diff options
Diffstat (limited to '3408-h/3408-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 3408-h/3408-h.htm | 12540 |
1 files changed, 12540 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/3408-h/3408-h.htm b/3408-h/3408-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a764553 --- /dev/null +++ b/3408-h/3408-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12540 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Shame of Motley, by Rafael Sabatini</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Shame of Motley, by Rafael Sabatini</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Shame of Motley</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Rafael Sabatini</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 6, 2001 [eBook #3408]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 22, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: John Stuart Middleton and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHAME OF MOTLEY ***</div> + +<h1>THE SHAME OF MOTLEY</h1> + +<h3>Being the Memoir of Certain Transactions<br /> +in the Life of Lazzaro Biancomonte, of Biancomonte,<br /> +sometime Fool of the Court of Pesaro.</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Rafael Sabatini</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART1"><b>PART I.FLOWER OF THE QUINCE</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I. THE CARDINAL OF VALENCIA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II. THE LIVERIES OF SANTAFIOR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III. MADONNA PAOLA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV. THE COZENING OF RAMIRO</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V. MADONNA’S INGRATITUDE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI. FOOL’S LUCK</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII. THE SUMMONS FROM ROME</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII. “MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX. THE FOOL-AT-ARMS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X. THE FALL OF PESARO</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PART2"><b>PART II.THE OGRE OF CESENA</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI. MADONNA’S SUMMONS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII. THE GOVERNOR OF CESENA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII. POISON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV. REQUIESCAT!</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER XV. AN ILL ENCOUNTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER XVI. IN THE CITADEL OF CESENA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER XVII. THE SENESCHAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER XVIII. THE LETTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER XIX. DOOMED</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER XX. THE SUNSET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">CHAPTER XXI. AVE CAESAR!</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"></a> +PART I.<br /> +FLOWER OF THE QUINCE</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I.<br /> +THE CARDINAL OF VALENCIA</h2> + +<p> +For three days I had been cooling my heels about the Vatican, vexed by +suspense. It fretted me that I should have been so lightly dealt with after I +had discharged the mission that had brought me all the way from Pesaro, and I +wondered how long it might be ere his Most Illustrious Excellency the Cardinal +of Valencia might see fit to offer me the honourable employment with which +Madonna Lucrezia had promised me that he would reward the service I had +rendered the House of Borgia by my journey. +</p> + +<p> +Three days were sped, yet nought had happened to signify that things would +shape the course by me so ardently desired; that the means would be afforded me +of mending my miserable ways, and repairing the wreck my life had suffered on +the shoals of Fate. True, I had been housed and fed, and the comforts of +indolence had been mine; but, for the rest, I was still clothed in the livery +of folly which I had worn on my arrival, and, wherever I might roam, there +followed ever at my heels a crowd of underlings, seeking to have their tedium +lightened by jests and capers, and voting me—when their hopes proved +barren—the sorriest Fool that had ever worn the motley. +</p> + +<p> +On that third day I speak of, my patience tried to its last strand, I had +beaten a lacquey with my hands, and fled from the cursed gibes his fellows +aimed at me, out into the misty gardens and the chill January air, whose sting +I could, perhaps, the better disregard by virtue of the heat of indignation +that consumed me. Was it ever to be so with me? Could nothing lift the curse of +folly from me, that I must ever be a Fool, and worse, the sport of other fools? +</p> + +<p> +It was there on one of the terraces crowning the splendid heights above +immortal Rome that Messer Gianluca found me. He greeted me courteously; I +answered with a snarl, deeming him come to pursue the plaguing from which I had +fled. +</p> + +<p> +“His Most Illustrious Excellency the Cardinal of Valencia is asking for +you, Messer Boccadoro,” he announced. And so despairing had been my mood +of ever hearing such a summons that, for a moment, I accounted it some fresh +jest of theirs. But the gravity of his fat countenance reassured me. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go, then,” I answered with alacrity, and so confident was I +that the interview to which he bade me was the first step along the road to +better fortune, that I permitted myself a momentary return to the Fool’s +estate from which I thought myself on the point of being for ever freed. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall use the interview to induce his Excellency to submit a tenth +beatitude to the approval of our Holy Father: Blessed are the bearers of good +tidings. Come on, Messer the seneschal.” +</p> + +<p> +I led the way, in my impatience forgetful of his great paunch and little legs, +so that he was sorely tried to keep pace with me. Yet who would not have been +in haste, urged by such a spur as had I? Here, then, was the end of my shameful +travesty. To-morrow a soldier’s harness should replace the motley of a +jester; the name by which I should be known again to men would be that of +Lazzaro Biancomonte, and no longer Boccadoro—the Fool of the golden +mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Thus much had Madonna Lucrezia’s promises led me to expect, and it was +with a soul full of joyous expectation that I entered the great man’s +closet. +</p> + +<p> +He received me in a manner calculated to set me at my ease, and yet there was +about him a something that overawed me. Cesare Borgia, Cardinal of Valencia, +was then in his twenty-third year, for all that there hung about him the +semblance of a greater age, just as his cardinalitial robes lent him the +appearance of a height far above the middle stature that was his own. His face +was pale and framed in a silky auburn beard; his nose was aquiline and strong; +his eyes the keenest that I have ever seen; his forehead lofty and intelligent. +He seemed pervaded by an air of feverish restlessness, something surpassing the +vivida vis animi, something that marked him to discerning eyes for a man of +incessant action of body and of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“My sister tells me,” he said in greeting, “that you are +willing to take service under me, Messer Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such was the hope that guided me to Rome, Most Excellent,” I +answered him. +</p> + +<p> +Surprise flashed into his eyes, and was gone as quickly as it had come. His +thin lips parted in a smile, whose meaning was inscrutable. +</p> + +<p> +“As some reward for the safe delivery of the letter you brought me from +her?” he questioned mildly. +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely, Illustrious,” I answered in all frankness. +</p> + +<p> +His open hand smote the table of wood-mosaics at which he sat. +</p> + +<p> +“Praised be Heaven!” he cried. “You seem to promise that I +shall have in you a follower who deals in truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could your Excellency, to whom my real name is known, expect ought else +of one who bears it—however unworthily?” +</p> + +<p> +There was amusement in his glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you still swagger it, after having worn that livery for three +years?” he asked, and his lean forefinger pointed at my hideous motley of +red and black and yellow. +</p> + +<p> +I flushed and hung my head, and—as if to mock that very expression of my +shame—the bells on my cap gave forth a silvery tinkle at the movement. +</p> + +<p> +“Excellency, spare me,” I murmured. “Did you know all my +miserable story you would be merciful. Did you know with what joy I turned my +back on the Court of Pesaro—” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” he broke in mockingly, “when Giovanni Sforza +threatened to have you hanged for the overboldness of your tongue. Not until +then did it occur to you to turn from the shameful life in which the best years +of your manhood were being wasted. There! Just now I commended your +truthfulness; but the truth that dwells in you is no more, it seems, than the +truth we may look for in the mouth of Folly. At heart, I fear, you are a +hypocrite, Messer Biancomonte; the worst form of hypocrite—a hypocrite to +your own self.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did your Excellency know all!” I cried. +</p> + +<p> +“I know enough,” he answered, with stern sorrow; “enough to +make me marvel that the son of Ettore Biancomonte of Biancomonte should play +the Fool to Costanzo Sforza, Lord of Pesaro. Oh you will tell me that you went +there for revenge, to seek to right the wrong his father did your +father.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was, it was!” I cried, with heated vehemence. “Be flames +everlasting the dwelling of my soul if any other motive drove me to this +shameful trade.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. His beautiful eyes flamed with a sudden light as they rested +on me. Then the lids drooped demurely, and he drew a deep breath. But when he +spoke there was scorn in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“And, no doubt, it was that same motive kept you there, at peace for +three whole years, in slothful ease, the motleyed Fool, jesting and capering +for his enemy’s delectation—you, a man with the knightly memory of +your foully-wronged parent to cry hourly shame upon you. No doubt you lacked +the opportunity to bring the tyrant to account. Or was it that you were content +to let him make a mock of you so long as he housed and fed you and clothed you +in your garish livery of shame? +</p> + +<p> +“Spare me, Excellency,” I cried again. “Of your charity let +my past be done with. When he drove me forth with threats of hanging, from +which your gracious sister saved me, I turned my steps to Rome at her bidding +to—” +</p> + +<p> +“To find honourable employment at my hands,” he interrupted +quietly. Then suddenly rising, and speaking in a voice of +thunder—“And what, then, of your revenge?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“It has been frustrated,” I answered lamely. “Sufficient do I +account the ruin that already I have wrought in my life by the pursuit of that +phantom. I was trained to arms, my lord. Let me discard for good these tawdry +rags, and strap a soldier’s harness to my back.” +</p> + +<p> +“How came you to journey hither thus?” he asked, suddenly turning +the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Madonna Lucrezia’s wish. She held that my errand would be +safer so, for a Fool may travel unmolested.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded that he understood, and paced the chamber with bowed head. For a +spell there was silence, broken only by the soft fall of his slippered feet and +the swish of his silken purple. At last he paused before me and looked up into +my face—for I was a good head taller than he was. His fingers combed his +auburn beard, and his beautiful eyes were full on mine. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a wise precaution of my sister’s,” he approved. +“I will take a lesson from her in the matter. I have employment for you, +Messer Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +I bowed my head in token of my gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall find me diligent and faithful, my lord,” I promised him. +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” he sniffed, “else should I not employ +you.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned from me, and stepped back to his table. He took up a package, +fingered it a moment, then dropped it again, and shot me one of his quiet +glances. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my answer to Madonna Lucrezia’s letter,” he said +slowly, his voice as smooth as silk, “and I desire that you shall carry +it to Pesaro for me, and deliver it safely and secretly into her hands.” +</p> + +<p> +I could do no more than stare at him. It seemed as if my mind were stricken +numb. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he asked at last; and in his voice there was now a +suggestion of steel beneath the silk. “Do you hesitate?” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I do,” I answered, suddenly finding my voice, “I do +no more than might a bolder man. How can I, who am banned by punishment of +death, contrive to penetrate again into the Court of Pesaro and reach the Lady +Lucrezia?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a matter that I shall leave to the shrewd wit which all Italy +says is the heritage of Boccadoro, the Prince of Fools. Does the task daunt +you?” His glance and voice were alike harsh. +</p> + +<p> +In very truth it did, and I told him so, but in the terms which the shrewd wit +he said was mine dictated. +</p> + +<p> +“I hesitate, my lord, indeed; but more because I fear the frustration of +your own ends—whatever they may be—than because I dread to earn a +broken neck by again adventuring into Pesaro. Would not some other +messenger—unknown at the Court of Giovanni Sforza—be in better case +to acquit himself of such a task? +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if I had one I could trust,” he answered frankly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will be open with you, Biancomonte. There are such grave matters at +issue, there are such secrets confided to that paper, that I would not for a +kingdom, not for our Holy Father’s triple crown, that they should fall +into alien hands.” +</p> + +<p> +He approached me again, and his slender hand, upon which the sacred amethyst +was glowing, fell lightly on my shoulder. He lowered his voice “You are +the man, the one man in Italy, whose interests are bound up with mine in this; +therefore are you the one man to whom I can entrust that package.” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” I gasped in amazement—as well I might, for what +interests had Boccadoro, the Fool, in common with Cesare Borgia, Cardinal of +Valencia? +</p> + +<p> +“You,” he answered vehemently, “you, Lazzaro Biancomonte of +Biancomonte, whose father Costanzo of Pesaro stripped of his domains. The +matters in those papers mean the ruin of the Lord of Pesaro. We are all but +ripe to strike at him from Rome and when we strike he shall be so disfigured by +the blow that all Italy shall hold its sides to laugh at the sorry figure he +will cut. I would not say so much to any other living man but you and if I tell +it you it is because I need your aid.” +</p> + +<p> +“The lion and mouse,” I murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Why yes, if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +“And this man is the husband of your sister!” I exclaimed, almost +involuntarily. +</p> + +<p> +“Does that imply a doubt of what I have said?” he flashed, his head +thrown back, his brows drawn suddenly together. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” I hastened to assure him. He smiled softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Maddonna Lucrezia knows all—or nearly all. Of what else she may +need to learn, that letter will inform her. It is the last thread, the last +knot needed, before we can complete the net in which we are to hold that +tyrant? Now, will you bear the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +Would I bear it? Dear God! To achieve the end in view I would have spent my +remaining days in motley, making sport for grooms and kitchen wenches. Some +such answer did I make him, and he smiled his satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall journey as you are,” he bade me. “I am guided by +my sister, assured that the coat of a Fool is stouter protection than the best +hauberk ever tempered. When you have done your errand come you back to me, and +you shall have employment better suited to one who bears the name of +Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may depend upon me in this, my lord,” I promised gravely. +“I shall not fail you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well” said he; and those wondrous eyes of his rested again +upon my face. “How soon can you set out?” +</p> + +<p> +“At once, my lord. Does not the by-word say that a fool makes little +preparation for a journey?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, and moved to a coffer, a beautiful piece of Venetian work in +ultramarine and gold. From this he took a heavy bag. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said he, “you will find the best of all travelling +companions.” I thanked him, and set the bag on the crook of my left arm, +and by its weight I knew how true he was to the notorious splendour of his +race. “And this,” said he, “is a talisman that may serve to +help you out of any evil plight, and open many a door that you may find +locked.” And he handed me a signet ring on which was graven the steer +that is the emblem of the House of Borgia. +</p> + +<p> +He raised aloft the hand on which was glistening the sacred amethyst—two +fingers crooked and two erect. Wondering what this should mean, I stared +inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“Kneel,” he bade me. And realising what he would be about, I sank +on to my knees whilst he murmured the Apostolic benediction over my bowed head. +The rushes of the floor were the only witnesses of the smile that crept to my +lips at this sudden assumption of his churchly office by that most worldly +prince. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II.<br /> +THE LIVERIES OF SANTAFIOR</h2> + +<p> +Such preparations as I had to make were soon complete. +</p> + +<p> +Although it was agreed that I was to travel in the motley, yet, in my +lately-born shame of that apparel, I decided that I would conceal it as best +might be, revealing it only should the need arise. Moreover, it was incumbent +that I should afford myself more protection against the inclement January night +than that of my foliated cape, my crested cap and silken hose. So, a black +cloak, heavy and ample, a broad-brimmed hat, and a pair of riding boots of +untanned leather were my further equipment. In the lining of one of those boots +I concealed the Lord Cesare’s package; his money—some twenty +ducats—I carried in a belt about my waist, and his ring I set boldly on +my finger. +</p> + +<p> +Few moments did it need me to make ready, yet fewer, it seems, would the Borgia +impatience have had me employ; for scarce was I booted when someone knocked at +my door. I opened, and there entered a very mountain of a man, whose corselet +flashed back the yellow light of my tapers, as might have done a mirror, and +whose harsh voice barked out to ask if I was ready. +</p> + +<p> +I had had some former acquaintance with this fellow, having first met him +during the previous year, on the occasion of the Court of Pesaro’s +sojourn at Rome. His name was Ramiro del’ Orca, and throughout the Papal +army it stood synonymous for masterfulness and grim brutality. He was, as I +have said, an enormous man, of prodigious bodily strength, heavy, yet of good +proportions. Of his face one gathered the impression of a blazing furnace. His +cheeks and nose were of a vivid red, and still more fiery was the hair, now +hidden ’neath his morion, and the beard that tapered to a dagger’s +point. His very eyes kept tune with the red harmony of his ferocious +countenance, for the whites were ever bloodshot as a +drunkard’s—which, with no want of truth, men said he was. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” grunted that fiery, self-sufficient vassal, “be +stirring, sir Fool. I have orders to see you to the gates. There is a horse +ready saddled for you. It is the Lord Cardinal’s parting gift. Resolve me +now, which will be the greater ass—the one that rides, or the one that is +ridden?” +</p> + +<p> +“O monstrous riddle!” I exclaimed, as I took up my cloak and hat. +“Who am I that I should solve it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It baffles you, sir Fool?” quoth he. +</p> + +<p> +“In very truth it does.” I ruefully wagged my head so that my bells +set up a jangle. “For the rider is a man and the ridden a horse. +But,” I pursued, in that back-biting strain, which is the very essence of +the jester’s wit, “were you to make a trio of us, including Messer +Ramiro del’ Orca, Captain in the army of his Holiness, no doubt would +then afflict me. I should never hesitate which of the three to pronounce the +ass.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall that mean?” he asked, with darkening brows. +</p> + +<p> +“That its meaning proves obscure to you confirms the verdict I was +hinting at,” I taunted him. “For asses are notoriously of dull +perceptions.” Then stepping forward briskly: “Come, sir,” I +sharply urged him, “whilst we engage upon this pretty play of wit, his +Excellency’s business waits, which is an ill thing. Where is this horse +you spoke of?” +</p> + +<p> +He showed me his strong, white teeth in a very evil smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Were it not for that same business—” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“You would do fine things, I am assured,” I interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Would I not?” he snarled. “By the Host! I should be wringing +your pert neck, or laying bare your bones with a thong of bullock-hide, you ill +conditioned Fool!” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him with pleasant, smiling eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You confirm the opinion that is popularly held of you,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“What may that be?” quoth he, his eyes very evil. “In Rome, +I’m told, they call you hangman.” +</p> + +<p> +He growled in his throat like an angered cur, and his hands were jerked to the +level of his breast, the fingers bending talon-wise. +</p> + +<p> +“Body of God!” he muttered fiercely, “I’ll teach one +fool, at least—” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us cease these pleasantries, I entreat you,” I laughed. +“Saints defend me! If your mood incline to raillery you’ll find +your match in some lad of the stables. As for me, I have not the time, had I +the will, to engage you further. Let me remind you that I would be gone.” +</p> + +<p> +The reminder was well-timed. He bethought him of the journey I must go, on +which he was charged to see me safely started. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, then,” he growled, in a white heat of passion that was +only curbed by the consideration of that slender, pale young cardinal, his +master. +</p> + +<p> +Still, some of his rage he vented in roughly taking me by the collar of my +doublet, and dragging the almost headlong from the room, and so a-down a flight +of steps out into the courtyard. Meet treatment for a Fool—a treatment to +which time might have inured me; for had I not for three years already been +exposed to rough usage of this kind at the hands of every man above the rank of +groom? And had I once rebelled in act as I did in soul, and used the strength +wherewith God endowed me to punish my ill-users, a whip would have reminded me +into what sorry slavery had I sold myself when I put on the motley. +</p> + +<p> +It had been snowing for the past hour, and the ground was white in the +courtyard when we descended. +</p> + +<p> +At our appearance there was a movement of serving-men and a fall of hoofs, +muffled by the snow. Some held torches that cast a ruddy glare upon the +all-encompassing whiteness, and a groom was leading forward the horse that was +destined to bear me. I donned my broad-brimmed hat, and wrapped my cloak about +me. Some murmurs of farewell caught my ears, from those minions with whom I had +herded during my three days at the Vatican. Then Messer del’ Orca thrust +me forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Mount, Fool, and be off,” he rasped. +</p> + +<p> +I mounted, and turned to him. He was a surly dog; if ever surly dog wore human +shape, and the shape was the only human thing about Captain Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother, farewell,” I simpered. +</p> + +<p> +“No brother of yours, Fool,” snarled he. +</p> + +<p> +“True—my cousin only. The fool of art is no brother to the fool of +nature.” +</p> + +<p> +“A whip!” he roared to his grooms. “Fetch me a whip.” +</p> + +<p> +I left him calling for it, as I urged my nag across the snow and over the +narrow drawbridge. Beyond, I stayed a moment to look over my shoulder. They +stood gazing after me, a group of some half-dozen men, looking black against +the whiteness of the ground. Behind them rose the brown walls of the rocca +illumined by the flare of torches, from which the smell of rosin reached my +nostrils as I paused. I waved my hat to them in token of farewell, and digging +my spurless heels into the flanks of my horse, I ambled down through the biting +wind and drifting snow, into the town. +</p> + +<p> +The streets were deserted and dark, save for the ray that here fell from a +window, and there stole through the chink of a door to glow upon the snow in +earnest of the snug warmth within. Silence reigned, broken only by the moan of +the wind under the eaves, for although it was no more than approaching the +second hour of night, yet who but the wight whom necessity compelled would be +abroad in such weather? +</p> + +<p> +All night I rode despite that weather’s foulness—a foulness that +might have given pause to one whose haste to bear a letter was less attuned to +his own supreme desires. +</p> + +<p> +Betimes next morning I paused at a small locanda on the road to Magliano, and +there I broke my fast and took some rest. My horse had suffered by the journey +more than had I, and I would have taken a fresh one at Magliano, but there was +none to be had—so they told me—this side of Narni, wherefore I was +forced to set out once more upon that poor jaded beast that had carried me all +night. +</p> + +<p> +It was high noon when I came, at last, to Narni, the last league of the journey +accomplished at a walk, for my nag could go no faster. Here I paused to dine, +but here, again, they told me that no horses might be had. And so, leading by +the bridle the animal I dared no longer ride, lest I should kill it outright, I +entered the territory of Urbino on foot, and trudged wearily amain through the +snow that was some inches deep by now. In this miserable fashion I covered the +seven leagues, or so, to Spoleto, where I arrived exhausted as night was +falling. +</p> + +<p> +There, at the Osteria del Sole, I supped and lay. I found a company of +gentlemen in the common-room, who upon espying my motley—when I had +thrown off my sodden cloak and hat—pressed me, willy-nilly, into amusing +them. And so I spent the night at my Fool’s trade, giving them drolleries +from the works of Boccacci and Sacchetti—the horn-books of all jesters. +</p> + +<p> +I obtained a fresh horse next morning, and I set out betimes, intending to +travel with a better speed. The snow was thick and soft at first, but as I +approached the hills it grew more crisp. Overhead the sky was of an unbroken +blue, and for all that the air was sharp there was warmth in the sunshine. All +day I rode hard, and never rested until towards nightfall I found myself on the +spurs of the Apennines in the neighborhood of Gualdo, the better half of my +journey well-accomplished. The weather had changed again at sunset. It was +snowing anew, and the north wind was howling like a choir of the damned. +</p> + +<p> +Before me gleamed the lights of a little wayside tavern, and since it might +suit me better to lie there than to journey on to Gualdo, I drew rein before +that humble door, and got down from my wearied horse. Despite the early hour +the door was already barred, for the bedding of travellers formed no part of +the traffic of so lowly a house as this nameless, wayside wine-shop. Theirs was +a trade that ended with the daylight. Nevertheless I was assured they could be +made to find me a rag of straw to lie on, and so I knocked boldly with my whip. +</p> + +<p> +The taverner who opened for me, and stood a moment surveying me by the light of +the torch he held aloft, was a slim, mild-mannered man, not over-clean. Behind +him surged the figure of his wife; just such a woman as you might look to find +the mate of such a man: broad and tall of frame and most scurvily cross-grained +of face. It may well be that had he bidden me welcome, she had driven me back +into the night; but since he made some demur when I asked for lodging, and +protested that in his house was but accommodation too rude to offer my +magnificence, the woman thrust him aside, and loudly bade me enter. +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed her readily, hat on head and cloak about me, lest my interests should +suffer were my trade disclosed. I bade the man see to my horse, and then +escorted by the woman, I made my way to the single room above, which, in +obedience to my demand, she made haste to set at my convenience. +</p> + +<p> +It was an evil-smelling, squalid hole; a bed of wattles in a corner, and in the +centre a greasy table with a three-legged stool and a crazy chair beside it. +The floor was black with age and filth, and broken everywhere by rat-holes. She +set her noisome, smoking oil lamp on the table, and with some apology for the +rudeness of the chamber she asked in tones almost defiant if my excellency +would be content. +</p> + +<p> +“Perforce,” said I ungraciously, perceiving surliness to be the key +to the respect of such a creature; “a king might thank Heaven for a +kennel on such a night as this.” +</p> + +<p> +She bent her back in a clumsy bow, and with a growing humility wondered had I +supped. I had not, but sooner would I have starved than have been poisoned by +such foulnesses as they might have set before me. So I answered her that all I +needed was a cup of wine. +</p> + +<p> +When she had brought me that, and, at last, I was alone, I closed the door. It +had no lock, nor any sort of fastening, so I set the three legged stool against +it that it might give me warning of intrusion. Next I threw off my cloak and +hat and boots, and all dressed as I was I flung myself upon my miserable couch. +But jaded though I might be, it was not yet my intent to sleep. Now that the +half of my journey was accomplished, I found myself beset by doubts which had +not before assailed me, touching the manner in which this mission of mine was +to be accomplished. It would prove no easy thing for me to penetrate unnoticed +into the town of Pesaro, much less into the Sforza Court, where for three years +I had pursued my Fool’s trade. There was scarce a man, a woman or a child +in the entire domains of Giovanni Sforza to whom Boccadoro, the Fool, was not +known; and many a villano, who had never noticed the features of the Lord of +Pesaro, could have told you the very colour of his jester’s eyes; which, +after all, is no strange thing, for—sad reflection!—in a world in +which Wisdom may be overlooked, Folly goes never disregarded. +</p> + +<p> +The garments I wore might be well enough to journey in; but if I would gain the +presence of Lucrezia Borgia I must see that I arrived in others. And then my +thoughts wandered into speculation. What might be this momentous letter that I +carried? What was this secret traffic ’twixt Cesare Borgia and his +sister? Since Cesare had said that it meant the ruin of Giovanni Sforza—a +ruin so utter, so complete and humiliating that it must provoke the scornful +mirth of all Italy—the knowledge of it must soon be mine. Meanwhile I was +an agent of that ruin. Dear God! how that reflection warmed me! What joy I took +in the thought that, though he knew it not, nor could come to know it, I +Lazzaro Biancomonte, whom he had abused and whose spirit he had +broken—was become a tool to expedite the work of abasement and +destruction that was ripening for him. And realizing all this, that letter I +vowed to Heaven I would carry, suffering no obstacle to daunt me, suffering +nothing to turn me from my path. +</p> + +<p> +And then another voice seemed to arise within me, to cry out impatiently: +“Yes, yes; but how?” +</p> + +<p> +I rose, and approaching the table, I took up the jug of wine and poured myself +a draught. I drank it off, and cast the dregs at an inquisitive rat that had +thrust its head above the boards. Then I quenched the light, and flung myself +once more upon my bed, in the hope that darkness would prove a stimulant to +thought and bring me to the solution I was seeking. It brought me sleep +instead. Unconsciously I sank to it, my riddle all unsolved. +</p> + +<p> +I did not wake until the pale sun of that January morning was drawing the +pattern of my lattice on the ceiling. The stormy night had been succeeded by a +calm and sunlit day. And by its light the place wore a more loathsome look than +it had done last night, so that at the very sight of it I leapt from my couch +and grew eager to be gone. I set a ducat on the table, and going to the door I +called my hostess. The stairs creaked presently ’neath her portentous +weight, and, panting slightly, she stood before me. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of me, for I was without my cloak, and my motley was revealed in the +cold, morning light, she cried out in amazement first, and then in +rage—deeming me one of those parasites who tramp the world in the garb of +folly, seeking here a dinner, there a bed, in exchange for some scurvy tumbling +or some witless jests. +</p> + +<p> +“Ossa di Cristo!” was her cry. “Have I housed a Fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I am the first you have housed, your tumbling ruin of a tavern has +been a singularly choice resort. Woman—” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you ‘woman’ me?” she stormed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no,” said I politely. “I was at fault. I’ll keep +the title for your husband—God help him!” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“And are these,” she asked, with a ferocious sarcasm, “the +jests with which you pay the score?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jests?” quoth I. “Score? Pish! More eyes, less tongue would +more befit a hostess who has never housed a fool.” And with a splendid +gesture I pointed to the ducat gleaming on the table. At sight of the gold her +eyes grew big with greed. +</p> + +<p> +“My master—” she began, and coming forward took the piece in +her hand, to assure herself that she was not the dupe of magic. “A fool +with gold!” she marvelled. +</p> + +<p> +“Is a shame to his calling,” I acknowledged. Then—“Get +me a needle and a length of thread,” said I. She scuttled off to do my +bidding, like nothing so much as one of the rats that tenanted her unclean sty. +She was back in a moment, all servility, and wondering whether there was a rent +about me she might make bold to stitch. What a key to courtesy is gold, my +masters! I drove her out, and eager to conciliate me, she went at once. +</p> + +<p> +With my own hands I effected in my doublet the slight repair of which it stood +in need. Then I donned my hat, and, cloak on shoulder, made my way below, +calling for my horse as I descended. +</p> + +<p> +I scorned the wine they proffered me ere I departed. That last night’s +draught had quenched my thirst for ever of such grape-juice as it was theirs to +tender. I urged the taverner to hasten with my horse, and stood waiting in the +squalid common-room, my mind divided ’twixt impatience to resume the road +to Pesaro and fresh speculations upon the means I was to adopt to enter it and +yet save my neck—for this was now become an obsessing problem. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood waiting, there broke upon my ears the sound of an approaching +cavalcade: the noise of voices and the soft fall of hoofs upon the thick snow +carpet. The company halted at the door, and a loud, gruff voice was raised to +cry: +</p> + +<p> +“Locandiere! Afoot, sluggard!” +</p> + +<p> +I stepped to the door, with very natural curiosity, a company of four mounted +men escorting a mule-litter, the curtains of which were drawn so that nothing +might be seen of him or her that rode within. Grooms were those four, as all +the world might see at the first glance, and the livery they wore was that of +the noble House of Santafior—the holy white flower of the quince being +embroidered on the breast of their gabardines. +</p> + +<p> +They bore upon them such signs of hard and hasty travelling that it was soon +guessed they had spent the night in the saddle. Their horses were in a foam of +sweat; and the men themselves were splashed with mud from foot to cap. +</p> + +<p> +Even as I was going forward to regard them the taverner appeared, leading my +horse by the bridle. Now at an inn the traveller that arrives is ever of more +importance than he that departs. At sight of those horsemen, the taverner +forgot my impatience, for he paused to bow in welcome to the one that seemed +the leader. +</p> + +<p> +“Most Magnificent,” said he to that liveried hind, “command +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We need a guide,” the fellow answered with an ill grace. +</p> + +<p> +“A guide, Illustrious?” quoth the host. “A guide?” +</p> + +<p> +“I said a guide, fool,” answered him the groom. “Heard you +never of such animals? We need a man who knows the hills, to lead us by the +shortest road to Cagli.” +</p> + +<p> +The taverner shook his grey head stupidly. He bowed again until I fancied I +could hear the creak of his old joints. +</p> + +<p> +“Here be no guides, Magnificent,” he deplored. “Perhaps at +Gualdo—” +</p> + +<p> +“Animal,” was the retort—for true courtesy commend me to a +lacquey!—“it is not our wish to pursue the road as far as Gualdo, +else had we not stopped at this kennel of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +I scarce know what it can have been that moved me to act as I then did, for, in +the truth, the manner of that rascal of a groom was little prepossessing, and +his master, I doubted, could be little better that he left the fellow to hector +it thus over that wretched tavern oaf. But I stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you say that you were journeying to Cagli?” questioned I. +</p> + +<p> +He eyed me sourly, suspicion writ athwart his round, ill-favoured face, But my +motley was hidden from his sight. My cloak, my hat and boots allowed naught of +my true condition to appear, and might as well have covered a lordling as a +jester. Yet his inveterate surliness the rascal could not wholly conquer. +</p> + +<p> +“What may be the purpose of your question?” he growled. +</p> + +<p> +“To serve your master, whoever he may be,” I answered him serenely, +“although it is a service I do not press upon him. I, too, am journeying +to Cagli, and like yourselves, I am in haste and go the shorter way across the +hills, with which I am well acquainted. If it so please you to follow me your +need of a guide may thus be satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the tone to take if I would be respected. Had I proposed that we should +journey in company I should not have earned me the half of the deference which +was accorded to my haughtily granted leave that they might follow me if they so +chose. +</p> + +<p> +With marked submission did he give me thanks in his master’s name. +</p> + +<p> +I mounted and set out, and at my heels came now the litter and its escort. Thus +did we quit the plain and breast the slopes, where the snow grew deeper and +firmer underfoot as we advanced. And as I went, still plaguing my mind to +devise a means by which I might penetrate to the Court of Pesaro, little did I +dream that the matter was being solved for me—the solution having begun +with my offer to guide that company across the hills. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III.<br /> +MADONNA PAOLA</h2> + +<p> +We gained the heights in the forenoon, and there we dismounted and paused +awhile to breathe our horses ere we took the path that was to lead us down to +Cagli. The air was sharp and cold, for all that overhead was spread a +cloudless, cobalt dome of sky, and the sun poured down its light upon the wide +expanse of snow-clad earth, of a whiteness so dazzling as to be hurtful to the +sight. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto I had ridden stolidly ahead, as unheeding of that following company as +if I had been unconscious of its existence. But now that we paused, their fat, +white-faced leader, whose name was Giacopo, approached me and sought to draw me +into conversation. I yielded readily enough, for I scented a mystery about that +closely-curtained litter, and mysteries are ever provoking to such a mind as +mine. For all that it might profit me naught to learn who rode there, and why +with all this haste, yet these were matters, I confess, on which my curiosity +was aroused. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you journeying beyond Cagli?” I asked him presently, in an +idle tone. +</p> + +<p> +He cocked his head, and eyed me aslant, the suspicion in his eyes confirming +the existence of the mystery I scented. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, after a pause. “We hope to reach Urbino +before night. And you? Are you journeying far?” +</p> + +<p> +“That far, at least,” I answered him, emulating the caution he had +shown. +</p> + +<p> +And then, ere more might pass between us, the leather curtains of the litter +were sharply drawn aside. At the sound I turned my head, and so far was the +vision different from that which—for no reason that I can give—I +had expected, that I was stricken with surprise and wonder. A lady—a very +child, indeed—had leapt nimbly to the ground ere any of those grooms +could offer her assistance. +</p> + +<p> +She was, I thought, the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen, and to one +who had read the famous work of Messer Firenzuola on feminine beauty it might +seem, at first, that here stood the incarnation of that writer’s +catalogue of womanly perfections. She was of a good shape and stature, despite +her tender years; her face was oval, delicately featured and of an ivory +pallor. Her eyes—blue as the heavens overhead—were not of the +colour most approved by Firenzuola, nor was her hair of the golden brown which +that arbiter commends. Had Firenzuola seen her, it may well be that he had +altered or modified his views. She was sumptuously arrayed in a loose-sleeved +camorra of grey velvet that was heavy with costly furs; above the lenza of fine +linen on her head gleamed the gold thread of a jewelled net, and at her waist a +girdle of surpassing richness, all set with gems, glowed like a thing of fire +in the bright sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +She took a deep breath of the sharp, invigorating air, then looked about her, +and espying me in conversation with Giacopo she approached us across the +gleaming snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this,” she inquired, and her sweet, melodious voice was a +perfect match to the graceful charm of her whole presence, “the traveller +who so kindly consented to fill for us the office of a guide?” +</p> + +<p> +Giacopo answered briefly that I was that man. +</p> + +<p> +“I am in your debt, sir,” she protested, with an odd earnestness. +“You do not know how great a service you have rendered me. But if at any +time Paola Sforza di Santafior may be able to discharge this obligation, you +shall find me very willing.” +</p> + +<p> +White-faced, black-browed Giacopo scowled at this proclamation of her identity. +</p> + +<p> +I made her a low bow, and answered coldly, brusquely almost, for I hated the +very name of Sforza, and every living thing that bore it. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, you overrate my service. It so chanced that I was travelling +this way.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked more closely at me, as if she would have sought the reason of my +churlish tone, and I was strangely thankful that she could not see the motley +worn by the muffled stranger who confronted her. No doubt she accounted me a +clown, whose nature inclined to surliness, and so she turned away, telling +Giacopo that as soon as the horses were breathed they might push on. +</p> + +<p> +“We must rest them yet awhile, Madonna,” answered he, “if +they are to carry us as far as Cagli. Heaven send that we may obtain fresh +cattle there, else is all lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Her frown proclaimed how much his words displeased her. +</p> + +<p> +“You forget that if there are no horses for us, neither are there any for +those others.” And she waved her hand towards the valley below and the +road by which we had come. From this and from what was said I gathered that +they were a party of fugitives with pursuers at their heels. +</p> + +<p> +“They have a warrant which we have not,” was Giacopo’s +answer, gloomily delivered, “and they will seize cattle where they can +find it.” +</p> + +<p> +With a little gesture of impatience, more at his fears than at the peril that +aroused them, she moved away towards her litter. +</p> + +<p> +“Your horse would be better for the loan of your cloak, sir +stranger,” said Giacopo to me. +</p> + +<p> +I knew him to be right, but shrugged my shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Better the horse should die of cold than I,” I answered gruffly, +and turning from him I set myself to pace the snow and stir the blood that was +chilling in my veins. +</p> + +<p> +There was a beauty in the white, sunlit landscape spread before me that +compelled my glance. To some it might compare but ill with the luxuriant +splendour that is of the vernal season; but to me there was a wondrously +impressive charm about that solemn, silent, virginal expanse of snow, +expressionless as the Sphinx, and imposing and majestic by virtue of that very +lack of expression. From Fabriano, at our feet, was spread to the east, the +broad plain that lies twixt the Esino and the Masone, as far as Mount Comero, +which, in the distance, lifted its round shoulder from the haze of sea. To the +west the country lay under the same winding-sheet of snow as far as eye might +range, to the towers of distant Perugia, to the Lake Trasimeno—a silver +sheen that broke the white monotony—to Etruscan Cortona, perched like an +eyrie on its mountain top, and to the line of Tuscan hills, like heavy, +low-lying clouds upon the blue horizon. +</p> + +<p> +Lost was I in the contemplation of that scene when a cry, succeeded by a volley +of horrid blasphemy, drew my attention of a sudden to my companions. They stood +grouped together, and their eyes were on the road by which we had scaled those +heights. Their first expression of loud astonishment had been succeeded by an +utter silence. I stepped forward to command a better view of what they +contemplated, and in the plain below, midway between Narni and the slopes, a +mile or so behind us, I caught a glitter as of a hundred mirrors in the +sunshine. A company of some dozen men-at-arms it was, riding briskly along the +tracks we had left behind us in the snow. Could these be the pursuers? +</p> + +<p> +Even as I formed the question in my mind, the lady’s silvery voice, +behind me, put it into words. She had drawn aside the curtains of her litter +and she was leaning out, her eyes upon those dancing points of brilliance. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” cried one of her grooms, in a quaver of alarm, +“they are Borgia soldiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your fear is father to that opinion,” she answered scornfully. +“How can you descry it at this distance?” +</p> + +<p> +Now, either God had given that knave an eagle’s sight, or else, as she +suggested, fear spurred his imagination and begot his certainty of what he +thought he saw. +</p> + +<p> +“The leader’s bannerol bears the device of a red bull,” he +answered promptly. +</p> + +<p> +I thought she paled a little, and her brows contracted. +</p> + +<p> +“In God’s name, let us get forward, then!” cried Giacopo. +“Orsu! To horse, knaves!” +</p> + +<p> +No second bidding did they need. In the twinkling of an eye they were in the +saddle, and one of them had caught the bridle of the leading mule of the +litter. Giacopo called to me to lead the way with him, with no more ceremony +than if I had been one of themselves. But I made no ado. A chase is an +interesting business, whatever your point of view, and if a greater safety lies +with the hunter, there is a keener excitement with the hunted. +</p> + +<p> +Down that steep and slippery hillside we blundered, making for Cagli at a pace +in which there lay a myriad-fold more danger than could menace us from any +party of pursuers. But fear was spur and whip to the unreasoning minds of those +poltroons, and so from the danger behind us we fled, and courted a more deadly +and certain peril in the fleeing. At first I sought to remonstrate with +Giacopo; but he was deaf to the wisdom that I spoke. He turned upon me a face +which terror had rendered whiter than its natural habit, white as the egg of a +duck, with a hint of blue or green behind it. I had, besides, an ugly +impression of teeth and eyeballs. +</p> + +<p> +“Death is behind us, sir,” he snarled. “Let us get on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Death is more assuredly before you,” I answered grimly. “If +you will court it, go your way. As for me, I am over-young to break my neck and +be left on the mountain-side to fatten crows. I shall follow at my +leisure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gesu!” he cried, through chattering teeth. “Are you a +coward, then?” +</p> + +<p> +The taunt would have angered me had his condition been other than it was; but +coming from one so possessed of the devil of terror, it did no more than +provoke my mirth. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, then, valiant runagate,” I laughed at him. +</p> + +<p> +And on we went, our horses now plunging, now sliding down yard upon yard of +moving snow, snorting and trembling, more reasoning far than these rational +animals that bestrode them. Twice did it chance that a man was flung from his +saddle, yet I know not what prayers Madonna may have been uttering in her +litter, to obtain for us the miracle of reaching the plain with never so much +as a broken bone. +</p> + +<p> +Thus far had we come, but no farther, it seemed, was it possible to go. The +horses, which by dint of slipping and sliding had encompassed the descent at a +good pace, were so winded that we could get no more than an amble out of them, +saving mine, which was tolerably fresh. +</p> + +<p> +At this a new terror assailed the timorous Giacopo. His head was ever turned to +look behind—unfailing index of a frightened spirit; his eyes were ever on +the crest of the hills, expecting at every moment to behold the flash of the +pursuers’ steel. The end soon followed. He drew rein and called a halt, +sullenly sitting his horse like a man deprived of wit—which is to pay him +the compliment of supposing that he ever had wit to be deprived of. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly the curtain-rings rasped, and Madonna Paola’s head appeared, +her voice inquiring the reason of this fresh delay. +</p> + +<p> +Sullenly Giacopo moved his horse nearer, and sullenly he answered her. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, our horses are done. It is useless to go farther.” +</p> + +<p> +“Useless?” she cried, and I had an instance of how sharply could +ring the voice that I had heard so gentle. “Of what do you talk, you +knave? Ride on at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is vain to ride on,” he answered obdurately, insolence rising +in his voice. “Another half-league—another league at most, and we +are taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cagli is less than a league distant,” she reminded him. +“Once there, we can obtain fresh horses. You will not fail me now, +Giacopo!” +</p> + +<p> +“There will be delays, perforce, at Cagli,” he reminded her, +“and, meanwhile, there are these to guide the Borgia sbirri.” And +he pointed to the tracks we were leaving in the snow. +</p> + +<p> +She turned from him, and addressed herself to the other three. +</p> + +<p> +“You will stand by me, my friends,” she cried. “Giacopo, +here, is a coward; but you are better men.” They stirred, and one of them +was momentarily moved into a faint semblance of valour. +</p> + +<p> +“We will go with you, Madonna,” he exclaimed. “Let Giacopo +remain behind, if so he will.” +</p> + +<p> +But Giacopo was a very ill-conditioned rogue; neither true himself, nor +tolerant, it seemed, of truth in others. +</p> + +<p> +“You will be hanged for your pains when you are caught!” he +exclaimed, “as caught you will be, and within the hour. If you would save +your necks, stay here and make surrender.” +</p> + +<p> +His speech was not without effect upon them, beholding which, Madonna leapt +from the litter, the better to confront them. The corners of her sensitive +little mouth were quivering now with the emotion that possessed her, and on her +eyes there was a film of tears. +</p> + +<p> +“You cowards!” she blazed at them, “you hinds, that lack the +spirit even to run! Were I asking you to stand and fight in defence of me, you +could not show yourselves more palsied. I was a fool,” she sobbed, +stamping her foot so that the snow squelched under it. “I was a fool to +entrust myself to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” answered one of them, “if flight could still avail +us, you should not find us stubborn. But it were useless. I tell you again, +Madonna, that when I espied them from the hill-top yonder, they were but a +half-league behind. Soon we shall have them over the mountain, and we shall be +seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool!” she cried, “a half-league behind, you say; and you +forget that we were on the summit, and they had yet to scale it. If you but +press on we shall treble that distance, at least, ere they begin the descent. +Besides, Giacopo,” she added, turning again to the leader, “you may +be at fault; you may be scared by a shadow; you may be wrong in accounting them +our pursuers.” +</p> + +<p> +The man shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and grunted. +</p> + +<p> +“Arnaldo, there, made no mistake. He told us what he saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now Heaven help a poor, deserted maid, who set her trust in curs!” +she exclaimed, between grief and anger. +</p> + +<p> +I had been no better than those hinds of hers had I remained unmoved. I have +said that I hated the very name of Sforza; but what had this tender child to do +with my wrongs that she should be brought within the compass of that hatred? I +had inferred that her pursuers were of the House of Borgia, and in a flash it +came to me that were I so inclined I might prove, by virtue of the ring I +carried, the one man in Italy to serve her in this extremity. And to be of +service to her, her winsome beauty had already inflamed me. For there was I +know not what about this child that seemed to take me in its toils, and so +wrought upon me that there and then I would have risked my life in her good +service. Oh, you may laugh who read. Indeed, deep down in my heart I laughed +myself, I think, at the heroics to which I was yielding—I, the Fool, most +base of lacqueys—over a damsel of the noble House of Santafior. It was +shame of my motley, maybe, that caused me to draw my cloak more tightly about +me as I urged forward my horse, until I had come into their midst. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” said I bluntly and without preamble, “can I assist +you? I have inferred your case from what I have overheard.” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes were on me, gaping with surprise—hers no less than her +grooms’. +</p> + +<p> +“What can you do alone, sir?” she asked, her gentle glance upraised +to mine. +</p> + +<p> +“If, as I gather, your pursuers are servants of the House of Borgia, I +may do something.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are,” she answered, without hesitation, some eagerness, even, +investing her tones. +</p> + +<p> +It may seem an odd thing that this lady should so readily have taken a stranger +into her confidence. Yet reflect upon the parlous condition in which she found +herself. Deserted by her dispirited grooms, her enemies hot upon her heels, she +was in no case to trifle with assistance, or to despise an offer of services, +however frail it might seem. With both hands she clutched at the slender hope I +brought her in the hour of her despair. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” she cried, “if indeed it lies in your power to help +me, you could not find it in your heart to be sparing of that power did you but +know the details of my sorry circumstance.” +</p> + +<p> +“That power, Madonna, it may be that I have,” said I, and at those +words of mine her servants seemed to honour me with a greater interest. They +leaned forward on their horses and eyed me with eyes grown of a sudden hopeful. +“And,” I continued, “if you will have utter faith in me, I +see a way to render doubly certain your escape.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up into my face, and what she saw there may have reassured her that +I promised no more than I could accomplish. For the rest she had to choose +between trusting me and suffering capture. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said she, “I do not know you, nor why you should +interest yourself in the concerns of a desolated woman. But, Heaven knows, I am +in no case to stand pondering the aid you offer, nor, indeed, do I doubt the +good faith that moves you. Let me hear, sir, how you would propose to serve +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whence are you?” I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“From Rome,” she informed me without hesitation, “to seek at +my cousin’s Court of Pesaro shelter from a persecution to which the +Borgia family is submitting me.” +</p> + +<p> +At her cousin’s Court of Pesaro! An odd coincidence, this—and while +I was pondering it, it flashed into my mind that by helping her I might assist +myself. Had aught been needed o strengthen my purpose to serve her, I had it +now. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” said I, surprise investing my voice, “at Pesaro there +is Madonna Lucrezia of that same House of Borgia.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled away the doubt my words implied. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna Lucrezia is my friend,” said she; “as sweet and +gentle a friend as ever woman had, and she will stand by me even against her +own family.” +</p> + +<p> +Since she was satisfied of that, I waived the point, and returned to what was +of more immediate interest. +</p> + +<p> +“And you fled,” said I, “with these?” And I indicated +her attendants. “Not content to leave the clearest of tracks behind you +in the snow, you have had yourself attended by four grooms in the livery of +Santafior. So that by asking a few questions any that were so inclined might +follow you with ease.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened wide her eyes at that. Oftentimes have I observed that it needs a +fool to teach some elementary wisdom to the wise ones of this world. I leapt +from my saddle and stood in the road beside her, the bridle on my arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen now, Madonna. If you would make good your escape it first imports +that you should rid yourself of this valiant escort. Separate from it for a +little while. Take you my horse—it is a very gentle beast, and it wilt +carry you with safety—and ride on, alone, to Cagli.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alone?” quoth she, in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” I answered gruffly. “What of that? At the Inn of +‘The Full Moon’ ask for the hostess, and tell her that you are to +await an escort there, begging her, meanwhile, to place you under her +protection. She is a worthy soul, or else I do not know one, and she will +befriend you readily. But see to it that you tell her nothing of your +affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” she inquired eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, wait you there until to-night, or even until to-morrow morning, +for these knaves to rejoin you to the end that you may resume your +journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we—” began Giacopo. Scenting his protest, I cut him +short. +</p> + +<p> +“You four,” said I, “shall escort me—for I shall +replace Madonna in the litter—you shall escort me towards Fabriano. Thus +shall we draw the pursuit upon ourselves, and assure your lady a clear road of +escape.” +</p> + +<p> +They swore most roundly and with great circumstance of oaths that they would +lend themselves to no such madness, and it took me some moments to persuade +them that I was possessed of a talisman that should keep us all from harm. +</p> + +<p> +“Were it otherwise, dolts, do you think I should be eager to go with you? +Would any chance wayfarer so wantonly imperil his neck for the sake of a lady +with whom he can scarce be called acquainted?” +</p> + +<p> +It was an argument that had weight with them, as indeed, it must have had with +the dullest. I flashed my ring before their eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“This escutcheon,” said I, “is the shield that shall stand +between us and danger from any of the house that bears these arms.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus I convinced and wrought upon them until they were ready to obey +me—the more ready since any alternative was really to be preferred to +their present situation. In danger they already stood from those that followed +as they well knew; and now it seemed to them that by obeying one who was armed +with such credentials, it might be theirs to escape that danger. But even as I +was convincing them, by the same arguments was I sowing doubts in the +lady’s subtler mind. +</p> + +<p> +“You are attached to that house?” quoth she, in accents of +mistrust. She wanted to say more. I saw it in her eyes that she was wondering +was there treachery underlying an action so singularly disinterested as to +justify suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” said I, “if you would save yourself I implore that +you will trust me. Very soon your pursuers will be appearing on those heights, +and then your chance of flight will be lost to you. I will ask you but this: +Did I propose to betray you into their hands, could I have done better than to +have left you with your grooms?” +</p> + +<p> +Her face lighted. A sunny smile broke on me from her heavenly eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I should have thought of that,” said she. And what more she would +have added I put off by urging her to mount. +</p> + +<p> +Sitting the man’s saddle as best she might—well enough, indeed, to +fill us all with surprise and admiration—she took her leave of me with +pretty words of thanks, which again I interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“You have but to follow the road,” said I, “and it will bring +you straight to Cagli. The distance is a short league, and you should come +there safely. Farewell, Madonna!” +</p> + +<p> +“May I not know,” she asked at parting, “the name of him that +has so generously befriended me?” +</p> + +<p> +I hesitated a second. Then—“They call me Boccadoro,” answered +I. +</p> + +<p> +“If your mouth be as truly golden as your heart, then are you +well-named,” said she. Then, gathering her mantle about her, and waving +me farewell, she rode off without so much as a glance at the cowardly hinds who +had failed her in the hour of her need. +</p> + +<p> +A moment I stood watching her as she cantered away in the sunshine; then +stepping to the litter, I vaulted in. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, rogues,” said I to the escort, “strike me that road to +Fabriano.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know you not, sir,” protested Giacopo. “But this I +know—that if you intend us treachery you shall have my knife in your +gullet for your pains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool!” I scorned him, “since when has it been worth the +while of any man to betray such creatures as are you? Plague me no more! Be +moving, else I leave you to your coward’s fate.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the tone best understood by hinds of their lily-livered quality. It +quelled their faint spark of mutiny, and a moment later one of those knaves had +caught the bridle of the leading mule and the litter moved forward, whilst +Giacopo and the others came on behind at as brisk a pace as their weary horses +would yield. In this guise we took the road south, in the direction opposite to +that travelled by the lady. As we rode, I summoned Giacopo to my side. +</p> + +<p> +“Take your daggers,” I bade him, “and rip me that blazon from +your coats. See that you leave no sign about you to proclaim you of the House +of Santafior, or all is lost. It is a precaution you would have taken earlier +if God had given you the wit of a grasshopper.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded that he understood my order, and scowled his disapproval of my +comment on his wit. For the rest, they did my bidding there and then. +</p> + +<p> +Having satisfied myself that no betraying sign remained about them, I drew the +curtains of my litter, and reclining there I gave myself up to pondering the +manner in which I should greet the Borgia sbirri when they overtook me. From +that I passed on to the contemplation of the position in which I found myself, +and the thing that I had done. And the proportions of the jest that I was +perpetrating afforded me no little amusement. It was a burla not unworthy the +peerless gifts of Boccadoro, and a fitting one on which to close his wild +career of folly. For had I not vowed that Boccadoro I would be no more once the +errand on which I travelled was accomplished? By Cesare Borgia’s grace I +looked to— +</p> + +<p> +A sudden jolt brought me back to the immediate present, and the realisation +that in the last few moments we had increased our pace. I put out my head. +</p> + +<p> +“Giacopo!” I shouted. He was at my side in an instant. “Why +are we galloping?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are behind,” he answered, and fear was again overspreading +his fat face. “We caught a glimpse of them as we mounted the last +hill.” +</p> + +<p> +“You caught a glimpse of whom?” quoth I. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of the Borgia soldiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Animal,” I answered him, “what have we to do with them? They +may have mistaken us for some party of which they are in pursuit. But since we +are not that party, let your jaded beasts travel at a more reasonable speed. We +do not wish to have the air of fugitives.” +</p> + +<p> +He understood me, and I was obeyed. For a half-hour we rode at a more gentle +pace. That was about the time they took to come up with us, still a league or +so from Fabriano. We heard their cantering hoofs crushing the snow, and then a +loud imperious voice shouting to us a command to stay. Instantly we brought up +in unconcerned obedience, and they thundered alongside with cries of triumph at +having run their prey to earth. +</p> + +<p> +I cast aside my hat, and thrust my motleyed head through the curtains with a +jangle of bells, to inquire into the reason of this halt. Whom my appearance +astounded the more—whether the lacqueys of Santafior, or the Borgia +men-at-arms that now encircled us—I cannot guess. But in the crowd of +faces that confronted me there was not one but wore a look of deep amazement. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV.<br /> +THE COZENING OF RAMIRO</h2> + +<p> +The cavalcade that had overtaken us proved to number some twenty men-at-arms, +whose leader was no less a person than Ramiro del’ Orca—that same +mountain of a man who had attended my departure from the Vatican three nights +ago. From the circumstance that so important a personage should have been +charged with the pursuit of the Lady of Santafior, I inferred that great issues +were at stake. +</p> + +<p> +He was clad in mail and leather, and from his lance fluttered the bannerol +bearing the Borgia arms, which had announced his quality to Madonna’s +servants. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of me his bloodshot eyes grew round with wonder, and for a little +season a deathly calm preceded the thunder of his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Sainted Host!” he roared at last. “What trickery may this +be?” And sidling his horse nearer he tore aside the curtains of my +litter. +</p> + +<p> +Out of faces pale as death the craven grooms looked on, to behold me reclining +there, my cloak flung down across my legs to hide my boots, and my motley garb +of red and black and yellow all revealed. I believe their astonishment by far +surpassed the Captain’s own. +</p> + +<p> +“You are choicely met, Ser Ramiro,” I greeted him. Then, seeing +that he only stared, and made no shift to speak: “Maybe,” quoth I, +“you’ll explain why you detain me. I am in haste.” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain?” he thundered. “Sangue di Cristo! The burden of +explaining lies with you. What make you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” answered I, in tones of deep astonishment, “I am about +the business of the Lord Cardinal of Valencia, our master.” +</p> + +<p> +“Davvero?” he jeered. He stretched out a mighty paw, and took me by +the collar of my doublet. “Now, bethink you how you answer me, or there +will be a fool the less in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, the world might spare more.” +</p> + +<p> +He scowled at my pleasantry. To him, apparently, the situation afforded no +scope for philosophical reflections. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the girl?” he asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Girl?” quoth I. “What girl? Am I a mother-abbess, that you +should set me such a question?” +</p> + +<p> +Two dark lines showed between his brows. His voice quivered with passion. +</p> + +<p> +“I ask you again—where is the girl?” +</p> + +<p> +I laughed like one who is a little wearied by the entertainment provided for +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Here be no girls, Messer del’ Orca,” I answered him in the +same tone. “Nor can I think what this babble of girls portends.” +</p> + +<p> +My seeming innocence, and the assurance with which I maintained the expression +of it, whispered a doubt into his mind. He released me, and turned upon his +men, a baffled look in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Was not this the party?” he inquired ferociously. “Have you +misled me, beasts? +</p> + +<p> +“It seemed the party, Illustrious,” answered one of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you dare tell me that ‘it seemed’?” he roared, +seeking to father upon them the blunder he was beginning to fear that he had +made. “But—What is the livery of these knaves? +</p> + +<p> +“They wear none,” someone answered him, and at that answer he +seemed to turn limp and lose his fierce assurance. +</p> + +<p> +Then he bridled afresh. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet the party, I’ll swear, is this!” he insisted; and +turning once more to me: “Explain, animal!” he bade me in +terrifying tones. “Explain, or, by the Host! be you ignorant or not, +I’ll have you hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +I accounted it high time to take another tone with him. Hanging was a +discomfort I was never less minded to suffer. +</p> + +<p> +“Draw nearer, fool,” said I contemptuously, and at the epithet, so +greatly did my audacity amaze him, he mildly did my bidding. +</p> + +<p> +“I know not what doubts are battling in your thick head, sir +captain,” I pursued. “But this I know—that if you persist in +hindering me, or commit the egregious folly of offering me violence, you will +answer for it, hereafter, to the Lord Cardinal of Valencia. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going upon a secret mission”—and here I sank my voice +to a whisper for his ears alone—“in the service of the house that +hires you, as for yourself you might easily have inferred. Behold.” And I +revealed my ring. “Detain me longer at your peril.” +</p> + +<p> +He must have had some notion of the fact that I was journeying in Cesare +Borgia’s service, and this coupled with the sight of that talisman +effected in his manner a swift and wholesome change. Had I, arrayed in the +panoply of Mother Church, defied the devil, my victory could not have been more +complete. +</p> + +<p> +He looked about him like a man whose wits have been scattered suddenly to the +four winds of Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +“But this litter,” he mumbled, riveting his dazed eyes upon me, +“and these four knaves—?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” I questioned, with sudden earnestness, “are you in +quest of just such a party?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye that I am,” he answered sharply, intelligence returning to his +glance, inquiry burning in it. +</p> + +<p> +“And would the men, peradventure, be wearing the livery of the House of +Santafior?” +</p> + +<p> +His quick assent came almost choked in a company of oaths. +</p> + +<p> +“Why then, if that be your quarry, you are but wasting time. Such a party +passed us at the gallop about an hour ago. It would be an hour, would it not, +Giacopo?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say an hour,” answered the lacquey dully. +</p> + +<p> +“In what direction?” came Ramiro’s frenzied question. He +doubted me no longer. +</p> + +<p> +“In the direction of Fabriano I should say,” I answered. +“Although it may well be that they were making for Sinigaglia. The road +branches farther on.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited for no more. Without word of thanks for the priceless information I +had given him, he wheeled his horse, and shouted a hoarse command to his +followers. A moment later and they were cantering past us, the snow flying +beneath their hoofs; within five minutes the last of them had vanished round an +angle of the road, and the only indication of the halt they had made was the +broad path of dirty brown where their horses had crushed the snow. +</p> + +<p> +I have been an actor in few more entertaining comedies than the cozening of Ser +Ramiro, and a witness of nothing that afforded me at once so much relief and +relish as his abrupt departure. I sank back on the cushions of my litter, and +gave myself over to a burst of full-souled laughter which was interrupted ere +it was half done by Giacopo, who had dismounted and approached me. +</p> + +<p> +“You have fooled us finely,” said he, with venom. +</p> + +<p> +I quenched my laughter to regard him. Of what did he babble? Was he, and were +his fellows, too, so ungrateful as to bear a grudge against the man who had +saved them? +</p> + +<p> +“You have fooled us finely,” he insisted in a louder voice. +</p> + +<p> +“That, knave, is my trade,” said I. “But it rather seems to +me that it was Messer Ramiro del’ Orca whom I fooled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” he answered querulously. “But what when he discerns +how you have played upon him? What when he discovers the trick by which you +have thrown him off the scent? What when he returns?” +</p> + +<p> +“Spare me,” I begged, “I am but indifferently skilful at +conjecture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but you shall answer me,” he cried, livid with a passion that +my bantering tone had quickened. +</p> + +<p> +“Can it be that you are indeed curious to know what will befall when he +returns?” I questioned meekly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” he snorted, with an angry twist of the lips. +</p> + +<p> +“It should be easy to gratify the morbid spirit of curiosity that +actuates you. Remain here, and await his return. Thus shall you learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will not I,” he vowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I, nor I, nor I!” chorused his followers. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, why plague me with unprofitable questions? What concern is it of +ours how Messer del’ Orca shall vent his wrath when he is disillusioned. +Your duty now is to rejoin your mistress. Ride hard for Cagli. Seek her at the +sign of ‘The Full Moon,’ and then away for Pesaro. If you are brisk +you will gain the shelter of the Lord Giovanni Sforza’s fortress long +before Messer del’ Orca again picks up the scent, if, indeed, he ever +does so.” +</p> + +<p> +Giacopo laughed derisively till his fat body shook with the scornful mirth of +him. +</p> + +<p> +“By my faith, I’m done with the business,” he cried, and the +other three expressed a very hearty agreement with that attitude. +</p> + +<p> +“How done with it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall make my way back across the hills and so retrace my steps to +Rome. I’ll risk my head no more for any lady or any Fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you should ever chance to risk it for yourself,” said I, with +unmeasured scorn, “you’ll risk it for the greatest fool and the +cowardliest rogue that ever shamed the name of man. And your mistress? Is she +to wait at Cagli until doomsday? If anywhere within the bulk of that +elephant’s body there lurks the heart of a rabbit, you’ll get you +to horse and ride to the help of that poor lady.” +</p> + +<p> +They resented my tone, and showed their resentment plainly. Messer Giacopo went +the length of raising his hand to me. But I am a man of amazing +strength—amazing inasmuch as being slender of shape I do not have the air +of it. Leaping suddenly from the litter, I caught that miserable vassal by the +breast of his doublet, shook him once or twice, then tossed him headlong into a +drift of snow by the roadside. +</p> + +<p> +At that they bared their knives and made shift to attack me. But I flung myself +on to one of the mules of the litter, and showing them the stout Pistoja dagger +that I carried, I presented with it a bold and truculent front, no whit +intimidated by their numbers. Four to one though they were, they thought better +of it. A moment they stood off, consulting among themselves; then Giacopo +mounted, and with some mocking counsel as to how I should dispose of the litter +and the mules, they made off, no doubt, to find their way back to Rome. +Giacopo, as I was afterwards to discover, was Madonna Paola’s +purse-bearer, so that they would not lack for means. +</p> + +<p> +Awhile I stayed there, cursing them for the white-livered cravens that they +were, and thinking of that poor child who had ridden on to Cagli, and who would +await them in vain. There, on the mule, I sat in the noontide sunlight, and +pondered this, so absorbed in her affairs as to have grown forgetful of my own. +At last I resolved to ride on to Cagli alone, and inform her that her men were +fled. +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to lose, for as that rogue Giacopo had said, Ramiro +del’ Orca might discover at any moment how he had been tricked, and +return hot-foot to find me and extort the truth from me by such means as I had +no stomach for enduring. +</p> + +<p> +First, then, it was of moment thoroughly to efface our tracks, leaving no sign +that might guide Meser Ramiro to repair the error into which I had tricked him. +Slowly, says the proverb, one journeys far and safely. Slowly, then, did I +consider! The escort was, no doubt, on its way back to Rome, and if I could but +rid myself of that cumbrous litter, Ser Ramiro would find himself mightily hard +put to it to again pick up the trail. I remembered a ravine a little way +behind, and I rode my mule back to that as fast as it would travel with the +litter and the other mule attached to it. Arrived there, I unharnessed the +beasts on the very edge of that shallow precipice. Then exerting all my +strength, I contrived to roll the litter over. Down that steep incline it went, +over and over, gathering more snow to itself at every revolution, and sinking +at last into the drift at the bottom. There were signs enough to show its +presence, but those signs would hardly be read by any but the sharpest eyes, or +by such as might be looking for it in precisely such a position. I must trust +to luck that it escaped the notice of Messer Ramiro. But even if he did +discover it, I did not think that it would tell him overmuch. +</p> + +<p> +That done I resumed my hat and cloak—which I had retained—mounted +once more, and urging the other mule along, I proceeded thus as fast as might +be for a half-league or so in the direction of Cagli. That distance covered, +again I halted. There was not a soul in sight. I stripped one of the mules of +all its harness, which I buried in the snow, behind a hedge, then I drove the +beast loose into a field. The peasant-owner of that land might conclude upon +the morrow that it had rained asses in the night. +</p> + +<p> +And now I was able to travel at a brisker pace, and in an hour or so I had +passed the point where the road diverged, and I caught a glimpse of the four +grooms, already high up in the hills which they were crossing. Whether they saw +me or not I do not know, but with a last curse at their cowardice I put them +from my mind, and cantered briskly on towards Cagli. It was a short league +farther, and in little more than half an hour, my mule half-dead, I halted at +the door of “The Full Moon.” +</p> + +<p> +Flinging my reins to the ostler, I strode into the inn, swaddled in my cloak, +and called for the hostess. The place was empty, as indeed all Cagli had seemed +when I rode up. She came forward—a woman with a brown, full face, and +large kindly eyes—and I asked her whether a lady had arrived there in +safety that morning. At first she seemed mistrustful, but when I had assured +her that I was in that lady’s service, she frankly owned that Madonna was +safe in her own room. Thither I allowed her to lead me, at once eager and +reluctant. Eager with my own eyes to assure myself of her perfect safety; +reluctant that, since a man may not penetrate to a lady’s chamber hat on +head, by uncovering I must disclose my shameful trade. Yet there was nothing +for it but a bold face, and as I mounted the stairs in the woman’s wake, +I told myself that I was doubly a fool to be tormented by qualms of such a +nature. +</p> + +<p> +Hat in hand I followed the hostess into Madonna’s room. The lady rose +from the window-seat to greet me, her face pale and her gentle eyes wearing an +anxious look. At sight of my head crowned with the crested, horned hood of +folly, a frown of bewilderment drew her brows together, and she looked more +closely to see whether I was indeed the man who had befriended her that morning +in her extremity. In the eyes of the hostess I caught a gleam of recognition. +She knew me for the merry loon who had entertained her guests one night a +fortnight since, when on my way from Pesaro to Rome. But before she could give +expression to this discovery of hers, the lady spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave us awhile, my woman,” she commanded. But I stayed the +hostess as she was withdrawing. +</p> + +<p> +“This lady,” said I, “will need an escort of three or four +stout knaves upon a journey that she is going. She will be setting out as soon +as may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what of my grooms?” cried the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” I informed her, “they have deserted you. That is +the reason of my presence here. You shall hear the story of it presently. +Meanwhile, we must arrange to replace them.” And I turned again to the +hostess. +</p> + +<p> +She was standing in thought, a doubtful expression on her face. But as I looked +at her she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no such escort to be found to-day in Cagli,” she made +answer. “The town is all but empty, and every lusty man is either gone on +the pilgrimage to the Holy House of Loretto, or else is at Pesaro for the Feast +of the Epiphany.” +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain that I protested that a couple of knaves might surely be found. +She answered me that such as were in Cagli were there because they would not be +elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +The lady’s face grew clouded as she listened, for from my insistence she +shrewdly inferred that it imported to be gone. +</p> + +<p> +“There is your ostler,” quoth I at last. “He will do for +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is the only man I have. My husband and my sons are gone to +Pesaro.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet spare us this one, and you shall be well paid his services.” +</p> + +<p> +But no bribe could tempt her to give way, and no doubt she was well-advised, +for she contended that there was work to be done such as was beyond her years +and strength, and that if she sent her ostler off, as well might she close her +inn—a thing that was impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, was an obstacle with which I had not reckoned. It was impossible to +send the lady off alone, to travel a distance of some ten leagues, and the most +of it by night—for if she would make sure of escaping, she must journey +now without pause until she came to Pesaro. +</p> + +<p> +And then, in a flash, it occurred to me that here lay the means, ready to my +hand, by avail of which I might boldly re-enter Pesaro despite my banishment, +and discharge my errand to Lucrezia Borgia. For, surely, considering the +mission on which ostensibly I should be returning—as the saviour and +protector of his kinswoman—Giovanni Sforza could not enforce that ban +against me. Next I bethought me of the other aspect that the business wore. In +fooling Ramiro I had thwarted the Borgia ends; in rescuing Madonna Paola I had +perhaps set at naught the Cardinal of Valencia’s aims. If so, what then? +It would seem that because the lady’s eyes were mild and sweet, and +because her beauty had so deeply wrought upon me, I had indeed fooled away my +chance of salvation from the life and trade that were grown hateful to me. For +back to Rome and Cesare Borgia I should dare go no more. Clearly I had burned +my boats, and I had done it almost unthinkingly, acting upon the good impulse +to befriend this lady, and never reckoning the cost down to its total. For all +that the thing I had done, and what I might yet do, should offer me the means I +needed to enter Pesaro without danger to my neck, I did not see that I was to +derive great profit in the end—unless my profit lay in knowing that I had +advanced the ruin of Giovanni Sforza by delivering my letter to Lucrezia. That +at any rate was enough incentive clearly to define for me the line that I +should take through this tangle into which the ever-jesting Fates had thrust +me. +</p> + +<p> +I was still at my thoughts, still pondering this most perplexing situation, the +hostess standing silent by the door, when suddenly Madonna Paola spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said she, in faltering accents, “I—I have not +the right to ask you, and I stand already so deeply in your debt. Not a doubt +of it, but it will have inconvenienced you to have journeyed thus far to inform +me of the flight of my grooms. Yet if you could—” She paused, timid +of proceeding, and her glance fell. +</p> + +<p> +The hostess was all ears, struck by the respectful manner in which this very +evidently noble lady addressed a Fool. I opened the door for her. +</p> + +<p> +“You may leave us now,” said I. “I will come to you +presently.” +</p> + +<p> +When she was gone I turned once more to the lady, my course resolved upon. My +hate had conquered my last doubt. What first imported was that I should get to +Pesaro and to Madonna Lucrezia. +</p> + +<p> +“You were about to ask me,” said I, “that I should accompany +you to Pesaro.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hesitated, sir,” she murmured. I bowed respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“There was not the need, Madonna,” I assured her. “I am at +your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Messer Boccadoro, I have no claim upon you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” said I, “the claim that every distressed lady has +upon a man of heart. Let us say no more. It were best not to delay in setting +out, although I can scarcely think that there is any imminent danger from +Ramiro del’ Orca now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“I told her, whereupon—” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they come up with you?” she asked. “What passed between +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Succinctly I related what had chanced, and how I had sent Ramiro on a +fool’s errand, adding the particulars of the flight of her grooms, and of +how I had rid myself of the litter and the second mule. She heard me, her eyes +sparkling, and at times she clapped her hands with a glee that was almost +childish, vowing that this was splendid, that was brave. I allayed what little +fears remained her by pointing out how effectively we had effaced our tracks, +and how vainly now Messer del’ Orca might beat the country in quest of a +lady in a litter, escorted by four grooms. +</p> + +<p> +And now she beset me with fresh thanks and fresh expressions of wonder at my +generous readiness to befriend her—a wonder all devoid of suspicion +touching the single-mindedness of my purpose. But I reminded her that we had +little leisure to stand talking, and left her to make her preparations for the +journey, whilst I went below to see that my mule and her horse were saddled. I +made bold to pay the reckoning, and when presently she spoke of it, with +flaming cheeks, and would have pledged me a jewel, I bade her look upon it as a +loan which anon she might repay me when I had brought her safely to her +kinsman’s Court at Pesaro. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, at last, we left Cagli, and took the road north, riding side by side and +talking pleasantly the while, ever concerning the matter of her flight and of +her hopes of shelter at Pesaro, which, being nearest to her heart, found +readiest expression. I went wrapped in my cloak once more, my head-dress hidden +’neath my broad-brimmed hat, so that the few wayfarers we chanced on need +not marvel to see a lady in such friendly intercourse with a Fool. And so dull +was I that day as not to marvel, myself, at such a state of things. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was declining, a red ball of fire, towards the mountains on our left, +casting a blood-red glow upon the snow that everywhere encompassed us, as we +cantered briskly on towards Fossombrone. +</p> + +<p> +In that hour I fell to pondering, and I even caught myself hoping that Messer +Ramiro del’ Orca might not chance upon the discovery of how egregiously I +had fooled him. He was dull-witted and slow at inference, and upon that I built +the hope that he might fail to associate me with Madonna Paola’s elusion +of his pursuit. Thus the chance might yet be mine of returning to Rome and the +honourable employment Cesare Borgia had promised me. If only that were so to +fall out, I might yet contrive to mend the wreckage of my life. I was returned, +it seems, to the ways of early youth, when we build our hopes of future +greatness upon untenable foundations! +</p> + +<p> +Great hopes and great ambitions rose within my breast that January evening, +fired by the gentle child that rode beside me. Fate had sent me to her aid that +day, and I seemed to have acquired, by virtue of that circumstance, a certain +right in her. Had Fate no other favours for me in her lap! I bethought me of +the very House of Sforza, to which I had been so shamefully attached, and of +its humble source in that peasant, Giacomuzzo Attendolo, surnamed Sforza for +his abnormal strength of body, who rose to great and princely heights. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly I had the advantage of such an one, and were the chance but given +me— +</p> + +<p> +I went no further. Down in my heart I laughed to scorn my own wild musings. +Cesare Borgia would come to know—he must, whether Ramiro told him, or +whether he inferred it for himself from the account Ramiro must give him of our +meeting—how I had thwarted him in one thing, whilst I had served him in +another. Fate was against me. I had fallen too low to ever rise again, and no +dreams indulged in a sunset hour, and inspired, perhaps, by a child who was +beautiful as one of the saints of God, would ever come to be realised by poor +Boccadoro. +</p> + +<p> +Night was falling as we clattered through the slippery streets of Fossombrone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V.<br /> +MADONNA’S INGRATITUDE</h2> + +<p> +We stayed in Fossombrone little more than a half-hour, and having made a hasty +supper we resumed our way, giving out that we wished to reach Fano ere we +slept. And so by the first hour of night Fossombrone was a league or so behind +us, and we were advancing briskly towards the sea. Overhead a moon rode at the +full in a clear sky, and its light was reflected by the snow, so that we were +not discomforted by any darkness. We fell, presently, into a gentler pace, for, +after all, there could be no advantage in reaching Pesaro before morning, and +as we rode we talked, and I made bold to ask her the cause of her flight from +Rome. +</p> + +<p> +She told me then that she was Madonna Paola Sforza di Santafior, and that Pope +Alexander, in his nepotism and his desire to make rich and powerful alliances +for his family, had settled upon her as the wife for his nephew, Ignacio +Borgia. He had been emboldened to this step by the fact that her only protector +was her brother, Filippo di Santafior, whom they had sought to coerce. It was +her brother, who, seeing himself in a dangerous and unenviable position, had +secretly suggested flight to her, urging her to repair to her kinsman Giovanni +Sforza at Pesaro. Her flight, however, must have been speedily discovered and +the Borgias, who saw in that act a defiance of their supreme authority, had +ordered her pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +But for me, she concluded, that pursuits must have resulted in her capture, and +once they had her back in Rome, willing or unwilling, they would have driven +her into the alliance by means of which they sought to bring her fortune into +their own house. This drew her into fresh protestations of the undying +gratitude she entertained towards me, protestations which I would have stemmed, +but that she persisted in them. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a good and noble thing that you have done,” said she, +“and I think that Heaven must have directed you to my aid, for it is +scarce likely that in all Italy I should have found another man who would have +done so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what, after all, is this much that I have done?” I cried. +“It is no less than my manhood bade me do; no less than any other would +have done seeing you so beset.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, that is more than I can ever think,” she answered. “Who +for the sake of an unknown would have suffered such inconveniences as have you? +Who would have returned as you have returned to advise me of the defection of +my grooms? Who, when other escort failed, would have gone the length of +journeying all this way to render a service that is beyond repayment? And, +above all, who for the sake of an unknown maid would have submitted to this +travesty of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Travesty?” quoth I, so struck by that as to interrupt her at last. +“What travesty, Madonna?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this garb of motley that you donned the better to fool my pursuers +and that you still wear in my poor service.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned in the saddle to stare at her, and in the moonlight I clearly saw her +eyes meet mine. So! that was the reason of her kindness and of the easy +familiarity of her speech with me! She deemed me some knight-errant who +caracoled through Italy in quest of imperilled maidens needing aid. Of a +certainty she had gathered her knowledge of the world from the works of Messer +Bojardo, or perhaps from the “Amadis of Gaul” of Messer Bernardo +Tasso. And, no doubt, she thought that suits of motley grew on bushes by the +roadside, whence those who had a fancy for disguise might cull them. +</p> + +<p> +Well, well, it were better she should know the truth at once, and choose such a +demeanour as she considered fitting towards a Fool. I had no stomach for the +courtesies that were meant for such a man as I was not. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, you are in error,” I informed her, speaking slowly. +“This garb is no travesty. It is my usual raiment.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause and I saw the slackening of her reins. No doubt, had we been +afoot she would have halted, the better to confront me. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” she asked, and a new note, imperious and chill, was sounding +already in her voice. “You would not have me understand that you are by +trade a Fool? +</p> + +<p> +“Allowing that I am not a fool by birth, under what other circumstances, +think you, I should be likely to wear the garments of a Fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“But this morning,” she protested, after a brief pause, “when +first I met you, you were not so arrayed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was arrayed even as I am now, in a cloak and hat and boots that hid my +motley from such undiscerning eyes as were yours and your +grooms’—all taken up with your own fears as you then were.” +</p> + +<p> +There was in the tail of that a sting, as I meant there should be, for the +sudden haughtiness of her tone was cutting into me. Was I less worthy of thanks +because I was a Fool? Had I on that account done less to serve and save her? Or +was it that the action which, in a spurred and armoured knight, had been +accounted noble was deemed unworthy of thanks in a crested, motleyed jester? It +seemed, indeed, that some such reasoning she followed, for after that we spoke +no more until we were approaching Fano. +</p> + +<p> +A many times before had I felt the shame of my ignoble trade, but never so +acutely as at that moment. It had seared my soul when Giovanni Sforza had told +my story to his Court, ere he had driven me from Pesaro with threats of +hanging, and it had burned even deeper when later, Madonna Lucrezia, upon +entrusting me with her letter to her brother, had upbraided me with the +supineness that so long had held me in that vile bondage. But deepest of all +went now the burning iron of that disgrace. For my companion’s silence +seemed to argue that had she known my quality she would have scorned the aid of +which she had availed herself to such good purpose. If any doubt of this had +mercifully remained me, her next words would have served to have resolved it. +It was when the lights of Fano gleamed ahead; we were coming to a cross-roads, +and I urged the turning to the left. +</p> + +<p> +“But Fano is in front,” she remonstrated coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“This way we can avoid the town and gain the Pesaro road beyond +it,” answered I, my tone as cool as hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet may it not be that at Fano I might find an escort?” +</p> + +<p> +I could have cried out at her cruelty, for in her words I could but read my +dismissal from her service. There had been no more talk of an escort other than +that which I afforded, and with which at first she had been well content. +</p> + +<p> +I sat my mule in silence for a moment. She had been very justly served had I +been the vassal that she deemed me, and had I borne myself in that character +without consideration of her sex, her station or her years. She had been very +justly served had I wheeled about and left her there to make her way to Fano, +and thence to Pesaro, as best she might. She was without money, as I knew, and +she would have found in Fano such a reception as would have brought the bitter +tears of late repentance to her pretty eyes. +</p> + +<p> +But I was soft-hearted, and, so, I reasoned with her; yet in a manner that was +to leave her no doubt of the true nature of her situation, and the need to use +me with a little courtesy for the sake of what I might yet do, if she lacked +the grace to treat me with gratitude for the sake of that which I had done +already. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” said I. “It were wiser to choose the by-road and +forego the escort, since we have dispensed with it so far. There are many +reasons why a lady should not seek to enter Fano at this hour of night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know of none,” she interrupted me. +</p> + +<p> +“That may well be. Nevertheless they exist.” +</p> + +<p> +“This night-riding in so lonely a fashion is little to my taste,” +she told me sullenly. “I am for Fano.” +</p> + +<p> +She had the mercy to spare me the actual words, yet her tone told me as plainly +as if she had uttered them that I could go with her or not, as I should choose. +In silence, very sore at heart, I turned my mule’s head once more towards +the lights of the town. +</p> + +<p> +“Since you are resolved, so be it,” was all my answer; and we +proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +No word did we exchange until we had entered the main street, when she curtly +asked me which was the best inn. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The Golden Fish,’” said I, as curtly, and to +“The Golden Fish” we went. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived there, Madonna Paola took affairs into her own hands. She dismounted, +leaving the reins with a groom, and entering the common-room she proclaimed her +needs to those that occupied it by loudly calling upon the landlord to find her +an escort of three or four knaves to accompany her at once to Pesaro, where +they should be well rewarded by the Lord Giovanni, her cousin. +</p> + +<p> +I had followed her in, and I ground my teeth at such an egregious piece of +folly. Her hood was thrown back, displaying the lenza of fine linen on her +sable hair, and over this a net of purest gold all set with jewels. Her +camorra, too, was open, and in her girdle there were gems for all to see. There +were but a half-dozen men in the room. Two of these had a venerable +air—they may have been traders journeying to Milan—whilst a third, +who sat apart, was a slender, effeminate-looking youth. The remaining three +were fellows of rough aspect, and when one of them—a black-browed +ruffian—raised his eyes and fastened them upon the riches that Madonna +Paola with such indifference displayed, I knew what was to follow. +</p> + +<p> +He rose upon the instant, and stepping forward, he made her a low bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Illustrious lady,” said he, “if these two friends of mine +and I find favour with you, here is an escort ready found. We are stout +fellows, and very faithful.” +</p> + +<p> +Faithful to their cut-throat trade, I made no doubt he meant. +</p> + +<p> +His fellows now rose also, and she looked them over, giving herself the airs of +having spent her virgin life in judging men by their appearance. It was in vain +I tugged her cloak, in vain I murmured the word “wait” under cover +of my hand. She there and then engaged them, and bade them make ready to set +out at once. One more attempt I made to induce her to alter her resolve. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” said I, “it is an unwise thing to go a-journeying +by night with three unknown men, and of such villainous appearance. To me they +seem no better than bandits.” +</p> + +<p> +We were standing apart from the others, and she was sipping a cup of spiced +wine that the host had mulled for her. She looked at me with a tolerant smile. +</p> + +<p> +“They are poor men,” said she. “Would you have them robed in +velvet?” +</p> + +<p> +“My quarrel is with their looks, Madonna, not their garments,” I +answered patiently. She laughed lightly, carelessly; even, I thought, a trifle +scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very fanciful,” said she, then added—“but if +so be that you are afraid to trust yourself in their company, why then, sir, I +need bring you no farther out of the road that you were following when first we +met.” +</p> + +<p> +Did the child think that some jealousy actuated me, and prompted me to inspire +her with mistrust of my supplanters? She angered me. Yet now, more than ever +was I resolved to journey with her. Leave her at the mercy of those ruffians, +whom in her ignorance she was mad enough to trust, I could not—not even +had she whipped me. She was so young, so frail and slight, that none but a +craven could have found it in his heart to have deserted her just then. +</p> + +<p> +“If it please you Madonna,” I answered smoothly, “I will make +bold to travel on with you.” +</p> + +<p> +It may be that my even accents stung her; perhaps she read in them some measure +of reproof of the ingratitude that lay in her altered bearing towards me. Her +eyes met mine across the table, and seemed to harden as she looked. Her answer +came in a vastly altered tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if you are bent that way, I shall be glad to have you avail +yourself of my escort, Boccadoro.” +</p> + +<p> +I had suffered the scorn now of her speech, now of her silence, for some hours, +but never was I so near to turning on her as at that moment; never so near to +consigning her to the fate to which her headstrong folly was compelling her. +That she should take that tone with me! +</p> + +<p> +The violence of the sudden choler I suppressed turned me pale under her steady +glance. So that, seeing it, her own cheeks flamed crimson, and her eyes fell, +as if in token that she realised the meanness of her bearing. To some natures +there can be nothing more odious than such a realisation, and of those, I +think, was she; for she stamped her foot in a sudden pet, and curtly asked the +host why there was such delay with the horses. +</p> + +<p> +“They are at the door, Madonna,” he protested, bowing as he spoke. +“And your escort is already waiting in the saddle.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and strode abruptly towards the threshold. Over her shoulder she +called to me: +</p> + +<p> +“If you come with us, Boccadoro, you had best be brisk.” +</p> + +<p> +“I follow, Madonna,” said I, with a grim relish, “so soon as +I have paid the reckoning.” +</p> + +<p> +She halted and half turned, and I thought I saw a slight droop at the corners +of her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“You are keeping count of what I owe you?” she muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Madonna,” I answered, more grimly still, “I am keeping +count.” And I thought that my wits were vastly at fault if that account +were not to be greatly swelled ere Pesaro was reached. Haply, indeed, my own +life might go to swell it. I almost took a relish in that thought. Perhaps +then, when I was stiff and cold—done to death in her service—this +handsome, ungrateful child would come to see how much discomfort I had suffered +for her sake. +</p> + +<p> +My thoughts still ran in that channel as we rode out of Pesaro, for I misliked +the way in which those knaves disposed themselves about us. In front went +Madonna Paola; and immediately behind her, so that their horses’ heads +were on a level with her saddle-bow, one on each side, went two of those +ruffians. The third, whom I had heard them call Stefano, and who was the one +who had made her the offer of their services, ambled at my side, a few paces in +the rear, and sought to draw me into conversation, haply by way of throwing me +off my guard. +</p> + +<p> +Mistrust is a fine thing at times. “Forewarned is forearmed,” says +the proverb, and of all forewarnings there is none we are more likely to heed +than our own mistrust; for whereas we may leave unheeded the warnings of a +friend, we seldom leave unheeded the warnings of our spirit. +</p> + +<p> +And so, while my amiable and garrulous Ser Stefano engaged me in pleasant +conversation—addressing me ever as Messer the Fool, since he knew me not +by name—I wrapped my cloak about me, and under cover of it kept my +fingers on the hilt of my stout Pistoja dagger, ready to draw and use it at the +first sign of mischief. For that sign I was all eyes, and had I been Argus +himself I could have kept no better watch. Meanwhile I plied my tongue and +maintained as merry a conversation with Ser Stefano as you could wish to hear, +for he seemed a ready-witted knave of a most humorous turn of fancy—God +rest his rascally soul! And so it came to pass that I did by him the very thing +he sought to do by me; I lulled him into a careless confidence. +</p> + +<p> +At last the sign I had been waiting for was given. I saw it as plainly as if it +had been meant for me; I believe I saw it before the man for whom it was +intended, and but for my fears concerning Madonna Paola, I could have laughed +outright at their clumsy assurance. The man who rode on Madonna’s right +turned in his saddle and put up his hand as if to beckon Stefano. I was +regaling him with one of the choicest of Messer Sacchetti’s paradoxes, +gurgling, myself, at the humour of the thing I told. I paid no heed to the +sign. I continued to expound my quip, as though we had the night before us in +which to make its elusive humour clear. But out of the tail of my eye I watched +my good friend Stefano, and I saw his right hand steal round to the region of +his back where I knew his dagger to be slung. Yet was I patient. There should +be no blundering through an excessive precipitancy. I talked on until I saw +that my suspicions were amply realised. I caught the cold gleam of steel in the +hand that he brought back as stealthily as he had carried it to his poniard. +Sant’ Iddio! What a coward he was for all his bulk, to go so slyly about +the business of stabbing a poor, helpless, defenceless Fool. +</p> + +<p> +“But Sacchetti makes his point clear,” I babbled on, most blandly; +“almost as clear, as comprehensive and as penetrating as should be to you +the point of this.” And with a swift movement I swung half-round in my +saddle, and sank my dagger to the hilt in his side even as he was in the act of +raising his. +</p> + +<p> +He made no sound beyond the faintest gurgle—the first vowel of a suddenly +choked word of wonder and surprise. He rocked a second in his saddle, then +crashed over, and lay with arms flung wide, like a huge black crucifix, upon +the white ground. At the same moment a piercing scream broke from Madonna +Paola. +</p> + +<p> +I tremble still to think what might have been her fate had not those ruffians +who had laid hands on her fallen into the sorry error of holding their single +adversary too lightly. They heard the thud of the gallant Stefano’s fall, +and they never doubted that mine was the body that had gone down. They heard +the rapid hoof-beats of my approach, yet, they never turned their heads to +ascertain whether they might not be mistaken in their firm conviction that it +was Messer Stefano who was joining them. +</p> + +<p> +I kissed my blade for luck, and drove it straight and full into the back of the +fellow on Madonna Paola’s right. He cried out, essayed to turn in his +saddle that he might deal with this unlooked-for assailant, then, overcome, he +lurched forward on to the withers of his horse and thence rolled over, and was +dragged away at the gallop, his foot caught in a stirrup, by the suddenly +startled brute he rode. +</p> + +<p> +So far things had gone with an amazing and delightful ease. If only the last of +them had had the amiability to be intimidated by my prowess and to have taken +to his heels, I might have issued from that contest with the unscathed glory of +a very Mars. But from his throat there came, in answer to his comrade’s +cry, a roar of rage. He fell back from Madonna, and wheeled his horse to come +at me, drawing his sword as he advanced. +</p> + +<p> +“Ride on, Madonna,” I shouted. “I will rejoin you +presently.” +</p> + +<p> +The fellow laughed, a mighty ugly and discomposing laugh, which may or may not +have shaken her faith in my promise to rejoin her. It certainly went near to +shaking mine. However, she displayed a presence of mind full worthy of the +haughtiness and ingratitude of which she had showed herself capable. She urged +her mule forward, and, so, left him a clear road to attack me. I made a mistake +then that went mighty near to costing me my life. I paused to twist my cloak +about my left arm intending to use it as a buckler. Had I but risked the arm +itself, all unprotected, in that task, it may well be that it had served me +better. As it was, my preparations were far from complete when already he was +upon me, with the result that the waving slack of my cloak was in my way to +hamper and retard the movements of my arm. +</p> + +<p> +His sword leapt at me, a murderous blue-white flash of moonlit steel. I put up +my half-swaddled arm to divert the thrust, holding my dagger ready in my right, +and gripping my mule with all the strength of my two knees. I caught the blade, +it is true, and turned aside the stroke intended for my heart. But the slack of +the cloak clung to the neck of my mule, so that I could not carry my arm far +enough to send his point clear of my body. It took me in the shoulder, stinging +me, first icy cold then burning hot, as it went tearing its way through. For +just a second was I daunted, more at knowing myself touched than by the actual +pain. Then I flung my whole body forward to reach him at the close quarters to +which he had come, and I buried my dagger in his breast, high up at the base of +his dirty throat. +</p> + +<p> +The force of the blow carried me forward, even as it bore him backward; and so, +with his sword-blade in my shoulder, and my dagger where I had planted it, we +hurtled over together and lay a second amidst what seemed a forest of equine +legs. Then something smote me across the head, and I was knocked senseless. +</p> + +<p> +Conceive me, if you can, a sorrier, or more useless thing. A senseless Fool! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI.<br /> +FOOL’S LUCK</h2> + +<p> +My return to consciousness seemed to afford me such sensations as a diver may +experience as he rises up and up through the depth of water he has +plumbed—or as a disembodied soul may know in its gentle ascent towards +Heaven. Indeed the latter parallel may be more apt. For through the mist that +suffused my senses there penetrated from overhead a voice that seemed to invoke +every saint in the calendar on the behalf of some poor mortal. A very litany of +intercession was it, not quite, it would appear, devoid of self-seeking. +</p> + +<p> +“Sainted Virgin, restore him! Good St. Paul, who wert done to death with +a sword, let him not perish, else am I lost indeed!” came the voice. +</p> + +<p> +I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes, whereat the voice cried out gladly +that its intercessions had been heard, and I knew that it was on my behalf that +the saints of Heaven had been disturbed in their beatific peace. My head was +pillowed in a woman’s lap, and it took me a moment or two to realise that +that lap was Madonna Paula’s, as was hers the voice that had reached my +awakening senses, the voice that now welcomed me back to life in terms that +were very different from the last that I could remember her having used towards +me. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God, Messer Boccadoro!” she exclaimed, as she bent over me. +</p> + +<p> +Her face was black with shadow, but in her voice I caught a hint of tears, and +I wondered whether they were shed on my behalf or on her own. +</p> + +<p> +“I do!” I answered fervently. “Have you any notion of what +hour it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” she sighed. “You have been so long unconscious that I +was losing hope of ever hearing your voice again.” +</p> + +<p> +I became aware of a dull ache on the right side of my head. I put up my hand, +and withdrew it moist. She saw the action. +</p> + +<p> +“One of the horses must have struck you with its hoof after you +fell,” she explained. “But I was more concerned for your other +wound. I withdrew the sword with my own hands.” +</p> + +<p> +That other wound she spoke of was now making itself felt as well. It was a +gnawing, stinging pain in the region of my left shoulder, which seemed to turn +me numb to the waist on that side of my body, and render powerless my arm. I +questioned her touching my three adversaries, and she silently pointed to three +black masses that lay some little distance from us in the snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Not all dead?” I cried. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” she answered, with a sob. “I have not dared +go near them. They frighten me. Mother of Heaven, what a night of horror it has +been! Oh, that I had taken your advice, Messer Boccacloro!” she exclaimed +in a passion of self-reproach. +</p> + +<p> +I laughed, seeking to soften her distress. +</p> + +<p> +“To me it seems, that whether you would or not, you have been compelled +to take it, after all. Those fellows lie there harmless enough, and I am +still—as I urged that I should be—your only escort.” +</p> + +<p> +“A nobler protector never woman had,” she assured me, and I felt a +hot pearl of moisture fail upon my brow. +</p> + +<p> +“You were wise, at least, to journey with a Fool,” I answered her. +“For fools are proverbially lucky folk, and to-night has proven me of all +fools the luckiest. But, Madonna,” I suggested, in a different tone, +“should we not be better advised to attempt to resume, this interesting +journey of ours? We do not seem to lack horses?” +</p> + +<p> +A couple of nags were standing by the road-side, together with our mules, and I +was afterwards to learn that she, herself, it was had tethered them. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be yet some three leagues to Pesaro,” I added, “and +if we journey slowly, as I fear me that we must, we should arrive there soon +after daybreak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that you can stand?” she asked, a hopeful ring in her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I might essay it,” answered I, and I would have done so, there and +then, but that she detained me. +</p> + +<p> +“First let me see to this hurt in your head,” said she. “I +have been bathing it with snow while you were unconscious.” +</p> + +<p> +She gathered a fresh handful as she spoke, and, very tenderly she wiped away +the blood. Then from her own head she took the fine linen lanza that she wore, +and made a bandage—a bandage sweet with the faint fragrance of +marsh-mallow—and bound it about my battered skull. When that was done she +turned her attention to my shoulder. This was a more difficult matter, and all +that we could do was to attempt to stanch the blood, which already had drenched +my doublet on that side. To this end she passed a long scarf under my arm, and +wound it several times about my shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +At last her gentle ministrations ended, I sought to rise. A dizziness assailed +me scarce was I on my feet, and it is odds I had fallen back, but that she +caught and steadied me. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother in Heaven! You are too weak to ride,” she exclaimed. +“You must not attempt it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but I will,” I answered, with more stoutness of tone than I +felt of body, and notwithstanding that my knees were loosening under my weight. +“It is a faintness that will pass.” +</p> + +<p> +If ever man willed himself to conquer weakness, that did I then, and with some +measure of success—or else it was that my faintness passed of itself. I +drew away from her support, and straightening myself, I crossed to where the +animals were tethered, staggering at first, but presently with a surer foot. +She followed me, watching my steps with as much apprehension as a mother may +feel when her first-born makes his earliest attempts at walking, and as ready +to spring to my aid did I show signs of stumbling. But I kept up, and presently +my senses seemed to clear, and I stepped out more surely. +</p> + +<p> +Awhile we stood discussing which of the animals we should take. It was my +suggestion that we should ride the horses but she wisely contended that the +mules would prove the more convenient if the slower. I agreed with her, and +then, ere we set out, I went to see to my late opponents. One of them—Ser +Stefano—was cold and stiff; the other two still lived, and from the +nature of their wounds seemed likely to survive, if only they were not frozen +to death before some good Samaritan came upon them. +</p> + +<p> +I knelt a moment to offer up a prayer for the repose of the soul of him that +was dead, and I bound up the wounds of the living as best I could, to save them +greater loss of blood. Indeed, had it lain in my power, I would have done more +for them. But in what case was I to render further aid? After all, they had +brought their fate upon themselves, and I doubt not they were paying a score +that they had heaped up heavily in the past. +</p> + +<p> +I went back to the mules, and, despite my remonstrances, Madonna Paola insisted +upon aiding me to mount, urging me to have a care of my wound, and to make no +violent movement that should set it bleeding again. Then she mounted too, +nimble as any boy that ever robbed an orchard, and we set out once more. And +now it was a very contrite and humbled lady that rode with me, and one that was +at no pains to dissemble her contrition, but, rather, could speak of nothing +else. +</p> + +<p> +It moved me strangely to have her suing pardon from me, as though I had been +her equal instead of the sometime jester of the Court of Pesaro, dismissed for +an excessive pertness towards one with whom his master curried favour. +</p> + +<p> +And presently, as was perhaps but natural after all that she had witnessed, she +fell to questioning me as to how it came to pass that one of such wit, resource +and courage should follow the mean calling to which I had owned. In answer I +told her without reservation the full story of my shame. It was a thing that I +had ever most zealously kept hidden, as already I have shown. +</p> + +<p> +To be a Fool was evil enough in all truth; but to let men know that under my +motley was buried the identity of a man patrician-born was something infinitely +worse. For, however vile the trade of a Fool may be, it is not half so vile for +a low-born clod who is too indolent or too sickly to do honest work as for one +who has accepted it out of a half-cowardice and persevered in it through very +sloth. +</p> + +<p> +Yet on that night and after all that had chanced, no matter how my cheeks might +burn in the gloom as I rode beside her, I was glad for once to tell that +ignominious story, glad that she should know what weight of circumstance had +driven me to wear my hideous livery. +</p> + +<p> +But since my story dealt oddly with that Lord of Pesaro, the kinsman whose +shelter she was now upon her way to seek, I must first assure myself that the +candour to which I was disposed would not offend. +</p> + +<p> +“Does it happen, Madonna,” I inquired, “that you are well +acquainted with the Lord of Pesaro?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay; I have never seen him,” answered she. “When he was at +Rome, a year ago in the service of the Pope, I was at my studies in the +convent. His father was my father’s cousin, so that my kinship is none so +near. Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because my story deals with him, Madonna, and it is no pretty tale. Not +such a narrative as I should choose wherewith to entertain you. Still, since +you have asked for it, you shall hear it. +</p> + +<p> +“It was in the year that Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro, celebrated his +nuptials with the Lady Lucrezia Borgia—three years ago, +therefore—that one morning there rode into the courtyard of his castle of +Pesazo a tall and lean young man on a tall and lean old horse. He was garbed +and harnessed after a fashion that proclaimed him half-knight, half-peasant, +and caused the castle lacqueys to eye him with amusement and greet him with +derision. Lacqueys are great arbiters of fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“In a loud, imperious voice this cockerel called for Giovanni, Lord of +Pesaro, whereupon, resenting the insolence of his manner, the men-at-arms would +have driven him out without more ado. But it chanced that from one of the +windows of his stronghold the tyrant espied his odd visitor. He was in a mood +that craved amusement, and marvelling what madman might be this, he made his +way below and bade them stand back and let me speak—for I, Madonna, was +that lean young man. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you,’ quoth I, ‘the Lord of Pesaro?’ +</p> + +<p> +“He answered me courteously that he was, whereupon I did my errand to +him. I flung my gauntlet of buffalo-hide at his feet in gage of battle. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Your father,’ said I, ‘Costanzo of Pesaro, was a foul +brigand, who robbed my father of his castle and lands of Biancomonte, leaving +him to a needy and poverty-stricken old age. I am here to avenge upon your +father’s son my father’s wrongs; I am here to redeem my castle and +my lands. If so be that you are a true knight, you will take up the challenge +that I fling you, and you will do battle with me, on horse or foot, and with +whatsoever arms you shall decree, God defending him that has justice on his +side.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Knowing the world as I know it now, Madonna,” I interpolated, +“I realise the folly of that act of mine. But in those days my views +belonged to a long departed age of chivalry, of which I had learnt from such +books as came my way at Biancomonte, and which I believed was the life of +to-day in the world of men. It was a thing which some tyrants would have had me +broken on the wheel. But Giovanni Sforza never so much as manifested anger. +There was a complacent smile on his white face and his fingers toyed carelessly +with his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“I waited patiently, very haughty of mien and very fierce at heart, and +when the amusement began to fade from his eyes, I begged that he would deliver +me his answer. +</p> + +<p> +“‘My answer,’ quoth he, ‘is that you get you back to +the place from whence you came, and render thanks to God on your knees every +morning of the life I am sparing you that Giovanni Sforza is more entertained +than affronted by your frenzy.’ +</p> + +<p> +“At his words I went crimson from chin to brow. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Do you disdain me?’ I questioned, choking with rage. He +turned, with a shrug and a laugh, and bade one of his men to give this cavalier +his glove, and conduct him from the castle. Several that had stood at hand made +shift to obey him, whereat I fell into such a blind, unreasoning fury that +incontinently I drew my sword, and laid about me. They were many, I was but +one; and they were not long in overpowering me and dragging me from my horse. +</p> + +<p> +“They bound me fast, and Giovanni bade them let me have a priest, then +get me hanged without delay. Had he done that, the world being as it is, +perhaps none could blame him. But he elected to spare my life, yet on such +terms as I could never have accepted had it not been for the consideration of +my poor widowed mother, whom I had left in the hills of Biancomonte whilst I +went forth to seek my fortune—such was the tale I had told her. I was her +sole support, her only hope in life; and my death must have been her own, if +not from grief, why, then from very want. The thought of that poor old woman +crushed my spirit as I sat in durance waiting for my end, and when the priest +came, whom they had sent to shrive me, he found me weeping, which he took to +argue a contrite heart. He bore the tale of it to Giovanni, and the Lord of +Pesaro came to visit me in consequence, and found me sorely changed from my +furious mood of some hours earlier. +</p> + +<p> +“I was a very coward, I own; but it was for my mother’s sake. If I +feared death, it was because I bethought me of what it must mean to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“At sight of Giovanni I cast myself at his feet, and with tears in my +eyes and in heartrending tones, bespeaking a humility as great as had been my +erstwhile arrogance, I begged my life of him. I told him the truth—that +for myself I was not afraid to die, but that I had a mother in the hills who +was dependent on me, and who must starve if I were thus cut off. +</p> + +<p> +“He watched me with his moody eyes, a saturnine smile about his lips. +Then of a sudden he shook with a silent mirth, whose evil, malicious depth I +was far indeed from suspecting. He asked me would I take solemn oath that if he +spared my life I would never again raise my hand against him. That oath I took +with a greediness born of my fear of the death that was impending. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You have been wise,’ said he,’ and you shall have +your life on one condition—that you devote it to my service.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Even that will I do,’ I answered readily. He turned to an +attendant, and ordered him to go fetch a suit of motley. No word passed between +us until that man returned with those garish garments. Then Giovanni smiled on +me in his mocking, infernal way. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not that,’ I cried, guessing his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Aye, that,’ he answered me; ‘that or the +hangman’s noose. A man who could devise so monstrous a jest as was your +challenge to the Tyrant of Pesaro should be a merry fellow if he would. I need +such a one. There are two Fools at my Court, but they are mere tumblers, +deformed vermin that excite as much disgust as mirth. I need a sprightlier man, +a man of some learning and more drollery; such a man, in short, as you would +seem to be.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I recoiled in horror and disgust. Was this his clemency—this +sparing of my life that he might submit it to an eternal shame? For a moment my +mother was forgotten. I thought only of myself, and I grew resolved to hang. +</p> + +<p> +“‘When you spoke of service,’ said I ‘I thought of +service of an honourable sort.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘The service that I offer you is honourable,’ he said, with +cold amusement. ‘Indeed, remembering that your life was forfeit, you +should account yourself most fortunate. You shall be well housed and well fed, +you shall wear silk and lie in fine linen, on condition that you are merry. If +you prove dull our castellan shall have you whipped—for such a one as you +could not be dull save out of sullenness, of which we shall seek to cure you if +you show signs of it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I will not do it,’ I cried, ‘it were too base.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘My friend,’ he answered me, ‘the choice is yours. You +shall have an hour in which to resolve what you will do. When they open this +door for you at sunset, come forth clad as you are, and you shall hang. If you +prefer to live, then don me that robe and cap of motley, and, on condition that +you are merry, life is yours.’” +</p> + +<p> +I paused a moment. Our horses were moving slowly, for the tale engrossed us +both, me in the telling, her in the hearing. Presently— +</p> + +<p> +“I need not harass you with the reflections that were mine during that +hour, Madonna. Rather let me ask you: how should a man so placed make choice to +be full worthy of the office proffered him?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment’s silence while she pondered. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” she answered me, at last, “a fool I take it would have +chosen death: the wise man life, since it must hold the hope of better +days.” +</p> + +<p> +“And since it asked a man of wit to play the fool to such a tune as the +Lord Giovanni piped, that wise young man chose life and folly. But was that +choice indeed so wise? The story ends not there. That young men whose early +life had been one of hardships found himself, indeed, well-housed and fed as +the Lord Giovanni had promised him, and so he fell into a slothful spirit, and +was content to play the Fool for bed and board. +</p> + +<p> +“There were times when conscience knocked loudly at my heart, and I was +tortured with shame to see myself in the garb of Fools, the sport of all, from +prince to scullion. But in the three years that I had dwelt at Pesaro my +identity had been forgotten by the few who had ever been aware of it. Moreover, +a court is a place of changes, and in three years there had been such comings +and goings at the Court of Giovanni Sforza, that not more than one or two +remained of those that had inhabited it when first I entered on my existence +there. Thus had my position grown steadily more bearable. I was just a jester +and no more, and so, in a measure—though I blush to say it—I grew +content. I gathered consolation from the fact that there were not any who now +remembered the story of my coming to Pesaro, or who knew of the cowardliness I +had been guilty of when I consented to mask myself in the motley and assume the +name of Boccadoro. I counted on the Lord Giovanni’s generosity to let +things continue thus, and, meanwhile, I provided for my mother out of the vails +that were earned me by my shame. But there came a day when Giovanni in evil +wantonness of spirit chose to make merry at the Fool’s expense. +</p> + +<p> +“To be held up to scorn and ridicule is a part of the trade of such as I, +and had it been just Boccadoro whom Giovanni had exposed to the derision of his +Court, haply I had been his jester still. But such sport as that would have +satisfied but ill the deep-seated malice of his soul. The man whom his cruel +mockery crucified for their entertainment was Lazzaro Biancomonte, whom he +revealed to them, relating in his own fashion the tale I have told you. +</p> + +<p> +“At that I rebelled, and I said such things to him in that hour, before +all his Court, as a man may not say to a prince and live. Passion surged up in +him, and he ordered his castellan to flog me to the bone—in short, to +slay me with a whip. +</p> + +<p> +“From that punishment I was saved by the intercessions of Madonna +Lucrezia. But I was driven out of Pesaro that very night, and so it happens +that I am a wanderer now.” +</p> + +<p> +At that I left it. I had no mind to tell her what motives had impelled Lucrezia +Borgia to rescue me, nor on what errand I had gone to Rome and was from Rome +returning. +</p> + +<p> +She had heard me in silence, and now that I had done, she heaved a sigh, for +which gentle expression of pity out of my heart I thanked her. We were silent, +thereafter, for a little while. At length she turned her head to regard me in +the light of the now declining moon. +</p> + +<p> +“Messer Biancomonte,” said she, and the sound of the old name, +falling from her lips, thrilled me with a joy unspeakable, and seemed already +to reinvest me in my old estate, “Messer Biancomonte, you have done me in +these four-and-twenty hours such service as never did knight of old for any +lady—and you did it, too, out of the most disinterested and noble of +motives, proving thereby how truly knightly is that heart of yours, which, for +my sake, has all but beat its last to-night. You must journey on to Pesaro with +me despite this banishment of which you have told me. I will be surety that no +harm shall come to you. I could not do less, and I shall hope to do far more. +Such influence as I may prove to have with my cousin of Pesaro shall be exerted +all on your behalf, my friend; and if in the nature of Giovanni Sforza there be +a tithe of the gratitude with which you have inspired me, you shall, at least, +have justice, and Biancomonte shall be yours again.” +</p> + +<p> +I was silent for a spell, so touched was I by the kindness she manifested +me—so touched, indeed, and so unused to it that I forgot how amply I had +earned it, and how rudely she had used me ere that was done. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” I sighed. “God knows I am no longer fit to sit in the +house of the Biancomonte. I am come too low, Madonna.” +</p> + +<p> +“That Lazzaro, after whom you are named,” she answered, “had +come yet lower. But he lived again, and resumed his former station. Take your +courage from that.” +</p> + +<p> +“He lived not at the mercy of Giovanni of Pesaro,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +There was a fresh pause at that. Then—“At least,” she urged +me, “you’ll come to Pesaro with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why yes,” said I. “I could not let you go alone.” And +in my heart I felt a pang of shame, and called myself a cur for making use of +her as I was doing to reach the Court of Giovanni Sforza. +</p> + +<p> +“You need fear no consequences,” she promised me. “I can be +surety for that at least.” +</p> + +<p> +In the east a brighter, yellower light than the moon’s began to show. It +was the dawn, from which I gathered that it must be approaching the thirteenth +hour. Pesaro could not be more than a couple of leagues farther, and, +presently, when we had gained the summit of the slight hill we were ascending, +we beheld in the distance a blurred mass looming on the edge of the glittering +sea. A silver ribbon that uncoiled itself from the western hills disappeared +behind it. That silvery streak was the River Foglia; that heap of buildings +against the landscape’s virgin white, the town of Pesaro. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna pointed to it with a sudden cry of gladness. “See Messer +Biancomonte, how near we are. Courage, my friend; a little farther, and yonder +we have rest and comfort for you.” +</p> + +<p> +She had need, in truth, to cry me “Courage!” for I was weakening +fast once more. It may have been the much that I had talked, or the infernal +jolting of my mule, but I was losing blood again, and as we were on the point +of riding forward my senses swam, so that I cried out; and but for her prompt +assistance I might have rolled headlong from my saddle. +</p> + +<p> +As it was, she caught me about the waist as any mother might have done her son. +“What ails you?” she inquired, her newly-aroused anxiety +contrasting sharply with her joyous cry of a moment earlier. “Are you +faint, my friend?” It needed no confession on my part. My condition was +all too plain as I leaned against her frail body for support. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my wound,” I gasped. Then I set my teeth in anguish. So near +the haven, and to fail now! It could not be; it must not be. I summoned all my +resolution, all my fortitude; but in vain. Nature demanded payment for the +abuses she had suffered. +</p> + +<p> +“If we proceed thus,” she ventured fearfully, “you leaning +against me, and going at a slow pace—no faster than a walk—think +you, you can bear it? Try, good Messer ‘Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try, Madonna,” I replied. “Perhaps thus, and if I am +silent, we may yet reach Pesaro together. If not—if my strength gives +out—the town is yonder and the day is coming. You will find your way +without me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not leave you, sir,” she vowed; and it was good to hear +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, I hope you may not know the need,” I answered wearily. And +thus we started on once more. +</p> + +<p> +Sant’ Iddio! What agonies I suffered ere the sun rose up out of the sea +to flood us with his winter glory! What agonies were mine during those two +hours or so of that last stage of our eventful journey! “I must bear up +until we are at the gates of Pesaro,” I kept murmuring to myself, and, as +if my spirit were inclined to become the servant of my will and hold my +battered flesh alive until we got that far, Pesaro’s gates I had the joy +of entering ere I was constrained to give way. +</p> + +<p> +Dimly I remember—for very dim were my perceptions growing—that as +we crossed the bridge and passed beneath the archway of the Porta Romana, the +officer turned out to see who came. At sight of me be gaped a moment in +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Boccadoro?” he exclaimed, at last. “So soon returned?” +</p> + +<p> +“Like Perseus from the rescue of Andromeda,” answered I, in a +feeble voice, “saving that Perseus was less bloody than am I. Behold the +Madonna Paola Sforza di Santafior, the noble cousin of our High and Mighty +Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +And then as if my task being done, I were free to set my weary brain to rest, +my senses grew confused, the officer’s voice became a hum that gradually +waxed fainter as I sank into what seemed the most luxurious and delicious sleep +that ever mortal knew. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later, when I was conscious once more, I learned what excitement those +words of mine had sown, with what honours Madonna Paola was escorted to the +Castle, and how the citizens of Pesaro turned out upon hearing the news which +ran like fire before us. And Madonna, it seems, had loudly proclaimed how +gallantly I had served her, for as they bore me along in a cloak carried by +four men-at-arms, the cry that was heard in the streets of Pesaro that morning +was “Boccadoro!” They had loved me, had those good citizens of +Pesaro, and the news of my departure had cast a gloom upon the town. To have +their hero return in a manner so truly heroic provoked that brave display of +their affection, and I deeply doubt if ever in the days of greatest loyalty the +name of Sforza was as loudly cried in Pesaro as, they tell me, was the name of +Sforza’s Fool that day. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII.<br /> +THE SUMMONS FROM ROME</h2> + +<p> +If Madonna Paola did not achieve quite all that she had promised me so readily, +yet she achieved more than from my acquaintance with the nature of Giovanni +Sforza—and my knowledge of the deep malice he entertained for me—I +should have dared to hope. +</p> + +<p> +The Tyrant of Pesaro, as I was soon to learn, was greatly taken with this fair +cousin of his, whom that morning he had beheld for the first time. And being +taken with her, it may be that Giovanni listened the more readily to her +intercessions on my poor behalf. Since it was she who begged this thing, he +could not wholly refuse. But since he was Giovanni Sforza, he could not wholly +grant. He promised her that my life, at least, should be secure, and that not +only would he pardon me, but that he would have his own physician see to it +that I was made sound again. For the time, that was enough, he thought. First +let them bring me back to life. When that was achieved, it would be early +enough to consider what course this life should take thereafter. +</p> + +<p> +And she, knowing him not and finding him so kind and gracious, trusted that he +would perform that which he tricked her into believing that he promised. +</p> + +<p> +For some ten days I lay abed, feverish at first and later very weak from the +great loss of blood I had sustained. But after the second day, when my fever +had abated, I had some visitors, among whom was Madonna Paola, who bore me the +news that her intercessions for me with the Lord of Pesaro were likely to bear +fruit, and that I might look for my reinstatement. Yet, if I permitted myself +to hope as she bade me; I did so none too fully. +</p> + +<p> +My situation, bearing in mind how at once I had served and thwarted the ends of +Cesare Borgia, was perplexing. +</p> + +<p> +Another visitor I had was Messer Magistri—the pompous seneschal of +Pesaro—who, after his own fashion, seemed to have a liking for me, and a +certain pity. Here was my chance of discharging the true errand on which I was +returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I owe thanks,” said I, “to many circumstances for the +sparing of my life; but above all people and all things do I owe thanks to our +gracious Lady Lucrezia. Do you think, Messer Magistri, that she would consent +to see me and permit me again to express the gratitude that fills my +heart?” +</p> + +<p> +Mosser Magistri thought that he could promise this, and consented to bear my +message to her. Within the hour she was at my bedside and divining that, haply, +I had news to give her of the letter I had born her brother, she dismissed +Magistri who was in attendance. +</p> + +<p> +Once we were alone her first words were of kindly concern for my condition, +delivered in that sweet, musical voice that was by no means the least charm of +a princess to whom Nature had been prodigal of gifts. For without going to that +length of exaggerated praise which some have bestowed—for her own ear, +and with an eye to profit—upon Madonna Lucrezia, yet were I less than +truthful if I sought to belittle her ample claims to beauty. Some six years +later than the time of which I write she was met on the occasion of her entry +into Ferrara by a certain clown dressed in the scanty guise of the shepherd +Paris, who proffered her the apple of beauty with the mean-souled flattery that +since beholding her he had been forced to alter his old-time judgment in favour +of Venus. +</p> + +<p> +He lied, like the brazen, self-seeking adulator that he was, and for which he +should have been soundly whipped. Her nose was a shade too long, her chin a +shade too short to admit, even remotely, of such comparisons. Still, that she +had a certain gracious beauty, as I have said, it is not mine to deny. There +was an almost childish freshness in her face, an almost childish innocence in +her fine gray eyes, and, above all, a golden and resplendent hair as brought to +mind the tresses of God’s angels. +</p> + +<p> +That fair child—for no more than a child was she—drew a chair to my +bedside. +</p> + +<p> +There she sate herself, whilst I thanked her for her concern on my behalf, and +answered that I was doing well enough, and should be abroad again in a day or +two. +</p> + +<p> +“Brave lad,” she murmured, patting my hand, which lay upon the +coverlet, as though she had been my sister and I anything but a Fool, +“count me ever your friend hereafter, for what you have done for Madonna +Paola. For although it was my own family you thwarted, yet you did so to serve +one who is more to me than any family, more than any sister could be.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I did, Madonna,” I answered, “I did with the better +heart since it opened out a way that was barred me, solved me a riddle which my +Lord, your Illustrious brother, set me—one that otherwise might well have +overtaxed my wits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah?” Her gray eyes fell on me in a swift and searching glance, a +glance that revealed to the full their matchless beauty. Care seemed of a +sudden to have aged her face. The question of her eyes needed no translation +into words. +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord Cardinal of Valencia entrusted me with a letter for you, in +answer to your own,” I informed her, and from underneath my pillow I drew +the package, which during Magistri’s absence I had abstracted from my +boot that I might have it in readiness when she came. +</p> + +<p> +She sighed as she took it, and a wistful smile invested the corners of her +mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“I had hoped he would have found better employment for you,” she +said. +</p> + +<p> +“His Excellency promised that he would more fitly employ me in the future +did I discharge this errand with secrecy and despatch. But by aiding Madonna +Paola I have burned my boats against returning to claim the redemption of that +promise; though had it not been for Madonna Paola and what I did, I scarce know +how I should have penetrated here to you.” +</p> + +<p> +She broke the seal, and rising crossed to the window, where she stood reading +the letter, her back toward me. Presently I heard a stifled sob. The letter was +crushed in her hand. Then moments passed ere she confronted me once more. But +her manner as all changed; she was agitated and preoccupied, and for all that +she forced herself to talk of me and my affairs, her mind was clearly +elsewhere. At last she left me, nor did I see her again during the time I was +confined to my bed. +</p> + +<p> +On the eleventh day I rose, and the weather being mild and spring-like, I was +permitted by my grave-faced doctor to take the air a little on the terrace that +overlooks the sea. I found no garments but some suits of motley, and so, in +despite of my repugnance now to reassume that garb, I had no choice but to +array myself in one of these. I selected the least garish one—a suit of +black and yellow stripes, with hose that was half black, half yellow, too; and +so, leaning upon the crutch they had left me, I crept forth into the sunlight, +the very ghost of the man that I had been a fortnight ago. +</p> + +<p> +I found a stone seat in a sheltered corner looking southward towards Ancona, +and there I rested me and breathed the strong invigorating air of the Adriatic. +The snows were gone, and between me and the wall some twenty paces +off—there was a stretch of soft, green turf. +</p> + +<p> +I had brought with me a book that Madonna Lucrezia had sent me while I was yet +abed. It was a manuscript collection of Spanish odes, with the proverbs of one +Domenico Lopez—all very proper nourishment for a jester’s mind. The +odes seemed to possess a certain quaintness, and among the proverbs there were +many that were new to me in framing and in substance. Moreover, I was glad of +this means of improving my acquaintance with the tongue of Spain, and I was +soon absorbed. So absorbed, indeed, as never to hear the footsteps of the Lord +Giovanni, when presently he approached me unattended, nor to guess at his +presence until his shadow fell athwart my page. I raised my eyes, and seeing +who it was I made shift to get on my feet; but he commanded me to remain +seated, commenting sympathetically upon my weak condition. +</p> + +<p> +He asked me what I read, and when I had told him, a thin smile fluttered across +his white face. +</p> + +<p> +“You choose your reading with rare judgment,” said he. “Read +on, and prime your mind with fresh humour, prepare yourself with new conceits +for our amusement against the time when health shall be more fully restored +you.” +</p> + +<p> +It was in such words as these that he intimated to me that I was pardoned, and +reinstated—as the Fool of the Court of Pesaro. That was to be the sum of +his clemency. We were precisely where we had been. Once before had he granted +me my life on condition that I should amuse him; he did no more than repeat +that mercy now. I stared at him in wonder, open-mouthed, whereit he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are agreeably surprised, my Boccadoro?” said he, his fingers +straying to his beard as was his custom. “My clemency is no more than you +deserve in return for the service you have rendered to the House of +Sforza.” And he patted my head as though I had been one of his dogs that +had borne itself bravely in the chase. +</p> + +<p> +I answered nothing. I sat there as if I had been a part of the stone from which +my seat was hewn, for I lacked the strength to rise and strangle him as he +deserved—moreover, I was bound by an oath, which it would have damned my +soul to break, never to raise my hand against him. +</p> + +<p> +And then, before he could say more, two ladies issued from the doorway on my +right. They were Madonna Lucrezia and Madonna Paola. Upon espying me they +hastened forward with expressions of pleased surprise at seeing me risen and +out, and when I would have got to my feet they stayed me as Giovanni had done. +Madonna Paola’s words seemed addressed to heaven rather than to me, for +they were words of thanksgiving for this recovery of my strength. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no thanks,” she ended warmly, “that can match the +deeds by which you earned them, Messer Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +My eyes drifting to Giovanni’s face surprised its sudden darkening. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna Paola,” said he, in an icy voice, “you have uttered +a name that must not be heard within my walls of Pesaro, if you would prove +yourself the friend of Boccadoro. To remind me of his true identity is to +remind me of that which counts not in his favour.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned to regard him, a mild surprise in her blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my lord, you promised—” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“I promised,” he interposed, with an easy smile and manner never so +deprecatory, “that I would pardon him, grant him his life and restore him +to my favour.” +</p> + +<p> +“But did you not say that if he survived and was restored to strength you +would then determine the course his life should take?” +</p> + +<p> +Still smiling, he produced his comfit-box, and raised the lid. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a thing he seems to have determined for himself,” he +answered smoothly—he could be smooth as a cat upon occasion, could this +bastard of Costanzo Sforza. “I came upon him here, arrayed as you behold +him, and reading a book of Spanish quips. Is it not clear that he has +chosen?” +</p> + +<p> +Between thumb and forefinger he balanced a sugar-crusted comfit of coriander +seed steeped in marjoram vinegar, and having put his question he bore the +sweet-meat to his mouth. The ladies looked at him, and from him to me. Then +Madonna Paola spoke, and there seemed a reproachful wonder in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this indeed your choice?” she asked me. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the choice that was forced on me,” said I, in heat. +“They left me no garment save these of folly. That I was reading this +book it pleases my lord to interpret into a further sign of my +intentions.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned to him again, and to the appeal she made was joined that of Madonna +Lucrezia. He grew serious and put up his hand in a gesture of rare loftiness. +</p> + +<p> +“I am more clement than you think,” said he, “in having done +so much. For the rest, the restoration that you ask for him is one involving +political issues you little dream of. What is this?” +</p> + +<p> +He had turned abruptly. A servant was approaching, leading a mud-splashed +courier, whom he announced as having just arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Whence are you?” Giovanni questioned him. +</p> + +<p> +“From the Holy See,” answered the courier, bowing, “with +letters for the High and Mighty Lord Giovanni Sforza, Tyrant of Pesaro, and his +noble spouse, Madonna Lucrezia Borgia.” +</p> + +<p> +He proffered his letters as he spoke, and Giovanni, whose brow had grown +overcast, took them with a hand that seemed reluctant. Then bidding the servant +see to the courier’s refreshment, he dismissed them both. +</p> + +<p> +A moment he stood, balancing the parchments a if from their weight he would +infer the gravity of their contents; and the affairs of Boccadoro were, there +and then, forgotten by us all. For the thought that rose uppermost in our +minds—saving always that of Madonna Lucrezia—was that these +communications concerned the sheltering of Madonna Paola, and were a command +for her immediate return to Rome. At last Giovanni handed his wife the letter +intended for her, and, in silence, broke the seal of his own. +</p> + +<p> +He unfolded it with a grim smile, but scarce had he begun to read when his +expression softened into one of terror, and his face grew ashen. Next it flared +crimson, the veins on his brow stood out like ropes, and his eyes flashed +furiously upon Madonna Lucrezia. She was reading, her bosom rising and falling +in token of the excitement that possessed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” he cried in an awful voice, “I have here a command +from the Holy See to repair at once to Rome, to answer certain charges that are +preferred against me relating to my marriage. Madonna, know you aught of +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, sir,” she answered steadily, “that I, too, have here +a letter calling me to Rome. But there is no reason given for the +summons.” +</p> + +<p> +Intuitively it flashed across my mind that whatever the matter might be, +Madonna Lucrezia had full knowledge of it through the letter I had brought her +from her brother. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you conjecture, Madonna, what are these charges to which my letter +vaguely alludes?” Giovanni was inquiring. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, but the subject is scarcely of a nature to permit +discussion in the castle courtyard. Its character is intimate.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her very searchingly, but for all that he was a man of almost +twice her years, her wits were more than a match for his, and his scrutiny can +have told him nothing. She preserved a calm, unruffled front. +</p> + +<p> +“In five minutes, Madonna,” said he, very sternly, “I shall +be honoured if you will receive me in your closet.” +</p> + +<p> +She inclined her head, murmuring an unhesitating assent. Satisfied, he bowed to +her and to Madonna Paola—who had been looking on with eyes that wonder +had set wide open—and turning on his heel he strode briskly away. As he +passed into the castle, Madonna Lucrezia heaved a sigh and rose. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor Boccadoro,” she cried, “I fear me your affairs must +wait a while. But think of me always as your friend, and believe that if I can +prevail upon my brother to overlook the ill-turn you did him when you entered +the service of this child”—and she pointed to Madonna +Paola—“I shall send for you from Rome, for in Pesaro I fear you +have little to hope for. But let this be a secret between us.” +</p> + +<p> +From those words of hers I inferred, as perhaps she meant I should, that once +she left Pesaro to obey her father’s summons, our little northern state +was to know her no more. Once again, only, did I see her, on the occasion of +her departure, some four days later, and then but for a moment. Back to Pesaro +she came no more, as you shall learn anon; but behind her she left a sweet and +fragrant memory, which still endures though many years are sped and much +calumny has been heaped upon her name. +</p> + +<p> +I might pause here to make some attempt at refuting the base falsehoods that +had been bruited by that time-serving vassal Guicciardini, and others of his +kidney, whom the upstart Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere—sometime +pedlar—in his jealous fury at seeing the coveted pontificate pass into +the family of Borgia, bought and hired to do his loathsome work of calumny and +besmirch the fame of as sweet a lady as Italy has known. But this poor +chronicle of mine is rather concerned with the history of Madonna Paola di +Santafior, and it were a divergence well-nigh unpardonable to set my pen at +present to that other task. Moreover, there is scarce the need. If any there be +who doubt me, or if future generations should fall into the error of lending +credence to the lies of that villain Guicciardini, of that arch-villain +Giuliano della Rovere, or of other smaller fry who have lent their +helot’s pens to weave mendacious records of her life, dubbing her +murderess, adulteress, and Heaven knows what besides—I will but refer +them to the archives of Ferrara, whose Duchess she became at the age of +one-and-twenty, and where she reigned for eighteen years. There shall it be +found recorded that she was an exemplary, God-fearing woman; a faithful and +honoured wife; a wise, devoted mother; and a princess, beloved and esteemed by +her people for her piety, her charity and her wisdom. If such records as are +there to be read by earnest seekers after truth be not sufficient to convince, +and to reveal those others whom I have named in the light of their true +baseness, then were it idle for me to set up in these pages a passing +refutation of the falsehoods which it has grieved me so often to hear repeated. +</p> + +<p> +It was two days later that the Lord Giovanni set out for Rome, obedient to the +command he had received. But before his departure—on the eve of it, to be +precise—there arrived at Pesaro a very wonderful and handsome gentleman. +This was the brother of Madonna Paola, the High and Mighty Lord Filippo di +Santafior. He had had a hint in Rome that his connivance at his sister’s +defiant escape was suspected at the Vatican, and he had wisely determined that +his health would thrive better in a northern climate for a while. +</p> + +<p> +A very splendid creature was this Lord Filippo, all shimmering velvet, gleaming +jewels, costly furs and glittering gold. His face was effeminate, though finely +featured, and resembled, in much, his sister’s. He rode a cream-coloured +horse, which seemed to have been steeped in musk, so strongly was it scented. +But of all his affectations the one with which I as taken most was to see one +of his grooms approach him when he dismounted, to dust his wondrous clothes +down to his shoes, which he wore in the splayed fashion set by the late King of +France who was blessed with twelve toes on each of his deformed feet. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Giovanni, himself not lacking in effeminacy, was greatly taken by the +wondrous raiment, the studied lisp and the hundred affectations of this +peerless gallant. Had he not been overburdened at the time by the Papal +business that impended, he might there and then have cemented the intimacy +which was later to spring up between them. As it was, he made him very welcome, +and placed at his and his sister’s disposal the beautiful palace that his +father had begun, and he, himself, had completed, which was known as the +Palazza Sforza. On the morrow Giovanni left Pesaro with but a small retinue, in +which I was thankful not to be included. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later Madonna Lucrezia followed her husband, the fact that they +journeyed not together, seeming to wear an ominous significance. Her eyes had a +swollen look, such as attends much weeping, which afterwards I took as proof +that she knew for what purpose she was going, and was moved to bitter grief at +the act to which her ambitious family was constraining her. +</p> + +<p> +After their departure things moved sluggishly at Pesaro. The nobles of the Lord +Giovanni’s Court repaired to their several houses in the neighboring +country, and save for the officers of the household the place became deserted. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna Paola remained at the Sforza Palace, and I saw her only once during the +two mouths that followed, and then it was about the streets, and she had little +more than a greeting for me as she passed. At her side rode her brother, a +splendid blaze of finery, falcon on wrist. +</p> + +<p> +My days were spent in reading and reflection, for there was naught else to do. +I might have gone my ways, had I so wished it, but something kept me there at +Pesaro, curious to see the events with which the time was growing big. +</p> + +<p> +We grew sadly stagnant during Lent, and what with the uneventful course of +things, and the lean fare proscribed by Mother Church, it was a very dispirited +Boccadoro that wandered aimlessly whither his dulling fancy took him. But in +Holy Week, at last, we received an abrupt stir which set a whirlpool of +excitement in the Dead Sea of our lives. It was the sudden reappearance of the +Lord Giovanni. +</p> + +<p> +He came alone, dust-stained and haggard, on a horse that dropped dead from +exhaustion the moment Pesaro was reached, and in his pallid cheek and hollow +eye we read the tale of some great fear and some disaster. +</p> + +<p> +That night we heard the story of how he had performed the feat of riding all +the way from Rome in four-and-twenty hours, fleeing for his life from the peril +of assassination, of which Madonna Lucrezia had warned him. +</p> + +<p> +He went off to his Castle of Gradara, where he shut himself up with the trouble +we could but guess at, and so in Pesaro, that brief excitement spent, we +stagnated once again. +</p> + +<p> +I seemed an anomaly in so gloomy a place, and more than once did I think of +departing and seeking out my poor old mother in her mountain home, contenting +myself hereafter with labouring like any honest villano born to the soil. But +there ever seemed to be a voice that bade me stay and wait, and the voice bore +a suggestion of Madonna Paola. But why dissemble here? Why cast out hints of +voices heard, supernatural in their flavour? The voice, I doubt not, was just +my own inclination, which bade me hope that once again it might be mine to +serve that lady. +</p> + +<p> +An eventful year in the history of the families of Sforza and Borgia was that +year of grace 1497. +</p> + +<p> +Spring came, and ere it had quite grown to summer we had news of the +assassination of the Duke of Gandia, and the tale that he was done to death by +his elder brother, Cesare Borgia; a tale which seemed to lack for reasonable +substantiation, and which, despite the many voices that make bold to noise it +broadcast, may or may not be true. +</p> + +<p> +In that same month of June messages passed between Rome and Pesaro, and +gradually the burden of the messages leaked out in rumours that Pope Alexander +and his family were pressing the Lord Giovanni to consent to a divorce. At last +he left Pesaro again; this time to journey to Milan and seek counsel with his +powerful cousin, Lodovico, whom they called “The Moor.” When he +returned he was more sulky and downcast than ever, and at Gradara he lived in +an isolation that had been worthy of a hermit. +</p> + +<p> +And thus that miserable year wore itself out, and, at last, in December, we +heard that the divorce was announced, and that Lucrezia Borgia was the Tyrant +of Pesaro’s wife no more. The news of it and the reasons that were put +forward as having led to it were roared across Italy in a great, derisive burst +of laughter, of which the Lord Giovanni was the unfortunate and contemptible +butt. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +“MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN”</h2> + +<p> +And now, lest I grow tedious and weary you with this narrative of mine, it may +be well that I but touch with a fugitive pen upon the events of the next three +years of the history of Pesaro. +</p> + +<p> +Early in 1498 the Lord Giovanni showed himself once more abroad, and he seemed +again the same weak, cruel, pleasure-loving tyrant he had been before shame +overtook him and drove him for a season into hiding. Madonna Paola and her +brother, Filippo di Santafior, remained in Pesaro, where they now appeared to +have taken up their permanent abode. Madonna Paola—following her +inclinations—withdrew to the Convent of Santa Caterina, there to pursue +in peace the studies for which she had a taste, whilst her splendid, profligate +brother became the ornament—the arbiter elegantiarum—of our court. +</p> + +<p> +Thus were they left undisturbed; for in the cauldron of Borgia politics a stew +was simmering that demanded all that family’s attention, and of whose +import we guessed something when we heard that Cesare Borgia had flung aside +his cardinalitial robes to put on armour and give freer rein to the boundless +ambition that consumed him. +</p> + +<p> +With me life moved as if that winter excursion and adventure had never been. +Even the memory of it must have faded into a haze that scarce left discernible +any semblance of reality, for I was once again Boccadoro, the golden-mouthed +Fool, whose sayings were echoed by every jester throughout Italy. My shame that +for a brief season had risen up in arms seemed to be laid to rest once more, +and I was content with the burden that was mine. Money I had in plenty, for +when I pleased him the Lord Giovanni’s vails were often handsome, and +much of my earnings went to my poor mother, who would sooner have died starving +than have bought herself bread with those ducats could she have guessed at what +manner of trade Lazzaro Biancomonte had earned them. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Giovanni was a frequent visitor at the Convent of Santa Caterina, +whither he went, ever attended by Filippo di Santafior, to pay his duty to his +fair cousin. In the summer of 1500, she being then come to the age of eighteen, +and as divinely beautiful a lady as you could find in Italy, she allowed +herself to be persuaded by her brother—who, I make no doubt had been, in +his turn, persuaded by the Lord of Pesaro—to leave her convent and her +studies, and to take up her life at the Sforza Palace, where Filippo held by +now a sort of petty court of his own. +</p> + +<p> +And now it fell out that the Lord Giovanni was oftener at the Palace than at +the Castle, and during that summer Pesaro was given over to such merrymaking as +it had never known before. There was endless lute-thrumming and recitation of +verses by a score of parasite poets whom the Lord Giovanni encouraged, posing +now as a patron of letters; there were balls and masques and comedies beyond +number, and we were as gay as though Italy held no Cesare Borgia, Duke of +Valentinois, who was sweeping northward with his all-conquering flood of +mercenaries. +</p> + +<p> +But one there was who, though the very centre of all these merry doings, the +very one in whose honour and for whose delectation they were set afoot, seemed +listless and dispirited in that boisterous crowd. This was Madonna Paola, to +whom, rumour had it, that her kinsman, the Lord Giovanni, was paying a most +ardent suit. +</p> + +<p> +I saw her daily now, and often would she choose me for her sole companion; +often, sitting apart with me, would she unburden her heart and tell me much +that I am assured she would have told no other. A strange thing may it have +seemed, this confidence between the Fool and the noble Lady of +Santafior—my Holy Flower of the Quince, as in my thoughts I grew to name +her. Perhaps it may have been because she found me ever ready to be sober at +her bidding, when she needed sober company as those other fools—the +greater fools since they accounted themselves wise—could not afford her. +</p> + +<p> +That winter adventure betwixt Cagli and Pesaro was a link that bound us +together, and caused her to see under my motley and my masking smile the true +Lazzaro Biancomonte whom for a little season she had known. And when we were +alone it had become her wont to call me Lazzaro, leaving that other name that +they had given me for use when others were at hand. Yet never did she refer to +my condition, or wound me by seeking to spur me to the ambition to become +myself again. Haply she was content that I should be as I sas, since had I +sought to become different it must have entailed my quitting Pesaro, and this +poor lady was so bereft of friends that she could not afford to lose even the +sympathy of the despised jester. +</p> + +<p> +It was in those days that I first came to love her with as pure a flame as ever +burned within the heart of man, for the very hopelessness of it preserved its +holy whiteness. What could I do, if I would love her, but love her as the dog +may love his mistress? More was surely not for me—and to seek more were +surely a madness that must earn me less. And so, I was content to let things +be, and keep my heart in check, thanking God for the mercy of her company at +times, and for the precious confidences she made me, and praying +Heaven—for of my love was I grown devout—that her life might run a +smooth and happy course, and ready, in the furtherance of such an object, to +lay down my own should the need arise. Indeed there were times when it seemed +to me that it was a good thing to be a Fool to know a love of so rare a purity +as that—such a love as I might never have known had I been of her +station, and in such case as to have hoped to win her some day for my own. +</p> + +<p> +One evening of late August, when the vines were heavy with ripe fruit, and the +scent of roses was permeating the tepid air, she drew me from the throng of +courtiers that made merry in the Palace, and led me out into the noble gardens +to seek counsel with me, she said, upon a matter of gravest moment. There, +under the sky of deepest blue, crimsoning to saffron where the sun had set, we +paced awhile in silence, my own senses held in thrall by the beauty of the +eventide, the ambient perfumes of the air and the strains of music that faintly +reached us from the Palace. Madonna’s head was bent, and her eyes were +set upon the ground and burdened, so my furtive glance assured me, with a +gentle sorrow. At length she spoke, and at the words she uttered my heart +seemed for a moment to stand still. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” said she, “they would have me marry.” +</p> + +<p> +For a little spell there was a silence, my wits seeming to have grown too +numbed to attempt to seek an answer. I might be content, indeed, to love her +from a distance, as the cloistered monk may love and worship some particular +saint in Heaven; yet it seems that I was not proof against jealousy for all the +abstract quality of my worship. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” she repeated presently, “did you hear me? They +would have me marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard some such talk,” I answered, rousing myself at last; +“and they say that it is the Lord Giovanni who would prove worthy of your +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say rightly, then,” she acknowledged. “The Lord +Giovanni it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Again there was a silence, and again it was she who broke it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lazzaro?” she asked. “Have you naught to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have me say, Madonna? If this wedding accords with your +own wishes, then am I glad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro, Lazzaro! you know that it does not.” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know it, Madonna?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because your wits are shrewd, and because you know me. Think you this +petty tyrant is such a man as I should find it in my heart to conceive +affection for? Grateful to him am I for the shelter he has afforded us here; +but my love—that is a thing I keep, or fain would keep, for some very +different man. When I love, I think it will be a valorous knight, a gentleman +of lofty mind, of noble virtues and ready address.” +</p> + +<p> +“An excellent principle on which to go in quest of a husband, Madonna +mia. But where in this degenerate world do you look to find him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are there, then, no such men?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the pages of Bojardo and those other poets whom you have read too +earnestly there may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, there speaks your cynicism,” she chided me. “But even +if my ideals be too lofty, would you have me descend from the height of such a +pinnacle to the level of the Lord Giovanni—a weak-spirited craven, as +witnesses the manner in which he permitted the Borgias to mishandle him; a +cruel and unjust tyrant, as witnesses his dealing with you, to seek no further +instances; a weak, ignorant, pleasure-loving fool, devoid of wit and barren of +ambition? Such is the man they would have me wed. Do not tell me, Lazzaro, that +it were difficult to find a better one than this.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not mean to tell you that. After all, though it be my trade to +jest, it is not my way to deal in falsehood. I think, Madonna, that if we were +to have you write for us such an appreciation of the High and Mighty Giovanni +Sforza, you would leave a very faithful portrait for the enlightenment of +posterity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro, do not jest!” she cried. “It is your help I need. +That is the reason why I am come to you with the tale of what they seek to +force me into doing.” +</p> + +<p> +“To force you?” I cried. “Would they dare so much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, if I resist them further.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then,” I answered, with a ready laugh, “do not resist +them further.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro!” she cried, her accents telling of a spirit wounded by +what she accounted a flippancy. +</p> + +<p> +“Mistake me not,” I hastened to elucidate. “It is lest they +should employ force and compel you at once to enter into this union that I +counsel you to offer no resistance. Beg for a little time, vaguely suggesting +that you are not indisposed to the Lord Giovanni’s suit.” +</p> + +<p> +“That were deceit,” she protested. +</p> + +<p> +“A trusty weapon with which to combat tyranny,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Well? And then?” she questioned. “Such a state of things +cannot endure for ever. It must end some day.” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head, and I smiled down upon her a smile that was very full of +confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“That day will never dawn, unless the Lord Giovanni’s impatience +transcends all bounds.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me, a puzzled glance in her eyes, a bewildered expression +knitting her fine brows. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not take your meaning, my friend,” she complained. +</p> + +<p> +“Then mark the enucleation. I will expound this meaning of mine through +the medium of a parable. In Babylon of old, there dwelt a king whose name was +Belshazzar, who, having fallen into habits of voluptuousness and luxury, was so +enslaved by them as to feast and make merry whilst a certain Darius, King of +the Medes, was marching in arms against his capital. At a feast one night the +fingers of a man’s hand were seen to write upon the wall, and the words +they wrote were a belated warning: ‘Mene, mene, tekel, +upharsin.’” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me, her eyes round with inquiry, and a faint smile of uncertainty +on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me confess that your elucidation helps me but little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ponder it, Madonna,” I urged her. “Substitute Giovanni +Sforza for Belshazzar, Cesare Borgia for King Darius, and you have the key to +my parable.” +</p> + +<p> +“But is it indeed so? Does danger threaten Pesaro from that +quarter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, does it,” I answered, almost impatiently. “The tide of +war is surging up, and presently will whelm us utterly. Yet here sits the Lord +Giovanni making merry with balls and masques and burle and banquets, wholly +unprepared, wholly unconscious of his peril. There may be no hand to write a +warning on his walls—or else, as in the case of Babylon, the hand will +write when it is too late to avert the evil—yet there are not wanting +other signs for those that have the wit to read them; nor is a wondrous +penetration needed.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you think then—” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that if you are obdurate with him, he and your brother may hurry +you by force into this union. But if you temporise with half-promises, with +suggestions that before Christmas you may grow reconciled to his wishes, he +will be patient.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what if Christmas comes and finds us still in this position?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will need a miracle for that; or, at least, the death of Cesare +Borgia—an unlikely event, for they say he uses great precautions. Saving +the miracle, and providing Cesare lives, I will give the Lord Giovanni’s +reign in Pesaro at most two months.” +</p> + +<p> +We had halted now, and were confronting each other in the descending gloom. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro, dear friend,” she cried, almost with gaiety, “I was +wise to take counsel with you. You have planted in my heart a very vigorous +growth of hope.” +</p> + +<p> +We turned soon after, and started to retrace our steps, for she might be +ill-advised to remain absent overlong. +</p> + +<p> +I left her on the terrace in a very different spirit from that in which she had +come to me, bearing with me her promise that she would act as I had advised +her. No doubt I had taken a load from her gentle soul, and oddly enough I had +taken, too, a load from mine. +</p> + +<p> +Things fell out as I said they would in far as Giovanni Sforza and Filippo were +concerned. Madonna’s seeming amenability to their wishes stayed their +insistence, and they could but respect her wishes to let the betrothal be +delayed yet a little while. And during the weeks that followed, it was I scarce +know whether more pitiable or more amusing to see the efforts that Giovanni +made to win her ardently desired affection. +</p> + +<p> +Love has sharp eyes at times, and a dullard under the influence of the baby god +will turn shrewd and exert rare wiles in the conduct of his wooing. Giovanni, +by some intuition usually foreign to his dull nature, seemed to divine what +manner of man would be Madonna Paola’s ideal, and strove to pass himself +off as possessed of the attributes of that ideal, with an ardour that was +pitiably comical. He became an actor by the side of whom those comedians that +played impromptus for his delectation were the merest bunglers with the art. He +gathered that Madonna Paola loved the poets and their stately diction, and so, +to please her better, he became a poet for the season. +</p> + +<p> +“Poeta nascitur” the proverb runs, and that proverb’s truth +was doubtless forced home upon the Lord Giovanni at an early stage of his +excursions into the flowery meads of prosody. Fortunately he lacked the supreme +vanity that is the attribute of most poetasters, and he was able to see that +such things as after hours of midnight-labour he contrived to pen, would evoke +nothing but her amusement—unless, indeed, it were her scorn—and +render him the laughing-stock of all his Court. +</p> + +<p> +So, in the wisdom of despair, he came to me, and with a gentleness that in the +past he had rarely manifested for me, he asked me was I skilled in writing +verse. There were not wanting others to whom he might have gone, for there was +no lack of rhymsters about his Court; but perhaps he thought he could be more +certain of my silence than of theirs. +</p> + +<p> +I answered him that were the subject to my taste, I might succeed in throwing +off some passable lines upon it. He pressed gold upon me, and bade me there and +then set about fashioning an ode to Madonna Paola, and to forget, when they +were done, under pain of a whipping to the bone, that I had written them. +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed him with a right good-will. For what subject of all subjects possible +was there that made so powerful an appeal to my inclinations? Within an hour he +had the ode—not perhaps such a poem as might stand comparison with the +verses of Messer Petrarca, yet a very passable effusion, chaste of conceit and +palpitating with sincerity and adoration. It was in that that I addressed her +as the “Holy Flower of the Quince,” which was the symbol of the +House of Santafior. +</p> + +<p> +So great an impression made that ode that on the morrow the Lord Giovanni came +to me with a second bribe and a second threat of torture. I gave him a sonnet +of Petrarchian manner which went near to outshining the merits of the ode. And +now, these requests of the Lord Giovanni’s assumed an almost daily +regularity, until it came to seem that did affairs continue in this manner for +yet a little while, I should have earned me enough to have repurchased +Biancomonte, and, so, ended my troubles. And good was the value that I gave him +for his gold. How good, he never knew; for how was he, the clod, to guess that +this despised jester of his Court was pouring out his very soul into the lines +he wrote to the tyrant’s orders? +</p> + +<p> +It is scant wonder that, at last, Madonna Paola who had begun by smiling, was +touched and moved by the ardent worship that sighed from those perfervid +verses. So touched, indeed, was she as to believe the Lord Giovanni’s +love to be the pure and holy thing those lines presented it, and to conclude +that his love had wrought in him a wondrous and ennobling transformation. That +so she thought I have the best of all reasons to affirm, for I had it from her +very lips one day. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” she sighed, “it is occurring to me that I have +done the Lord Giovanni an injustice. I have misgauged his character. I held him +to be a shallow, unlettered clown, devoid of any finer feelings. Yet his verses +have a merit that is far above the common note of these writings, and they +breathe such fine and lofty sentiments as could never spring from any but a +fine and lofty soul.” +</p> + +<p> +How I came to keep my tongue from wagging out the truth I scarcely know. It may +be that I was frightened of the punishment that might overtake me did I betray +my master; but I rather think that it was the fear of betraying myself, and so +being flung into the outer darkness where there was no such radiant presence as +Madonna Paola’s. For had I told her it was I had penned those poems that +were the marvel of the Court, she must of necessity have guessed my secret, for +to such quick wits as hers it must have been plain at once that they were no +vapourings of artistry, but the hot expressions of a burning truth. It was in +that—in their supreme sincerity—that their chief virtue lay. +</p> + +<p> +Thus weeks wore on. The vintage season came and went; the roses faded in the +gardens of the Palazzo Sforza, and the trees put on their autumn garb of gold. +October was upon us, and with it came, at last, the fear that long ago should +have spurred us into activity. And now that it came it did not come to +stimulate, but to palsy. Terror-stricken at the conquering advance of +Valentino—which was the name they now gave Cesare Borgia; a name derived +from his Duchy of Valentinois—Giovanni Sforza abruptly ceased his +revelling, and made a hurried appeal for help to Francesco Gonzaga, Lord of +Mantua—his brother-in-law, through the Lord of Pesaro’s first +marriage. The Mantuan Marquis sent him a hundred mercenaries under the command +of an Albanian named Giacomo. As well might he have sent him a hundred figs +wherewith to pelt the army of Valentino! +</p> + +<p> +Disaster swooped down swiftly upon the Lord of Pesaro. His very people, seeing +in what case they were, and how unprepared was their tyrant to defend them, +wisely resolved that they would run no risks of fire and pillage by aiding to +oppose the irresistible force that was being hurled against us. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the second Sunday in October that the storm burst over the Lord +Giovanni’s head. He was on the point of leaving the Castle to attend Mass +at San Domenico, and in his company were Filippo Sforza of Santafior and +Madonna Paola, besides courtiers and attendants, amounting in all to perhaps a +score of gallant cavaliers and ladies. The cavalcade was drawn up in the +quadrangle, and Giovanni was on the point of mounting, when, of a sudden, a +rumbling noise, as of distant thunder, but too continuous for that, arrested +him, his foot already in the stirrup. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” he asked, an ashen pallor overspreading his +effeminate face, as, doubtless, the thought of the enemy came uppermost in his +mind. +</p> + +<p> +Men looked at one another with fear in their eyes and some of the ladies raised +their voices in querulous beseeching for reassurance. They had their answer +even as they asked. The Albanian Giacomo, who was now virtually the provost of +the Castle, appeared suddenly at the gates with half a score of men. He raised +a warning hand, which compelled the Lord Giovanni to pause; then he rasped out +a brisk command to his followers. The winches creaked, and the drawbridge swung +up even as with a clank and rattle of chains the portcullis fell. +</p> + +<p> +That done, he came forward to impart the ominous news which one of his riders +had brought him at the gallop from the Porta Romana. +</p> + +<p> +A party of some fifty men, commanded by one of Cesare’s captains, had +ridden on in advance of the main army to call upon Pesaro to yield to the +forces of the Church. And the people, without hesitation, had butchered the +guard and thrown wide the gates, inviting the enemy to enter the town and seize +the Castle. And to the end that this might be the better achieved, a hundred or +so had traitorously taken up arms, and were pressing forward to support the +little company that came, with such contemptuous daring, to storm our fortress +and prepare the way for Valentino. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pretty situation this for the Lord Giovanni, and here were fine +opportunities for some brave acting under the eyes of his adored Madonna Paola. +How would he bear himself now? I wondered. +</p> + +<p> +He promised mighty well once the first shock of the news was overcome. +</p> + +<p> +“By God and His saints!” he roared, “though it may be all +that it is given me to do, I’ll strike a blow to punish these dastards +who have betrayed me, and to crush the presumption of this captain who attacks +us with fifty men. It is a contempt which he shall bitterly repent him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he thundered to Giacomo to marshal his men, and he called upon those of +his courtiers who were knights to put on their armour that they might support +him. Lastly he bade a page go help him to arm, that he might lead his little +force in person. +</p> + +<p> +I saw Madonna Paola’s eyes gleam with a sudden light of admiration, and I +guessed that in the matter of Giovanni’s valour her opinions were +undergoing the same change as the verses had caused them to undergo in the +matter of his intellect. +</p> + +<p> +Myself, I was amazed. For here was a Lord Giovanni I seemed never to have +known, and I was eager to behold the sequel to so fine a prologue. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX.<br /> +THE FOOL-AT-ARMS</h2> + +<p> +That valorous bearing that the Lord Giovanni showed whilst, with Madonna +Paola’s glance upon him, his fear of seeming afraid was greater than his +actual fear of our assailants, he cast aside like a mantle once he was within +the walls of his Castle, and under the eyes of none save the page and myself, +for I followed idly at a respectful distance. +</p> + +<p> +He stood irresolute and livid of countenance, his eagerness to arm and to lead +his mercenaries and his knights all departed out of him. It was that curiosity +of mine to see the sequel to his stout words that had led me to follow him, and +what I saw was, after all, no more than I might have looked for—the proof +that his big talk of sallying forth to battle was but so much acting. Yet it +must have been acting of such a quality as to have deceived even his very self. +</p> + +<p> +Now, however, by the main steps, he halted in the cool gloom of the gallery, +and I saw that fear had caught his heart in an icy grip and was squeezing it +empty. In his irresolution he turned about, and his gloomy eye fell upon me +loitering in the porch. At that he turned to the page who followed in obedience +to his command. +</p> + +<p> +“Begone!” he growled at the lad, “I will have Boccadoro, +there, to help me arm.” And with a poor attempt at mirth—“The +act is a madness,” he muttered, “and so it is fitting that folly +should put on my armour for it. Come with me, you,” he bade me, and I, +obediently, gladly, went forward and up the wide stone staircase after him, +leaving the page to speculate as he listed on the matter of his abrupt +dismissal. +</p> + +<p> +I read the Lord Giovanni’s motives, as clearly as if they had been +written for me by his own hand. The opinion in which I might hold him was to +him a matter of so small account that he little cared that I should be the +witness of the weakness which he feared was about to overcome him—nay, +which had overcome him already. Was I not the one man in Pesaro who already +knew his true nature, as revealed by that matter of the verses which I had +written, and of which he had assumed the authorship? He had no shame before me, +for I already knew the very worst of him, and he was confident that I would not +talk lest he should destroy me at my first word. And yet, there was more than +that in his motive for choosing me to go with him in that hour, as I was to +learn once we were closeted in his chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Boccadoro,” he cried, “can you not find me some way out of +this?” Under his beard I saw the quiver of his lips as he put the +question. +</p> + +<p> +“Out of this?” I echoed, scarce understanding him at first. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, man—out of this Castle, out of Pesaro. Bestir those wits of +yours. Is there no way in which it might be done, no disguise under which I +might escape?” +</p> + +<p> +“Escape?” quoth I, looking at him, and endeavouring to keep from my +eyes the contempt that was in my heart. Dear God! Had revenge been all I sought +of him, how I might have gloated over his miserable downfall! +</p> + +<p> +“Do not stand there staring with those hollow eyes,” he cried, +anger and fear blending horridly in his voice and rendering shrill its pitch. +“Find me a way. Come, knave, find me a way, or I’ll have you broken +on the wheel. Set your wits to save that long, lean body from destruction. +Think, I bid you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was moving restlessly as he spoke, swayed by the agitation of terror that +possessed him like a devil. I looked at him now without dissembling my scorn. +Even in such an hour as this the habit of hectoring cruelty remained him. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall it avail me to think?” I asked him in a voice that was +as cold and steady as his was hot and quavering. “Were you a bird I might +suggest flight across the sea to you. But you are a man, a very human, a very +mortal man, although your father made you Lord of Pesaro.” +</p> + +<p> +Even as I was speaking, the thunder of the besiegers reached our +ears—such a dull roar it was as that of a stormy sea in winter time. +Maddened by his terror he stood over me now, his eyes flashing wildly in his +white face. +</p> + +<p> +“Another word in such a tone,” he rasped, his fingers on his +dagger, “and I’ll make an end of you. I need your help, +animal!” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head, my glance meeting his without fear. I was of twice his +strength, we were alone, and the hour was one that levelled ranks. Had he made +the least attempt to carry out his threat, had he but drawn an inch of the +steel he fingered, I think I should have slain him with my hands without fear +or thought of consequences. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no help for you such as you need,” I answered him. “I +am but the Fool of Pesaro. Whoever looked to a Fool for miracles?” +</p> + +<p> +“But here is death,” he almost moaned. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord of Pesaro,” I reminded him, “your mercenaries are under +arms by your command, and your knights are joining them. They wait for the +fulfilment of your promise to lead them out against the enemy. Shall you fail +them in such an hour as this?” +</p> + +<p> +He sank, limp as an empty scabbard, to a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare not go. It is death,” he answered miserably. +</p> + +<p> +“And what but death is it to remain here?” I asked, torturing him +with more zest than ever he had experienced over the agonies of some poor +victim on the rack. “In bearing yourself gallantly there lies a slender +chance for you. Your people seeing you in arms and ready to defend them may yet +be moved to a return of loyalty.” +</p> + +<p> +“A fig for their loyalty,” was his peevish, craven answer. +“What shall it avail me when I’m slain!” +</p> + +<p> +God! was there ever such a coward as this, such a weak-souled, water-hearted +dastard? +</p> + +<p> +“But you may not be slain,” I urged him. And then I sounded a fresh +note. “Bethink you of Madonna Paola and of the brave things you promised +her.” +</p> + +<p> +He flushed a little, then paled again, then sat very still. Shame had touched +him at last, yet its grip was not enough to make a man of him. A moment he +remained irresolute, whilst that shame fought a hard battle with his fears. +</p> + +<p> +But those fears proved stronger in the end, and his shame was overthrown by +them. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare not,” he gasped, his slender, delicate hands clutching at +the arms of his chair. “Heaven knows I am not skilled in the use of +arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“It asks no skill,” I assured him. “Put on your armour, take +a sword and lay about you. The most ignorant scullion in your kitchens could +perform it given that he had the spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +He moistened his lips with his tongue, and his eyes looked dead as a +snake’s. Suddenly he rose and took a step towards the armour that was +piled about a great leathern chair. Then he paused and turned to me once more. +</p> + +<p> +“Help me to put it on,” he said in a voice that he strove to render +steady. Yet scarcely had I reached the pile and taken up the breast-plate, when +he recoiled again from the task. He broke into a torrent of blasphemy. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not sacrifice myself,” he almost screamed. “Jesus! +not I. I will find a way out of this. I will live to return with an army and +regain my throne.” +</p> + +<p> +“A most wise purpose. But, meanwhile, your men are waiting for you; +Madonna Paola di Santafior is waiting for you, and—hark!—the +bellowing crowd is waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“They wait in vain,” he snarled. “Who cares for them? The +Lord of Pesaro am I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Care you, then, nothing for them? Will you have your name written in +history as that of a coward who would not lift his sword to strike one blow for +honour’s sake ere he was driven out like a beast by the mere sound of +voices?” +</p> + +<p> +That touched him. His vanity rose in arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Take up that corselet,” he commanded hoarsely. I did his bidding, +and, without a word, he raised his arms that I might fit it to his breast. Yet +in the instant that I turned me to pick up the back-piece, a crash resounded +through the chamber. He had hurled the breastplate to the ground in a fresh +access of terror-rage. He strode towards me, his eyes glittering like a +madman’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Go you!” he cried, and with outstretched arms he pointed wildly +across the courtyard. “You are very ready with your counsels. Let me +behold your deeds, Do you put on the armour and go out to fight those +animals.” +</p> + +<p> +He raved, he ranted, he scarce knew what he said or did, and yet the words he +uttered sank deep into my heart, and a sudden, wild ambition swelled my bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord of Pesaro,” I cried, in a voice so compelling that it sobered +him, “if I do this thing what shall be my reward?” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at me stupidly for a moment. Then he laughed in a silly, crackling +fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” he queried. “Gesu!” And he passed a hand over his +damp brow, and threw back the hair that cumbered it. “What is the thing +that you would do, Fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the thing you bade me,” I answered firmly. “Put on your +armour, and shut down the visor so that all shall think it is the Lord +Giovanni, Tyrant of Pesaro, who rides. If I do this thing, and put to rout the +rabble and the fifty men that Cesare Borgia has sent, what shall be my +reward?” +</p> + +<p> +He watched me with twitching lips, his glare fixed upon me and a faint colour +kindling in his face. He saw how easy the thing might be. Perhaps he recalled +that he had heard that I was skilled in arms—having spent my youth in the +exercise of them, against the time when I might fling the challenge that had +brought me to my Fool’s estate. Maybe he recalled how I had borne myself +against long odds on that adventure with Madonna Paola, years ago. Just such a +vanity as had spurred him to have me write him verses that he might pretend +were of his own making, moved him now to grasp at my proposal. They would all +think that Giovanni’s armour contained Giovanni himself. None would ever +suspect Boccadoro the Fool within that shell of steel. His honour would be +vindicated, and he would not lose the esteem of Madonna Paola. Indeed, if I +returned covered with glory, that glory would be his; and if he elected to fly +thereafter, he might do so without hurt to his fair name, for he would have +amply proved his mettle and his courage. +</p> + +<p> +In some such fashion I doubt not that the High and Mighty Giovanni Sforza +reasoned during the seconds that we stood, face to face and eye to eye, in that +room, the cries of the impatient ones below almost drowned in the roar of the +multitude beyond. +</p> + +<p> +At last he put out his hands to seize mine, and drawing me to the light he +scanned my face, Heaven alone knowing what it was he sought there. +</p> + +<p> +“If you do this,” said he, “Biancomonte shall be yours again, +if it remains in my power to bestow it upon you now or at any future time. I +swear it by my honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Swear it by your fear of Hell or by your hope of Heaven and the compact +is made,” I answered, and so palsied was he and so fallen in spirit that +he showed no resentment at the scorn of his honour my words implied, but there +and then took the oath I that demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” I urged, “help me to put on this armour of +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +Hurriedly I cast off my jester’s doublet and my head-dress with its +jangling bells, and with a wild exultation, a joy so fierce as almost to bring +tears to my eyes, I held my arms aloft whilst that poor craven strapped about +my body the back and breast plates of his corselet. I, the Fool, stood there as +arrogant as any knight, whilst with his noble hands the Lord of Pesaro, +kneeling, made secure the greaves upon my legs, the sollerets with golden +spurs, the cuissarts and the genouilleres. Then he rose up, and with hands that +trembled in his eagerness, he put on my brassarts and shoulder-plates, whilst +I, myself, drew on my gauntlets. Next he adjusted the gorget, and handed me, +last of all, the helm, a splendid head-piece of black and gold, surmounted by +the Sforza lion. +</p> + +<p> +I took it from him and passed it over my head. Then ere I snapped down the +visor and hid the face of Boccadoro, I bade him, unless he would render futile +all this masquerade, to lock the door of his closet, and lie there concealed +till my return. At that a sudden doubt assailed him. +</p> + +<p> +“And what,” quoth he, “if you do not return?” +</p> + +<p> +In the fever that had possessed me this was a thing that had not entered into +my calculations, nor should it now. I laughed, and from the hollow of my helmet +not a doubt but the sound must have seemed charged with mockery. I pointed to +the cap and doublet I had shed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then, Illustrious, it will but remain for you to complete the +change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dog!” he cried; “beast, do you deride me?” +</p> + +<p> +My answer was to point out towards the yard. +</p> + +<p> +“They are clamouring,” said I. “They wax impatient. I had +better go before they come for you.” As I spoke I selected a heavy mace +for only weapon, and swinging it to my shoulder I stepped to the door. On the +threshold he would have stayed me, purged by his fear of what might befall him +did I not return. But I heeded him not. +</p> + +<p> +“Fare you well, my Lord of Pesaro,” said I. “See that none +penetrates to your closet. Make fast the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay!” he called after me. “Do you hear me? Stay!” +</p> + +<p> +“Others will hear you if you commit this folly,” I called back to +him. “Get you to cover.” And so I left him. +</p> + +<p> +Below, in the courtyard, my coming was hailed by a great, enthusiastic clamour. +They had all but abandoned hope of seeing the Lord Giovanni, so long had he +been about his arming. As they brought forward my charger, I sought with my +eyes Madonna Paola. I beheld her by her brother—who, it seemed, was not +going with us—in the front rank of the spectators. Her cheeks were tinged +with a slight flush of excitement, and her eyes glowed at the brave sight of +armed men. +</p> + +<p> +I mounted, and as I rode past her to take my place at the head of that company, +I lowered my mace and bowed. She detained me a moment, setting her hand upon +the glossy neck of my black charger. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” she said, in a low voice, intended for my ear alone, +“this is a brave and gallant thing you do, and however slight may be your +hope of prevailing, yet your honour will be safe-guarded by this act, and men +will remember you with respect should it come to pass that a usurper shall +possess anon your throne. Bear you that in mind to lend you a glad courage. I +shall pray for you, my Lord, till you return.” +</p> + +<p> +I bowed, answering never a word lest my voice should betray me; and musing on +the matter of the strange roads that lead to a woman’s heart, I passed +on, to gain the van. +</p> + +<p> +Two months ago, knowing Giovanni as he was, he had been detestable to her, and +she contemplated with loathing the danger in which she stood of being allied to +him by marriage. Since then he had made good use of a poor jester’s +mental gifts to incline her by the fervour of some verses to a kindlier frame +of mind, and now, making good use of that same jester’s courage, he +completed her subjection by the display of it. She was prepared to wed the Lord +Giovanni with a glad heart and a proud willingness whensoever he should desire +it. +</p> + +<p> +But Giacomo was beside me now, and in the quadrangle a silence reigned, all +waiting for my command. From without there came such a din as seemed to argue +that all hell was at the Castle gates. There were shouts of defiance and +screams of abuse, whilst a constant rain of stones beat against the raised +drawbridge. +</p> + +<p> +They thought, no doubt, that Giovanni and his followers were at their prayers, +cowering with terror. No notion had they of the armed force, some six score +strong, that waited to pour down upon them. I briskly issued my command, and +four men detached themselves and let down the bridge. It fell with a crash, and +ere those without had well grasped the situation we had hurled ourselves across +and into them with the force of a wedge, flinging them to right and to left as +we crashed through with hideous slaughter. The bridge swung up again when the +last of Giacomo’s mercenaries was across, and we were shut out, in the +midst of that fierce human maelstrom. +</p> + +<p> +For some five minutes there raged such a brief, hot fight as will be remembered +as long as Pesaro stands. No longer than that did it take for the crowd of +citizens to realise that war was not their trade, and that they had better +leave the fighting to Cesare Borgia’s men; and so they fell away and left +us a clear road to come at the men-at-arms. But already some forty of our +saddles were empty, and the fight, though brief, had proved exhausting to many +of us. +</p> + +<p> +Before us, like an array of mirrors in the October sun, shone the serried ranks +of the steel-cased Borgia soldiers, their lances in rest, waiting to receive +us. Their leader, a gigantic man whose head was armed by no more than a pot of +burnished steel, from which escaped the long red ringlets of his hair, was that +same Ramiro del’ Orca who had commanded the party pursuing Madonna Paola +three years ago. He was, since, become the most redoubtable of Cesare’s +captains, and his name was, perhaps, the best hated in Italy for the grim +stories that were connected with it. +</p> + +<p> +As we rode on he backed to join the foremost rank of his soldiers, and his +voice—a voice that Stentor might have envied—trumpeted a laugh at +sight of us. +</p> + +<p> +“Gesu!” he roared, so that I heard him above the thunder of our +hoofs. “What has come to Giovanni Sforza. Has he, perchance, become a man +since Madonna Lucrezia divorced him? I will bear her the news of it, my good +Giovanni—my living thunderbolt of Jove!” +</p> + +<p> +His men echoed his boisterous mood, infected by it, and this, I argued, boded +ill for the courage of those that followed me. Another moment and we had swept +into them, and many there were who laughed no more, or went to laugh with those +in Hell. +</p> + +<p> +For myself I singled out the blustering Ramiro, and I let him know it by a +swinging blow of my mace upon his morion. It was a most finely-tempered piece +of steel, for my stroke made no impression on it, though Ramiro winced and +raised his stout sword to return the compliment. +</p> + +<p> +“Body of God!” he croaked, “you become a very god of war, +Giovanni. To me, then, my lusty Mars! We’ll make a fight of it that poets +shall sing of over winter fires. Look to yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +His sword caught me a cunning, well-aimed blow on the side of my helm, and +thence, glanced to my shoulder. But for the quality of Giovanni’s +head-piece of a truth there had been an end to the warring of a Fool. I smote +him back, a mighty blow upon his epauliere that shore the steel plate from his +shoulder, and left him a vulnerable spot. At that he swore ferociously, and his +bloodshot eyes grew wicked as the fiend’s. A second time he essayed that +side-long blow upon my helm, and with such force and ready address that he +burst the fastening of my visor on the left, so that it swung down and left my +beaver open. +</p> + +<p> +With a cry of triumph he closed with me, and shortened his sword to stab me in +the face. And then a second cry escaped him, for the countenance he beheld was +not the countenance he had looked to see. Instead of the fair skin, the +handsome features and the bearded mouth of the Lord Giovanni, he beheld a +shaven face, a hooked nose and a complexion swarthy as the devil’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you, rogue,” he roared. “By the Host! your valour +seemed too fierce for Giovanni Sforza. You are Bocca—” +</p> + +<p> +Exerting all the strength that I had been gradually collecting, I hurled him +back with a force that almost drove him from the saddle, and rising in my +stirrups I rained blow after blow upon his morion ere he could recover. +</p> + +<p> +“Dog!” I muttered softly, “your knowledge shall be the death +of you.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew away from me at last, and during the moments that I spent in +readjusting my visor he sallied, and charged me again. His blustering was gone +and his face grown pale, for such blows as mine could not have been without +effect. Not a doubt of it but he was taken with amazement to find such fighting +qualities in a Fool—an amazement that must have eclipsed even that of +finding Boccadoro in the armour of Giovanni Sforza. +</p> + +<p> +Again he swung his sword in that favourite stroke of his; but this time I +caught the edge upon my mace, and ere he could recover I aimed a blow straight +at his face. He lowered his head, like a bull on the point of charging, and so +my blow descended again upon his morion, but with a force that rolled him, +senseless, from the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +Before I could take a breathing space I was beset by, at least, a dozen of his +followers who had stood at hand during the encounter, never doubting that +victory must be ultimately with their invincible captain. They drove me back +foot by foot, fighting lustily, and performing—it was said afterwards by +the anxious ones that watched us from the Castle, among whom was Madonna +Paola—such deeds of strength and prowess as never romancer sang of in his +wildest flight of fancy. +</p> + +<p> +My men had suffered sorely, but the brave Giacomo still held them together, +fired by the example that I set him, until in the end the day was ours. +Discouraged by the disabling of their captain, so soon as they had gathered him +up our opponents thought of nothing but retreat; and retreat they did, hotly +pursued by us, and never allowed to pause or slacken rein until we had hurled +them out of the town of Pesaro, to get them back to Cesare Borgia with the tale +of their ignominious discomfiture. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X.<br /> +THE FALL OF PESARO</h2> + +<p> +As we rode back through the town of Pesaro, some fifty men of the six score +that had sallied from the Castle a half-hour ago, we found the streets +well-nigh deserted, the rebellious citizens having fled back to the shelter of +their homes, like rats to their burrows in time of peril. +</p> + +<p> +As we advanced through the shambles that we had left about the Castle gates, it +occurred to me that within the courtyard a crowd would be waiting to receive +and welcome me, and it became necessary to devise some means of avoiding this +reception. I beckoned Giacomo to my side. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be given out that I will speak to no man until I have rendered +thanks to Heaven for this signal victory,” I muttered to the unsuspecting +Albanian. “Do you clear a way for me so soon a we are within.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed me so well that when the bridge had been let down, he preceded me +with a couple of his men and gently but firmly pressed back those that would +have approached—among the first of whom were Madonna Paola and her +brother. +</p> + +<p> +“Way!” he shouted. “Make way for the High and Mighty Lord of +Pesaro!” +</p> + +<p> +Thus I passed through, my half-shattered visor sufficiently closed still to +conceal my face, and in this manner I gained the door of the eastern wing and +dismounted. Two or three attendants sprang forward, ready to go with me that +they might assist me to disarm. But I waved them imperiously back, and mounted +the stairs alone. Alone I crossed the ante-chamber, and tapped at the door of +the Lord Giovanni’s closet. Instantly it opened, for he had watched my +return and been awaiting me. Hastily he drew me in and closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +He was flushed with excitement and trembling like a leaf. Yet at the sight that +I presented he lost some of his high colour, and recoiled to stare at my +armour, battered, dinted, and splashed with browning stains, which loudly +proclaimed the fray through which I had been. +</p> + +<p> +He fell to praising my valour, to speaking of the great service I had rendered +him, and of the gratitude that he would ever entertain for me, all in terms of +a fawning, cloying sweetness that disgusted me more than ever his cruelties had +done. I took off my helmet whilst he spoke, and let it fall with a crash. The +face I revealed to him was livid with fatigue, and blackened with the dust that +had caked upon my sweat. He came forward again and helped hastily to strip off +my harness, and when that was done he fetched a great silver basin and a ewer +of embossed gold from which he poured me fragrant rose-water that I might wash. +Macerated sweet herbs he found me, lupin meal and glasswort, the better that I +might cleanse myself; and when, at last, I was refreshed by my ablutions, he +poured me a goblet of a full-bodied golden wine that seemed to infuse fresh +life into my veins. And all the time he spoke of the prowess I had shown, and +lamented that all these years he should have had me at his Court and never +guessed my worth. +</p> + +<p> +At length I turned to resume my clothes. And since it must excite comment and +perhaps arouse suspicion were I to appear in any but my jester’s garish +livery, I once more assumed my foliated cape, my cap and bells. +</p> + +<p> +“Wear it yet for a little while,” he said, “and thus complete +the service you have done me. Presently you may doff it for all time, and +resume your true estate. Biancomonte, as I promised you, shall be yours again. +The Lord of Pesaro does not betray his word.” +</p> + +<p> +I smiled grimly at the pride of his utterance. +</p> + +<p> +“It is an easy thing,” said I, “freely to give that which is +no longer ours.” +</p> + +<p> +He coloured with the anger that was ever ready. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall that mean?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that in a few days you will have Cesare Borgia here, and you will +be Lord of Pesaro no more. I have saved your honour for you. More than that it +were idle to attempt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Think not that I shall submit,” he cried. “I shall find in +Italy the help I need to return and drive the usurper out. You must have faith +in that, yourself, else had you never bargained with me as you have done for +the return of your Estates.” +</p> + +<p> +To that I answered nothing, but urged him to go below and show himself; and the +better that he might bear himself among his courtiers, I detailed to him the +most salient features of that fight. +</p> + +<p> +He went, not without a certain uneasiness which, however, was soon dispelled by +the thunder of acclamation with which he was received; not only by his +courtiers, but by the soldiers who had fought in that hot skirmish, and who +believed that it was he had led them. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile I sat above, in the closet he had vacated, and thence I watched him, +with such mingling feelings in my heart as baffle now my halting pen. Scorn +there was in my mood and a hot contempt of him that he could stand there and +accept their acclamation with an air of humility that I am persuaded was +assumed: a certain envious anger was there, too, to think that such a +weak-kneed, lily-livered craven should receive the plaudits of the deeds that +I, his buffoon, had performed for him. Those acclamations were not for him, +although those who acclaimed him thought so. They were for the man who had +routed Ramiro del’ Orca and his followers, and that man assuredly was I. +Yet there I crouched above, behind the velvet curtains where none might see me, +whilst he stood smiling and toying with his brown beard and listening to the +fine words of praise that, I could imagine, were falling from the lips of +Madonna Paola, who had drawn near and was speaking to him. +</p> + +<p> +There is in my nature a certain love of effectiveness, a certain taste for +theatrical parade and the contriving of odd situations. This bent of mine was +whispering to me then to throw wide the window, and, stemming their noisy +plaudits, announce to them the truth of what had passed. Yet what if I had done +so? They would have accounted it but a new jest of Boccadoro, the Fool, and one +so ill-conceived that they might urge the Lord Giovanni to have him whipped for +it. +</p> + +<p> +Aye, it would have been a folly, a futile act that would have earned me +unbelief, contempt and anger. And yet there was a moment when jealousy urged me +almost headlong to that rashness. For in Madonna Paola’s eyes there was a +new expression as they rested on the face of Giovanni Sforza—an +expression that told me she had come to love this man whom a little while ago +she had despised. +</p> + +<p> +God! was there ever such an irony? Was there ever such a paradox? She loved +him, and yet it was not him she loved. The man she loved was the man who had +shown the qualities of his mind in the verses with which the Court was ringing; +the man who had that morning given proof of his high mettle and knightly +prowess by the deeds of arms he had performed. I was that man—not he at +whom so adoringly she looked. And so—I argued, in my warped way and with +the philosophy worthy of a Fool—it was I whom she loved, and Giovanni was +but the symbol that stood for me. He represented the songs and the deeds that +were mine. +</p> + +<p> +But if I did not throw wide that window and proclaim the fact to ears that +would have been deaf to the truth of them, what think you that I did? I took a +subtler vengeance. I repaired to my own chamber, procured me pen and ink, and, +there, with a heart that was brimming over with gall, I penned an epic modelled +upon the stately lines of Virgil, wherein I sang the prowess of the Lord +Giovanni Sforza, describing that morning’s mighty feat of arms, and +detailing each particular of the combat ’twixt Giovanni and Ramiro +del’ Orca. +</p> + +<p> +It was a brave thing when it was done; a finer and worthier poetical +achievement than any that I had yet encompassed, and that night, after they had +supped, as merrily as though Duke Valentino had never been heard of, and whilst +they were still sitting at their wine, I got me a lute and stole down to the +banqueting hall. +</p> + +<p> +I announced myself by leaping on a table and loudly twanging the strings of my +instrument. There was a hush, succeeded by a burst of acclamation. They were in +a high good-humour, and the Fool with a new song was the very thing they +craved. +</p> + +<p> +When silence was restored I began, and whilst my fingers moved sluggishly +across the strings, striking here and there a chord, I recited the epic I had +penned. My voice swelled with a feverish enthusiasm whose colossal irony none +there save one could guess. He, at first surprised, grew angry presently, as I +could see by the cloud that had settled on his brow. Yet he restrained himself, +and the rest of the company were too enthralled by the breathless quality of my +poem to bestow their glances on any countenance save mine. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna Paola sat upon the Lord of Pesaro’s right, and her blue eyes were +round and her lips parted with enthusiasm as I proceeded. And when presently I +came to that point in the fight betwixt Giovanni and Ramiro del’ Orca, +when Ramiro, having broken down the Lord Giovanni’s visor, was on the +point of driving his sword into his adversary’s face, I saw her shrink in +a repetition of the morning’s alarm, and her bosom heaved more swiftly, +as though the issue of that combat hung now upon my lines and she were made +anxious again for the life of the man whom she had learnt to love. +</p> + +<p> +I finished on a slow and stately rhythm, my voice rising and falling softly, +after the manner of a Gregorian chant, as I dwelt on the piety that had +succeeded the Lord of Pesaro’s brave exploits, and how upon his return +from the stricken field he had repaired straight to his closet, his battered +and bloody harness on his back, that he might kneel ere he disarmed and render +thanks to God for the victory vouchsafed him. +</p> + +<p> +On that “Te Deum” I finished softly, and as my voice ceased and the +vibration of my last chord melted away, a thunder of applause was my reward. +</p> + +<p> +Men leapt from their chairs in their enthusiasm, and crowded round the table on +which I was perched, whilst, when presently I sprang down, one noble woman +kissed me on the lips before them all, saying that my mouth was indeed a mouth +of gold. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna Paola was leaning towards the Lord Giovanni, her eyes shining with +excitement and filmed with tears as they proudly met his glance, and I knew +that my song had but served to endear him the more to her by causing her to +realise more keenly the brave qualities of the adventure that I sang. The sight +of it almost turned me faint, and I would have eluded them and got away as I +had come but that they lifted me up and bore me so to the table at which the +Lord Giovanni sat. He smiled, but his face was very pale. Could it be that I +had touched him? Could it be that I had driven the iron into his soul, and that +he could not bear to confront me, knowing what a dastard I must deem him? +</p> + +<p> +The splendid Filippo of Santafior had risen to his feet, and was waving a +white, bejewelled hand in an imperious demand for silence. When at last it came +he spoke, his voice silvery and his accents mincing. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord of Pesaro; I demand a boon. He who for years has suffered the +ignominy of the motley is at last revealed to us as a poet of such magnitude of +soul and richness of expression that he would not suffer by comparison with the +great Bojardo or tim greater Virgil. Let him be stripped for ever of that +hideous garb he wears, and let him be treated, hereafter, with the dignity his +high gifts deserve. Thus shall the day come when Pesaro will take honour in +calling him her son.” +</p> + +<p> +Loud and long was the applause that succeeded his words, and when at last it +had died down, the Lord Giovanni proved equal to the occasion, like the +consummate actor that he was. +</p> + +<p> +“I would,” said he, “that these high gifts, of which to-night +he has afforded proof, could have been employed upon a worthier subject. I fear +me that since you have heard his epic you will be prone to overestimate the +deed of which it tells the story. I would, too, my friends,” he +continued, with a sigh, “that it were still mine to offer him such +encouragement as he deserves. But I am sorely afraid that my days in Pesaro are +numbered, that my sands are all but run—at least, for a little while. The +conqueror is at our gates, and it would be vain to set against the overwhelming +force of his numbers the handful of valiant knights and brave soldiers that +to-day opposed and scattered his forerunners. It is my intention to withdraw, +now that my honour is safe by what has passed, and that none will dare to say +that it was through fear that I fled. Yet my absence, I trust, may be but +brief. I go to collect the necessary resources, for I have powerful friends in +this Italy whose interests touching the Duca Valentino go hand in hand with +mine, and who will, thus, be the readier to lend me assistance. Once I have +this, I shall return and then—woe to the vanquished!” +</p> + +<p> +The tide of enthusiasm that had been rising as he spoke, now overflowed. Swords +leapt from their scabbards—mere toy weapons were they, meant more for +ornament than offence, yet were they the earnest of the stouter arms those +gentlemen were ready to wield when the time came. He quieted their clamours +with a dignified wave of the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“When that day comes I shall see to it that Boccadoro has his deserts. +Meanwhile let the suggestion of my illustrious cousin be acted upon, and let +this gifted poet be arrayed in a manner that shall sort better with the +nobility of his mind that to-night he has revealed to us.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus was it that I came, at last, to shed the motley and move among men garbed +as themselves. And with my outward trappings I cast off, too, the name of +Boccadoro, and I insisted upon being known again as Lazzaro Biancomonte. +</p> + +<p> +But in so far as the Court of Pesaro was concerned, this new life upon which I +was embarked was of little moment, for on the Tuesday that followed that first +Sunday in October of such momentous memory, the Lord Giovanni’s Court +passed out of being. +</p> + +<p> +It came about with his flight to Bologna, accompanied by the Albanian captain +and his men, as well as by several of the knights who had joined in +Sunday’s fray. Ardently, as I came afterwards to learn, did he urge +Madonna Paola and her brother to go with them, and I believe that the lady +would have done his will in this had not the Lord Filippo opposed the step. He +was no warrior himself, he swore—for it was a thing he made open boast +of, affecting to despise all who followed the coarse trade of arms—and, +as for his sister, it was not fitting that she should go with a fugitive party +made up of a handful of knights and some fifty rough mercenaries, and be +exposed to the hardships and perils that must be theirs. Not even when he was +reminded that the advancing conqueror was Cesare Borgia did it affect him, for +despite his shallow, mincing ways, and his paraded scorn of war and warriors, +the Lord Filippo was stout enough at heart. He did not fear the Borgia, he +answered serenely, and if he came, he would offer him such hospitality as lay +within his power. +</p> + +<p> +He came at last, did the mighty Cesare, although between his coming and +Giovanni’s flight a full fortnight sped. As for myself, I spent the time +at the Sforza Palace, whither the Lord Filippo had carried me as his guest, he +being greatly taken with me and determined to become my patron. We had news of +Giovanni, first from Bologna and later from Ravenna, whither he was fled. At +first he talked of returning to Pesaro with three hundred men he hoped to have +from the Marquis of Mantua. But probably this was no more than another piece of +that big talk of his, meant to impress the sorrowing and repining Madonna +Paola, who suffered more for him, maybe, than he suffered himself. +</p> + +<p> +She would talk with me for hours together of the Lord Giovanni, of his mental +gifts, and of his splendid courage and military address, and for all that my +gorge rose with jealousy and with the force of this injustice to myself, I held +my peace. Indeed, indeed, it was better so. For all that I was no longer +Boccadoro the Fool, yet as Lazzaro Biancomonte, the poet, I was not so much +better that I could indulge any mad aspirations of my own such as might have +led me to betray the dastard who had arrayed his craven self in the peacock +feathers of my achievements. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the confidence with which the Lord Filippo honoured me I made +bold, on the eve of Cesare’s arrival, to suggest to him that he should +remove his sister from the Palace and send her to the Convent of Santa Caterina +whilst the Borgia abode in the town, lest the sight of her should remind Cesare +of the old-time marriage plans which his family had centred round this lady, +and lead to their revival. Filippo heard me kindly, and thanked me freely for +the solicitude which my counsel argued. For the rest, however, it was a counsel +that he frankly admitted he saw no need to follow. +</p> + +<p> +“In the three years that are sped since the Holy Father entertained such +plans for the temporal advancement of his nephew Ignacio, the fortunes of the +House of Borgia have so swollen that what was then a desirable match for one of +its members is now scarcely worthy of their attention. I do not think,” +he concluded, “that we have the least reason to fear a renewal of that +suit.” +</p> + +<p> +It may be that I am by nature suspicious and quick to see ignoble motives in +men’s actions, but it occurred to me then that the Lord Filippo would not +be so greatly put about if indeed the Borgias were to reopen negotiations for +the bestowing of Madonna Paola’s hand upon the Pope’s nephew +Ignacio. That swelling of the Borgia fortunes which in the three years had +taken place and which, he contended, would render them more ambitious than to +seek alliance with the House of Santafior, rendered them, nevertheless, in his +eyes a more desirable family to be allied with than in the days when he had +counselled his sister’s flight from Rome. And so, I thought, despite what +stood between her and the Lord Giovanni, Filippo would know no scruple now in +urging her into an alliance with the House of Borgia, should they manifest a +willingness to have that old affair reopened. +</p> + +<p> +On the 29th of that same month of October, Cesare arrived in Pesaro. His entry +was a triumphant procession, and the orderliness that prevailed among the two +thousand men-at-arms that he brought with him was a thing that spoke eloquently +for the wondrous discipline enforced by this great condottiero. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Filippo was among those that met him, and like the time-server that he +was, he placed the Sforza Palace at his disposal. +</p> + +<p> +The Duca Valentino came with his retinue and the gentlemen of his household, +among whom was ever conspicuous by his great size and red ugliness the Captain +Ramiro del’ Orca, who now seemed to act in many ways as Cesare’s +factotum. This captain, for reasons which it is unnecessary to detail, I most +sedulously avoided. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of his arrival Cesare supped in private with Filippo and the +members of Filippo’s household—that is to say, with Madonna Paola +and two of her ladies, and three gentlemen attached to the person of the Lord +Filippo. Cesare’s only attendants were two cavaliers of his retinue, +Bartolomeo da Capranica, his Field-Marshal, and Dorio Savelli, a nobleman of +Rome. +</p> + +<p> +Cesare Borgia, this man whose name had so terrible a sound in the ears of +Italy’s little princelings, this man whose power and whose great gifts of +mind had made him the subject of such bitter envy and fear, until he was the +best-hated gentleman in Italy—and, therefore, the most +calumniated—was little changed from that Cardinal of Valencia, in whose +service I had been for a brief season. The pallor of his face was accentuated +by the ill-health in which he found himself just then, and the air of feverish +restlessness that had always pervaded him was grown more marked in the years +that were sped, as was, after all, but natural, considering the nature of the +work that had claimed him since he had deposed his priestly vestments. He was +splendidly arrayed, and he bore himself with an imperial dignity, a dignity, +nevertheless, tempered with graciousness and charm, and as I regarded him then, +it was borne in upon me that no fitter name could his godfathers have bestowed +on him than that of Cesare. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Filippo exerted all his powers worthily to entertain his noble and +illustrious guest, and by his extreme, almost servile affability it not only +would seem that he had forgotten the favour and shelter he had received at the +hands of the Lord Giovanni, but it confirmed my suspicions of his willingness +to advance his own fortunes by breaking with the fallen tyrant in so far as his +sister was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +Short of actually making the proposal itself, it would seem that Filippo did +all in his power to urge his sister upon the attention of Cesare. But Duke +Valentino’s mind at that time was too full of the concerns of conquest +and administration to find room for a matter to him so trifling as the +enriching of his cousin Ignacio by a wealthy alliance. To this alone, I +thought, was it due that Madonna Paola escaped the persecution that might then +have been hers. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow Cesare moved on to Rimini, leaving his administrators behind him +to set right the affairs of Pesaro, and ensure its proper governing, in his +name, hereafter. +</p> + +<p> +And now that, for the present, my hopes of ever seeing my own wrongs redressed +and my estates returned to me were too slender to justify my remaining longer +in Pesaro, I craved of the Lord Filippo permission to withdraw, telling him +frankly that my tardily aroused duty called me to my widowed mother, whom for +some six years I had not seen. He threw no difficulty in the way of my going; +and I was free to depart. And now came the hidden pain of my leave-taking of +Madonna Paola. She seemed to grieve at my departure. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” she cried, when I had told her of my intention, +“do you, too, desert me? And I have ever held you my best of +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +I told her of the mother and of the duty that I owed her, whereupon she +remonstrated no more, nor sought to do other than urge me to go to her. And +then I spoke of Madonna’s kindness to me, and of the friendship with +which she had honoured one so lowly, and in the end I swore, with my hand on my +heart and my soul on my lips, that if ever she had work for me, she would not +need to call me twice. +</p> + +<p> +“This ring, Madonna,” said I, “was given me by the Lord +Cesare Borgia, and was to have proved a talisman to open wide for me the door +to fortune. It did better service than that, Madonna. It was the talisman that +saved you from your pursuers that day at Cagli, three years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“You remind me, Lazzaro,” she cried, “of how much you have +sacrificed in my service. Yours must be a very noble nature that will do so +much to serve a helpless lady without any hope of guerdon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay,” I answered lightly, “you must not make so much of +it. It would never have sorted with my inclinations to have turned man-at-arms. +This ring, Madonna, that once has served you, I beg that you will keep, for it +may serve you again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could not, Lazzaro! I could not!” she exclaimed, recoiling, yet +without any show of deeming presumptuous my words or of being offended by them. +</p> + +<p> +“If you would make me the reward that you say I have earned, you will do +this for me. It will make me happier, Madonna. Take it”—I thrust it +into her unwilling hand—“and if ever you should need me send it +back to me. That ring and the name of the place where you abide by the lips of +the messenger you choose, and with a glad heart, as fast as horse can bear me, +shall I ride to serve you once again.” +</p> + +<p> +“In such a spirit, yes,” said she. “I take it willingly, to +treasure it as a buckler against danger, since by means of it I can bring you +to my aid in time of peril.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, do not overestimate my powers,” I besought her. “I +would have you see in me no more than I am. But it sometimes happens that the +mouse may aid the lion.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when I need the lion to aid the mouse, my good Lazzaro, I will send +for you.” +</p> + +<p> +There were tears in her voice, and her eyes were very bright. +</p> + +<p> +“Addio, Lazzaro,” she murmured brokenly. “May God and His +saints protect you. I will pray for you, and I shall hope to see you again some +day, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Addio, Madonna!” was all that I could trust myself to say ere I +fled from her presence that she might not see my deep emotion, nor hear the +sobs that were threatening to betray the anguish that was ravaging my soul. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"></a> +PART II.<br /> +THE OGRE OF CESENA</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI.<br /> +MADONNA’S SUMMONS</h2> + +<p> +However great the part that my mother—sainted woman that she +was—may have played in my life, she nowise enters into the affairs of +this chronicle, so that it would be an irrelevance and an impertinence to +introduce her into these pages. Of the joy with which she welcomed me to the +little home near Biancomonte, in which the earnings of Boccadoro the Fool had +placed her, it could interest you but little to read in detail, nor could it +interest you to know of the gentle patience with which she cheered and humoured +me during the period that I sojourned there, tilling the little plot she owned, +reaping and garnering like any born villano. With a woman’s quick +intuition she guessed perhaps the canker that was eating at my heart, and with +a mother’s blessed charity she sought to soothe and mitigate my pain. +</p> + +<p> +It was during this period of my existence that the poetic gifts I had +discovered myself possessed of whilst at Pesaro, burst into full bloom; and not +a little relief did I find in the penning of those love-songs—the true +expression of what was in my heart—which have since been given to the +world under the title of Le Rime di Boccadoro. And what time I tended my +mother’s land by day, and wrote by night of the feverish, despairing love +that was consuming me, I waited for the call that, sooner or later, I knew must +come. What prophetic instinct it was had rooted that certainty in my heart I do +not pretend to say. Perhaps my hope was of such a strength that it assumed the +form of certainty to solace the period of my hermitage. But that some day +Madonna Paola’s messenger would arrive bringing me the Borgia ring, I was +as confident as that some day I must die. +</p> + +<p> +Two years went by, and we were in the Autumn of 1502, yet my faith knew no +abating, my confidence was strong as ever. And, at last, that confidence was +justified. One night of early October, as I sat at supper with my mother after +the labours of the day, a sound of hoofs disturbed the peace of the silent +night. It drew rapidly nearer, and long before the knock fell upon our door, I +knew that it was the messenger from my lady. +</p> + +<p> +My mother looked at me across the board, an expression of alarm overspreading +her old face. “Who,” her eyes seemed to ask me, “was this +horseman that rode so late?” +</p> + +<p> +My hound rose from the hearth with a growl, and stood bristling, his eyes upon +the door. White-haired old Silvio, the last remaining retainer of the House of +Biancomonte, came forth from the kitchen, with inquiry and fear blending on his +wrinkled, weather-beaten countenance. +</p> + +<p> +And I, seeing all these signs of alarm, yet knowing what awaited me on the +threshold, rose with a laugh, and in a bound had crossed the intervening space. +I flung wide the door, and from the gloom without a man’s voice greeted +me with a question. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the house of Messer Lazzaro Biancomonte?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am that Lazzaro Biancomonte,” answered I. “What may your +pleasure be?” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger advanced until he came within the light. He was plainly dressed, +and wore a jerkin of leather and long boots. From his air I judged him a +servant or a courier. He doffed his hat respectfully, and held out his right +hand in which something was gleaming yellow. It was the Borgia ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Pesaro,” was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +I took the ring and thanked him, then bade him enter and refresh himself ere he +returned, and I called old Silvio to bring wine. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not returning,” the man informed me. “I am a courier +riding to Parma, whom Madonna charged with that message to you in +passing.” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless he consented to rest him awhile and sip the wine we set before +him, and what time he did so I engaged him in talk, and led him to tell me what +he knew of the trend of things at Pesaro, and what news there was of the Lord +Giovanni. He had little enough to tell. Pesaro was flourishing and prospering +under the Borgia dominion. Of the Lord Giovanni there was little news, saving +that he was living under the protection of the Gonzagas in Mantua, and that so +long as he was content to abide there the Borgias seemed disposed to give him +peace. +</p> + +<p> +Next I made him tell me what he knew of Filippo di Santafior and Madonna Paola. +On this subject he was better informed. Madonna Paola was well and still lived +with her brother at the Palace of Pesaro. The Lord Filippo was high in favour +with the Borgias, and Cesare lately had been frequently his guest at Pesaro, +whilst once, for a few days, the Lord Ignacio de Borgia had accompanied his +illustrious cousin. +</p> + +<p> +I flushed and paled at that piece of news, and the reason of her summons no +longer asked conjecture. It was an easy thing for me, knowing what I knew, to +fill in the details which the courier omitted in ignorance from the story. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Filippo, seeking his own advancement, had so urged his sister upon the +notice of the Borgia family—perhaps even approached Cesare—in such +a manner that it was again become a question of wedding her to Ignacio, who +had, meanwhile, remained unmarried. I could read that opportunist’s +motives as easily as if he had written them down for my instruction. Giovanni +Sforza he accounted lost beyond redemption, and I could imagine how he had +plied his wits to aid his sister to forget him, or else to remember him no +longer with affection. Whether he had succeeded or not I could not say until I +had seen her; but meanwhile, deeming ripe the soil of her heart for the new +attachment that should redound so much to his own credit—now that the +House of Borgia had risen to such splendid heights—he was driving her +into this alliance with Ignacio. +</p> + +<p> +Faithful to the very letter of the promise I had made her, I set out that same +night, after embracing my poor, tearful mother, and promising to return as soon +as might be. All night I rode, my soul now tortured with anxiety, now exalted +at the supreme joy of seeing Madonna, which was so soon to be mine. I was at +the gates of Pesaro before matins, and within the Palazzo Sforza ere its +inmates had broken their fast. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Filippo welcomed me with a certain effusion, chiding me for my long +absence and the ingratitude it had seemed to indicate, and never dreaming by +what summons I was brought back. +</p> + +<p> +“You are well-returned,” he told me in conclusion. “We shall +need you soon, to write an epithalamium.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are to be wed, Magnificent?” quoth I at last, at which he +laughed consumedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, we shall need the song for my sister’s nuptials. She is to +wed the Lord Ignacio Borgia, before Christmas.” +</p> + +<p> +“A lofty theme,” I answered with humility, “and one that may +well demand resources nobler than those of my poor pen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then get you to work at once upon it. I will have your chamber +prepared.” +</p> + +<p> +He sent for his seneschal, a person—like most Of the servants at the +Palace—strange to me, and he gave orders that I should be sumptuously +lodged. He was grown more splendid than ever in the prosperity that seemed to +surround him here at Pesaro, in this Palace that had undergone such changes and +been so enriched during the past two years as to go near defying recognition. +</p> + +<p> +When the seneschal had shown me to the quarters he had set apart for me, I made +bold to make inquiries concerning Madonna Paola. +</p> + +<p> +“She is in the garden, Illustrious,” answered the seneschal, +deeming me, no doubt, a great lord, from the respect which Filippo had +indicated should be shown me. “Madonna has the wisdom to seek the little +sunshine the year still holds. Winter will be soon upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +I agreed with the old man, and dismissed him. So soon as he was gone, I quitted +my chamber, and all dust staineded as I was I made my way down to the garden. A +turn in one of the boxwood-bordered alleys brought me suddenly face to face +with Madonna Paola. +</p> + +<p> +A moment we stood looking at each other, my heart swelling within me until I +thought that it must burst. Then I advanced a step and sank on one knee before +her. +</p> + +<p> +“You sent for me, Madonna. I am here.” There was a pause, and when +presently I looked up into her blessed face I saw a smile of infinite sorrow on +her lips, blending oddly with the gladness that shone from her sweet eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You faithful one,” she murmured at last. “Dear Lazzaro, I +did not look for you so soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Within an hour of your messenger’s arrival I was in the saddle, +nor did I pause until I had reached the gates of Pesaro. I am here to serve you +to the utmost of my power, Madonna, and the only doubt that assails me is that +my power may be all too small for the service that you need.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is its nature known to you?” she asked in wonder. Then, ere I had +answered, she bade me rise, and with her own hand assisted me. +</p> + +<p> +“I have guessed it,” answered I, “guided by such scraps of +information as from your messenger I gleaned. It concerns, unless I err, the +Lord Ignacio Borgia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your wits have lost nothing of their quickness,” she said, with a +sad smile, “and I doubt me you know all.” +</p> + +<p> +“The only thing I did not know your brother has just told me—that +you are to be wed before Christmas. He has ordered me to write your +epithalamium.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew into step beside me, and we slowly paced the alley side by side, and, +as we went, withered leaves overhead, and withered leaves to make a carpet for +our fret, she told me in her own way more or less what I have set down, even to +her brother’s self-seeking share in the transaction that she dubbed +hideous and abhorrent. +</p> + +<p> +She was little changed, this winsome lady in the time that was sped. She was in +her twenty-first year, but in reality she seemed to me no older than she had +been on that day when first I saw her arguing with her grooms upon the road to +Cagli. And from this I reassured myself that she had not been fretted overmuch +by the absence of the Lord Giovanni. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she spoke of him and of her plighted word which her brother and those +supple gentlemen of the House of Borgia were inducing her to dishonour. +</p> + +<p> +“Once before, in a case almost identical, when all seemed lost, you +came—as if Heaven directed—to my rescue. This it is that gives me +confidence in such aid as you might lend me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! Madonna,” I sighed, “but the times are sorely changed +and the situations with them. What is there now that I can do?” +</p> + +<p> +“What you did then. Take me beyond their reach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! But whither?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither but to the Lord Giovanni? Is it not to him that my troth is +plighted?” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head in sorrow, a thrust of jealousy cutting me the while. +</p> + +<p> +“That may not be,” said I. “It were not seemly, unless the +Lord Giovanni were here himself to take you hence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will write to the Lord Giovanni,” she cried. “I will +write, and you shall bear my letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“What think you will the Lord Giovanni do?” I burst out, with a +scorn that must have puzzled her. “Think you his safety does not give him +care enough in the hiding-place to which he has crept, that he should draw upon +himself the vengeance of the Borgias?” +</p> + +<p> +She stared at me in ineffable surprise. “But the Lord Giovanni is brave +and valiant,” she cried, and down in my heart I laughed in bitter +mockery. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you love the Lord Giovanni, Madonna?” I asked bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +My question seemed to awaken fresh astonishment. It may well be that it +awakened, too, reflection. She was silent for a little space. Then— +</p> + +<p> +“I honour and respect him for a noble, chivalrous and gifted +gentleman,” she answered me, and her answer made me singularly content, +spreading a balm upon the wounds my soul had taken. But to her fresh +intercessions that I should carry a letter to him, I shook my head again. My +mood was stubborn. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, Madonna, it were not only unwise, but futile.” +</p> + +<p> +She protested. +</p> + +<p> +“I swear it would be,” I insisted, with a convincing force that +left her staring at me and wondering whence I derived so much assurance. +“We must wait. From now till Christmas we have more than two months. In +two months much may befall. As a last resource we may consider communication +with the Lord Giovanni. But it is a forlorn hope, Madonna, and so we will leave +it until all else has failed us.” +</p> + +<p> +She brightened at my promise that at least if other measures proved unavailing, +we should adopt that course, and her brightening flattered me, for it bore +witness to the supreme confidence she had in me. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” said she, “I know you will not fail me. I trust +you more than any living mam; more, I think, than even the Lord Giovanni, whom, +if God pleases, I shall some day wed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Madonna mia,” I answered, gratefully indeed. “It is +a trust that I shall ever strive to justify. Meanwhile have faith and hope, and +wait.” +</p> + +<p> +Once before, when, to escape the schemes of her brother who would have wed her +to the Lord Giovanni, she had appealed to me, the counsel I had given her had +been much the same as that which I gave her now. At the irony of it I could +have laughed had any other been in question but Madonna Paola—this tender +White Flower of the Quince that was like to be rudely wilted by the ruthless +hands of scheming men. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII.<br /> +THE GOVERNOR OF CESENA</h2> + +<p> +That night I would have supped in my own quarters but that Filippo sent for me +and bade me join him and swell the little court he kept. At times I believe he +almost thought that he was the true Lord of Pesaro—an opinion that may +have been shared by not a few of the citizens themselves. Certainly he kept a +greater state and was better housed than the duke of Valentinois’ +governor. +</p> + +<p> +It was a jovial company of perhaps a dozen nobles and ladies that met about his +board, and Filippo bade his servants lay for me beside him. As we ate he +questioned me touching the occupation that I had found during my absence from +Pesaro. I used the greatest frankness with him, and answered that my life had +been partly a peasants, partly a poet’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what you wrote,” he bade me his eyes resting on my face +with a new look of interest, for his love of letters was one of the few things +about him that was not affected. +</p> + +<p> +“A few novelle, dealing with court-life; but chiefly verses,” +answered I. +</p> + +<p> +“And with these verses—what have you done?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have them by me, Illustrious,” I answered. He smiled, seemingly +well pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“You must read them to us,” he cried. “If they rival that +epic of yours, which I have never forgotten, they should be worth +hearing.” +</p> + +<p> +And presently, supper being done, I went at his bidding to my chamber for my +precious manuscripts, and, returning, I entertained the company with the +reading of a portion of what I had written. They heard me with an attention +that might have rendered me vain had my ambition really lain in being accounted +a great writer; and when I paused, now and again, there was a murmur of +applause, and many a pat on the shoulder from Filippo whenever a line, a phrase +or a stanza took his fancy. +</p> + +<p> +I was perhaps too absorbed to pay any great attention to the impression my +verses were producing, but presently, in one of my pauses, the Lord Filippo +startled me with words that awoke me to a sense of my imprudence. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, Lazzaro, of what your lines remind me in an extraordinary +measure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what, Excellency?” I asked politely, raising my eyes from my +manuscript. They chanced to meet the glance of Madonna Paola. It was riveted +upon me, and its expression was one I could not understand. +</p> + +<p> +“Of the love-songs of the Lord Giovanni Sforza,” answered he. +“They resemble those poems infinitely more than they resemble the epic +you wrote two years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +I stammered something about the similarity being merely one of subject. But he +shook his head at that, and took good note of my confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said he, “the resemblance goes deeper. There is the +same facile beauty of the rhymes the same freshness of the +rhythm—remotely resembling that of Petrarca, yet very different. Conceits +similar to those that were the beauty spots of the Lord Giovanni’s verses +are ubiquitous in yours, and above all there is the same fervent earnestness, +the same burning tone of sincerity that rendered his strambotti so worthy of +admiration.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be,” I answered him, my confusion growing under the steady +gaze of Madonna Paola, “it may be that having heard the verses of the +Lord Giovanni, I may, unconsciously, have modelled my own lines upon those that +made so deep an impression on me.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me gravely for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“That might be an explanation,” he answered deliberately, +“but frankly, if I were asked, I should give a very different one.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that would be?” came, sharp and compelling, the voice of +Madonna. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to her, shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “Why, since you ask +me,” he said, “I should hazard the opinion that Lazzaro, here, was +of considerable assistance to the Lord Giovanni in the penning of those verses +with which he delighted us all—and you, Madonna, I believe, +particularly.” +</p> + +<p> +Madonna Paola crimsoned, and her eyes fell. The others looked at us with +inquiring glances—at her, at Filippo and at me. With a fresh laugh +Filippo turned to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Confess now, am I not right?” he asked good-humouredly. +</p> + +<p> +“Magnificent,” I murmured in tones of protest, “ask yourself +the question. Was it a likely thing that the Lord Giovanni would enlist the +services of his jester in such a task?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me a straightforward answer,” he insisted. “Am I right +or wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am giving you more than a straightforward answer, my lord,” I +still evaded him, and more boldly now. “I am setting you on the high-road +to solve the matter for yourself by an appeal to your own good sense and +reason. Was it in the least likely, I repeat, that the Lord Giovanni would seek +the services of his Fool to aid him write the verses in honour of the lady of +his heart?” +</p> + +<p> +With a burst of mocking laughter, Filippo smote the table a blow of his +clenched hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Your prevarications answer me,” he cried. “You will not say +that I am wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I do say that you are wrong!” I exclaimed, suddenly inspired. +“I did not assist the Lord Giovanni with his verses. I swear it.” +</p> + +<p> +His laughter faded; and his eyes surveyed me with a sudden solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you evade my question?” he demanded shrewdly. And +then his countenance changed as swiftly again. It was illumined by the light of +sudden understanding. “I have it,” he cried. “The answer is +plain. You did not assist the Lord Giovanni to write them. Why? Because you +wrote them yourself, and you gave them to him that he might pass them off as +his own.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a merciful thing for me that the whole company fell into a burst of +laughter and applauded Filippo’s quick discernment, which they never +doubted. All talked at once, and a hundred proofs were advanced in support of +Filippo’s opinion. The Lord Giovanni’s celebrated dullness of mind, +amounting almost to stupidity, was cited, and they reminded one another of the +profound astonishment with which they had listened to the compositions that had +suddenly burst from him. +</p> + +<p> +Filippo turned to his sister, on whose pale face I saw it written that she was +as convinced as any there, and my feelings were those of a dastard who has +broken faith with the man who trusted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you appreciate now, Madonna,” he murmured, “the deceits +and wiles by which that craven crept like a snake into your esteem?” +</p> + +<p> +I guessed at once that by that thrust he sought to incline her more to the +union he had in view for her. +</p> + +<p> +“At least he was no craven,” answered she. “His burning +desire to please me may have betrayed him into this foolish duplicity. But he +still must live in my memory as a brave and gallant gentleman; or have you +forgotten, Filippo, that noble combat with the forces of Ramiro del’ +Orca?” +</p> + +<p> +To such a question Filippo had no answer, and presently his mood sobered a +little. For myself, I was glad when the time came to withdraw from that company +that twitted and pestered me and played upon my sense of shame at the +imprudence I had committed. +</p> + +<p> +Now that I look back, I can scarce conceive why it should have so wrought upon +me; for, in truth, the little love I bore the Lord Giovanni might rather have +led me to rejoice that his imposture should be laid bare to the eyes of all the +world. I think that really there was an element of fear in my +feelings—fear that, upon reflection, Madonna Paola might ask herself how +came that burning sincerity into the love-songs written in her honour which it +was now disclosed that I had penned. The answer she might find to such a +question was one that might arouse her pride and so outrage it as to lead her +to cast me out of her friendship and never again suffer me to approach her. +</p> + +<p> +Such a conclusion, however, she fortunately did not arrive at. Haply she +accounted the fervour of those lines assumed, for when on the morrow she met +me, she did no more than gently chide me for the deceit that I had had a hand +in practising upon her. She accepted my explanation that my share in that +affair had been wrung from me with threats of torture, and putting it from her +mind she returned to the matter of the approaching alliance she sought to +elude, renewing her prayers that I should aid her. +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” she told me then, “one other friend who might +assist us, and who has the power perhaps if he but has the will. He is the +Governor of Cesena, and for all that he holds service under Cesare Borgia, yet +he seems much devoted to me, and I do not doubt that to further my interests he +would even consent to pit his wits against those of the family he +serves.” +</p> + +<p> +“In which case, Madonna,” answered I, spurred to it, perhaps, by an +insensate pang of jealousy at the thought that there should be another beside +myself to have her confidence, “he would be a traitor. And it is ever an +ill thing to trust a traitor. Who once betrays may betray again.” +</p> + +<p> +That she manifested no resentment, but, on the contrary, readily agreed with +me, showed me how idle had been that jealousy of mine, and made me ashamed of +it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why yes,” she mused, “it is the very thought that had +occurred to me, and caused me to spurn the aid he proffered when last he was +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” I cried. “What aid was that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must know, Lazzaro,” said she, “that he comes often to +Pesaro from Cesena, being a man in whom the Duke places great trust, and on +whom he has bestowed considerable powers. He never fails to lie at the Palace +when he comes, and he seems to—to have conceived a regard for me. He is a +man of twice my years,” she added hurriedly, “and haply looks upon +me as he might upon a daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +I sniffed the air. I had heard of such men. +</p> + +<p> +“A week ago, when last he came, I was cast down and grieved by the affair +of this marriage, which Filippo had that day disclosed to me. The Governor of +Cesena, observing my sadness, sought my confidence with a kindliness of which +you would scarce believe him capable; for he is a fierce and blustering man of +war. In the fulness of my heart there was nothing that seemed so desirable as a +friendly ear into which I might pour the tale of my affliction. He heard me +gravely, and when I had done he placed himself at my disposal, assuring me that +if I would but trust myself to him, he would defeat the ends of the House of +Borgia. Not until then did I seem to bethink me that he was the servant of that +house, and his readiness to betray the hand that paid him sowed mistrust and a +certain loathing of him in my mind. I let him see it, perhaps, which was +unwise, and, may be, even ungrateful. He seemed deeply wounded, and the subject +was abandoned. But I have since thought that perhaps I acted with a rashness +that was—” +</p> + +<p> +“With a rashness that was eminently justifiable,” I interrupted +her. “You could not have been better advised than to have mistrusted such +a man.” +</p> + +<p> +But touching this same Governor of Cesena, there was a fine surprise in store +for me. At dusk some two days later there was a sudden commotion in the +courtyard of the Palace, and when I inquired of a groom into its cause, I was +informed that his Excellency the Governor of Cesena had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Curious to see this man whose willingness to betray the house he served, where +Madonna was concerned, was by no means difficult to probe, I descended to the +banqueting-hall at supper time. +</p> + +<p> +They were not yet at table when I entered, and a group was gathered in the +centre of the room about a huge man, at sight of whose red head and crimson, +brutal face I would have turned and sought again the refuge of my own quarters +but that his wolf’s eye had already fastened on me. +</p> + +<p> +“Body of God!” he swore, and that was all. But his eyes were on me +in a marvellous stare, as were now—impelled by that oath of his—the +eyes of all the company. We looked at each other for a moment, then a great +laugh burst from him, shaking his vast bulk and wrinkling his hideous face. He +thrust the intervening men aside as if they had been a growth of sedges he +would penetrate, and he advanced towards me; the Lord Filippo and his sister +looking on with all the rest in interested surprise. +</p> + +<p> +In front of me he halted, and setting his hands on his hips he regarded me with +a brutal mirth. +</p> + +<p> +“What may your trade be now?” he asked at last contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +I had taken rapid stock of him in the seconds that were sped, and from the +surpassing richness of his apparel, his gold-broidered doublet and crimson, +fur-edged surcoat, I knew that Messer Ramiro del’ Orca was grown to the +high estate of Governor of Cesena. +</p> + +<p> +“A new trade even as yours,” I answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, that is no answer,” he cried, overlooking my offensiveness. +“Do you still follow the trade of arms?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” Filippo interposed, “that our Excellency is in +some error. This gentleman is Lazzaro Biancomonte, a poet of whom Italy will +one day be proud, despite the fact that for a time he acted as the Lord +Giovanni Sforza’s Fool.” +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro looked at his interlocutor, as the mastiff may look at the lap dog. He +grunted, and blew out his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“There is yet another part he played,” said he, “as I have +good cause to remember—for he is the only man that can boast of having +unhorsed Ramiro del’ Orca. He was for a brief season the Lord Giovanni +Sforza himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” asked the profoundly amazed Filippo, whilst all present +pressed closer to miss nothing of the disclosure that seemed to impend. Myself, +I groaned. There was naught that I could say to stem the tide of revelation +that was coming. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you then keep this paladin here arrayed like a clerk?” quoth +Ramiro in his sardonic way. “And can it be that the secret of his feat of +arms has been guarded so well that you are still in ignorance of it?” +</p> + +<p> +Filippo’s wits worked swiftly, and swiftly they pieced together the hints +that Ramiro had let fall. +</p> + +<p> +“You will tell us,” said he, “that the fight in the streets +of Pesaro, in which your Excellency’s party suffered defeat, was led by +Biancomonte in the armour of Giovanni Sforza?” +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro looked at him with that displeasure with which the jester visits the man +who by anticipation robs his story of its points. +</p> + +<p> +“It was known to you?” growled he. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so. I have but learnt it from you. But it nowise astonishes +me.” +</p> + +<p> +And he looked at his sister, whose eyes devoured me, as if they would read in +my soul whether this thing were indeed true. Under her eyes I dropped my glance +like a man ashamed at hearing a disgraceful act of his paraded. +</p> + +<p> +“Had it indeed been the Lord Giovanni, he had been dead that day,” +laughed Ramiro grimly. “Indeed it was nothing but my astonishment at +sight of the face I was about to stab, after having broken the fastenings of +his visor that stayed my hand for long enough to give him the advantage. But I +bear you no grudge for that,” he ended, turning on me with a ferocious +smile, “nor yet for that other trick by which—as Boccadoro the +Fool—you bested me. I am not a sweet man when thwarted, yet I can admire +wit and respect courage. But see to it,” he ended, with a sudden and most +unreasonable ferocity, his visage empurpling if possible still more, “see +to it that you pit neither that courage nor that wit against me again. I have +heard the story of how you came to be Fool of the Court of Pesaro. Cesena is a +dull place, and we might enliven it by the presence of a jester of such nimble +wits as yours.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned without awaiting my reply, and strode away to take his place at +table, whilst I walked slowly to my accustomed seat, and took little part in +the conversation that ensued, which, as you may imagine, had me and that +exploit of mine for scope. +</p> + +<p> +Anon an elephantine trumpeting of laughter seemed to set the air a-quivering. +Ramiro was lying back in his chair a prey to such a passion of mirth that it +swelled the veins of his throat and brow until I thought that they must +burst—and, from my soul, I hoped they would. Adown his rugged cheeks two +tears were slowly trickling. The Lord Filippo, as presently transpired, had +been telling him of the epic I had written in praise of the Lord +Giovanni’s prowess. Naught would now satisfy that ogre but he must have +the epic read, and Filippo, who had retained a copy of it, went in quest of it, +and himself read it aloud for the delight of all assembled and the torture of +myself who saw in Madonna Paola’s eyes that she accounted the deception I +had practised on her a thing beyond pardon. +</p> + +<p> +Filippo had a taste for letters, as I think I have made clear, and he read +those lines with the same fire and fervour that I, myself, had breathed into +them two years ago. But instead of the rapt and breathless attention with which +my reading had been attended, the present company listened with a smile, whilst +ever and anon a short laugh or a quiet chuckle would mark how well they +understood to-night the subtle ironies which had originally escaped them. +</p> + +<p> +I crept away, sick at heart, while they were still making sport over my work, +cursing the Lord Giovanni, who had forced me to these things, and my own mad +mood that had permitted me in an evil hour to be so forced. Yet my grief and +bitterness were little things that night compared with what Madonna was to make +them on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +She sent for me betimes, and I went in fear and trembling of her wrath and +scorn. How shall I speak of that interview? How shall I describe the +immeasurable contempt with which she visited me, and which I felt was perhaps +no more than I deserved. +</p> + +<p> +“Messer Biancomonte,” said she coldly, “I have ever accounted +you my friend, and disinterested the motives that inspired a heart seemingly +noble to do service to a forlorn and helpless lady. It seems that I was wrong. +That the indulging of a warped and malignant spirit was the inspiration you had +to appear to befriend me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, you are over-cruel,” I cried out, wounded to the very +soul of me. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I so?” she asked, with a cold smile upon her ivory face. +“Is it not rather you who were cruel? Was it a fine thing to do to trick +a lady into giving her affection to a man for gifts which he did not possess? +You know in what manner of regard I held the Lord Giovanni Sforza so long as I +saw him with the eyes of reason and in the light of truth. And you, who were my +one professed friend, the one man who spoke so loudly of dying in my service, +you falsified my vision, you masked him—either at his own and at my +brother’s bidding, or else out of the malignancy of your nature—in +a garb that should render him agreeable in my eyes. Do you realise what you +have done? Does not your conscience tell you? You have contrived that I have +plighted my troth to a man such as I believed the Lord Giovanni to be. Mother +of Mercy!” she ended, with a scorn ineffable; “when I dwell upon it +now, it almost seems that it was to you I gave my heart, for yours were the +deeds that earned my regard—not his.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the very argument that I had hugged to my starving soul, at the time +the things she spoke of had befallen, and it had consoled me as naught in life +could have consoled me. Yet now that she employed it with such a scornful +emphasis as to make me realise how far beneath her I really was, how +immeasurably beyond my reach was she, it was as much consolation to me as +confession without absolution may be to the perishing sinner. I answered +nothing. I could not trust myself to speak. Besides, what was there that I +could say? +</p> + +<p> +“I summoned you back to Pesaro,” she continued pitilessly, +“trusting in your fine words and deeming honest the offer of services you +made me. Now that I know you, you are free to depart from Pesaro when you +will.” +</p> + +<p> +Despite my shame, I dared, at last, to raise my eyes. But her face was averted, +and she saw nothing of the entreaty, nothing of the grief that might have told +her how false were her conclusions. One thing alone there was might have +explained my actions, might have revealed them in a new light; but that one +thing I could not speak of. +</p> + +<p> +I turned in silence, and in silence I quitted the room; for that, I thought, +was, after all, the wisest answer I could make. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +POISON</h2> + +<p> +Despite Madonna Paola’s dismissal, I remained in Pesaro. Indeed, had I +attempted to leave, it is probable that the Lord Filippo would have deterred +me, for I was much grown in his esteem since the disclosures that had earned me +the disfavour of Madonna. But I had no thought of going. I hoped against hope +that anon she might melt to a kinder mood, or else that by yet aiding her, +despite herself, to elude the Borgia alliance, I might earn her forgiveness for +those matters in which she held that I had so gravely sinned against her. +</p> + +<p> +The epithalamium, meanwhile, was forgotten utterly and I spent my days in +conceiving wild plans to save her from the Lord Ignacio, only to abandon them +when in more sober moments their impracticable quality was borne in upon me. +</p> + +<p> +In this fashion some six weeks went by, and during the time she never once +addressed me. We saw much during those days of the Governor of Cesena. Indeed +his time seemed mainly spent in coming and going ’twixt Cesena and +Pesaro, and it needed no keen penetration to discern the attraction that +brought him. He was ever all attention to Madonna, and there were times when I +feared that perhaps she had been drawn into accepting the aid that once before +he had proffered. But these fears were short-lived, for, as time sped, +Madonna’s aversion to the man grew plain for all to see. Yet he persisted +until the very eve, almost, of her betrothal to Ignacio. +</p> + +<p> +One evening in early December I chanced, through the purest accident, to +overhear her sharp repulsion of the suit that he had evidently been pressing. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” I heard him answer, with a snarl, “I may yet prove +to you that you have been unwise so to use Ramiro del’ Orca.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you so much as venture to address me again upon the subject,” +she returned in the very chilliest accents, “I will lay this matter of +your odious suit before your master Cesare Borgia.” +</p> + +<p> +They must have caught the sound of my footsteps in the gallery in which they +stood, and Ramiro moved away, his purple face pale for once, and his eyes +malevolent as Satan’s. +</p> + +<p> +I reflected with pleasure that perhaps we had now seen the last of him, and +that before that threat of Madonna’s he would see fit to ride home to +Cesena and remain there. But I was wrong. With incredible effrontery and daring +he lingered. The morrow was a Sunday, and, on the Tuesday or Wednesday +following, Cesare Borgia and his cousin Ignacio were expected. Filippo was in +the best of moods, and paid more heed to the Governor of Cesena’s +presence at Pesaro than he did to mine. It may be that he imagined Ramiro +del’ Orca to be acting under Cesare’s instructions. +</p> + +<p> +That Sunday night we supped together, and we were all tolerably gay, the topic +of our talk being the coming of the bridegroom. Madonna’s was the only +downcast face at the board. She was pale and worn, and there were dark circles +round her eyes that did much to mar the beauty of her angel face, and inspired +me with a deep and sorrowing pity. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro announced his intention of leaving Pesaro on the morrow, and ere he went +he begged leave to pledge the beautiful Lady of Santafior, who was so soon to +become the bride of the valiant and mighty Ignacio Borgia. It was a toast that +was eagerly received, so eager and uproariously that even that poor lady +herself was forced to smile, for all that I saw it in her eyes that her heart +was on the point of breaking. +</p> + +<p> +I remember how, when we had drunk, she raised her goblet—a beautiful +chaste cup of solid gold—and drank, herself, in acknowledgment; and I +remember, too, how, chancing to move my head, I caught a most singular, +ill-omened smile upon the coarse lips of Messer Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +At the time I thought of it no more, but in the morning when the horrible news +that spread through the Palace gained my ears, that smile of Ramiro del’ +Orca recurred to me at once. +</p> + +<p> +It was from the seneschal of the Palace that I first heard that tragic news. I +had but risen, and I was descending from my quarters, when I came upon him, his +old face white as death, a palsy in his limbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you heard the news, Ser Lazzaro?” he cried in a quavering +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“The news of what?” I asked, struck by the horror in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna Paola is dead,” he told me, with a sob. +</p> + +<p> +I stared at him in speechless consternation, and for a moment I seemed forlorn +of sense and understanding. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead?” I remember whispering. “What is it you say?” +And I leaned forward towards him, peering into his face. “What is it you +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well may you doubt your ears,” he groaned. “But, Vergine +Santissima! it is the truth. Madonna Paola, that sweet angel of God, lies cold +and stiff. They found her so this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“God of Heaven!” I cried out, and leaving him abruptly I dashed +down the steps. +</p> + +<p> +Scarce knowing what I did, acting upon an impulsive instinct that was as +irresistible as it was unreasoning, I made for the apartments of Madonna Paola. +In the antechamber I found a crowd assembled, and on every face was pallid +consternation written. Of my own countenance I had a glimpse in a mirror as I +passed; it was ashen, and my hollow eyes were wild as a madman’s. +</p> + +<p> +Someone caught me by the arm. I turned. It was the Lord Filippo, pale as the +rest, his affectations all fallen from him, and the man himself revealed by the +hand of an overwhelming sorrow. With him was a grave, white-bearded gentleman, +whose sober robe proclaimed the physician. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a black and monstrous affair, my friend,” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it true, is it really true, my lord?” I cried in such a voice +that all eyes were turned upon me. +</p> + +<p> +“Your grief is a welcome homage to my own,” he said. “Alas, +Dio Santo! it is most hideously true. She lies there cold and white as marble, +I have just seen her. Come hither, Lazzaro.” He drew me aside, away from +the crowd and out of that antechamber, into a closet that had been +Madonna’s oratory. With us came the physician. +</p> + +<p> +“This worthy doctor tells me that he suspects she has been poisoned, +Lazzaro.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poisoned?” I echoed. “Body of God! but by whom? We all loved +her. There was not in Pesaro a man worthy of the name but would have laid down +his life in her service. Who was there, then, to poison that dear saint?” +</p> + +<p> +It was then that the memory of Ramiro del’ Orca, and the look that in his +eyes I had surprised whilst Madonna drank, flashed back into my mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the Governor of Cesena?” I cried suddenly. Filippo looked +at me with quick surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“He departed betimes this morning for his castle. Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +I told him why I asked; I told him what I knew of Ramiro’s attentions to +Madonna, of the rejection they had suffered, and of the vengeance he had seemed +to threaten. Filippo heard me patiently, but when I had done he shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, all being as you say, should he work so wanton a +destruction?” he asked stupidly, as if jealousy were not cause enough to +drive an evil man to destroy that which he may not possess. “Nay, nay, +your wits are disordered. You remember that he looked at Madonna whilst she +drank, and you construe that into a proof that he had poisoned the cup she +drank from. But then it is probable that we all looked at her in that same +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“But not with such eyes as his,” I insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Could he have administered the poison with his own hands?” asked +the doctor gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said I, “that were a difficult matter. But he might +have bribed a servant to drop a powder in her wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then,” said he, “it should be an easy thing to find the +servant. Do you chance to remember who served the wine?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember,” answered Filippo readily. +</p> + +<p> +“Let the man be questioned; let him be racked if necessary. Thus shall +you probably arrive at a true knowledge; thus discover under whose directions +he was working.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the only thing to do, and Filippo sent me about it there and then, +telling me the servant in question was a Venetian of the name of Zabatello. If +confirmation had been needed that this fellow had been the tool of the +poisoner—there was no reason to suppose that he would have done the thing +to have served any ends of his own—that confirmation I had upon +discovering that Zabatello was fled from Pesaro, leaving no trace behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Men were sent out by the Lord Filippo in every direction to endeavour to find +the rogue and bring him back. Whether they caught him or not seemed, after all +a little thing to me. She was dead; that was the one all-absorbing, +all-effacing fact that took possession of my mind, blotting out all minor +matters that might be concerned with it. Even the now assured fact that she had +been poisoned was a thing that found little room in my consideration on that +day of my burning grief. +</p> + +<p> +She was dead, dead, dead! The hideous phrase boomed again and again through my +distracted mind. Compared with that overwhelming catastrophe, what signified to +me the how or why or when she had died. She was dead, and the world was empty. +</p> + +<p> +For hours I sat on the rocks, alone by the sea, on that stormy day of December, +and I indulged my grief where no prying eyes could witness it, amid the +solitude of wild and angry Nature. And the moan and thud with which the great +waves hurled themselves against the base of the black rock on which I was +perched afforded but a feeble echo of the storm that raged and beat within my +desolated soul. +</p> + +<p> +She was dead, dead, dead! The waves seemed to shout it as they leapt up and +spattered me with brine; the wind now moaned it piteously, now shrieked it +fiercely as it scudded by, wrapping its invisible coils about me, and seeming +intent on tearing me from my resting-place. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening, at last, I rose, and skirting the Castle, I entered the town, +dishevelled and bedraggled, yet caring nothing what spectacle I might afford. +And presently a grim procession overtook me, and at sight of the black, cowled +and visored figures that advanced in the lurid light of their wax torches, I +fell on my knees there in the street, and so remained, my knees deep in the +mud, my head bowed, until her sainted body had been borne past. None heeded me. +They bore her to San Domenico, and thither I followed presently, and in the +shadow of one of the pillars of the aisle I crouched whilst the monks chanted +their funereal psalms. +</p> + +<p> +The singing ended, the friars departed, and presently those of the Court and +the sight-seers from the streets began to leave the church. In an hour I was +alone—alone with the beloved dead, and there, on my knees, I stayed, and +whether I prayed or blasphemed during that horrid hour, my memory will not let +me say. +</p> + +<p> +It may have been towards the third hour of night when at last I staggered +up—stiff and cramped from my long kneeling on the cold stone. Slowly, in +a half-dazed condition, I move down the aisle and gained the door of the +church. I essayed to open it. It resisted my efforts, and then I realised that +it was locked for the night. +</p> + +<p> +The appreciation of my position afforded me not the slightest dismay. On the +contrary, I think my feelings were rather of relief. I had not known whither I +should repair—so distraught was my mood—and now chance had settled +the matter for me by decreeing that I should remain. +</p> + +<p> +I turned and slowly I paced back until I stood beside the great black +catafalque, at each corner of which a tall wax taper was burning. My footsteps +rang with a hollow sound through the vast, gloomy spaces of that cold, empty +church; my very breathing seemed to find an echo in it. But these were not +things to occupy my mind in such a season, no more than was the icy cold by +which I was half-numbed—yet of which I seemed to remain unconscious in +the absorbing anguish that possessed me. +</p> + +<p> +Near the foot of the bier there was a bench, and there I sat me down, and +resting my elbows on my knees I took my dishevelled head between my frozen +hands. My thoughts were all of her whose poor murdered clay was there encased +above me. I reviewed, I think, each scene of my life where it had touched on +hers; I evoked every word she had addressed to me since first I had met her on +the road to Cagli. +</p> + +<p> +And anon my mood changed, and, from cold and frozen that it had been by grief, +it grew ablaze with the fire of anger and the lust to wreak vengeance upon him +that had brought her to this condition. Let Filippo fear to move without +proofs, let him doubt such proofs as I had set before him and deem them +overslender to warrant action. Such scruples should not serve to restrain me. I +was no lukewarm brother. Here in Pesaro I would remain until her poor body was +delivered to the earth, and then I would set out upon a last emprise. Messer +Ramiro del’ Orca should account to me for this vile deed. +</p> + +<p> +There in the House of Peace I sat gnawing my hands and maturing my bloody plans +whilst the night wore on. Later a still more frenzied mood obsessed me—a +burning desire to look again upon the sweet face of her I had loved, the +sainted visage of Madonna Paola. What was there to deter me? Who was there to +gainsay me? +</p> + +<p> +I stood up and uttered that challenge aloud in my madness. My voice echoed +mournfully up the aisles, and the sound of the echo chilled me, yet my purpose +gathered strength. +</p> + +<p> +I advanced, and after a moment’s pause, with the silver-broidered hem of +the pall in my hands, I suddenly swept off that mantle of black cloth, setting +up such a gust of wind as all but quenched the tapers. I caught up the bench on +which I had been sitting, and, dragging it forward, I mounted it and stood now +with my breast on a level with the coffin-lid. I laid hands on it and found it +unfastened. Without thought or care of how I went about the thing, I raised it +and let it crash over to the ground. It fell on the stone flags with a noise +like that of thunder, which boomed and reverberated along the gloomy vault +above. +</p> + +<p> +A figure, all in purest white, lay there under my eyes, the face covered by a +veil. With deepest reverence, and a prayer to her sainted soul to forgive the +desecration of my loving hands, I tremblingly drew that veil aside. How +beautiful she was in the calm peace of death! She lay there like one gently +sleeping, the faintest smile upon her lips, and as I looked it seemed hard to +believe that she was truly dead. Why, her lips had lost nothing of their +colour; they were as rosy red—or nearly so—as ever I had seen them +in life. How could this be? The lips of the dead are wont to put on a livid +hue. I stared a moment, my reverence and grief almost effaced by the intensity +of my wonder. This face, so ivory pale, wore not the ashen aspect of one that +would never wake again. There was a warmth about that pallor. And then I caught +my nether lip in my teeth until it bled, and it is a miracle that I did not +scream, seeing how overwrought was my condition. +</p> + +<p> +For it had seemed to me that the draperies on her bosom had slightly moved, a +gentle, almost imperceptible heave as if she breathed. I looked, and there it +came again. +</p> + +<p> +God! into what madness was I come that my eyes could so deceive me? It was the +draught that stirred the air about the church and blew great shrouds of wax +adown the taper’s yellow sides. I manned myself to a more sober mood, and +looked again. +</p> + +<p> +And now my doubts were all dispelled. I knew that I had mastered any errant +fancy, and that my eyes were grown wise and discriminating, and I knew, too, +that she lived. Her bosom slowly rose and fell; the colour of her lips, the hue +of her cheeks confirmed the assurance that she breathed. The poison had failed +in its work. +</p> + +<p> +I paused a second yet to ponder. That morning her appearance had been such that +the physician had been deceived by it, and had pronounced her cold. Yet now +there were these signs of life. What could it portend but that the effects of +the poison were passing off and that she was recovering? +</p> + +<p> +In the wild madness of joy that sent the blood drumming and beating through my +brain, my first impulse was to run for help. Then I bethought me of the closed +doors, and I realised that no matter how I shouted none would hear me. I must +succour her myself as best I could, and meanwhile she must be protected from +the chill air of that December night in that church that was colder than the +tomb. I had my cloak, a heavy, serviceable garment; and if more were needed, +there was the pall which I had removed, and which lay in a heap about the legs +of my bench. +</p> + +<p> +I leaned forward, and passing my hand under her head, I gently raised it. Then +slipping it downwards, I thrust my arm after it until I had her round the waist +in a firm grip. Thus I raised her from the coffin, and the warmth of her body +on my arm, the ready, supple bending of her limbs, were so many added proofs +that she was not dead. +</p> + +<p> +Gently and reverently I lifted her in my arms, an intoxication of holy joy +pervading me, and the prayers falling faster from my lips than ever they had +done since as a lad I had recited them at my mother’s knee. A moment I +laid her on the bench, whilst I divested myself of my cloak. Then suddenly I +paused, and stood listening, holding my breath. +</p> + +<p> +Steps were advancing towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +My first impulse was to rush forward and call to those who came, shouting my +news and imploring their help. Then a sudden, an almost instinctive suspicion +caught and chilled me. Who was it came at such an hour? What could any man seek +in the Church of San Domenico at dead of night? Was the church indeed their +goal, or were they but passers-by? +</p> + +<p> +That last question went not long unanswered. The steps came nearer, whilst I +stood appalled, my skin roughening like a dog’s. They halted at the door. +Something heavy hurtled against it. +</p> + +<p> +A voice, the voice of Ramiro del’ Orca—I knew it upon the +instant—reached my ears which concentration had rendered superacute. +</p> + +<p> +“It is locked, Baldassare. Get out those tools of yours and force +it.” +</p> + +<p> +My wits were working now at fever-pace. It may be that I am swift of thought +beyond the ordinary man, or it may be that what then came to me was either a +flash of inspiration or the conclusion to which I leapt by instinct. But in +that moment the whole plot of Madonna’s poisoning was revealed to me. +Poisoned she had been—aye, but by some drug that did but produce for a +little while the outward appearance of death so truly simulated as to deceive +the most experienced of doctors. I had heard of such poisons, and here, in very +truth, was one of them at work. His vengeance on her for her indifference to +his suit was not so clumsy and primitive as that of simply slaying her. He had, +by his infernal artifice, intended, secretly, to bear her off. To-morrow when +men found a broken church-door and a violated bier, they would set the +sacrilege down to some wizard who had need of the body for his dark practices +of magic. +</p> + +<p> +I cursed myself in that hour that I had not earlier been moved to peer into her +coffin whilst yet there might have been time to have saved her. Now? The sweat +stood out in beads upon my brow. At that door there were, to judge by the sound +of footsteps and of voices, some three or four men besides Messer Ramiro. For +only weapon I had my dagger. What could I do with that to defend her? +Ramiro’s plan would suffer no frustration through my discovery; when +to-morrow the sacrilege was discovered the cold body of Lazzaro Biancomonte +lying beside the desecrated bier would be but an item in the work of +profanation they would find—an item that nowise would modify the +conclusion to which I anticipated they would come. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +REQUIESCAT!</h2> + +<p> +A strange and mysterious thing is the working of terror on the human mind. Some +it renders incapable of thought or action, paralysing their limbs and +stagnating the blood in their veins; such creatures die in anticipating death. +Others under the stress of that grim passion have their wits preternaturally +sharpened. The instinct of self-preservation assumes command of all their +senses, and urges them to swift and feverish action. +</p> + +<p> +I thank God with a full heart that to this latter class do I belong. After one +gelid moment, spent with eyes and mouth agape, my hands fallen limp beside me +and my hair bristling with affright, I became myself again and never calmer +than in that dread moment. I went to work with superhuman swiftness. My cheeks +may have been livid, my very lips bloodless; but my hands were steady and my +wits under full control. +</p> + +<p> +Concealment—concealment for myself and her—was the thing that now +imported; and no sooner was the thought conceived than the means were devised. +Slender means were they, yet Heaven knows I was in no case to be exacting, and +since they were the best the place afforded I must trust to them without +demurring, and pray God that Messer Ramiro might lack the wit to search. And +with that fresh hope it came to me that I must find a way so to dispose as to +make him believe that to search would be a futile waste of energy. +</p> + +<p> +The odds against me lay in the little time at my disposal. Yet a little time +there was. The door was stout, and Messer Ramiro might take no violent means of +bursting it, lest the noise should arouse the street—and I well could +guess how little he would relish having lights to shine upon this deed of night +of his. +</p> + +<p> +With what tools his sbirro was at work I could not say; but surely they must be +such as would leave me a few moments. Already the fellow had begun. I could +make out a soft crunching sound, as of steel biting into wood. To act, then! +</p> + +<p> +With movements swift as a cat’s, and as silent, I went to work. Like a +ghost I glided round the coffin to the other side, where the lid was lying. I +took it up, and when for a moment I had deposited Madonna Paola on the ground, +I mounted the bench and gently but quickly set back that lid as it had been. +Next, I gathered up the cumbrous pall, and mounting the bench once more I +spread it across the coffin. This way and that I pulled it, straightening it +into the shape that it had worn when first I had entered, and casting its folds +into regular lines that would lend it the appearance of having remained +undisturbed. +</p> + +<p> +And what time I toiled, the half of my mind intent upon my task, the other half +was as intent upon the progress of the worker at the door. +</p> + +<p> +At last it was done. I set the bench where first it had been, at the foot of +the catafalque, and gathering up Madonna in my arms, as though her weight had +been an infant’s, I bore her swiftly out of the circle of light of those +four tapers into the black, impenetrable gloom beyond. On I sped towards the +high-altar, flying now as men fly in evil dreams, with the sensation of an +enemy upon them and their progress a mere standing-still. +</p> + +<p> +Thus I gained the chancel, hurtling against the railing as I passed, and +pausing for an instant, wondering whether those without could have heard the +noise which in my clumsiness I had made. But the grinding sound continued +uninterrupted, and I breathed more freely. I mounted the altar-steps, the +distant light behind me still feebly guiding me; I ran round to the right, and +heaved a great sigh of relief to find my hopes verified, and that the altar of +San Domenico was as the altar of other churches I had known. It stood a pace or +so from the wall, and behind it there was just such narrow hiding-room as I had +looked to find. +</p> + +<p> +I paused at the mouth of that black opening, and even as I paused, something +hard that gave out a metallic sound fell at the far end of the church. Instinct +told me it was the lock which those miscreants had cut from the door. I waited +for no more, but like a beast scudding to cover I plunged into that black +space. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna, wrapped in my cloak as she was, I set down upon the ground, and then I +crept forward on hands and knees and thrust out my head, trusting to the +darkness to envelop me. +</p> + +<p> +I waited thus for some seconds, my heart beating now against my ribs as if it +would hurl itself out of my bosom, my head and face on fire with the fever of +reaction that succeeded my late cold pallor. +</p> + +<p> +From where I watched it was impossible to see the door hidden in the black +gloom. Away in the centre of the church, an island of light in that vast sea of +blackness, stood the catafalque with its four wax torches. Something creaked, +and almost immediately I saw the flames of those tapers bend towards me, beaten +over by the gust that smote them from the door. Thus I surmised that Ramiro and +his men had entered. The soft fall of their feet; for they were treading +lightly now, succeeded, and at last they came into view, shadowy at first, then +sharply outlined as they approached the light. +</p> + +<p> +A moment they stood in half-whispered conversation, their voices a mere boom of +sound in which no word was to be distinguished. Then I saw Ramiro suddenly step +forward—I knew him by his great height—and drag away, even as I had +done, the pall that hid the coffin. Next he seized the bench and gave a brisk +order to his men in a less cautious voice, so that I caught his words. +</p> + +<p> +“Spread a cloak,” said he, and, in obedience, the four that were +with him took a cloak among them, each holding one of its corners. It was thus +that he meant to bear her with him. +</p> + +<p> +He mounted now the bench, and I could imagine with what elation of mind he put +out his hands to remove the coffin-lid. As well as if his soul had been +transformed into a book conceived for my amusement did I surmise the exultant +mood that then possessed him. He had tricked Filippo; he had out-witted us +all—Madonna herself, included—and he was leaving no trace behind +him that should warrant any so much as to dare to think that this vile deed was +the work of Messer Ramiro del’ Orca, Governor of Cessna. +</p> + +<p> +But Fate, that arch-humourist, that jester of the gods, delights in mighty +contrasts, and has a trick of exalting us by false hopes and hollow lures on +the very eve of working our discomfiture. From the soul that but a moment back +had been aglow with evil satisfaction there burst a sudden blasphemous cry of +rage that disregarded utterly the sanctity of that consecrated place. +</p> + +<p> +“By the Death of Christ! the coffin is empty!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the roar of a beast enraged, and it was succeeded by a heavy crash as he +let fall the coffin-lid; a second later a still louder sound awoke the +night-echoes of that silent place. In a burst of maniacal frenzy he had caught +the coffin itself a buffet of his mighty fist, and hurled it from its trestles. +</p> + +<p> +Then he leapt down from the bench, and flung all caution to the winds in the +excitement that possessed him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a trick of that smooth-faced knave Filippo,” he cried. +“They have laid a trap for us, animals, and you never informed +yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +I could imagine the foam about the corners of his mouth, the swelling veins in +his brow, and the mad bulging of his hideous eyes, for terror spoke in his +words, and the Governor of Cesena, overbearing bully though he was, could on +occasion, too, become a coward. +</p> + +<p> +“Out of this!” he growled at them. “See that your swords hang +ready. Away!” +</p> + +<p> +One of them murmured something that I could not catch. Mother in Heaven! if it +should be a suggestion of what actually had taken place, a suggestion that the +church should be searched ere they abandoned it? But Ramiro’s answer +speedily relieved my fears. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take no risks,” he barked. “Come! Let us go +separately. I first, and do you follow me and get clear of Pesaro as best you +can.” His voice grew lower, and from what else he said I but caught the +words, “Cesena” and “to-morrow night,” from which I +gathered that he was appointing that as their next meeting-place. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro went, and scarce had the echoes of his footsteps died away ere the +others followed in a rush, fearful of being caught in some trap that was here +laid for them, and but restrained from flying on the instant by their still +greater fear of that harsh master, Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +Thanking Heaven for this miraculous deliverance, and for the wit it had lent me +so to prepare a scene that should thoroughly mislead those ravishers, I turned +me now to Madonna Paola. Her breathing was grown more heavy and more regular, +so that in all respects she was as one sleeping healthily. Soon I hoped that +she might awaken, for to seek to bear her thence and to the Palace in my arms +would have been a madness. And now it occurred to me that I should have +restoratives at hand against the time of her regaining consciousness. +Inspiration suggested to me the wine that should be stored in the sacristy for +altar purposes. It was unconsecrated, and there could be no sacrilege in using +it. +</p> + +<p> +I crept round to the front of the altar. At the angle a candle-branch +protruded, standing no higher than my head. It held some three or four tapers, +and was so placed to enable the priest to read his missal at early Mass on dark +winter mornings. I plucked one of the candles from its socket, and hastening +down the church, I lighted it from one of the burning tapers of the bier. +Screening it with my hand, I retraced my steps and regained the chancel. Then +turning to the left, I made for a door that I knew should give access to the +sacristy. It yielded to my touch, and I passed down a short stone-flagged +passage, and entered the spacious chamber beyond. An oak settle was placed +against one wall, and above it hung an enormous, rudely-carved crucifix. Facing +it against the other wall loomed a huge piece of furniture, half-cupboard, +half-buffet. On a bench in a corner stood a basin and ewer of metal, whilst a +few vestments hanging beside these completed the furniture of this austere and +white-washed chamber. Setting my candle on the buffet, I opened one of the +drawers. It was full of garments of different kinds, among which I noticed +several monks’ habits. I rummaged to the bottom only to find some odd +pairs of sandals. +</p> + +<p> +Disappointed, I closed the drawer and tried another, with no better fortune. +Here were under-vestments of fine linen, newly washed and fragrant with +rosemary. I abandoned the drawer and gave my attention to the cupboard above. +It was locked, but the key was there. It opened, and my candle reflected a +blaze on gold and silver vessels, consecrated chalices; a dazzling monstra, and +several richly-carved ciboria of solid gold, set with precious stones. But in a +corner I espied a dark-brown, gourd-shaped object. It was a skin of wine, and, +with a half-suppressed cry of joy, I seized it. In that instant a piercing +scream rang through the stillness of the church, and startled me so that I +stood there for some seconds, frozen in horror, a hundred wild conjectures +leaping to my mind. +</p> + +<p> +Had Ramiro remained hidden, and was he returned? Did the scream mean that +Madonna Paola had been awakened by his rough hands? +</p> + +<p> +A second time it came, and now it seemed to break the hideous spell that its +first utterance had cast over me. Dropping the leather bottle, I sped back, +down the stone passage to the door that abutted on the chancel. +</p> + +<p> +There, by the high-altar, I saw a form that seemed at first luminous and +ghostly, but in which presently I recognised Madonna Paola, the dim rays of the +distant tapers finding out the white robe with which her limbs were hung. She +was alone, and I knew then that it was but the very natural fear consequent +upon awakening in such a place that had provoked the cry I had heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna,” I called, advancing swiftly towards her. “Madonna +Paola!” There was a gasp, a moment’s stillness, then— +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro?” She cried, questioningly. “What has happened? Why +am I here?” +</p> + +<p> +I was beside her now, and found her trembling like an aspen. +</p> + +<p> +“Something horrible has happened, Madonna,” I answered. “But +it is over now, and the evil is averted.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how came I here?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you shall learn.” I stooped to gather up the cloak which had +slipped from her shoulders as she advanced. “Do you wrap this about +you,” I urged her, and with my own hands I assisted to enfold her in that +mantle. “Are you faint, Madonna?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I scarce know,” she answered in a frightened voice. “There +is a black horror upon me. Tell me,” she implored again, “what does +it mean?” +</p> + +<p> +I drew her away now, promising to satisfy her in the fullest manner once she +were out of these forbidding surroundings. I led her to the sacristy and +seating her upon the settle I produced that wine-skin once again. +</p> + +<p> +At first she babbled like a child of not being thirsty; but I was insistent. +</p> + +<p> +“It is no matter of quenching thirst, Madonna,” I told her. +“The wine will warm and revive you. Come Madonna mia, drink.” +</p> + +<p> +She obeyed me now, and having got the first gulp down her throat she drank a +lusty draught that was not long in bringing a healthier colour to replace the +ashen pallor of her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so cold, Lazzaro,” she complained. +</p> + +<p> +I turned to the drawer in which I had espied the rough monks’ habits, and +pulling one out I held it for her to don. She sat there now, in that garment of +coarse black cloth, the cowl flung back upon her shoulder, the fairest +postulate that ever entered upon a novitiate. +</p> + +<p> +“You are good to me, Lazzaro,” she murmured plaintively, “and +I have used you very ill.” She paused a second, passing her hand across +her brow. Then—“What is the hour?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +It was a question that I left unheeded. I bade her brace herself and have +courage for the tale I was to tell. I assured her that the horror of it was all +passed and that she had naught to fear. So soon as her natural curiosity should +be satisfied it should be hers to return to her brother at the Palace. +</p> + +<p> +“But how came I thence?” she cried. “I must have lain in a +swoon, for I remember nothing.” And then her swift mind, leaping to a +reasonable conclusion; and assisted, perhaps, by the memory of the shattered +catafalque which she had seen—“Did they account me dead, +Lazzaro?” she asked of a sudden, her eyes dilating with a curious +affright as they were turned upon my own. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Madonna,” answered I, “you were accounted dead.” +And, with that, I told her the entire story of what had befallen, saving only +that I left my own part unmentioned, nor sought to explain my opportune +presence in the church. When I spoke of the coming of Ramiro and his knaves she +shuddered and closed her eyes in very awe. At length, when I had done, she +opened them again, and again she turned them full upon me. Their brightness +seemed to increase a moment, and then I saw that she was quietly weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“And you were there to save me, Lazzaro?” she murmured brokenly. +“Lazzaro mio, it seems that you are ever at hand when I have need of you. +You are indeed my one true friend—the one true friend that never fails +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you feeling stronger, Madonna?” I asked abruptly, roughly +almost. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am stronger.” She stood up as if to test her strength. +“Indeed little ails me saving the horror of this thing. The thought of it +seems to turn me sick and dizzy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sit then and rest,” said I. “Presently, when you are more +recovered, we will set out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither shall we go?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to the Palace, to your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” she answered, as though it were the last suggestion +that she had been expecting, “And to-morrow—it will be to-morrow, +will it not?—comes the Lord Ignacio to claim his bride. He will owe you +no mean thanks, Lazzaro.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. I paced the chamber, a hundred thoughts crowding my mind, +but overriding them all the conjecture of how far it might be from matins, and +how soon we might be discovered by the monks. Presently she spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” she inquired very gently, “what was it brought you +to the church?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came with the others, Madonna, to the burial service,” answered +I, and fearing such questions as might follow—questions that I had been +dreading ever since I had brought her to the sacristy—“If you are +recovered we had best be going,” I told her gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I am not yet enough recovered,” answered she. “And +before we go, there are some points in this strange adventure that I would have +you make clear to me. Meanwhile, we are very well here. If the good fathers +come upon us, what shall it signify?” +</p> + +<p> +I groaned inwardly, and I grew, I think, more afraid than when Ramiro and his +men had broken into the church an hour ago. +</p> + +<p> +“What kept you here after all were gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remained to pray, Madonna,” I answered brusquely. “Is +aught else to be done in a church?” +</p> + +<p> +“To pray for me, Lazzaro?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly, Madonna.” +</p> + +<p> +“Faithful heart,” she murmured. “And I had used you so +cruelly for the deception you practised. But you merited my cruelty, did you +not, Lazzaro? Say that you did, else must I perish of remorse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I deserved it, Madonna. But perhaps not so much as you bestowed, +had you but understood my motives,” I said unguardedly. +</p> + +<p> +“If I had understood your motives?” she mused. “Aye, there is +much I do not understand. Even in this night’s transactions there are not +wanting things that remain mysterious despite the explanations you have +supplied me. Tell me, Lazzaro, what was it led you to suppose that I still +lived? +</p> + +<p> +“I did not suppose it,” I blundered like a fool, never seeing +whither her question led. +</p> + +<p> +“You did not?” she cried, in deep surprise; and now, when it was +too late, I understood. “What was it, then, induced you to lift the +coffin-lid?” +</p> + +<p> +“You ask me more than I can tell you,” I answered, almost roughly. +“Do you thank God, Madonna, that it was so, and never plague your mind to +learn the ‘why’ of it.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me with eyes that were singularly luminous. +</p> + +<p> +“But I must know,” she insisted. “Have I not the right? Tell +me now: Was it that you wished to see my face again before they gave me over to +the grave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it was that, Madonna,” I answered in confusion, avoiding +her glance. Then—“Shall we be going?” I suggested fiercely. +But she never heeded that suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +She spoke as if she had not heard, and the words she uttered seemed to turn me +into stone. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you love me then so much, dear Lazzaro?” +</p> + +<p> +I swung round to face her now, and I know that my face was white—whiter +than hers had been when I had beheld her in her coffin. My eyes seemed to burn +in their sockets as they met hers. A madness overtook me and whelmed my better +judgment. I had undergone so much that day through grief, and that night +through a hundred emotions, that I was no longer fully master of myself. Her +words robbed me, I think, of my last lingering shred of reason. +</p> + +<p> +“Love you, Madonna?” I echoed, in a voice that was as unlike my own +as was the mood that then possessed me. “You are the air I breathe, the +sun that lights my miserable world. You are dearer to me than honour, sweeter +than life. You are the guardian angel of my existence, the saint to whom I have +turned morning and evening in my prayers for grace. Do I love you, +Madonna—?” +</p> + +<p> +And there I paused. The thought of what I did and what the consequences must be +rushed suddenly upon me. I shivered as a man shivers in awaking. I dropped on +my knees before her, bowing my head and flinging wide my arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive, Madonna,” I cried entreatingly. “Forgive and +forget. Never again will I offend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither forgive nor forget will I,” came her voice, charged with +an ineffable sweetness, and her hands descended on my bowed bead, as if she +would bless and soothe me. “I am conscious of no offence that craves +forgiveness, and what you have said I would not forget if I could. Whence +springs this fear of yours, dear Lazzaro? Am I more than woman, or you less +than man that you should tremble for the confession that in a wild moment I +have dragged from you? For that wild moment I shall be thankful to my +life’s end; for your words have been the sweetest ever my poor ears +listened to. Once I thought that I loved the Lord Giovanni Sforza. But it was +you I loved; for the deeds that earned him my affection were deeds of yours and +not of his. Once I told you so in scorn. Yet since then I have come soberly to +ponder it. I account you, Lazzaro, the noblest friend, the bravest gentleman +and the truest lover that the world has known. Need it surprise you, then, that +I love you and that mine would be a happy life if I might spend it in growing +worthy of this noble love of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a knot in my throat and tears in my eyes—a matter at which I +take no shame. Air seemed to fail me for a moment, and I almost thought that I +should swoon, so overcome was I. Transport the blackest soul from among the +damned of Hell, wash it white of its sins and seat it on one of the glorious +thrones of Heaven, then ponder its emotions, and you may learn something of +what I felt. At last, when I had mastered the exquisite torture of my +joy— +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna mia,” I cried, “bethink you of what you say. You are +the noble lady of Santafior, and I—” +</p> + +<p> +“No more of this,” she interrupted me. “You are Lazzaro +Biancomonte, of patrician birth, no matter to what odd shifts a cruel fortune +may have driven you. Will you take me?” +</p> + +<p> +She had my face between her palms, and she forced my glance to meet her own +saintly eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you take me, Lazaro?” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Holy Flower of the Quince!” was all that I could murmur, whereat +she gently smiled. “Santo Fior di Cotogno!” +</p> + +<p> +And then a great sadness overwhelmed me. A tide that neaped the frail bark of +happiness high and dry upon the shores of black despair. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow Madonna, comes the Lord Ignacio Borgia,” I groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“I know, I know,” said she. “But I have thought of that. +Paula Sforza di Santafior is dead. Requiescat! We must dispose that they will +let her rest in peace.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER XV.<br /> +AN ILL ENCOUNTER</h2> + +<p> +Speechless I stared at her a moment, so taken was I with the immensity of the +thing that she suggested. Fear, amazement, and joy jostled one another for the +possession of my mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you look so, Lazzaro?” she exclaimed at last. “What +is it daunts you? +</p> + +<p> +“How is the thing possible?” quoth I. +</p> + +<p> +“What difficulty does it present?” she questioned back. “The +Governor of Cesena has rendered very possible what I propose. We may look on +him to-morrow as our best friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Ramiro knows,” I reminded her. +</p> + +<p> +“True, but do you think that he will dare to tell the world what he +knows? He might be asked to say how he comes by his knowledge, and that should +prove a difficult question to answer. Tell me, Lazzaro,” she continued, +“if he had succeeded in carrying me away, what think you would have been +said in Pesaro to-morrow when the coffin was found empty?” +</p> + +<p> +“They would assume that your body had been stolen by some wizard or some +daring student of anatomy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! And if we were quietly to quit the church and be clear of Pesaro +before morning, would not the same be said?” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably,” answered I. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why hesitate? Is it that you do not love me enough, Lazzaro?” +</p> + +<p> +I smiled, and my eyes must have told her more than any protestation could. Then +I sighed. “I hesitate, Madonna, because I would not have you do now what +you might come, hereafter, bitterly to repent. I would not let you be misled by +the impulse of a moment into an act whose consequences must endure as long as +life itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the reasoning of a lover?” she asked me, very quietly. +“Is this cold argument, this weighing of issues, consistent with the +stormy passion you professed so lately?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is,” I answered stoutly. “It is because I love you more +than I love myself that I would have you reflect ere you adventure your life +upon such a broken raft as mine. You are Paola Sforza di Santafior, and +I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough of that,” she interrupted me, rising. She swept towards me, +and before I knew it her hands were on my shoulders, her face upturned, and her +blue eyes on mine, depriving me of all will and all resistance. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” said she, and there was an intensity almost fierce in +her low tones, “moments are flying and you stand here reasoning with me, +and bidding me weigh what is already weighed for all time. Will you wait until +escape is rendered impossible, until we are discovered, before you will decide +to save me, and to grasp with both hands this happiness of ours that is not +twice offered in a lifetime?” +</p> + +<p> +She was so close to me that I could almost feel the beating of her heart. Some +subtle perfume reaching me and combining with the dominion that her eyes seemed +to have established over me completed my subjugation. I was as warm wax in her +hands. Forgotten were all considerations of rank and station. We were just a +man and a woman whose fates were linked irrevocably by love. I stooped +suddenly, under the sway of an impulse, I could not resist, and kissed her +upturned face, turning almost dizzy in the act. Then I broke from her clasp, +and bracing myself for the task to which we stood committed by that kiss— +</p> + +<p> +“Paola,” said I, “we must devise the means to get away. I +will bear you to my mother’s home near Biancomonte, that you may dwell +there at least until we are wed. But the thing that exercises my mind is how to +make our unobserved escape from Pesaro.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have thought of it already,” she informed me quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“You have thought of it?” I cried. “And of what have you +thought?” +</p> + +<p> +For answer she stepped back a pace, and drew the cowl of the monk’s habit +over her head until her features were lost in the shadows of it. She stood +before me now, a diminutive Dominican brother. Her meaning was clear to me at +once. With a cry of gladness I turned to the drawer whence I had taken the +habit in which she was arrayed, and selecting another one I hastily donned it +above the garments that I wore. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner was it done than I caught her by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Madonna,” I bade her in an urgent voice. At the first step +she stumbled. The habit was so long that it cumbered her feet. But that was a +difficulty soon conquered. With my dagger I cut a piece from the skirt of it, +enough to leave her freedom of movement; and, that accomplished, we set out. +</p> + +<p> +We crossed the church swiftly and silently, and a moment I left her in the +porch whilst I surveyed the street. All was quiet. Pesaro still slept, and it +must have wanted some two hours or more to the dawn. +</p> + +<p> +A fine rain was falling as we sallied out, and there was a sting in the +December wind which made us draw our cowls the tighter about our face. +Abandoning the main street, I led her down some narrow alleys, deserted like +all the rest of the city, and not so much as a stray cat abroad in that foul +weather. It was very dark, and a hundred times we stumbled, whilst in some +places I almost carried her bodily to avoid the filth of the quarter we were +traversing. At length we gained the space in front of the gates that open on to +the northern road, known as Porta Venezia, and I would have blundered on and +roused the guard to let us out, using the Borgia ring once more—that +talisman whose power had grown during these years, so that it would now open me +almost any door in Italy. But Paola stayed me. Wisely she counselled that we +should do nothing that might draw too much attention upon ourselves, and she +urged me to wait until the dawn, when the guard would be astir and the gates +opened. +</p> + +<p> +So we fled to the shelter of a porch, and there we waited, huddling ourselves +out of the reach of the icy rain. We talked little during the time we spent +there. For my own part I had overmuch food for thought, and a very natural +anxiety racked me. Soon the monks would be descending to the church, and they +would discover the havoc there, and spread the alarm. +</p> + +<p> +Who could say but that they might even discover the abstraction of the two +habits from the sacristy, and the hue and cry for two men in the sackcloth of +Dominicans would be afoot—for they would infer that two men so disguised +had made off with the body of Madonna Paola. The thought stirred me like a +goad. I stood up. The night was growing thinner, and, suddenly, even as I rose, +a light gleamed from one of the Windows of the guard-house. +</p> + +<p> +“God be thanked for that fellow’s early rising,” I cried out. +“Come, Madonna, let us be moving.” +</p> + +<p> +And I added my newly-conceived reasons for quitting the place without further +delay. +</p> + +<p> +Cursing us for being so early abroad—a curse to which I responded with a +sonorous “Pax Domini sit tecum” the still somnolent sentinel opened +the post and let us pass. I was glad in the end that we had waited and thus +avoided the necessity of showing my ring, for should inquiries be made +concerning two monks, that ring of mine might have betrayed the identity of one +of them. I gave thanks to Heaven that I knew the country well. A quarter of a +league or so from Pesaro we quitted the high-road and took to the by-paths with +which I was well acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +Day came, grey and forbidding at first, but presently the rain ceased and the +sun flashed out a thousand diamonds from the drenched hedge-rows. +</p> + +<p> +We plodded on; and at length, towards noon, when we had gained the +neighbourhood of the village of Cattolica, we halted at the hut of a peasant on +a small campagna. I had divested myself of my monk’s habit, and cut away +the cowl from Madonna’s. She had thereafter fashioned it by means that +were mysterious to my dull man’s mind into a more feminine-looking garb. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we now presented ourselves to the old man who was the sole tenant of that +lonely and squalid house. A ducat opened his door as wide as it would go, and +gave us free access to every cranny of his dwelling. Food he procured +us—rough black bread, some pieces of roasted goat, and some goat’s +milk—and on this we regaled ourselves as though it had been a ducal +banquet, for hunger had set us in the mood to account anything delicious. And +when we had eaten we fell to talking, the old man having left us to go about +such peasant duties as claimed his attention, and our talk concerned ourselves, +our future first, and later on our past. I remember that Madonna returned to +the matter of the deception that I had practised, seeking to learn what reasons +had impelled me, and I answered her in all truth. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna mia, I think it must have been to win your love. When Giovanni +Sforza bade me, with many a threat, to write those verses, I undertook the task +with ready gladness, for in its performance I was to pour out the tale of the +passion that was consuming my poor heart. It occurred to me that if those +verses were worthy, you might come to love their author for their beauty, and +so I strove to render them beautiful. It was the same spirit urged me to don +the Lord Giovanni’s armour and fight in that splendid if futile skirmish. +Even as you had come to love the author for his verses, so might you come to +love the warrior for his valour. That you should account the one and the other +the work of Giovanni Sforza was to me a little thing, since I was well content +to think that you but loved him because you accounted his the things that I had +performed. Therefore was I the one you truly loved, although you did not know +it. Could you but conceive what consolation that reflection was to me, you +would deal lightly with me for my deceit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can conceive it,” she answered, very gently, her eyes downcast; +“and now that I know the motives that impelled you, I almost love you for +that deceit itself, for it seems to me that it holds some quality well worthy +of devotion.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was our talk, all of a nature to help us to a better understanding of each +other, and all seeming to endear us more and more by showing us how close the +past had already drawn us. +</p> + +<p> +Later I rose and announced my intention of adventuring into Cattolica, there to +procure her garments more seemly than those she wore, in which she might +journey on and come into the presence of my mother. Also, there was in +Cattolica a man I knew, of whom I hoped for the loan of enough money to enable +me to purchase mules, to the end that we might journey in more dignity and +comfort. It was then about the twentieth hour, and I hoped to return by +nightfall. I took my leave of Madonna, enjoining her to rest and to seek sleep +whilst I was absent; and with that I set out. +</p> + +<p> +Cattolica was no more than a half-league distant, and I looked to reach it in a +half-hour or so. I fell into thought as I trudged along, and I was building +plans for the sunlit future that was to be ours. I was a man transformed that +day, and I could have sung in spite of the chill December wind that buffeted +me, so full of joy and gladness was my heart. +</p> + +<p> +At Biancomonte I was likely to spend my days as little better than a peasant, +but surely a peasant’s estate with such a companion as was to be mine was +preferable to an emperor’s throne without her. +</p> + +<p> +The bleak landscape seemed to me invested with a beauty that at no other time I +should have noticed. God was good. I swore a thousand times, the world was a +good world—so good that Heaven could scarce be better. +</p> + +<p> +I had come, perhaps, the better half of the distance I had to travel, and I was +giving full rein to my joyous fancy, when suddenly I espied ahead a company of +horsemen. They were approaching me at a brisk pace, but I took no thought of +them, accounting myself secure from any molestation. If it so happened that it +was a search party from Pesaro, seeking two men disguised as monks who had +ravished the coffin of Madonna Paola di Santafior, what should they want of +Lazzaro Biancomonte? And so, in my confidence, I advanced even as they trotted +quickly towards me. +</p> + +<p> +Not until they were within a matter of a hundred paces did I raise my eyes to +take their measure; and then I halted on my step, smitten of a sudden by an +unreasoning and unreasonable fear, to see at their head the bulky form of the +Governor of Cesena. He saw me, too, and, what was worse, he recognised me on +the instant, for he clapped spurs to his horse and came at me as if he would +ride me down. Within three paces of me he drew up his steed. Whether the memory +of the other two occasions on which I had thwarted him arose now in his mind +and made him wonder had not some fatality brought me across his path again to +send awry his pretty schemes concerning Madonna Paula, I cannot say for +certain; yet some suspicion of it occurred to me and filled me with +apprehension. +</p> + +<p> +“Body of Bacchus!” he roared. “Is it truly you, +Boccadoro?” +</p> + +<p> +“They call me Biancomonte now, Magnificent,” I answered him. But my +tone was respectful, for it could profit me nothing to incense him. +</p> + +<p> +“A fig for what they call you,” he snapped contemptuously. +“Whence are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Pesaro,” I answered truthfully. +</p> + +<p> +“From Pesaro? But you are travelling towards it.” +</p> + +<p> +“True. I was making for Cattolica, but I missed my way in seeking to +shorten it. I am now returning by the high-road.” +</p> + +<p> +The explanation satisfied him on that point, and being satisfied, he asked me +when I had left Pesaro. A moment I hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Late last night,” said I at last. He looked, at me, my foolish +hesitation having perhaps unslipped a suspicion that was straining at its +leash. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case,” said he, “you can scarcely have heard the +strange story that is being told there?” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him, as if puzzled, for a second. “If you mean the story of +Madonna Paoia’s end, I heard it yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what story was that?” quoth he in some surprise, his beetling +brows coming together in one broad line of fur. +</p> + +<p> +I shrugged my shoulders. “Men said that she had been poisoned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that,” he cried indifferently. “But men say to-day that +her body was stolen from the Church of San Domenico where it lay. An odd +happening, is it not?” And his eyes covered me in a fierce scrutiny that +again suggested to me those suspicions of his that I might be the man who had +anticipated him. I was soon to learn that he had more grounds than at first I +thought for those same suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +“Odd, indeed,” I answered calmly, for all that I felt my pulses +quickening with apprehension. “But is it true?” I added. +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. “Rumour’s habit is to lie,” he +answered. “Yet for such a lie as that, so monstrous an imagination would +be needed that, rather, am I inclined to account it truth. There are no more +poets in Pesaro since you left. But at what hour was it that you quitted the +city?” +</p> + +<p> +To hesitate again were to betray myself; it were to suggest that I was seeking +an answer that should sort well with the rest of my story. Besides, what could +the hour signify? +</p> + +<p> +“It would be about the first hour of night,” I said. He looked at +me with increasing strangeness. +</p> + +<p> +“You must indeed have wandered from your road to have got no farther than +this in all that time. Perhaps you were hampered by some heavy burden?” +He leered evilly, and I turned cold. +</p> + +<p> +“I was burdened with nothing heavier than this body of mine and a rather +uneasy conscience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, then, have you tarried?” +</p> + +<p> +At this I thought it time to rebel. Were I too meekly to submit to this +examination, my very meekness might afford him fresh grounds for doubts. +</p> + +<p> +“Once have I told you,” I answered wearily, “that I lost my +way. And, however much it may flatter me to have your Excellency evincing such +an interest in my concerns, I am at a loss to find a reason for it.” +</p> + +<p> +He leered prodigiously once more, and his eyebrows shot up to the level of his +cap. +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you, brute beast,” he answered me. “I question +you because I suspect that you are hiding something from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What should I hide from your Excellency?” +</p> + +<p> +He dared not enlighten me on that point, for should his suspicions prove +unfounded he would have uselessly betrayed himself. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are honest, why do you lie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” I ejaculated. “In what have I lied?” +</p> + +<p> +“In that you have told me that you left Pesaro at the first hour of +night. At the third hour you were still in the Church of San Domenico, whither +you followed Madonna Paola’s bier.” +</p> + +<p> +It was my turn to knit my brows. “Was I indeed?” quoth I. +“Why, yes, it may well be. But what of that? Is the hour in which I +quitted Pesaro a matter of such moment as to be worth lying over? If I said +that I left about the first hour, it is because I was under the impression that +it was so. But I was so distraught by grief at Madonna’s death that I may +have been careless in my account of time.” +</p> + +<p> +“More lies,” he blazed with sudden passion. “It may have been +the third hour, you say. Fool, the gates of Pesaro close at the second hour of +night. Where are your wits?” +</p> + +<p> +Outwardly calm, but inwardly in a panic—more for Madonna’s sake +than for my own—I promptly held out the hand on which I wore the Borgia +ring. In a flash of inspiration did that counter suggest itself to me. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a key that will open any gate in Romagna at any hour.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the ring, and of what passed in his mind I can but offer a +surmise. He may have remembered that once before I had fooled him with the help +of that gold circlet; or he may have thought that I was secretly in the service +of the Borgias, and that, acting in their interests, I had carried off Madonna +Paola. Be that as it may, the sight of the ring threw him into a fury. He +turned on his horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucagnolo!” he called, and a man of officer’s rank detached +himself from the score of men-at-arms and rode forward. “Let six men +escort me home to Cesena. Take you the remainder and beat up the country for +three leagues about this spot. Do not leave a house outside Cattolica +unsearched. You know what we are seeking?” +</p> + +<p> +The man inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“If it is within the circle you have appointed, we will find it,” +he answered confidently. +</p> + +<p> +“Set about it,” was the surly command, and Ramiro turned again to +me. “You have gone a little pale, good Messer Boccadoro,” he +sneered. “We shall soon learn whether you have sought to fool me. Woe +betide you, should it be so. We bear a name for swift justice at Cesena.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it then,” I answered as calmly as I might. “Meanwhile, +perhaps you will now suffer me to go my ways.” +</p> + +<p> +“The readier since your way must lie with ours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Magnificent, I am for Cattolica.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, animal,” he mimicked me with elephantine grace, “you +are for Cesena, and you had best go with a good will. Our manner of +constraining men is reputed rude.” He turned again. “Ercole, take +you this man behind you. Assist him, Stefano.” +</p> + +<p> +And so it was done, and a few minutes later I was riding, strapped to the +steel-clad Ercole, away from Paola at every stride. Thus at every stride the +anguish that possessed me increased, as the fear that they must find her rose +ever higher. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +IN THE CITADEL OF CESENA</h2> + +<p> +I will not harass you at any further length with the feelings that were mine as +we sped northward towards Cesena. If you are a person of some imagination and +not destitute of human sympathy you will be able to surmise them; if you are +not—why then, my tale is not for you, and it is more than probable that +you will have wearied of it and flung it aside long before you reach this page. +</p> + +<p> +We rode so hard that by sunset Cesena was in sight, and ere night had fallen we +were within the walls of the citadel. It was when we had dismounted and I stood +in the courtyard between Ercole and another of the soldiers that Ramiro again +addressed me. +</p> + +<p> +“Animal,” said he, “they tell me that I bear a name for harsh +measures and rough ways. You shall be a witness hereafter of how deeply I am +maligned. For instead of putting you to the question and loosening your lying +tongue with the rack, I am content to keep you a prisoner until my men return +with that which I suspect you to be hiding from me. But if I then discover that +you have sought to fool me, you shall flutter from Ramiro del’ +Orca’s flagstaff.” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed up to the tower of the Castle, from which a beam protruded, laden at +that moment with a ghastly burden just discernible in the thickening gloom. He +named it well when he called it his “flagstaff,” and the miserable +banner of carrion that hung from it was a fitting pennon for the ruthless +Governor of Cesena. Worthy was he to have worn the silver hauberk of Werner von +Urslingen with its motto, “The enemy of God, of pity and of mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +Forbidding, black-browed men caught me with rough hands and dragged me off to a +dank, unlighted prison, as empty of furniture as it was full of noisome smells. +And there they left me to my ugly thoughts and my deeply despondent mood what +time the Governor of Cesena supped with his officers in the hall of the Castle. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro drank deep that night as was his habit, and being overladen with wine it +entered his mind that in one of his dungeons lay Lazzaro Biancomonte, who, at +one time, had been known as Boccadoro, the merriest Fool in Italy. In his +drunkenness he grew merry, and when Ramiro del’ Orca grew merry men +crossed themselves and betook them to their prayers. He would fain be amused, +and to serve that end he summoned one of his sbirri and bade the fellow drag +Boccadoro from his dungeon and fetch him into his presence. +</p> + +<p> +When they came for me I turned cold with fear that Madonna was already taken, +and, by contrast with such a fear as that, the reflection that he might carry +out his threat to hang me from that black beam of his, faded into insignificant +proportions. +</p> + +<p> +They ushered me into a great hall, not ill-furnished, the floor strewed +plentifully with rushes, and warmed by an enormous fire of blazing oak. By the +door stood two pikemen in armour, like a pair of statues; in the centre of the +floor was a heavy oaken board, laden now with flagons and beakers, at which sat +Ramiro with a pair of gossips so villainous to look at, that the sight of them +reminded me of the adage “God makes a man and then accompanies +him.” +</p> + +<p> +The Governor made a hideous noise at sight of me, which I was constrained to +accept as an expression of horrid glee. +</p> + +<p> +“Boccadoro,” said he, “do you recall that when last I had the +honour of being entertained by your pert tongue, I promised you that did you +ever cross my path again I would raise you to the dignity of Fool of my Court +of Cesena?” +</p> + +<p> +Into what magniloquence does vanity betray us! His Court of Cesena! As well +might you describe a pig-sty as a bower of roses. +</p> + +<p> +But his words, despite the unsavoury thing of which they seemed to hold a +promise, fell sweetly on my ear, inasmuch as for the time they relieved my +fears touching Madonna. It was not to advise me of her capture that he had had +me haled into his odious presence. I gathered courage. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not fools enough already at Cesena?” I asked him. +</p> + +<p> +A moment he looked as if he were inclining to anger. Then he burst into a +coarse laugh, and turned to one of his gossips. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I not tell you, Lampugnani, that his wit was quick and penetrating? +Hear him, rogue. Already has he discerned your quality.” He laughed +consumedly at his own jest, and turning to me he pointed to a crimson bundle on +a chair beside me. “Take those garments,” he roughly bade me. +“Go dress yourself in them, then come you back and entertain us.” +</p> + +<p> +Without answering him, and already anticipating the nature of the clothes he +bade me don, I lifted one of the garments from the heap. It was a foliated +jester’s cap, with a bell hanging from every point, which gave out a +tinkling sound as I picked it up. I let it fall again as though it had scorched +me, the memory of what stood between Madonna Paola and me rising like a warning +spectre in my mind. I would not again defile myself by the garb of folly; not +again would I incur the shame of playing the Fool for the amusement of others. +</p> + +<p> +“May it please your Excellency to excuse me,” I answered in a firm +tone. “I have made a vow never again to put on motley.” +</p> + +<p> +He eyed me sardonically for a moment, as if enjoying in anticipation the +pleasure of compelling me against my will. He sat back in his chair and threw +one heavily-booted leg across the other. +</p> + +<p> +“In the Citadel of Cesena,” said he, “we fear neither God nor +Devil, and vows are as water to us—things we cannot stomach. It does not +please me to excuse you.” +</p> + +<p> +I may have paled a little before the sinister smile with which he accompanied +his words, but I stood my ground boldly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not,” said I, “a question of what a vow may be to you +and yours, but of what a vow is to me. It is a thing I cannot break.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sangue di Cristo!” he snarled, “we will break it for you, +then—that or your bones. Resolve yourself, beast, the motley or the +rack—or yet, if you prefer it, there is the cord yonder.” And he +pointed to the far end of the chamber where some ropes were hanging from a +pulley, the implements of the ghastly torture of the cord. Of such a nature was +this monster that he made a torture-chamber of his dining-hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Let the rogue make acquaintance with it,” laughed Lampugnani, +showing a mouthful of yellow teeth behind the black beard that bushed his lips. +“I’ll swear his dancing would afford us more amusement than his +quips. Swing him up, Illustrious.” +</p> + +<p> +But the Illustrious seemed to ponder the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have five minutes in which to decide,” he informed me +presently. “They say that I am cruel. Behold how patient is my clemency. +Five minutes shall you have where many another would hang you out of hand for +bearding him as you have done me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may begin at once,” said I. “neither five minutes nor +five years will alter my determination.” +</p> + +<p> +His brow grew black with anger. “We shall see,” was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence now in which we waited, a storm of thoughts battling in my +mind. Presently Ramiro caught up one of the flagons and applied it to his cup. +It proved empty, and in a gust of passion he hurled it against the wall where +it burst into a thousand pieces. Clearly he was very angry, and it taxed my +wits to account for the little measure of patience he was showing me. +</p> + +<p> +“Beppo!” he called. A page lounging by the buffet sprang to +attention. He was a slender, rather delicate lad, fair of hair and blue of +eyes, not more than twelve years of age. An elderly man who stood beside +him—one Mariani, the seneschal of Cesena—stepped forward also, +solicitude in his glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me wine,” bawled the ogre. “Must I tell you what I +need? If you do not put those eyes of yours to better service, I’ll have +them plucked from your empty head. Bestir, animal.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man caught up a beaker from the buffet and handed it to the boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, my son,” said he. “Hasten to his Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +The lad took the beaker from his father’s hands, and trembling in his +fear of Ramiro’s anger, he sprang forward to serve him. In his haste the +poor youth slipped in some grease that had clung to the rushes. In seeking to +recover himself he tripped over the feet of one of the halberdiers that guarded +me, and measured his length upon the floor at Ramiro’s feet, flooding the +Governor’s legs with the wine he carried. +</p> + +<p> +How shall I tell you of the horror that was the sequel? +</p> + +<p> +For just one instant Ramiro looked down at the sprawling lad, his eyes glowing +like a madman’s. Then suddenly he rose, stooped, and set one hand to the +boy’s belt, the other to the collar of his jerkin. Feeling himself +lifted, and knowing whose were the dread hands that held him, poor Beppo +uttered a single scream of terror. Then Ramiro swung him round with an ease +that displayed the man’s prodigious strength. For just a second he seemed +to hesitate how to dispose of the human bundle that he held. Then, as if +suddenly taking his resolve, that devil hurled the lad across the little +intervening space, straight into the heart of the blazing fire. +</p> + +<p> +Beppo hurtled against the logs with a sickening crash, and a thousand sparks +leapt up and vanished in the cavern of the chimney. Ramiro wheeled sharply +about, and snatching the pike from the hands of one of my guards, he pinned +down the poor body of the boy to make sure of his victim’s entire +destruction. +</p> + +<p> +Away by the buffet old Mariani looked on with a face as grey as ashes, his eyes +protruding in horror at the thing they witnessed. One glimpse I had of him, and +I scarce know which was the sight that sickened me more, the fathers anguish or +the twitching limbs of the burning child. Two legs and two arms protruded from +the blaze and writhed and wriggled horribly what time the flames peeled the +garments from them and licked the flesh from the bones. At length they fell +still and sank down into the white heat of the logs, a hideous, pungent odour +spreading through the chamber. From the old man by the buffet, who had stood +spellbound during this ghastly scene, there broke at last an anguished cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy, my lord, mercy!” +</p> + +<p> +The Governor of Cesena straightened himself from his task, pulled the pike from +the flames, and restored it to the man-at-arms. Then turning to Mariani: +</p> + +<p> +“Fetch me wine,” he bade him curtly, as he seated himself once more +upon the chair from which he had risen to perform that deed of ghastly +ruthlessness. +</p> + +<p> +A torch spluttered suddenly in its sconce, and the fierce hissing of the +fire—like some monster licking its chops over a bloody meal—were +the only sounds that disturbed the stillness that ensued. +</p> + +<p> +Every man there, including Ramiro’s table companions, was white to the +lips; for accustomed though they might be to horrors in that brigand’s +nest, this was a horror that surpassed anything they had ever witnessed. The +silence irked Messer Ramiro. He looked round from under his shaggy brows, and +he spluttered out an oath. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you bring me this wine, pig?” he growled at the almost +senseless Mariani, and in his air and voice there was a promise of such +terrific things that the old man put aside his horror to make room for his +fears, and mechanically seizing another flagon he hurried forward to minister +to the wants of his fearful lord. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro eyed him with cynical amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“Your hand shakes, Mariani,” he derided him. “Are you cold? +Go warm yourself,” he added, with a brutal laugh and a jerk of his thumb +towards the fire. +</p> + +<p> +My eyes have looked upon some gruesome sights, and I have heard such tales of +ruthless cruelty as you would deem almost passing possibility. I have read of +the awful doings of the Lord Bernabo Visconti at Milan in the olden time, but I +believe that compared with this monster of Cesena that same Bernabo was no +worse than a sucking dove. How it befell that men permitted him to live, how it +was that none bethought him to put poison in his wine or a knife in his back, +is something that I shall never wholly understand. Could it be that these +robbers of whom he made a hedge for his protection were no better than himself, +or was it that the man’s terrific brutality was on such a scale that it +filled them with an almost supernatural awe of him? To men better versed than +am I in the mysterious ways of human nature do I leave the answering of these +questions. +</p> + +<p> +The ogre turned his bloodshot eyes upon me, as with his hand he caressed his +tawny beard. He seemed to have cooled a little now, and to have regained some +mastery of his drunken self. Old Mariani tottered back to his buffet, and stood +leaning against it, his eyes wandering, with the look of a man demented, to the +fire that had devoured his child. There, indeed, if he escaped the madness with +which the poignancy of his grief was threatening him, was a tool that might +turn its edge against this inhuman monster, this devil, this bloody carnifex of +a Governor. +</p> + +<p> +“Chance,” said Ramiro, “has designed that you should see +something of how we deal with clumsy knaves at Cesena, Boccadoro. To +disobedient ones I can assure you that we are not half so merciful. There is no +such short shrift for them. You have had more than the time I promised you for +reflection. The garments await you yonder. Let us know—” +</p> + +<p> +The door opened suddenly, and a servant entered. +</p> + +<p> +“A courier from the Lord Vitellozzo Vitelli, Tyrant of Città di +Castello,” he announced, unwittingly breaking in upon Ramiro’s +words, “with urgent messages for the high and Mighty Governor of +Cesena.” +</p> + +<p> +On the instant Ramiro rose, the expression of his face changing from cynical +amusement to sober concern, the task upon which he was engaged forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +“Admit him instantly,” he commanded. And whilst he waited he paced +the chamber in long strides, his chin thrust slightly forward, suggestive of +deep thought. And during that pause, I, too, was thinking. Not indeed of him, +nor vainly speculating upon such matters as might be involved in the message, +the announcement of which seemed so deeply to engage his mind, but chiefly of +my own and Madonna Paola’s concerns. +</p> + +<p> +It was not fear of what I had seen that now sent my thoughts into a new channel +and inspired me with the wisdom of obeying Ramiro del’ Orca’s +behest that I should don the hateful motley and play the Fool for his +diversion. It was not that I feared death; it was that I feared what the +consequences of my death might be to Paola di Santafior. +</p> + +<p> +However desperate a position may seem, unlooked-for loopholes often present +themselves, and so long as we live and have sound limbs to aid us to seize such +opportunities as may offer, it is a weak thing utterly to abandon hope. +</p> + +<p> +Was it, then, not better to submit to the shame of the motley once again for a +little time, when by so doing I might perhaps live to work my own salvation, +and Madonna’s should she suffer capture, rather than stubbornly to invite +him to put me to death out of a feeling of false pride? +</p> + +<p> +The very resolve seemed to lend me strength and to revive the hope that lay +moribund in my breast. And then, scarce was it taken, when the door again +opened, and a man, who was splashed from head to foot with mud, in earnest of +how hard he had ridden, was ushered in. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced to Meser Ramiro, bowed and presented a package. Ramiro broke the +seal, and standing with his back to the fire, immediately in the light shed by +one of the wax torches, he read the letter. Then his eyes wandered to the man +who had brought it, and to me it seemed that they dwelt particularly upon the +hat the courier was holding in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this good fellow to the kitchen,” he bade the servant that +had introduced him, “let him be fed and rested.” Then, turning to +the man, himself, “I shall require you to set out at daybreak with my +answer,” he said; and so, with a wave of the hand, he dismissed him. As +the messenger departed Ramiro returned to the table, filled himself a cup of +wine and drank. +</p> + +<p> +“What says the Lord Vitelli?” Lampugnani ventured to ask him. +</p> + +<p> +“If he knew you,” answered Ramiro, with a scowl, “he would +counsel me to strangle some of the over-inquisitive rascals that surround +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Over-inquisitive?” echoed Lampugnani boldly. “Body of God! +It were enough to wake the curiosity of an ecstatic hermit to have a +mud-splashed courier from Citta di Castello at Cesena three times within one +little week.” +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro looked at him, and by his glance it was plain to see that the words had +jarred his temper. Whatever it was that Vitelli wrote to Ramiro, this gentleman +was not minded to divulge it. +</p> + +<p> +“If you have supped, Lampugnani,” said the Governor slowly, his +eyes upon his offending officer, “perhaps you will find some duty to +perform ere you seek your bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Lampugnani turned crimson, and for a moment seemed to hesitate. Then he rose. +He was a man of choleric aspect, and that he served under Ramiro del’ +Orca was as much a danger to the Governor as to himself. He had not the air of +one whom it was wise to threaten in however veiled a manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I fetch you this fellow’s hat ere I sleep?” he +inquired, with contemptuous insolence. +</p> + +<p> +Not a word did Ramiro answer him, but his glance fastened upon Lampugnani with +an expression before which that impudent ruffian lowered his own bold eyes. +Thus for a moment; then with an awkward laugh to cover the intimidation that he +felt, Lampugnani walked heavily from the room and banged the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +There was about it all a strangeness that set my wits to work in a mighty busy +fashion. That work suffered interruption by the harsh voice of Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you resolved, Boccadoro?” he growled at me. “Have you +decided for the motley or the cord?” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly I fell into the part I was to play. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I choose the latter,” said I, with an assumption of sudden +airiness and such a grimace as was part and parcel of my old-time trade, +“then were I truly worthy of the former, for I should have proved myself, +indeed, a fool. Yet if I choose the former, I pray that you’ll not follow +the same course of reasoning, and hold me worthy of the latter.” +</p> + +<p> +When he had understood its subtleties; for his wits were of a quality that +would have disgraced a calf, he roared at the conceit, and seemingly thrown +into a better humour by the promise of more such entertainment, he bade my +guards release me, and urged me to assume the motley without more delay. +</p> + +<p> +What time I was obeying him my mind was returning to that matter of +Lampugnani’s words, and it is not difficult to understand how I should +arrive at the only possible conclusion they suggested. The hats of the other +messengers from Vitelli, that the officer had mentioned, had been brought to +Ramiro. The reason for this that at once arose in my mind was that within the +messenger’s hat there was a second and more secret communication for the +Governor. +</p> + +<p> +This secrecy and Ramiro’s display of anger at seeing a hint of it +betrayed by Lampugnani struck me, not unnaturally, as suspicious. What were +these hidden communications that passed between Vitellozzo Vitelli and the +Governor of Cesena? It was a matter of which I could not pretend to offer a +solution, but, nevertheless, it was one, I thought, that promised to repay +investigation. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro grew impatient, and my reflections suffered interruption by his rough +command that I should hasten. One of the men-at-arms helped me to truss my +points, and when that was done I stepped forward—Boccadoro the Fool once +more. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +THE SENESCHAL</h2> + +<p> +For an hour or so that night I played the Fool for Messer Ramiro’s +entertainment in a manner which did high justice to the fame that at Pesaro I +had earned for the name of Boccadoro. +</p> + +<p> +Beginning with quip and jest and paradox, aimed now at him, now at the officer +who had remained to keep him company in his cups, now at the servants who +ministered to him, now at the guards standing at attention, I passed on later +to play the part of narrator, and I delighted his foul and prurient mind with +the story of Andreuccio da Perugia and another of the more licentious tales of +Messer Giovanni Boccacci. I crimson now with shame at the manner in which I set +myself to pander to his mood that with my wit I might defend my life and limbs, +and preserve them for the service of my Holy Flower of the Quince in the hour +of her need. +</p> + +<p> +One man alone of all those present did I spare my banter. This was the old +seneschal, Miriani. He stood at his post by the buffet, and ever and anon he +would come forward to replenish Messer Ramiro’s cup in obedience to the +monsters imperious orders. +</p> + +<p> +What fortitude was it, I wondered, that kept the old man outwardly so calm? His +face was as the face of one who is dead, its features set and rigid, its colour +ashen. But his step was tolerably firm, and his hand seemed to have lost the +trembling that had assailed it under the first shock of the horror he had +witnessed. +</p> + +<p> +As I watched him furtively I thought that were I Ramiro I should beware of him. +That frozen calm argued to me some terrible labour of the mind beneath that +livid mask. But the Governor of Cesena appeared insensible, or else he was +contemptuous of danger from that quarter. It may even have delighted his +outrageous nature to behold a man whose son he had done to death with such +brutality continue obedient and submissive to his will, for it may have +flattered his vanity by the concession that bearing seemed to make to his grim +power. +</p> + +<p> +An hour went by, my second tale was done, and I was now entrancing Messer +Ramiro with some impromptu verses upon the divorce of Giovanni Sforza, a theme +set me by himself, when I was interrupted by the arrival of a soldier, who +entered unannounced. +</p> + +<p> +I paled and turned cold at the cry with which Ramiro rose to greet him, and the +words he dropped, which told me that here was one of the riders of the party +that, under Lucagnolo, had been ordered to search the country about Cattolica. +Had they found Madonna? +</p> + +<p> +“Messer Lucagnolo,” the fellow announced, “has sent me to +report to you the failure of his search to the west and north of Cattolica. He +has beaten the country thoroughly for three leagues of the town on those two +sides, as you desired him, but unfortunately without result. He is now +spreading his search to the south, and not a house is being left unvisited. By +morning he hopes to report again to your Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +A wild wave of joy swept through my soul. They had ransacked the country west +and north of Cattolica without result. Why then, assuredly, they had missed the +peasant’s hut that sheltered her, and where she waited yet for my return. +Their search to the south I knew would prove equally futile. I could have +fallen on my knees in a prayer of thanksgiving had my surroundings been other +than they were. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro’s eye wandered round to me and settled on me in a lowering glance. +By his face it was plain that the message disappointed him. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” said he, “whether we could make you talk?” +And from me his eyes roamed on to the instrument of torture at the end of that +long chamber. I grew sick with fear, for if he were to do this thing, and maim +me by it, how should I avail myself or her hereafter? +</p> + +<p> +“Excellency,” I cried, “since you met me you have hinted at +something that I am hiding from you, at something touching which I could give +you information did I choose. What it may be passes all thought of mine. But +this I do assure you: no torture could make me tell you what I do not know, nor +is any torture needed to extract from me such information as I may be possessed +of. I do but beg that you wilt frankly question me upon this matter, whatever +it may be, and your Excellency shall be answered to the best of my +knowledge.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me as if taken aback a little by my assurance and the seemingly +transparent candour of my speech, and in his face I saw that he believed me. A +moment he hesitated yet; then— +</p> + +<p> +“I am seeking knowledge concerning Madonna Paolo di Santafior,” he +said presently, resuming, as he spoke, his seat at table. “As I told you, +the body, which was believed to be dead, was stolen in the night from San +Domenico. Know you aught of this?” +</p> + +<p> +It may be an ignoble thing to lie, but with what other weapon was I to fight +this brigand? Surely if an exception can be made to the rule, and a lie become +a meritorious thing, such an occasion as this would surely justify such an +exception. +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing,” I answered boldly, unhesitatingly, and even with +a ring of truth and sincerity that was calculated to convince, “nor can I +even believe this rumour. It is a wild story. That the body has been stolen may +be true enough. Such things occur; though he was a bold man who laid hands upon +the body of a person of such importance. But that she lives—Gesu! that is +an old wife’s tale. I had, myself, the word of the Lord Filippo’s +physician that she was dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless, this old wife’s tale, as you dub it, is one of which +I have had confirmation. Lend me your wits, Boccadoro, and you shall not regret +it. Exercise them now, and conjecture me who could have abstracted the body +from the church. In seeking this information I am acting in the interests of +the noble House of Borgia which I serve and to which she was to have been +allied, as you well know.” +</p> + +<p> +I could have laughed to see how the apparent sincerity of my denial had +convinced him to such an extent that he even sought my help to discover the +true thief, and to account for his interest in the matter he lied to me of his +service to the House of Borgia. +</p> + +<p> +“I will gladly lend you these wits,” said I, “to disprove to +you the rumour of which you say that you have confirmation. Let us accept the +statement that the body has been stolen. That much, no doubt, is true, for even +rumours require some slight foundation. But who in all this world could say +that when the body was taken it was not dead? Clearly but one man—he that +administered the poison. And, I ask your Excellency, would he be likely to tell +the world what he had done?” +</p> + +<p> +He might have answered me: “I am that man.” But he did not. +Instead, he hung his head, as if pondering the words of wisdom I had +uttered—words meant to convince him of my own innocence in the matter; +and this they achieved, at least in part. He flashed me a look of sudden +suspicion, it is true; but it faded almost as soon as it shone from his +brooding eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I am a fool that I do not string you up and test the truth of what +you say,” he grumbled. “But I incline to believe you, and you are a +merry rogue. You shall remain and have peace and comfort so long as you amuse +me. But tremble if I discover that you have sought to deceive me. You shall +have the cord first and other things after, and your death shall be the thing +you’ll pray for long before it takes you from my vengeance. If you know +aught, speak now and you shall find me merciful. Your life and liberty shall be +the recompense of your honesty towards me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat, Excellency,” I answered, without changing colour, +“that all that I know have I already told you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was convinced, I think, for the time being. +</p> + +<p> +“Get you gone, then,” he bade me. “I have other business to +deal with ere I sleep. Mariani, see that Boccadoro is well lodged.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man bowed, and lifting a torch from its socket, he silently motioned me +to go with him. I made Messer Ramiro a profound obeisance, and withdrew in the +wake of the seneschal. +</p> + +<p> +He led me up a flight of stairs that rose from the hall and along a gallery +that ran half round it, then plunging down a corridor he halted presently, and, +opening a door, ushered me into a tolerably furnished room. +</p> + +<p> +A servant followed hanging the clothes that I had worn when I arrived. +</p> + +<p> +The old man lingered a moment after the servant had withdrawn, and his hollow +eyes rested on me for a second. I thought that he was on the point of saying +something, and I waited returning his glance with one that quailed before the +anguish of his own. I feared to speak, to offer an expression of the sympathy +that filled my heart; for in that strange place I could not tell how far a man +was to be trusted—even a man so wronged as this one. On his own part it +may be that a like doubt beset him concerning me, for in the end he departed as +he had come, no word having passed his ashen lips. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, I surveyed my surroundings by the light of the taper he had left in +the iron sconce on the wall. The single window overlooked the courtyard, so +that even had I been disposed and able to cut through the iron that barred it, +I should but succeed in falling into the hands of the guards who abounded in +that nest of infamy. +</p> + +<p> +So that, for the night at least, the notion of flight must be abandoned. What +the morrow would bring forth we must wait and see. Perhaps some way of escape +would offer itself. Then my thoughts returned to Paola, and I was tortured by +surmises as to her fate, and chiefly as to how she could have eluded the search +that must have been made for her in the hut where I had left her. Had the +peasant befriended her, I wondered; and what did she think of my protracted +absence? I sat on the edge of the bed and gave rein to my conjectures. The +noises in the castle had all ceased, and still I sat on, unconscious of time, +my taper burning low. +</p> + +<p> +It may have been midnight when I was startled by the sound of a stealthy step +in the corridor near my door. A heavy footfall I should have left unheeded, but +this soft tread aroused me on the instant, and I sat listening. +</p> + +<p> +It halted at my door, and was succeeded by a soft, scratching sound. +Noiselessly I rose, and with ready hands I waited, prepared, in the instinct of +self-preservation, to fall upon the intruder, however futile the act might be. +But the door did not open as I expected. Instead, the scratching sound +continued, growing slightly louder. Then it occurred to me, at last, that +whoever came might be a friend craving admittance, and proceeding stealthily +that others in the castle might not overhear him. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly I crossed to the door, and opened. On the threshold a dark figure +straightened itself from a stooping posture, and the light of the taper behind +me fell on a face of a pallor that seemed to glisten in its intensity. It was +the face of Mariani, the seneschal of the Castle of Cessna. +</p> + +<p> +One glance we exchanged, and intuitively I seemed to apprehend the motive of +this midnight visit. He came either to bring me aid or to seek mine, with +vengeance for his guerdon. I stood aside, and silently he entered my room and +closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Quench your taper,” he bade me in a husky whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Without hesitation I obeyed him, a strange excitement thrilling me. For a +second we stood in the dark, then another light gleamed as he plucked away the +cloak that masked a lanthorn which he had brought with him. He set the lanthorn +on the floor, and held the cloak in his hand, ready at a moment’s notice +to conceal the light in its folds. Then pulling me down beside him on the bed, +where he had perched himself: +</p> + +<p> +“My friend,” said he, “it may be that I bring you +assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, then,” I bade him. “You shall not find me slow to act +if there is the need or the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I had surmised,” he said. “Are you not that same +Boccadoro, Fool of the Court of Pesaro, who donned the Lord Giovanni’s +armour and rode out to do battle in his stead?” +</p> + +<p> +I answered him that I was that man. +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard the tale,” said he. “Indeed, all Italy has +heard it, and knows you for a man of steel, as strong and audacious as you are +cunning and resourceful. I know against what desperate odds you fought that +day, and how you overcame this terrible Ramiro. This it is that leads me to +hope that in the service of your own ends you may become the instrument of my +vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfold your project, man,” I muttered, fiercely almost, in my +burning eagerness. “Let me hear what you would have me do.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer me until a sob had shaken his old frame. +</p> + +<p> +“That boy,” he muttered brokenly, “that golden-haired angel +sent me for the consolation of my decaying years, that lad whom Ramiro +destroyed so foully and wantonly, was my son. Futile though the attempt had +proved, I had certainly set my hands at the tyrants neck, but that I founded +hopes on you of a surer and more terrible revenge. That thought has manned me +and upheld me when anguish was near to slaying me outright. To see the boy burn +so under my very eyes! God of mercy and pity! That I should have lived so +long!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your child burned but a moment, suffered but an instant; for the deed, +Ramiro will burn in Hell through countless generations, through interminable +ages.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a paltry consolation, perhaps, but it was the best that then occurred to +me. +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile,” I begged him, “do you tell me what you would +have me do.” +</p> + +<p> +I urged him to it that he might, thereby, suffer his mind to rest a moment from +pondering that ghastly thing that he had witnessed, that scene that would live +before his eyes until they closed in their last sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“You heard Lampugnani quip Ramiro with the fact that three messengers +have ridden desperately within the week from Citta di Castello to Cesena, and +you heard, perhaps, his obscure reference to the hat?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard both, and both I weighed,” said I. The old man looked at +me as if surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“And what,” he asked, “was the conclusion you arrived +at?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, simply this: that whilst the messenger bore some letter from +Vitelli to Ramiro that should serve to lull the suspicions of any who, +wondering at so much traffic between these two, should be moved to take a peep +into those missives, the true letter with which the courier rides is concealed +within the lining of his hat—probably unknown even to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at me as though I had been a wizard. +</p> + +<p> +“Messer Boccadoro—” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“My name,” I corrected him, “is Biancomonte—Lazzaro +Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever be your name,” he returned, “of the quality of your +wits there can be no question. You have guessed for yourself the half of what I +was come to tell you. Has your shrewdness borne you any further? Have you +concluded aught concerning the nature of those letters?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have concluded that it might repay some trouble to discover what is +contained in letters that are sent with so much secrecy. I can conceive nothing +that might lie between the Lord of Citta di Castello and this ruffian of +Cesena, and yet—treason lurks often where least it is expected, and +treason makes stranger bed-fellows than misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lampugnani was no fool, and yet a great fool,” the old man +murmured. He surmised what you have surmised. With each of the messengers +Ramiro has dealt in the same manner. He has sent each to be fed and refreshed +whilst waiting to return with the answer he was penning. For their refreshment +he has ordered a very full, stout wine—not drugged, for that they might +discover upon awaking; but a wine that of itself would do the work of setting +them to sleep very soundly. Then, when all slept, and only he remained at +table, like the drunkard that he is, it has been his habit to descend himself +to the kitchen and possess himself of the messenger’s hat. With this he +has returned to the hall, opened the lining and withdrawn a letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, as I suppose, he has penned his answer, thrust it into the lining, +where the other one had been, and secured it, as it was before, with his own +hands. He has returned the hat to the place from whence he took it, and when +the courier awakens in the morning there is another letter put into his hand, +and he is bidden to bear it to Vitelli.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment; then continued: “Lampugnani must have suspected +something and watched Ramiro to make sure that his suspicions were well +founded. In that he was wise, but he was a fool to allow Ramiro to see what lie +he had discovered. Already he has paid the penalty. He is lying with a dagger +in his throat, for an hour ago Ramiro stabbed him while he slept.” +</p> + +<p> +I shuddered. What a place of blood was this! Could it be that Cesare Borgia had +no knowledge of what things were being performed by his Governor of Cesena? +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Lampugnani!” I sighed. “God rest his soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“I doubt but he is in Hell,” answered Mariani, without emotion. +“He was as great a villain as his master, and he has gone to answer for +his villainy even as this ugly monster of a Ramiro shall. But let Lampugnani +be. I am not come to talk of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Returning from his bloody act, Ramiro ordered me to bed. I went, and as +I passed Lampugnani’s room I saw the door standing wide. It was thus that +I learnt what had befallen. I remembered his words concerning the hat and I +remembered old suspicions of my own aroused by the thought of the potent wine +which Ramiro had ordered me to see given to the couriers. I sped back to the +gallery that overlooks the hall. Ramiro was absent, and I surmised at once that +he was gone to the kitchen. Then was it that I thought of you and of what +service you might render if things were indeed as I now more than suspected. +Like an inspiration it came to me how I might prepare your way. I ran down to +the hall, sweating in my terror that he should return ere I had performed the +task I went on. From the buffet I drew a flagon of that same stout wine that +Ramiro used upon his messengers. I ripped away the seal and crimson cord by +which it is distinguished, and placing it on the table I removed the flagon I +had set for him before I had first departed. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I fled back to the gallery, and from the shadows I watched for his +return. Soon he came, bearing a hat in his hand; and from that hat he took a +letter, all as you have surmised. He read it, and I saw his face lighten with a +fierce excitement. Then he helped himself freely to wine, and drank thirstily, +for all that he was overladen with it. One of the qualities of this wine is +that in quenching thirst it produces yet a greater. Ramiro drank again, then +sat with the letter before him in the light of the single taper I had left +burning. Presently he grew sleepy. He shook himself and drank again. Then again +he sat conning his epistle, and thus I left him and came hither in quest of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +There followed a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” I asked at length. “What is it you would have me do? +Stab him as he sleeps?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “That were too sweet and sudden a death for him. If it +had been no more than a matter of that, my old arms would have lent me strength +enough. But think you it would repay me for having seen my boy pinned by that +monster’s pike to the burning logs?” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, then, you ask of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“If that letter were indeed the treasonable document we account it; if +its treason should be aimed at Cesare Borgia—it could scarce be aimed at +another—would it not be a sweet thing to obtain possession of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, but when he wakes to-morrow and finds it gone—what then? You +know this Governor of Cesena well enough to be assured that he would ransack +the castle, torture, rack, burn and flay us all until the missive were +forthcoming.” +</p> + +<p> +“That,” he groaned, “is what deterred me. If I had the means +of getting the letter sent to Cesare Borgia, or of escaping with it myself from +Cesena, I should not have hesitated. Cesare Borgia is lying at Faenza, and I +could ride there in a day. But it would be impossible for me to leave the place +before morning. I have duties to perform in the town, and I might get away +whilst I am about them, but before then the letter will have been missed, and +no one will be allowed to leave the citadel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then,” said I, “the only hope lies in abstracting that +letter in such a manner that he shall not suspect the loss; and that seems a +very desperate hope.” +</p> + +<p> +We sat in silence for some moments, during which I thought intently to little +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“Does he sleep yet, think you?” I asked presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly he must.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I were to go to the gallery, is there any fear that I should be +discovered by others?” +</p> + +<p> +“None. All at Cesena are asleep by now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said I, rising, “let us take a look at him. Who knows +what may suggest itself? Come.” I moved towards the door, and he took up +his lanthorn and followed me, enjoining me to tread lightly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +THE LETTER</h2> + +<p> +On tiptoe I crept down that corridor to the gallery above the banqueting-hall, +secure from sight in the enveloping darkness, and intent upon allowing no sound +to betray my presence, lest Ramiro should have awakened. Behind me, treading as +lightly, came Messer Mariani. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we gained the gallery. I leaned against the stout oaken balustrade, and +looked down into the black pit of the hall, broken in the centre by the circle +of light from the two tapers that burnt upon the table. The other torches had +all been quenched. +</p> + +<p> +At the table sat Messer Ramiro, his head fallen forward and sideways upon his +right arm which was outstretched and limp along the board. Before him lay a +paper which I inferred to be the letter whose possession might mean so much. +</p> + +<p> +I could hear the old man breathing heavily beside me as I leaned there in the +dark, and sought to devise a means by which that paper might be obtained. No +doubt it would be the easiest thing in the world to snatch it away without +disturbing him. But there was always to be considered that when he waked and +missed the letter we should have to reckon with his measures to regain +possession of it. +</p> + +<p> +It became necessary, therefore, to go about it in a manner that should leave +him unsuspicious of the theft. A little while I pondered this, deeming the +thing desperate at first. Then an idea came to me on a sudden, and turning to +Mariani I asked him could he find me a sheet of paper of about the size of that +letter held by Ramiro. He answered me that he could, and bade me wait there +until he should return. +</p> + +<p> +I waited, watching the sleeper below, my excitement waxing with every second of +the delay. Ramiro was snoring now—a loud, sonorous snore that rang like a +trumpet-blast through that vast empty hall. +</p> + +<p> +At last Mariani returned, bringing the sheet of paper I had asked for, and he +was full of questions of what I intended. But neither the place nor the time +was one in which to stand unfolding plans. Every moment wasted increased the +uncertainty of the success of my design. Someone might come, or Ramiro might +awaken despite the potency of the wine he had been given—for on so +well-seasoned a toper the most potent of wines could have but a transient +effect. +</p> + +<p> +So I left Mariani, and moved swiftly and silently to the head of the staircase. +</p> + +<p> +I had gone down two steps, when, in the dark, I missed the third, the bells in +my cap jangling at the shock. I brought my teeth together and stood breathless +in apprehension, fearing that the noise might awaken him, and cursing myself +for a careless fool to have forgotten those infernal bells. Above me I heard a +warning hiss from old Mariani, which, if anything, increased my dread. But +Ramiro snored on, and I was reassured. +</p> + +<p> +A moment I stood debating whether I should go on, or first return to divest +myself of that cap of mine. In the end I decided to pursue the latter course. +The need for swift and sudden movement might come ere I was done with this +adventure, and those bells might easily be the undoing of me. So back I went to +the surprise and infinite dismay of Mariani until I had whispered in his ear +the reason. We retreated together to the corridor, and there, with his help, I +removed my jangling headgear, which I left him to restore to my chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst he went upon that errand I returned once more on mine, and this time I +gained the foot of the stairs without mishap, and stood in the hall. +Ramiro’s back was towards me. On my right stood the tall buffet from +which the boy had fetched him wine that evening; this I marked out as the cover +to which I must fly in case of need. +</p> + +<p> +A second I stood hesitating, still considering my course; then I went softly +forward, my feet making no sound in the rushes of the floor. I had covered half +the distance, and, growing bolder, I was advancing more swiftly and with less +caution, when suddenly my knee came in contact with a three-legged stool that +had been carelessly left where none would have suspected it. The blow may have +hurt afterwards, indeed, I was conscious of a soreness at the knee; but at the +moment I had no thought or care for physical pain. The bench went over with a +crash, and for all that the rushes may have deadened in part the sound of its +fall, to my nervous ear it boomed like the report of a cannon through the +stillness of the place. +</p> + +<p> +I turned cold as ice, and the sweat of fear sprang out to moisten me from head +to foot. Instantly I dropped on all fours, lest Ramiro, awaking suddenly, +should turn; and I waited for the least sign that should render advisable my +seeking the cover of the buffet. In the gallery above I could picture old +Mariani clenching his teeth at the noise, his knees knocking together, and his +face white with horror; for Ramiro’s snoring had abruptly ceased. It came +to an end with a choking catch of the breath, and I looked to see him raise his +head and start up to ascertain what it was that had aroused him. But he never +stirred, and for all that he no longer snored, his breathing continued heavy +and regular, so that I was cheered by the assurance that I had but disturbed +his slumber, not dispelled it. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, since I had disturbed and lightened it, a greater precaution was now +necessary, and I waited there for some ten minutes maybe, a period that must +have proved a very eternity to the old man upstairs. At last I had the reward +of hearing the snoring recommence; lightly at first, but soon with all its +former fullness. +</p> + +<p> +I rose and proceeded now with a caution that must guard me from any more +unlooked-for obstacles. Moreover, as I approached, the darkness was dispelled +more and more at every stride in the direction of the light. At last I reached +the table, and stood silent as a spectre at Ramiro’s side, looking down +upon the features of the sleeping man. +</p> + +<p> +His face was flushed, and his tawny hair tumbled about his damp brow; his lips +quivered as he breathed. For a moment, as I stood gazing on him, there was +murder in my mind. His dagger hung temptingly in his girdle. To have drawn it +and rid the world of this monster might have been a worthy deed, acceptable in +the eyes of Heaven. But how should it profit me? Rather must it prove my +destruction at the hands of his followers, and to be destroyed just then, with +Paola depending upon me, and life full of promise once I regained my liberty, +was something I had no mind to risk. +</p> + +<p> +My eyes wandered to the letter lying on the table. If this were of the nature +we suspected, it should prove a safer tool for his destruction. +</p> + +<p> +To read it as it lay was an easy matter, and it came to me then that ere I +decided upon my course it might be well that I should do so. If by chance it +were innocent of treason, why, then, I might resort to the risk of that other +and more desperate weapon—his own dagger. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the short flight of steps that led from the hall to the +courtyard I could hear the slow pacing of the sentry placed there by Ramiro. +But unless he were summoned, it was extremely unlikely that the fellow would +leave his post, so that, I concluded, I had little to fear from that quarter. I +drew back and taking up a position behind Ramiro’s chair—a position +more favourable to escape in the untoward event of his awaking—I craned +forward to read the letter over his shoulder. I thanked God in that hour for +two things: that my sight was keen, and that Vitellozzo Vitelli wrote a large, +bold hand. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely breathing, and distracted the while by the mad racing of my pulses, I +read; and this, as nearly as I can remember, is what the letter contained: +</p> + +<p> +“ILLUSTRIOUS RAMIRO—Your answer to my last letter reached me +safely, and it rejoiced me to learn that you had found a man for our +undertaking. See that you have him in readiness, for the hour of action is at +hand. Cesare goes south on the second or third day of the New Year, and he has +announced to me his intention of passing through Cesena on his way, there to +investigate certain charges of maladministration which have been preferred +against you. These concern, in particular, certain misappropriation of grain +and stores, and an excessive severity of rule, of which complaints have reached +him. From this you will gather that out of a spirit of self-defence, if not to +earn the reward which we have bound ourselves to pay you, it is expedient that +you should not fail us. The occasion of the Duke’s visit to Cesena will +be, of all, the most propitious for our purpose. Have your arbalister posed, +and may God strengthen his arm and render true his aim to the end that Italy +may be rid of a tyrant. I commend myself to your Excellency, and I shall +anxiously await your news. +</p> + +<p> +“VITELLOZZO VITELLI.” +</p> + +<p> +Here indeed were my hopes realised. A plot there was, and it aimed at nothing +less than the Duca Valentino’s life. Let that letter be borne to Cesare +Borgia at Faenza, and I would warrant that within a dozen hours of his receipt +of it he would so dispose that all who had suffered by the cruel tyranny of +Ramiro del’ Orca would be avenged, and those who were still suffering +would be relieved. In this letter lay my own freedom and the salvation of +Madonna Paula, and this letter it behoved me at once to become possessed. It +was a safer far alternative than that dagger of his. +</p> + +<p> +A moment I stood pondering the matter for the last time, then stepping sideways +and forward, so that I was again beside him, I put out my hand and swiftly +whipped the letter from the table. Then standing very still, to prevent the +slightest rustle, I remained a second or two observing him. He snored on, +undisturbed by my light-fingered action. +</p> + +<p> +I drew away a pace or two, as lightly as I might, and folding the letter I +thrust it into my girdle. Then from my open doublet I drew the sheet that +Mariani had supplied me, and, advancing again, I placed it on the table in a +position almost identical with that which the original had occupied, saving +that it was removed a half-finger’s breadth from his hand, for I feared +to allow it actually to touch him lest it should arouse him. +</p> + +<p> +Holding my breath, for now was I come to the most desperate part of my +undertaking, I caught up one of the tapers and set fire to a corner of the +sheet. That done, I left the candle lying on its side against the paper, so as +to convey the impression to him, when presently he awakened, that it had fallen +from it sconce. Then, without waiting for more, I backed swiftly away, watching +the progress of the flames as they devoured the paper and presently reached his +hand and scorched it. +</p> + +<p> +At that I dropped again on all fours, and having gained the corner of the +buffet, I crouched there, even as with a sudden scream of pain he woke and +sprang upright, shaking his blistered hand. As a matter of instinct he looked +about to see what it was had hurt him. Then his eyes fell upon the charred +paper on the table, and the fallen candle, which was still burning across one +end of it, and even to the dull wits of Ramiro del’ Orca the only +possible conclusion was suggested. He stared at it a moment, then swept that +flimsy sheet of ashes from the table with an oath, and sank back once more into +his great leathern chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Body of God!” he swore aloud, “it is well that I had read it +a dozen times. Better that it should have been burnt than that someone should +have read it whilst I slept.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea of such a possibility seemed to rouse him to fresh action, for seizing +the fallen candle and replacing it in its socket, he rose once more, and +holding it high above his head he looked about the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The light it shed may have been feeble, and the shadows about my buffet thick; +but, as I have said, my doublet was open, and some ray of that weak candlelight +must have found out the white shirt that was showing at my breast, for with a +sudden cry he pushed back his chair and took a step towards me, no doubt intent +upon investigating that white something that he saw gleaming there. +</p> + +<p> +I waited for no more. I had no fancy to be caught in that corner, utterly at +his mercy. I stood up suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Magnificent, it is I,” I announced, with a calm and boundless +effrontery. +</p> + +<p> +The boldness of it may have staggered him a little, for he paused, although his +eyes were glowing horribly with the frenzy that possessed him, the half of +which was drunkenness, the other fear and wrath lest I should have seen his +treacherous communication from Vitelli. +</p> + +<p> +“What make you here?” he questioned threateningly. +</p> + +<p> +“I thirsted, Excellency,” I answered glibly. “I thirsted, and +I bethought me of this buffet where you keep your wine.” +</p> + +<p> +He continued to eye me, some six paces off, his half-drunken wits no doubt +weighing the plausibility of my answer. At last— +</p> + +<p> +“If that be all, what cause had you to hide?” he asked me shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“One of your candles fell over and awakened you,” said I. “I +feared you might resent my presence, and so I hid.” +</p> + +<p> +“You came not near the table?” he inquired. “You saw nothing +of the paper that I held? Nay, by the Host! I’ll take no risks. You were +born ’neath an unlucky star, fool; for be your reason for your presence +here no more than you assert, you have come in a season that must be fatal to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +He set the candle on the table, then carrying his hand to his girdle he +withdrew it sharply, and I caught the gleam of a dagger. +</p> + +<p> +In that instant I thought of Mariani waiting above, and like a flash it came to +me that if I could outpace this drunken brigand, and, gaining the gallery well +ahead of him, transfer that letter to the old man’s hands, I should not +die in vain. Cesare Borgia would avenge me, and Madonna Paola, at least, would +be safe from this villain. If Mariani could reach Valentino at Faenza, I would +answer for it that within four-and-twenty hours Messer Ramiro del’ Orca +would be the banner on that ghastly beam that he facetiously dubbed his +flagstaff; and he would be the blackest, dirtiest banner that ever yet had +fluttered there. +</p> + +<p> +The thought conceived in the twinkling of an eye, I acted upon without a +second’s hesitation. Ere Ramiro had taken his first step towards me, I +had sprung to the stairs and I was leaping up them with the frantic speed of +one upon whose heels death is treading closely. +</p> + +<p> +A singular, fierce joy was blent with my measure of fear; a joy at the thought +that even now, in this extremity, I was outwitting him, for never a doubt had +he that the burnt paper he had found on the table was all that was left of +Vitelli’s letter. His fears were that I might have read it, but never a +suspicion crossed his mind of such a trick as I had played upon him. +</p> + +<p> +So I sped on, the gigantic Ramiro blundering after me, panting and blaspheming, +for although powerful, his bulk and the wine he had taken left him no +nimbleness. The distance between us widened, and if only Mariani would have the +presence of mind to wait for me at the mouth of the passage, all would be as I +could wish it before his dagger found my heart. +</p> + +<p> +I was assuring myself of this when in the dark I stumbled, and striking my legs +against a stair I hurtled forward. I recovered almost immediately, but, in my +frenzy of haste to make up for the instant lost, I stumbled a second time ere I +was well upon my feet. +</p> + +<p> +With a roar Ramiro must have hurled himself forward, for I felt my ankle caught +in a grip from which there was no escaping, and I was roughly and brutally +dragged back and down those stairs; now my head, now my breast beating against +the steps as I descended them one by one. +</p> + +<p> +But even in that hour the letter was my first thought, and I found a way to +thrust it farther under my girdle so that it should not be seen. +</p> + +<p> +At last I reached the hall, half-stunned, and with all the misery of defeat and +the certainty of the futility of my death to further torture my last moments. +Over me stood Ramiro, his dagger upheld, ready to strike. +</p> + +<p> +“Dog!” he taunted me, “your sands are run.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy, Magnificent,” I gasped. “I have done nothing to +deserve your poniard.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed brutally, delaying his stroke that he might prolong my agony for his +drunken entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +“Address your prayers to Heaven,” he mocked me, “and let them +concern your soul.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, like a flash of inspiration came the words that should delay his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Spare me,” I cried “for I am in mortal sin.” +</p> + +<p> +Impious, abandoned villain, though he was, he said too much when he boasted +that he feared neither God nor Devil. He was prone to forget his God, and the +lessons that as a babe he had learnt at his mother’s knee—for I +take it that even Ramiro del’ Orca had once been a babe—but deep +down in his soul there had remained the fear of Hell and an almost instinctive +obedience to the laws of Mother Church. He could perform such ruthless +cruelties as that of hurling a page into the fire to punish his clumsiness; he +could rack and stab and hang men with the least shadow of compunction or twinge +of conscience, but to slay a man who professed himself to be in mortal sin was +a deed too appalling even for this ruthless butcher. +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated a second, then he lowered his hand, his face telling me clearly +how deeply he grudged me the respite which, yet, he dared not do other than +accord me. +</p> + +<p> +“Where shall I find me a priest?” he grumbled. “Think you the +Citadel of Cesena is a monastery? I will wait while you make an act of +contrition for your sins. It is all the shrift I can afford you. And get it +done, for it is time I was abed. You shall have five minutes in which to clear +your soul.” +</p> + +<p> +By this it seemed to me—as it may well seem to you—that matters +were but little mended, and instead of employing the respite he accorded me in +the pious collecting of thoughts which he enjoined, I sat up—very sore +from my descent of the stairs—and employed those precious moments in +putting forward arguments to turn him from, his murderous purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“I have lived too ungodly a life,” I protested, “to be able +to squeeze into Paradise through so narrow a tate. As you would hope for your +own ultimate salvation, Excellency, I do beseech you not to imperil +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +This disposed him, at least, to listen to me, and proceeded to assure him of +the harmless nature of my visit to the hall in quest of wine to quench my +thirst. I was running the grave risk of dying with lies on my lips, but I was +too desperate to give the matter thought just then. His mood seemed to relent; +the delay, perhaps, had calmed his first access of passion, and he was grown +more reasonable. But when Ramiro cooled he was, perhaps, more malignant than +ever, for it meant a return to natural condition, and Ramiro’s natural +condition was one of cruelty unsurpassed. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be as you say,” he answered me at last, sheathing his +dagger, “and at least you have my word that I will not slay you without +first assuring myself that you have lied. For to-night you shall remain in +durance. To-morrow we will apply the question to you.” +</p> + +<p> +The hope that had been reviving in my breast fell dead once more, and I turned +cold at that threat. And yet, between now and to-morrow, much might betide, and +I had cause for thankfulness, perhaps, for this respite. Thus I sought to cheer +myself. But I fear I failed. To-morrow he would torture me, not so much to +ascertain whether I had spoken truly, but because to his diseased mind it +afforded diversion to witness a man’s anguish. No doubt it was that had +urged him now to spare my life and accord me this merciless piece of mercy. +</p> + +<p> +In a loud voice he called the sentry who was pacing below; and in a moment the +man appeared in answer to that summons. +</p> + +<p> +“You will take this knave to the chamber set apart for him up there, and +you will leave him secure under lock and bar, bringing me the key of his +door.” +</p> + +<p> +The fellow informed himself which was the chamber, then turning to me he curtly +bade me go with him. Thus was I haled back to my room, with the promise of +horrors on the morrow, but with the night before me in which to scheme and pray +for some miracle that might yet save me. But the days of miracles were long +past. I lay on my bed and deplored with many a sigh that bitter fact. And if +aught had been wanting to increase the weight of fear and anguish on my already +over-burdened mind, and to aid in what almost seemed an infernal plot to +utterly distract me, I had it in fresh, wild conjectures touching Madonna +Paola. Where indeed could she be that Ramiro’s men had failed to find her +for all that they had scoured that part of the country in which I had left her +to wait for my return? What if, by now, worse had befallen her than the capture +with which Ramiro’s lieutenant was charged? +</p> + +<p> +With such doubts as these to haunt me, fretted as I was by my utter inability +to take a step in her service, I lay. There for an hour or so in such agony of +mind as is begotten only of suspense. In my girdle still reposed the +treasonable letter from Vitelli to Ramiro, a mighty weapon with which to +accomplish the butcher’s overthrow. But how was I to wield it imprisoned +here? +</p> + +<p> +I wondered why Mariani had not returned, only to remember that the soldier who +had locked me in had carried the key of my prison-chamber to Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the stillness was disturbed by a faint tap at my door. My instincts +and my reason told me it must be Mariani at last. In an instant I had leapt +from the bed and whispered through the keyhole: +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I—Mariani—the seneschal,” came the old +man’s voice, very softly, but nevertheless distinctly. “They have +taken the key.” +</p> + +<p> +I groaned, then in a gust of passion I fell to cursing Ramiro for that +precaution. +</p> + +<p> +“You have the letter?” came Mariani’s voice again. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I have it still,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen what it contains?” +</p> + +<p> +“A plot to assassinate the Duke—no less. Enough to get this bloody +Ramiro broken on the wheel.” +</p> + +<p> +I was answered by a sound that was as a gasp of malicious joy. Then the old +man’s voice added: +</p> + +<p> +“Can you pass it under the door? There is a sufficient gap.” +</p> + +<p> +I felt, and found that he was right; I could pass the half of my hand +underneath. I took the letter and thrust it through. His hands fastened on it +instantly, almost snatching it from my fingers before they were ready to +release it. +</p> + +<p> +“Have courage,” he bade me. “Listen. I shall endeavour to +leave Cesena in the morning, and I shall ride straight for Faenza. If I find +the Duke there when I arrive, he should be here within some twelve or fourteen +hours of my departure. Fence with Ramiro, temporise if you can till then, and +all will be well with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do what I can,” I answered him. “But if he slays me +in the meantime, at least I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that he will +not be long in following me.” +</p> + +<p> +“May God shield you,” he said fervently. +</p> + +<p> +“May God speed you,” I answered him, with a still greater fervour. +</p> + +<p> +That night, as you may well conceive, I slept but little, and that little ill. +The morning, instead of relieving the fears that in the darkness had been with +me, seemed to increase them. For now was the time for Mariani to act, and I was +fearful as to how he might succeed. I was full of doubts lest some obstacle +should have arisen to prevent his departure from Cesena, and I spent my morning +in wearisome speculation. +</p> + +<p> +I took an almost childish satisfaction in the thought that since, being a +prisoner, I could no longer count myself the Fool of the Court of Cesena, I was +free to strip the motley and assume the more sober garments in which I had been +taken, and which—as you may recall—had been placed in my chamber on +the previous evening. It was the very plainest raiment. For doublet I wore a +buff brigandine, quilted and dagger-proof, and caught at the waist by a girdle +of hammered steel; my wine-coloured hose was stout and serviceable, as were my +long boots of untanned leather. Yet prouder was I of this sober apparel than +ever king of his ermine. +</p> + +<p> +It may have been an hour or so past noon when, at last, my solitude was invaded +by a soldier who came to order me into the presence of the Governor. I had been +sitting at the window, leaning against the bars and looking out at the desolate +white landscape, for there had been a heavy fall of snow in the night, which +reminded me—as snow ever did—of my first meeting with Madonna +Paola. +</p> + +<p> +I rose upon the instant, and my fears rose with me. But I kept a bold front as +I went down into the hall, where Ramiro and the blackguards of his Court were +sitting, with three or four men-at-arms at attention by the door. Close to the +pulleys appertaining to the torture of the cord stood two leather-clad +ruffians—Ramiro’s executioners. +</p> + +<p> +At the head of the board, which was still strewn with fragments of food-for +they had but dined—sat Ramiro del’ Orca. With him were half a dozen +of his officers, whose villainous appearance pronounced them worthy of their +brutal leader. The air was heavy with the pungent odour of viands. I looked +round for Mariani, and I took some comfort from the fact that he was absent. +Might heaven please that he was even then on his way to Faenza. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro watched my advance with a smile in which mockery was blent with +satisfaction, for all that of the resumption of my proper raiment he seemed to +take no heed. No doubt he had dined well, and he was now disposing himself to +be amused. +</p> + +<p> +“Messer Bocadaro,” said he, when I had come to a standstill, +“there was last night a matter that was not cleared up between us and +concerning which I expressed an intention of questioning you to-day. I should +proceed to do so at once, were it not that there is yet another matter on which +I am, if possible, still more desirous you should tell us all you know. Once +already have you evaded my questions with answers which at the time I half +believed. Even now I do not say that I utterly disbelieve them, but I wish to +assure myself that you told the truth; for if you lied, why then we may still +be assisted by such information the cord shall squeeze from you. I am referring +to the mysterious disappearance of Madonna Paola di Santafior—a +disappearance of which you have assured me that you knew nothing, being even in +ignorance of the fact that the lady was not really dead. I had confidently +expected that the party searching for Madonna Paola would have succeeded ere +this in finding her. But this morning my hopes suffered disappointment. My men +have returned empty-handed once more.” +</p> + +<p> +“For which mercy may Heaven be praised!” I burst out. +</p> + +<p> +He scowled at me; then he laughed evilly. +</p> + +<p> +“My men have returned—all save three. Captain Lucagnolo with two of +his followers, has undertaken to go beyond the area I appointed for the search, +and to proceed to the village of Cattolica. While he is pursuing his inquiries +there, I have resolved to pursue my own here. I now call upon you, Boccadoro, +to tell us what you know of Madonna Paola’s whereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing,” I answered stoutly. “I am prepared to take +oath that I know nothing of her whereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, then, at least,” said he, “where you bestowed +her.” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head, pressing my lips tight. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that I would tell you if I had the knowledge?” was +the scornful question with which I answered him. “You may pursue your +inquiries as you will and where you will, but I pray God they may all prove as +futile as must those that you would pursue here and upon my own person.” +</p> + +<p> +This was how I fenced with him, this was the manner in which I followed +Mariani’s sound advice that I should temporise! Oh! I know that my words +were the words of a fool, yet no fear that Ramiro would inspire me could have +restrained them. +</p> + +<p> +There was a murmur at the table, and his fellows turned their eyes on Ramiro to +see how he would receive this bearding. He smiled quietly, and raising his hand +he made a sign to the executioners. +</p> + +<p> +Rude hands seized me from behind, and the doublet was torn from my back by +fingers that never paused to untruss my points. +</p> + +<p> +They turned me about, and hurried me along until I stood under the pulleys of +the torture, and one of the men held me securely whilst the other passed the +cords about my wrists. Then both the executioners stepped back, to be ready to +hoist me at the Governor’s signal. +</p> + +<p> +He delayed it, much as an epicure delays the consumption of a delectable +morsel, heightening by suspense the keen desire of his palate. He watched me +closely, and had my lips quivered or my eyelids fluttered, he would have hailed +with joy such signs of weakness. But I take pride in truthfully writing that I +stood bold and impassively before him, and if I was pale I thank Heaven that +pallor was the habit of my countenance, so that from that he could gather no +satisfaction. And standing there, I gave him back look for look, and waited. +</p> + +<p> +“For the last time, Boccadoro,” he said slowly, attempting by words +to shake a demeanour that was proof against the impending facts of the cord, +“I ask you to remember what must be the consequences of this +stubbornness. If not at the first hoist, why then at the second or the third, +the torture will compel you to disclose what you may know. Would you not be +better advised to speak at once, while your limbs are soundly planted in their +sockets, rather than let yourself be maimed, perhaps for life, ere you will do +so?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a stir of hoofs without. They thundered on the planks of the +drawbridge and clattered on the stones of the courtyard. The thought of Cesare +Borgia rose to my mind. But never did drowning man clutch at a more illusory +straw. Cold reason quenched my hope at once. If the greatest imaginable success +attended Mariani’s journey, the Duke could not reach Cesena before +midnight, and to that it wanted some ten hours at least. Moreover, the company +that came was small to judge by the sound—a half-dozen horses at the +most. +</p> + +<p> +But Ramiro’s attention had been diverted from me by the noise. +Half-turning in his chair, he called to one of the men-at-arms to ascertain who +came. Before the fellow could do his bidding, the door was thrust open and +Lucagnolo appeared on the threshold, jaded and worn with hard riding. +</p> + +<p> +A certain excitement arose in me at sight of him, despite my confidence that he +must be returning empty-handed. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro rose, pushed back his chair and advanced towards the new-comer. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he demanded. “What news?” +</p> + +<p> +“Excellency, the girl is here.” +</p> + +<p> +That answer seemed to turn me into stone, so great was the shock of this sudden +shattering of the confidence that had sustained me. +</p> + +<p> +“My search in the country failing,” pursued the captain, as he came +forward, “I made bold to exceed your orders by pushing my inquiries as +far as the village of Cattolica. There I found her after some little +labour.” +</p> + +<p> +Surely I dreamt. Surely, I told myself, this was not possible. There was some +mistake. Lucagnolo had drought some wench whom he believed to be Madonna Paola. +</p> + +<p> +But even as I was assuring myself of this, the door opened again, and between +two men-at-arms, white as death, her garments stained with mud and all but +reduced to rags, and her eyes wild with a great fear, came my beloved Paola. +</p> + +<p> +With a sound that was as a grunt of satisfaction, Ramiro strode forward to meet +her. But her eyes travelled past him and rested upon me, standing there between +the leather-clad executioners with the cords of the torture pinioning my +wrists, and I saw the anguish deepen in their blue depths. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a> +CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +DOOMED</h2> + +<p> +Across the length of that hall our eyes met—hers and mine—and held +each other’s glances. To me the room and all within it formed an +indistinct and misty picture, from out of which there clearly gleamed my +Paola’s sweet, white face. +</p> + +<p> +All at the table had risen with Ramiro, and now, copying their leader, they +bared their heads in outward token of such respect as certainly would have been +felt by any men less abandoned than were they before so much saintly beauty and +distress. +</p> + +<p> +Lucagnolo had stepped aside, and Ramiro was now bowing low and ceremoniously +before Madonna. His face I could not see, since his back was towards me, but +his tones, as they floated across the hall to where I stood, came laden with +subservience. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, I give praise and thanks to Heaven for this,” said he. +“I was afflicted by the gravest misgivings for your safety, and I am more +than thankful to behold you safe and sound.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a hypocritical flavour of courtliness about his words, and a mincing +of his tones that suggested the efforts of a bull-calf to imitate the warbling +of a throstle. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna paid him no heed; indeed, she appeared not to have heard him, for her +eyes continued to look past him and at me. At last her lips parted, and +although she scarcely seemed to raise her voice above a whisper, the word +uttered reached my ears across the stillness of the great room, and the word +was “Lazzaro!” +</p> + +<p> +At mention of my name, and at the tone in which it was uttered—a tone +that betrayed same measure of what was in her heart—Ramiro wheeled +sharply in my direction, his brows wrinkling. A certain craftiness he had, for +all that I ever accounted him the dullest-witted clod that ever rose to his +degree of honour. He must have realised how expedient it was that in all he did +he should present himself to Madonna in a favourite light. +</p> + +<p> +“Release him,” he bade the executioners that held me, and in an +instant I was set free. The order given, he turned again to Madonna. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been torturing him,” she cried, and her words were hard +and fierce, her eyes blazing. “You shall repent it, Ser Ramiro. The Lord +Cesare Borgia shall hear of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Her anger betrayed her more and more, and however hidden it may have been to +her, to me it was exceeding clear that she was encompassing my destruction. +Ramiro laughed easily. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, you are at fault. We have not been torturing him, though I +confess that we were on the point of putting him to the question. But your +timely arrival has saved his limbs, for the question we were asking him +concerned your whereabouts!” +</p> + +<p> +I would have shouted to her to be wary how she answered him, for some +premonition how he was about to trick her entered my mind. But realising the +futility of such a course, I held my peace and waited agonisedly. +</p> + +<p> +“You had tortured him in vain then,” she answered scornfully. +“For Lazzaro Biancomonte would never have betrayed me. Nor could he have +betrayed me if he would, for after your men had searched the hut in which I was +hidden, I walked to Cattolica thinking foolishly that I should be safer +there.” +</p> + +<p> +Lackaday! She had told him the very thing he had sought to know. Yet to make +doubly sure he pursued the scent a little farther. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed it seems to me that had I tortured him I had given him no more +than he deserved for having abandoned you in that hut. Madonna, I tremble to +think of the harm that might have come to you through that knave’s +desertion.” And he scowled across at me, much as the Pharisee might have +scowled upon the publican. +</p> + +<p> +“He is no knave,” she answered, and I could have groaned to hear +her working my undoing, though not by so much as a sign might I inspire her +with caution, for that sign must have been seen by others. “Nor did he +abandon me. He left me only to go in quest of the necessaries for our journey. +If harm has come to me the blame of it must not rest on him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what harm do you speak, Madonna?” he cried, in a voice laden +with concern. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what harm,” she echoed, eyeing him with a scorn that would have +slain him had he any manhood left. “Of what harm? Mother of Mercy, defend +me! Do you ask the question? What greater harm could have come to me than to +have fallen into the hands of Ramiro del’ Orca and his brigands?” +</p> + +<p> +He stood looking at her, and I doubt not that his face was a very picture of +simulated consternation. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Madonna, you do not understand that we are your friends, that +you can so abuse us. But you will be faint, Madonna,” he cried, with a +fresh and deep solicitude. “A cup of wine.” And he waved his hand +towards the table. +</p> + +<p> +“It would poison me, I think,” she answered coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“You are cruel, and—alas!—mistrustful,” said he. +“Can you guess nothing of the anxiety that has been mine these two days, +of the fears that have haunted me as I thought of you and your +wanderings?” +</p> + +<p> +Her lip curled, and her face took on some slight vestige of colour. Her spirit +was a thing for which I might then have come to love her had it not been that +already I loved her to distraction. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said she, “I can guess something of your dismay when +you found your schemes frustrated; when you found that you had come too late to +San Domenico.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you not forgive me that shift to which my adoration drove +me?” he implored, in a honeyed voice—and a more fearful thing than +Ramiro the butcher was Ramiro the lover. +</p> + +<p> +At that scarcely covert avowal of his passion she recoiled a step as she might +before a thing unclean. The little colour faded from her cheek, the scorn +departed from her lip, and a sickly, deadly fear overspread her lovely face. +God! that I should stand there and witness this insult to the woman I adored +and worshipped with a fervour that the Church seeks to instil into us for those +about the throne of Heaven. It might not be. A blind access of fury took me. Of +the consequences I thought nothing. Reason left me utterly, and the slight hope +that might lie in temporising was disregarded. +</p> + +<p> +Before those about me could guess my purpose, or those others, too engrossed in +the scene at the far end of the hall, could intervene, I had sprung from +between the executioners and dashed across the space that separated me from the +Governor of Cesena. One well-aimed blow, and there should be an end to Messer +Ramiro. That was the only thought that found room in my disordered mind. +</p> + +<p> +One or two there were who cried out as I sped past them, swift as the hound +when it speeds after the fleeing hare. But I was upon Ramiro ere any could have +sufficiently mastered his surprise to interfere. +</p> + +<p> +By the nape of his great neck I caught him from behind, and setting my knee at +his spine I wrenched him backward, and so flung him over on the floor. Down I +went with him, my hand reaching for the dagger at his jewelled girdle, and I +had found and drawn it in that swift action of mine ere he had bethought him of +his hands. Up it flashed and down. I sank it through the crimson velvet of his +rich doublets straight at the spot where his heart should be—if he were +so human as to have a heart. The next instant I turned cold and sick. My +desperate effort had been all for nothing. In my hand I was left with the +bronze hilt of his great poniard; the blade had broken off against the mesh of +steel the coward wore beneath his finery. +</p> + +<p> +There was a rush of feet about us, a piercing scream from Madonna Paola, and it +was to her that I owed my life in that grim moment. A dozen blades were naked +and would have transfixed me as I lay, but that she covered my body with her +own and bade them strike at me through her. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later and the powerful hands of the Governor of Cesena were at my +throat. I was lifted and tossed aside, as though I had been a hound and he the +bull I had beset. And as he swung me over and crushed me to the ground, he +knelt above me and grinned horribly into my purpling face. +</p> + +<p> +A second we stayed so, and I thought indeed that my hour was come, when +suddenly I felt the blood in my head released once more. He had taken his hands +from my throat. He seized me now by the collar and dragged me rudely to my +feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this knave and lock him in his chamber,” he bade a couple of +his bravi. “I may have need of him ere he dies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Messer Ramiro,” came the interceding voice of Madonna Paola, +“what he did, he did for me. You will not let him die for it?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause during which he looked at her, whilst the men were roughly +dragging me across the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows, Madonna?” he said, with a bow and an infernal smile. +“If you were to beg his life, it might even come to pass that I might +spare it.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not wait for her answer, but stepping after me he called to the men that +led me. In obedience they halted, and he came forward. We were now at the foot +of the staircase. +</p> + +<p> +“Boccadoro,” said he, planting himself before me, and eyeing me +with eyes that were very full of malice, “you will recall the punishment +I promised you if I came to discover it was you had thwarted me in Pesaro. It +is the second time you have fooled Ramiro del’ Orca. There does not live +the man who can boast that he did it thrice, nor will I risk it that you be +that man. Make your peace with Heaven, for at sunset—in an hour’s +time—you hang. There is one little thing that might save you even yet, +and if you find life sweet, you would do well to pray that that little thing +may come to pass.” +</p> + +<p> +I answered him nothing, but I bowed my head in token that I had heard and he +signed to the men to proceed with me, whilst turning on his heel he stepped +down the hall again to where Madonna Paola, overcome with weakness, had sunk +upon a stool. +</p> + +<p> +As I was leaving the gallery I had a last glimpse of her, sitting there with +drawn face and haggard eyes that followed me as I passed from her sight, whilst +Ramiro del’ Orca stood beside her murmuring words that did not reach me. +His so-called courtiers and his men-at-arms were trooping out of the room, no +doubt in obedience to his dismissal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a> +CHAPTER XX.<br /> +THE SUNSET</h2> + +<p> +I have heard tell of the calm that comes upon brave men when hope is dead and +their doom has been pronounced. Uncertainty may have tortured and made cowards +of them; but once that uncertainty is dissolved and suspense is at an end, +resignation enters their soul, and, possessing it, gives to their bearing a +noble and dignified peace. By the mercy of Heaven they are made, maybe, to see +how poor and evanescent a thing is life; and they come to realise that since to +die is a necessity there is no avoiding, as well might it betide to-day as ten +years hence. +</p> + +<p> +Such a mood, however, came not to soothe that last hour of mine, and yet I +account myself no coward. It was an hour of such torture and anguish as never +before I had experienced—much though I had undergone—and the source +of all my suffering lay in the fact that Madonna Paola was in the hands of the +ogre of Cesena. Had it not been for that most untoward circumstance I almost +believe that while I waited for the sun to set on that December afternoon, my +mood had not only been calm but even in some measure joyous, for it must have +comforted my last moments to reflect that for all that Messer Ramiro was about +to hang me, yet had I sown the seeds of his own destruction ere he had brought +me to this pass. +</p> + +<p> +I did, indeed, reflect upon it, and it may even be that, in spite of all, I +culled some grain of comfort from the reflection. But let that be. My narrative +would drag wearily were I to digress that I might tell you at length the ugly +course of my thoughts whilst the sands of my last hour were running swiftly +out. For, after all, my concern and yours is with the story of Lazzaro +Biancomonte, sometime known as Boccadoro the Fool, and not with his +philosophies—philosophies so unprofitable that it can benefit no man that +I should set them down. +</p> + +<p> +My windows faced west, and so I was able to watch the fall of the sun, and +measure by its shortening distance from the horizon the ebbing of my poor life. +At last the nether rim of that round, fiery orb was on the point of touching +the line of distant hills, and it was casting a crimson glow along the white, +snow-sheeted landscape that was singularly suggestive of a tide of +blood—a very fitting tide to flow and ebb about the walls of the Castle +of Cesena. +</p> + +<p> +One little thing there was might save me, Ramiro had said. But I had shut the +thought out of my mind to keep me from utter distraction. The only little thing +in which I held that my salvation could lie would be in the miraculous arrival +of Cesare Borgia, and of that not the faintest hope existed. If the greatest +luck attended Mariani’s errand and the greatest speed were made by the +Duke once he received the letter, he could not reach Cesena in less than +another eight hours. And another eight minutes, to reckon by the swift sinking +of the sun would see the time appointed for my hanging. I thought of Joshua in +that grim hour, and in a mood that approached the whimsical I envied him his +gift. If I could have stayed the setting of the sun, and held it where it was +till midnight, all might yet be well if Mariani had been diligent and Cesare +swift. +</p> + +<p> +The key grating in the lock put an end to my vague musings, and reminded me of +the fact that I had neglected to employ that last hour as would have become a +good son of Mother Church. For an instant I believe that my heart turned me to +thoughts of God, and sent up a prayer for mercy for my poor sinful soul. Then +the door swung wide. Two halberdiers and a carnifex in his odious leathern +apron stood before me. Clearly Ramiro sought to be exact, and to have me +hanging the instant the sun should vanish. +</p> + +<p> +“It is time,” said one of the soldiers, whilst the executioner, +stepping into my chamber, pinioned my wrists behind me, and retaining hold of +the cord bade me march. He followed, holding that slender cord, and so, like a +beast to the shambles, went I. +</p> + +<p> +Once more they led me into the hall, where the shadows were lengthening in dark +contrast to the splashes of sunlight that lingered on the floor, and whose +blood-red hue was deepened by the gules of the windows through which it was +filtered. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro was waiting for me, and six of his officers were in attendance. But, for +once, there were no men-at-arms at hand. On a chair, the one usually occupied +by Ramiro, himself, sat Madonna Paola, still in her torn and bedraggled +raiment, her face white, her eyes wild as they had been when first she had been +haled into Ramiro’s presence, some two hours ago, and her features so +rigidly composed that it told the tale of the awful self-control she must be +exerting—a self-control that might end with a sudden snap that would +plunge her into madness. +</p> + +<p> +A wild rage possessed me at sight of her. Let Ramiro be ruthless and cruel +where men were concerned; that was a thing for which forgiveness might be found +him. But that he should submit a lady, delicately nurtured as was Madonna, to +such horrors as she had undergone since she had awakened from his +sleeping-potion in the Church of San Domenico, was something for which no Hell +could punish him condignly. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro met me with a countenance through the assumed gravity of which I could +espy his wicked, infernal mockery peeping forth. +</p> + +<p> +“I deplore your end, Lazzaro Biancomonte,” said he slowly, +“for you are a brave man, and brave men are rare. You were worthy of +better things, but you chose to cross swords with Ramiro del’ Orca, and +you have got your death-blow. May God have mercy on your soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am praying,” said I, “for just so much mercy as you shall +have justice. If my prayer is heard, I should be well-content.” +</p> + +<p> +He changed countenance a little. So, too, I thought, did Madonna Paola. My +firmness may have yielded her some grain of comfort. Ramiro set his hands on +his hips, and eyed me squarely. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a dauntless rogue,” he confessed. +</p> + +<p> +I laughed for answer, and in that moment it entered my mind that I might yet +enjoy some measure of revenge in this life. More than that, I might benefit +Madonna. For were the seed I was about to sow to take root in the craven heart +of Ramiro del’ Orca, it would so fully occupy his mind that he would have +little time to bestow on Paola in the few hours that were left him. But before +I could bethink me of words, he was speaking again. +</p> + +<p> +“I held out to you a slender hope,” said he. “I told you that +there was one little thing might save you. That hope has borne no fruit; the +little thing, I spoke of has not come to pass. It rested with Madonna Paola, +here. She had it in her hands to effect your salvation, but she has refused. +Your blood rests on her head.” +</p> + +<p> +She shuddered at the words, and a low moan escaped her. She covered her face +with her hands. A moment I stood looking at her; then I shifted my glance to +Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +“Will it please you, Illustrious, to allow me a few moments’ +conversation with Madonna Paola di Santafior?” +</p> + +<p> +I invested my tones with a weight of meaning that did not escape him. His face +suddenly lightened; whilst one of his officers—a fellow very fitly named +Lupone—laughed outright. +</p> + +<p> +“Your hero seems none so heroic after all,” he said derisively to +the Governor. “The imminence of death makes him amenable.” +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro scowled on him for answer. Then, turning to me—“Do you think +you could bend her stubbornness?” quoth he. +</p> + +<p> +“I might attempt it,” answered I. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes flashed with evil hope; his lips parted in a smile. He shot a glance +at Madonna, who had withdrawn her hands from her face and was regarding me now +with a strange expression of horror and incredulity—marvelling, no doubt, +to find me such a craven as I must have seemed. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro looked at the diminishing sunlight on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“In some five minutes the sun will have completely set,” said he. +“Those five minutes you shall have to seek to enlist Madonna’s aid +on your behalf. If you succeed—and she may tell you on what terms you are +to have your life—you shall depart from Cesena to-night a free +man.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment, and his eyes, lighted by an odious smile, rested once more +on Madonna Paula. Then he bade all withdraw, and went with them into an +adjoining chamber, fondly nurturing the hopes that were begotten of his belief +that Lazzaro Biancomonte was a villain. +</p> + +<p> +When we were alone, she and I, I stood a moment where they had left me, my +hands pinioned behind me, and the cord which the executioner had held trailing +the ground like a lambent tail. Then I went slowly forward until I stood close +before her. Her eyes were on my face, still with that same look of unbelief. +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna mia,” said I, “do not for an instant think that it +is my purpose to ask of you any sacrifice that might save my worthless life. +Rather was my purpose in seeking these few moments with you, to strengthen and +encourage you by such news as it is mine to bring.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked now as if she scarcely understood. +</p> + +<p> +“If I will wed him to-night, he has promised that you shall go +free,” she said in a whisper. “He says that he can bring a priest +from the neighbourhood at a moment’s notice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not heed him,” I cried sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not heed him,” said she, more composedly. “If he seeks +to force me, I shall find a way of setting myself free. Dear Mother of Heaven! +death were a sweet and restful thing after all that I have suffered in these +days.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she fell suddenly to weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“Think me not an utter coward, Lazzaro. Willingly would I do this thing +to save so noble a life as yours, did I not think that you must hate me for it. +I was stout and firm in my refusal, confident that you would have had me so. +Was I not right, my poor, poor Lazzaro?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madonna, you were right,” I answered firmly and calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“And you are to die, amor mio,” she murmured passionately. +“You are to die when the promise of happiness seemed held out to us. And +yet, were you to live at the price at which life is offered you, would your +life be endurable? Tell me the truth, Lazzaro; swear it to me. For if life is +the dearer thing to you, why then, you shall have your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Need you ask me, Paola?” questioned I. “Does not your heart +tell you how much easier is death than would be such life as I must lead +hereafter, even if we could trust Ramiro, which we cannot. Be brave, Madonna, +and help me to be brave and to bear thyself with a becoming fortitude. Now +listen to what I have to tell you. Ramiro del’ Orca is a traitor who is +plotting the death of his overlord. Proofs of it are by now in the hands of +Cesare Borgia, and in some seven or eight hours the Duke himself should be here +to put this monster to the question touching these matters. I will say a word +in his ear ere I depart that will fill his mind with a very wholesome fear, and +you will find that during the few hours left him he will have little leisure to +think of you and afflict you with his odious wooing. Be strong, then, for a +little while, for Cesare is coming to set you free.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me now with eyes that were wide open. Suddenly— +</p> + +<p> +“Could we not gain time?” she cried, and in her eagerness she rose +and set her hands upon my shoulders. “Could I not pretend to acquiesce to +his wishes, and so delay your end?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have thought of it,” I answered gloomily, “but the thought +has brought me no hope. Ramiro is not to be trusted. He might tell you that he +sets me free, but he dare not do so; he fears that I may have knowledge of his +dealings with Vitelli, and assuredly he would break faith with us. Again the +coming of the Duke might be delayed. Alas!” I ended in despair, +“there is nothing to be done but to let things run their course.” +</p> + +<p> +There was even more in my mind than I expressed. My mistrust of Ramiro went +further than I had explained, and concerning Madonna more closely than it did +me. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Lazzaro mine,” she still protested, “I will attempt it. +It is, at least, well worth the risk. +</p> + +<p> +“You forget,” said I, “that even when Cesare comes we cannot +say how he will bear himself towards you. You were to have been betrothed to +his cousin, Ignacio. It is a matter upon which he may insist.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me for a moment with anguish in her eyes that turned my misery +into torture. +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro,” she moaned, “was ever woman so beset! I think that +Heaven must have laid some curse upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face was close to mine. I stooped forward and kissed her on her brow. +</p> + +<p> +“May God have you in His keeping, Madonna mia,” I murmured. +“The sun is gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lazzaro!” It was the cry of a breaking heart. Her arms went round +my neck, and in a passion of grief her kisses burned on my lips. +</p> + +<p> +Then the door of the anteroom opened—and I thanked God for the mercy of +that interruption. I whispered a word to her, and in obedience she sprang back, +and sank limp and broken on the chair once again. +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro entered, his men behind him, his face alit with eagerness. There and +then I swamped his hopes. +</p> + +<p> +“The sun is gone, Magnificent,” said I. “You had best get me +hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +His brow darkened, for there was a note of mockery and triumph in my voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You have fooled me, animal,” he cried. His jaw set, and his eyes +continued to regard me with an evil glow. Then he laughed terribly, shrugged +his shoulders, and spoke again. “After all, it shall avail you +little.” He turned to the carnifex. “Federigo, do your work,” +said he, whereupon the fellow stepped behind me, and the halberdiers ranged +themselves one on either side of me again. +</p> + +<p> +“A word ere I go, Messer del’ Orca,” I demanded insolently. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me sharply, wondering, maybe, at the fresh tone I took. +</p> + +<p> +“Say it and begone,” he sullenly permitted me. +</p> + +<p> +I paused a moment to choose fitting words for that portentous death-song of +mine. At length— +</p> + +<p> +“You boasted to me a little while ago,” said I, smiling grimly, +“that the man did not live who had thrice fooled you. That man does live, +for that man am I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” he returned contemptuously, thinking, no doubt, that I +referred to my interview with Madonna Paola. “You may take what pride you +will from such a thought. You are upon the threshold of death.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, but the thought is one that affords me more comfort and joy than +pride. As much comfort and joy as you shall take horror when I tell you in what +manner I have fooled you.” I paused to heighten the sensation of my +words. +</p> + +<p> +“To such good purpose have I used my wits that ere another sun shall rise +and set you will have followed me along the black road that I am now +treading—the road whose bourne is the gallows. Bethink you of the charred +paper that last night you brushed from this table when you awoke to find a +candle fallen on the treacherous letter Vitellozzo Vitelli sent you in the +lining of a hat.” +</p> + +<p> +His jaw fell, his face flamed redder than ever for a second, then it went grey +as ashes. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what do you prate, fool?” he questioned huskily, seeking to +bluster it before the startled glances of his officers. +</p> + +<p> +“I speak,” said I, “of that charred paper. It was I who laid +the candle across it; but it was a virgin sheet I burned. Vitelli’s +letter I had first abstracted.” +</p> + +<p> +“You lie!” he almost screamed. +</p> + +<p> +“To prove that I do not, I will tell you what it contained. It held proof +that bribed by the Tyrant of Citta di Castello you had undertaken to pose an +arbalister to slay the Duke on the occasion of his coming visit to +Cesena.” +</p> + +<p> +He glared at me a moment in furious amazement. Then he turned to his officers. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not heed him,” he bade them. “The dog lies to sow doubts +in your minds ere he goes out to hang. It is a puerile revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +I laughed with amused confidence. There was one among them had heard +Lampugnani’s words touching the messenger’s hat—words that +had cost the fellow his life. But my concern was little with the effect my +words might produce upon his followers. +</p> + +<p> +“By to-morrow you will know whether I have lied or not. Nay, before then +shall you know it, for by midnight Cesare Borgia should be at Cesena. +Vitellozzo Vitelli’s letter is in his hands by now.” +</p> + +<p> +At that Ramiro burst into a laugh. So convinced was he of the impossibility of +my having got the letter to the Duke, even if what I had said of its +abstraction were true, that he gathered assurance from what seemed to him so +monstrous an exaggeration. +</p> + +<p> +“By your own words are you confounded,” said he. “Out of your +own mouth have you proven your lies. Assuming that all you say were true, how +could you, who since last night have been a prisoner, have got a messenger to +bear anything from you to Cesare Borgia?” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him with a contemptuous amusement that daunted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mariani?” I asked quietly. “Where is the father of +the lad you so brutally and wantonly slew yesternight? Seek him throughout +Cesena, and when you find him not, perhaps you will realise that one who had +seen his own son suffer such an outrageous and cruel death at your +brigand’s hands would be a willing and ready instrument in an act that +should avenge him.” +</p> + +<p> +Vergine santa! What a consternation was his. He must have missed Mariani early +in the day, for he took no measure, asked no questions that might confirm or +refute the thing I announced. His face grew livid, and his knees loosened. He +sank on to a chair and mopped the cold sweat from his brow with his great brown +hand. No thought had he now for the eyes of his officers or their opinions. +Fear, icy and horrid, such fear as in his time he had inspired in a thousand +hearts was now possessed of his. Sweet indeed was the flavour of my vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +His officers instinctively drew away from him before the guilt so clearly +written on his face, and their eyes were full of doubt as to how they should +proceed and of some fear—for it must have been passing through their +minds that they stood, themselves, in danger of being involved with him in the +Duke’s punishment of his disloyalty. +</p> + +<p> +This was more than had ever entered into my calculations or found room in my +hopes. By a brisk appeal to them, it almost seemed that I might work my +salvation in this eleventh hour. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna watched the scene with eyes that suggested to me that the same hope had +arisen in her own mind. My halberdiers and the carnifex alone stood stolidly +indifferent. Ramiro was to them the man that hired them; with his intriguing +they had no concern. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment or two there was a silence, and Ramiro sat staring before him, his +white face glistening with the sweat of fear. A very coward at heart was this +overbearing ogre of Cesena, who for years had been the terror and scourge of +the countryside. At last he mastered his emotion and sprang to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You have had the laugh of me,” he snarled, fury now ringing in his +voice. “But ere you die you may regret it that you mocked me.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned to the executioner. +</p> + +<p> +“Strip him,” he commanded fiercely. “He shall not hang as I +intended—at least not before we have torn every bone of his body from its +socket. To the cord with him!” And he pointed to the torture at the end +of the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The executioner made shift to obey him when suddenly Madonna Paola leapt to her +feet, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with a new excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there none here,” he cried, appealing to Ramiro’s +officers, “that will draw his sword in the service of his overlord, the +Duca Valentino? There stands a traitor, and there one who has proven his +loyalty to Cesare Borgia. The Duke is likely to demand a heavy price for the +life of that faithful one to whose warning he owes his escape of assassination. +Will none of you side now with the right that anon you may stand well with +Cesare Borgia when he comes? Or, by idly allowing this traitor to have his way, +will you participate in the punishment that must be his?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the very spur they needed. And scarce was that final question of hers +flung at those knaves, when the answer came from one of them. It was that same +sturdy Lupone. +</p> + +<p> +“I, for one, am for the Duke,” said he, and his sword leapt from +its scabbard. “I draw my iron for Valentino. Let every loyal man do +likewise and seize this traitor.” And with his sword he pointed at +Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant three others bared their weapons and ranged themselves beside +him. The remaining two—of whom was Lucagnolo—folded their hands, +manifesting by that impassivity that they were minded to take neither one side +nor the other. +</p> + +<p> +The carnifex paused in his labours of undressing me, and the affair promised to +grow interesting. But Ramiro did not stand his ground. Fury swelling his veins +and crimsoning his huge face, he sprang to the door and bellowed to his guards. +Six men trooped in almost at once, and reinforced by the halberdiers that had +been guarding me, they made short work of the resistance of those four +officers. In as little time as it takes me to record it, they were disarmed and +ranged against the wall behind those guards and others that had come to their +support—to be dealt with by Ramiro after he had dealt with me. +</p> + +<p> +His fear of Cesare’s coming was put by for the moment in his fierce lust +to be avenged upon me who had betrayed him and the officers who had turned +against him. Madonna sank back once more in her despair. The little spark that +she had so bravely fanned to life had been quenched almost as soon as it had +shown itself. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Federigo,” said Ramiro grimly, “I am waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +The executioner resumed his work, and in an instant I stood stripped of my +brigandine. As the fellow led me, unresisting, to the torture—for what +resistance could have availed me now?—I tried to pray for strength to +endure what was to come. I was done with life; for some portion of an hour I +must go through the cruellest of agonies; and then, when it pleased God in His +mercy that I should swoon, it would be to wake no more in this world. For they +would bear out my unconscious body, and hang it by the neck from that black +beam they called Ramiro del’ Orca’s flagstaff. +</p> + +<p> +I cast a last glance at Madonna. She had fallen on her knees, and with folded +hands was praying intently, none heeding her. +</p> + +<p> +Federigo halted me beneath the pulleys, and his horrid hands grew busy +adjusting the ropes to my wrists. +</p> + +<p> +And then, when the last ray of hope had faded, but before the executioner had +completed his hideous task, a trumpet-blast, winding a challenge to the gates +of the Castle of Cesena, suddenly rang out upon the evening air, and startled +us all by its sudden and imperious note. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"></a> +CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +AVE CAESAR!</h2> + +<p> +For just an instant I allowed myself to be tortured by the hope that a miracle +had happened, and here was Cesare Borgia come a good eight hours before it was +possible for Mariani to have fetched him from Faenza. The same doubt may have +crossed Ramiro’s mind, for he changed colour and sprang to the door to +bawl an order forbidding his men to lower the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +But he was too late. Before he was answered by his followers, we heard the +creaking of the hinges and the rattle of the running chains, ending in a thud +that told us the drawbridge had dropped across the moat. Then came the loud +continuous thunder of many hoofs upon its timbers. Paralysed by fear Ramiro +stood where he had halted, turning his eyes wildly in this direction and in +that, but never moving one way or the other. +</p> + +<p> +It must be Cesare, I swore to myself. Who else could ride to Cessna with such +numbers? But then, if it was Cesare, it could not be that he had seen Mariani, +for he could not have ridden from Faenza. Madonna had risen too, and with a +white face and straining eyes she was looking towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +And then our doubts were at last ended. There was a jangle of spurs and the +fall of feet, and through the open door stepped a straight, martial figure in a +doublet of deep crimson velvet, trimmed with costly lynx furs and slashed with +satin in the sleeves and shoulder-puffs; jewels gleamed in the massive chain +across his breast and at the marroquin girdle that carried his bronze-hilted +sword; his hose was of red silk, and his great black boots were armed with +golden spurs. But to crown all this very regal splendour was the beautiful, +pale, cold face of Cesare Borgia, from out of which two black eyes flashed and +played like sword-points on the company. +</p> + +<p> +Behind him surged a press of mercenaries, in steel, their weapons naked in +their hands, so that no doubt was left of the character of this visit. +</p> + +<p> +Collecting himself, and bethinking him that after all, he had best dissemble a +good countenance; Ramiro advanced respectfully to meet his overlord. But ere he +had taken three steps the Duke stayed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand where you are, traitor,” was the imperious command. +“I’ll trust you no nearer to my person.” And to emphasise his +words he raised his gloved left hand, which had been resting on his sword-hilt, +and in which I now observed that he held a paper. +</p> + +<p> +Whether Ramiro recognised it, or whether it was that the mere sight of a paper +reminded him of the letter which on my testimony should be in Cesare’s +keeping, or whether again the word “traitor” with which Cesare +branded him drove the iron deeper into his soul, I cannot say; but to this I +can testify: that he turned a livid green, and stood there before his +formidable master in an attitude so stricken as to have aroused pity for any +man less a villain than was he. +</p> + +<p> +And now Cesare’s eye, travelling round, alighted on Madonna Paola, +standing back in the shadows to which she had instinctively withdrawn at his +coming. At sight of her he recoiled a pace, deeming, no doubt, that it was an +apparition stood before him. Then he looked again, and being a man whose mind +was above puerile superstitions, he assured himself that by what miracle the +thing was wrought, the figure before him was the living body of Madonna Paola +Sforza di Santafior. He swept the velvet cap with its jewelled plume from off +his auburn locks, and bowed low before her. +</p> + +<p> +“In God’s name, Madonna, how are you come to life again, and how do +I find you here of all places?” +</p> + +<p> +She made no ado about enlightening him. +</p> + +<p> +“That villain,” said she, and her finger pointed straight and +firmly at Ramiro, “put a sleeping-potion in my wine on the last night he +dined with us at Pesaro, and when all thought me dead he came to the Church of +San Domenico with his men to carry off my sleeping body. He would have +succeeded in his fell design but that Lazzaro Biancomonte there, whom you have +stayed him in the act of torturing to death, was beforehand and saved me from +his clutches for a time. This morning at Cattolica his searching sbirri +discovered me and brought me hither, where I have been for the past three +hours, and where, but for your Excellency’s timely arrival, I shudder to +think of the indignities I might have suffered.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Madonna, for this clear succinctness,” answered +Cesare coldly, as was his habit. They say he was a passionate man, and such +indeed I do believe him to have been; but even in the hottest frenzy of rage, +outwardly he was ever the same—icily cold and tranquil. And this, no +doubt, was the thing that made him terrible. +</p> + +<p> +“Presently, Madonna,” he pursued, “I shall ask you to tell me +how it chanced that, having saved you, Messer Biancomonte did not bear you to +your brother’s house. But first I have business with my Governor of +Cesena—a score which is rendered, if possible, heavier than it already +stood by this thing that you have told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” cried out Ramiro, finding his tongue at last, +“Madonna has misinformed you. I know nothing of who administered the +sleeping-potion. Certainly it was not I. I heard a rumour that her body had +been stolen, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” Cesare commanded sternly. “Did I question you, +dog?” +</p> + +<p> +His beautiful, terrible eyes fastened upon Ramiro in a glance that defied the +man to answer him. Cowed, like a hound at sight of the whip, Ramiro whimpered +into silence. +</p> + +<p> +Cesare waved his hand in his direction, half-turning to the men-at-arms behind +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Take and disarm him,” was his passionless command. And while they +were doing his bidding, he turned to me and ordered the executioner beside me +to unbind my hands and set me at liberty. +</p> + +<p> +“I owe you a heavy debt, Messer Biancomonte,” he said, without any +warmth, even now that his voice was laden with a message of gratitude. +“It shall be discharged. It is thanks to your daring and resource that +the seneschal Mariani was able to bring me this letter, this piece of +culminating proof against Ramiro del’ Orca. It is fortunate for you that +Mariani was not put to it to ride to Faenza to find me, or else I am afraid we +had not reached Cesena in time to save your life. I met him some leagues this +side of Faenza, as I was on my way to Sinigaglia.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned abruptly to Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +“In this letter which Vitelli wrote you,” said he, “it is +suggested that there are others in the conspiracy. Tell me now, who are those +others? See that you answer me with truth, for I shall compel proofs from you +of such accusations as you may make.” +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro looked at him with eyes rendered dull by agony. He moistened his lips +with his tongue, and turning his head towards his men— +</p> + +<p> +“Wine,” he gasped, from very force of habit. “A cup of +wine!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be supplied him,” said Cesare coldly, and we all stood +waiting while a servant filled him a cup. Ramiro gulped the wine avidly, never +pausing until the goblet was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Cesare, who had been watching him, “will it +please you to answer my question?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Ramiro, revived and strengthened in spirit by the +draught, “I must ask your Excellency to be a little plainer with me. To +what conspiracy is it that you refer? I know of none. What is this letter which +you say Vitelli wrote me? I take it you refer to the Lord of Citta di Castello. +But I can recall no letters passing between us. My acquaintance with him is of +the slightest.” +</p> + +<p> +Cesare looked at him a second. +</p> + +<p> +“Approach,” he curtly bade him, and Ramiro came forward, one of the +Borgia halberdiers on either side of him, each holding him by an arm. The Duke +thrust the letter under his eyes. “Have you never seen that +before?” +</p> + +<p> +Ramiro looked at it a moment, and his attempt at dissembling bewilderment was a +ludicrous thing to witness. +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” he said brazenly at last. +</p> + +<p> +Cesare folded the letter and slipped it into the breast of his doublet. From +his girdle he took a second paper. He turned from Ramiro. +</p> + +<p> +“Don Miguel,” he called. +</p> + +<p> +From behind his men-at-arms a tall man, all dressed in black, stood forward. It +was Cesare’s Spanish captain, one whose name was as well known and as +well-dreaded in Italy as Cesare’s own. The Duke held out to him the paper +that he had produced. +</p> + +<p> +“You heard the question that I asked Messer del’ Orca?” he +inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard, Illustrious,” answered Miguel, with a bow. +</p> + +<p> +“See that you obtain me an answer to it, as well as an account of the +other matters that I have noted on this list—concerning the +misappropriation of stores, the retention of taxes illicitly levied, and the +wanton cruelty towards my good citizens of Cesena. Put him to the question +without delay, and record me his replies. The implements are yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +And with the same calm indifference which characterised his every word and +action Cesare pointed to the torture, and turned to Madonna Paola, as though he +gave the matter of Ramiro del’ Orca and his misdeeds not another thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy, my lord,” rang now the voice of Ramiro, laden with horrid +fear. “I will speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do so—to Don Miguel. He will question you in my name.” +Again he turned to Madonna. “Madonna Paola, may I conduct you hence? +Things may perhaps occur which it is not seemly your gentle eyes should +witness. Messer Biancomonte, attend us.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, in spite of all that Ramiro had made me suffer, I should have been loath +to have remained and witnessed his examination. That they would torture him was +now inevitable. His chance of answering freely was gone. Even if he returned +meek replies to Don Miguel’s questions, that gentleman would, no doubt, +still submit him to the cord by way of assuring himself that such replies were +true ones. +</p> + +<p> +Gladly, then, did I turn to follow the Duke and Madonna Paola into the +adjoining chamber to which Cesare led the way, even as Don Miguel’s voice +was raised to command his men to clear the hall, to the end that he might +conduct his examination in private. +</p> + +<p> +The three of us stood in the anteroom. A servant had lighted the tapers and +closed the doors, and the Duke turned to me. +</p> + +<p> +“First, Messer Biancomonte, to discharge my debt. You are, if I am not +misinformed, the lord by right of birth of certain lands that bear your name, +which suffered sequestration during the reign of the late Costanzo, Tyrant of +Pesaro, whose son Giovanni upheld that confiscation. Am I right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency is very well informed. The Lord of Pesaro did make me +tardy restitution—so tardy, indeed, that the lands which he restored to +me had already virtually passed from his possession.” +</p> + +<p> +Cesare smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“In recompense for the service you have rendered me this day,” said +he, and my heart thrilled at the words and at the thought of the joy which I +was about to bear to my old mother, “I reinvest you in your lands of +Biancomonte for so long as you are content to recognise in me your overlord, +and to be loyal, true and faithful to my rule.” +</p> + +<p> +I bowed, murmuring something of the joy I felt and the devotion I should +entertain. +</p> + +<p> +“Then that is done with. You shall have the deed from my hand by morning. +And now, Madonna, will you grant me some explanation of your conduct in leaving +Pesaro in this man’s company, instead of repairing to your +brother’s house, when you awakened from the effects of the potion Ramiro +gave you, or must I seek the explanation from Messer Biancomonte?” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes fell before the scrutiny of his, and when they were raised again it +was to meet my glance, and if Cesare could not, for himself, read the message +of those eyes, why then, his penetration was by no means what the world +accounted it. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” I cried, “let me explain. I love Madonna Paola. It +was love of her that led me to the church and kept me there that night. It was +love of her and the overmastering passion of my grief at her so sudden death +that led me, in a madness, to desire once more to look upon her face ere they +delivered it to earth’s keeping. Thus was it that I came to discover that +she lived; thus was it that I anticipated Ramiro del’ Orca. He came upon +us almost before I had raised her from the coffin, yet love lent me strength +and craft to delude him. We hid awhile in the sacristy, and it was there, after +Madonna had revived, that the pent-up passion of years burst the bond with +which reason had bidden me restrain it.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the Host!” cried Cesare, his brows drawn down in a frown. +“You are a bold man to tell me this. And you, Madonna,” he cried, +turning suddenly to her, “what have you to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only, my lord, that I have suffered more I think in these past few days +than has ever fallen to the life-time’s share of another woman. I think, +my lord, that I have suffered enough to have earned me a little peace and a +little happiness for the remainder of my days. All my life have men plagued me +with marriages that were hateful to me, and this has culminated in the brutal +act of Ramiro del’ Orca. Do you not think that I have endured +enough?” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you love this fellow?” he gasped. “You, Madonna Paola +Sforza di Santafior, one of the noblest ladies in all Italy, confess to love +this lordling of a few barren acres?” +</p> + +<p> +“I loved him, Illustrious, when he was less, much less, than that. I +loved him when he was little better than the Fool of the Court of Pesaro, and +not even the shame of the motley that disgraced him could stay the impulse of +my affections.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“By my faith,” said he, “I have gone through life complaining +of the want of frankness in the men and women I have met. But you two seem to +deal in it liberally enough to satisfy the most ardent seeker after truth. I +would that Pontius Pilate could have known you.” Then he grew sterner. +“But what account of this evening’s adventure am I to bear to my +cousin Ignacio?” +</p> + +<p> +She hung her head in silence, whilst my own spirit trembled. Then suddenly I +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said I, “if you take her back to Pesaro, you may +keep the deed of Biancomonte. For unless Madonna Paola goes thither with me, +your gift is a barren one, your reward of no account or value to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not have it so,” said he, his head on one side and his +fingers toying with his auburn beard. “You saved my life, and you must be +rewarded fittingly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Illustrious, in payment for my preservation of your life, do you +render happy mine, and we shall thus be quits.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” cried Paola, putting forth her hands in supplication, +“if you have ever loved, befriend us now.” +</p> + +<p> +A shadow darkened his face for an instant, then it was gone, and his expression +was as inscrutable as ever. Yet he took her hands in his and looked down into +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“They say that I am hard, bloodthirsty and unfeeling,” he said in +tones that were almost of complaint. “But I am not proof against so much +appeal. Ignacio must find him a bride in Spain; and if he is wise and would +taste the sweets of life, he will see to it that he finds him a willing +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“As for you two, Cesare Borgia shalt stand your friend. He owes you no +less. I will be godfather to your nuptials. Thus shall the blame and +consequences rest on me. Paola Sforza di Santafior is dead, men think. We will +leave them thinking it. Filippo must know the truth. But you can trust me to +make your brother take a reasonable view of what has come to pass. After all, +there may be a disparity in your ranks. But it is purely adventitious, for +noble though you may be, Madonna Paola, you are wedding one who seems no less +noble at heart, whatever the parts he may have played in life.” He smiled +inscrutably, as he added: “I have in mind that you once sought service +with me Messer Biancomonte, and if a martial life allures you still, I’ll +make you lord of something better far than Biancomonte.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him, and Madonna joined me in that expression of gratitude—an +expression that fell very short of all that was in our hearts. But touching +that offer of his that I should follow his fortunes, I begged him not to +insist. +</p> + +<p> +“The possession of Biancomonte has from my cradle been the goal of all my +hopes. It is patrimony enough for me, and there, with Madonna Paola, I’ll +take a long farewell of ambition, which is but the seed of discontent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, as you will,” he sighed. And then, before more could be said, +there came from the adjoining room a piercing scream. +</p> + +<p> +Cesare raised his head, and his lips parted in the faintest vestige of a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“They are exacting the truth from the Governor of Cesena,” said he. +“I think, Madonna, that we had better move a little farther off. +Ramiro’s voice makes indifferent music for a lady’s ear.” +</p> + +<p> +She was white as death at the horrid noise and all the things of which it may +have reminded her, and so we passed from the antechamber and sought the more +distant places of the castle. +</p> + +<p> +Here let me pause. We were married on the morrow which was Christmas eve, and +in the grey dawn of the Christmas morning we set out for Biancomonte with the +escort which Cesare Borgia placed at our disposal. +</p> + +<p> +As we rode out from the Citadel of Cesena, we saw the last of Ramiro del’ +Orca. Beyond the gates, in the centre of the public square, a block stood +planted in the snow. On the side nearer the castle there was a dark mass over +which a rich mantle had been thrown; it was of purple colour, and in the +uncertain light it was not easy to tell where the cloak ended, and the stain +that embrued the snow began. On the other side of the block a decapitated head +stood mounted on an upright pike, and the sightless eyes of Ramiro del’ +Orca looked from his grinning face upon the town of Cesena, which he had so +wantonly misruled. +</p> + +<p> +Madonna shuddered and turned her head aside as we rode past that dread emblem +of the Borgia justice. +</p> + +<p> +To efface from her mind the memory of such a thing on such a day, I talked to +her, as we cantered out into the country, of the life to come, of the mother +that waited to welcome us, and of the glad tidings with which we were to +rejoice her on that Christmas day. +</p> + +<p> +There is no moral to my story. I may not end with one of those graceful +admonitions beloved of Messer Boccacci to whom in my jester’s days I owed +so much. Not mine is it to say with him “Wherefore, gentle +ladies”—or “noble sirs—beware of this, avoid that other +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Mine is a plain tale, written in the belief that some account of those old +happenings that befell me may offer you some measure of entertainment, and +written, too, in the support of certain truths which my contemporaries have +been shamefully inclined and simoniacally induced to suppress. Many chroniclers +set forth how the Lord Vitellozzo Vitelli and his associates were barbarously +strangled by Cesare’s orders at Sinigaglia, and wilfully—for I +cannot believe that it results from ignorance—are they silent touching +the reason, leaving you to imagine that it was done in obedience to a +ruthlessness of character beyond parallel, so that you may come to consider +Cesare Borgia as black as they were paid to paint him. +</p> + +<p> +To confute them do I set down these facts of which my knowledge cannot be +called in question, and also that you may know the true story of Paola di +Santafior—and more particularly that part of it which lies beyond the +death she did not die. +</p> + +<p> +The sun of that Christmas day was setting as we drew near to Biancomonte and +the humble dwelling of my old mother. We fell into talk of her once more. +Suddenly Paola turned in her saddle to confront me. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Lord of Biancomonte, will she love me a little, think +you?” she asked, to plague me. +</p> + +<p> +“Who would not love you, Lady of Biancomonte?” counter-questioned +I. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHAME OF MOTLEY ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +</html> |