murdered in Rome, called aloud for
vengeance. Cesare himself seemed to be aware of this, for whereas up
to now he had remained in a sullen silence, he found tongue to implore
me, in the most servile manner, not to deliver him to Orsini, and when
I told him I had no option, he tried to creep out of his litter, and
lay his cap at the feet of his enemy. Orsini spoke nothing, merely
ordering him to be borne to S. Angelo; but as the Borgia shrank back
into his litter, he said with a grim smile that he trusted the duke
would find his entertainment to his liking. How it happened that
Cesare came off with a whole skin I never knew, but he did, as I have
mentioned above, and it surpasses belief. He turned cur at the last,
and the low blood showed in him; but he was one of those men who knew
how to be thoroughly bad. Orsini took back his lances, saying he had
need of them, so that it was with my own few men that I reached the
Palazzo Corneto. I must except Bande Nere from this number, and I was
truly sorry for his death, for his was an honest sword. The cardinal
received me in the little chamber where we had supped with
Machiavelli. He had thrown aside his clerical habit and was in mail,
but wore his barettina on his head. He was more than kind,
congratulating me heartily on my success, going so far as to say that
by capturing Cesare I had given a kingdom to France. I then left him
with further assurances of his goodwill towards me, and saw him no
more for the day.

Towards the small hours of the next morning I was aroused from a deep
sleep by Jacopo. Starting up, I inquired what was astir, and was told
that Defaure, the page, was waiting to see me. I gave orders for his
instant admission, and, on coming in, he informed me that his eminence
desired my immediate attendance. Telling Jacopo to have Castor
saddled, for I smelt work afoot, I flung myself into my clothes, and
hastened to D'Amboise.

He had evidently not slept all night, and was pacing the room in
agitation.

"St. Dennis!" he burst out, as I entered, "do you know what they have
done? The king holds a tourney at Arezzo instead of marching on at
once. What is worse, he has granted an extension of the truce to
Spain, and Tremouille and the rest of them are off to the junkets.
They are making a May-day with those ducats you captured. By God! they
would dance away a kingdom."

"Your eminence has no doubt sent news of the capture of Cesare?"

"That was only yesterday, man," he snapped, "and De Briconnet is
riding for his life to the king. But it is about this I sent for you,"
he went on rapidly. "De Briconnet may come to harm. Here are other
despatches. Take them and follow him; overtake him if you can. When
can you start?"

"Now."

"Good--here are the papers. And this for Tremouille. Adieu!"--and he
held out his hand--"_Monsieur le Compte_."

I started a little at the last words which he uttered in French, but
had no time to ask for explanation or make inquiry. I hurried to my
apartments and found Castor ready. Bidding Jacopo follow me to Arezzo
with my men as soon as possible, I gave Castor the rein and rode out
of Rome. At Citta del Pieve I got my first news of De Briconnet. At
Cartona he was but two hours ahead of me, and when on the afternoon of
the second day I reined in the staggering Castor at the gates of the
Villa Accolti, where the king was, I saw in the courtyard a dead
horse, his sides still bleeding from the spur marks, and judged that
De Briconnet had barely beaten me by a head for all his twelve hours'
start. So once again had I entered the Villa Accolti! And as I sprang
to the ground, loosed the girths over Castor's heaving flanks, and
resigned the reins to a willing groom who led the poor beast to rest,
all the past came back to me with a vivid force, and I looked around,
almost expecting to meet again the glances of scorn and contempt, to
hear once more the hisses, the mockery, and the foul reproach of that
day.

The cardinal was right enough when he said that high junkets were to
be held. And the day seemed to be one of merry-making. Flags were
flying from all parts of the villa, and the wide grounds were full of
the followers of the court, and the townspeople either watching, or
engaged in sports of wrestling, archery, and other games.

For the great ones, however, the out-of-door amusement of the day came
to an end with the dinner-hour, and they were now disporting
themselves within. From the open windows strains of music floated out
into the sunlight and gay figures passed and repassed, or moved in and
out of the balcony overhanging the grand entrance which seemed, from
the constant movement and the brilliant dresses of those who crowded
thereon, to be like a bed of flowers stirring in the wind. As I came
below the balcony, I did not dare to look up, but with my sword in the
loop of my arm and my despatches clenched in my right hand, walked up
the marble steps.

"Post from Rome! Post from the Lord Cardinal!"

The sonorous voice of the ushers pealed this out, and I found myself
at the entrance to the gallery leading to the great hall where I had
been tried.

"Not here, sir--to the left." My way was barred by an equerry in
violet and gold.

"Not so, De Brienne, the king receives these despatches in person,"
and Bayard had linked his arm in mine.

"But, my lord!"

"I take the blame," and Bayard, blazing in full mail, led me through
the gallery whose sides were lined with the archers of the Scottish
Guard. Archers in name only now, and little as my time was, I could
not forbear glancing at these fine troops, who, although few in
number, bore an unequalled reputation for service in the field. The
doors at the entrance to the hall, which were guarded by two gigantic
men-at-arms, were opened only at fixed intervals to let people in and
out, and by this means an attempt was made to avoid overcrowding.
There were a considerable number before us, and having to go slowly,
we had time to exchange a few words.

"I suppose De Briconnet has passed in?" I asked, "he could only have
just arrived, for his horse lies dead at the gates."

"I doubt it. All posts are received by De Vesci, whose wrath we are
going to brave. If De Briconnet came in here direct, he was probably
stopped and sent to the seneschal's apartments."

"If so, as he was the first-comer, he should present the despatches,"
I urged; "I bear but duplicates?"

"There is no time to think of that now," replied Bayard, and as he
spoke the doors unfolded, and in a crash of music and the murmur of
voices, above which now and again trilled a peal of clear feminine
laughter, we entered the hall. At first we were unobserved, for the
interest of every one was gathered to the centre of the room, where to
the strains of music a game of chess was being played with living
figures. The king himself took part in it, and I had good opportunity
of observing him. Time had not changed Louis much, although his
reckless life had enfeebled his constitution. He had the features of
his house, the wide forehead, the oval face, the pointed chin, below
which his short brown beard was neatly trimmed. His grey eyes were set
somewhat wide apart, and his hair, which was naturally straight, he
wore carefully curled, in a length that all but touched his shoulders.
He was dressed in a tight-fitting surcoat of green, with green
trunk-hose and stockings of the same colour. A short cloak, also of
green, fell from his shoulder, and below his left knee was bound the
ribbon of the English Order of the Garter, of which he was very proud.
On his head was a velvet cap lapelled in front and on either side, and
alive with the light of jewels, with which it was studded. He was
playing king in the game, Madame de la Tremouille acting as queen, and
the rival king was Tremouille himself, who had for his partner Isabel
the Good, the wife of Gonsaga of Mantua, a princess distinguished
alike for her beauty and her virtue. A little apart from the players,
and watching the game with a grave interest, stood Etienne de Vesci,
the Seneschal of Beauçaire, who was, after the cardinal, the most
powerful man in France, and, indeed, was supposed by many to have more
of the king's ear. Close by him were a number of ladies, and I ran my
eye amongst them and around the hall, hoping in vain to catch sight of
the one face I longed to see. Whilst so engaged De Vesci observed me,
and seeing the papers in my hand, made an imperious gesture, beckoning
me towards him. This I pretended not to observe, and the seneschal,
biting his lip, edged his way towards me. It was easy to see from my
travelled and stained appearance, the red on my spurs, and the packet
in my hand, that I was the bearer of news.

"Is not monsieur aware," he said in a harsh voice, speaking in French,
"that papers for the king should be brought to me?"

"These are for the king's hand," I answered.

"It is enough. Give them to me," and he held forth his hand.

"I have said, my lord, that they are for His Majesty's own hands."

Bayard, who was watching the game now drawing to a close, turned round
at this, and grasping the matter, cut in.

"_Ciel!_ My Lord, let the cavaliere deliver his packet. It will come
to you soon enough. Take a holiday for once."

De Vesci frowned, and was about to make a hot answer, when there was a
sudden shout and a clapping of hands, and Louis, who had won the game,
came forward leading Madame de la Tremouille in triumph. The last move
was made but a few feet from us, and as the king faced round with his
partner he caught sight of our group and called out as he advanced--

"Victory! We have won. Why those black looks, De Vesci? Come and
congratulate us."

With an effort the seneschal smoothed his face, "Victory always
attends your majesty, and with so fair a partner defeat would be
impossible," and he bowed with a courtly grace; but the wrinkles of
his frown were still on his forehead. The duchess grew red with
pleasure at the compliment, and Louis clapped his hands like a boy.

"Excellent! Trust a courtier's lip for a soft speech;" and then,
observing me, "but what have we here?"

"From Rome, your majesty," and dropping to my knee, I presented my
papers, which the king took irresolutely in his hand.

"_Diable!_" he exclaimed, with an impatient gesture, "from my lord
cardinal no doubt?" And he glanced at me.

"Your majesty, and of the most vital import," and I rose.

"I must read them, I suppose. A plague on the cardinal! We were just
going to the minuet----"

"I will deal with the matter, sire. The papers should have come to
me," and De Vesci, saying this in his harsh, grating voice, reached
forth his hand. Usually a perfect master of his temper, he had
somehow, for once, let it get the better of him; and his closing words
and manner were almost those of command. Louis, though a brave man,
had a weak nature and a hasty temper. A temper that was often aroused
to fits of obstinacy, little short of mulish. He caught the
seneschal's tone, and perhaps also the suppressed smile that nickered
on the faces of his courtiers. His forehead darkened, "You mistake, my
lord, these papers come rightly to me," and turning his back on the
seneschal, he tore open the packet.

De Vesci stepped back, white to the lips, and the court gathered round
the king in silence. Seeing Tremouille at hand, I made bold to step up
to him, and give him D'Amboise's note. He glanced at it, and turning
to me said, "I gave my word, and it shall be kept. The honour of
Tremouille is pledged."

I was at a loss to understand; but had no time to think, for Louis
suddenly called out, "Tremouille--Bayard--gentlemen! The Borgia is
taken! Rome is ours!"

At once there was a buzz, and a murmur of voices, in eager
congratulation at the glad tidings. Standing alone and apart from all,
I could barely see Louis, so closely did the court press around him;
but it seemed that Tremouille was urging something on him, and the
duchess too, for I caught the flash of the jewels on her fingers, as
in her eagerness she laid them on the king's arm. Then Bayard's deep
voice came to me clearly, "If done, 'twere well done quickly, sire."

I do not exactly know how it happened; but I found myself kneeling
before the king, who stood above me, his drawn sword in his hand.

"M. di Savelli," he said, "one king of France owed you his life,
another all but owes you a kingdom. Wear again your cross. It was
nobly won. Take back your knighthood." He laid the blade gently on my
shoulder, "for God, for your King, for your Lady. Arise, Sir Knight!"
He stretched forth his hand to aid me to my feet, and I stood up
again, with my honour white, in the very hall, almost on the very
spot, whence I had been cast out in ignominy and shame.

I could not speak--I was choked--my eyes were wet with tears. Seeing
my emotion, Louis placed his hand kindly on my shoulder.

"Remember, Di Savelli," he said, "France needs you yet. To the minuet,
my lords and ladies--to the minuet!"

And he turned down the hall, not waiting for my thanks. But friends
sprang up everywhere. The first to give me her good wishes was the
Duchesse de la Tremouille, then came the duke, old Ives d'Alegres, and
others I can scarcely name. It was whilst in their midst that I saw a
face I knew well, and Machiavelli came up.

"Late, but not the less warm in my congratulations," he said; "so the
good ship is safe in port at last! We owe you too much for speech, and
can never thank you enough."

"Your excellency is most kind. Is the Lady Angiola well?"

He was silent for a moment, and laughed to himself, as if something
stirred him. "As well as ever she was," he answered at length, and
added, "You must sup with us this evening. We lodge in the Borgo di
San Vito, and never mind your attire. My wife longs to see you, and
thank you in person."

Other friends coming up, our converse was brought to an end, and I
managed to effect my escape, and take refuge in the pavilion of
Bayard, who insisted on my being his guest. I would have willingly
foregone the supper at the Borgo di San Vito, as I was weary; but
having promised, borrowed a horse from my host, and set out. I reached
the secretary's lodging, punctually to the hour, and was received by
Gian, who, after a respectful inquiry concerning my health, ushered me
into an apartment, where, on entering, I found myself alone. I had to
wait some little time, and wondering at the strangeness of my
reception, I walked towards a window, overlooking the private gardens
of the house. As I reached it, I heard the rustle of trailing
garments, and turning round beheld Angiola before me. She came up with
outstretched hands, and I took them in mine, and looked into her eyes.
Then I found words; they come to every man at the right time, and I
spoke. She made no answer as I pleaded my cause, and fearing the
worst, I dropped her hands, with a bitter reproach against my age and
my scarred face. When I had done she remained still, with her eyes
down, and there was a silence. Then she looked up again.

"Di Savelli," and her voice was very low, "you say your face is
scarred by wounds. Do you know, cavaliere, I would I were a man, that
I too might bear wounds on my face, and looking in my mirror, see how
they became me." And the rest concerns not anyone.

                          *   *   *   *   *

We were married before the end of the truce, and on my wedding day, I
received from His Majesty the King, the patents of the county of
Fresnoy, in Guienne, a distinction that was extended to me in Italy,
by His Holiness Pope Pius III., who, on my purchasing a portion of my
ancestral estates back from Amilcar Chigi, confirmed to me the title
in my native land. But the gift I valued most of all, was a tari of
Amalfi, to which still clung a shred of the gold link, by which it had
been attached to a bracelet. And this was from my wife!




                            CHAPTER XXVII.

                         MY LORD, THE COUNT.

       _Portion of a letter from the Countess di Savelli to her
                 cousin Vittoria Ordelaffi of Forli_.


                          *   *   *   *   *

It is, as you know, gentle cousin, six years since my lord, having
lost his sword-arm at the storming of Santa Croce, retired to his
castle of Aquila in the Sabine Mountains, and ceased to help further
in stirring the times. In truth, he has yielded to my wish in this
matter, and although, in the war of the Holy League, he was offered a
command, Di Savelli, at my entreaty, refused the honour.

The count, my lord, is well, but his wounds troubling him in the
winter, he may no longer follow the wolf in our mountains, yet still
hunts the stag in the Ciminian Forests of our kinsman, Amilcar Chigi,
to whom we have been reconciled, and whom we visit yearly.

Last winter we spent in France, at the château of the Seigneur de
Bayard, which lies on the Garonne, and met there, amongst others,
Madame de la Tremouille, who is now a widow, the Duke having died of a
tertian ague at Milan. There also was a very gay and noble gentleman,
the Viscompte de Briconnet, who avers that my lord owes him a county
for having forestalled him in bearing to the king the news of the
surrender of Borgia. My Lord of Bayard, whom the Count thinks above
all men, visits us in the autumn; and, gentle cousin, come you too,
for we are to have a house full. The children are well, and Ugo grows
a strong boy, but wilful. He has his father's features, but my eyes.
They have just gone a riding, my lord on his great war horse Castor,
and Ugo on his little white pony, bred on our farm in the Bergamasque.
I see them as I write, going down the avenue.

Your namesake Vittoria, sends you a hundred kisses, and bids you come
and be heartily welcome. I send this by a sure hand, that of my lord's
esquire, Messer Jacopo Jacopi, a faithful servant and a good sword,
though his tongue be ever wagging. Give him an answer, to say you are
coming.

                          *   *   *   *   *



                               THE END.









End of Project Gutenberg's The Honour of Savelli, by S. (Sidney) Levett-Yeats