LOVE-AT-ARMS

Being a narrative excerpted from the chronicles of Urbino during thedominion of the High and Mighty Messer Guidobaldo da Montefeltro

By Raphael Sabatini

 "Le donne, i cavalier', l'arme, gli amori, Le cortesie, l'audace imprese io canto. "

 ARIOSTO

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. VOX POPULI

 II. ON A MOUNTAIN PATH

 III. SACKCLOTH AND MOTLEY

 IV. MONNA VALENTINA

 V. GIAN MARIA

 VI. THE AMOROUS DUKE

 VII. GONZAGA THE INSIDIOUS

 VIII. AMONG THE DREGS OF WINE

 IX. THE "TRATTA DI CORDE"

 X. THE BRAYING OF AN ASS

 XI. WANDERING KNIGHTS

 XII. THE FOOL'S INQUISITIVENESS

 XIII. GIAN MARIA MAKES A VOW

 XIV. FORTEMANI DRINKS WATER

 XV. THE MERCY OF FRANCESCO

 XVI. GONZAGA UNMASKS

 XVII. THE ENEMY

XVIII. TREACHERY

 XIX. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

 XX. THE LOVERS

 XXI. THE PENITENT

 XXII. A REVELATION

XXIII. IN THE ARMOURY TOWER

 XXIV. THE INTERRUPTED MASS

 XXV. THE CAPITULATION OF ROCCALEONE

CHAPTER I. VOX POPULI

From the valley, borne aloft on the wings of the evening breeze, rosefaintly the tolling of an Angelus bell, and in a goat-herd's hut on theheights above stood six men with heads uncovered and bowed, obeyingits summons to evening prayer. A brass lamp, equipped with three beaks, swung from the grimy ceiling, and, with more smoke than flame, shedan indifferent light, and yet a more indifferent smell, throughout thedarkening hovel. But it sufficed at least to reveal in the accoutrementsand trappings of that company a richness that was the more striking bycontrast with the surrounding squalor. 

As the last stroke of the Ave Maria faded on the wind that murmuredplaintively through the larches of the hillside, they piously crossedthemselves, and leisurely resuming their head-gear, they looked at oneanother with questioning glances. Yet before any could voice the inquirythat was in the minds of all, a knock fell upon the rotten timbers ofthe door. 

"At last!" exclaimed old Fabrizio da Lodi, in a voice charged withrelief, whilst a younger man of good shape and gay garments strode tothe door in obedience to Fabrizio's glance, and set it wide. 

Across the threshold stepped a tall figure under a wide, featherlesshat, and wrapped in a cloak which he loosened as he entered, revealingthe very plainest of raiment beneath. A leather hacketon was tightenedat the waist by a girdle of hammered steel, from which depended on hisleft a long sword with ringed, steel quillons, whilst from behind hisright hip peeped the hilt of a stout Pistoja dagger. His hose of redcloth vanished into boots of untanned leather, laced in front and turneddown at the knees, and completed in him the general appearance of amercenary in time of peace, in spite of which the six nobles, in thatplace of paradoxes, bared their heads anew, and stood in attitudes ofdeferential attention. 

He paused a moment to throw off his cloak, of which the young man whohad admitted him hastened to relieve him as readily as if he had beenborn a servitor. He next removed his hat, and allowed it to remainslung from his shoulders, displaying, together with a still youthfulcountenance of surpassing strength and nobility, a mane of jet-blackhair coiffed in a broad net of gold thread--the only article of apparelthat might have suggested his station to be higher than at first hadseemed. 

He stepped briskly to the coarse and grease-stained table, about whichthe company was standing, and his black eyes ran swiftly over the facesthat confronted him. 

"Sirs, " he said at last, "I am here. My horse went lame a half-leaguebeyond Sant' Angelo, and I was constrained to end the journey on foot. "

"Your Excellency will be tired, " cried Fabrizio, with that readysolicitude which is ever at the orders of the great. "A cup of Pugliawine, my lord. Here, Fanfulla, " he called, to the young nobleman who hadacted as usher. But the new-comer silenced him and put the matter asidewith a gesture. 

"Let that wait. Time imports as you little dream. It may well be, illustrious sirs, that had I not come thus I had not come at all. "

"How?" cried one, expressing the wonder that rose in every mind, even ason every countenance some consternation showed. "Are we betrayed?"

"If you are in case to fear betrayal, it may well be, my friends. As Icrossed the bridge over the Metauro and took the path that leads hither, my eyes were caught by a crimson light shining from a tangle of bushesby the roadside. That crimson flame was a reflection of the setting sunflashed from the steel cap of a hidden watcher. The path took me nearer, and with my hat so set that it might best conceal my face, I was alleyes. And as I passed the spot where that spy was ambushed, I discernedamong the leaves that might so well have screened him, but that the sunhad found his helmet out, the evil face of Masuccio Torri. " There was astir among the listeners, and their consternation increased, whilst oneor two changed colour. "For whom did he wait? That was the questionthat I asked myself, and I found the answer that it was for me. If I wasright, he must also know the distance I had come, so that he would notlook to see me afoot, nor yet, perhaps, in garments such as these. And so, thanks to all this and to the hat and cloak in which I closelymasked myself, he let me pass unchallenged. "

"By the Virgin!" exclaimed Fabrizio hotly, "I'll swear your conclusionswere wrong. In all Italy it was known to no man beyond us six that youwere to meet us here, and with my hand upon the Gospels I could swearthat not one of us has breathed of it. "

He looked round at his companions as if inviting them to bear out hiswords, and they were not slow to confirm what he had sworn, in termsas vehement as his own, until in the end the new-comer waved them intosilence. 

"Nor have I breathed it, " he assured them, "for I respected yourinjunction, Messer Fabrizio. Still--what did Masuccio there, hidden likea thief, by the roadside? Sirs, " he continued, in a slightly alteredtone, "I know not to what end you have bidden me hither, but if aught oftreason lurks in your designs, I cry you beware! The Duke has knowledgeof it, or at least, suspicion. If that spy was not set to watch forme, why, then, he was set to watch for all, that he may anon inform hismaster what men were present at this meeting. "

Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders in a contemptuous indifference which wasvoiced by his neighbour Ferrabraccio. 

"Let him be informed, " sneered the latter, a grim smile upon his ruggedface. "The knowledge will come to him too late. "

The new-comer threw back his head, and a look that was half wonder, halfenlightenment gleamed in the black depths of his imperious eyes. He tooka deep breath. 

"It would seem, sirs, that I was right, " said he, with a touch ofsternness, "and that treason is indeed your business. "

"My Lord of Aquila, " Fabrizio answered him, "we are traitors to a manthat we may remain faithful and loyal to a State. "

"What State?" barked the Lord of Aquila contemptuously. 

"The Duchy of Babbiano, " came the answer. 

"You would be false to the Duke that you may be faithful to the Duchy?"he questioned, scorn running ever stronger in his voice. "Sirs, it is ariddle I'll not pretend to solve. "

There fell a pause in which they eyed one another, and their glanceswere almost as the glances of baffled men. They had not looked forsuch a tone from him, and they questioned with their eyes and minds thewisdom of going further. At last, with a half-sigh, Fabrizio da Loditurned once more to Aquila. 

"Lord Count, " he began, in a calm, impressive voice, "I am an old man;the name I bear and the family from which I spring are honourable alike. You cannot think so vilely of me as to opine that in my old age I shoulddo aught to smirch the fair fame of the one or of the other. To be nameda traitor, sir, is to be given a harsh title, and one, I think, thatcould fit no man less than it fits me or any of these my companions. Will you do me the honour, then, to hear me out, Excellency; and whenyou have heard me, judge us. Nay, more than judgment we ask of you, LordCount. We ask for guidance that we may save our country from the ruinthat threatens it, and we promise you that we will take no step that hasnot your sanction--that is not urged by you. "

Francesco del Falco, Count of Aquila, eyed the old noble with a glancethat had changed whilst he spoke, so that from scornful that it hadbeen, it had now grown full of mild wonder and inquiry. He slightlyinclined his head in token of acquiescence. 

"I beg that you will speak, " was all he said, and Fabrizio wouldforthwith have spoken but that Ferrabraccio intervened to demand thatAquila should pass them his knightly word not to betray them in theevent of his rejection of the proposals they had to make. When he hadgiven them his promise, and they had seated themselves upon such rudestools as the place afforded, Fabrizio resumed his office of spokesman, and unfolded the business upon which he had invited the Count amongthem. 

In a brief preamble he touched upon the character of Gian Maria Sforza, the reigning Duke of Babbiano--seated upon its throne by his powerfuluncle, Lodovico Sforza, Lord of Milan. He exposed the man's recklessextravagances, his continued self-indulgence, his carelessness inmatters of statecraft, and his apparent disinclination to fulfil theduties which his high station imposed upon him. On all this Fabriziotouched with most commendable discretion and restraint, as was demandedby the circumstance that in Francesco del Falco he was addressing theDuke's own cousin. 

"So far, Excellency, " he continued, "you cannot be in ignorance of thegeneral dissatisfaction prevailing among our most illustrious cousin'ssubjects. There was the conspiracy of Bacolino, a year ago, which, hadit succeeded, would have cast us into the hands of Florence. It failed, but another such might not fail again. The increased disfavour ofhis Highness may bring more adherents to a fresh conspiracy of thischaracter, and we should be lost as an independent state. And the perilthat menaces us is the peril of being so lost. Not only by defectionof our own, but by the force of arms of another. That other is CaesarBorgia. His dominion is spreading like a plague upon the face of thisItaly, which he has threatened to eat up like an artichoke--leaf byleaf. Already his greedy eyes are turned upon us, and what powerhave we--all unready as we are--wherewith successfully to oppose theoverwhelming might of the Duke of Valentinois? All this his Highnessrealises, for we have made it more than clear to him, as we have, too, made clear the remedy. Yet does he seem as indifferent to his danger asto his salvation. His time is spent in orgies, in dancing, in hawkingand in shameful dalliance, and if we dare throw out a word of warning, threats and curses are the only answer we receive. "

Da Lodi paused, as if growing conscious that his manner was becomingover-vehement. But of this, his companions, at least, were allunconscious, for they filled the pause with a murmur of angryconfirmation. Francesco wrinkled his brow, and sighed. 

"I am--alas!--most fully conscious of this danger you speak of. But--what do you expect of me? Why bear me your grievance? I am nostatesman. "

"Here is no statesman needed, lord. It is a soldier Babbiano requires;a martial spirit to organise an army against the invasion that mustcome--that is coming already. In short, Lord Count, we need such awarrior as are you. What man is there in all Italy--or, indeed, whatwoman or what child--that has not heard of the prowess of the Lord ofAquila? Your knightly deeds in the wars 'twixt Pisa and Florence, yourfeats of arms and generalship in the service of the Venetians, arematters for the making of epic song. "

"Messer Fabrizio!" murmured Paolo, seeking to restrain his eulogisticinterlocutor, what time a faint tinge crept into his bronzed cheeks. ButDa Lodi continued, all unheeding:

"And shall you, my lord, who have borne yourself so valiantly as acondottiero in the service of the stranger, hesitate to employ yourskill and valour against the enemies of your own homeland? Not so, Excellency. We know the patriotic soul of Francesco del Falco, and wecount upon it. "

"And you do well, " he answered firmly. "When the time comes you shallfind me ready. But until then, and touching such preparation as must bemade--why do you not address his Highness as you do me?"

A sad smile crossed the noble face of Lodi, whilst Ferrabraccio laughedoutright in chill contempt, and with characteristic roughness madeanswer:

"Shall we speak to him, " he cried, "of knightly deeds, of prowess, andof valour? I would as lief enjoin Roderigo Borgia to fulfil the sacredduties of his Vicarship; I might as profitably sprinkle incense on adunghill. What we could say to Gian Maria we have said, and since it hadbeen idle to have appealed to him as we have appealed to you, wehave shown him yet another way by which Babbiano might be saved andValentino's onslaught averted. "

"Ah! And this other way?" inquired the Count, his glance wandering backto Fabrizio. 

"An alliance with the house of Urbino, " answered Lodi. "Guidobaldo hastwo nieces. We have sounded him, and we have found him well disposedtowards such a marriage as we suggested. Allied thus to the house ofMontefeltro, we should receive not only assistance from Guidobaldo, but also from the lords of Bologna, Perugia, Camerino, and some smallerstates whose fortunes are linked already to that of Urbino. Thus weshould present to Cesar Borgia a coalition so strong that he would neverdare to bring a lance into our territory. "

"I heard some talk of it, " said Paolo. "It would have been a wise stepindeed. Pity that the negotiations came to naught!"

"But why did they come to naught? Body of Satan!--why?" roared theimpetuous Ferrabraccio, as with his mighty fist he smote the tablea blow that well-nigh shattered it. "Because Gian Maria was not in amarrying mood! The girl we proposed to him was beautiful as an angel;but he would not so much as look. There was a woman in Babbiano who----"

"My lord, " cut in Fabrizio hastily, fearing the lengths to which theother might go, "it is as Ferrabraccio says. His Highness would notmarry. And this it is has led us to invite you to meet us here to-night. His Highness will do nothing to save the Duchy, and so we turn to you. The people are with us; in every street of Babbiano are you spoken ofopenly as the duke they would have govern them and defend their homes. In the sacred name of the people, then, " the old man concluded, rising, and speaking in a voice shaken by emotion, "and with the people'svoice, of which we are but the mouthpiece, we now offer you the crownof Babbiano. Return with us to-night, my lord, and to-morrow, with buttwenty spears for escort, we shall ride into Babbiano and proclaimyou Duke. Nor need you fear the slightest opposition. One man onlyof Babbiano--that same Masuccio whom you tell us that you sawto-night--remains faithful to Gian Maria; faithful because he and thefifty Swiss mercenaries at his heels are paid to be so. Up, my lord!Let your own good sense tell you whether an honest man need scrupleto depose a prince whose throne knows no defence beyond the hiredprotection of fifty foreign spears. "

A silence followed that impassioned speech. Lodi remained standing, the others sat, their eager glances turned upon the Count, their earsanxiously alert for his reply. Thus they remained for a brief spell, Aquila himself so still that he scarcely seemed to breathe. 

He sat, gripping the arms of his chair, his head fallen forward untilhis chin rested on his breast, a frown darkening his lofty brow. Andwhilst they waited for his answer, a mighty battle was fought out withinhis soul. The power so suddenly, so unexpectedly, thrust within hisreach, and offered him if he would but open his hands to grasp it, dazzled him for one little moment. As in a flash he saw himself Lord ofBabbiano. He beheld a proud career of knightly deeds that should causehis name and that of Babbiano to ring throughout the length and breadthof Italy. From the obscure state that it was, his patriotism andhis skill as a condottiero should render it one of the great Italianpowers--the rival of Florence, of Venice or Milan. He had a vision ofwidened territories, and of neighbouring lords becoming vassals to hismight. He saw himself wresting Romagna mile by mile from the sway of theribald Borgia, hunting him to the death as he was wont to hunt the boarin the marshes of Commachio, or driving him into the very Vatican toseek shelter within his father's gates--the last strip of soil that hewould leave him to lord it over. He dreamt of a Babbiano courted by thegreat republics, and the honour of its alliance craved by them that theymight withstand the onslaughts of French and Spaniard. All this he sawin that fleeting vision of his, and Temptation caught his martial spiritin a grip of steel. And then another picture rose before his eyes. Whatwould he do in times of peace? His was a soul that pined in palaces. Hewas born to the camp, and not to the vapid air of courts. In exchangefor this power that was offered him what must he give? His gloriousliberty. Become their lord in many things, to be their slave in more. Nominally to rule, but actually to be ruled, until, should he fail todo his rulers' will, there would be some night another meeting such asthis, in which men would plot to encompass his downfall and to supplanthim as he was invited to supplant Gian Maria. Lastly, he bethoughthim of the man whose power he was bidden to usurp. His own cousin, hisfather's sister's son, in whose veins ran the same blood as in his own. 

He raised his head at last, and met those anxious faces on which thefitful light was casting harsh shadows. The pale ghost of a smilehovered for a second on the corners of his stern mouth. 

"I thank you, sirs, for the honour you have done me, " he made answerslowly, "an honour of which I fear I am all unworthy. "

In strenuous chorus their voices rose to contradict him. 

"At least, then, an honour which I cannot accept. "

There was a moment's silence, and their faces from eager that they hadbeen, grew downcast to the point of sullenness. 

"But why, my lord?" cried old Fabrizio at last, his arms outstretchedtowards the Count, his voice quivering with intensity. "SantissimaVergine! Why?"

"Because--to give you but one reason out of many--the man you ask me tooverthrow and supplant is of my own blood. " And but that his tone wascalm they might have held that he rebuked them. 

"I had thought, " hazarded seriously the gay Fanfulla, "that with such aman as your Excellency, patriotism and the love of Babbiano would haveweighed even more than the ties of blood. "

"And you had thought well, Fanfulla. Did I not say that the reason Igave you was but one of many? Tell me, sirs, what cause have you tobelieve that I should rule you wisely and well? It so chances that inthe crisis now threatening Babbiano a captain is needed for its ruler. But let not this delude you, for there may come a season in the fortunesof the State when such a man might be as unfitted for dominion as is thepresent Duke in this. What then? A good knight-errant is an indifferentcourtier and a bad statesman. Lastly, my friends--since you must knowall that is in my heart--there remains the fact that I love myself alittle. I love my liberty too well, and I have no mind to stifle inthe scented atmosphere of courts. You see I am frank with you. It is mypleasure to roam the world, my harness on my back, free as the blessedwind of heaven. Shall a ducal crown and a cloak of purple----" He brokeoff sharply with a laugh. "There, my friends! You have had reasons andto spare. Again I thank you, and deplore that being such as I am, I maynot become such as you would have me. "

He sank back in his chair, eyeing them with a glance never so wistful, and after a second's silence, Da Lodi's voice implored him, in accentsthat trembled with pathetic emphasis, to reconsider his resolve. The oldman would have proceeded to fresh argument, but Aquila cut him short. 

"I have already so well considered it, Messer Fabrizio, " he answeredresolutely, "that nothing now could sway me. But this, sirs, I willpromise you: I will ride with you to Babbiano, and I will seek to reasonwith my cousin. More will I do; I will seek at his hands the office ofGonfalonier, and if he grant it me; I will so reorganise our forces, andenter into such alliances with our neighbours as shall ensure, at leastin some degree, the safety of our State. "

Still they endeavoured to cajole him, but he held firm against theirefforts, until in the end, with a sorrowful mien, Da Lodi thanked himfor his promise to use his influence with Gian Maria. 

"For this, at least, we thank your Excellency, and on our part we shallexert such power as we still wield in Babbiano to the end that the highoffice of Gonfalonier be conferred upon you. We had preferred to see youfill with honour a position higher still, and should you later come toconsider----"

"Dismiss your hopes of that, " put in the Count, with a solemn shakeof his head. And then, before another word was uttered, young Fanfulladegli Arcipreti leapt of a sudden to his feet, his brows knit, and anexpression of alarm spreading upon his comely face. A second heremained thus; then, going swiftly to the door, he opened it, and stoodlistening, followed by the surprised glances of the assembled company. But it needed not the warning cry with which he turned, to afford themthe explanation of his odd behaviour. In the moment's tense silence thathad followed his sudden opening of the door they had caught from withoutthe distant fall of marching feet. 

CHAPTER II. ON A MOUNTAIN PATH

"Armed men, my lords!" had been Fanfulla's cry. "We are betrayed!"

They looked at one another with stern eyes, and with that grimness thattakes the place which fear would hold in meaner souls. 

Then Aquila rose slowly to his feet, and with him rose the others, looking to their weapons. He softly breathed a name--"Masuccio Torri. "

"Aye, " cried Lodi bitterly, "would that we had heeded your warning!Masuccio it will be, and at his heels his fifty mercenaries. "

"Not less, I'll swear, by the sound of them, " said Ferrabraccio. "And webut six, without our harness. "

"Seven, " the Count laconically amended, resuming his hat and looseninghis sword in its scabbard. 

"Not so, my lord, " exclaimed Lodi, laying a hand upon the Count's arm. "You must not stay with us. You are our only hope--the only hope ofBabbiano. If we are indeed betrayed--though by what infernal means Iknow not--and they have knowledge that six traitors met here to-night toconspire against the throne of Gian Maria, at least, I'll swear, it isnot known that you were to have met us. His Highness may conjecture, but he cannot know for sure, and if you but escape, all may yet hewell--saving with us, who matter not. Go, my lord! Remember your promiseto seek at your cousin's hand the gonfalon, and may God and His blessedSaints prosper your Excellency. "

The old man caught the young man's hand, and bending his head until hisface was hidden in his long white hair, he imprinted a kiss of fealtyupon it. But Aquila was not so easily to be dismissed. 

"Where are your horses?" he demanded. 

"Tethered at the back. But who would dare ride them at night adown thisprecipice?"

"I dare for one, " answered the young man steadily, "and so shall you alldare. A broken neck is the worst that can befall us, and I would aslief break mine on the rocks of Sant' Angelo as have it broken by theexecutioner of Babbiano. "

"Bravely said, by the Virgin!" roared Ferrabraccio. "To horse, sirs!"

"But the only way is the way by which they come, " Fanfulla remonstrated. "The rest is sheer cliff. "

"Why, then, my sweet seducer, we'll go to meet them, " rejoinedFerrabraccio gaily. "They are on foot, and we'll sweep over them like amountain torrent. Come, sirs, hasten! They draw nigh. "

"We have but six horses, and we are seven, " another objected. 

"I have no horse, " said Francesco, "I'll follow you afoot. "

"What?" cried Ferrabraccio, who seemed now to have assumed command ofthe enterprise. "Let our St. Michael bring up the rear! No, no. You, DaLodi, you are too old for this work. "

"Too old?" blazed the old man, drawing himself up to the full height ofwhat was still a very imposing figure, and his eyes seeming to takefire at this reflection upon his knightly worth. "Were the season other, Ferrabraccio, I could crave leave to show you how much of youth there isstill left in me. But----" He paused. His angry eyes had alighted uponthe Count, who stood waiting by the door, and the whole expressionof his countenance changed. "You are right, Ferrabraccio, I grow oldindeed--a dotard. Take you my horse, and begone. "

"But you?" quoth the Count solicitously. 

"I shall remain. If you do your duty well by those hirelings they willnot trouble me. It will not occur to them that one was left behind. Theywill think only of following you after you have cut through them. Go, go, sirs, or all is lost. "

They obeyed him now with a rush that seemed almost to partake of panic. In a frenzied haste Fanfulla and another tore the tetherings loose, anda moment later they were all mounted and ready for that fearful ride. The night was dark, yet not too dark. The sky was cloudless and thicklystarred, whilst a minguant moon helped to illumine the way by which theywere to go. But on that broken and uncertain mountain path the shadowslay thickly enough to make their venture desperate. 

Ferrabraccio claiming a better knowledge than his comrades of the way, placed himself at their head, with the Count beside him. Behind them, two by two, came the four others. They stood on a small ledge inthe shadow of the great cliff that loomed on their left. Thence themountain-side might be scanned--as well as in such a light it was to bediscerned. The tramp of feet had now grown louder and nearer, and withit came the clank of armour. In front of them lay the path which sloped, for a hundred yards or more, to the first corner. Below them, on theright, the path again appeared at the point where it jutted out for somehalf-dozen yards in its zigzag course, and there Fanfulla caught thegleam of steel, reflecting the feeble moonlight. He drew Ferrabraccio'sattention to it, and that stout warrior at once gave the word to start. But Francesco interposed. 

"If we do so, " he objected, "we shall come upon them past the corner, and at that corner we shall be forced to slacken speed to avoid beingcarried over the edge of the cliff. Besides, in such a strait our horsesmay fail us, and refuse the ground. In any event, we shall not descendupon them with the same force as we shall carry if we wait until theycome into a straight line with us. The shadows here will screen us fromthem meanwhile. "

"You are right, Lord Count. We will wait, " was the ready answer. Andwhat time they waited he grumbled lustily. 

"To be caught in such a trap as this! Body of Satan! It was a madness tohave met in a hut with but one approach. "

"We might perhaps have retreated down the cliff behind, " said Francesco. 

"We might indeed--had we been sparrows or mountain cats. But being men, the way we go is the only way--and a mighty bad way it is. I should liketo be buried at Sant' Angelo, Lord Count, " he continued whimsically. "Itwill be conveniently near; for once I go over the mountain-side, I'llswear naught will stop me until I reach the valley--a parcel of brokenbones. "

"Steady, my friends, " murmured the voice of Aquila. "They come. "

And round that fateful corner they were now swinging into view--acompany in steel heads and bodies with partisan on shoulder. A momentthey halted now, so that the waiting party almost deemed itselfobserved. But it soon became clear that the halt was to the end that thestragglers might come up. Masuccio was a man who took no chances; everyknave of his fifty would he have before he ventured the assault. 

"Now, " murmured the Count, tightening his hat upon his brow, so thatit might the better mask his features. Then rising in his stirrups, and raising his sword on high, he let his voice be heard again. But nolonger in a whisper. Like a trumpet-call it rang, echoed and re-echoedup the mountain-side. 

"Forward! St. Michael and the Virgin!"

That mighty shout, followed as it was by a thunder of hooves, gave pauseto the advancing mercenaries. Masuccio's voice was heard, calling tothem to stand firm; bidding them kneel and ward the charge withtheir pikes; assuring them with curses that they had but to deal withhalf-dozen men. But the mountain echoes were delusive, and that thunderof descending hooves seemed to them not of a half-dozen but of aregiment. Despite Masuccio's imprecations the foremost turned, and inthat moment the riders were upon them, through them and over them, likethe mighty torrent of which Ferrabraccio had spoken. 

A dozen Swiss went down beneath that onslaught, and another dozen thathad been swept aside and over the precipice were half-way to the valleybefore that cavalcade met any check. Masuccio's remaining men strovelustily to stem this human cataract, now that they realised how smallwas the number of their assailants. They got their partisans to work, and for a few moments the battle raged hot upon that narrow way. The airwas charged with the grind and ring of steel, the stamping of men andhorses and the shrieks and curses of the maimed. 

The Lord of Aquila, ever foremost, fought desperately on. Not only withhis sword fought he, but with his horse as well. Rearing the beast onits hind legs, he would swing it round and let it descend where least itwas expected, laying about him with his sword at the same time. In vainthey sought to bring down his charger with their pikes; so swift andfurious was his action, that before their design could be accomplished, he was upon those that meditated it, scattering them out of reach tosave their skins. 

In this ferocious manner he cleared a way before him, and luck servedhim so well that what blows were wildly aimed at him as he dashed bywent wide of striking him. At last he was all but through the press, andbut three men now fronted him. Again his charger reared, snorting, andpawing the air like a cat, and two of the three knaves before him fledincontinently aside. But the third, who was of braver stuff, dropped onone knee and presented his pike at the horse's belly. Francesco made awild attempt to save the roan that had served him so gallantly, but hewas too late. It came down to impale itself upon that waiting partisan. With a hideous scream the horse sank upon its slayer, crushing himbeneath its mighty weight, and hurling its rider forward on to theground. In an instant he was up and had turned, for all that he washalf-stunned by his fall and weakened by the loss of blood froma pike-thrust in the shoulder--of which he had hitherto remainedunconscious in the heat of battle. Two mercenaries were bearing downupon him--the same two that had been the last to fall back before him. He braced himself to meet them, thinking that his last hour was indeedcome, when Fanfulla degli Arcipreti, who had followed him closelythrough the press, now descended upon his assailants from behind, androde them down. Beside the Count he reined up, and stretched down hishand. 

"Mount behind me, Excellency, " he urged him. 

"There is not time, " answered Francesco, who discerned a half-dozenfigures hurrying towards them. "I will cling to your stirrup-leather, thus. Now spur!" And without waiting for Fanfulla to obey him, he caughtthe horse a blow with the flat of his sword across the hams, which sentit bounding forward. Thus they continued now that perilous descent, Fanfulla riding, and the Count half-running, half-swinging from hisstirrup. At last, when they had covered a half-mile in this fashion, and the going had grown easier, they halted that the Count might mountbehind his companion, and as they now rode along at an easier paceFrancesco realised that he and Fanfulla were the only two that had comethrough that ugly place. The gallant Ferrabraccio, hero of a hundredstrenuous battles, had gone to the ignoble doom which half in jest hehad prophesied himself. His horse had played him false at the outset ofthe charge, and taking fright it had veered aside despite his efforts tocontrol it, until, losing its foothold, man and beast had gone hurtlingover the cliff. Amerini, Fanfulla had seen slain, whilst the remainingtwo, being both unhorsed, would doubtless be the prisoners of Masuccio. 

Some three miles beyond Sant' Angelo, Fanfulla's weary horse splashedacross a ford of the Metauro, and thus, towards the second hour ofnight, they gained the territory of Urbino, where for the time theymight hold themselves safe from all pursuit. 

CHAPTER III. SACKCLOTH AND MOTLEY

The fool and the friar had fallen a-quarrelling, and--to the shameof the friar and the glory of the fool be it spoken--their subject ofcontention was a woman. Now the friar, finding himself no match for thefool in words, and being as broad and stout of girth and limb as theother was puny and misshapen, he had plucked off his sandal that withit he might drive the full force of his arguments through the jester'sskull. At that the fool, being a very coward, had fled incontinentlythrough the trees. 

Running, like the fool he was, with his head turned to learn whether thegood father followed him, he never saw the figure that lay half-hiddenin the bracken, and might never have guessed its presence but thattripping over it he shot forward, with a tinkle of bells, on to hiscrooked nose. 

He sat up with a groan, which was answered by an oath from the man intowhose sides he had dug his flying feet. The two looked at one another insurprise, tempered with anger in the one and dismay in the other. 

"A good awakening to you, noble sir, " quoth the fool politely; for bythe mien and inches of the man he had roused, he thought that courtesymight serve him best. 

The other eyed him with interest, as well he might; for an odder figureit would be hard to find in Italy. 

Hunched of back, under-sized, and fragile of limb, he was arrayed indoublet, hose and hood, the half of which was black the other crimson, whilst on his shoulders fell from that same hood--which tightly framedhis ugly little face--a foliated cape, from every point of which therehung a tiny silver bell that glimmered in the sunlight, and tinkled ashe moved. From under bulging brows a pair of bright eyes, set wide as anowl's, took up the mischievous humour of his prodigious mouth. 

"A curse on you and him that sent you, " was the answering greeting hereceived. Then the man checked his anger and broke into a laugh at sightof the fear that sprang into the jester's eyes. 

"I crave your pardon--most humbly do I crave it, Illustrious, " said thefool, still in fear. "I was pursued. "

"Pursued?" echoed the other, in a tone not free from a suddenuneasiness. "And, pray, by whom?"

"By the very fiend, disguised in the gross flesh and semblance of aDominican brother. "

"Do you jest?" came the angry question. 

"Jest? Had you caught his villainous sandal between your shoulders, asdid I, you would know how little I have a mind to jest. "

"Now answer me a plain question, if you have the wit to answer with, "quoth the other, anger ever rising in his voice. "Is there hereabouts amonk?"

"Aye, is there--may a foul plague rot him!--lurking in the bushesyonder. He is over-fat to run, or you had seen him at my heels, arrayedin that panoply of avenging wrath that is the cognisance of the ChurchMilitant. "

"Go bring him hither, " was the short answer. 

"Gesł!" gasped the fool, in very real affright. "I'll not go near himtill his anger cools--not if you made me straight and bribed me with thePatrimony of St. Peter. "

The man turned from him impatiently, and rising his voice:

"Fanfulla!" he called over his shoulder, and then, after a moment'spause, again: "Olį, Fanfulla!"

"I am here, my lord, " came an answering voice from behind a clump ofbushes on their right, and almost immediately the very splendid youthwho had gone to sleep in its shadow stood up and came round to them. At sight of the fool he paused to take stock of him, what time the foolreturned the compliment with wonder-stricken interest. For however muchFanfulla's raiment might have suffered in yesternight's affray, it wasvery gorgeous still, and in the velvet cap upon his head a string ofjewels was entwined. Yet not so much by the richness of his trappingswas the fool impressed, as by the fact that one so manifestly nobleshould address by such a title, and in a tone of so much deference, thisindifferently apparelled fellow over whom he had stumbled. Then his gazewandered back to the man who lay supported on his elbow, and he noticednow the gold net in which his hair was coiffed, and which was by nomeans common to mean folk. His little twinkling eyes turned theirattention full upon the face before him, and of a sudden a gleam ofrecognition entered them. His countenance underwent a change, and fromgrotesque that it had been, it became more grotesque still in its hastyassumption of reverence. 

"My Lord of Aquila!" he murmured, scrambling to his feet. 

Scarcely had he got erect when a hand gripped him by the shoulder, andFanfulla's dagger flashed before his startled eyes. 

"Swear on the cross of this, never to divulge his Excellency's presencehere, or take you the point of it in your foolish heart. "

"I swear, I swear!" he cried, in fearful haste, his hand upon the hilt, which Fanfulla now held towards him. 

"Now fetch the priest, good fool, " said the Count, with a smile at thehunchback's sudden terror. "You have nothing to fear from us. "

When the jester had left them to go upon his errand, Francesco turned tohis companion. 

"Fanfulla, you are over-cautious, " he said, with an easy smile. "Whatshall it matter that I am recognised?"

"I would not have it happen for a kingdom while you are so near Sant'Angelo. The six of us who met last night are doomed--those of us who arenot dead already. For me, and for Lodi if he was not taken, there may besafety in flight. Into the territory of Babbiano I shall never again setfoot whilst Gian Maria is Duke, unless I be weary of this world. But ofthe seventh--yourself--you heard old Lodi swear that the secret couldnot have transpired. Yet should his Highness come to hear of yourpresence in these parts and in my company, suspicion might set him onthe road that leads to knowledge. "

"Ah! And then?"

"Then?" returned the other, eyeing Francesco in surprise. "Why, then, the hopes we found on you--the hopes of every man in Babbiano worthy ofthe name--would be frustrated. But here comes our friend the fool, and, in his wake, the friar. "

Fra Domenico--so was he very fitly named, this follower of St. Dominic--approached with a solemnity that proceeded rather from hisgreat girth than from any inflated sense of the dignity of his calling. He bowed before Fanfulla until his great crimson face was hidden, and hedisplayed instead a yellow, shaven crown. It was as if the sun had set, and the moon had risen in its place. 

"Are you skilled in medicine?" quoth Fanfulla shortly. 

"I have some knowledge, Illustrious. "

"Then see to this gentleman's wounds. "

"Eh? Dio mio! You are wounded, then?" he began, turning to the Count, and he would have added other questions as pregnant, but that Aquila, drawing aside his hacketon at the shoulder, answered him quickly:

"Here, sir priest. "

His lips pursed in solicitude, the friar would have gone upon hisknees, but that Francesco, seeing with what labour the movement must befraught, rose up at once. 

"It is not so bad that I cannot stand, " said he, submitting himself tothe monk's examination. 

The latter expressed the opinion that it was nowise dangerous, howevermuch it might be irksome, whereupon the Count invited him to bind it up. To this Fra Domenico replied that he had neither unguents nor linen, butFanfulla suggested that he might get these things from the convent ofAcquasparta, hard by, and proffered to accompany him thither. 

This being determined, they departed, leaving the Count in the companyof the jester. Francesco spread his cloak, and lay down again, whilstthe fool, craving his permission to remain, disposed himself upon hishaunches like a Turk. 

"Who is your master, fool?" quoth the Count, in an idle spirit. 

"There is a man who clothes and feeds me, noble sir, but Folly is myonly master. "

"To what end does he do this?"

"Because I pretend to be a greater fool than he, so that by contrastwith me he seems unto himself wise, which flatters his conceit. Again, perhaps, because I am so much uglier than he that, again by contrast, hemay account himself a prodigy of beauty. "

"Odd, is it not?" the Count humoured him. 

"Not half so odd as that the Lord of Aquila should lie here, roughlyclad, a wound in his shoulder, talking to a fool. "

Francesco eyed him with a smile. 

"Give thanks to God that Fanfulla is not here to hear you, or they hadbeen your last words for pretty though he be, Messer Fanfulla is a verymonster of bloodthirstiness. With me it is different. I am a man of verygentle ways, as you may have heard, Messer Buffoon. But see that youforget at once my station and my name, or you may realise how littlethey need buffoons in the Court of Heaven. "

"My lord, forgive. I shall obey you, " answered the hunchback, with astricken manner. And then through the glade came a voice--a woman'svoice, wondrous sweet and rich--calling: "Peppino! Peppino!"

"It is my mistress calling me, " quoth the fool, leaping to his feet. 

"So that you own a mistress, though Folly be your only master, " laughedthe Count. "It would pleasure me to behold the lady whose property youhave the honour to be, Ser Peppino. "

"You may behold her if you but turn your head, " Peppino whispered. 

Idly, with a smile upon his lips that was almost scornful, the Lord ofAquila turned his eyes in the direction in which the fool was alreadywalking. And on the instant his whole expression changed. The amusedscorn was swept from his countenance, and in its place there sat now alook of wonder that was almost awe. 

Standing there, on the edge of the clearing, in which he lay, he behelda woman. He had a vague impression of a slender, shapely height, afleeting vision of a robe of white damask, a camorra of green velvet, and a choicely wrought girdle of gold. But it was the glory of herpeerless face that caught and held his glance in such ecstatic awe; themiracle of her eyes, which, riveted on his, returned his glance withone of mild surprise. A child she almost seemed, despite her height andwomanly proportions, so fresh and youthful was her countenance. 

Raised on his elbow, he lay there for a spell, and gazed and gazed, his mind running on visions which godly men have had of saints fromParadise. 

At last the spell was broken by Peppino's voice, addressing her, hisback servilely bent. Francesco bethought him of the deference due to oneso clearly noble, and leaping to his feet, his wound forgotten, he bowedprofoundly. A second later he gasped for breath, reeled, and swooning, collapsed supine among the bracken. 

CHAPTER IV. MONNA VALENTINA

In after years the Lord of Aquila was wont to aver in all solemnity thatit was the sight of her wondrous beauty set up such a disorder in hissoul that it overcame his senses, and laid him swooning at her feet. That he, himself, believed it so, it is not ours to doubt, for all thatwe may be more prone to agree with the opinion afterwards expressedby Fanfulla and the friar--and deeply resented by the Count--that inleaping to his feet in over-violent haste his wound re-opened, and thepain of this, combining with the weak condition that resulted from hisloss of blood, had caused his sudden faintness. 

"Who is this, Peppe?" she asked the fool, and he, mindful of the oathhe had sworn, answered her brazenly that he did not know, adding that itwas--as she might see---some poor wounded fellow. 

"Wounded?" she echoed, and her glorious eyes grew very pitiful. "Andalone?"

"There was a gentleman here, tending him, Madonna; but he is gone withFra Domenico to the Convent of Acquasparta to seek the necessaries tomend his shoulder. "

"Poor gentleman, " she murmured, approaching the fallen figure. "How camehe by his hurt?"

"That, Madonna, is more than I can tell. "

"Can we do nothing for him until his friends return?" was her nextquestion, bending over the Count as she spoke. "Come, Peppino, " shecried, "lend me your aid. Get me water from the brook, yonder. "

The fool looked about him for a vessel, and his eye falling upon theCount's capacious hat, he snatched it up, and went his errand. When hereturned, the lady was kneeling with the unconscious man's head inher lap. Into the hatful of water that Peppe brought her she dipped akerchief, and with this she bathed the brow on which his long black hairlay matted and disordered. 

"See how he has bled, Peppe, " said she. "His doublet is drenched, andhe is bleeding still! Vergine Santa!" she cried, beholding now theugly wound that gaped in his shoulder, and turning pale at the sight. "Assuredly he will die of it--and he so young, Peppino, and so comely tobehold!"

Francesco stirred, and a sigh fluttered through his pallid lips. Thenhe raised his heavy lids, and their glances met and held each other. Andso, eyes that were brown and tender looked down into feverish languideyes of black, what time her gentle hand held the moist cloth to hisaching brow. 

"Angel of beauty!" he murmured dreamily, being but half-awake as yet tohis position. Then, becoming conscious of her ministrations, "Angel ofgoodness!" he added, with yet deeper fervour. 

She had no answer for him, saving such answer--and in itself it waseloquent enough--as her blushes made, for she was fresh from a conventand all innocent of worldly ways and tricks of gallant speech. 

"Do you suffer?" she asked at last. 

"Suffer?" quoth he, now waking more and more, and his voice soundinga note of scorn. "Suffer? My head so pillowed and a saint from Heavenministering to my ills? Nay, I am in no pain, Madonna, but in a joy moresweet than I have ever known. "

"Gesł! What a nimble tongue!" gibed the fool from the background. 

"Are you there, too, Master Buffoon?" quoth Francesco. "And Fanfulla?Is he not here? Why, now I bethink me; he went to Acquasparta with thefriar. " He thrust his elbow under him for more support. 

"You must not move, " said she, thinking that he would essay to rise. 

"I would not, lady, if I must, " he answered solemnly. And then, with hiseyes upon her face, he boldly asked her name. 

"My name, " she answered readily, "is Valentina della Rovere, and I amniece to Guidobaldo of Urbino. "

His brows shot up. 

"Do I indeed live, " he questioned, "or do I but dream the memories ofsome old romancer's tale, in which a wandering knight is tended thus bya princess?"

"Are you a knight?" she asked, a wonder coming now into her eyes, foreven into the seclusion of her convent-life had crept strange stories ofthese mighty men-at-arms. 

"Your knight at least, sweet lady, " answered he, "and ever your poorchampion if you will do me so much honour. "

A crimson flush stole now into her cheeks, summoned by his bold wordsand bolder glances, and her eyes fell. Yet, resentment had no part inher confusion. She found no presumption in his speech, nor aught thata brave knight might not say to the lady who had succoured him in hisdistress. Peppe, who stood listening and marking the Count's manner, knowing the knight's station, was filled now with wonder, now withmockery; yet never interfered. 

"What is your name, sir knight?" she asked, after a pause. 

His eyes looked troubled, and as they shot beyond her to the fool, theycaught on Peppe's face a grin of sly amusement. 

"My name, " he said at last, "is Francesco. " And then, to prevent thatshe should further question him--"But tell me, Madonna, " he inquired, "how comes a lady of your station here, alone with that poor fraction ofa man?" And he indicated the grinning Peppe. 

"My people are yonder in the woods, where we have halted for a littlespace. I am on my way to my uncle's court, from the Convent of SantaSofia, and for my escort I have Messer Romeo Gonzaga and twenty spears. So that, you see, I am well protected, without counting Ser Peppe hereand the saintly Fra Domenico, my confessor. "

There was a pause, ended at length by Francesco. 

"You will be the younger niece of his Highness of Urbino?" said he. 

"Not so, Messer Francesco, " she answered readily. "I am the elder. "

At that his brows grew of a sudden dark. 

"Can you be she whom they would wed to Gian Maria?" he exclaimed, atwhich the fool pricked up his ears, whilst she looked at the Count witha gaze that plainly showed how far she was from understanding him. 

"You said?" she asked. 

"Why, nothing, " he answered, with a sigh, and in that moment a man'svoice came ringing through the wood. 

"Madonna! Madonna Valentina!"

Francesco and the lady turned their eyes in the direction whence thevoice proceeded, and they beheld a superbly dazzling figure entering theglade. In beauty of person and richness of apparel he was well worthy ofthe company of Valentina. His doublet was of grey velvet, set off withscales of beaten gold, and revealing a gold-embroidered vest beneath;his bonnet matched his doublet, and was decked by a feather thatsparkled with costly gems; his gold-hilted sword was sheathed in ascabbard also of grey velvet set with jewels. His face was comely as adamsel's, his eyes blue and his hair golden. 

"Behold, " announced Peppino gravely, "Italy's latest translation of theGolden Ass of Apuleius. "

Upon seeing the noble niece of Guidobaldo kneeling there withFrancesco's head still pillowed in her lap, the new-comer cast up hisarms in a gesture of dismay. 

"Saints in Heaven!" he exclaimed, hurrying towards them. "Whatoccupation have you found? Who is this ugly fellow?"

"Ugly?" was all she answered him, in accents of profound surprise. 

"Who is he?" the young man insisted, his tone growing heated. "And whatdoes he here and thus, with you? Gesł! What would his Highness say?How would he deal with me were he to learn of this? Who is the man, Madonna?"

"Why, as you see, Messer Gonzaga, " she answered, with some heat, "awounded knight. "

"A knight he?" gibed Gonzaga. "A thief more likely, a prowlingmasnadiero. What is your name?" he roughly asked the Count. 

Drawing himself a little away from Valentina, and reclining entirelyupon his elbow, Francesco motioned him with a wave of the hand to comeno nearer. 

"I beg, lady, that you will bid your pretty page stand back a little. Iam still faint, and his perfumes overpower me. "

Under the mask of the polite request Gonzaga detected the mocking, contemptuous note, and it gave fuel to his anger. 

"I am no page, fool, " he answered, then clapping his hands together, heraised his voice to shout--"Olį, Beltrame! To me!"

"What would you do?" cried the lady, rising to confront him. 

"Carry this ruffian in bonds to Urbino, as is my duty. "

"Sir, you may wound your pretty hands in grasping me, " replied theCount, in chill indifference. 

"Ah! You would threaten me with violence, vassal?" cried the other, retreating some paces farther as he spoke. "Beltrame!" he called again. "Are you never coming?" A voice answered him from the thicket, and witha clank of steel a half-dozen men flung themselves into the glade. 

"Your orders, sir?" craved he that led them, his eyes wandering to thestill prostrate Count. 

"Tie me up this dog, " Gonzaga bade him. But before the fellow could movea foot to carry out the order Valentina barred his way. 

"You shall not, " she commanded, and so transformed was she from theingenuous child that lately had talked with him, that Francesco gaped inpure astonishment. "In my uncle's name, I bid you leave this gentlemanwhere he lies. He is a wounded knight whom I have been pleased totend--a matter which seems to have aroused Messer Gonzaga's angeragainst him. "

Beltrame paused, and looked from Valentina to Gonzaga, undecided. 

"Madonna, " said Gonzaga, with assumed humility, "your word is law withus. But I would have you consider that, what I bid Beltrame do is inthe interest of his Highness, whose territory is infested by thesevagabonding robbers. It is a fact that may not have reached you inyour convent retreat, no more than has sufficient knowledge reached youyet--in your incomparable innocence--to distinguish between rogues andhonest men. Beltrame, do my bidding. "

Valentina's foot tapped the ground impatiently, and into her eyes therecame a look of anger that heightened her likeness to her martial uncle. But Peppe it was who spoke. 

"For all that there seem to be fools enough, already, meddling in thisbusiness, " he said, in tones of mock lament, "permit that I join theirnumber, Ser Romeo, and listen to my counsel. "

"Out, fool, " cried Gonzaga, cutting at him with his riding-switch, "weneed not your capers. "

"No, but you need my wisdom, " retorted Ser Peppe, as he leapt beyondGonzaga's reach. "Hear me, Beltrame! For all that we do not doubt MesserGonzaga's keen discrimination in judging 'twixt a rogue and an honestman, I do promise you, as surely as though I were Fate herself, that ifyou obey him now and tie up that gentleman, you will yourself be tied upfor it, later on, in a yet uglier fashion. "

Beltrame looked alarmed, Gonzaga incredulous. Valentina thanked Peppewith her eyes, thinking that he had but hit upon a subterfuge to serveher wishes, whilst Francesco, who had now risen to his feet, lookedon with an amused smile as though the matter concerned him nowisepersonally. And then, in the very crux of the situation, Fanfulla andFra Domenico appeared upon the scene. 

"You are, well-returned, Fanfulla!" the Count called to him, "Thispretty gentleman would have had me bound. "

"Have you bound?" echoed Fanfulla, in angry horror. "Upon what grounds, pray?" he demanded, turning fiercely upon Gonzaga. 

Impressed by Fanfulla's lordly air, Romeo Gonzaga grew amazingly humblefor one that but a moment back had been so overbearing. 

"It would seem, sir, that my judgment was at fault in esteeming hiscondition, " he excused himself. 

"Your judgment?" returned the hot Fanfulla. "And who bade you judge? Gocut your milk-teeth, boy, and meddle not with men if you would live tobe a man yourself some day. "

Valentina smiled, Peppe laughed outright, whilst even Beltrame and hisfollowers grinned, all of which added not a little to Gonzaga's choler. But scant though his wisdom might be, it was yet enough to dictateprudence. 

"The presence of Madonna here restrains me, " he answered, with elaboratedignity. "But should we meet again, I shall make bold to show you whatmanhood means. "

"Perhaps--if by then you shall have come to it. " And with a shrugFanfulla turned to give his attention to the Count, whom Fra Domenicowas already tending. 

Valentina, to relieve the awkwardness of the moment, proposed toGonzaga that he should get his escort to horse, and have her litterin readiness, so that they might resume their journey as soon as FraDomenico should have concluded his ministrations. 

Gonzaga bowed, and with a vicious glance at the strangers and anangry "Follow me!" to Beltrame and the others, he departed with themen-at-arms at his heels. 

Valentina remained with Fanfulla and Peppe, whilst Fra Domenico dressedFrancesco's wound, and, presently, when the task was accomplished, theydeparted, leaving Fanfulla amid the Count alone. But ere she went shelistened to Francesco's thanks, and suffered him to touch her ivoryfingers with his lips. 

There was much he might have said but that the presence of the otherthree restrained him. Yet some little of that much she may have seenreflected in his eyes, for all that day she rode pensive, a fond, wistful smile at the corners of her lips. And although to Gonzaga shemanifested no resentment, yet did she twit him touching that mistakeof his. Sore in his dignity, he liked her playful mockery little yet heliked the words in which she framed it less. 

"How came you into so grievous an error, Ser Romeo?" she asked him, morethan once. "How could you deem him a rogue--he with so noble a mien andso beautiful a countenance?" And without heeding the sullenness of hisanswers, she would lapse with a sigh once more into reflection--a thingthat galled Gonzaga more, perhaps, than did her gibes. 

CHAPTER V. GIAN MARIA

It was a week after the meeting 'twixt the niece of Guidobaldo and theCount of Aquila, when the latter--his wound being wellnigh healed--rodeone morning under the great archway that was the main entrance to thecity of Babbiano. The Captain of the Gate saluted him respectfully ashe rode by, and permitted himself to marvel at the pallor of hisExcellency's face. And yet, the cause was not very far to seek. It stoodupon four spears, among a noisy flock of circling crows, above that veryGate---called of San Bacolo--and consisted of four detruncated humanheads. 

The sight of those dead faces grinning horribly, their long, mattedhair fluttering like rags in the April breeze, had arrested Francesco'sattention as he drew nigh. But when presently he came nearer and lookedwith more intentness, a shudder of recognition ran through him, and agreat horror filled his soul and paled his cheek. The first of thoseheads was that of the valiant and well-named Ferrabraccio; the next thatof Amerino Amerini; and the other two, those of his captured companionson that night at Sant' Angelo. 

So it would seem that Gian Maria had been busy during the week that wassped, and that there, on the walls of Babbiano, lay rotting the onlyfruits which that ill-starred conspiracy was likely to bear. 

For a second it entered his mind to turn back. But his stout andfearless nature drove him on, all unattended as he was, and in despiteof such vague forebodings as beset him. How much, he wondered, mightGian Maria know of his own share in that mountain meeting, and how wouldit fare with him if his cousin was aware that it had been proposed tothe Count of Aquila to supplant him?

He was not long, however, in learning that grounds were wanting for suchfears as he had entertained. Gian Maria received him with even more thanwonted welcome, for he laid much store by Francesco's judgment and wasin sore need of it at present. 

Francesco found him at table, which had been laid for him amidst thetreasures of art and learning that enriched the splendid Palace library. It was a place beloved by Gian Maria for the material comforts that itoffered him, and so he turned it to a score of vulgar purposes ofhis own, yet never to that for which it was equipped, being an utterstranger to letters and ignorant as a ploughboy. 

Ensconced in a great chair of crimson leather, at a board overladen withchoice viands and sparkling with crystal flagons and with vessels anddishes of gold and enamel, Francesco found his cousin, and the air thathad been heavy once with the scholarly smell of parchments and mustytomes was saturated now with pungent odours of the table. 

In stature Gian Maria was short and inclining, young though he was, tocorpulency. His face was round and pale and flabby; his eyes blue andbeady; his mouth sensual and cruel. He was dressed in a suit of lilacvelvet, trimmed with lynx fur, and slashed, Spanish fashion, in thesleeves, to show the shirt of fine Rheims linen underneath. About hisneck hung a gold chain, bearing an Agnus Dei, which contained a relic ofthe True Cross--for Gian Maria pushed his devoutness to great lengths. 

His welcome of Francesco was more effusive than its wont. He bade thetwo servants who attended him to lay a plate for his illustrious cousin, and when Aquila shortly yet courteously declined, with the assurancethat he had dined already, the Duke insisted that, at least, he shoulddrink a Cup of Malvasia. When out of a vessel of beaten gold they hadfilled a goblet for the Count, his Highness bade the servants go, andrelaxed--if, indeed, so much may be said of one who never knew muchdignity--before his visitor. 

"I hear, " said Aquila, when the first compliments were spent, "strangestories of a conspiracy in your Duchy, and on the walls at the Gate ofSan Bacolo I beheld four heads, of men whom I have known and honoured. "

"And who dishonoured themselves ere their heads were made a banquet forthe crows. There, Francesco!" He shuddered, and crossed himself. "It isunlucky to speak of the dead at table. "

"Let us speak, then, of their offence alone, " persisted Francescosubtly. "In what did it lie?

"In what?" returned the Duke amusedly. His voice was thin and incliningto shrillness. "It is more than I can say. Masuccio knew. But the dogwould not disclose his secret nor the names of the conspirators untilhis task should be accomplished and he had taken them at the treasonhe knew they had gathered to ripen. But, " he continued, an olive poised'twixt thumb and forefinger, "it seems they were not to be captured aseasily as he thought. He told me the traitors numbered six, and thatthey were to meet a seventh there. The men who returned from the venturetell me too, and without shame, that there were but some six or seventhat beset them. Yet they gave the Swiss trouble enough, and killed somenine of them besides a half-score of more or less grievously wounded, whilst they but slew two of their assailants and captured another two. Those were the four heads you saw at the Porta San Bacolo. "

"And Masuccio?" inquired Francesco. "Has he not told you since who werethose others that escaped?"

His Highness paused to masticate the olive. 

"Why, there lies the difficulty, " said he at length. "The dog is dead. He was killed in the affray. May he rot in hell for his obstinatereticence. No, no!" he checked himself hastily. "He's dead, and thesecret of this treason, as well as the names of the traitors, haveperished with him. Yet I am a clement man, Francesco, and sorely thoughthat dog has wronged me by his silence, I thank Heaven for the grace tosay--God rest his vile soul!"

The Count flung himself into a chair, as much to dissemble such signs ofrelief as might show upon his face, as because he wished to sit. 

"But surely Masuccio left you some information!" he exclaimed. 

"The very scantiest, " returned Gian Maria, in chagrined accents. "It wasever the way of that secretive vassal. Damn him! He frankly told me thatif I knew, I would talk. Heard you ever of such insufferable insolenceto a prince? All that he would let me learn was that there was aconspiracy afoot to supplant me, and that he was going to capture theconspirators, together with the man whom they were inviting to takemy place. Ponder it, Francesco! Such are the murderous plans my lovingsubjects form for my undoing--I who rule them with a rod of gold, themost clement, just and generous prince in Italy. Cristo buono! Doyou marvel that I lost patience and had their hideous heads set uponspears?"

"But did you not say that two of these conspirators were brought backcaptive?"

The Duke nodded, his mouth too full for words. 

"Then, at their trial, what transpired?"

"Trial? There was no trial. " Gian Maria chewed vigorously for a moment. "I tell you I was so heated with anger at this base ingratitude, that Ihad not even the wit to have the names of their associates tortured outof them. Within a half-hour of their arrival in Babbiano, the heads ofthese men whom it had pleased Heaven to deliver up to me were where yousaw them to-day. "

"You sent them thus to their death?" gasped Francesco, rising to hisfeet and eyeing his cousin with mingled wonder and anger. "You sent menof such families as these to the headsman, without a trial? I think, Gian Maria, that you must be mad if so rashly you can shed such blood asthis. "

The Duke sank back in his chair to gape at his impetuous cousin. Then, in sullen anger: "To whom do you speak?" he demanded. 

"To a tyrant who calls himself the most clement, just and generousprince in Italy, and who lacks the wisdom to see that he is underminingwith his own hands, and by his own rash actions, a throne that isalready tottering. Can you not think that this might mean a revolution?It amounts to murder, and though dukes resort to it freely enough inItaly, it is not openly and defiantly wrought, as is this. "

Anger there was in the Duke's soul, but there was still more fear--somuch, that it shouldered the anger aside. 

"I have provided against rebellion, " he announced, with an ease that hevainly strove to feel. "I have given the command of my guards to MartinoArmstadt, and he has engaged for me a company of five hundred Swisslanzknechte that were lately in the pay of the Baglioni of Perugia. "

"And you deem this security?" rejoined Francesco, with a smile of scorn. "To hedge your throne with foreign spears commanded by a foreigner?"

"This and God's grace, " was the pious answer. 

"Bah!" answered Francesco, impatient at the hypocrisy. "Win the heartsof your people. Let that be your buckler. "

"Hush!" whispered Gian Maria. "You blaspheme. Does not every act of myself-sacrificing life point to such an aim? I live for my people. But, by my soul, they ask too much when they ask that I should die for them. If I serve those who plot against my life, as I have served these menyou speak of, who shall blame me? I tell you, Francesco, I wish I mighthave those others who escaped, that I might do as much by them. By theliving God, I do! And as for the man who was to have supplanted me----"He paused, a deadly smile on his sensual mouth completing the sentencemore effectively than lay within the power of words. "Who could ithave been?" he mused. "I've vowed that if Heaven will grant me that Idiscover him, I'll burn a candle to Santa Fosca every Saturday for atwelvemonth and go fasting on the Vigil of the Dead. Who--who could ithave been, Franceschino?"

"How should I know?" returned Francesco, evading the question. 

"You know so much, Checco mio. Your mind is so quick to fathom mattersof this kind. Think you, now, it might have been the Duca Valentino?"

Francesco shook his head. 

"When Caesar Borgia comes he will know no need to resort to such poormeans. He will come in arms to reduce you by his might. "

"God and the saints protect me!" gasped the Duke. "You talk of it as ifhe were already marching. "

"Then I talk of it advisedly. The event is none so remote as you wouldmake yourself believe. Listen, Gian Maria! I have not ridden from Aquilafor just the pleasure of passing the time of day with you. Fabrizio daLodi and Fanfulla degli Arcipreti have been with me of late. "

"With you?" cried the Duke, his little eyes narrowing themselves as theyglanced up at his cousin. "With you--­eh?" He shrugged his shoulders andspread his palms before him. "Pish! See into what errors even so cleara mind as mine may fall. Do you know, Francesco, that marking theirabsence since that conspiracy was laid, I had a half-suspicion they wereconnected with it. " And he devoted his attention to a honeycomb. 

"You have not in all your Duchy two hearts more faithful to Babbiano, "was the equivocal reply. "It was on the matter of this very peril thatthreatens you that they came to me. "

"Ah!" Gian Maria's white face grew interested. 

And now the Count of Aquila talked to the Duke of Babbiano much asFabrizio da Lodi had talked to the Count that night at Sant' Angelo. Hespoke of the danger that threatened from the Borgia, of the utter lackof preparation, and of Gian Maria's contempt of the counsels given him. He alluded to the discontent rife among his subjects at this state ofthings, and to the urgent need to set them right. When he had done, theDuke sat silent a while, his eyes bent thoughtfully upon his platter, onwhich the food lay now unheeded. 

"An easy thing, is it not, Francesco, to say to a man: this is wrong, and that is wrong. But who is there, pray, to set it right for me?"

"That, if you will say but the word, I will attempt to do. "

"You?" cried the Duke, and far from manifesting satisfaction at havingone offer himself to undertake to right this very crooked business, GianMaria's face reflected an incredulous anger and some little scorn. "Andhow, my marvellous cousin, would you set about it?" he inquired, a sneerlurking in his tone. 

"I would place such matters as the levying of money by taxation inthe hands of Messer Despuglio, and at whatever sacrifice to your ownextravagance, I would see that for months to come the bulk of thesemoneys is applied to the levying and arming of suitable men. I have someskill as a condottiero--leastways, so more than one foreign prince hasbeen forced to acknowledge. I will lead your army when I have raised it, and I will enter into alliances for you with our neighbouring States, who, seeing us armed, will deem us a power worthy of their alliance. Andso, what man can do to stem the impending flood of this invasion, thatwill I do to defend your Duchy. Make me your gonfalonier, and in a monthI will tell you whether it lies in my power or not to save your State. "

The eyes of Gian Maria had narrowed more and more whilst Francescospoke, and into his shallow face had crept an evil, suspicious look. Asthe Count ceased, he gave vent to a subdued laugh, bitter with mockery. 

"Make you my gonfalonier?" he muttered, in consummate amusement. "Andsince when has Babbiano been a republic--or is it your aim to make itone, and establish yourself as its chief magistrate?"

"If you misapprehend me so----" began Francesco, but his cousininterrupted him with heightening scorn. 

"Misapprehend you, Messer Franceschino? No, no. I understand you buttoo well. " He rose suddenly from his interrupted meal, and came a stepnearer his cousin. "I hear rumours of this growing love my people aremanifesting for the Count of Aquila, and I have let them go unheeded. That rogue Masuccio warned me ere he died, and I answered him withmy whip across his face. But I am by no means sure that I have beenproceeding wisely. I had a dream two nights ago---- But let that be!When it so happens that in any State there is a man whom the peopleprefer to him who rules them, and when it so happens that this man is ofas good blood and high birth as are you, he becomes a danger to himthat sits the throne. I need scarce remind you, " he added, with a horridgrin, "of how the Borgias deal with such individuals, nor need I addthat a Sforza may see fit to emulate those very conclusive measures ofprecaution. The family of Sforza has bred as yet no fools, nor shall Iprove myself the first by placing in another's hands the power to makehimself my master. You see, my gentle cousin, how transparent youraims become under my eyes. I am keen of vision, Franceschino, keen ofvision!" He tapped his nose and chuckled a malicious appreciation of hisown acute perceptions. 

Francesco regarded him with an eye of stony scorn. He might haveanswered, had he been so disposed, that the Duchy of Babbiano was his totake whenever he pleased. He might have told him that, and defied him. But he went more slowly than did this man of a family that bred nofools. 

"Do you know me, then, so little, Gian Maria, " said he, not withoutbitterness, "that you think I hunger for so empty a thing as this ducalpomp you clutch so fearfully? I tell you, man, that I prefer my libertyto an imperial throne. But I waste breath with you. Yet, some day, whenyour crown shall have passed from you and your power have been engulfedin the Borgia's rapacious maw, remember my offer which might have savedyou and which with insults you disregarded, as you disregarded theadvice your older counsellors gave you. "

Gian Maria shrugged his fat shoulders. 

"If by that other advice you mean the counsel that I should takeGuidobaldo's niece to wife, you may give ease unto your patriotic soul. I have consented to enter into this alliance. And now, " he ended, withanother of his infernal chuckles, "you see how little I need dread thisterrible son of Pope Alexander. Allied with Urbino and the other Statesthat are its friends, I can defy the might of Caesar Borgia. I shallsleep tranquil of nights beside my beauteous bride, secure in theprotection her uncle's armies will afford me, and never needing so muchas my valiant cousin's aid as my gonfalonier. "

The Count of Aquila changed colour despite himself, and the Duke'ssuspicious eyes were as quick to observe it as was his mind tomisinterpret its meaning. He registered a vow to set a watch on thissolicitous cousin who offered so readily to bear his gonfalon. 

"I felicitate you, at least, " said Francesco gravely, "upon the wisdomof that step. Had I known of it I had not troubled you with otherproposals for the safety of your State. But, may I ask you, GianMaria, what influences led you to a course which, hitherto, you have soobstinately refused to follow?"

The Duke shrugged his shoulders. 

"They plagued me so, " he lamented, with a grimace, "that in the end Iconsented. I could withstand Lodi and the others, but when my motherjoined them with her prayers--I should say, her commands--and pointedout again my peril to me, I gave way. After all a man must wed. Andsince in my station he need not let his marriage weigh too much uponhim, I resolved on it for the sake of security and peace. "

Since it was the salvation of Babbiano that he aimed at, the Count ofAquila should have rejoiced at Gian Maria's wise resolve, and no otherconsideration should have tempered so encompassing a thing as that joyof his should have been. Yet, when later he left his cousin's presence, the only feeling that he carried with him was a deep and bitterresentment against the Fate that willed such things, blent with asorrowing pity for the girl that was to wed his cousin and a growinghatred for the cousin who made him pity her. 

CHAPTER VI. THE AMOROUS DUKE

From a window of the Palace of Babbiano the Lord of Aquila watched theamazing bustle in the courtyard below, and at his side stood Fanfulladegli Arcipreti, whom he had summoned from Perugia with assurances that, Masuccio being dead, no peril now menaced him. 

It was a week after that interview at which Gian Maria had made knownhis intentions to his cousin, and his Highness was now upon the pointof setting out for Urbino, to perform the comedy of wooing the LadyValentina. This was the explanation of that scurrying of servitors andpages, that parading of men-at-arms, and that stamping of horses andmules in the quadrangle below. Francesco watched the scene with a smileof some bitterness, his companion with one of supreme satisfaction. 

"Praised be Heaven for having brought his Highness at last to a sense ofhis duty, " remarked the courtier. 

"It has often happened to me, " said Francesco, disregarding hiscompanion's words, "to malign the Fates for having brought me into theworld a count. But in the future I shall give them thanks, for I see howmuch worse it might have been--I might have been born a prince, witha duchy to rule over. I might have been as that poor man, my cousin, acreature whose life is all pomp and no real dignity, all merry­makingand no real mirth--loveless, isolated and vain. "

"But, " cried the amazed Fanfulla, "assuredly there are compensations?"

"You see that bustle. You know what it portends. What compensation canthere be for that?"

"It is a question you should be the last to ask, my lord. You have seenthe niece of Guidobaldo, and having seen her, can you still ask whatcompensation does this marriage offer Gian Maria?"

"Do you, then, not understand?" returned Aquila, with a wan smile. "Doyou not see the tragedy of it? Is it nothing that two States, havingfound that this marriage would be mutually advantageous, have determinedthat it shall take place? That meanwhile the chief actors--thevictims, I might almost call them--have no opportunity of selecting forthemselves. Gian Maria goes about it resignedly. He will tell you thathe has always known that some day he must wed and do his best to begeta son. He held out long enough against this alliance, but now thatnecessity is driving him at last, he goes about it much as he would goabout any other State affair--a coronation, a banquet, or a ball. Canyou wonder now that I would not accept the throne of Babbiano whenit was offered me? I tell you, Fanfulla, that were I at present in mycousin's shoes, I would cast crown and purple at whomsoever had a fancyfor them ere they crushed the life out of me and left me a poor puppet. Sooner than endure that hollow mockery of a life I would become apeasant or a vassal; I would delve the earth and lead a humble life, butlead it in my own way, and thank God for the freedom of it; choose myown comrades; live as I list, where I list; love as I list, where Ilist, and die when God pleases with the knowledge that my life had notbeen altogether barren. And that poor girl, Fanfulla! Think of her. Sheis to be joined in loveless union to such a gross, unfeeling clod asGian Maria. Have you no pity for her?"

Fanfulla sighed, his brow clouded. 

"I am not so dull but that I can see why you should reason thus to-day, "said he. "These thoughts have come to you since you have seen her. "

Franceseo sighed deeply. 

"Who knows?" he made answer wistfully. "In the few moments that wetalked together, in the little time that I beheld her, it may be thatshe dealt me a wound far deeper than the one to which she so mercifullysought to minister. "

Now for all that in what the Lord of Aquila said touching the projectedunion there was a deal of justice, yet when he asserted that the chiefactors were to have no opportunity of selecting for themselves, he saidtoo much. That opportunity they were to have. It occurred three dayslater at Urbino, when the Duke and Valentina were brought togetherat the banquet of welcome given by Guidobaldo to his intendednephew-in-law. The sight of her resplendent beauty came as a joyfulshock to Gian Maria, and filled him with as much impatience to possessher as did his own gross ugliness render him offensive in her eyes. Averse had she been to this wedding from the moment that it had beenbroached to her. The sight of Gian Maria completed her loathing of thepart assigned her, and in her heart she registered a vow that soonerthan become the Duchess of Babbiano, she would return to her Convent ofSanta Sofia and take the veil. 

Gian Maria sat beside her at the banquet, and in the intervals ofeating--which absorbed him mightily--he whispered compliments at whichshe shuddered and turned pale. The more strenuously did he strive toplease, in his gross and clumsy fashion, the more did he succeedin repelling and disgusting her, until, in the end, with all hisfatuousness, he came to deem her oddly cold. Of this, anon, he madecomplaint to that magnificent prince, her uncle. But Guidobaldo scoffedat his qualms. 

"Do you account my niece a peasant girl?" he asked. "Would you have hersmirk and squirm at every piece of flattery you utter? So that she wedsyour Highness what shall the rest signify?"

"I would she loved me a little, " complained Gian Maria foolishly. 

Guidobaldo looked him over with an eye that smiled inscrutably, and itmay have crossed his mind that this coarse, white-faced Duke was tooambitious. 

"I doubt not that she will, " he answered, in tones as inscrutable ashis glance. "So that you woo with grace and ardour, what woman couldwithstand your Highness? Be not put off by such modesty as becomes amaid. "

Those words of Guidobaldo's breathed new courage into him. Nor everafter could he think that her coldness was other than a cloak, a sort ofmaidenly garment behind which modesty bade her conceal the inclinationsof her heart. Reasoning thus, and having in support of it his wondrousfatuity, it so befell that the more she shunned and avoided him, themore did he gather conviction of the intensity of her affection; themore loathing she betrayed, the more proof did it afford him of theconsuming quality of her passion. In the end, he went even so far as toapplaud and esteem in her this very maidenly conduct. 

There were hunting-parties, hawking-parties, water-parties, banquets, comedies, balls, and revels of every description, and for a week allwent well at Urbino. Then, as suddenly as if a cannon had been firedupon the Palace, the festivities were interrupted. The news that anenvoy of Caesar Borgia's was at Babbiano with a message from his mastercame like a cold douche upon Gian Maria. It was borne to him in a letterfrom Fabrizio da Lodi, imploring his immediate return to treat with thisplenipotentiary of Valentino's. 

No longer did he disregard the peril that threatened him from theall-conquering Borgia, no longer deem exaggerated by his advisers thecause for fear. This sudden presence of Valentino's messenger, coming, too, at a time when it would almost seem as if the impending unionwith Urbino had spurred the Borgia to act before the alliance wasestablished, filled him with apprehension. 

In one of the princely chambers that had been set aside for his useduring his visit to Urbino he discussed the tragic news with the twonobles who had accompanied him--Alvaro de Alvari and Gismondo Santi--andboth of them, whilst urging him to take the advice of Lodi and return atonce, urged him, too, to establish his betrothal ere he left. 

"Bring the matter to an issue at once, your Highness, " said Santi, "and thus you will go back to Babbiano well-armed to meet the DucaValentino's messenger. "

Readily accepting this advice, Gian Maria went in quest of Guidobaldo, and laid before him his proposals, together with the news whichhad arrived and which was the cause of the haste he now manifested. Guidobaldo listened gravely. In its way the news affected him as well, for he feared the might of Caesar Borgia as much as any man in Italy, and he was, by virtue of it, the readier to hasten forward an alliancewhich should bring another of the neighbouring states into the powerfulcoalition he was forming. 

"It shall be as you wish, " answered him the gracious Lord of Urbino, "and the betrothal shall be proclaimed to-day, so that you can bear newsof it to Valentino's messenger. When you have heard this envoy, deliverhim an answer of such defiance or such caution as you please. Thenreturn in ten days' time to Urbino, and all shall be ready for thenuptials. But, first of all, go you and tell Monna Valentina. "

Confident of success, Gian Maria obeyed his host, and went in quest ofthe lady. He gained her ante-chamber, and thence he despatched an idlingpage to request of her the honour of an audience. 

As the youth passed through the door that led to the room beyond, GianMaria caught for a moment the accents of an exquisite male voice singinga love-song to the accompaniment of a lute. 

 "Una donna pił bella assai che 'l sole... "

came the words of Petrarch, and he heard them still, though muffled, fora moment or two after the boy had gone. Then it ceased abruptly, anda pause followed, at the end of which the page returned. Raising theportičre of blue and gold, he invited Gian Maria to enter. 

It was a room that spoke with eloquence of the wealth and refinementof Montefeltro, from the gilding and ultramarine of the vaulted ceilingwith its carved frieze of delicately inlaid woodwork, to the pricelesstapestries beneath it. Above a crimson prie-dieu hung a silver crucifix, the exquisite workmanship of the famous Anichino of Ferrara. Yonderstood an inlaid cabinet, surmounted by a crystal mirror and some wondersof Murano glass. There was a picture by Mantegna, some costly cameos anddelicate enamels, an abundance of books, a dulcimer which a fair-hairedpage was examining with inquisitive eyes, and by a window on the rightstood a very handsome harp that Guidobaldo had bought his niece inVenice. 

In that choice apartment of hers the Duke found Valentina surroundedby her ladies, Peppe the fool, a couple of pages, and a half-dozengentlemen of her uncle's court. One of these--that same Gonzaga who hadescorted her from the Convent of Santa Sofia--most splendidly arrayed inwhite taby, his vest and doublet rich with gold, sat upon a low stool, idly fingering the lute in his lap, from which Gian Maria inferred thathis had been the voice that had reached him in the ante-chamber. 

At the Duke's advent they all rose saving Valentina and received himwith a ceremony that somewhat chilled his ardour. He advanced; thenhalted clumsily, and in a clumsy manner framed a request that he mightspeak with her alone. In a tired, long-suffering way she dismissed thatcourt of hers, and Gian Maria stood waiting until the last of them hadpassed out through the tall windows that abutted on to a delightfulterrace, where, in the midst of a green square, a marble fountainflashed and glimmered in the sunlight. 

"Lady, " he said, when they were at last alone, "I have news fromBabbiano that demands my instant return. " And he approached her byanother step. 

In truth he was a dull-witted fellow or else too blinded by fatuityto see and interpret aright the sudden sparkle in her eye, the sudden, unmistakable expression of relief that spread itself upon her face. 

"My lord, " she answered, in a low, collected voice, "we shall grieve atyour departure. "

Fool of a Duke that he was! Blind, crass and most fatuous of wooers! Hadhe been bred in courts and his ears attuned to words that meant nothing, that were but the empty echoes of what should have been meant; was he sonew to courtesies in which the heart had no share, that those words ofValentina's must bring him down upon his knees beside her, to takeher dainty fingers in his fat hands, and to become transformed into aboorish lover of the most outrageous type?

"Shall you so?" he lisped, his glance growing mighty amorous. "Shall youindeed grieve?"

She rose abruptly to her feet. 

"I beg that your Highness will rise, " she enjoined him coldly, acoldness which changed swiftly to alarm as her endeavours to release herhand proved vain. For despite her struggles he held on stoutly. This wasmere coyness, he assured himself, mere maidenly artifice which he mustbear with until he had overcome it for all time. 

"My lord, I implore you!" she continued. "Bethink you of where youare--of who you are. "

"Here will I stay until the crack of doom, " he answered, with an oddmixture of humour, ardour and ferocity, "unless you consent to listen tome. "

"I am ready to listen, my lord, " she answered, without veiling arepugnance that he lacked the wit to see. "But it is not necessary thatyou should hold my hand, nor fitting that you should kneel. "

"Not fitting?" he exclaimed. "Lady, you do not apprehend me rightly. Is it not fitting that all of us--be we princes or vassals--shall kneelsometimes?"

"At your prayers, my lord, yes, most fitting. "

"And is not a man at his prayers when he woos? What fitter shrine in allthe world than his mistress's feet?"

"Release me, " she commanded, still struggling. "Your Highness growstiresome and ridiculous. "

"Ridiculous?"

His great, sensual mouth fell open. His white cheeks grew mottled, andhis little eyes looked up with a mighty evil gleam in their cruel blue. A moment he stayed so, then he rose up. He released her hands as she hadbidden him, but he clutched her arms instead, which was yet worse. 

"Valentina, " he said, in a voice that was far from steady, "why do youuse me thus unkindly?"

"But I do not, " she protested wearily, drawing back with a shudder fromthe white face that was so near her own, inspiring her with a loathingshe could not repress. "I would not have your Highness look foolish, andyou cannot conceive how----"

"Can you conceive how deeply, how passionately I love you?" he broke in, his grasp tightening. 

"My lord, you are hurting me!"

"And are you not hurting me?" he snarled. "What is a pinched arm whencompared with such wounds as your eyes are dealing me? Are you not----"

She had twisted from his grasp, and in a bound she had reached thewindow-door through which her attendants had passed. 

"Valentina!" he cried, as he sprang after her, and it was more like thegrowl of a beast than the cry of a lover. He caught her, and with scantceremony he dragged her back into the room. 

At this, her latent loathing, contempt and indignation rose up in arms. Never had she heard tell of a woman of her rank being used in thisfashion. She abhorred him, yet she had spared him the humiliation ofhearing it from her lips, intending to fight for her liberty withher uncle. But now, since he handled her as though she had been aserving-wench; since he appeared to know nothing of the deference dueto her, nothing of the delicacies of people well-born and well-bred, she would endure his odious love-making no further. Since he electedto pursue his wooing like a clown, the high-spirited daughter of Urbinopromised herself that in like fashion would she deal with him. 

Swinging herself free from his grasp a second time, she caught him astinging buffet on the ducal cheek which--so greatly did it take him bysurprise--all but sent him sprawling. 

"Madonna!" he panted. "This indignity to me!"

"And what indignities have not I suffered at your hands?" she retorted, with a fierceness of glance before which he recoiled. And as she nowtowered before him, a beautiful embodiment of wrath, he knew not whetherhe loved her more than he feared her, yet the desire to possess her andto tame her was strong within him. 

"Am I a baggage of your camps, " she questioned furiously, "to be sohandled by you? Do you forget that I am the niece of Guidobaldo, a ladyof the house of Rovere, and that from my cradle I have known naught butthe respect of all men, be they born never so high? That to such by mybirth I have the right? Must I tell you in plain words, sir, that thoughborn to a throne, your manners are those of a groom? And must I tellyou, ere you will realise it, that no man to whom with my own lips Ihave not given the right, shall set hands upon me as you have done?"

Her eyes flashed, her voice rose, and higher raged the storm; and GianMaria was so tossed and shattered by it that he could but humbly sue forpardon. 

"What shall it signify that I am a Duke, " he pleaded timidly, "sinceI am become a lover? What is a Duke then? He is but a man, and as themeanest of his subjects his love must take expression. For what doeslove know of rank?"

She was moving towards the window again, and for all that he dared not asecond time arrest her by force, he sought by words to do so. 

"Madonna, " he exclaimed, "I implore you to hear me. In another hour Ishall be in the saddle, on my way to Babbiano. "

"That, sir, " she answered him, "is the best news I have heard since yourcoming. " And without waiting for his reply, she stepped through the openwindow on to the terrace. 

For a second he hesitated, a sense of angry humiliation oppressing hiswits. Then he started to follow her; but as he reached the window thelittle crook-backed figure of Ser Peppe stood suddenly before him with atinkle of bells, and a mocking grin illumining his face. 

"Out of the way, fool, " growled the angry Duke. But the odd figure inits motley of red and black continued where it stood. 

"If it is Madonna Valentina you seek, " said he, "behold her yonder. "

And Gian Maria, following the indication of Peppe's lean finger, sawthat she had rejoined her ladies and that thus his opportunity ofspeaking with her was at an end. He turned his shoulder upon the jester, and moved ponderously towards the door by which he had originallyentered the room. It had been well for Ser Peppe had he let him go. Butthe fool, who loved his mistress dearly, and had many of the instinctsof the faithful dog, loving where she loved and hating where she hated, could not repress the desire to send a gibe after the retreating figure, and inflict another wound in that much wounded spirit. 

"You find it a hard road to Madonna's heart, Magnificent, " he calledafter him. "Where your wisdom is blind be aided by the keen eyes offolly. "

The Duke stood still. A man more dignified would have left thattreacherous tongue unheeded. But Dignity and Gian Maria were strangers. He turned, and eyed the figure that now followed him into the room. 

"You have knowledge to sell, " he guessed contemptuously. 

"Knowledge I have--a vast store--but none for sale, Lord Duke. Such asimports you I will bestow if you ask me, for no more than the joy ofbeholding you smile. "

"Say on, " the Duke bade him, without relaxing the grimness thattightened his flabby face. 

Peppe bowed. 

"It were an easy thing, most High and Mighty, to win the love of Madonnaif----" He paused dramatically. 

"Yes, yes. E dunque! If----?"

"If you had the noble countenance, the splendid height, the shapelylimbs, the courtly speech and princely manner of one I wot of. "

"Are you deriding me?" the Duke questioned, unbelieving. 

"Ah, no, Highness! I do but tell you how it were possible that my ladymight come to love you. Had you those glorious attributes of him I speakof, and of whom she dreams, it might be easy. But since God fashionedyou such as you are--gross of countenance, fat and stunted of shape, boorish of----"

With a roar the infuriated Duke was upon him. But the fool, as nimble oflegs as he was of tongue, eluded the vicious grasp of those fat hands, and leaping through the window, ran to the shelter of his mistress'spetticoats. 

CHAPTER VII. GONZAGA THE INSIDIOUS

Well indeed had it been for Ser Peppe had he restrained his maliciousmood and curbed the mocking speech that had been as vinegar toGian Maria's wounds. For when Gian Maria was sore he was wont to bevindictive, and on the present occasion he was something even more. 

There abode with him the memory of the fool's words, and the suggestionthat in the heart of Valentina was framed the image of some other man. Now, loving her, in his own coarse way, and as he understood love, therejected Duke waxed furiously jealous of this other at whose existencePeppe had hinted. This unknown stood in his path to Valentina, and toclear that path it suggested itself to Gian Maria that the simplestmethod was to remove the obstacle. But first he must discover it, andto this he thought, with a grim smile, the fool might--willy-nilly--helphim. 

He returned to his own apartments, and whilst the preparations forhis departure were toward, he bade Alvaro summon Martin Armstadt--thecaptain of his guard. To the latter his orders were short and secret. 

"Take four men, " he bade him, "and remain in Urbino after I am gone. Discover the haunts of Peppe the fool. Seize him, and bring him afterme. See that you do it diligently, and let no suspicion of your taskarise. "

The bravo--he was little better, for all that he commanded the guards ofthe Duke of Babbiano--bowed, and answered in his foreign, guttural voicethat his Highness should be obeyed. 

Thereafter Gian Maria made shift to depart. He took his leave ofGuidobaldo, promising to return within a few days for the nuptials, andleaving an impression upon the mind of his host that his interview withValentina had been very different from the actual. 

It was from Valentina herself that Guidobaldo was to learn, after GianMaria's departure, the true nature of that interview, and what hadpassed between his niece and his guest. She sought him out in hiscloset, whither he had repaired, driven thither by the demon of goutthat already inhabited his body, and was wont to urge him at times toisolate himself from his court. She found him reclining upon a couch, seeking distraction in a volume of the prose works of Piccinino. He wasa handsome man, of excellent shape, scarce thirty years of age. His facewas pale, and there were dark circles round his eyes, and lines of painabout his strong mouth. 

He sat up at her advent, and setting his book upon the table beside him, he listened to her angry complaints. 

At first, the courtly Montefeltro inclined to anger upon learning ofthe roughness with which Gian Maria had borne himself. But presently hesmiled. 

"When all is said, I see in this no great cause for indignation, " heassured her. "I acknowledge that it may lack the formality that shouldattend the addresses of a man in the Duke's position to a lady in yours. But since he is to wed you, and that soon, why be angered at that heseeks to pay his court like any other man?"

"I have talked in vain, then, " she answered petulantly, "and I ammisunderstood. I do not intend to wed this ducal clod you have chosen tobe my husband. "

Guidobaldo stared at her with brows raised, and wonder in his fineeyes. Then he shrugged his shoulders a trifle wearily. This handsome andwell-beloved Guidobaldo was very much a prince, so schooled to princelyways as to sometimes forget that he was a man. 

"We forgive much to the impetuousness of youth, " said he, very coldly. "But there are bounds to the endurance of every one of us. As your uncleand your prince, I claim a double duty from you, and you owe a doubleallegiance to my wishes. By my twofold authority I have commanded you towed with Gian Maria. "

The princess in her was all forgotten, and it was just the woman whoanswered him, in a voice of protest:

"But, Highness, I do not love him. "

A shade of impatience crossed his lofty face. 

"I do not remember, " he made answer wearily, "that I loved your aunt. Yet we were wed, and through habit came to love each other and to behappy together. "

"I can understand that Monna Elizabetta should have come to love you, "she returned. "You are not as Gian Maria. You were not fat and ugly, stupid and cruel, as is he. "

It was an appeal that might have won its way to a man's heart throughthe ever-ready channel of his vanity. But it did not so with Guidobaldo. He only shook his head. 

"The matter is not one that I will argue. It were unworthy in us both. Princes, my child, are not as ordinary folk. "

"In what are they different?" she flashed back at him. "Do they nothunger and thirst as ordinary folk? Are they not subject to the sameills; do they not experience the same joys? Are they not born, and dothey not die, just as ordinary folk? In what, then, lies this differencethat forbids them to mate as ordinary folk?"

Guidobaldo tossed his arms to Heaven, his eyes full of a consternationthat clearly defied utterance. The violence of his gesture drew a gaspof pain from him. At last, when he had mastered it:

"They are different, " said he, "in that their lives are not their own todispose of as they will. They belong to the State which they were bornto govern, and in nothing else does this become of so much importanceas in their mating. It behoves them to contract such alliances as shallredound to the advantage of their people. " A toss of her auburn head wasValentina's interpolation, but her uncle continued relentlessly in hiscold, formal tones--such tones as those in which he might have addressedan assembly of his captains:

"In the present instance we are threatened--Babbiano and Urbino--bya common foe. And whilst divided, neither of us could withstand him, united, we shall combine to his overthrow. Therefore does this alliancebecome necessary--imperative. "

"I do not apprehend the necessity, " she answered, in a voice thatbreathed defiance. "If such an alliance as you speak of is desirable, why may it not be made a purely political one--such a one, for instance, as now binds Perugia and Camerino to you? What need to bring me intoquestion?"

"A little knowledge of history would afford you an answer. Suchpolitical alliances are daily made, and daily broken when more profitoffers in another quarter. But cemented by marriage, the tie, whilstcontinuing political, becomes also one of blood. In the case of Urbinoand Babbiano it enters also into consideration that I have no son. Itmight well be, Valentina, " he pursued, with a calculating coldness thatrevolted her, "that a son of yours would yet more strongly link the twoduchies. In time both might become united under him into one great powerthat might vie successfully with any in Italy. Now leave me, child. As you see, I am suffering, and when it is thus with me, and this eviltyrant has me in its clutches, I prefer to be alone. "

There was a pause, and whilst his eyes were upon hers, hers were uponthe ground in avoidance of his glance. A frown marred her white brow, her lips were set and her hands clenched. Pity for his physical illsfought a while with pity for her own mental torment. At last she threwback her beautiful head, and the manner of that action was instinct withinsubordination. 

"It grieves me to harass your Highness in such a season, " she assuredhim, "but I must beg your indulgence. These things may be as you say. Your plans may be the noblest that were ever conceived, since to theirconsummation would be entailed the sacrifice of your own flesh andblood--in the person of your niece. But I will have no part in them. It may be that I lack a like nobility of soul; it may be that I am allunworthy of the high station to which I was born, through no fault of myown. And so, my lord, " she ended, her voice, her face, her gesture, allimparting an irrevocable finality to her words, "I will not wed thisDuke of Babbiano--no, not to cement alliances with a hundred duchies. "

"Valentina!" he exclaimed, roused out of his wonted calm. "Do you forgetthat you are my niece?"

"Since you appear to have forgotten it. "

"These woman's whims----" he began, when she interrupted him. 

"Perhaps they will serve to remind you that I am a woman, and perhaps ifyou remember that, you may consider how very natural it is that, being awoman, I should refuse to wed for--for political ends. "

"To your chamber, " he commanded, now thoroughly aroused. "And on yourknees beg Heaven's grace to help you to see your duty, since no words ofmine prevail. "

"Oh, that the Duchess were returned from Mantua, " she sighed. "The goodMonna Elizabetta might melt you to some pity. "

"Monna Elizabetta is too dutiful herself to do aught but urge you todutifulness. There, child, " he added, in a more wheedling tone, "setaside this disobedient mood, which is unlike you and becomes you ill. You shall be wed with a splendour and magnificence that will set everyprincess in Italy green with envy. Your dowry is set at fifty thousandducats, and Giuliano della Rovere shall pronounce the benediction. Already I have sent orders to Ferrara, to the incomparable Anichino, forthe majestate girdle; I will send to Venice for gold leaf and----"

"But do you not heed me that I will not wed?" she broke in withpassionate calm, her face white, her bosom heaving. 

He rose, leaning heavily upon a gold-headed cane, and looked at her amoment without speaking, his brows contracted. Then:

"Your betrothal to Gian Maria is proclaimed, " he announced in a voicecold with finality. "I have passed my word to the Duke, and yourmarriage shall take place so soon as he returns. Now go. Such scenes asthese are wearisome to a sick man, and they are undignified. "

"But, your Highness, " she began, an imploring note now taking the placethat lately had been held by defiance. 

"Go!" he blazed, stamping his foot, and then to save his dignity--forhe feared that she might still remain--he himself turned on his heel andpassed from the apartment. 

Left to herself, she stood there a moment, allowed a sigh to escapeher, and brushed an angry tear from her brown eyes. Then, with a suddenmovement that seemed to imply suppression of her mood, she walked to thedoor by which she entered, and left the chamber. 

She went down the long gallery, whose walls glowed with the new frescoesfrom the wonder-working brush of Andrea Mantegna; she crossed herante-chamber and gained the very room where some hours ago she hadreceived the insult of Gian Maria's odious advances. She passed throughthe now empty room, and stepped out on to the terrace that overlookedthe paradise-like gardens of the Palace. 

Close by the fountain stood a white marble seat, over which, earlierthat day, one of her women had thrown a cloak of crimson velvet. Thereshe now sat herself to think out the monstrous situation that beset her. The air was warm and balmy and heavy with the scent of flowers from thegarden below. The splashing of the fountain seemed to soothe her, andfor a little while her eyes were upon that gleaming water, which rosehigh in a crystal column, then broke and fell, a shower of glitteringjewels, into the broad marble basin. Then, her eyes growing tired, they strayed to the marble balustrade, where a peacock strode withoverweening dignity; they passed on to the gardens below, gay with earlyblossoms, in their stately frames of tall, boxwood hedges, and flankedby myrtles and tall cypresses standing gaunt and black against the deepsaffron of the vesper sky. 

Saving the splashing of the fountain, and the occasional harsh screamof the peacock, all was at peace, as if by contrast with the tumult thatraged in Valentina's soul. Then another sound broke the stillness--asoft step, crunching the gravel of the walk. She turned, and behind herstood the magnificent Gonzaga, a smile that at once reflected pleasureand surprise upon his handsome face. 

"Alone, Madonna?" he said, in accents of mild wonder, his fingers softlystirring the strings of the lute he carried, and without which he seldomappeared about the Court. 

"As you see, " she answered, and her tone was the tone of one whosethoughts are taken up with other things. 

Her glance moved away from him again, and in a moment it seemed as ifshe had forgotten his presence, so absorbed grew the expression of herface. 

But Gonzaga was not easily discouraged. Patience was the one virtuethat Valentina more than any woman--and there had been many in hisyoung life--had inculcated into a soul that in the main was anything butvirtuous. He came a step nearer, and leant lightly against the edge ofher seat, his shapely legs crossed, his graceful body inclining ever soslightly towards her. 

"You are pensive, Madonna, " he murmured, in his rich, caressing voice. 

"Why then, " she reproved him, but in a mild tone, "do you intrude uponmy thoughts?"

"Because they seem sad thoughts, Madonna. " he answered, glibly, "and Iwere a poor friend did I not seek to rouse you out of them. "

"You are that, Gonzaga?" she questioned, without looking at him. "Youare my friend?"

He seemed to quiver and then draw himself upright, whilst across hisface there swept a shade of something that may have been good or bad orpartly both. Then he leant down until his head came very near her own. 

"Your friend?" quoth he. "Ah, more than your friend. Count me your veryslave, Madonna. "

She looked at him now, and in his countenance she saw a reflection ofthe ardour that had spoken in his voice. In his eyes there was a glanceof burning intensity. She drew away from him, and at first he accountedhimself repulsed, but pointing to the space she had left:

"Sit here beside me, Gonzaga, " she said quietly, and he, scarcecrediting his own good fortune that so much favour should be showeredupon him, obeyed her in a half-timid fashion that was at odd variancewith his late bold words. 

He laughed lightly, perhaps to cover the embarrassment that beset him, and dropping his jewelled cap, he flung one white-cased leg over theother and took his lute in his lap, his fingers again wandering to thestrings. 

"I have a new song, Madonna, " he announced, with a gaiety that wasobviously forced. "It is in ottava rima, a faint echo of the immortalNiccolo Correggio, composed in honour of one whose description is beyondthe flight of human song. "

"Yet you sing of her?"

"It is no better than an acknowledgment of the impossibility to sing ofher. Thus----" And striking a chord or two, he began, a mezza voce:

 "Quando sorriderįn' in ciel Gli occhi tuoi ai santi--"

She laid a hand upon his arm to stay him. 

"Not now, Gonzaga, " she begged, "I am in no humour for your song, sweetthough I doubt not that it be. "

A shade of disappointment and ruffled vanity crossed his face. Womenhad been wont to listen greedily to his strambotti, enthralled by thecunning of the words and the seductive sweetness of his voice. 

"Ah, never look so glum, " she cried, smiling now at his crestfallen air. "If I have not hearkened now, I will again. Forgive me, good Gonzaga, "she begged him, with a sweetness no man could have resisted. And then asigh fluttered from her lips; a sound that was like a sob came after it, and her hand closed upon his arm. 

"They are breaking my heart, my friend. Oh, that you had left me atpeace in the Convent of Santa Sofia!"

He turned to her, all solicitude and gentleness, to inquire the reasonof her outburst. 

"It is this odious alliance into which they seek to force me with thatman from Babbiano. I have told Guidobaldo that I will not wed this Duke. But as profitably might I tell Fate that I will not die. The one is asunheeding as the other. "

Gonzaga sighed profoundly, in sympathy, but said nothing. 

Here was a grief to which he could not minister, a grievance thathe could do nothing to remove. She turned from him with a gesture ofimpatience. 

"You sigh, " she exclaimed, "and you bewail the cruelty of the fate instore for me. But you can do nothing for me. You are all words, Gonzaga. You can call yourself more than my friend--my very slave. Yet, when Ineed your help, what do you offer me? A sigh!"

"Madonna, you are unjust, " he was quick to answer, with some heat. "Idid not dream--I did not dare to dream--that it was my help you sought. My sympathy, I believed, was all that you invited, and so, lest I shouldseem presumptuous, it was all I offered. But if my help you need; if youseek a means to evade this alliance that you rightly describe as odious, such help as it lies in a man's power to render shall you have from me. "

He spoke almost fiercely and with a certain grim confidence, for allthat as yet no plan had formed itself in his mind. 

Indeed, had a course been clear to him, there had been perhaps lessconfidence in his tone, for, after all, he was not by nature a manof action, and his character was the very reverse of valiant. Yet soexcellent an actor was he as to deceive even himself by his acting, andin this suggestion of some vague fine deeds that he would do, he felthimself stirred by a sudden martial ardour, and capable of all. He wasstirred, too, by the passion with which Valentina's beauty filledhim--a passion that went nearer to making a man of him than Nature hadsucceeded in doing. 

That now, in the hour of her need, she should turn so readily to him forassistance, he accepted as proof that she was not deaf to the voice ofthis great love he bore her, but of which he never yet had dared to showa sign. The passing jelousy that he had entertained for that woundedknight they had met at Acquasparta was laid to rest by her presentattitude towards him, the knight, himself forgotten. 

As for Valentina, she listened to his ready speech and earnest tone withgrowing wonder both at him and at herself. Her own words had been littlemore than a petulant outburst. Of actually finding a way to elude heruncle's wishes she had no thought--unless it lay in carrying out thatthreat of hers to take the veil. Now, however, that Gonzaga spoke sobravely of doing what man could do to help her to evade that marriage, the thought of active resistance took an inviting shape. 

A timid hope--a hope that was afraid of being shattered before it grewto any strength--peeped now from the wondering eyes she turned on hercompanion. 

"Is there a way, Gonzaga?" she asked, after a pause. 

Now during that pause his mind had been very busy. Something of a poet, he was blessed with wits of a certain quickness, and was a man of veryready fancy. Like an inspiration an idea had come to him; out of thishad sprung another, and yet another, until a chain of events bywhich the frustration of the schemes of Babbiano and Urbino might beaccomplished, was complete. 

"I think, " he said slowly, his eyes upon the ground, "that I know away. "

Her glance was now eager, her lip tremulous, and her face a little pale. She leant towards him. 

"Tell me, " she besought him feverishly. 

He set his lute on the seat beside him, and his eyes looked round inapprehensive survey. 

"Not here, " he muttered. "There are too many ears in the Palace ofUrbino. Will it please you to walk in the gardens? I will tell youthere. "

They rose together, so ready was her assent. They looked at each otherfor a second. Then, side by side, they passed down the wide marble stepsthat led from the terrace to the box-flanked walks of the gardens. Here, among the lengthening shadows, they paced in silence for a while, whattime Gonzaga sought for words in which to propound his plan. At length, grown impatient, Valentina urged him with a question. 

"What I counsel, Madonna, " he answered her, "is open defiance. "

"Such a course I am already pursuing. But whither will it lead me?"

"I do not mean the mere defiance of words--mere protestations that youwill not wed Gian Maria. Listen, Madonna! The Castle of Roccaleone isyour property. It is perhaps the stoutest fortress in all Italy, to-day. Lightly garrisoned and well-provisioned it might withstand a year'ssiege. "

She turned to him, having guessed already the proposal in his mind, and for all that at first her eyes looked startled, yet presentlythey kindled to a light of daring that augured well for a very stoutadventure. It was a wildly romantic notion, this of Gonzaga's, worthy ofa poet's perfervid brain, and yet it attracted her by its unprecedentedflavour. 

"Could it be done?" she wondered, her eyes sparkling at the anticipationof such a deed. 

"It could, indeed it could, " he answered, with an eagerness no whit lessthan her own. "Immure yourself in Roccaleone, and thence hurl defianceat Urbino and Babbiano, refusing to surrender until they grant yourterms--that you are to marry as you list. "

"And you will help me in this?" she questioned, her mind--in itsinnocence--inclining more and more to the mad project. 

"With all my strength and wit, " he answered, readily and gallantly. "Iwill so victual the place that it shall be able to stand siege for awhole year, should the need arise, and I will find you the men to armit--a score will, I should think, be ample for our needs, since it ismainly upon the natural strength of the place that we rely. "

"And then, " said she, "I shall need a captain. "

Gonzaga made her a low bow. 

"If you will honour me with the office, Madonna, I shall serve youloyally whilst I have life. "

A smile quivered for a second on her lips, but was gone ere the courtierhad straightened himself from his bow, for far was it from her wishesto wound his spirit. But the notion of this scented fop in the roleof captain, ruling a handful of rough mercenaries, and directing theoperations for the resistance of an assiduous siege, touched her withits ludicrous note. Yet, if she refused him this, it was more thanlikely he would deem himself offended, and refuse to advance theirplans. It crossed her mind--in the full confidence of youth--that if heshould fail her when the hour of action came, she was of stout enoughheart to aid herself. And so she consented, whereat again he bowed, thistime in gratitude. And then a sudden thought occurred to her, and withit came dismay. 

"But for all this, Gonzaga--for the men and the victualling--money willbe needed. "

"If you will let my friendship be proven also in that----" he began. 

But she interrupted him, struck suddenly with a solution to the riddle. 

"No, no!" she exclaimed. His face fell a little. He had hoped to placeher in his debt in every possible way, yet here was one in which sheraised a barrier. Upon her head she wore a fret of gold, so richly lacedwith pearls as to be worth a prince's ransom. This she now made haste tounfasten with fingers that excitement set a-tremble. "There!" she cried, holding it out to him. "Turn that to money, my friend. It should yieldyou ducats enough for this enterprise. "

It next occurred to her that she could not go alone into that castlewith just Gonzaga and the men he was about to enrol. His answer camewith a promptness that showed he had considered, also, that. 

"By no means, " he answered her. "When the time comes you must selectsuch of your ladies--say three or four--as appear suitable and haveyour trust. You may take a priest as well, a page or two, and a fewservants. "

Thus, in the gloaming, amid the shadows of that old Italian garden, was the plot laid by which Valentina was to escape alliance with hisHighness of Babbiano. But there was more than that in it, althoughthat was all that Valentina saw. It was, too, a plot by which she mightbecome the wife of Messer Romeo Gonzaga. 

He was an exiled member of that famous Mantua family, which has bredsome scoundrels and one saint. With the money which, at parting, adoting mother had bestowed upon him, he was cutting a brave figure atthe Urbino court, where he was tolerated by virtue of his kinship withGuidobaldo's Duchess, Monna Elizabetta. But his means were running low, and it behoved him to turn his attention to such quarters as might yieldhim profit. Being poor-spirited, and--since his tastes had not inclinedthat way--untrained in arms, it would have been futile for him to havesought the career common to adventurers of his age. Yet an adventurerat heart he was, and since the fields of Mars were little suited to hisnature, he had long pondered upon the possibilities afforded him bythe lists of Cupid. Guidobaldo--purely out of consideration for MonnaElizabetta--had shown him a high degree of favour, and upon this he hadbeen vain enough to found great hopes--for Guidobaldo had two nieces. High had these hopes run when he was chosen to escort the lovelyValentina della Rovere from the Convent of Santa Sofia to her uncle'scourt. But of late they had withered, since he had learnt what were heruncle's plans for this lady's future. And now, by her own action, and bythe plot into which she had entered with him, they rose once more. 

To thwart Guidobaldo might prove a dangerous thing, and his life mightpay the forfeit if his schemes miscarried--clement and merciful thoughGuidobaldo was. But if they succeeded, and if by love or by forcehe could bring Valentina to wed him, he was tolerably confident thatGuidobaldo, seeing matters had gone too far--since Gian Maria wouldcertainly refuse to wed Gonzaga's widow--would let them be. To this endno plan could be more propitious than that into which he had lured her. Guidobaldo might besiege them in Roccaleone and might eventually reducethem by force of arms--a circumstance, however, which, despite hiswords, he deemed extremely remote. But if only he could wed Valentinabefore they capitulated, he thought that he would have little cause tofear any consequences of Guidobaldo's wrath. After all, in so far asbirth and family were concerned, Romeo Gonzaga was nowise the inferiorof his Highness of Urbino. Guidobaldo had yet another niece, and hemight cement with her the desired alliance with Babbiano. 

Alone in the gardens of the Palace, Gonzaga paced after night hadfallen, and with his eyes to the stars that began to fleck the violetsky, he smiled a smile of cunning gratification. He bethought him howwell advised had been his suggestion that they should take a priest toRoccaleone. Unless his prophetic sense led him deeply into error, theywould find work for that priest before the castle was surrendered. 

CHAPTER VIII. AMONG THE DREGS OF WINE

And so it befell that whilst by Guidobaldo's orders the preparations forValentina's nuptials went forward with feverish haste--whilst painters, carvers, and artificers in gold and silver applied themselves to theirhurried tasks; whilst messengers raced to Venice for gold leaf andultramarine for the wedding-chests whilst the nuptial bed was beingbrought from Rome and the chariot from Ferrara; whilst costlystuffs were being collected, and the wedding-garments fashioned--themagnificent Romeo Gonzaga was, on his side, as diligently contriving torender vain all that toil of preparation. 

On the evening of the third day of his conspiring he sat in the roomallotted to him in the Palace of Urbino, and matured his plans. Andso well pleased was he with his self-communion that, as he sat at hiswindow, there was a contented smile upon his lips. 

He allowed his glance to stray adown the slopes of that arid waste ofrocks, to the River Metauro, winding its way to the sea, through fertileplains, and gleaming here silver and yonder gold in the evening light. Not quite so complacently would he have smiled had he deemed theenterprise upon which he was engaging to be of that warlike characterwhich he had represented to Valentina. He did not want for cunning, nor for judgment of the working of human minds, and he very reasonablyopined that once the Lady Valentina immured herself in Roccaleone andsent word to her uncle that she would not wed Gian Maria, nor return tothe Court of Urbino until he passed her his ducal word that she shouldhear no more of the union, the Duke would be the first to capitulate. 

He contended that this might not happen at once--nor did he wish it to;messages would pass, and Guidobaldo would seek by cajolery to win backhis niece. This she would resist, and, in the end her uncle would seethe impassable nature of the situation, and agree to her terms that itmight be ended. That it should come to arms, and that Guidobaldo shouldmove to besiege Roccaleone, he did not for a moment believe--for whatmanner of ridicule would he not draw upon himself from the neighbouringStates? At the worst, even if a siege there was, it would never becarried out with the rigour of ordinary warfare; there would be noassaults, no bombarding; it would be a simple investment, with theobject of intercepting resources, so as to starve the garrison intosubmission--for they would never dream of such victualling as Gonzagawas preparing. 

Thus communed Gonzaga with himself, and the smile enlivening the cornersof his weak mouth grew more thoughtful. He dreamed great dreams thatevening; he had wondrous visions of a future princely power that shouldcome to be his own by virtue of this alliance that he was so skilfullyencompassing--a fool in a fool's paradise, with his folly for onlycompany. 

But for all that, his dreams were wondrous sweet to indulge and hisvisions truly alluring to contemplate. There were plans to be formedand means to be devised for the flight to Roccaleone. There werecalculations to be made; the estimating of victuals, arms, and men; andonce these calculations were complete, there were all these things tobe obtained. The victuals he had already provided for, whilst of arms hehad no need to think; Roccaleone should be well stocked with them. Butthe finding of the men gave him some concern. He had decided to enrol ascore, which was surely the smallest number with which he could make afair show of being martially in earnest. But even though the numberwas modest, where was he to find twenty fellows who reeked so littleof their lives as to embark upon such an enterprise--even if lured bygenerous pay--and thereby incur the ducal displeasure of Guidobaido?

He dressed himself with sober rigour for once in his foppish life, anddescended, after night had fallen, to a tavern in a poor street behindthe Duomo, hoping that there, among the dregs of wine, he might findwhat he required. 

By great good fortune he chanced upon an old freebooting captain, whoonce had been a meaner sort of condottiero, but who was sorely reducedby bad fortune and bad wine. 

The tavern was a dingy, cut-throat place, which the delicate Gonzagahad not entered without a tremor, invoking the saints' protection, andcrossing himself ere he set foot across the threshold. Some pieces ofgoat were being cooked on the embers, in a great fireplace at the endof the room farthest from the door. Before this, Ser Luciano--thetaverner--squatted on his heels and fanned so diligently that a cloudof ashes rose ceiling high and spread itself, together with the noisomesmoke, throughout the squalid chamber. A brass lamp swung from theceiling, and shone freely through that smoke, as shines the moon throughan evening mist. So foully stank the place that at first Gonzaga wasmoved to get him thence. Only the reflection that nowhere in Urbino washe as likely as here to find the thing he sought, impelled him to stiflehis natural squeamishness and remain. He slipped upon some grease, andbarely saved himself from measuring his length upon that filthy floor, a matter which provoked a malicious guffaw from a tattered giant whowatched with interest his mincing advent. 

Perspiring, and with nerves unstrung, the courtier picked his way to atable by the wall, and seated himself upon the coarse deal bench beforeit, praying that he might be left its sole occupant. 

On the opposite wall hung a blackened crucifix and a small holy-waterstoup that had been dry for a generation, and was now a receptacle fordust and a withered sprig of rosemary. Immediately beneath this--in thecompany of a couple of tatterdemalions worthy of him--sat the giantwho had mocked his escape from falling, and as Gonzaga took his seat heheard the fellow's voice, guttural, bottle-thickened and contentious. 

"And this wine, Luciano? Sangue della Madonna! Will you bring it beforedropping dead, pig?"

Gonzaga shuddered and would have crossed himself again for protectionagainst what seemed a very devil incarnate, but that the ruffian'sblood-shot eye was set upon him in a stony stare. 

"I come, cavaliere, I come, " cried the timid host, leaping to hisfeet, and leaving the goat to burn while he ministered to the giant'sunquenchable thirst. 

The title caused Gonzaga to start, and he bent his eyes again on theman's face. He found it villainous of expression, inflamed and blotched;the hair hung matted about a bullet head, and the eyes glared fiercelyfrom either side of a pendulous nose. Of the knightly rank by whichthe taverner addressed him the fellow bore no outward signs. Arms hecarried, it is true; a sword and dagger at his belt, whilst beside himon the table stood a rusty steel-cap. But these warlike tools servedonly to give him the appearance of a roving masnadiero or a cut-throatfor hire. Presently abandoning the comtemplation of Gonzaga he turned tohis companions, and across to the listener floated a coarse and boastingtale of a plunderous warfare in Sicily ten years agone. Gonzaga becameexcited. It seemed indeed as if this were man who might be useful tohim. He made pretence to sip the wine Luciano had brought him, andlistened avidly to that swashbuckling story, from which it appeared thatthis knave had once been better circumstanced and something of a leader. Intently he listened, and wondered whether such men as he boasted hehad led in that campaign were still to be found and could be broughttogether. 

At the end of perhaps a half-hour the two companions of that thirstygiant rose and took their leave of him. They cast a passing glance uponGonzaga, and were gone. 

A little while he hesitated. The ruffian seemed to have lapsed into areverie, or else he slept with open eyes. Calling up his courage thegallant rose at last and moved across the room. All unversed in tavernways was the magnificent Gonzaga, and he who at court, in ballroom orin antechamber, was a very mirror of all the graces of a courtier, feltawkward here and ill at ease. 

At length, summoning his wits to his aid:

"Good sir, " said he, with some timidity, "will you do me the honour toshare a flagon with me?"

The ruffian's eye, which but a moment back had looked vacuous andmelancholy, now quickened until it seemed ablaze. He raised hisbloodshot orbs and boldly encountered Gonzaga's uneasy glance. His lipsfell apart with an anticipatory smack, his back stiffened, and his headwas raised until his chin took on so haughty a tilt that Gonzaga fearedhis proffered hospitality was on the point of suffering a scornfulrejection. 

"Will I share a flagon?" gasped the fellow, as, being the sinner that hewas and knew himself to be, he might have gasped: "Will I go to Heaven?""Will I--will I----?" He paused, and pursed his lips. His eyebrows werepuckered and his expression grew mighty cunning as again he took stockof this pretty fellow who offered flagons of wine to down-at-heeladventurers like himself. He had all but asked what was to be requiredof him in exchange for this, when suddenly he bethought him--with theknavish philosophy adversity had taught him--that were he told for whatit was intended that the wine should bribe him, and did the businesssuit him not, he should, in the confession of it, lose the wine; whilstdid he but hold his peace until he had drunk, it would be his thereafterto please himself about the business when it came to be proposed. 

He composed his rugged features into the rude semblance of a smile. 

"Sweet young sir, " he murmured, "sweet, gentle and most illustriouslord, I would share a hogshead with such a nobleman as you. "

"I am to take it that you will drink?" quoth Gonzaga, who had scarceknown what to make of the man's last words. 

"Body of Bacchus! Yes. I'll drink with you gentile signorino, until yourpurse be empty or the world run dry. " And he leered a mixture of mockeryand satisfaction. 

Gonzaga, still half uncertain of his ground, called the tavernerand bade him bring a flagon of his best. While Luciano was about thefetching of the wine, constraint sat upon that oddly discordant pair. 

"It is a chill night, " commented Gonzaga presently, seating himselfopposite his swashbuckler. 

"Young sir, your wits have lost their edge. The night is warm. 

"I said, " spluttered Gonzaga, who was unused to contradiction from hisinferiors, and wished now to assert himself, "that the night is chill. "

"You lied, then, " returned the other, with a fresh leer, "for, as Ianswered you, the night is warm. Piaghe di Cristo! I am an ill man tocontradict, my pretty gallant, and if I say the night is warm, warm itshall be though there be snow on Mount Vesuvius. "

The courtier turned pink at that, and but for the arrival ofthe taverner with the wine, it is possible he might have done anunconscionable rashness. At sight of the red liquor the fury died out ofthe ruffler's face. 

"A long life, a long thirst, a long purse, and a short memory!" was histoast, into whose cryptic meaning Gonzaga made no attempt to pry. As thefellow set down his cup, and with his sleeve removed the moisture fromhis unshorn mouth, "May I not learn, " he inquired, "whose hospitality Ihave the honour of enjoying?"

"Heard you ever of Romeo Gonzaga?"

"Of Gonzaga, yes; though of Romeo Gonzaga never. Are you he?"

Gonzaga bowed his head. 

"A noble family yours, " returned the swashbuckler, in a tone thatimplied his own to be as good. "Let me name myself to you. I am ErcoleFortemani, " he said, with the proud air of one who announced himself anemperor. 

"A formidable name, " said Gonzaga, in accents of surprise, "and it bearsa noble sound. "

The great fellow turned on him in a sudden anger. 

"Why that astonishment?" he blazed. "I tell you my name is both nobleand formidable, and you shall find me as formidable as I am noble. Diavolo! Seems it incredible?"

"Said I so?" protested Gonzaga. 

"You had been dead by now if you had, Messer Gonzaga. But you thoughtso, and I may take leave to show you how bold a man it needs to think sowithout suffering. "

Ruffled as a turkey-cock, wounded in his pride and in his vanity, Ercolehastened to enlighten Gonzaga on his personality. 

"Learn, sir, " he announced, "that I am Captain Ercole Fortemani. I heldthat rank in the army of the Pope. I have served the Pisans and thenoble Baglioni of Perugia with honour and distinction. I have commandeda hundred lances of Gianinoni's famous free-company. I have fought withthe French against the Spaniards, and with the Spaniards against theFrench, and I have served the Borgia, who is plotting against both. Ihave trailed a pike in the emperor's following, and I have held the rankof captain, too, in the army of the King of Naples. Now, young sir, youhave learned something of me, and if my name is not written in lettersof fire from one end of Italy to the other, it is--Body of God!--becausethe hands that hired me to the work garnered the glory of my deeds. "

"A noble record, " said Gonzaga, who had credulously absorbed thatcatalogue of lies, "a very noble record. "

"Not so, " the other contradicted, for the lust of contradiction that wasa part of him. "A great record, if you will, to commend me to hirelingservice. But you may not call the service of a hireling noble. "

"It is a matter we will not quarrel over, " said Gonzaga soothingly. Theman's ferocity was terrific. 

"Who says that we shall not?" he demanded. "Who will baulk me if I havea mind to quarrel over it? Answer me!" and he half rose from his seat, moved by the anger into which he was lashing himself. "But patience!" hebroke off, subsiding on a sudden. "I take it, it was not out of regardfor my fine eyes, nor drawn by the elegance of my apparel"--and heraised a corner of his tattered cloak--"nor yet because you wish tothrow a main with me, that you have sought my acquaintance, and calledfor this wine. You require service of me?"

"You have guessed it. "

"A prodigious discernment, by the Host!" He seemed to incline rathertediously to irony. Then his face grew stern, and he lowered his voiceuntil it was no more than a growling whisper. "Heed me, Messer Gonzaga. If the service you require be the slitting of a gullet or some kindredfoul business, which my seeming neediness leads you to suppose meripe for, let me counsel you, as you value your own skin, to leave theservice unmentioned, and get you gone. "

In hasty, frantic, fearful protest were Gonzaga's hands outspread. 

"Sir, sir--I--I could not have thought it of you, " he spluttered, withwarmth, much of which was genuine, for it rejoiced him to see somescruples still shining in the foul heap of this man's rascallyexistence. A knave whose knavery knew no limits would hardly have suitedhis ends. "I do need a service, but it is no dark-corner work. It is aconsiderable enterprise, and one in which, I think, you should prove thevery man I need. "

"Let me know more, " quoth Ercole grandiloquently. 

"I need first your word that should the undertaking prove unsuited toyou, or beyond you, you will respect the matter, and keep it secret. "

"Body of Satan! No corpse was ever half so dumb as I shall be. "

"Excellent! Can you find me a score of stout fellows to form a bodyguardand a garrison, who, in return for good quarters--perchance for someweeks--and payment at four times the ordinary mercenaries' rate, willbe willing to take some risk, and chance even a brush with the Duke'sforces?"

Ercole blew out his mottled cheeks until Gonzaga feared that he wouldburst them. 

"It's outlawry!" he roared, when he had found his voice. "Outlawry, orI'm a fool. "

"Why, yes, " confessed Gonzaga. "It is outlaw matter of a kind. But therisk is slender. "

"Can you tell me no more?"

"I dare not. "

Ercole emptied his wine-cup at a draught and splashed the dregs onto the floor. Then, setting down the empty vessel, he sat steeped inthought awhile. Growing impatient:

"Well, " cried Gonzaga at last, "can you help me? Can you find the men?"

"If you were to tell me more of the nature of this service you require, I might find a hundred with ease. "

"As I have said--I need but a score. "

Ercole looked mighty grave, and thoughtfully rubbed his long nose. 

"It might be done, " said he, after a pause. "But we shall have to lookfor desperate knaves; men who are already under a ban, and to whom itwill matter little to have another item added to their indebtedness tothe law should they fall into its talons. How soon shall you requirethis forlorn company?"

"By to-morrow night. "

"I wonder----" mused Ercole. He was counting on his fingers, andappeared to have lapsed into mental calculations. "I could gethalf-a-score or a dozen within a couple of hours. But a score----" Againhe paused, and again he fell to thinking. At last, more briskly: "Let ushear what pay you offer me, to thrust myself thus blindfolded intothis business of yours as leader of the company you require?" he askedsuddenly. 

Gonzaga's face fell at that. Then he suddenly stiffened, and put on anexpression of haughtiness. 

"It is my intent to lead this company myself, " he loftily informed theruffler. 

"Body of God!" gasped Ercole, upon whose mind intruded a grotesquepicture of such a company as he would assemble, being led by thismincing carpet-knight. Then recollecting himself: "If that be so, " saidhe, "you had best, yourself, enrol it. Felicissima notte!" And he wavedhim a farewell across the table. 

Here was a poser for Gonzaga. How was he to go about such a business asthat? It was beyond his powers. Thus much he protested frankly. 

"Now attend to me, young sir, " was the other's answer. "The matterstands thus: If I can repair to certain friends of mine with theinformation that an affair is afoot, the particulars of which I may notgive them, but in which I am to lead them myself, sharing such risk asthere may be, I do not doubt but that by this time to-morrow I can havea score of them enrolled--such is their confidence in Ercole Fortemani. But if I take them to enter a service unknown, under a leader equallyunknown, the forming of such a company would be a mighty tediousmatter. "

This was an argument to the force of which Gonzaga could not remaininsensible. After a moment's consideration, he offered Ercole fifty goldflorins in earnest of good faith and the promise of pay, thereafter, atthe rate of twenty gold florins a month for as long as he should needhis services and Ercole, who in all his free-lancing days had neverearned the tenth of such a sum, was ready to fall upon this most noblegentleman's neck, and weep for very joy and brotherly affection. 

The matter being settled, Gonzaga produced a heavy bag which gave fortha jangle mighty pleasant to the ears of Fortemani, and let it drop witha chink upon the table. 

"There are a hundred florins for the equipment of this company. I do notwish to have a regiment of out-at-elbow tatterdemalions at my heels. "And his eye swept in an uncomplimentary manner over Ercole's apparel. "See that you dress them fittingly. "

"It shall be done, Magnificent, " answered Ercole, with a show of suchrespect as he had not hitherto manifested. "And arms?"

"Give them pikes and arquebuses, if you will; but nothing more. Theplace we are bound for is well stocked with armour--but even that maynot be required. "

"May not be required?" echoed the more and more astonished swashbuckler. Were they to be paid on so lordly a scale, clothed and fed, to inducethem upon a business that might carry no fighting with it? Surely hehad never sold himself into a more likely or promising service, and thatnight he dreamt in his sleep that he was become a gentleman's steward, and that at his heels marched an endless company of lacqueys inflamboyant liveries. On the morrow he awoke to the persuasion that atlast, of a truth, was his fortune made, and that hereafter there wouldbe no more pike-trailing for his war-worn old arms. 

Conscientiously he set about enrolling the company, for, in his way, this Ercole Fortemani was a conscientious man--boisterous and unrulyif you will; a rogue, in his way, with scant respect for property; notabove cogging dice or even filching a purse upon occasion when harddriven by necessity--for all that he was gently born and had heldhonourable employment; a drunkard by long habit, and a swaggeringbrawler upon the merest provocation. But for all that, riotous anddishonest though he might be in the general commerce of life, yet to thehand that hired him he strove--not always successfully, perhaps, but, atleast, always earnestly--to be loyal. 

CHAPTER IX. THE "TRATTA DI CORDE"

Whilst the bustle of preparation went on briskly in Urbino, Gian Maria, on his side, was rapidly disposing of affairs in Babbiano, that he mightreturn to the nuptials for which he was impatient. But he had chancedupon a deeper tangle than he had reckoned with, and more to do than hehad looked for. 

On the day of his departure from Urbino, he had ridden as far as Cagli, and halted at the house of the noble Messer Valdicampo. This had beenplaced at his disposal, and there he proposed to lie the night. Theyhad supped--the Duke, de' Alvari, Gismondo Santi, Messér Valdicampo, hiswife and two daughters, and a couple of friends, potential citizens ofCagli, whom he had invited, that they might witness the honour that wasbeing done his house. It waxed late, and the torpor that ensues upon thegenerous gratification of appetite was settling upon the company whenArmstadt--Gian Maria's Swiss captain--entered and approached his masterwith the air of a man who is the bearer of news. He halted a pace or twofrom the Duke's high-backed chair, and stood eyeing Gian Maria in stupidpatience. 

"Well, fool?" growled the Duke, turning his head. 

The Swiss approached another step. "They have brought him, Highness, " hesaid in a confidential whisper. 

"Am I a wizard that I must read your thoughts?" hectored Gian Maria. "Who has brought whom?"

Armstadt eyed the company in hesitation. Then, stepping close to theDuke, he murmured in his ear:

"The men I left behind have brought the fool--Ser Peppe. "

A sudden brightening of the eye showed that Gian Maria understood. Without apology to the board, he turned and whispered back to hiscaptain to have the fellow taken to his chamber, there to await him. "Let a couple of your knaves be in attendance, and do you come too, Martino. "

Martin bowed, and withdrew, whereupon Gian Maria found grace to cravehis host's pardon, with the explanation that the man had brought himnews he had been expecting. Valdicampo, who for the honour of having aDuke sleep beneath his roof would have stomached improprieties far moreflagrant, belittled the matter and dismissed it. And presently GianMaria rose with the announcement that he had far to journey on themorrow, and so, with his host's good leave, would be abed. 

Valdicampo, himself, then played the part of chamberlain, and taking upone of the large candle branches, he lighted the Duke to his apartments. He would have carried his good offices, and his candles, as far as GianMaria's very bed-chamber, but that in the ante-room his Highness, aspolitely as might be, bade him set down the lights and leave him. 

The Duke remained standing for a moment, deliberating whether to affordknowledge to Alvari and Santi--who had followed him and stood awaitinghis commands--of what he was about to do. In the end he decided that hewould act alone and upon his sole discretion. So he dismissed them. 

When they had gone and he was quite alone, he clapped his handstogether, and in answer to that summons the door of his bedroom opened, revealing Martin Armstadt on the threshold. 

"He is there?" inquired the Duke. 

"Awaiting your Highness, " answered the Swiss, and he held the door forGian Maria to enter. 

The bedchamber apportioned the Duke in the Palazzo Valdicampo was anoble and lofty room, in the midst of which loomed the great carved bedof honour, with its upright pillars and funereal canopy. 

On the overmantel stood two five-armed sconces with lighted tapers. YetGian Maria did not seem to deem that there was light enough for suchpurpose as he entertained, for he bade Martin fetch him the candelabrathat had been left behind. Then he turned his attention to the groupstanding by the window, where the light from the overmantel fell fullupon it. 

This consisted of three men, two being mercenaries of Armstadt's guard, in corselet and morion, and the third, who stood captive between, theunfortunate Ser Peppe. The fool's face was paler than its wont, whilstthe usual roguery had passed from his eyes and his mouth, fear havingtaken possession of its room. He met the Duke's cruel glance with one ofalarm and piteous entreaty. 

Having assured himself that Peppe had no weapons, and that his arms werepinioned behind him, Gian Maria bade the two guards withdraw, but holdthemselves in readiness in the ante-chamber with Armstadt. Then heturned to Peppe with a scowl on his low brow. 

"You are not so merry as you were this morning, fool, " he scoffed. 

Peppino squirmed a little, but his nature, schooled by the long habit ofjest, prompted a bold whimsicality in his reply. 

"The circumstances are scarcely as propitious--to me. Your Highness, though, seems in excellent good­humour. "

Gian Maria looked at him angrily a moment. He was a slow-witted man, andhe could devise no ready answer, no such cutting gibe as it would havepleasured him to administer. He walked leisurely to the fire-place, andleant his elbow on the overmantel. 

"Your humour led you into saying some things for which I should bemerciful if I had you whipped. "

"And, by the same reasoning, charitable if you had me hanged, " returnedthe fool dryly, a pale smile on his lips. 

"Ah! You acknowledge it?" cried Gian Maria, never seeing the ironyintended. "But I am a very clement prince, fool. "

"Proverbially clement, " the jester protested, but he did not succeedthis time in excluding the sarcasm from his voice. 

Gian Maria shot him a furious glance. 

"Are you mocking me, animal? Keep your venomous tongue in bounds, orI'll have you deprived of it. "

Peppe's face turned grey at the threat, as well it might--for whatshould such a one as he do in the world without a tongue?

Seeing him dumb and stricken, the Duke continued:

"Now, for all that you deserve a hanging for your insolence, I amwilling that you should come by no hurt so that you answer truthfullysuch questions as I have for you. "

Peppino's grotesque figure was doubled in a bow. 

"I await your questions, glorious lord, " he answered. 

"You spoke----" the Duke hesitated a moment, writhing inwardly at thememory of the exact words in which the fool had spoken. "You spoke thismorning of one whom the Lady Valentina had met. "

The fear seemed to increase on the jester's face. "Yes, " he answered, ina choking voice. 

"Where did she meet this knight you spoke of, and in such wondrous wordsof praise described to me?"

"In the woods at Acquasparta, where the river Metauro is no better thana brook. Some two leagues this side of Sant' Angelo. "

"Sant' Angelo!" echoed Gian Maria, starting at the very mention of theplace where the late conspiracy against him had been hatched. "And whenwas this?"

"On the Wednesday before Easter, as Monna Valentina was journeying fromSanta Sofia to Urbino. "

No word spake the Duke in answer. He stood still, his head bowed, andhis thoughts running again on that conspiracy. The mountain fight inwhich Masuccio had been killed had taken place on the Tuesday night, andthe conviction--scant though the evidence might be--grew upon him thatthis man was one of the conspirators who had escaped. 

"How came your lady to speak with this man--was he known to her?" heinquired at last. 

"No, Highness; but he was wounded, and so aroused her compassion. Shesought to minister to his hurt. "

"Wounded?" cried Gian Maria, in a shout. "Now, by God, it is as Isuspected. I'll swear he got that wound the night before at Sant'Angelo. What was his name, fool? Tell me that, and you shall go free. "

For just a second the hunchback seemed to hesitate. He stood in awesomefear of Gian Maria, of whose cruelties some ghastly tales were told. Butin greater fear he stood of the eternal damnation he might earn did hebreak the oath he had plighted not to divulge that knight's identity. 

"Alas!" he sighed, "I would it might be mine to earn my freedom at solight a price; yet it is one that ignorance will not let me pay. I donot know his name. "

The Duke looked at him searchingly and suspiciously. 

Dull though he was by nature, eagerness seemed now to have set a cunningedge upon his wits, and suspicion had led him to observe the fool'smomentary hesitation. 

"Of what appearance was he? Describe him to me. How was he dressed? Whatwas the manner of his face?"

"Again, Lord Duke, I cannot answer you. I had but the most fleetingglimpse of him. "

The Duke's sallow countenance grew very evil-looking, and an ugly smiletwisted his lip and laid bare his strong white teeth. 

"So fleeting that no memory of him is left you?" quoth he. 

"Precisely, Highness. "

"You lie, you filth, " Gian Maria thundered in a towering rage. "It wasbut this morning that you said his height was splendid, his countenancenoble, his manner princely, his speech courtly, and--I know not whatbesides. Yet now you tell me--you tell me--that your glimpse of him wasso fleeting that you cannot describe him. You know his name, rogue, andI will have it from you, or else----"

"Indeed, indeed, most noble lord, be not incensed----" the fool began, in fearful protestation. But the Duke interrupted him. 

"Incensed?" he echoed, his eyes dilating in a sort of horror at thenotion. "Do you dare impute to me the mortal sin of choler? I amnot incensed; there is no anger in me. " He crossed himself, as if toexorcise the evil mood if it indeed existed, and devotedly bowing hishead and folding his hands--"Libera me a malo, Domine!" he murmuredaudibly. Then, with a greater fierceness than before--"Now, " hedemanded, "will you tell me his name?"

"I would I could, " the terrified hunchback began. But at that the Duketurned from him with a shrug of angry impatience, and clapping his handstogether:

"Olį! Martino!" he called. Instantly the door opened, and the Swissappeared. "Bring in your men and your rope. "

The captain turned on his heel, and simultaneously the fool cast himselfat Gian Maria's feet. 

"Mercy, your Highness!" he wailed. "Do not have me hanged. I am----"

"We are not going to hang you, " the Duke broke in coldly. "Dead youwould indeed be dumb, and avail us nothing. We want you alive, MesserPeppino--alive and talkative; we find you very reserved for a fool. Butwe hope to make you speak. "

On his knees, Peppe raised his wild eyes to Heaven. 

"Mother of the Afflicted, " he prayed, at which the Duke broke into acontemptuous laugh. 

"What has the Heavenly Mother to do with such filth as you? Make yourappeals to me. I am the more immediate arbiter of your fate. Tell methe name of that man you met in the woods, and all may yet be well withyou. "

Peppino knelt in silence, a cold sweat gathering on his pale brow, and ahorrid fear tightening at his heart and throat. 

And yet greater than this horror they were preparing for him was thehorror of losing his immortal soul by a breach of the solemn oath hehad sworn. Gian Maria turned from him, at last, to his bravi, who nowentered silently and with the air of men who knew the work expectedof them. Martino mounted the bed, and swung for an instant from theframework of the canopy. 

"It will hold, Highness, " he announced. 

Gian Maria bade him, since that was so, remove the velvet hangings, whilst he despatched one of the men to see that the ante-chamber doorwas closed, so that no cry should penetrate to the apartments of theValdicampo household. 

In a few seconds all was ready, and Peppino was rudely lifted from hisknees and from the prayers he had been pattering to the Virgin to lendhim strength in this hour of need. 

"For the last time, sir fool, " quoth the Duke, "will you tell us hisname?"

"Highness, I cannot, " answered Peppe, for all that terror was freezinghis very blood. 

A light of satisfaction gleamed now in Gian Maria's eyes. 

"So you know it!" he exclaimed. "You no longer protest your ignorance, but only that you cannot tell me. Up with him, Martino. "

In a last pitiable struggle against the inevitable, the fool broke fromhis guards, and flung himself towards the door. One of the burly Swisscaught him by the neck in a grip that made him cry out with pain. GianMaria eyed him with a sinister smile, and Martin proceeded to fasten oneend of the rope to his pinioned wrists. Then they led him, shiveringto the great bed. The other end of the cord was passed over one ofthe bared arms of the canopy-frame. This end was grasped by the twomen-at-arms. Martin stood beside the prisoner. The Duke flung himselfinto a great carved chair, an air of relish now investing his round, pale face. 

"You know what is about to befall you, " he said, in tones of chillingindifference. "Will you speak before we begin?"

"My lord, " said the fool, in a voice that terror was throttling, "youare a good Christian, a loyal son of Mother Church, and a believer inthe eternal fires of hell?"

A frown settled on Gian Maria's brow. Was the fool about to intimidatehim with talk of supernatural vengeance?

"Thus, " Peppe continued, "you will perhaps be merciful when I confessmy position. I made most solemn oath to the man I met at Acquasparta onthat luckless day, that I would never reveal his identity. What am I todo? If I keep my oath, you will torture me to death perhaps. If I breakit, I shall be damned eternally. Have mercy, noble lord, since now youknow how I am placed. "

The smile broadened on Gian Maria's face, and the cruelty of his mouthand eyes seemed intensified by it. The fool had told him that which hewould have given much to learn. He had told him that this man whosename he sought, had so feared that his presence that day at Acquaspartashould become known, that he had bound the fool by oath not to divulgethe secret of it. Of what he had before suspected he was now assured. The man in question was one of the conspirators; probably the verychief of them. Nothing short of the fool's death under torture would nowrestrain him from learning the name of that unknown who had done himthe double injury of conspiring against him, and--if the fool were to bebelieved--of capturing the heart of Valentina. 

"For the damnation of your soul I shall not be called to answer, " hesaid at last. "Care enough have I to save my own--for temptations aremany and this poor flesh is weak. But it is this man's name I need, and--by the five wounds of Lucia of Viterbo!--I will have it. Will youspeak?"

Something like a sob shook the poor fool's deformed frame. But that wasall. With bowed head he preserved a stubborn silence. The Duke made asign to the men, and instantly the two of them threw their weight uponthe rope, hoisting Peppe by his wrists until he was at the height of thecanopy itself. That done, they paused, and turned their eyes upon theDuke for further orders. Again Gian Maria called upon the fool to answerhis questions; but Peppe, a writhing, misshapen mass from which twowriggling legs depended, maintained a stubborn silence. 

"Let him go, " snarled Gian Maria, out of patience. The men released therope, and allowed some three feet of it to run through their hands. Then they grasped it again, so that Peppe's sudden fall was as suddenlyarrested by a jerk that almost wrenched his arms from their sockets. Ashriek broke from him at that exquisite torture, and he was dragged oncemore to the full height of the canopy. 

"Will you speak now?" asked Gian Maria coldly, amusedly almost. Butstill the fool was silent, his nether lip caught so tightly in his teeththat the blood trickled from it adown his chin. Again the Duke gave thesignal, and again they let him go. This time they allowed him a longerdrop, so that the wrench with which they arrested it was more severethan had been the first. 

Peppe felt his bones starting from their joints, and it was as if aburning iron were searing him at shoulder, elbow and wrist. 

"Merciful God!" he screamed. "Oh, have pity, noble lord. "

But the noble lord had him hoisted anew to the canopy. Writhing therein the extremity of his anguish, the poor hunchback poured forth fromfrothing lips a stream of curses and imprecations, invoking Heaven andhell to strike his tormentors dead. 

But the Duke, from whose demeanour it might be inferred that he wasinured to the effect produced by this form of torture, looked on witha cruel smile, as of one who watches the progress of events towards theend that he desires and has planned. He was less patient, and his signalcame more quickly now. For a third time the fool was dropped, and drawnup, now, a short three feet from the ground. 

This time he did not so much as scream. He hung there, dangling at therope's end, his mouth all bloody, his face ghastly in its glisteningpallor, and of his eyes naught showing save the whites. He hung there, and moaned piteously and incessantly. Martin glanced questioningly atGian Maria, and his eyes very plainly inquired whether they had notbetter cease. But Gian Maria paid no heed to him. 

"Will that suffice you?" he asked the fool. "Will you speak now?"

But the fool's only answer was a moan, whereupon again, at the Duke'srelentless signal, he was swung aloft. But at the terror of a fourthdrop, more fearful than any of its three predecessors, he awoke verysuddenly to the impossible horror of his position. That this agony wouldendure until he died or fainted, he was assured. And since he seemedincapable of either fainting or dying, suffer more he could not. Whatwas heaven or hell to him then that the thought of either could effacethe horror of this torture and strengthen him to continue to endure theagony of it? He could endure no more--no, not to save a dozen souls ifhe had had them:

"I'll speak, " he screamed. "Let me down, and you shall have his name, Lord Duke. "

"Pronounce it first, or the manner of your descent shall be as theothers. "

Peppe passed his tongue over his bleeding lips, hung still and spoke. 

"It was your cousin, " he panted, "Francesco del Falco, Count of Aquila. "

The Duke stared at him a moment, with startled countenance and mouthagape. 

"You are telling me the truth, animal?" he demanded, in a quiveringvoice. "It was the Count of Aquila who was wounded and whom MonnaValentina tended?"

"I swear it, " answered the fool. "Now, in the name of God and Hisblessed saints, let me down. "

For a moment yet he was held there, awaiting Gian Maria's signal. TheDuke continued to eye him with that same astonished look, what time heturned over in his mind the news he had gathered. Then conviction of thetruth sank into his mind. It was the Lord of Aquila who was the idolof the Babbianians. What, then, more natural than that the conspiratorsshould have sought to place him on the throne they proposed to wrestfrom Gian Maria? He dubbed himself a fool that he had not guessed somuch before. 

"Let him down, " he curtly bade his men. "Then take him hence, and lethim go with God. He has served his purpose. "

Gently they lowered him, but when his feet touched the ground he wasunable to stand. His legs doubled under him, and he lay--a littlecrook-backed heap--upon the rushes of the floor. His senses had desertedhim. 

At a sign from Armstadt the two men picked him up and carried him outbetween them. 

Gian Maria moved across the room to a tapestried prie­dieu, and kneltdown before an ivory crucifix to render thanks to God for the signallight of grace, by which He had vouchsafed to show the Duke his enemy. 

Thereafter, drawing from the breast of his doublet a chaplet of gold andamber beads, he piously discharged his nightly devotions. 

CHAPTER X. THE BRAYING OF AN ASS

When on the morrow, towards the twenty-second hour, the High and MightyGian Maria Sforza rode into his capital at Babbiano, he found the cityin violent turmoil, occasioned, as he rightly guessed, by the ominouspresence of Caesar Borgia's envoy. 

A dense and sullen crowd met him at the Porta Romana, and preserved aprofound silence as he rode into the city, accompanied by Alvari andSanti, and surrounded by his escort of twenty spears in full armour. There was a threat in that silence more ominous than any vociferations, and very white was the Duke's face as he darted scowls of impotent angerthis way and that. But there was worse to come. As they rode up theBorgo dell' Annunziata the crowd thickened, and the silence was nowreplaced by a storm of hooting and angry cries. The people becamemenacing, and by Armstadt's orders--the Duke was by now too paralysedwith fear to issue any--the men-at-arms lowered their pikes in order toopen a way, whilst one or two of the populace, who were thrust too nearthe cavalcade by the surging human tide, went down and were trampledunder foot. 

Satirical voices asked the Duke derisively was he wed, and where mightbe his uncle-in-law's spears that were to protect them against theBorgia. Some demanded to know whither the last outrageous levy of taxeswas gone, and where was the army it should have served to raise. Tothis, others replied for the Duke, suggesting a score of vile uses towhich the money had been put. 

Then, of a sudden, a cry of "Murderer!" arose, followed by angry demandsthat he should restore life to the valiant Ferrabraccio, to Amerini, thepeople's friend, and to those others whom he had lately butchered, orelse follow them in death. Lastly the name of the Count of Aquila rangwildly in his ears, provoking a storm of "Evviva! Live Francesco delFalco!" and one persistent voice, sounding loudly above the others, styled him already "il Duca Francesco. " At that the blood mounted toGian Maria's brain, and a wave of anger beat back the fear from hisheart. He rose in his stirrups, his eyes ablaze with the jealous wraththat possessed him. 

"Ser Martino!" he roared hoarsely to his captain. "Couch lances and gothrough them at the gallop!"

The burly Swiss hesitated, brave man though he was. Alvaro de' Alvariand Gismondo Santi looked at each other in alarm, and the intrepidold statesman, in whose heart no pang of fear had been awakened by therabble's threatening bay, changed colour as he heard that order given. 

"Highness, " he implored the Duke, "You cannot mean this. "

"Not mean it?" flashed back Gian Maria, his eye travelling from Santi tothe hesitating captain. "Fool!" he blazed at the latter. "Brute beast, for what do you wait? Did you not hear me?"

Without a second's delay the captain now raised his sword, and his deep, guttural voice barked an order to his men which brought their lancesbelow the horizontal. The mob, too, had heard that fierce command, andawakening to their peril, those nearest the cavalcade would have fallenback but that the others, pressing tightly from behind, held them in thedeath-tide that now swept by with clattering arms and hoarse cries. 

Shrieks filled the air where lately threats had been loudly tossed. Butsome there were in that crowd that would be no passive witnesses of thisbutchery. Half the stones of the borgo went after that cavalcade, andfell in a persistent shower upon them, rattling like giant hail upontheir armour, dinting many a steel-cap to its wearer's sore discomfort. The Duke himself was struck twice, and on Santi's unprotected scalp anugly wound was opened from which the blood flowed in profusion to dyehis snowy locks. 

In this undignified manner they reached, at last, the Palazzo Ducale, leaving a trail of dead and maimed to mark the way by which they hadcome. 

In a white heat of passion Gian Maria sought his apartments, and camenot forth again until, some two hours later, the presence was announcedhim of the emissary from Caesar Borgia, Duke of Valentinois, who soughtan audience. 

Still beside himself, and boiling with wrath at the indignities hehad received, Gian Maria--in no mood for an interview that wouldhave demanded coolness and presence of mind from a keener brain thanhis--received the envoy, a gloomy, priestly-faced Spaniard, in thethrone-room of the Palace. The Duke was attended by Alvari, Santi, andFabrizio da Lodi, whilst his mother, Caterina Colonna, occupied a chairof crimson velvet on which the Sforza lion was wrought in gold. 

The interview was brief, and marked by a rudeness at its close thatcontrasted sharply with the ceremoniousness of its inception. It soonbecame clear that the ambassador's true mission was to pick a quarrelwith Babbiano on his master's behalf, to the end that the Borgia mightbe afforded a sound pretext for invading the Duchy. He demanded, at first politely and calmly, and later--when denied--with arrogantinsistance, that Gian Maria should provide the Duke of Valentinois witha hundred lances--equivalent to five hundred men--as some contributionon his part towards the stand which Caesar Borgia meant to make againstthe impending French invasion. 

Gian Maria never heeded the restraining words which Lodi whispered inhis ear, urging him to temporise, and to put off this messenger untilthe alliance with the house of Urbino should be complete and theirposition strengthened sufficiently to permit them to brave the anger ofCaesar Borgia. But neither this nor the wrathful, meaning glances whichhis cunning mother bent upon him served to curb him. He obeyed only thevoice of his headstrong mood, never dreaming of the consequences withwhich he might be visited. 

"You will bear to the Duca Valentino this message from me, " he said, in conclusion. "You will tell him that what lances I have in Babbiano Iintend to keep, that with them I may defend my own frontiers against hisbriganding advances. Messer da Lodi, " he added, turning to Fabrizio andwithout so much as waiting to see if the envoy had anything further tosay, "let this gentleman be reconducted to his quarters, and see that hehas safe conduct hence until he is out of our Duchy. "

When the envoy, crimson of face and threatening of eye, had withdrawnunder Lodi's escort, Monna Caterina rose, the very incarnation ofoutraged patience, and poured her bitter invective upon her rash son'shead. 

"Fool!" she stormed at him. "There goes your Duchy--in the hollow ofthat man's hand. " Then she laughed in bitterness. "After all, in castingit from you, perhaps you have chosen the wiser course, for, as truly asthere is a God in Heaven, you are utterly unfitted to retain it. "

"My lady mother, " he answered her, with such dignity as he could musterfrom the wretched heap in which his wits now seemed to lie, "you willbe well advised to devote yourself to your woman's tasks, and not tointerfere in a man's work. "

"Man's work!" she sneered. "And you perform it like a petulant boy or apeevish woman. "

"I perform it, Madonna, as best seems to me, for it happens that I amDuke of Babbiano, " he answered sullenly. "I do not fear any Pope's sonthat ever stepped. The alliance with Urbino is all but completed. Letthat be established, and if Valentino shows his teeth--by God we'll showours. "

"Aye, but with this difference, that his are a wolf's teeth, and yours alamb's. Besides, this alliance with Urbino is all incomplete as yet. Youhad been better advised to have sent away the envoy with some indefinitepromise that would have afforded you respite enough in which to sealmatters with the house of Montefeltro. As it is, your days are numbered. Upon that message you have sent him Caesar will act at once. For my ownpart, I have no mind to fall a prey to the invader, and I shall leaveBabbiano, and seek refuge in Naples. And if a last word of advice I mayoffer you, it is that you do the same. "

Gian Maria rose and came down from the dais, eyeing her in a sort ofdull amazement. Then he looked, as if for help, to Alvari, to Santi, and lastly to Lodi, who had returned while Caterina was speaking. But noword said any of them, and grave were the eyes of all. 

"Poor-spirited are you all!" he sneered. Then his face grew dark and histone concentrated. "Not so am I, " he assured them, "if in the past I mayhave seemed it sometimes. I am aroused at length, sirs. I heard a voicein the streets of Babbiano to-day, and I saw a sight that has put afire into my veins. This good-tempered, soft, indulgent Duke you knewis gone. The lion is awake at last, and you shall see such things as youhad not dreamt of. "

They regarded him now with eyes in which the gravity was increased by alight of fearsome wonder and inquiry. Was his mind giving way under theprodigious strain that had been set upon it that day? If not madness, what else did that wild boasting argue?

"Are you all dumb?" he asked them, his eyes feverish. "Or do you deemthat I promise more than is mine to fulfil. You shall judge, and soon. To-morrow, my lady mother, whilst you journey south, as you have toldus, I go north again, hack to Urbino. Not a day will I now waste. Withinthe week, sirs, by God's grace, I shall be wed. That will give us Urbinofor a buckler, and with Urbino comes Perugia and Camerino. But more thanthat. There is a princely dowry comes to us with the Lady Valentina. Howthink you will I spend it? To the last florin it shall go to the armingof men. I will hire me every free condotta in Italy. I will raise mesuch an army as has never before been seen at any one time, and withthis I shall seek out the Duca Valentino. I'll not sit here at homeawaiting the pleasure of his coming, but I'll out to meet him, and withthat army I shall descend upon him as a thunderbolt out of Heaven. Aye, my lady mother, " he laughed in his madness, "the lamb shall hunt thewolf, and rend it so that it shall never stand again to prey on otherlambs. This will I do, my friends, and there shall be such fighting ashas not been seen since the long-dead days of Castracani. "

They stared at him, scarce believing now that he was sane, andmarvelling deeply whence had sprung this sudden martial fervour in onewhose nature was more indolent than active, more timid than warlike. And yet the reason was not far to seek, had they but cared to follow theline of thought to which he, himself, had given them the clue when hereferred to the voice he had heard, and the sights he had seen in thestreets of Babbiano. The voice was the voice that had acclaimed hiscousin Francesco Duke. That it was through that a fierce jealousy hadfired him. This man had robbed him at once of the love of his peopleand of Valentina, and thereby had set in his heart the burning desireto outdo him and to prove wrong in their preference both his people andValentina. He was like a gamer who risks all on a single throw, and hisstake was to be the dowry of his bride, the game a tilt with the forcesof the Borgia. If he won he came out covered with glory, and not onlythe saviour of his people and the champion of their liberty, but aglorious figure that all Italy--or, at least, that part of it thathad known the iron heel of Valentino--should revere. Thus would heset himself right, and thus crush from their minds the memory of hisrebellious cousin with whom he was about to deal. 

His mother turned to him now, and her words were words of caution, prayers that he should adventure on naught so vast and appalling to herwoman's mind, without due thought and argument in council. A servantentered at that moment, and approached the Duke. 

"Madonna, " Gian Maria announced, breaking in upon her earnest words, "I am fully resolved upon my course. If you will but delay a moment andresume your seat, you shall witness the first scene of this greatdrama that I am preparing. " Then turning to the waiting servant: "Yourmessage?" he demanded. 

"Captain Armstadt has returned, Highness, and has brought hisExcellency. "

"Fetch lights and then admit them, " he commanded briefly. "To yourplaces, sirs, and you, my mother. I am about to sit in judgment. "

Amazed and uncomprehending, they obeyed his wild gestures, and resumedtheir places by the throne even as he walked back to the dais and sathimself upon the ducal chair. Servants entered, bearing great candelabraof beaten gold which they set on table and overmantel. They withdrew, and when the doors opened again, a clank of mail, reaching them fromwithout, increased the astonishment of the company. 

This rose yet higher, and left them cold and speechless, when into thechamber stepped the Count of Aquila with a man-at-arms on either sideof him, marking him a prisoner. With a swift, comprehensive glance thattook in the entire group about the throne--and without manifesting theslightest surprise at Lodi's presence--Francesco stood still and awaitedhis cousin's words. 

He was elegantly dressed, but without lavishness, and if he had the airof a great lord, it was rather derived from the distinction of his faceand carriage. He was without arms, and bareheaded save for the gold coifhe always wore, which seemed to accentuate the lustrous blackness ofhis hair. His face was impassive, and the glance as that of a man ratherweary of the entertainment provided him. 

There was an oppressive silence of some moments, during which his cousinregarded him with an eye that glittered oddly. At last Gian Maria brokeinto speech, his voice shrill with excitement. 

"Know you of any reason, " he demanded, "why your head should not beflaunted on a spear among those others on the Gate of San Bacolo?"

Francesco's eyebrows shot up in justifiable astonishment. 

"I know of many, " he answered, with a smile, an answer which by itssimplicity seemed to nonplus the Duke. 

"Let us hear some of them, " he challenged presently. 

"Nay, let us hear, rather, some reason why my poor head should be soharshly dealt with. When a man is rudely taken, as I have been, it isa custom, which perhaps your Highness will follow, to afford him somereason for the outrage. "

"You smooth-tongued traitor, " quoth the Duke, with infinite malice, madeangrier by his cousin's dignity. "You choicely-spoken villain! You wouldlearn why you have been taken? Tell me, sir, what did you at Acquaspartaon the morning of the Wednesday before Easter?"

The Count's impassive face remained inscrutable, a mask of patientwonder. By the sudden clenching of his hands alone did he betray howthat thrust had smitten him, and his hands none there remarked. Fabrizioda Lodi, standing behind the Duke, went pale to the lips. 

"I do not recall that I did anything there of much account, " heanswered. "I breathed the good spring air in the woods. "

"And nothing else?" sneered Gian Maria. 

"I can bethink me of little else that signifies. I met a lady there withwhom I had some talk, a friar, a fool, a popinjay, and some soldiers. But, "--he shifted abruptly, his tone growing haughty--"whatever I did, I did as best seemed to me, and I have yet to learn that the Count ofAquila must give account of what he does and where he does it. Youhave not told me yet, sir, by what right, or fancied right, you hold meprisoner. "

"Have I not, indeed? See you no link between your offence and yourpresence near Sant' Angelo on that day?"

"If I am to apprehend that you have had me brought here with thisindignity to set me riddles for your amusement, I am enlightened and yetamazed. I am no court buffoon. "

"Words, words, " snapped the Duke. "Do not think to beguile me withthem. " With a short laugh he turned from Francesco to those upon thedais. "You will be marvelling, sirs, and you, my lady mother, upon whatgrounds I have had this traitor seized. You shall learn. On the night ofthe Tuesday before Easter seven traitors met at Sant' Angelo to plotmy overthrow. Of those, the heads of four may be seen on the wallsof Babbiano now; the other three made off, but there stands one ofthem--the one that was to have occupied this throne after they hadunseated me. "

The eyes of all were now upon the young Count, whilst his own glancestrayed to the face of Lodi, on which there was written a consternationso great that it must have betrayed him had the Duke but chanced to lookhis way. A pause ensued which none present dared to break. GianMaria seemed to await an answer from Francesco; but Francesco stoodimpassively regarding him, and made no sign that he would speak. Atlength, unable longer to endure the silence:

"E dunque?" cried the Duke. "Have you no answer?"

"I would submit, " returned Francesco, "that I have heard no question. I heard a wild statement, extravagant and mad, the accusation of onedemented, a charge of which no proofs can be forthcoming, else I takeit you had not withheld them. I ask you, sirs, and you, Madonna, " hecontinued, turning to the others, "has his Highness said anything towhich an answer can by any means be necessary?"

"Is it proofs you lack?" cried Gian Maria, but less confidently thanhitherto, and, so, less fiercely. A doubt had arisen in his mind born ofthis strange calm on the part of Francesco--a calm that to Gian Maria'sperceptions seemed hardly the garb of guilt, but belonged rather to onewho is assured that no peril threatens him. "Is it proofs you lack?"quoth the Duke again, and then with the air of a man launching anunanswerable question: "How came you by the wound you had that day inthe woods?"

A smile quivered on Francesco's face, and was gone. 

"I asked for proofs, not questions, " he protested wearily. "What shallit prove if I had a hundred wounds?"

"Prove?" echoed the Duke, less and less confident of his ground, fearingalready that he had perhaps gone too fast and too far upon the road ofhis suspicions. "It proves to me, when coupled with your presence there, that you were in the fight the night before. "

Francesco stirred at that. He sighed and smiled at once. Then assuming atone of brisk command:

"Bid these men begone, " he said, pointing to his guards. "Then hear mescatter your foul suspicions as the hurricane scatters the leaves inautumn. "

Gian Maria stared at him in stupefaction. That overwhelming assurance, that lofty, dignified bearing which made such a noble contrast withhis own coarse hectoring, were gradually undermining more and morehis confidence. With a wave of his hand he motioned the soldiers towithdraw, obeying almost unconsciously the master-mind of his cousin bywhich he was as unconsciously being swayed. 

"Now, Highness, " said Francesco, as soon as the men were gone, "beforeI refute the charge you make, let me clearly understand it. From theexpressions you have used I gather it to be this: A conspiracy was laida little time ago at Sant' Angelo which had for object to supplant youon the throne of Babbiano and set me in your place. You charge me withhaving had in that conspiracy a part--the part assigned to me. It is so, is it not?"

Gian Maria nodded. 

"You have put it very clearly, " he sneered. "If you can make out yourinnocence as clearly, I shall be satisfied that I have wronged you. "

"That this conspiracy took place we will accept as proven, although tothe people of Babbiano the proof may have seemed scant. A man, sincedead, had told your Highness that such a plot was being hatched. Hardly, perhaps, in itself, evidence enough to warrant setting the heads of fourvery valiant gentlemen on spears, but no doubt your Highness had otherproofs to which the rest of us had no access. "

Gian Maria shivered at the words. He recalled what Francesco had saidon the occasion of their last talk upon this very subject; he rememberedthe manner of his own reception that day in Babbiano. 

"We must be content that it is so, " calmly pursued Francesco. "Indeed, your Highness's action in the matter leaves no doubt. We will accept, then, that such a plot was laid, but that I had a part in it, that I wasthe man chosen to take your place--need I prove the idleness of such acharge?"

"You need, in truth. By God! you need, if you would save your head. "

The Count stood in an easy posture, his hands clasped behind his back, and smiled up at his cousin's pale face and scowling brow. 

"How mysterious are the ways of your justice, Cousin, " he murmured, withinfinite relish; "what a wondrous equity invests your methods! You haveme dragged here by force, and sitting there, you say to me: 'Prove thatyou have not conspired against me, or the headsman shall have you!' Bymy faith! Soloman was a foolish prattler when compared with you. "

Gian Maria smote the gilded arm of his chair a blow for which he was tofind his hand blackened on the morrow. 

"Prove it!" he screamed, like a child in a pet. "Prove it, prove it, prove it!"

"And have my words not already proven it?" quoth the Count, in a voiceof such mild wonder and gentle protest that it left Gian Maria gasping. 

Then the Duke made a hasty gesture of impatience. 

"Messer Alvari, " he said, in a voice of concentrated rage, "I think youhad best recall the guard. "

"Wait!" the Count compelled him, raising his hand. And now it wasseen that the easy insouciance was gone from his face: the smile hadvanished, and in its place there was a look of lofty and contemptuouswrath. "I will repeat my words. You have dragged me here before you byforce, and, sitting there on the throne of Babbiano, you say: 'Provethat you have not conspired against me if you would save your head. '"A second he paused, and noted the puzzled look with which all regardedhim. 

"Is this a parable?" sneered the uncomprehending Duke. 

"You have said it, " flashed back Francesco. "A parable it is. And if youconsider it, does it not afford you proof enough?" he asked, a note oftriumph in his voice. "Do not our relative positions irrefutably showthe baselessness of this your charge? Should I stand here and yousit there if what you allege against me were true?" He laughed almostsavagely, and his eyes flashed scornfully upon the Duke. "If moreplainly still you need it, Gian Maria, I tell you that had I plotted tooccupy your tottering throne, I should be on it now, not standing heredefending myself against a foolish charge. But can you doubt it? Did youlearn no lesson as you rode into Babbiano to-day? Did you not hear themacclaim me and groan at you. And yet, " he ended, with a lofty pity, "you tell me that I plotted. Why, if I desired your throne, my only needwould be to unfurl my banner in the streets of your capital, and withinthe hour Gian Maria would be Duke no more. Have I proved my innocence, Highness?" he ended quietly, sadly almost. "Are you convinced how littleis my need for plots?"

But the Duke had no answer for him. Speechless, and in a sort of dazedhorror, he sat and scowled before him at his cousin's handsome face, what time the others watched him furtively, in silence, trembling forthe young man who, here, in his grasp, had dared say such things to him. Presently he covered his face with his hands, and sat so, as onedeeply in thought, a little while. At last he withdrew them slowly andpresented a countenance that passion and chagrin had strangely ravagedin so little time. He turned to Santi, who stood nearest. 

"The guard, " he said hoarsely, with a wave of the hand, and Santi went, none daring to utter a word. They waited thus an odd group, all verygrave save one, and he the one that had most cause for gravity. Then thecaptain re-entered, followed by his two men, and Gian Maria waved a handtowards the prisoner. 

"Take him away, " he muttered harshly, his face ghastly, and passionshaking him like an aspen. "Take him away, and await my orders in theante-chamber. "

"If it is farewell, Cousin, " said Francesco, "may I hope that you willsend a priest to me? I have lived a faithful Christian. "

Gian Maria returned him no answer, but his baleful eye was upon Martino. Reading the significance of that glance, the captain touched Francescolightly on the arm. A moment the Count stood, looking from the Duke tothe soldiers; a second his glance rested on those assembled there; then, with a light raising of his shoulders, he turned on his heel, and withhis head high passed out of the ducal chamber. 

And silence continued after he was gone until Caterina Colonna broke itwith a laugh that grated on Gian Maria's now very tender nerves. 

"You promised bravely, " she mocked him, "to play the lion. But so far, we have only heard the braying of an ass. "

CHAPTER XI. WANDERING KNIGHTS

That taunt of his mother's stirred Gian Maria. He rose from his ducalchair and descended from the dais on which it stood, possessed by atempestuous mood that would not brook him to sit still. 

"The braying of an ass?" he muttered, facing Caterina. Then he laughedunpleasantly. "The jaw-bone of an ass did sore execution on oneoccasion, Madonna, and it may again. A little patience, and you shallsee. " Next, and with a brisker air, he addressed the four silentcourtiers, "You heard him, sirs, " he exclaimed, "How do you say that Ishall deal with such a traitor?" He waited some seconds for an answer, and it seemed to anger him that none came. "Have you, then, no counselfor me?" he demanded harshly. 

"I had not thought, " said Lodi hardily, "that this was a case in whichyour Highness needed counsel. You were drawn to conclude that the Lordof Aquila was a traitor, but from what we have all heard, your Highnessshould now see that he is not. "

"Should I so?" the Duke returned, standing still and fixing uponFabrizio an eye that was dull as a snake's. "Messer da Lodi, yourloyalty is a thing that has given signs of wavering of late. Now, ifby the grace of God and His blessed saints I have ruled as a mercifulprince who errs too much upon the side of clemency, I would enjoin younot to try that clemency too far. I am but a man, after all. "

He turned from the fearless front presented by the old statesman, toface the troubled glances of the others. 

"Your silence, sirs, tells me that in this matter your judgement runsparallel with mine. And you are wise, for in such a case there can bebut one course. My cousin has uttered words to-day which no man has eversaid to a prince and lived. Nor shall we make exception to that rule. MyLord of Aquila's head must pay the price of his temerity. "

"My son, " cried Caterina, in a voice of horror. Gian Maria faced her ina passion, his countenance grown mottled. 

"I have said it, " he growled. "I will not sleep until he dies. "

"Yet never may you wake again, " she answered. And with that preambleshe launched upon his head the bitterest criticism he had ever heard. Bystinging epithets and contemptuous words, she sought to make him see thefolly of what he meditated. Was he indeed tired of ruling Babbiano?If that were so, she told him, he had but to wait for Caesar Borgia'scoming. He need not precipitate matters by a deed that must lead to arevolt, a rising of the people to avenge their idol. 

"You have given me but added reasons, " he answered her stoutly. "Thereis no room in my Duchy for a man whose death, if it pleased me toencompass it, would be avenged upon me by my own people. "

"Then send him from your dominions, " she urged. "Banish him, and all maybe well. But if you slay him, I should not count your life worth a day'spurchase. "

This advice was sound, and in the end they prevailed upon him to adoptit. But it was not done save at the cost of endless prayers on the partof those courtiers, and the persuasions of Caterina's biting scorn andprophecies of the fate that surely awaited him did he touch the life ofone so well­beloved. At last, against his will, he sullenly consentedthat the banishment of his cousin should content him. But it was withinfinite bitterness and regret that he passed his word, for his jealousywas of a quality that nothing short of Francesco's death could haveappeased. Certain it is that nothing but the fear of the consequences, which his mother had instilled into his heart, could have swayed him tobe satisfied that the Count of Aquila should be banished. 

He sent for Martino and bade him return the Count his sword, and heentrusted the message of exile to Fabrizio da Lodi, charging him toapprise Francesco that he was allowed twenty-four hours' grace in whichto take himself beyond the dominions of Gian Maria Sforza. 

That done--and with an exceedingly ill grace--the Duke turned on hisheel, and with a sullen brow he left the ducal chamber, and passed, unattended, to his own apartments. 

Rejoicing, Fabrizio da Lodi went his errand, which he discharged withcertain additions that might have cost him his head had knowledge ofthem come to Gian Maria. In fact, he seized the opportunity to againpress upon Francesco the throne of Babbiano. 

"The hour is very ripe, " he urged the Count, "and the people love youas surely prince was never loved. It is in their interests that I plead. You are their only hope. Will you not come to them?"

If for a moment Francesco hesitated, it was rather in consideration ofthe manner in which the crown was offered than in consequence of anyallurement that the offer may have had for him. Once--that night atSant' Angelo--he had known temptation, and for a moment had listened tothe seductions in the voice that invited him to power. But not so now. A thought he gave to the people who had such faith in him, and showeredupon him such admiring love, and whom, as a matter of reciprocity, hewished well, and would have served in any capacity but this. He shookhis head, and with a smile of regret declined the offer. 

"Have patience, old friend, " he added. "I am not of the stuff that goesto make good princes, although you think it. It is a bondage into whichI would not sell myself. A man's life for me, Fabrizio--a free life thatis not directed by councillors and at the mercy of the rabble. "

Fabrizio's face grew sad. He sighed profoundly, yet since it might notbe well for him that he should remain over-long in talk with one who, in the Duke's eyes, was attainted with treason, he had not leisure toinsist with persuasions, which, after all, he clearly saw must in theend prove barren. 

"What was the salvation of the people of Babbiano, " he murmured, "wasalso your Excellency's, since did you adopt the course I urge therewould be no need to go in banishment. "

"Why, this exile suits me excellently well, " returned Francesco. "Idlehave I been over-long, and the wish to roam is in my veins again. I'llsee the world once more, and when I weary of my vagrancy I can withdrawto my lands of Aquila, and in that corner of Tuscany, too mean to drawa conqueror's eye, none will molest me, and I shall rest. Babbiano, myfriend, shall know me no more after to-night. When I am gone, and thepeople realise that they may not have what they would, they mayrest content perhaps with what they may. " And he waved a hand in thedirection of the doors leading to the ducal chamber. With that he tookhis leave of his old friend, and, carrying in his hand the sword anddagger which Captain Armstadt had returned to him, he repaired brisklyto the northern wing of the Palace, in which he had his lodging. 

In the ante-room he dismissed those of his servants who had been takenfrom the ranks of the Duke's people, and bade his own Tuscan followers, Zaccaria and Lanciotto, see to the packing of his effects, and make allready to set out within the hour. 

He was no coward, but he had no wish to die just yet if it might behonourably avoided. Life had some sweets to offer Francesco delFalco, and this spurred him to hasten, for he well knew his cousin'sunscrupulous ways. He was aware that Gian Maria had been forced byweight of argument to let him go, and he shrewdly feared that did helinger, his cousin might veer round again, and without pausing to seekadvice a second time, have him disposed of out of hand and reckless ofconsequences. 

Whilst Lanciotto was left busy in the ante-room the Count passed intohis bedchamber attended by Zaccaria, to make in his raiment such changesas were expedient. But scarce had he begun when he was interrupted bythe arrival of Fanfulla degli Arcipreti, whom Lanciotto ushered in. Francesco's face lighted at sight of his friend, and he held out hishand. 

"What is it that has happened?" cried the young gallant, adding thatwhich showed his question to be unnecessary, for from Fabrizio da Lodihe had had the whole story of what was befallen. He sat himself upon thebed, and utterly disregarding the presence of Zaccaria--whom he knewto be faithful--he attempted to persuade the Count where Fabrizio hadfailed. But Paolo cut him short ere he had gone very far. 

"Have done with that, " he said, and for all that he said it witha laugh, determination sounded sturdy in his accents. "I am aknight-errant, not a prince, and I'll not be converted from one to theother. It were making a helot of a free man, and you do not love me, Fanfulla, if you drive this argument further. Do you think me sad, cast down, at the prospect of this banishment? Why, boy, the blood runsswifter through my veins since I heard the sentence. It frees me fromBabbiano in an hour when perhaps my duty--the reciprocation of thepeople's love--might otherwise have held me here, and it gives meliberty to go forth, my good Fanfulla, in quest of such adventure asI chose to follow. " He threw out his arms, and displayed his splendidteeth in a hearty laugh. 

Fanfulla eyed him, infected by the boisterous gladness of his mood. 

"Why, true indeed, my lord, " he acknowledged, "you are too fine a birdto sing in a cage. But to go knight-erranting----" He paused, and spreadhis hands in protest. "There are no longer dragons holding princessescaptive. "

"Alas no. But the Venetians are on the eve of war, and they will findwork for these hands of mine. I want not for friends among them. "

Fanfulla sighed. 

"And so we lose you. The stoutest arm in Babbiano leaves us in the hourof need, driven out by that loutish Duke. By my soul, Ser Francesco, Iwould I might go with you. Here is nothing to be done. "

Francesco paused in the act of drawing on a boot, and raised his eyes tostare a moment at his friend. 

"But if you wish it, Fanfulla, I shall rejoice to have your company. "

And now the idea of it entered Fanfulla's mind in earnest, for hisexpression had been more or less an idle one. But since Francescoinvited him, why not indeed?

And thus it came to pass that at the third hour of that warm May nighta party of four men on horseback and two sumpter mules passed out ofBabbiano and took the road that leads to Vinamare, and thence into theterritory of Urbino. These riders were the Count of Aquila and Fanfulladegli Arcipreti, followed by Lanciotto leading a mule that bore the armsof those knights-errant, and Zaccaria leading another with their generalbaggage. 

All night they rode beneath the stars, and on until some three hoursafter sunrise, when they made halt in a hollow of the hills not far fromFabriano. They tethered their horses in a grove of peaceful laurel andsheltering mulberry, at the foot of a slope that was set with olivetrees, grey, gnarled and bent as aged cripples, and beside the riverEsino at a spot where it was so narrow that an agile man might leap itswidth. Here, then, they spread their cloaks, and Zaccaria unpackedhis victuals, and set before them a simple meal of bread and wine androasted fowl, which to their hunger made more appeal than a banquet atanother season. And when they had eaten they laid them down beside thestream, and there beguiled in pleasant talk the time until they fellasleep. They rested them through the heat of the day, and waking somethree hours after noon, the Count rose up and went some dozen paces downthe stream to a spot where it fell into a tiny lake--a pool deep andblue as the cloudless heavens which it mirrored. Here he stripped offhis garments and plunged headlong in, to emerge again, some momentslater, refreshed and reinvigorated in body and in soul. 

As Fanfulla awoke he beheld an apparition coming towards him, a figurelithe and stalwart as a sylvian god, the water shining on the ivorywhiteness of his skin and glistening in his sable hair as the sunlightcaught it. 

"Tell me now, Fanfulla, lives there a man of so depraved a mind that hewould prefer a ducal crown to this?"

And the courtier, seeing Francesco's radiant mien, understood perhaps, at last, how sordid was the ambition that could lure a man from such agod-like freedom, and from the holy all-consuming joys it brought him. His thoughts being started upon that course, it was of this they talkedwhat time the Count resumed his garments--his hose of red, his knee-highboots of untanned leather, and his quilted brigandine of plain browncloth, reputed dagger-proof. He rose at last to buckle on his beltof hammered steel, from which there hung, behind his loins, a stout, lengthy dagger, the only weapon that he carried. 

At his command the horses were saddled and the sumpters laden once more. Lanciotto held his stirrup, and Zaccaria did like service for Fanfulla, and presently they were cantering out of that fragrant grove on to theelastic sward of broad, green pasture-lands. They crossed the stream ata spot where the widened sheet of water scarce went higher than theirhorses' hocks; then veering to the east they rode away from the hillsfor a half-league or so until they gained a road. Here they turnednorthward again, and pushed on towards Cagli. 

As the bells were ringing the Ave Maria the cavalcade drew up beforethe Palazzo Valdicampo, where two nights ago Gian Maria had beenentertained. Its gates were now as readily thrown wide to welcome theillustrious and glorious Count of Aquila, who was esteemed by MesserValdicampo no less than his more puissant cousin. Chambers were set athis disposal, and at Fanfulla's; servants were bidden to wait upon them;fresh raiment was laid out for them, and a noble supper was prepared todo honour to Francesco. Nor did the generous Valdicampo's manner coolwhen he learned that Francesco was in disgrace at the Court of Babbianoand banished from the dominions of Duke Gian Maria. He expressedsympathetic regret at so untoward a circumstance and discreetlyrefrained from passing any opinion thereupon. 

Yet later, as they supped, and when perhaps the choice wines hadsomewhat relaxed his discretion, he permitted himself to speak of GianMaria's ways in terms that were very far from laudatory. 

"Here, in my house, " he informed them, "he committed an outrage upon apoor unfortunate, for which an account may yet be asked of me--since itwas under my roof that the thing befell, for all that I knew nothing ofit. "

Upon being pressed by Paolo to tell them more, he parted with theinformation that the unfortunate in question was Urbino's jester Peppe. At that, Paolo's glance became more intent. The memory of his meetingwith the fool and his mistress in the woods, a month ago, flashed nowacross his mind, and it came to him that he could rightly guess thesource whence his cousin had drawn the information that had led to hisown arrest and banishment. 

"Of what nature was the outrage?" he inquired. 

"From what Peppe himself has told me it would seem that the fool waspossessed of some knowledge which Gian Maria sought, but on which Peppewas bound by oath to silence. Gian Maria caused him to be secretly takenand carried off from Urbino. His sbirri brought the fellow here, and tomake him speak the Duke improvised in his bedchamber a tratta di corde, which had the desired result. "

The Count's face grew dark with anger. "The coward!" he muttered. "Thedastardly craven!"

"But bethink you, sir Count, " exclaimed Valdicampo, "that this poorPeppe is a frail and deformed creature, lacking the strength of anordinary man, and do not judge him over-harshly. "

"It was not of him I spoke, " replied Francesco, "but of my cousin, thatcowardly tyrant, Gian Maria Sforza. Tell me, Messer Valdicampo--what hasbecome of Ser Peppe?"

"He is still here. I have had him tended, and his condition is alreadymuch improved. It will not be long ere he is recovered, but for a fewdays yet his arms will remain almost useless. They were all but tornfrom his body. "

When the meal was done Francesco begged his host to conduct him toPeppe's chamber. This Valdicampo did, and leaving Fanfulla in thecompany of the ladies of his house, he escorted the Count to the roomwhere the poor, ill-used hunchback was abed tended by one of the womenof Valdicampo's household. 

"Here is a visitor to see you, Ser Peppe, " the old gentleman announced, setting down his candle on a table by the bed. The jester turned hisgreat head towards the newcomer's, and sought with melancoly eyes theface of his visitor. At sight of him a look of terror spread itself uponhis countenance. 

"My lord, " he cried, struggling into a sitting posture, "my noble, gracious lord, have mercy on me. I could tear out this craven tongue ofmine. But did you know what agonies I suffered, and to what a torturethey submitted me to render me unfaithful, it may be that you, yourself, would pity me. "

"Why, that I do, " answered Francesco gently. "Indeed, could I have seenthe consequences that oath would have for you, I had not bound you byit. "

The fear in Peppe's face gave place to unbelief. 

"And you forgive me, lord?" he cried. "I dreaded when you enteredthat you were come to punish me for what wrong I may have done you inspeaking. But if you forgive me, it may be that Heaven will forgive mealso, and that I may not be damned. And that were a thousand pities, forwhat, my lord, should I do in hell?"

"Deride the agonies of Gian Maria, " answered Francesco, with a laugh. 

"It were almost worth burning for, " mused Peppe, putting forth a hand, whose lacerated, swollen wrist bore evidence to the torture he hadsuffered. At sight of it the Count made an exclamation of angry horror, and hastened to inquire into the poor fool's condition. 

"It is not so bad now, " Peppe answered him, "and it is only inconsequence of Messer Valdicampo's insistence that I have kept my bed. Ican scarce use my arms, it is true, but they are improving. To-morrowI shall be up, and I hope to set out for Urbino, where my dear mistressmust be distressed with fears for my absence, for she is a very kind andtender­hearted lady. "

This resolve of Peppe's prompted the Count to offer to conduct himto Urbino on the morrow, since he, himself, would be journeying thatway--an offer which the fool accepted without hesitation and with livelygratitude. 

CHAPTER XII. THE FOOL'S INQUISITIVENESS

In the morning Francesco set out once more, accompanied by his servants, Fanfulla, and the fool. The latter was now so far restored as to be ableto sit a mule, but lest the riding should over-tire him they proceededat little more than an ambling pace along the lovely valleys of theMetauro. Thus it befell that when night descended it found them stilljourneying, and some two leagues distant from Urbino. Another leaguethey travelled in the moonlight, and the fool was beguiling the timefor them with a droll story culled from the bright pages of MesserBoccaccio, when of a sudden his sharp ears caught a sound that struckhim dumb in the middle of a sentence. 

"Are you faint?" asked Francesco, turning quickly towards him, andmindful of the fellow's sore condition. 

"No, no, " answered the fool, with a readiness that dispelled the Count'salarm on that score. "I thought I heard a sound of marching in thedistance. "

"The wind in the trees, Peppino, " explained Fanfulla. 

"I do not think----" He stopped short and listened and now they allheard it, for it came wafted to them on a gust of the fitful breeze thatsmote their faces. 

"You are right, " said Francesco. "It is the tramp of men. But whatof that, Peppe? Men will march in Italy. Let us hear the end of yourstory. "

"But who should march in Urbino, and by night?" the fool persisted. 

"Do I know or do I care?" quoth the Count. "Your story, man. "

For all that he was far from satisfied, the fool resumed his narrative. But he no longer told it with his former irresistible humour. His mindwas occupied with that sound of marching, which came steadily nearer. At length he could endure it no longer, and the apathy of his companionsfired him openly to rebel. 

"My lord, " he cried, turning to the Count, and again leaving his storyinterrupted, "they are all but upon us. "

"True!" agreed Francesco indifferently. "The next turn yonder shouldbring us into them. "

"Then I beg you, Lord Count, to step aside. Let us pause here, underthe trees, until they have passed. I am full of fears. Perhaps I am acoward, but I mislike these roving night-hands. It may be a company ofmasnadieri. "

"What then?" returned the Count, without slackening speed. "What causehave we to fear a party of robbers?"

But Fanfulla and the servants joined their advice to Peppe's, andprevailed at last upon Francesco to take cover until this company shouldhave passed. He consented, to pacify them, and wheeling to the rightthey entered the border of the forest, drawing rein well in the shadow, whence they could survey the road and see who passed across the patchof moonlight that illumined it. And presently the company came alongand swung into that revealing flood of light. To the astonishment ofthe watchers they beheld no marauding party such as they had been led toexpect, but a very orderly company of some twenty men, soberly arrayedin leather hacketons and salades of bright steel, marching swordon thigh and pike on shoulder. At the head of this company rode apowerfully-built man on a great sorrel horse, at sight of whom thefool swore softly in astonishment. In the middle of the party came fourlitters borne by mules, and at the side of one of them rode a slender, graceful figure that provoked from Peppe a second oath. But theprofoundest objurgation of all was wrung from him at sight of a portlybulk in the black habit of the Dominicans ambling in the rear, who justthen was in angry altercation with a fellow that was urging his mulealong with the butt of his partisan. 

"May you be roasted on a gridiron like Saint Lawrence, " gasped the iratepriest. "Would you break my neck, brute beast that you are? Do youbut wait until we reach Roccaleone, and by St. Dominic, I'll get yourruffianly commander to hang you for this ill-seasoned jest. "

But his tormentor laughed for answer, and smote the mule again, a blowthis time that almost caused it to rear up. The friar cried out inangry alarm, and then, still storming and threatening his persecutor, hepassed on. After him came six heavily-laden carts, each drawn by a pairof bullocks, and the rear of the procession was brought up by a flock ofa dozen bleating sheep, herded by a blasphemant man-at-arms. They passedthe astonished watchers, who remained concealed until that odd companyhad melted away into the night. 

"I could swear, " said Fanfulla, "that that friar and I have met before. "

"Nor would you do a perjury, " answered him the fool. "For it is that fathog Fra Domenico--he that went with you to the Convent of Acquasparta tofetch unguents for his Excellency. "

"What does he in that company, and who are they?" asked the Count, turning to the fool as they rode out of their ambush. 

"Ask me where the devil keeps his lures, " quoth the fool, "and I'llmake some shift to answer you. But as for what does Fra Domenico in thatgalley, it is more than I can hazard a guess on. He is not the onlyone known to me, " Peppino added, "There was Ercole Fortemani, a great, dirty, blustering ruffian whom I never saw in aught but rags, riding attheir heads in garments of most unwonted wholeness; and there was RomeoGonzaga, whom I never knew to stir by night save to an assignation. Strange things must be happening in Urbino. "

"And the litters?" inquired Francesco, "Can you hazard no guess as totheir meaning?"

"None, " said he, "saving that they may account for the presence ofMesser Gonzaga. For litters argue women. "

"It seems, fool, that not even your wisdom shall avail us. But you heardthe friar say they were bound for Roccaleone?"

"Yes, I heard that. And by means of it we shall probably learn the restat the end of our journey. "

And being a man of extremely inquisitive mind, the fool set hisinquiries on foot the moment they entered the gates of Urbino in themorning--for they had reached the city over-late to gain admittance thatsame night, and were forced to seek shelter in one of the houses by theriver. It was of the Captain of the Gate that he sought information. 

"Can you tell me, Ser Capitan, " he inquired, "what company was that thattravelled yesternight to Roccaleone?"

The captain looked at him a moment. 

"There was none that I know of, " said he, "Certainly none from Urbino. "

"You keep a marvellous watch, " said the fool drily. "I tell you that acompany of men-at-arms some twenty strong went last night from Urbino toRoccaleone. "

"To Roccaleone?" echoed the captain, with a musing air, more attentivelythan before, as if the repetition of that name had suggested somethingto his mind. "Why, it is the castle of Monna Valentina. "

"True, sapient sir. But what of the company, and why was it travellingso, by night?"

"How know you it proceeded from Urbino?" quoth the captain earnestly. 

"Because at its head I recognised the roaring warrior Ercole Fortemani, in the middle rode Romeo Gonzaga, in the rear came Fra Domenico, Madonna's confessor--men of Urbino all. "

The officer's face grew purple at the news. 

"Were there any women in the party?" he cried. 

"I saw none, " replied the fool, in whom this sudden eagerness of thecaptain's awakened caution and reflection. 

"But there were four litters, " put in Francesco, whose nature was lesssuspicious and alert than the wise fool's. 

Too late Peppe scowled caution at him. The captain swore a great oath. 

"It is she, " he cried, with assurance. "And this company was travellingto Roccaleone, you say. How know you that?"

"We heard it from the friar, " answered Francesco readily. 

"Then, by the Virgin! we have them. Olį!" He turned from them, and ranshouting into the gatehouse, to re-emerge a moment later with half-dozensoldiers at his heels. 

"To the Palace, " he commanded, and as his men surrounded Francesco'sparty, "Come, sir, " he said to the Count. "You must go with us, and tellyour story to the Duke. "

"There is no need for all this force, " answered Francesco coldly. "In any case, I could not pass through Urbino without seeing DukeGuidobaldo. I am the Count of Aquila. "

At once the captain's bearing grew respectful. He made his apologies forthe violent measures of his zeal, and bade his men fall behind. Orderingthem to follow him, he mounted a horse that was brought him, and rodebriskly through the borgo at the Count's side. And as he rode he toldthem what the jester's quick intuition had already whispered to him. The lady Valentina was fled from Urbino in the night, and in her companywere gone three of her ladies, and--it was also supposed, since they haddisappeared--Fra Domenico and Romeo Gonzaga. 

Aghast at what he heard, Francesco pressed his informer for more news;but there was little more that the captain could tell him, beyondthe fact that it was believed she had been driven to it to escape herimpending marriage with the Duke of Babbiano. Guidobaldo was distraughtat what had happened, and anxious to bring the lady back before news ofher behaviour should reach the ears of Gian Maria. It was, therefore, amatter of no little satisfaction to the captain that the task should behis to bear Guidobaldo this news of her whereabouts which from Francescoand the jester he had derived. 

Peppe looked glum and sullen. Had he but bridled his cursed curiosity, and had the Count but taken the alarm in time and held his peace, allmight have been well with his beloved patrona. As it was, he--the oneman ready to die that he might serve her--had been the very one tobetray her refuge. He heard the Count's laugh, and the sound of it wasfuel to his anger. But Francesco only thought of the splendid daring ofthe lady's action. 

"But these men-at-arms that she had with her?" he cried. "For whatpurpose so numerous a bodyguard?"

The captain looked at him a moment. 

"Can you not guess?" he inquired. "Perhaps you do not know the Castle ofRoccaleone. "

"It were odd if I did not know the most impregnable fortress in Italy. "

"Why, then, does it not become clear? She has taken this company fora garrison, and in Roccaleone she clearly intends to resist in rebelfashion the wishes of his Highness. "

At that the Count threw back his head, and scared the passers-by with ashearty a peal of laughter as ever crossed his lips. 

"By the Host!" he gasped, laughter still choking his utterance. "Thereis a maid for you! Do you hear what the captain says, Fanfulla? Shemeans to resist this wedding by armed force if needs be. Now, on mysoul, if Guidobaldo insists upon the union after this, why, then, he hasno heart, no feeling. As I live, she is a kinswoman that such a warlikeprince might well be proud of. Small wonder that they do not fear theBorgia in Urbino. " And he laughed again. But the captain scowled at him, and Peppe frowned. 

"She is a rebellious jade, " quoth the captain sourly. 

"Nay, softly, " returned Francesco; for all that he still laughed. "Ifyou were of knightly rank I'd break a lance with you on that score. Asit is----" he paused, his laughter ceased, and his dark eyes took thecaptain's measure in a curious way. "Best leave her uncensured, SerCapitano. She is of the house of Rovere, and closely allied to that ofMontefeltro. "

The officer felt the rebuke, and silence reigned between them afterthat. 

It was whilst Francesco, Fanfulla and Peppe waited in the ante-chamberfor admittance to the Duke that the jester vented some of the bitternesshe felt at their babbling. The splendid room was thronged with a courtlycrowd. There were magnificent nobles and envoys, dark ecclesiasticsand purple prelates, captains in steel and court officers in silk andvelvet. Yet, heedless of who might hear him, Peppe voiced his rebuke, and the terms he employed were neither as measured nor as respectful asthe Count's rank dictated. Yet with that fairness of mind that made himso universally beloved, Francesco offered no resentment to the fool'sreproof. He saw that it was deserved, for it threw upon the matter alight that was new and more searching. But he presently saw further thandid the fool, and he smiled at the other's scowls. 

"Not so loud Peppe, " said he. "You over-estimate the harm. At worst, we have but anticipated by a little what the Duke must have learnt fromother sources. "

"But it is just that little--the few hours or days--that will do themischief, " snapped the jester testily, for all that he lowered hisvoice. "In a few days Gian Maria will be back. If he were met with thenews that the Lady Valentina were missing, that she had run away withRomeo Gonzaga--for that, you'll see, will presently be the tale--do youthink he would linger here, or further care to pursue his wooing? Nothe. These alliances that are for State purposes alone, in which theheart plays no part, demand, at least, that on the lady's side thereshall be a record unblemished by the breath of scandal. His Highnesswould have returned him home, and Madonna would have been rid of him. "

"But at a strange price, Peppe, " answered Franeesco gravely. "Still, " headded, "I agree that I would have served her purpose better by keepingsilent. But that such an affair will cool the ardour of my cousin I donot think. You are wrong in placing this among the alliances in whichthe heart has no part. On my cousin's side--if all they say be true--theheart plays a very considerable part indeed. But, for the rest--whatharm have we done?"

"Time will show, " said the hunchback. 

"It will show, then, that I have done no hurt whatever to herinterests. By now she is safe in Roccaleone. What, then, can befall her?Guidobaldo, no doubt, will repair to her, and across the moat he willentreat her to be a dutiful niece and to return. She will offer to doso on condition that he pass her his princely word not to further molesther with the matter of this marriage. And then?"

"Well?" growled the fool, "And then? Who shall say what may befall then?Let us say that his Highness reduces her by force. "

"A siege?" laughed the Count. "Pooh! Where is your wisdom, fool! Do youthink the splendid Guidobaldo is eager to become the sport of Italy, and go down to posterity as the duke who besieged his niece because sheresisted his ordainings touching the matter of her wedding?"

"Guidobaldo da Montefeltro can be a violent man upon occasion, " the foolwas answering, when the officer who had left them reappeared with theannouncement that his Highness awaited them. 

They found the Prince in a very gloomy mood, and after greetingFrancesco with cool ceremony, he questioned him on the matter of thecompany they had met yesternight. These inquiries he conducted withcharacteristic dignity, and no more show of concern than if it had beenan affair of a strayed falcon. He thanked Francesco for his information, and gave orders that the seneschal should place apartments at his andFanfulla's disposal for as long as it should please them to gracehis court. With that he dismissed them, bidding the officer remain toreceive his orders. 

"And that, " said Francesco to Peppe, as they crossed the ante-chamberin the wake of a servant, "is the man who would lay siege to his niece'scastle? For once, sir fool, your wisdom is at fault. "

"You do not know the Duke, Excellency, " answered the fool. "Beneath thatfrozen exterior burns a furnace, and there is no madness he would notcommit. "

But Francesco only laughed as, linking arms with Fanfulla, he passeddown the gallery on his way to the apartments to which the servant wasconducting them. 

CHAPTER XIII. GIAN MARIA MAKES A VOW

In a measure the events that followed would almost tend to show thatthe fool was right. For even if the notion of besieging Valentina andreducing her by force of arms was not Guidobaldo's own in the firstplace, yet he lent a very willing ear to the counsel that they shouldthus proceed, when angrily urged two days thereafter by the Duke ofBabbiano. 

Upon hearing the news Gian Maria had abandoned himself to such a licenceof rage as made those about him tremble from the highest to the meanest. The disappointment of his passion was in itself justification enough forthis; but, in addition, Gian Maria beheld in the flight of Valentina thefrustration of those bold schemes of which had talked so loudly to hiscouncillors and his mother. It was his confidence in those same schemesthat had induced him to send that defiant answer to Caesar Borgia. Asa consequence of this there was haste--most desperate haste--that heshould wed, since wedding was to lend him the power to carry out hisbrave promises of protecting his crown from the Duke of Valentinois, not to speak of the utter routing of the Borgia which he had wildlyundertaken to accomplish. 

That the destinies of States should be tossed to the winds of Heavenby a slip of a girl was to him something as insufferable as it had beenunexpected. 

"She must be brought back!" he had screeched, in his towering passion. "She must be brought back at once. "

"True!" answered Guidobaldo, in his serene way; "she must be broughtback. So far, I agree with you entirely. Tell me, now, how the thing isto be accomplished. " And there was sarcasm in his voice. 

"What difficulties does it present?" inquired Gian Maria. 

"No difficulties, " was the ironical reply. "She has shut herself up inthe stoutest castle in Italy, and tells me that she will not comeforth until I promise her freedom of choice in the matter of marriage. Clearly, there are no difficulties attached to her being brought back. "

Gian Maria showed his teeth. 

"Do you give me leave to go about it in my own way?" he asked. 

"Not only do I give you leave, but I'll render you all the assistance inmy power, if you can devise a means for luring her from Roccaleone. "

"I hesitate no longer. Your niece, Lord Duke, is a rebel, and as a rebelis she to be treated. She has garrisoned a castle, and hurled defianceat the ruler of the land. It is a declaration of war, Highness, and warwe shall have. "

"You would resort to force?" asked Guidobaldo, disapproval lurking inhis voice. 

"To the force of arms, your Highness, " answered Gian Maria, with promptfierceness. "I will lay siege to this castle of hers, and I shall tearit stone from stone. Oh, I would have wooed her nicely had she let me, with gentle words and mincing ways that maidens love. But sinceshe defies us, I'll woo her with arquebuse and cannon, and seek bystarvation to make her surrender to my suit. My love shall put on armourto subject her, and I vow to God that I shall not shave my beard until Iam inside her castle. "

Guidobaldo looked grave. 

"I should counsel gentler measures, " said he. "Besiege her if you will, but do not resort to too much violence. Cut off their resources and lethunger be your advocate. Even so, I fear me, you will be laughed at byall Italy, " he added bluntly. 

"A fig for that! Let the fools laugh if they be minded to. What forceshas she at Roccaleone?"

At the question Guidobaldo's brow grew dark. It was as if he hadrecalled some circumstance that had lain forgotten. 

"Some twenty knaves led by a notorious ruffian of the name of Fortemani. The company was enrolled, they tell me, by a gentleman of my court, akinsman of my Duchess, Messer Romeo Gonzaga. "

"Is he with her now?" gasped Gian Maria. 

"It would seem he is. "

"By the Virgin's Ring of Perugia!" spluttered Gian Maria in increaseddismay. "Do you suggest that they fled together?"

"My lord!" Guidobaldo's voice rang sharp and threatening. "It is of myniece that you are speaking. She took this gentleman with her just asshe took three of her ladies and a page or two, to form such attendanceas befits her birth. "

Gian Maria took a turn in the apartment, a frown wrinkling his brow, andhis lips pressed tight. Guidobaldo's proud words by no means convincedhim. But the one preponderating desire in his heart just then wasto humble the girl who had dared to flout him, to make her bend herstubborn neck. At last:

"I may indeed become the laughing-stock of Italy, " he muttered, in aconcentrated voice, "but I shall carry my resolve through, and my firstact upon entering Roccaleone will be to hang this knave Gonzaga from itshighest turret. "

That very day Gian Maria began his preparations for the expeditionagainst Roccaleone, and word of it was carried by Fanfulla toFrancesco--for the latter had left his quarters at the palace uponhearing of Gian Maria's coming, and was now lodging at the sign of the"Sun. "

Upon hearing the news he swore a mighty oath in which he consignedhis cousin to the devil, by whom, in that moment, he pronounced himbegotten. 

"Do you think, " he asked, when he was calmer, "that this man Gonzaga isher lover?"

"It is more than I can say, " answered Fanfulla. "There is the fact thatshe fled with him. Though when I questioned Peppe on this same subjecthe first laughed the notion to scorn, and then grew grave. 'She loveshim not, the popinjay, ' he said; 'but he loves her, or I am blind else, and he's a villain, I know. '"

Francesco stood up, his face mighty serious, and his dark eyes full ofuneasy thought. 

"By the Host! It is a shameful thing, " he cried out at last. "Thispoor lady so beset on every hand by a parcel of villains, each moreunscrupulous than the other. Fanfulla, send for Peppe. We must despatchthe fool to her with warning of Gian Maria's coming, and warning, too, against this man of Mantua she has fled with. "

"Too late, " answered Fanfulla. "The fool departed this morning forRoccaleone, to join his patrona. "

Francesco looked his dismay. 

"She will be undone, " he groaned. "Thus between the upper and the netherstone--between Gian Maria and Romeo Gonzaga. Gesł! she will be undone!And she so brave and so high-spirited!"

He moved slowly to the casement, and stood staring at the windows acrossthe street, on which the setting sun fell in a ruddy glow. But it wasnot the windows that he saw. It was a scene in the woods at Acquaspartaon that morning after the mountain fight; a man lying wounded in thebracken, and over him a gentle lady bending with eyes of pity andsolicitude. Often since had his thoughts revisited that scene, sometimeswith a smile, sometimes with a sigh, and sometimes with both at once. 

He turned suddenly upon Fanfulla. "I will go myself, " he announced. 

"You?" echoed Fanfulla. "But the Venetians?"

By a gesture the Count signified how little the Venetians weighed withhim when compared with the fortunes of this lady. 

"I am going to Roccaleone, " he insisted, "now--at once. " And striding tothe door he beat his hands together and called Lanciotto. 

"You said, Fanfulla, that in these days there are no longer maidens heldin bondage to whom a knight-errant may lend aid. You were at fault, forin Monna Valentina we have the captive maiden, in my cousin the dragon, in Gonzaga another, and in me the errant knight who is destined--Ihope--to save her. "

"You will save her from Gian Maria?" questioned Fanfulla incredulously. 

"I will attempt it. "

He turned to his servant, who entered as he spoke. 

"We set out in a quarter of an hour, Lanciotto, " said he. "Saddle for meand for yourself. You are to go with me. Zaccaria may remain with Messerdegli Arcipreti. You will care for him, Fanfulla, and he will serve youwell. "

"But what of me?" cried Fanfulla. "Do I not accompany you?"

"If you will, yes. But you might serve me better by returning toBabbiano and watching the events there, sending me word of whatbefalls--for great things will befall soon if my cousin returns not andthe Borga advances. It is upon this that I am founding such hopes as Ihave. "

"But whither shall I send you word? To Roccaleone?"

Francesco reflected a moment. "If you do not hear from me, then sendyour news to Roccaleone, for if I should linger there and we arebesieged, it will perhaps be impossible to send a message to you. Butif--as I hope--I go to Aquila, I will send you word of it. "

"To Aquila?"

"Yes. It may be that I shall be at Aquila before the week is out. Butkeep it secret, Fanfulla, and I'll fool these dukes to the very top oftheir unhealthy bent. "

A half-hour later the Count of Aquila, mounted on a stout Calabrianhorse, and attended by Lanciotto on a mule, rode gently down towards thevalley. They went unnoticed, for what cared for them the peasants thatsang at their labours in the contado?

They met a merchant, whose servant was urging his laden sumpters upthe hilly road to the city on the heights, and they passed him with acourteous greeting. Farther they came upon a mounted company of noblesand ladies, returning from a hawking party, and followed by attendantsbearing their hooded falcons, and their gay laughter still rang inFrancesco's ears after he had passed from their sight and vanished inthe purple mists of eventide that came up to meet him from the river. 

They turned westward towards the Apennines, and pushed on after nighthad fallen, until the fourth hour, when at Francesco's suggestion theydrew rein before a sleepy, wayside locanda, and awoke the host to demandshelter. There they slept no longer than until matins, so that the greylight of dawn saw them once more upon their way, and by the time the sunhad struck with its first golden shaft the grey crest of the old hills, they drew rein on the brink of the roaring torrent at the foot of themighty crag that was crowned by the Castle of Roccaleone. 

Grim and gaunt it loomed above the fertile vale, with that torrentcircling it in a natural moat, like a giant sentinel of the Apenninesthat were its background. And now the sunlight raced down the slopes ofthe old mountains like a tide. It smote the square tower of the keep, then flowed adown the wall, setting the old grey stone a-gleaming, andflashing back from a mullioned window placed high up. Lower it came, revealing grotesque gargoyles, flooding the crenellated battlements andturning green the ivy and lichen that but a moment back had blackenedthe stout, projecting buttresses. Thence it leapt to the ground, anddrove the shadow before it down the grassy slope, until it reachedthe stream and sparkled on its foaming, tumbling waters, scattering ahundred colours through the flying spray. 

And all that time, until the sun had reached him and included him in thepicture it was awakening, the Count of Aquila sat in his saddle, withthoughtful eyes uplifted to the fortress. 

Then, Lanciotto following him, he walked his horse round the westernside, where the torrent was replaced by a smooth arm of water, forwhich a cutting had been made to complete the isolation of the crag ofRoccaleone. But here, where the castle might more easily have becomevulnerable, a blank wall greeted him, broken by no more than a narrowslit or two midway below the battlements. He rode on towards thenorthern side, crossing a footbridge that spanned the river, and atlast coming to a halt before the entrance tower. Here again the moat wasformed by the torrential waters of the mountain stream. 

He bade his servant rouse the inmates, and Lanciotto hallooed in a voicethat nature had made deep and powerful. The echo of it went booming upto scare the birds on the hillside, but evoked no answer from the silentcastle. 

"They keep a zealous watch, " laughed the Count. "Again, Lanciotto. "

The man obeyed him, and again and again his deep voice rang out like atrumpet-call before sign was made from within that it had been heard. At length, above the parapet of the tower appeared a stunted figure withhead unkempt, as grotesque almost as any of the gargoyles beneath, andan owlish face peered at them from one of the crenels of the battlement, and demanded, in surly, croaking tones their business. Instantly theCount recognised Peppe. 

"Good morrow, fool, " he bade him. 

"You, my lord?" exclaimed the jester. 

"You sleep soundly at Roccaleone, " quoth Francesco. "Bestir that knavishgarrison of yours, and bid the lazy dogs let down the bridge. I havenews for Monna Valentina. "

"At once, Excellency, " the fool replied, and would have gone upon theinstant but that Francesco recalled him. 

"Say, Peppe, a knight--the knight she met at Acquasparta, if you will. But leave my name unspoken. "

With the assurance that he would obey his wishes Peppe went his errand. A slight delay ensued, and then upon the battlements appeared Gonzaga, sleepy and contentious, attended by a couple of Fortemani's knaves, whocame to ask the nature of Francesco's business. 

"It is with Monna Valentina, " answered him Francesco, raising headand voice, so that Gonzaga recognised him for the wounded knight ofAcquasparta, remembered and scowled. 

"I am Monna Valentina's captain here, " he announced, with arrogance. "And you may deliver to me such messages as you bear. "

There followed a contention, conducted ill-humouredly on the part ofGonzaga and scarcely less so on the Count's, Francesco stoutly refusingto communicate his business to any but Valentina, and Gonzaga as stoutlyrefusing to disturb the lady at that hour, or to lower the bridge. Wordsflew between them across the waters of the moat, and grew hotter at eachfresh exchange, till in the end they were abruptly terminated by theappearance of Valentina herself, attended by Peppino. 

"What is this, Gonzaga?" she inquired, her manner excited, for the foolhad told her that it was the knight Francesco who sought admittance, and at the very mention of the name she had flushed, then paled, thenstarted for the ramparts. "Why is this knight denied admittance sincehe bears a message for me?" And from where she stood she soughtwith admiring eyes the graceful shape of the Count of Aquila--theknight-errant of her dreams. Francesco bared his head, and bent tothe withers of his horse in courteous greeting. She turned to Gonzagaimpatiently. 

"For what do you wait?" she cried. "Have you not understood my wishes?Let the bridge be lowered. "

"Bethink you, Madonna, " he remonstrated. "You do not know this man. Hemay be a spy of Gian Maria's--a hireling paid to betray us. "

"You fool, " she answered sharply. "Do you not see that it is the woundedknight we met that day you were escorting me to Urbino?"

"What shall that signify?" demanded he. "Is it proof of his honesty ofpurpose or loyalty to you? Be advised, Madonna, and let him deliver hismessage from where he is. He is safer there. "

She measured him with a determined eye. 

"Messer Gonzaga, order them to lower the bridge, " she bade him. 

"But, lady, bethink you of your peril. "

"Peril?" she echoed. "Peril from two men, and we a garrison of overtwenty? Surely the man is a coward who talks so readily of perils. Havethe drawbridge lowered. "

"But if----" he began, with a desperate vehemence, when again she cuthim short. 

"Am I to be obeyed? Am I mistress, and will you bid them lower thebridge, or must I, myself, go see to it?"

With a look of despairing anger and a shrug of the shoulders he turnedfrom her, and despatched one of his men with an order. A few momentslater, with a creaking of hinges and a clanking of chains, the greatbridge swung down and dropped with a thud to span the gulf. Instantlythe Count spurred his horse forward, and followed by Lanciotto rodeacross the plank and under the archway of the entrance tower into thefirst courtyard. 

Now, scarcely had he drawn rein there when through a door at the far endappeared the gigantic figure of Fortemani, half-clad and sword in hand. At sight of Francesco the fellow leaped down a half-dozen steps, andadvanced towards him with a burst of oaths. 

"To me!" he shouted, in a voice that might have waked the dead. "Olį!Olį! What devil's work is this? How come you here? By whose orders wasthe bridge let down?"

"By the orders of Monna Valentina's captain, " answered Francesco, wondering what madman might be this. 

"Captain?" cried the other, coming to a standstill and his face turningpurple. "Body of Satan! What captain? I am captain here. "

The Count looked him over in surprise. 

"Why, then, " said he, "you are the very man I seek. I congratulate youon the watch you keep, Messer Capitano. Your castle is so excellentlypatrolled that had I been minded for a climb I had scaled your walls andgot within your gates without arousing any of your slumbering sentries. "

Fortemani eyed him with a lowering glance. The prosperity of the pastfour days had increased the insolence inherent in the man. 

"Is that your affair?" he growled menacingly. "You are over-bold, sirstranger, to seek a quarrel with me, and over-pert to tell me how Ishall discharge my captaincy. By the Passion! You shall be punished. "

"Punished--I?" echoed Francesco, on whose brow there now descended ascowl as black as Ercole's own. 

"Aye, punished, young sir. Ercole Fortemani is my name. "

"I have heard of you, " answered the Count contemptuously, "and of howyou belie that name of yours, for they tell me that a more drunken, cowardly, good-for-nothing rogue is not to be found in Italy--no, noteven in the Pope's dominions. And have a care how you cast the word'punishment' at your betters, animal. The moat is none so distant, andthe immersion may profit you. For I'll swear you've not been washedsince they baptized you--if, indeed, you be a son of Mother Church atall. "

"Sangue di Cristo!" spluttered the enraged bully, his face mottled. "This to me? Come down from that horse. "

He laid hold of Francesco's leg to drag him to the ground, but the Countwrenched it free by a quick motion that left a gash from his spur uponthe captain's hands. Simultaneously he raised his whip, and would havelaid the lash of it across the broad of Fortemani's back--for it hadangered him beyond words to have a ruffian of this fellow's qualityseeking to ruffle it with him--but at that moment a female voice, sternand imperative, bade them hold in their quarrel. 

Fortemani fell back nursing his lacerated hand and muttering curses, whilst Francesco turned in the direction whence that voice had come. Midway on the flight of stone steps he beheld Valentina, followedby Gonzaga, Peppe, and a couple of men-at-arms, descending from thebattlements. 

Calm and queenly she stood, dressed in a camorra of grey velvet withblack sleeves, which excellently set off her handsome height. Gonzagawas leaning forward, speaking into her ear, and for all that his voicewas subdued, some of his words travelled down to Francesco on the still, morning air. 

"Was I not wise, Madonna, in that I hesitated to admit him? You see whatmanner of man he is. "

The blood flamed in Francesco's cheeks, nor did it soften his chagrin tonote the look which Valentina flashed down at him. 

Instantly he leapt to the ground, and flinging his reins to Lanciottohe went forward to the foot of that stone staircase, his broad hat slungback upon his shoulders, to meet that descending company. 

"Is this seemly, sir?" she questioned angrily. "Does it become you tobrawl with my garrison the moment you are admitted?"

The blood rose higher in Francesco's face, and now suffused his templesand reached his hair. Yet his voice was well restrained as he madeanswer:

"Madonna, this knave was insolent. "

"An insolence that you no doubt provoked, " put in Gonzaga, a dimpleshowing on his woman's cheek. But the sterner rebuke fell from the lipsof Valentina. 

"Knave?" she questioned, with flushed countenance. "If you would nothave me regret your admittance, Messer Francesco, I pray you curb yourwords. Here are no knaves. That, sir, is the captain of my soldiers. "

Francesco bowed submissively, as patient under her reproof as he hadbeen hasty under Fortemani's. 

"It was on the matter of this captaincy that we fell to words, " heanswered, with more humility. "By his own announcement I understood thisnobleman"--and his eyes turned to Gonzaga--"to be your captain. "

"He is the captain of my castle, " she informed him. 

"As you see, Ser Francesco, " put in Peppe, who had perched himself uponthe balustrade, "we suffer from no lack of captains here. We have alsoFra Domenico, who is captain of our souls and of the kitchen; myself amcaptain of----"

"Devil take you, fool, " snapped Gonzaga, thrusting him roughly from hisperch. Then turning abruptly to the Count: "You bear a message for us, sir?" he questioned loftily. 

Swallowing the cavalier tone, and overlooking the pronoun Gonzagaemployed, Francesco inclined his head again to the lady. 

"I should prefer to deliver it in more privacy than this. " And hiseye travelled round the court and up the steps behind, where was nowcollected the entire company of Fortemani. Gonzaga sneered and tossedhis golden curls, but Valentina saw naught unreasonable in the request, and bidding Romeo attend her and Francesco follow, she led the way. 

They crossed the quadrangle, and, mounting the steps down whichFortemani had dashed to meet the Count, they passed into thebanqueting-hall, which opened directly upon the south side of thecourtyard. The Count, following in her wake, ran the gauntlet of scowlsof the assembled mercenaries. He stalked past them unmoved, taking theirmeasure as he went, and estimating their true value with the unerringeye of the practised condottiero who has had to do with the enrolling ofmen and the handling of them. So little did he like their looks that onthe threshold of the hall he paused and stayed Gonzaga. 

"I am loath to leave my servant at the mercy of those ruffians, sir. MayI beg that you will warn them against offering him violence?"

"Ruffians?" cried the lady angrily, before Gonzaga could offer a reply. "They are my soldiers. "

Again he bowed, and there was a cold politeness in the tones in which heanswered her:

"I crave your pardon, and I will say no more--unless it be to deplorethat I may not felicitate you on your choice. "

It was Gonzaga's turn to wax angry, for the choice had been his. 

"Your message will have need to be a weighty one, sir, to earn ourpatience for your impertinence. "

Francesco returned the look of those blue eyes which vainly sought toflash ferociously, and he made little attempt to keep his scorn fromshowing in his glance. He permitted himself even to shrug his shouldersa trifle impatiently. 

"Indeed, indeed, I think that I had best begone, " he answeredregretfully, "for it is a place whose inmates seem all bent onquarrelling with me. First your captain Fortemani greets me with aninsolence hard to leave unpunished. You, yourself, Madonna, resent thatI should crave protection for my man against those fellows whose looksgive rise for my solicitation. You are angry that I should dub themruffians, as if I had followed the calling of arms these ten yearswithout acquiring knowledge of the quality of a man however much you maydisguise him. And lastly, to crown all, this cicisbeo"--and he spread ahand contemptuously towards Gonzaga--"speaks of my impertinences. "

"Madonna, " cried Gonzaga, "I beg that you will let me deal with him. "

Unwittingly, unwillingly, Gonzaga saved the situation by that prayer. The anger that was fast rising in Madonna's heart, stirred by the proudbearing of the Count, was scattered before the unconscious humour of hercaptain's appeal, in such ludicrous contrast was his mincing speech andslender figure with Francesco's firm tones and lean, active height. She did not laugh, for that would have been to have spoilt all, but shelooked from one to the other with quiet relish, noting the glanceof surprise and raised eyebrows with which the Count received thecourtier's request to be let deal with him. And thus, being turnedfrom anger, the balance of her mind was quick to adjust itself, andshe bethought her that perhaps there was reason in what this knightadvanced, and that his reception had lacked the courtesy that was hisdue. In a moment, with incomparable grace and skill, she had soothedGonzaga's ruffled vanity, and appeased the Count's more sturdyresentment. 

"And now, Messer Francesco, " she concluded, "let us be friends, and letme hear your business. I beg that you will sit. "

They had passed into the banqueting-hall--a noble apartment, whose wallswere frescoed with hunting and pastoral scenes, one or two of whichwere the work of Pisaniello. There were, too, some stray trophies ofthe chase, and, here and there, a suit of costly armour that caught thesunlight pouring through the tall, mullioned windows. At the far endstood a richly carved screen of cedar, and above this appeared thetwisted railing of the minstrels' gallery. In a tall armchair ofuntanned leather, at the head of the capacious board, Monna Valentinasat herself, Gonzaga taking his stand at her elbow, and Francescofronting her, leaning lightly against the table. 

"The news I bear you, lady, is soon told, " said the Count. "I would itsquality were better. Your suitor Gian Maria returning to Guidobaldo'scourt, eager for the nuptials that were promised him, has learnt of yourflight to Roccaleone and is raising--indeed will have raised by now--anarmy to invest and reduce your fortress. "

Gonzaga turned as pale as the vest of white silk that gleamed beneathhis doublet of pearl-coloured velvet at this realisation of theprophecies he had uttered without believing. A sickly fear possessedhis soul. What fate would they mete out to him who had been the leadingspirit in Valentina's rebellion? He could have groaned aloud at thismiscarriage of all his fine plans. Where now would be the time to talkof love, to press and carry his suit with Valentina and render himselfher husband? These would be war in the air, and bloody work that madehis skin creep and turn cold to ponder on. And the irony of it allwas keenly cruel. It was the very contingency that he had prophesied, assured that neither Guidobaldo nor Gian Maria would be so mad as tocourt ridicule by engaging upon it. 

For a second Francesco's eyes rested on the courtier's face, and saw thefear written there for all to read. The shadow of a smile quivered onhis lips as his glance moved on to meet the eyes of Valentina, sparklingas sparkles frost beneath the sun. 

"Why, let them come!" she exclaimed, almost in exultation. "This ducaloaf shall find me very ready for him. We are armed at all points. Wehave victuals to last us three months, if need be, and we have no lackof weapons. Let Gian Maria come, and he will find Valentina della Roverenone so easy to reduce. To you, sir, " she continued, with more calm, "toyou on whom I have no claim, I am more than grateful for your chivalrousact in riding here to warn me. "

Francesco sighed; a look of regret crossed his face. 

"Alas!" he said. "When I rode hither, Madonna, I had hoped to serve youto a better purpose. I had advice to offer and assistance if you shouldneed it; but the sight of those men-at-arms of yours makes me fear thatit is not advice upon which it would be wise to act. For the plan I hadin mind, it would be of the first importance that your soldiers shouldbe trustworthy, and this, I fear me, they are not. "

"Nevertheless, " put in Gonzaga feverishly, clinging to a slender hope, "let us hear it. "

"I beg that you will, " said Valentina. 

Thus enjoined, Francesco pondered a moment. 

"Are you acquainted with the politics of Babbiano?" he inquired. 

"I know something of them. "

"I will make the position quite clear to you, Madonna, " he rejoined. Andwith that he told her of the threatened descent of Caesar Borgia uponGian Maria's duchy, and hence, of the little time at her suitor'sdisposal; so that if he could but be held in check before the walls ofRoccaleone for a little while, all might be well. "But seeing inwhat haste he is, " he ended, "his methods are likely to be rough anddesperate, and I had thought that meanwhile you need not remain here, Madonna. "

"Not remain?" she cried, scorn of the notion in her voice. "Not remain?"quoth Gonzaga timorously, hope sounding in his. 

"Precisely, Madonna. I would have proposed that you leave Gian Mariaan empty nest, so that even if the castle should fall into his hands hewould gain nothing. "

"You would advise me to fly?" she demanded. 

"I came prepared to do so, but the sight of your men restrains me. Theyare not trustworthy, and to save their dirty skins they might throwRoccaleone open to the besiegers, and thus your flight would bediscovered, while yet there might be time to render it futile. "

Before she could frame an answer there was Gonzaga feverishly urging herto act upon so wise and timely a suggestion, and seek safety in flightfrom a place that Gian Maria would tear stone from stone. His wordspattered quickly and piteously in entreaty, till in the end, facing himsquarely:

"Are you afraid, Gonzaga?" she asked him. 

"I am--afraid for you, Madonna, " he answered readily. 

"Then let your fears have peace. For whether I stay or whether I go, onething is certain: Gian Maria never shall set hands upon me. " She turnedagain to Francesco. "I see a certain wisdom in the counsel of flightyou would have offered me, no less than in what I take to be your advicethat I should remain. Did I but consult my humour I should stay anddeliver battle when this tyrant shows himself. But prudence, too, mustbe consulted, and I will give the matter thought. " And now she thankedhim with a generous charm for having come to her with this news andproffered his assistance, asking what motives brought him. 

"Such motives as must ever impel a knight to serve a lady in distress, "said he, "and perhaps, too, the memory of the charity with which youtended my wounds that day at Acquasparta. "

For a second their glances met, quivered in the meeting, and fell apartagain, an odd confusion in the breast of each, all of which Gonzaga, sunk in moody rumination, observed not. To lighten the awkward silencethat was fallen, she asked him how it had transpired so soon that it wasto Roccaleone she had fled. 

"Do you not know?" he cried. "Has not Peppe told you?"

"I have had no speech with him. He but reached the castle, himself, latelast night, and I first saw him this morning when he came to announceyour presence. "

And then, before more could be said, there arose a din of shouting fromwithout. The door was pushed suddenly open, and Peppe darted into theroom. 

"Your man, Ser Francesco, " he cried, his face white with excitement. "Come quickly, or they will kill him. "

CHAPTER XIV. FORTEMANI DRINKS WATER

The thing had begun with the lowering glances that Francesco hadobserved, and had grown to gibes and insults after he had disappeared. But Lanciotto had preserved an unruffled front, being a man schooled inthe Count of Aquila's service to silence and a wondrous patience. Thisinsensibility those hinds translated into cowardice, and emboldenedby it--like the mongrels that they were--their offensiveness grew moredirect and gradually more threatening. Lanciotto's patience was slowlyoozing away, and indeed, it was no longer anything but the fear ofprovoking his master's anger that restrained him. At length one burlyruffian, who had bidden him remove his head-piece in the company ofgentlemen, and whose request had been by Lanciotto as disregarded asthe rest, advanced menacingly towards him and caught him by the leg, asErcole had caught his master. Exasperated at that, Lanciotto had swunghis leg free, and caught the rash fellow a vicious kick in the face thathad felled him, stunned and bleeding. 

The roar from the man's companions told Lanciotto what to expect. In aninstant they were upon him, clamouring for his blood. He sought to drawhis master's sword, which together with the Count's other armour wasslung across his saddle-bow; but before he could extricate it, he wasseized by a dozen hands, and cropped, fighting, from the saddle. On theground they overpowered him, and a mailed hand was set upon his mouth, crushing back into his throat the cry for help he would have raised. 

On the west side of the courtyard a fountain issuing from the wallhad once poured its water through a lion's head into a vast tank ofmoss-grown granite. But it had been disused for some time, and the pipein the lion's mouth was dry. The tank, however, was more than half fullof water, which, during the late untenanting of the castle, had turnedfoul and stagnant. To drown Lanciotto in this was the amiable suggestionthat emanated from Fortemani himself--a suggestion uproariously receivedby his knaves, who set themselves to act upon it. They roughly draggedthe bleeding and frantically struggling Lanciotto across the yard andgained the border of the tank, intending fully to sink him into it andhold him under, to drown there like a rat. 

But in that instant a something burst upon him like a bolt from out ofHeaven. In one or two, and presently in more, the cruel laughter turnedto sudden howls of pain as a lash of bullock-hide caught them about headand face and shoulders. 

"Back there, you beasts, you animals, back!" roared a voice of thunder, and back they went unquestioning before that pitiless lash, like thepack of craven hounds they were. 

It was Francesco, who, single-handed, and armed with no more than awhip, was scattering them from about his maltreated servant, as the hawkscatters a flight of noisy sparrows. And now between him and Lanciottothere stood no more than the broad bulk of Ercole Fortemani, his back tothe Count; for, as yet, he had not realised the interruption. 

Francesco dropped his whip, and setting one hand at the captain'sgirdle, and the other at his dirty neck, he hoisted him up with astrength incredible, and hurled him from his path and into the slimywater of the tank. 

There was a mighty roar drowned in a mightier splash as Fortemani, spread-eagle, struck the surface and sank from sight, whilst with theflying spray there came a fetid odour to tell of the unsavouriness ofthat unexpected bath. 

Without pausing to see the completion of his work, Francesco stoopedover his prostrate servant. 

"Have the beasts hurt you, Lanciotto?" he questioned. But before thefellow could reply, one of those hinds had sprung upon the stoopingCount, and struck him with a dagger between the shoulder-blades. 

A woman's alarmed cry rang out, for Valentina was watching the affrayfrom the steps of the hall, with Gonzaga at her elbow. 

But Francesco's quilted brigandine had stood the test of steel, and thepoint of that assassin's dagger glanced harmlessly aside, doing no worsehurt than a rent in the silk surface of the garment. A second laterthe fellow found himself caught as in a bond of steel. The dagger waswrenched from his grasp, and the point of it laid against his breasteven as the Count forced him down upon his knees. 

In a flash was the thing done, yet to the wretched man who saw himselfupon the threshold of Eternity, and who--like a true son of theChurch--had a wholesome fear of hell, it seemed an hour whilst, withlivid cheeks and eyes starting from his head, he waited for that poniardto sink into his heart, as it was aimed. But not in his heart did theblow fall. With a sudden snort of angry amusement, the Count pitched thedagger from him and brought down his clenched fist with a crushing forceinto the ruffian's face. The fellow sank unconscious beneath that mightyblow, and Francesco, regaining the whip that lay almost at his feet, rose up to confront what others there might be. 

From the tank, standing breast-deep in that stinking water, his headand face grotesquely masked in a vile green slime of putrid vegetation, Ercole Fortemani bellowed with horrid blasphemy that he would have hisaggressor's blood, but stirred never a foot to take it. Not that he wasby nature wholly a coward; but inspired by a wholesome fear of theman who could perform such a miracle of strength, he remained out ofFrancesco's reach, well in the middle of that square basin, and lustilyroared orders to his men to tear the fellow to pieces. But his menhad seen enough of the Count's methods, and made no advance upon thatstalwart, dauntless figure that stood waiting for them with a whipwhich several had already tasted. Huddled together, more like a flock offrightened sheep than a body of men of war, they stood near the entrancetower, the mock of Peppe, who from the stone-gallery above--much tothe amusement of Valentina's ladies and two pert pages that were withhim--applauded in high-flown terms their wondrous valour. 

They stirred at last, but it was at Valentina's bidding. She hadbeen conferring with Gonzaga, who--giving it for his reason that she, herself, might need protection--had remained beside her, well out of thefray. She had been urging him to do something, and at last he had obeyedher, and moved down the short flight of steps into the court; but soreluctantly and slowly, that with an exclamation of impatience, shesuddenly brushed past him, herself to do the task she had begged of him. Past Francesco she went, with a word of such commendation of his valourand a look of such deep admiration, that the blood sprang, responsive, to his cheek. She paused with a solicitous inquiry for the now risen butsorely bruised Lanciotto. She flashed an angry look and an angry commandof silence at the great Ercole, still bellowing from his tank, and then, within ten paces of his followers, she halted, and with wrathful mien, and hand outstretched towards their captain, she bade them arrest him. 

That sudden, unexpected order struck dumb the vociferous Fortemani. Heceased, and gaped at his men, who eyed one another now in doubt; but thedoubt was quickly dispelled by the lady's own words:

"You will make him prisoner, and conduct him to the guardroom, or Iwill have you and him swept out of my castle, " she informed them, asconfidently as though she had a hundred men-at-arms to do her bidding onthem. 

A pace or so behind her stood the lily-cheeked Gonzaga, gnawing his lip, timid and conjecturing. Behind him again loomed the stalwart heightof Francesco del Falco with, at his side, Lanciotto, of mien almost asresolute as his own. 

That was the full force with which the lady spoke of sweeping them--asif they had been so much foulness--from Roccaleone, unless they didher bidding. They were still hesitating, when the Count advanced toValentina's side. 

"You have heard the choice our lady gives you, " he said sternly. "Letus know whether you will obey or disobey. This choice that is yours now, may not be yours again. But if you elect to disobey Madonna, the gate isbehind you, the bridge still down. Get you gone!"

Furtively, from under lowering brows, Gonzaga darted a look of impotentmalice at the Count. Whatever issue had the affair, this man must notremain in Roccaleone. He was too strong, too dominant, and he wouldrender himself master of the place by no other title than that strengthof his and that manner of command which Gonzaga accounted a coarse, swashbuckling bully's gift, but would have given much to be possessedof. Of how strong and dominant indeed he was never had Francesco offereda more signal proof. Those men, bruised and maltreated by him, wouldbeyond doubt have massed together and made short work of one lessdauntless but when a mighty courage such as his goes hand-in-hand withthe habit of command, such hinds as they can never long withstand it. They grumbled something among themselves, and one of them at last madeanswer:

"Noble sir, it is our captain that we are bidden to arrest. "

"True; but your captain, like yourselves, is in this lady's pay; andshe, your true, your paramount commander, bids you arrest him. " And now, whilst yet they hesitated, his quick wits flung them the bait that mustprove most attractive. "He has shown himself to-day unfitted for thecommand entrusted him and it may become a question, when he has beenjudged, of choosing one of you to fill the place he may leave empty. "

Hinds were they in very truth; the scum of the bravi that haunted themeanest borgo of Urbino. Their hesitation vanished, and such slightloyalty as they felt towards Ercole was overruled by the prospect of hisposition and his pay, should his disgrace become accomplished. 

They called upon him to come forth from his refuge, where he stillstood, dumb and stricken at this sudden turn events had taken. Hesullenly refused to obey the call to yield, until Francesco--who nowassumed command with a readiness that galled Gonzaga more and more--badeone of them go fetch an arquebuse and shoot the dog. At that he criedout for mercy, and came wading to the edge of the tank swearing thatif the immersion had not drowned him, it were a miracle but he waspoisoned. 

Thus closed an incident that had worn a mighty ugly look, and it servedto open Valentina's eyes to the true quality of the men Gonzaga hadhired her. Maybe that it opened his own for that amiable lute-thrummerwas green of experience in these matters. She bade Gonzaga care forFrancesco, and called one of the grinning pages from the gallery to behis esquire. A room was placed at his disposal for the little time thathe might spend at Roccaleone, whilst she debated what her course shouldbe. 

A bell tolled in the far southern wing of the castle, beyond the secondcourtyard, and summoned her to chapel, for there Fra Domenico said Masseach morning. And so she took her leave of Francesco, saying shewould pray Heaven to direct her to a wise choice, whether to fly fromRoccaleone, or whether to remain and ward off the onslaught of GianMaria. 

Francesco, attended by Gonzaga and the page, repaired to a handsome roomunder the Lion's Tower, which rose upon the south-eastern angle of thefortress. His windows overlooked the second, or inner, courtyard, acrosswhich Valentina and her ladies were now speeding on their way to Mass. 

Gonzaga made shift to stifle the resentment that he felt against thisman, in whom he saw an interloper, and strove to treat him with thecourtesy that was his due. He would even have gone the length ofdiscussing with him the situation--prompted by a certain mistrust, andcunningly eager to probe the real motive that had brought this strangerto interest himself in the affairs of Valentina. But Francesco, wearily, yet with an unimpeachable politeness, staved him off, and requestedthat Lanciotto might be sent to attend him. Seeing the futility ofhis endeavours, Gonzaga withdrew in increased resentment, but with aheightened sweetness of smile and profoundness of courtesies. 

He went below to issue orders for the raising of the bridge, and findingthe men singularly meek and tractable after the sharp lesson Francescohad read them, he vented upon them some of the vast ill-humour thatpossessed him. Next he passed on to his own apartments, and there he sathimself by a window overlooking the castle gardens, with his unpleasantthoughts for only company. 

But presently his mood lightened and he took courage, for he couldbe very brave when peril was remote. It was best, he reflected, thatValentina should leave Roccaleone. Such was the course he would adviseand urge. Naturally, he would go with her, and so he might advance hissuit as well elsewhere as in that castle. On the other hand, if sheremained, why, so would he, and, after all, what if Gian Maria came?As Francesco had said, the siege could not be protracted, thanks to thetangled affairs of Babbiano. Soon Gian Maria would be forced to turn himhomeward, to defend his Duchy. If, then, for a little while they couldhold him in check, all would yet be well. Surely he had been over-quickto despond. 

He rose and stretched himself with indolent relish, then pushing widehis casement, he leaned out to breathe the morning air. A soft laughescaped him. He had been a fool indeed to plague himself with fears whenhe had first heard of Gian Maria's coming. Properly viewed, it became aservice Gian Maria did him--whether they remained, or whether they went. Love has no stronger promoter than a danger shared, and a week of suchdisturbances as Gian Maria was likely to occasion them should do moreto advance his suit than he might hope to achieve in a whole month ofpeaceful wooing. Then the memory of Francesco set a wrinkle 'twixt hisbrows, and he bethought him how taken Valentina had been with the fellowwhen first she had beheld him at Acquasparta, and of how, as sherode that day, she had seen naught but the dark eyes of this KnightFrancesco. 

"Knight Francesco of what or where?" he muttered to himself. "Bah! Anameless, homeless adventurer; a swashbuckling bully, reeking of bloodand leather, and fit to drive such a pack as Fortemani's. But with alady--what shalt such an oaf attain, how shall he prevail?" He laughedthe incipient jealousy to scorn, and his brow grew clear, for now he wasin an optimistic mood--perhaps a reaction from his recent tremors. "Yet, by the Host!" he pursued, bethinking him of the amazing boldnessFrancesco had shown in the courtyard, "he has the strength of Hercules, and a way with him that makes him feared and obeyed. Pish!" he laughedagain, as, turning, he unhooked his lute from where it hung upon thewall. "The by-blow of some condottiero, who blends with his father'sbullying arrogance the peasant soul of his careless mother. And I fearthat such a one as that shall touch the heart of my peerless Valentina?Why, it is a thought that does her but poor honour. "

And dismissing Francesco from his mind, he sought the strings with hisfingers, and thrummed an accompaniment as he returned to the window, hisvoice, wondrous sweet and tender, breaking into a gentle love-song. 

CHAPTER XV. THE MERCY OF FRANCESCO

Monna Valentina and her ladies dined at noon in a small chamber openingfrom the great hall, and thither were bidden Francesco and Gonzaga. Thecompany was waited upon by the two pages, whilst Fra Domenico, witha snow-white apron girt about his portentous waist, brought up thesteaming viands from the kitchen where he had prepared them; for, likea true conventual, he was something of a master in the confection--and avery glutton in the consumption--of delectable comestibles. The kitchenwas to him as the shrine of some minor cult, and if his breviaryand beads commanded from him the half of the ecstatic fervour of hisdevotions to pot and pan, to cauldron and to spit, then was canonisationindeed assured him. 

He set before them that day a dinner than which a better no princecommanded, unless it were the Pope. There were ortolans, shot in thevalley, done with truffles, that made the epicurean Gonzaga roll hiseyes, translated through the medium of his palate into a very paradiseof sensual delight. There was a hare, trapped on the hillside, andstewed in Malmsey, of a flavour so delicate that Gonzaga was regrettinghim his heavy indulgence in the ortolans; there was trout, fresh caughtin the stream below, and a wondrous pasty that turned liquid in themouth. To wash down these good things there was stout red wine of Pugliaand more delicate Malvasia, for in his provisioning of the fortressGonzaga had contrived that, at least, they should not go thirsty. 

"For a garrison awaiting siege you fare mighty well at Roccaleone, " wasFrancesco's comment on that excellent repast. 

It was the fool who answered him. He sat out of sight upon the floor, hunched against the chair of one of Valentina's ladies, who now andagain would toss him down a morsel from her plate, much as she mighthave treated a favourite hound. 

"You have the friar to thank for it, " said he, in a muffled voice, forhis mouth was crammed with pasty. "Let me be damned when I die, if Imake him not my confessor. The man who can so minister to bodies shoulddeal amazingly well with souls. Fra Domenico, you shall confess me aftersunset. "

"You need me not, " answered the monk, in disdainful wrath. "There is abeatitude for such as you--'Blessed are the poor in spirit. '"

"And is there no curse for such as you?" flashed back the fool. "Does itsay nowhere--'Damned are the gross of flesh, the fat and rotund gluttonswho fashion themselves a god of their own bellies'?"

With his sandalled foot the friar caught the fool a surreptitious kick. 

"Be still, you adder, you bag of venom. "

Fearing worse, the fool gathered himself up. 

"Beware!" he cried shrilly. "Bethink you, friar, that anger is acardinal sin. Beware, I say!"

Fra Domenico checked his upraised hand, and fell to muttering scraps ofLatin, his lids veiling his suddenly down­cast eyes. Thus Peppe gainedthe door. 

"Say, friar; in my ear, now--Was that a hare you stewed, or an outwornsandal?"

"Now, God forgive me, " roared the monk, springing towards him. 

"For your cooking? Aye, pray--on your knees. " He dodged a blow, ducked, and doubled back into the room. "A cook, you? Pish! you tun of conventlard! Your ortolans were burnt, your trout swam in grease, yourpasty----"

What the pasty may have been the company was not to learn, for FraDomenico, crimson of face, had swooped down upon the fool, and wouldhave caught him but that he dived under the table by Valentina's skirts, and craved her protection from this gross maniac that held himself acook. 

"Now, hold your wrath, father, " she said, laughing with the rest. "Hedoes but plague you. Bear with him for the sake of that beautitude youcited, which has fired him to reprisals. "

Mollified, but still grumbling threats of a beating to be bestowed onPeppe when the opportunity should better serve him, the friar turned tohis domestic duties. They rose soon after, and at Gonzaga's suggestionValentina paused in the great hall to issue orders that Fortemani bebrought before her for judgment. In a score of ways, since their comingto Roccaleone, had Ercole been wanting in that respect to which Gonzagaheld himself entitled, and this opportunity he seized with eagerness tovent his vindictive rancour. 

Valentina begged of Francesco that he, too, would stay, and help themwith his wide experience, a phrase that sent an unpleasant pang throughthe heart of Romeo Gonzaga. It was perhaps as much to assert himselfas to gratify his rancour against Fortemani, that, having despatched asoldier to fetch the prisoner, he turned to suggest curtly that Ercoleshould be hanged at once. 

"What boots a trial?" he demanded. "We were all witnesses of hisinsubordination, and for that there can be but one punishment. Let theanimal hang!"

"But the trial is of your own suggestion, " she protested. 

"Nay, Madonna. I but suggested judgment. It is since you have beggedMesser Francesco, here, to assist us that I opine you mean to give theknave a trial. "

"Would you credit this dear Gonzaga with so much bloodthirstiness?" sheasked Francesco. "Do you, sir, share his opinion that the captain shouldhang unheard? I fear me you do, for, from what I have seen of them, yourways do not incline to gentleness. "

Gonzaga smiled, gathering from that sentence how truly she apprised thecoarse nature of this stranger. Francesco's answer surprised them. 

"Nay, I hold Messer Gonzaga's an ill counsel. Show mercy to Fortemaninow, where he expects none, and you will have made a faithful servant ofhim. I know his kind. "

"Ser Francesco speaks without the knowledge that we have, Madonna, "was Gonzaga's rude comment. "An example must be made if we would haverespect and orderliness from these men. "

"Then make it an example of mercy, " suggested Francesco sweetly. 

"Well, we shall see, " was Valentina's answer. "I like your counsel, Messer Francesco, and yet I see a certain wisdom in Gonzaga's words. Though in such a case as this I would sooner consort with folly thanhave a man's death upon my conscience. But here he comes, and, at least, we'll give him trial. Maybe he is penitent by now. "

Gonzaga sneered, and took his place on the right of Valentina's chair, Francesco standing on her left; and in this fashion they disposedthemselves to hold judgment upon the captain of her forces. 

He was brought in between two mailed men-at-arms, his hands pinionedbehind him, his tread heavy as that of a man in fear, his eyes directedsullenly upon the waiting trio, but sullenest of all upon Francesco, whohad so signally encompassed his discomfiture. Valentina spread a handto Gonzaga, and from Gonzaga waved it slightly in the direction of theBully. Responsive to that gesture, Gonzaga faced the pinioned captaintruculently. 

"You know your offence, knave, " he bawled at him. "Have you aught tourge that may deter us from hanging you?"

Fortemani raised his brows a moment in surprise at this ferocity fromone whom he had always deemed a very woman. Then he uttered a laugh ofsuch contempt that the colour sprang to Gonzaga's cheek. 

"Take him out----" he began furiously, when Valentina interposed, setting a hand upon his arm. 

"Nay, nay, Gonzaga, your methods are all wrong. Tell him---- Nay, I willquestion him myself. Messer Fortemani, you have been guilty of an act ofgross abuse. You and your men were hired for me by Messer Gonzaga, andto you was given the honourable office of captain over them, that youmight lead them in this service of mine in the ways of duty, submission, and loyalty. Instead of that, you were the instigator of that outragethis morning, when murder was almost done upon an inoffensive man whowas my guest. What have you to say?"

"That I was not the instigator, " he answered sullenly. 

"It is all one, " she returned, "for at least it was done with yoursanction, and you took a share in that cruel sport, instead ofrestraining it, as was clearly your duty. It is upon you, the captain, that the responsibility rests. "

"Lady, " he explained, "they are wild souls, but very true. "

"True to their wildness, maybe, " she answered him disdainfully. Then sheproceeded: "You will remember that twice before has Messer Gonzaga hadoccasion to admonish you. These last two nights your men have behavedriotously within my walls. There has been hard drinking, there has beendicing, and such brawling once or twice as led me to think there wouldbe throats cut among your ranks. You were warned by Messer Gonzaga tohold your followers in better leash, and yet to-day, without so much asdrunkenness to excuse them, we have this vile affair, with yourself fora ringleader in it. "

There followed a pause, during which Ercole stood with bent head likeone who thinks, and Francesco turned his wonder-laden glance upon thisslight girl with the gentle brown eyes which had been so tender andpitiful. Marvelling at the greatness of her spirit, he grew--allunconsciously--the more enslaved. 

Gonzaga, all unconcerned in this, eyed Fortemani in expectation of hisanswer. 

"Madonna, " said the bully at last, "what can you look for from such atroop as this? Messer Gonzaga cannot have expected me to enlist acolytesfor a business that he told me bordered upon outlawry. Touching theirdrunkenness and the trifle of rioting, what soldiers have not thesefaults? When they have them not, neither have they merit. The man thatis tame in times of peace is a skulking woman in times of war. Forthe rest, whence came the wine they drank? It was of Messer Gonzaga'sproviding. "

"You lie, hound!" blazed Gonzaga. "I provided wine for Madonna's table, not for the men. "

"Yet some found its way to them; which is well. For water on the stomachmakes a man poor-spirited. Where is the sin of a little indulgence, Madonna?" he went on, turning again to Valentina. "These men ofmine will prove their mettle when it comes to blows. They are dogsperhaps--but mastiffs every one of them, and would lose a hundred livesin your service if they had them. "

"Aye, if they had them, " put in Gonzaga sourly; "but having no more thanone apiece, they'll not care to spare it. "

"Nay, there you wrong them, " cried Fortemani, with heat. "Give them aleader strong enough to hold them, to encourage and subject them, andthey will go anywhere at his bidding. "

"And there, " put in Gonzaga quickly, "you bring us back to the mainissue. Such a leader you have shown us that you are not. You have doneworse. You have been insubordinate when you should not only have beenorderly, but have enforced orderliness in others. And for that, by mylights, you should be hanged. Waste no more time on him, Madonna, " heconcluded, turning to Valentina. "Let the example be made. "

"But, Madonna----" began Fortemani, paling under the tan of his ruggedcountenance. 

Gonzaga silenced him. 

"Your words are vain. You have been insubordinate, and forinsubordination there is but one penalty. "

The bully hung his head, deeming himself lost, and lacking the wit toretort as Francesco unexpectedly retorted for him. 

"Madonna, there your adviser is at fault. The charge against the man iswrong. There has been no insubordination. "

"How?" she questioned, turning to the Count. "None, say you?"

"A Solomon is arisen, " sneered Gonzaga. Then peevishly; "Waste not wordswith him, Madonna, " he pursued. "Our business is with Fortemani. "

"But stay, my good Gonzaga. He may be right. "

"Your heart is over-tender, " answered Romeo impatiently. But she hadturned from him now, and was begging Francesco to make his meaningclearer. 

"Had he raised his hand against you, Madonna, or even against MesserGonzaga, or had he disobeyed an order given him by either of you, then, and then only, could there be question of insubordination. But he hasdone none of these things. He is guilty of grossly misusing my servant, it is true, but there is no insubordination in that, since he was underno promise of loyalty to Lanciotto. "

They stared at him as though his words were words of recondite wisdominstead of the simple statement of a plain case. Gonzaga crestfallen, Fortemani with a light of hope and wonder shining in his eyes, andMadonna with a faint nodding of the head that argued agreement. Theywrangled a while yet, Gonzaga bitter and vindictive and rashly scornfulof both Francesco and Fortemani. But the Count so resolutely held theground he had taken that in the end Valentina shrugged her shoulders, acknowledged herself convinced, and bade Francesco deliver judgment. 

"You are in earnest, Madonna?" quoth Francesco in surprise, whilst ablack scowl disfigured the serenity of Gonzaga's brow. 

"I am indeed, Deal with him as you account best and most just, and itshall fare with him precisely as you ordain. "

Francesco turned to the men-at-arms. "Unbind him, one of you, " he saidshortly. 

"I believe that you are mad, " cried Gonzaga, in a frenzy, but his moodsprang rather from the chagrin of seeing his interloper prevail where hehad failed. "Madonna, do not heed him. "

"I pray you let be, my good Gonzaga, " she answered soothingly, andGonzaga, ready to faint from spite, obeyed her. 

"Leave him there, and go, " was Paolo's next order to the men, and theydeparted, leaving the astonished Fortemani standing alone, unbound andsheepish. 

"Now mark me well, Messer Fortemani, " Francesco admonished him. "Youdid a cowardly thing, unworthy of the soldier that you would have menbelieve you. And for that, I think, the punishment you received at myhands has been sufficient, in that the indignity to which I submittedyou has shaken your standing with your followers. Go back to them nowand retrieve what you have lost, and see that in the future you areworthier. Let this be a lesson to you, Messer Fortemani. You have goneperilously near hanging, and you have had it proved to you that inmoments of peril your men are ready to raise their hands against you. Why is that? Because you have not sought their respect. You have beentoo much a fellow of theirs in their drinking and their brawling, instead of holding yourself aloof with dignity. "

"Lord, I have learnt my lesson!" answered the cowed bully. 

"Then act upon it. Resume your command, and discipline your men to abetter order. Madonna, here, and Messer Gonzaga will forget this thing. Is it not so, Madonna? Is it not so, Messer Gonzaga?"

Swayed by his will and by an intuition that told her that to whateverend he might be working, he was working wisely, Valentina gave Fortemanithe assurance Francesco begged, and Gonzaga was forced grudgingly tofollow her example. 

Fortemani bowed low, his face pale and his limbs trembling as not evenfear had made them tremble. He advanced towards Valentina, and sinkingon one knee, he humbly kissed the hem of her gown. 

"Your clemency, Madonna, shall give you no regret. I will serve you tothe death, lady, and you, lord. " At the last words he raised his eyesto Francesco's calm face. Then, without so much as a glance at thedisappointed Gonzaga, he rose, and bowing again--a very courtier--hewithdrew. 

The closing of the door was to Gonzaga a signal to break out in atorrent of bitter reproofs against Francesco, reproofs that were stemmedmidway by Valentina. 

"You are beside yourself, Gonzaga, " she exclaimed. "What has been done, has been done with my sanction. I do not doubt the wisdom of it. "

"Do you not? God send you never may! But that man will know no peaceuntil he is avenged on us. "

"Messer Gonzaga, " returned Francesco, with an incomparable politeness, "I am an older man than are you, and maybe that I have seen more warringand more of such men. There is a certain valour lurks in that bullyfor all his blustering boastfulness and swagger, and there is, too, acertain sense of justice. Mercy he has had to-day, and time will showhow right I am in having pardoned him in Madonna's name. I tell you, sir, that nowhere has Monna Valentina a more faithful servant than he isnow likely to become. "

"I believe you, Messer Francesco. Indeed, I am sure your act was wisdomitself. "

Gonzaga gnawed his lip. 

"I may be wrong, " said he, in grudging acquiescence. "I hope, indeed, Imay be. "

CHAPTER XVI. GONZAGA UNMASKS

The four great outer walls of Roccaleone stood ranged into a mightysquare, of which the castle proper occupied but half. The other half, running from north to south, was a stretch of garden, broken into threeterraces. The highest of these was no more than a narrow alley underthe southern wall, roofed from end to end by a trellis of vines on beamsblackened with age, supported by uprights of granite, square and roughlyhewn. 

A steep flight of granite steps, weedy in the interstices of the oldstone, and terminating in a pair of couchant lions at the base, led downto the middle terrace, which was called the upper garden. This was splitin twain by a very gallery of gigantic box trees running down towardsthe lower terrace, and bearing eloquent witness to the age of that oldgarden. Into this gallery no sun ever penetrated by more than a furtiveray, and on the hottest day in summer a grateful cool dwelt in its greengloom. Rose gardens spread on either side of it, but neglect of late hadleft them rank with weeds. 

The third and lowest of these terraces, which was longer and broaderthan either of those above, was no more than a smooth stretch of lawn, bordered by acacias and plane trees, from the extreme corner of whichsprang a winding, iron-railed staircase of stone, leading to an eeriewhich corresponded diagonally with the Lion's Tower, where the Count ofAquila was lodged. 

On this green lawn Valentina's ladies and a page beguiled the eventidein a game of bowls, their clumsiness at the unwonted pastime provokingthe good-humoured banter of Peppe, who looked on, and their own stillbetter-humoured laughter. 

Fortemani, too, was there, brazening out the morning's affair, which italmost seemed he must have forgotten, so self-possessed and mightily athis ease was he. He was of the kind with whom shame strikes never verydeeply, and he ruffled it gaily there, among the women, rolling hisfierce eyes to ogle them seductively, tossing his gaudy new cloak witha high-born disdain--gloriously conscious that it would not rend inthe tossing, like the cloaks to which grim Circumstance had latelyaccustomed him--and strutting it like any cock upon a dunghill. 

But the lesson he had learnt was not likely to share the sameforgetfulness. Indeed, its fruits were to be observed already in themore orderly conduct of his men, four of whom, partisan on shoulder, were doing duty on the walls of the castle. They had greeted his returnamongst them with sneers and derisive allusions to his immersion, butwith a few choicely-aimed blows he had cuffed the noisiest into silenceand a more subservient humour. He had spoken to them in a rasping, truculent tone, issuing orders that he meant should be obeyed, unlessthe disobeyer were eager for a reckoning with him. 

Indeed, he was an altered man, and when that night his followers, havingdrunk what he accounted enough for their good, and disregarding hisorders that they should desist and get them to bed, he went in questof Monna Valentina. He found her in conversation with Francesco andGonzaga, seated in the loggia of the dining-room. They had been theresince supper, discussing the wisdom of going or remaining, of fleeingor standing firm to receive Gian Maria. Their conference was interruptednow by Ercole with his complaint. 

She despatched Gonzaga to quell the men, a course that Fortemanitreated to a covert sneer. The fop went rejoicing at this proof thather estimate of his commanding qualities had nowise suffered by contrastwith those of that swashbuckling Francesco. But his pride rode him to abitter fall. 

They made a mock of his remonstrances, and when he emulated Francesco'smethods, addressing them with sharp ferocity, and dubbing them beastsand swine, they caught the false ring of his fierceness, which wasas unlike the true as the ring of lead is unlike that of silver. Theyjeered him insults, they mimicked his tenor voice, which excitementhad rendered shrill, and they bade him go thrum a lute for his lady'sdelectation, and leave men's work to men. 

His anger rose, and they lost patience; and from showing their teethin laughter, they began to show them in snarls. At this his ferocitydeserted him. Brushing past Fortemani, who stood cold and contemptuousby the doorway, watching the failure he had expected, he returned withburning cheeks and bitter words to Madonna Valentina. 

She was dismayed at the tale he bore her, magnified to cover his ownshame. Francesco sat quietly drumming on the sill, his eyes upon themoonlit garden below, and never by word or sign suggesting that he mightsucceed where Romeo had failed. At last she turned to him. 

"Could you----?" she began, and stopped, her eyes wandering back toGonzaga, loath to further wound a pride that was very sore already. Onthe instant Francesco rose. 

"I might try, Madonna, " he said quietly, "although Messer Gonzaga'sfailure gives me little hope. And yet, it may be that he has taken thekeen edge from their assurance, and that, thus, an easier task awaitsme. I will try, Madonna. " And with that he went. 

"He will succeed, Gonzaga, " she said, after he had gone. "He is a man ofwar, and knows the words to which these fellows have no answer. "

"I wish him well of his errand, " sneered Gonzaga, his pretty face whitenow with sullenness. "And I'll wager you he fails. "

But Valentina disdained the offer whose rashness was more thanproven when, at the end of some ten minutes, Francesco re-entered, asimperturbable as when he went. 

"They are quiet now, Madonna, " he announced. 

She looked at him questioningly. "How did you accomplish it?" sheinquired. 

"I had a little difficulty, " he said, "yet not over-much. " His eye rovedto Gonzaga, and he smiled. "Messer Gonzaga is too gentle with them. Tootrue a courtier to avail himself of the brutality that is necessarywhen we deal with brutes. You should not disdain to use your hands uponthem, " he admonished the fop in all seriousness, and without a trace ofirony. Nor did Gonzaga suspect any. 

"I, soil my hands on that vermin?" he cried, in a voice of horror. "Iwould die sooner. "

"Or else soon after, " squeaked Peppe, who had entered unobserved. "Patrona mia, you should have seen this paladin, " he continued, comingforward. "Why, Orlando was never half so furious as he when he stoodthere telling them what manner of dirt they were, and bidding them tobed ere he drove them with a broomstick. "

"And they went?" she asked. 

"Not at first, " said the fool. "They had drunk enough to make them verybrave, and one who was very drunk was so brave as to assault him. ButSer Francesco fells him with his hands, and calling Fortemani he bidshim have the man dropped in a dungeon to grow sober. Then, withoutwaiting so much as to see his orders carried out, he stalks away, assured that no more was needed. Nor was it. They rose up, mutteringa curse or two, maybe--yet not so loud that it might reach the ears ofFortemani--and got themselves to bed. "

She looked again at Francesco with admiring eyes, and spoke of hisaudacity in commending terms. This he belittled; but she persisted. 

"You have seen much warring, sir, " she half-asked, half­asserted. 

"Why, yes, Madonna. "

And here the writhing Gonzaga espied his opportunity. 

"I do not call to mind your name, good sir, " he purred. 

Francesco half-turned towards him, and for all that his mind was workingwith a lightning quickness, his face was indolently calm. To disclosehis true identity he deemed unwise, for all connected with the Sforzabrood must earn mistrust at the hands of Valentina. It was known thatthe Count of Aquila stood high in the favour of Gian Maria, and the newsof his sudden fall and banishment could not have reached Guidobaldo'sniece, who had fled before the knowledge of it was in Urbino. His namewould awaken suspicion, and any story of disgrace and banishment mightbe accounted the very mask to fit a spy. There was this sleek, venomousGonzaga, whom she trusted and relied on, to whisper insidiously into herear. 

"My name, " he said serenely, "is, as I have told you. Francesco. "

"But you have another?" quoth Valentina, interest prompting thequestion. 

"Why, yes, but so closely allied to the first as to be scarce worthreciting. I am Francesco Franceschi, a wandering knight. "

"And a true one, as I know. " She smiled at him so sweetly that Gonzagawas enraged. 

"I have not heard the name before, " he murmured, adding:

"Your father was----?"

"A gentleman of Tuscany. "

"But not at Court?" suggested Romeo. 

"Why, yes, at Court. "

Then with a sly insolence that brought the blood to Francesco's cheeks, though to the chaste mind of Valentina's it meant nothing--"Ah!" herejoined. "But then, your mother----?"

"Was more discriminating, sir, than yours, " came the sharp answer, andfrom the shadows the fool's smothered burst of laughter added gall toit. 

Gonzaga rose heavily, drawing a sharp breath, and the two men stabbedeach other with their eyes. Valentina, uncomprehending, looked from oneto the other. 

"Sirs, sirs, what have you said?" she cried. "Why all this war oflooks?"

"He is over-quick to take offence, Madonna, for an honest man, " wasGonzaga's answer. "Like the snake in the grass, he is very ready withhis sting when we seek to disclose him. "

"For shame, Gonzaga, " she cried, now rising too. "What are you saying?Are you turned witless? Come, sirs, since you are both my friends, befriends each with the other. "

"Most perfect syllogism!" murmured the fool, unheeded. 

"And you, Messer Francesco, forget his words. He means them not. He isvery hot of fancy, but sweet at heart, this good Gonzaga. "

On the instant the cloud lifted from Francesco's brow. 

"Why, since you ask me, " he answered, inclining his head, "if he'll butsay he meant no malice by his words, I will confess as much for mine. "

Gonzaga, cooling, saw that haply he had gone too fast, and was thereadier to make amends. Yet in his bosom he nursed an added store ofpoison, a breath of which escaped him as he was leaving Valentina, andafter Francesco had already gone:

"Madonna, " he muttered, "I mistrust that man. "

"Mistrust him? Why?" she asked, frowning despite her faith in themagnificent Romeo. 

"I know not why; but it is here. I feel it. " And with his hand hetouched the region of his heart. "Say that he is no spy, and call me afool. "

"Why, I'll do both, " she laughed. Then more sternly, added: "Get you tobed, Gonzaga. Your wits play you false. Peppino, call my ladies. "

In the moment that they were left alone he stepped close up to her, spurred to madness by the jealous pangs he had that day endured. Hisface gleamed white in the candlelight, and in his eyes there was alurking fierceness that gave her pause. 

"Have your way, Madonna, " he said, in a concentrated voice; "butto-morrow, whether we go hence, or whether we stay, he remains not withus. "

She drew herself up to the full of her slender, graceful height, hereyes on a level with Gonzaga's own. 

"That, " she answered, "is as shall be decreed by me or him. "

He breathed sharply, and his voice hardened beyond belief in one usuallyso gentle of tone and manner. 

"Be warned, Madonna, " he muttered, coming so close that with theslightest swaying she must touch him, "that if this nameless sbirroshall ever dare to stand 'twixt you and me, by God and His saints, I'llkill him! Be warned, I say. "

And the door re-opening at that moment, he fell back, bowed, andbrushing past the entering ladies, gained the threshold. Here someonetugged at the prodigious foliated sleeves that spread beside him on theair like the wings of a bird. He turned, and saw Peppino motioning himto lower his head. 

"A word in your ear, Magnificent. There was a man once went out for woolthat came back shorn. "

Angrily cuffing the fool aside, he was gone. 

Valentina sank down upon her window-seat, in a turmoil of mingled angerand amazement that paled her cheek and set her bosom heaving. It was thefirst hint of his aims respecting her that Gonzaga had ever dared letfall, and the condition in which it left her boded ill for his ultimatesuccess. Her anger he could have borne, had he beheld it, for he wouldhave laid it to the score of the tone he had taken with her. But herincredulity that he could indeed have dared to mean that which hersenses told her he had meant, would have shown him how hopeless was hiscase and how affronted, how outraged in soul she had been left by thismoment of passionate self-revealing. He would have understood thenthat in her eyes he never had been, was never like to be, aught but aservant--and one, hereafter, that, deeming presumptuous, she would keepat greater distance. 

But he, dreaming little of this as he paced his chamber, smiled at histhoughts, which flowed with ready optimism. He had been a fool to giveway so soon, perhaps. The season was not yet; the fruit was not ripeenough for plucking; still, what should it signify that he had giventhe tree a slight premonitory shake? A little premature, perhaps, butit would predispose the fruit to fall. He bethought him of hernever-varying kindness to him, her fond gentleness, and he lacked thewit to see that this was no more than the natural sweetness that flowedfrom her as freely as flows the perfume from the flower--because Naturehas so fashioned it, and not because Messer Gonzaga likes the smell. Lacking that wit, he went in blissful confidence to bed, and smiledhimself softly to his sleep. 

Away in the room under the Lion's Tower, the Count of Aquila, too, pacedhis chamber ere he sought his couch, and in his pacing caught sightof something that arrested his attention, and provoked a smile. In acorner, among his harness which Lanciotto had piled there, his shieldthrew back the light, displaying the Sforza lion quartered with theAquila eagle. 

"Did my sweet Gonzaga get a glimpse of that he would have no furtherneed to pry into my parentage, " he mused. And dragging the escutcheonfrom amongst that heap of armour, he softly opened his window and flungit far out, so that it dropped with a splash into the moat. That done, he went to bed, and he, too, fell asleep with a smile upon his lips, and in his mind a floating vision of Valentina. She needed a strong andready hand to guide her in this rebellion against the love-at-arms ofGian Maria, and that hand he swore should be his, unless she scornedthe offer of it. And so, murmuring her name with a lingering fervour, ofwhose true significance he was all-nescient, he sank to sleep, norwaked again until a thundering at his door aroused him. And to his stilldormant senses came the voice of Lanciotto, laden with hurry and alarm. 

"Awake, lord! Up, afoot! We are beset. "

CHAPTER XVII. THE ENEMY

The Count leapt from his bed, and hastened to throw wide the door toadmit his servant, who with excited face and voice bore him the newsthat Gian Maria had reached Roccaleone in the night, and was nowencamped in the plain before the castle. 

He was still at his tale when a page came with the message that MonnaValentina besought Messer Francesco's presence in the great hall. He dressed in all haste, and then, with Lanciotto at his heels, hedescended to answer her summons. As he crossed the second courtyardhe beheld Valentina's ladies grouped upon the chapel-steps in exciteddiscussion of this happening with Fra Domenico, who, in full canonicals, was waiting to say the morning's Mass. He gave them a courteous "Goodmorrow, " and passed on to the banqueting-hall, leaving Lanciottowithout. 

Here he found Valentina in conference with Fortemani. She was pacingthe great room as she talked; but, beyond that, there was no sign ofexcitement in her bearing, and if any fear of the issue touched herheart now that the moment for action was at hand, it was wondrouslywell-suppressed. At sight of Francesco, a look that was partly dismayand partly pleasure lighted her face. She greeted him with such a smileas she would bestow in that hour upon none but a trusted friend. Then, with a look of regret:

"I am beyond measure grieved, sir, that you should thus stand committedto my fortunes. They will have told you that already we are besieged, and so you will see how your fate is now bound up with ours. For I fearme there is no road hence for you until Gian Maria raises this siege. The choice of going or remaining is no longer mine. We must remain, andfight this battle out. "

"At least, lady, " he answered readily, gaily almost, "I cannot shareyour regrets for me. The act of yours may be a madness, Madonna, but itis the bravest, sweetest madness that ever was, and I shall be proud toplay my part if you'll assign me one. "

"But, sir, I have no claim upon you!"

"The claim that every beset lady has upon a true knight, " he assuredher. "I could ask no better employment for these arms of mine than inyour defence against the Duke of Babbiano. I am at your service, andwith a glad heart, Monna Valentina. I have seem something of war, andyou may find me useful. "

"Make him Provost of Roccaleone, Madonna, " urged Fortemani, whosegratitude to the man who had saved his life was blent with an admiringappreciation of his powers, of which the bully had had such practicalexperience. 

"You hear what Ercole says?" she cried, turning to Francesco with asudden eagerness that showed how welcome that suggestion was. 

"It were too great an honour, " he answered solemnly. "Yet, if you wereto place in my hands that trust, I would defend it to my last breath. "

And then, before she could answer him, Gonzaga entered by the side-door, and frowned to see Francesco there before him. He was a trifle pale, he carried his cloak on the right shoulder, instead of the left, and ingeneral his apparel was less meticulous than usual, and showed signs ofhasty donning. With a curt nod to the Count, and an utter ignoring ofFortemani--who was scowling upon him in memory of yesterday--he bowedlow before Valentina. 

"I am distraught, Madonna----" he began, when she cut him short. 

"You have little cause to be. Have things fallen out other than weexpected?"

"Perhaps not. Yet I had hoped that Gian Maria would not allow his humourto carry him so far. "

"You had hoped that--after the message Messer Francesco brought us?"And she looked him over with an eye of sudden understanding. "Yet youexpressed no such hope when you advised this flight to Roccaleone. Youwere all for fighting then. A martial ardour consumed you. Whence thischange? Is it the imminence of danger that gives it a reality too grimfor your appetite?"

There was a scorn in her words that wounded him as she meant it should. His last night's rashness had shown her the need to leave him in nofalse opinion of the extent of her esteem, and, in addition, those lastwords of his had shown him revealed in a new light, and she liked himthe less by it. 

He inclined his head slightly, shame blazing red in his cheeks, thathe should be thus reproved before Fortemani and that upstart Francesco. That Francesco was an upstart was no longer a matter of surmise withhim. His soul assured him of it. 

"Madonna, " he said, with some show of dignity, ignoring her gibes, "Icame to bear you news that a herald from Gian Maria craves a hearing. Shall I hold parley with him for you?"

"You are too good, " she answered sweetly. "I will hear the man myself. "

He bowed submissively, and then his eye moved to Francesco. 

"We might arrange with him for the safe-conduct of this gentleman, " hesuggested. 

"There is no hope they would accord it, " she answered easily. "Nor couldI hope so if they would, for Messer Francesco has consented to fillthe office of Provost of Roccaleone. But we are keeping the messengerwaiting. Sirs, will you attend me to the ramparts?"

They bowed, and followed her, Gonzaga coming last, his tread heavy as adrunkard's, his face white to the lips in the bitter rage with which hesaw himself superseded, and read his answer to the hot words that lastnight he had whispered in Valentina's ear. 

As they crossed the courtyard Francesco discharged the first act of hisnew office in ordering a half-dozen men-at-arms to fall in behind them, to the end that they might make some show upon the wall when they cameto parley with the herald. 

They found a tall man on a tall, grey horse, whose polished helm shonelike silver in the morning sun, and whose haubergeon was almost hiddenunder a crimson tabard ornamented with the Sforza lion. He bowed low asValentina appeared, followed by her escort, foremost in which stood theCount of Aquila, his broad castor pulled down upon his brow, so that itleft his face in shadow. 

"In the name of my master, the High and Mighty Lord Gian Maria Sforza, Duke of Babbiano, I call upon you to yield, lady, laying down your armsand throwing open your gates. "

There followed a pause, at the end of which she asked him was that thesum of his message, or was there something that he had forgotten. The herald, bowing gracefully upon the arched neck of his caracolingpalfrey, answered her that what he had said was all he had been biddensay. 

She turned with a bewildered and rather helpless look to those behindher. She wished that the matter might be conducted with due dignity, and her convent rearing left her in doubt of how this might best beachieved. She addressed herself to Francesco. 

"Will you give him his answer, my Lord Provost, " she said, with asmile, and Francesco, stepping forward and leaning on a merlon of thatembattled wall, obeyed her. 

"Sir Herald, " he said, in a gruff voice that was unlike his own, "willyou tell me since when has the Duke of Babbiano been at war withUrbino that he should thus beset one of its fortresses, and demand thesurrender of it?"

"His Highness, " replied the herald, "is acting with the full sanction ofthe Duke of Urbino in sending this message to the Lady Valentina dellaRovere. "

At that Valentina elbowed the Count aside, and forgetting her purpose ofconducting this affair with dignity, she let her woman's tongue deliverthe answer of her heart. 

"This message, sir, and the presence here of your master, is but anotherof the impertinences that I have suffered at his hands, and it is thecrowning one. Take you that message back to him, and tell him that whenI am instructed by what right he dares to send you upon such an errand, I may render him an answer more germane with his challenge. "

"Would you prefer, Madonna, that his Highness should come himself tospeak with you?"

"There is nothing I should prefer less. Already has necessity compelledme to have more to say to Gian Maria than I could have wished. " Andwith a proud gesture she signified that the audience was at an end, andturned to quit the wall. 

She had a brief conference with Francesco, during which he consulted heras to certain measures of defence to be taken, and made suggestions, to all of which she agreed, her hopes rising fast to see that here, atleast, she had a man with knowledge of the work to which he had set hishand. It lightened her heart and gave her a glad confidence to look onthat straight, martial figure, the hand so familiarly resting on thehilt of the sword that seemed a part of him, and the eyes so calm;whilst when he spoke of perils, they seemed to dwindle 'neath thedisdain of them so manifest in his tone. 

With Fortemani at his heels he went about the execution of the measureshe had suggested, the bully following him now with the faithful wonderof a dog for its master, realising that here, indeed, was a soldier offortune by comparison with whom the likes of himself were no better thancamp-followers. Confidence, too, did Ercole gather from that magnetismof Francesco's unfaltering confidence; for he seemed to treat the matteras a great jest, a comedy played for the Duke of Babbiano and atthat same Duke's expense. And just as Francesco's brisk tone breathedconfidence into Fortemani and Valentina, so, too, did it breathe it intoFortemani's wretched followers. They grew zestful in the reflection ofhis zest, and out of admiration for him they came to admire the businesson which they were engaged, and, finally, to take a pride in the part heassigned to each of them. Within an hour there was such diligentbustle in Roccaleone, such an air of grim gaiety and high spirits, thatValentina, observing it, wondered what manner of magician was this shehad raised to the command of her fortress, who in so little time couldwork so marvellous a change in the demeanour of her garrison. 

Once only did Francesco's light-heartedness fail him, and this was when, upon visiting the armoury, he found but one single cask of gunpowderstored there. He turned to Fortemani to inquire where Gonzaga hadbestowed it, and Fortemani being as ignorant as himself upon the subjecthe went forthwith in quest of Gonzaga. After ransacking the castlefor him, he found him pacing the vine-alley in the garden in animatedconversation with Valentina. At his approach the courtier's manner grewmore subdued, and his brows sullen. 

"Messer Gonzaga, " Francesco hailed him. The courtier, surprised, lookedup. "Where have you hidden your store of powder?"

"Powder?" faltered Gonzaga, chilled by a sudden apprehension. "Is therenone in the armoury?"

"Yes--one small cask, enough to load a cannon once or twice, leaving usnothing for our hand-guns. Is that your store?"

"If that is all there is in the armoury, that is all we have. "

Franceseo stood speechless, staring at him, a dull flush creeping intohis cheeks. In that moment of wrath he forgot their positions, and gavenever a thought to the smarting that must be with Gonzaga at the loss ofrank he had suffered since Valentina had appointed a provost. 

"And are these your methods of fortifying Roccaleone?" he asked, in avoice that cut like a knife. "You have laid in good store of wine, aflock of sheep, and endless delicacies, sir, " he jeered. "Did you expectto pelt the enemy with these, or did you reckon upon no enemy at all?"

Now this question touched so closely upon the truth, that it fired inGonzaga's bosom an anger that for the moment made a man of him. It wasthe last breath that blew into a blaze the smouldering wrath he carriedin his soul. 

His retort came fierce and hot. It was as unmeasured and contemptuous asFrancesco's erst recriminations, and it terminated in a challenge tothe Count to meet him on horse or foot, with sword or lance, and that assoon as might be. 

But Valentina intervened, and rebuked them both. Yet to Francesco herrebuke was courteous, and ended in a prayer that he should do thebest with such resources as Roccaleone offered; to Gonzaga it wascontemptuous in the last degree, for Francesco's question--which Gonzagahad left unanswered--coming at a moment when she was full of suspicionsof Gonzaga, and the ends he had sought to serve in advising her upon acourse which he had since shown himself so utterly unfitted to guide, had opened wide her eyes. She remembered how strangely moved he had beenupon learning yesterday that Gian Maria was marching upon Roccaleone, and how ardently he had advised flight from the fortress--he that had sobravely talked of holding it against the Duke. 

They were still wrangling there in a most unseemly fashion when atrumpet-blast reached them from beyond the walls. 

"The herald again, " she cried. "Come, Messer Francesco, let us hear whatfresh message he brings. "

She led Francesco away, leaving Gonzaga in the shadow of the vines, reduced well-nigh to tears in the extremity of his mortification. 

The herald was returned with the announcement that Valentina's answerleft Gian Maria no alternative but to await the arrival of DukeGuidobaldo, who was then marching to join him. The Duke of Urbino'spresence would be, he thought, ample justification in her eyes for thechallenge Gian Maria had sent, and which he would send again when heruncle arrived to confirm it. 

Thereafter, the remainder of the day was passed in peace at Roccaleone, if we except the very hell of unrest that surged in the heart of RomeoGonzaga. He sat disregarded at supper that evening, save by Valentina'sladies and the fool, who occasionally rallied him upon his glumness. Valentina herself turned her whole attention to the Count, and whilstGonzaga--Gonzaga, the poet of burning fancy, the gay songster, theacknowledged wit, the mirror of courtliness--was silent andtongue-tied, this ruffling, upstart swashbuckler entertained them witha sprightliness that won him every heart--always excepting that of RomeoGonzaga. 

Francesco made light of the siege in a manner that enlivened every soulpresent with relief. He grew merry at the expense of Gian Maria, andmade it very plain that he could have found naught more captivating tohis warlike fancy than this business upon which an accident had embarkedhim. He was as full of confidence for the issue as he was full of eageranticipation of the fray itself. 

Is it wonderful that--never having known any but artificial men; men ofcourt and ante-chamber; men of dainty ways and mincing, affected tricksof speech; in short, such men as circumstance ordains shall surroundthe great--Monna Valentina's eyes should open very wide, the better tobehold this new pattern of a man, who, whilst clearly a gentlemanof high degree, carried with him an air of the camp rather than thecamerion, was imbued by a spirit of chivalry and adventure, and ignoredwith a certain lofty dignity, as if beneath his observance, the posesthat she was wont to see characterising the demeanour of the gentlemenof his Highness, her uncle. 

He was young, moreover, yet no longer callow; comely, yet with a strongmale comeliness; he had a pleasantly modulated voice, yet one thatthey had heard swell into a compelling note of command; he had the mostjoyous, careless laugh in all the world--such a laugh as endears a manto all that hear it--and he indulged it without stint. 

Gonzaga sat glum and moody, his heart bursting with the resentment ofthe mean and the incompetent for the man of brilliant parts. But themorrow was to bring him worse. 

The Duke of Urbino arrived next morning, and rode up to the moat inperson, attended only by a trumpeter, who, for the third time, wound anote of challenge to the fortress. 

As on the previous day, Valentina answered the summons, attended byFrancesco, Fortemani and Gonzaga--the latter uninvited yet not denied, and following sullenly in her train, in a last, despairing attempt toassert himself one of her captains. 

Francesco had put on his harness, and came arrayed from head to footin resplendent steel, to do worthy honour to the occasion. A bunch ofplumes nodded in his helm, and for all that his beaver was open, yetthe shadows of the head-piece afforded at the distance sufficientconcealment to his features. 

The sight of her uncle left Valentina unmoved. Well-beloved though hewas of his people, between himself and his niece he had made no effortever to establish relations of affection. Less than ever did he now seekto prevail by the voice of kinship. He came in the panoply of war, asa prince to a rebel subject, and in precisely such a tone did he greether. 

"Monna Valentina, " he said--seeming entirely to overlook thecircumstance that she was his kinswoman--"deeply though this rebelliongrieves me, you are not to think that your sex shall gain you anyprivileges or any clemency. We will treat you precisely as we would anyother rebel subject who acted as you have done. "

"Highness, " she replied, "I solicit no privilege beyond that to which mysex gives me the absolute right, and which has no concern with war andarms. I allude to the privilege of disposing of myself, my hand andheart, as it shall please me. Until you come to recognise that I am awoman endowed with a woman's nature, and until, having realised it, youare prepared to submit to it, and pass me your princely word to urge theDuke of Babbiano's suit no further with me, here will I stay in spiteof you, your men-at-arms, and your paltry ally, Gian Maria, who imaginesthat love may be made successfully in armour, and that a way to awoman's heart is to be opened with cannon-shot. "

"I think we shall bring you to a more subjective and dutiful frame ofmind, Madonna, " was the grim answer. 

"Dutiful to whom?"

"To the State, a princess of which you have had the honour to be born. "

"And what of my duty to myself, to my heart, and to my womanhood? Is noaccount to be taken of that?"

"These are matters, Madonna, that are not to be discussed in shouts fromthe walls of a castle--nor, indeed, do I wish to discuss them anywhere. I am here to summon you to surrender. If you resist us, you do so atyour peril. "

"Then at my peril I will resist you--gladly. I defy you. Do your worstagainst me, disgrace your manhood and the very name of chivalry bywhatsoever violence may occur to you, yet I promise you that Valentinadella Rovere never shall become the wife of his Highness of Babbiano. "

"You refuse to open your gates?" he returned, in a voice that shook withanger. 

"Utterly and finally. "

"And you think to persist in this?"

"As long as I have life. "

The Prince laughed sardonically. 

"I wash my hands of the affair and of its consequences, " he answeredgrimly. "I leave it in the care of your future husband, Gian MariaSforza, and if, in his very natural eagerness for the nuptials, he usesyour castle roughly, the blame of it must rest with you. But what hedoes, he does with my full sanction, and I have come hither to adviseyou of it since you appeared in doubt. I beg that you will remain therefor a few moments, to hear what his Highness himself may have to say. Itrust his eloquence may prove more persuasive. "

He saluted ceremoniously, and, wheeling his horse about, he rode away. Valentina would have withdrawn, but Francesco urged her to remain, andawait the Duke of Babbiano's coming. And so they paced the battlements, Valentina in earnest talk with Francesco, Gonzaga following in moodysilence with Fortemani, and devouring them with his eyes. 

From their eminence they surveyed the bustling camp in the plain, where tents, green, brown, and white, were being hastily erected byhalf-stripped soldiers. The little army altogether, may have numbereda hundred men, which, in his vainglory, Gian Maria accounted all thatwould be needed to reduce Roccaleone. But the most formidable portion ofhis forces rolled into the field even as they watched. It was heraldedby a hoarse groaning of the wheels of bullock-carts to the number often, on each of which was borne a cannon. Other carts followed withammunition and victuals for the men encamped. 

They looked on with interest at the busy scene that was toward, and asthey watched they saw Guidobaldo ride into the heart of the camp, anddismount. Then from out of a tent more roomy and imposing than the restadvanced the short, stout figure of Gian Maria, not to be recognised atthat distance save by the keen eyes of Francesco that were familiar withhis shape. 

A groom held a horse for him and assisted him to mount, and then, attended by the same trumpeter that had escorted Guidobaldo, he rodeforward towards the castle. At the edge of the moat he halted, and atsight of Valentina and her company, he doffed his feathered hat, andbowed his straw-coloured head. 

"Monna Valentina, " he called, and when she stepped forth in answer, heraised his little, cruel eyes in a malicious glance and showed theround moon of his white face to be whiter even, than its wont--a palloratrabilious and almost green. 

"I am grieved that his Highness, your uncle, should not have prevailedwith you. Where he has failed, I may have little hope of succeeding--bythe persuasion of words. Yet I would beg you to allow me to have speechof your captain, whoever he may be. "

"My captains are here in attendance, " she answered tranquilly. 

"So! You have a plurality of them; to command--how many men?"

"Enough, " roared Francesco, interposing, his voice sounding hollowfrom his helmet, "to blow you and your woman besieging scullions toperdition. "

The Duke stirred on his horse, and peered up at the speaker. But therewas too little of his face visible for recognition, whilst his voice wasaltered and his figure dissembled in its steel casing. 

"Who are you, rogue?" he asked. 

"Rogue in your teeth, be you twenty times a Duke, " returned the other, at which Valentina laughed outright. 

Never from the day when he had uttered his first wail had his Highnessof Babbiano heard words of such import from the lips of living man. Apurple flush mottled his cheeks at the indignity of it. 

"Attend to me, knave!" he bellowed. "Whatever betide the rest of thismisguided garrison when ultimately it falls into my hands, for you I canpromise a rope and a cross-beam. "

"Bah!" sneered the knight. "First catch your bird. Be none so sure thatRoccaleone ever will fall into your hands. While I live you do not enterhere, and my life, Highness, is for me a precious thing, which I'll notpart with lightly. "

Valentina's eyes were mirthless now as she turned them upon thatgleaming, martial figure standing so proudly at her side, and seemingso well-attuned to the proud defiance he hurled at the princely bullybelow. 

"Hush, sir!" she murmured. "Do not anger him further. "

"Aye, " groaned Gonzaga, "in God's name say no more, or you'll undo ushopelessly. "

"Madonna, " said the Duke, without further heeding Francesco, "I give youtwenty-four hours in which to resolve upon your action. Yonder you seethem bringing the cannon into camp. When you wake to-morrow you shallfind those guns trained upon your walls. Meanwhile, enough said. May Ispeak a word with Messer Gonzaga ere I depart. "

"So that you depart, you may say a word to whom you will, " she answeredcontemptuously. And, turning aside, she motioned Gonzaga to the crenelshe abandoned. 

"I'll swear that mincing jester is trembling already with the fear ofwhat is to come, " bawled the Duke, "and perhaps fear will show him theway to reason. Messer Gonzaga!" he called, raising his voice. "As Ibelieve the men of Roccaleone are in your service, I call upon you tobid them throw down that drawbridge, and in the name of Guidobaldo aswell as my own, I promise them free pardon and no hurt--saving only thatrascal at your side. But if your knaves resist me, I promise you thatwhen I shall have dashed Roccaleone stone from stone, not a man of youall will I spare. "

Shaking like an aspen Gonzaga stood there, his voice palsied and makingno reply, whereupon Francesco leant forward again. 

"We have heard your terms, " he answered, "and we are not like to heedthem. Waste not the day in vain threats. "

"Sir, my terms were not for you. I know you not; I addressed you not, nor will I suffer myself to be addressed by you. "

"Linger there another moment, " answered the vibrating voice ofthe knight, "and you will find yourself addressed with a volley ofarquebuse-shot. Olį, there!" he commanded, turning and addressing animaginary body of men on the lower ramparts of the garden, to his left. "Arquebusiers to the postern! Blow your matches! Make ready! Now, myLord Duke, will you draw off, or must we blow you off?"

The Duke's reply took the form of a bunch of blasphemous threats of howhe would serve his interlocutor when he came to set hands on him. 

"Present arms!" roared the knight to his imaginary arquebusiers, whereupon, without another word, the Duke turned his horse and rodeoff in disgraceful haste, his trumpeter following hot upon his heels, pursued by a derisive burst of laughter from Francesco. 

CHAPTER XVIII. TREACHERY

"Sir, " gulped Gonzaga, as they were descending from the battlements, "you will end by having us all hanged. Was that a way to address aprince?"

Valentina frowned that he should dare rebuke her knight. But Francescoonly laughed. 

"By St. Paul! How would you have had me address him?" he inquired. "Would you have had me use cajolery with him--the lout? Would youhave had me plead mercy from him, and beg him, in honeyed words, to bepatient with a wilful lady? Let be, Messer Gonzaga, we shall weather ityet, never doubt it. "

"Messer Gonzaga's courage seems of a quality that wanes as the need forit increases, " said Valentina. 

"You are confounding courage, Madonna, with foolhardy recklessness, " thecourtier returned. "You may learn it to your undoing. "

That Gonzaga was not the only one entertaining this opinion they weresoon to learn, for, as they reached the courtyard a burly, black-browedruffian, Cappoccio by name, thrust himself in their path. 

"A word with you, Messer Gonzaga, and you, Ser Ercole. " His attitudewas full of truculent insolence, and all paused, Francesco and Valentinaturning from him to the two men whom he addressed, and waiting to hearwhat he might have to say to them. "When I accepted service under you, I was given to understand that I was entering a business that shouldentail little risk to my skin. I was told that probably there would beno fighting, and that if there were, it would be no more than a brushwith the Duke's men. So, too, did you assure my comrades. "

"Did you indeed?" quoth Valentina, intervening, and addressing herselfto Fortemani, to whom Cappoccio's words had been directed. 

"I did, Madonna, " answered Ercole. "But I had Messer Gonzaga's word forit. "

"Did you, " she continued, turning to Gonzaga, "permit their engagementon that understanding?"

"On some such understanding, yes, Madonna, " he was forced to confess. 

She looked at him a moment in amazement. Then:

"Msser Gonzaga, " she said at length, "I think that I begin to know you. "

But Cappoccio, who was nowise interested in the extent of Valentina'sknowledge of the man, broke in impetuously:

"Now we have heard what has passed between this new Provost here and hisHighness of Babbiano. We have heard the terms that were offered, andhis rejection of them, and I am come to tell you, Ser Ercole, and you, Messer Gonzaga, that I for one will not remain here to be hanged whenRoccaleone shall fall into the hands of Gian Maria. And there are othersof my comrades who are of the same mind. "

Valentina looked at the rugged, determined features of the man, andfear for the first time stole into her heart and was reflected on hercountenance. She was half-turning to Gonzaga, to vent upon him some ofthe bitterness of her humour--for him she accounted to blame--when onceagain Francesco came to the rescue. 

"Now, shame on you, Cappoccio, for a paltry hind! Are these words forthe ears of a besieged and sorely harassed lady, craven?"

"I am no craven, " the man answered hoarsely, his face flushing under thewhip of Francesco's scorn. "Out in the open I will take my chances, andfight in any cause that pays me. But this is not my trade--this waitingfor the death of a trapped rat. "

Francesco met his eyes steadily for a moment, then glanced at the othermen, to the number of a half-score or so--all, in fact, whom the dutieshe had apportioned them did not hold elsewhere. They hung in the rearof Cappoccio, all ears for what was being said, and their countenancesplainly showing how their feelings were in sympathy with theirspokesman. 

"And you a soldier, Cappoccio?" sneered Francesco. "Shall I tell youin what Fortemani was wrong when he enlisted you? He was wrong in nothiring you for scullion duty in the castle kitchen. "

"Sir Knight!"

"Bah! Do you raise your voice to me? Do you think I am of your kind, animal, to be affrighted by sounds--however hideous?"

"I am not affrighted by sounds. "

"Are you not? Why, then, all this ado about a bunch of empty threatscast at us by the Duke of Babbiano? If you were indeed the soldier youwould have us think you, would you come here and say, 'I will not diethis way, or that'? Confess yourself a boaster when you tell us that youare ready to die in the open. "

"Nay! That am I not. "

"Then, if you are ready to die out there, why not in here? Shallit signify aught to him that dies where he gets his dying done? Butreassure yourself, you woman, " he added, with a laugh, and in avoice loud enough to be heard by the others, "you are not going todie--neither here, nor there. "

"When Roccaleone capitulates----"

"It will not capitulate, " thundered Francesco. 

"Well, then--when it is taken. "

"Nor will it be taken, " the Provost insisted, with an assurance thatcarried conviction. "If Gian Maria had time unlimited at his command, he might starve us into submission. But he has not. An enemy is menacinghis own frontiers, and in a few days--a week, at most--he will be forcedto get him hence to defend his crown. "

"The greater reason for him to use stern measures and bombard us as hethreatens, " answered Cappoccio shrewdly but rather in the tone of a manwho expects to have his argument disproved. And Francesco, if he couldnot disprove it, could at least contradict it. 

"Believe it not, " he cried, with a scornful laugh. "I tell you that GianMaria will never dare so much. And if he did, are these walls that willcrumble at a few cannon-shots? Assault he might attempt; but I need nottell a soldier that twenty men who are stout and resolute, as I willbelieve you are for all your craven words, could hold so strong a placeas this against the assault of twenty times the men the Duke has withhim. And for the rest, if you think I tell you more than I believemyself, I ask you to remember how I am included in Gian Maria's threat. I am but a soldier like you, and such risks as are yours are mine aswell. Do you see any sign of faltering in me, any sign of doubting theissue, or any fear of a rope that shall touch me no more than it shalltouch you? There, Cappoccio! A less merciful provost would have hangedyou for your words--for they reek of sedition. Yet I have stood andargued with you, because I cannot spare a brave man such as youwill prove yourself. Let us hear no more of your doubtings. They areunworthy. Be brave and resolute, and you shall find yourself wellrewarded when the baffled Duke shall be forced to raise this siege. "

He turned without waiting for the reply of Cappoccio--who stoodcrestfallen, his cheeks reddened by shame of his threat to get himhence--and conducted Valentina calmly across the yard and up the stepsof the hall. 

It was his way never to show a doubt that his orders would be obeyed, yet on this occasion scarce had the door of the hall closed after themwhen he turned sharply to the following Ercole. 

"Get you an arquebuse, " he said quickly, "and take my man Lanciotto, with you. Should those dogs still prove mutinous, fire into any thatattempt the gates--fire to kill--and send me word. But above all, Ercole, do not let them see you or suspect your presence; that were toundermine such effect as my words may have produced. "

From out of a woefully pale face Valentina raised her brown eyes to his, in a look that was as a stab to the observing Gonzaga. 

"I needed a man here, " she said, "and I think that Heaven it must havebeen that sent you to my aid. But do you think, " she asked, and with hereyes she closely scanned his face for any sign of doubt, "that they arepacified?"

"I am assured of it, Madonna. Come, there are signs of tears in youreyes, and--by my soul!--there is naught to weep at. "

"I am but a woman, after all, " she smiled up at him, "and so, subject toa woman's weakness. It seemed as if the end were indeed come just now. It had come, but for you. If they should mutiny----"

"They shall not, while I am here, " he answered, with a cheeringconfidence. And she, full of faith in this true knight of hers, went toseek her ladies, and to soothe in her turn any alarm to which they mighthave fallen a prey. 

Francesco went to disarm, and Gonzaga to take the air upon the ramparts, his heart a very bag of gall. His hatred for the interloper was asnothing now to his rage against Valentina, a rage that had its birthin a wondering uncomprehension of how she should prefer that coarse, swashbuckling bully to himself, the peerless Gonzaga. And as he walkedthere, under the noontide sky, the memory of Francesco's assurance thatthe men would not mutiny returned to him, and he caught himself mostardently desiring that they might, if only to bear it home to Valentinahow misplaced was her trust, how foolish her belief in that loudboaster. He thought next--and with increasing bitterness--of his ownbrave schemes, of his love for Valentina, and of how assured he hadbeen that his affections were returned, before this ruffler cameamongst them. He laughed in bitter scorn as the thought returned to herpreferring Francesco to himself. Well, it might be so now--now that thetimes were warlike, and this Francesco was such a man as shone at hisbest in them. But what manner of companion would this sbirro make intimes of peace? Had he the wit, the grace, the beauty even that wasGonzaga's? Circumstance, it seemed to him, was here to blame, and heroundly cursed that same Circumstance. In other surroundings, he wasassured that she would not have cast an eye upon Francesco whilst he, himself, was by; and if he recalled their first meeting at Acquasparta, it was again to curse Circumstance for having placed the knight in suchcase as to appeal to the tenderness that is a part of woman's nature. 

He reflected--assured that he was right--that if Francesco had not cometo Roccaleone, he might by now have been wed to Valentina; and once wed, he could throw down the bridge and march out of Roccaleone, assured thatGian Maria would not care to espouse his widow, and no less assured thatGuidobaldo--who was at heart a kind and clement prince--would be contentto let be what was accomplished, since there would be naught gainedbeyond his niece's widowhood in hanging Gonzaga. It was the speciousargument that had lured him upon this rash enterprise, the hopes thathe was confident would have fructified but for the interloping ofFrancesco. 

He stood looking down at the tented plain, with black rage and blackdespair blotting the beauty from the sunlight of that May morning, andthen it came to him that since there was naught to be hoped from hisold plans, might it not be wise to turn his attention to new ones thatwould, at least, save him from hanging? For he was assured that whatevermight betide the others, his own fate was sealed, whether Roccaleonefell or not. It would be remembered against him that the affair was ofhis instigating, and from neither Gian Maria nor Guidobaldo might helook for mercy. 

And now the thought of extricating himself from his desperate perilturned him cold by its suddenness. He stood very still a moment; thenlooked about him as though he feared that some watching spy might readon him the ugly intention that of a sudden had leapt to life in hisheart. Swiftly it spread, and took more definite shape, the reflectionof it showing now upon his smooth, handsome face, and disfiguring itbeyond belief. He drew away from the wall, and took a turn or two uponthe ramparts, one hand behind him, the other raised to support hisdrooping chin. Thus he brooded for a little while. Then, with another ofhis furtive glances, he turned to the north-western tower, and enteredthe armoury. There he rummaged until he had found the pen, ink and paperthat he sought, and with the door wide open--the better that he mighthear the sound of approaching steps--he set himself feverishly to write. It was soon done, and he stood up, waving the sheet to dry the ink. Thenhe looked it over again, and this is what he had written:

"I have it in my power to stir the garrison to mutiny and to throw openthe gates of Roccaleone. Thus shall the castle fall immediately intoyour hands, and you shall have a proof of how little I am in sympathywith this rebellion of Monna Valentina's. What terms do you offer meif I accomplish this? Answer me now, and by the same means as I amemploying, but dispatch not your answer if I show myself upon theramparts. 

"ROMEO GONZAGA. "

He folded the paper, and on the back he wrote the superscription--"Tothe High and Mighty Duke of Babbiano. " Then opening a large chest thatstood against the wall, he rummaged a moment, and at last withdrew anarbalest quarrel. About the body of this he tied his note. Next, fromthe wall he took down a cross-bow, and from a corner a moulinet forwinding it. With his foot in the stirrup he made the cord taut and setthe shaft in position. 

And now he closed the door, and, going to the window, which was littlemore than an arrow-slit, he shouldered his arbalest. He took careful aimin the direction of the ducal tent, and loosed the quarrel. He watchedits light, and it almost thrilled him with pride in his archery to seeit strike the tent at which he had aimed, and set the canvas shuddering. 

In a moment there was a commotion. Men ran to the spot, others emergedfrom the tent, and amongst the latter Gonzaga recognised the figures ofGian Maria and Guidobaldo. 

The bolt was delivered to the Duke of Babbiano, who, with an upwardglance at the ramparts, vanished into the tent once more. 

Gonzaga moved from his eerie, and set wide the door of the tower, so that his eyes could range the whole of the sun-bathed ramparts. Returning to his window, he waited impatiently for the answer. Nor washis impatience to endure long. At the end of some ten minutes GianMaria reappeared, and, summoning an archer to his side, he deliveredhim something and made a motion of his hand towards Roccaleone. Gonzagamoved to the door, and stood listening breathlessly. At the least signof an approach, he would have shown himself, and thus, by the provisionmade in his letter have cautioned the archer against shooting his bolt. But all was quiet, and so Gonzaga remained where he was until somethingflashed like a bird across his vision, struck sharply against theposterior wall, and fell with a tinkle on the broad stones of therampart. A moment later the answer from Gian Maria was in his hands. 

He swiftly unwound it from the shaft that had brought it, and droppedthe bolt into a corner. Then unfolding the letter, he read it, leaningagainst one of the merlons of the wall. 

"If you can devise a means to deliver Roccaleone at once into myhands you shall earn my gratitude, full pardon for your share in MonnaValentina's rebellion, and the sum of a thousand gold florins. 

"GIAN MARIA. "

As he read, a light of joy leapt to his eyes. Gian Maria's terms werevery generous. He would accept them, and Valentina should realise whentoo late upon what manner of broken reed she leaned in relying uponMesser Francesco. Would he save her now, as he so loudly boasted? Wouldthere indeed be no mutiny, as he so confidently prophesied? Gonzagachuckled evilly to himself. She should learn her lesson, and when shewas Gian Maria's wife, she might perhaps repent her of her treatment ofRomeo Gonzaga. 

He laughed softly to himself. Then suddenly he turned cold, and he felthis skin roughening. A stealthy step sounded behind him. 

He crumpled the Duke's letter in his hand, and in the alarm of themoment, he dropped it over the wall. Seeking vainly to compose thefeatures that a chilling fear had now disturbed, he turned to see whocame. 

Behind him stood Peppe, his solemn eyes bent with uncanny intentnessupon Gonzaga's face. 

"You were seeking me?" quoth Romeo, and the quaver in his voice sortedill with his arrogance. 

The fool made him a grotesque bow. 

"Monna Valentina desires that you attend her in the garden, Illustrious. "

CHAPTER XIX. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

Peppe's quick eyes had seen Gonzaga crumple and drop the paper, no lessthan he had observed the courtier's startled face, and his suspicionshad been aroused. He was by nature prying, and experience had taughthim that the things men seek to conceal are usually the very thingsit imports most to have knowledge of. So when Gonzaga had gone, inobedience to Valentina's summons, the jester peered carefully over thebattlements. 

At first he saw nothing, and he was concluding with disappointment thatthe thing Gonzaga had cast from him was lost in the torrential watersof the moat. But presently, lodged on a jutting stone, above the foamingstream into which it would seem that a miracle had prevented itfrom falling, he espied a ball of crumpled paper. He observedwith satisfaction that it lay some ten feet immediately below thepostern-gate by the drawbridge. 

Secretly, for it was not Peppy's way to take men into his confidencewhere it might be avoided, he got himself a coil of rope. Havingdescended and quietly opened the postern, he made one end fast andlowered the other to the water with extreme care, lest he shoulddislodge, and so lose, that paper. 

Assuring himself again that he was unobserved, he went down, hand overhand, like a monkey, his feet against the rough-hewn granite of thewall. Then, with a little swinging of the rope, he brought himselfnearer that crumpled ball, his legs now dangling in the angry water, andby a mighty stretch that all but precipitated him into the torrent, heseized the paper and transferred it to his teeth. Then hand over handagain, and with a frantic haste, for he feared observation not only fromthe castle sentries but also from the watchers in the besieger's camp, he climbed back to the postern, exulting in that he had gone unobserved, and contemptuous for the vigilance of those that should have observedhim. 

Softly he closed the wicket, locked it and shot home the bolts at topand base, and went to replace the key on its nail in the guard-room, which he found untenanted. Next, with that mysterious letter in hishand, he scampered off across the courtyard and through the porchleading to the domestic quarters, nor paused until he had gained thekitchen, where Fra Domenico was roasting the quarter of a lamb thathe had that morning butchered. For now that the siege was established, there was no more fish from the brook, nor hares and ortolans from thecountry-side. 

The friar cursed the fool roundly, as was his wont upon everyoccasion, for he was none so holy that he disdained the milder formsof objurgatory oaths. But Peppe for once had no vicious answer ready, amatter that led the Dominican to ask him was he ill. 

Never heeding him, the fool unfolded and smoothed the crumpled paper ina corner by the fire. He read it and whistled, then stuffed it into thebosom of his absurd tunic. 

"What ails you?" quoth the friar. "What have you there?"

"A recipe for a dish of friar's brains. A most rare delicacy, andrendered costly by virtue of the scarcity of the ingredients. " And withthat answer Peppe was gone, leaving the monk with an ugly look in hiseyes, and an unuttered imprecation on his tongue. 

Straight to the Count of Aquila went the fool with his letter. Francescoread it, and questioned him closely as to what he knew of the manner inwhich it had come into Gonzaga's possession. For the rest, those lines, far from causing him the uneasiness Peppe expected, seemed a source ofsatisfaction and assurance to him. 

"He offers a thousand gold florins, " he muttered, "in addition toGonzaga's liberty and advancement. Why, then, I have said no more thanwas true when I assured the men that Gian Maria was but idly threateningus with bombardment. Keep this matter secret, Peppe. "

"But you will watch Messer Gonzaga?" quoth the fool. 

"Watch him? Why, where is the need? You do not imagine him so vile thatthis offer could tempt him?"

Peppe looked up, his great, whimsical face screwed into an expression ofcunning doubt. 

"You do not think, lord, that he invited it?"

"Now, shame on you for that thought. Messer Gonzaga may be an idlelute-thrummer, a poor-spirited coward; but a traitor----! And to betrayMonna Valentina! No, no. "

But the fool was far from reassured. He had had the longer acquaintanceof Messer Gonzaga, and his shrewd eyes had long since taken the man'sexact measure. Let Francesco scorn the notion of betrayal at Romeo'shands; Peppe would dog him like a shadow. This he did for the remainderof that day, clinging to Gonzaga as if he loved him dearly, andfurtively observing the man's demeanour. Yet he saw nothing to confirmhis suspicions beyond a certain preoccupied moodiness on the courtier'spart. 

That night, as they supped, Gonzaga pleaded toothache, and withValentina's leave he quitted the table at the very outset of the meal. Peppe rose to follow him, but as he reached the door, his natural enemy, the friar--ever anxious to thwart him where he could--caught him by thenape of the neck, and flung him unceremoniously back into the room. 

"Have you a toothache too, good-for-naught?" quoth the frate. "Stay youhere and help me to wait upon the company. "

"Let me go, good Fra Domenico, " the fool whispered, in a voice soearnest that the monk left his way clear. But Valentina's voice now badehim stay with them, and so his opportunity was lost. 

He moved about the room a very dispirited, moody fool with no quip foranyone, for his thoughts were all on Gonzaga and the treason that hewas sure he was hatching. Yet faithful to Francesco, who sat allunconcerned, and not wishing to alarm Valentina, he choked back thewarning that rose to his lips, seeking to convince himself that hisfears sprang perhaps from an excess of suspicion. Had he knownhow well-founded indeed they were he might have practised lessself-restraint. 

For whilst he moved sullenly about the room, assisting Fra Domenico withthe dishes and platters, Gonzaga paced the ramparts beside Cappoccio, who was on sentry duty on the north wall. 

His business called for no great diplomacy, nor did Gonzaga employ much. He bluntly told Cappoccio that he and his comrades had allowed MesserFrancesco's glib tongue to befool them that morning, and that theassurances Francesco had given them were not worthy of an intelligentman's consideration. 

"I tell you, Cappoccio, " he ended, "that to remain here and protractthis hopeless resistance will cost you your life at the unsavoury handsof the hangman. You see I am frank with you. "

Now for all that what Gonzaga told him might sort excellently well withthe ideas he had himself entertained, Cappoccio was of a suspiciousnature, and his suspicions whispered to him now that Gonzaga wasactuated by some purpose he could not gauge. 

He stood still, and leaning with both hands upon his partisan, he soughtto make out the courtier's features in the dim light of the rising moon. 

"Do you mean, " he asked, and in his voice sounded the surprise withwhich Gonzaga's odd speech had filled him, "that we are foolish to havelistened to Messer Francesco, and that we should be better advised tomarch out of Roccaleone?"

"Yes; that is what I mean. "

"But why, " he insisted, his surprise increasing, "do you urge such acourse upon us?"

"Because, Cappoccio, " was the plausible reply, "like yourselves, I waslured into this business by insidious misrepresentations. The assurancesthat I gave Fortemani, and with which he enrolled you into his service, were those that had been given to me. I did not bargain with such adeath as awaits us here, and I frankly tell you that I have no stomachfor it. "

"I begin to understand, " murmured Cappoccio, sagely wagging his head, and there was a shrewd insolence in his tone and manner. "When we leaveRoccaleone you come with us?"

Gonzaga nodded. 

"But why do you not say these things to Fortemani?" questionedCappoccio, still doubting. 

"Fortemani!" echoed Gonzaga. "By the Host, no! The man is bewitchedby that plausible rogue, Francesco. Far from resenting the fellow'streatment of him, he follows and obeys his every word, like themean-spirited dog that he is. "

Again Cappoccio sought to scrutinise Gonzaga's face. But the light wasindifferent. 

"Are you dealing with me fairly?" he asked. "Or does some deeper purposelie under your wish that we should rebel against the lady?"

"My friend, " answered Gonzaga, "do you but wait until Gian Maria'sherald comes for his answer in the morning. Then you will learn againthe terms on which your lives are offered you. Do nothing until then. But when you hear yourselves threatened with the rope and the wheel, bethink you of what course you will be best advised in pursuing. You askme what purpose inspires me. I have already told you--for I am as openas the daylight with you--that I am inspired by the purpose of saving myown neck. Is not that purpose enough?"

A laugh of such understanding as would have set a better man on firewith indignation was the answer he received. 

"Why, yes, it is more than enough. To-morrow, then, my comrades and Imarch out of Roccaleone. Count upon that. "

"But do not accept my word. Wait until the herald comes again. Donothing until you have heard the terms he brings. "

"Why, no, assuredly not. "

"And do not let it transpire among your fellows that it is I who havesuggested this. "

"Why no. I'll keep your secret, " laughed the bravo offensively, shouldering his partisan and resuming his sentinel's pacing. 

Gonzaga sought his bed. A fierce joy consumed him at having soconsummately planned Valentina's ruin, yet he did not wish to face heragain that night. 

But when on the morrow the herald wound his horn again beneath thecastle walls, Gonzaga was prominent in the little group that attendedMonna Valentina. The Count of Aquila was superintending the work towhich he had set a half-score of men. With a great show, and as muchnoise as possible--by which Francesco intended that the herald should beimpressed--they were rolling forward four small culverins and somethree cannons of larger calibre, and planting them so that they made amenacing show in the crenels of the parapet. 

Whilst watching and directing the men, he kept his ears open for themessage, and he heard the herald again recite the terms on which thegarrison might surrender, and again the threat to hang every man fromthe castle-walls if they compelled him to reduce them by force of arms. He brought his message to an end by announcing that in his extremeclemency Gian Maria accorded them another half-hour's grace in which toresolve themselves upon their course. Should the end of that timestill find them obstinate, the bombardment would commence. Such was themessage that in another of his arrow-borne letters Gonzaga had suggestedGian Maria should send. 

It was Francesco who stepped forward to reply. He had been stooping overone of the guns, as if to assure himself of the accuracy of its aim, andas he rose he pronounced himself satisfied in a voice loud enough forthe herald's hearing. Then he advanced to Valentina's side, and whilsthe stood there delivering his answer he never noticed the silentdeparture of the men from the wall. 

"You will tell his Highness of Babbiano, " he replied, "that he remindsus of the boy in the fable who cried 'Wolf!' too often. Tell him, sir, that his threats leave this garrison as unmoved as do his promises. Ifso be that he intends in truth to bombard us, let him begin forthwith. We are ready for him, as you perceive. Maybe he did not suppose usequipped with cannon; but there they stand. Those guns are trained uponhis camp, and the first shot he fires upon us shall be a signal forsuch a reply as he little dreams of. Tell him, too, that we expect noquarter, and will yield none. We are unwilling for bloodshed, but if hedrives us to it and executes his purpose of employing cannon, then theconsequences be upon his own head. Bear him that answer, and tell him tosend you no more with empty threats. "

The herald bowed upon the withers of his horse. The arrogance, the coldimperiousness of the message struck him dumb with amazement. Amazementwas his, too, that Roccaleone should be armed with cannon, as with hisown eyes he saw. That those guns were empty he could not guess, norcould Gian Maria when he heard a message that filled him with rage, andwould have filled him with dismay, but that he counted upon the mutinywhich Gonzaga had pledged himself to stir up. 

As the herald was riding away a gruff laugh broke from Fortemani, whostood behind the Count. 

Valentina turned to Francesco with eyes that beamed admiration and asingular tenderness. 

"Oh, what had I done without you, Messer Francesco?" she cried, forsurely the twentieth time since his coming. "I tremble to think howthings had gone without your wit and valour to assist me. " She nevernoticed the malicious smile that trembled on Gonzaga's pretty face. "Where did you find the powder?" she asked innocently, for her mind hadnot yet caught that humour of the situation that had drawn a laugh fromFortemani. 

"I found none, " answered Francesco, smiling from the shadow of his helm. "My threats"--and he waved his hand in the direction of that formidablearray of guns--"are as empty as Gian Maria's. Yet I think they willimpress him more than his do us. I will answer for it, Madonna, thatthey deter him from bombarding us--if so be that he ever intended to. Solet us go and break our fast with a glad courage. "

"Those guns are empty?" she gasped. "And you could talk so boldly andthreaten so defiantly!"

Mirth crept now into her face, and thrust back the alarm, a little ofwhich had peeped from her eyes even as she was extolling Francesco. 

"There!" he cried joyously. "You are smiling now, Madonna. Nor haveyou cause for aught else. Shall we descend? This early morning work hasgiven me the hunger of a wolf. "

She turned to go with him, and in that moment, Peppe, his owlish facespread over with alarm, dashed up the steps from the courtyard. 

"Madonna!" he gasped, breathless. "Messer Francesco! Themen--Cappoccio---- He is haranguing them. He--is inciting them totreachery. "

So, in gasps, he got out his tale, which swept the mirth again fromValentina's eyes, and painted very white her cheek. Strong and bravethough she was, she felt her senses swimming at that sudden revulsionfrom confidence to fear. Was all indeed ended at the very moment whenhope had reached its high meridian?

"You are faint, Madonna; lean on me. "

It was Gonzaga who spoke. But beyond the fact that the words had beenuttered, she realised nothing. She saw an arm advanced, and she took it. Then she dragged Gonzaga with her to the side overlooking the courtyard, that with her own eyes she might have evidence of what was toward. 

She heard an oath--a vigorous, wicked oath--from Francesco, followed bya command, sharp and rasping. 

"To the armoury yonder, Peppe! Fetch me a two-handed sword--the stoutestyou can find. Ercole, come with me. Gonzaga---- Nay, you had best stayhere. See to Monna Valentina. "

He stepped to her side now, and rapidly surveyed the surging scenebelow, where Cappoccio was still addressing the men. At sight ofFrancesco, they raised a fierce yell, as might a pack of dogs that havesighted their quarry. 

"To the gates!" was the shout. "Down the draw­bridge! We accept theterms of Gian Maria. We will not die like rats. "

"By God, but you shall, if I so will it!" snarled Francesco through hisset teeth. Then turning his head in a fever of impatience "Peppe, " heshouted, "will you never bring that sword?"

The fool came up at that moment, staggering under the weight of a great, double-edged two-hander, equipped with lugs, and measuring a good sixfeet from point to pummel. Francesco caught it from him, and bending, hemuttered a swift order in Peppino's ear. 

"... In the box that stands upon the table in my chamber, " Gonzagaoverheard him say. "Now go, and bring it to me in the yard. Speed you, Peppino!"

A look of understanding flashed up from the hunchback's eyes, and as hedeparted at a run Francesco hoisted the mighty sword to his shoulder asthough its weight were that of a feather. In that instant Valentina'swhite hand was laid upon the brassart that steeled his fore-arm. 

"What will you do?" she questioned, in a whisper, her eyes dilating withalarm. 

"Stem the treachery of that rabble, " he answered shortly. "Stay youhere, Madonna. Fortemani and I will pacify them--or make an end ofthem. " And so grimly did he say it that Gonzaga believed it to liewithin his power. 

"But you are mad!" she cried, and the fear in her eyes increased. "Whatcan you do against twenty?"

"What God pleases, " he answered, and for a second put the ferocity fromhis heart that he might smile reassurance. 

"But you will be killed, " she cried. "Oh! don't go, don't go! Let themhave their way, Messer Francesco. Let Gian Maria invest the castle. Icare not, so that you do not go. "

Her voice, and the tale it told of sweet anxiety for his fate overrulingeverything else in that moment--even her horror of Gian Maria--quickenedhis blood to the pace of ecstasy. He was taken by a wild longing tocatch her in his arms--this lady hitherto so brave and daunted now bythe fear of his peril only. Every fibre of his being urged him to gatherher to his breast, whilst he poured courage and comfort into her ear. Hefainted almost with desire to kiss those tender eyes, upturned to hisin her piteous pleading that he should not endanger his own life. Butsuppressing all, he only smiled, though very tenderly. 

"Be brave, Madonna, and trust in me a little. Have I failed you yet?Need you then fear that I shall fail you now?"

At that she seemed to gather courage. The words reawakened herconfidence in his splendid strength. 

"We shall laugh over this when we break our fast, " he cried. "Come, Ercole!" And without waiting for more, he leapt down the steps with anagility surprising in one so heavily armed as he. 

They were no more than in time. As they gained the courtyard themen came sweeping along towards the gates, their voices raucous andthreatening. They were full of assurance. All hell they thought couldnot have hindered them, and yet at sight of that tall figure, brightas an angel, in his panoply of glittering steel, with that great swordpoised on his left shoulder, some of the impetuousness seemed to fallfrom them. 

Still they advanced, Cappoccio's voice shouting encouragement. Almostwere they within range of that lengthy sword, when of a sudden itflashed from his shoulder, and swept a half-circle of dazzling lightbefore their eyes. Round his head it went, and back again before them, handled as though it had been a whip, and bringing them, silent, to astandstill. He bore it back to his shoulder, and alert for the firstmovement, his blood on fire, and ready to slay a man or two should theexample become necessary, he addressed them. 

"You see what awaits you if you persist in this, " he said, in adangerously quiet voice. "Have you no shame, you herd of cowardlyanimals! You are loud-voiced enough where treason to the hand that paysyou is in question; but there, it seems, your valour ends. "

He spoke to them now in burning words. He recapitulated the argumentswhich yesterday he had made use of to quell the mutinous spirit ofCappoccio. He assured them that Gian Maria threatened more than he couldaccomplish; and so, perhaps, more than he would fulfil if they were sofoolish as to place themselves in his power. Their safety, he pointedout to them, lay here, behind these walls. The siege could not longendure. They had a stout ally in Caesar Borgia, and he was marchingupon Babbiano by then, so that Gian Maria must get him home perforce erelong. Their pay was good, he reminded them, and if the siege were soonraised they should be well rewarded. 

"Gian Maria threatens to hang you when he captures Roccaleone. But evenshould he capture it, do you think he would be allowed to carry out soinhuman a threat? You are mercenaries, after all, in the pay of MonnaValentina, on whom and her captains the blame must fall. This is Urbino, not Babbiano, and Gian Maria is not master here. Do you think the nobleand magnanimous Guidobaldo would let you hang? Have you so poor anopinion of your Duke? Fools! You are as safe from violence as are thoseladies in the gallery up there. For Guidobaldo would no more think ofharming you than of permitting harm to come to them. If any hangingthere is it will be for me, and perhaps for Messer Gonzaga who hiredyou. Yet, do I talk of throwing down my arms? What think you holds mehere? Interest--just as interest holds you--and if I think the riskworth taking, why should not you? Are you so tame and so poor-spiritedthat a threat is to vanquish you? Will you become a byword in Italy, andwhen men speak of cowardice, will you have them say: 'Craven as MonnaValentina's garrison'?"

In this strain he talked to them, now smiting hard with his scorn, nowcajoling them with his assurances, and breeding confidence anew in theirshaken spirits. It was a thing that went afterwards to the making of anepic that was sung from Calabria to Piedmont, how this brave knight, by his words, by the power of his will and the might of his presence, curbed and subdued that turbulent score of rebellious hinds. 

And from the wall above Valentina watched him, her eyes sparkling withtears that had not their source in sorrow nor yet in fear, for she knewthat he must prevail. How could it be else with one so dauntless?

Thus thought she now. But in the moment of his going, fear had chilledher to the heart, and when she first saw him take his stand before them, she had turned half-distraught, and begged Gonzaga not to linger at herside, but to go lend what aid he could to that brave knight who stood sosorely in need of it. And Gonzaga had smiled a smile as pale as Januarysunshine, and his soft blue eyes had hardened in their glance. Notweakness now was it that held him there, well out of the dangerousturmoil. For he felt that had he possessed the strength of Hercules, andthe courage of Achilles, he would not in that instant have moved a stepto Francesco's aid. And as much he told her. 

"Why should I, Madonna?" he had returned coldly. "Why should I raise ahand to help the man whom you prefer to me? Why should I draw sword inthe cause of this fortress?"

She looked at him with troubled eyes. "What are you saying, my goodGonzaga?"

"Aye--your good Gonzaga!" he mocked her bitterly. "Your lap-dog, yourlute-thrummer; but not man enough to be your captain; not man enough toearn a thought that is kinder than any earned by Peppe or your hounds. I may endanger my neck to serve you, to bring you hither to a place ofsafety from Gian Maria's persecution, and be cast aside for one who, ithappens, has a little more knowledge of this coarse trade of arms. Castme aside if you will, " he pursued, with increasing bitterness, "buthaving done so, do not ask me to serve you again. Let Messer Francescofight it out----"

"Hush, Gonzaga!" she interrupted. "Let me hear what he is saying. "

And her tone told the courtier that his words had been lost uponthe morning air. Engrossed in the scene below she had not so much aslistened to his bitter tirade. For now Francesco was behaving oddly. Thefool was returned from the errand on which he had been despatched, andFrancesco called him to his side. Lowering his sword he received a paperfrom Peppe's hand. 

Burning with indignation at having gone unheeded, Gonzaga stood gnawinghis lip, whilst Valentina craned forward to catch Francesco's words. 

"I have here a proof, " he cried, "of what I tell you; proof of howlittle Gian Maria is prepared to carry out his threats of cannon. It isthat fellow Cappoccio has seduced you with his talk. And you, like thesheep you are, let yourselves be driven by his foul tongue. Now listento the bribe that Gian Maria offers to one within these walls if he cancontrive a means to deliver Roccaleone into his hands. " And to Gonzaga'sparalysing consternation, he heard Francesco read the letter with whichGian Maria had answered his proposed betrayal of the fortress. Hewent white with fear and he leant against the low wall to steadythe tell-tale trembling that had seized him. Then Francesco's voice, scornful and confident, floated up to his ears. "I ask you, my friends, would his Highness of Babbiano be disposed to the payment of athousand gold florins if by bombardment he thought to break a way intoRoccaleone? This letter was written yesterday. Since then we have madea brave display of cannon ourselves; and if yesterday he dared not fire, think you he will to-day? But here, assure yourselves, if there is oneamongst you that can read. "

He held out the letter to them. Cappoccio took it, and calling oneAventano, he held it out in his turn. This Aventano, a youth who hadbeen partly educated for the Church, but had fallen from that loftypurpose, now stood forward and took the letter. He scrutinised it, readit aloud, and pronounced it genuine. 

"Whom is it addressed to?" demanded Cappoccio. 

"Nay, nay!" cried Francesco. "What need for that?"

"Let be, " Cappoccio answered, almost fiercely. "If you would have usremain in Roccaleone, let be. Aventano, tell me. "

"To Messer Romeo Gonzaga, " answered the youth, in a voice of wonder. 

So evil a light leapt to Cappoccio's eye that Francesco carried his freehand to the sword which he had lowered. But Cappoccio only looked up atGonzaga, and grinned malevolently. It had penetrated his dull wits thathe had been the tool of a judas, who sought to sell the castle for athousand florins. Further than that Cappoccio did not see; nor was hevery resentful, and his grin was rather of mockery than of anger. He wastroubled by no lofty notions of honour that should cause him to see inthis deed of Gonzaga's anything more than such a trickster's act as itis always agreeable to foil. And then, to the others, who knew naughtof what was passing in Cappoccio's mind, he did a mighty strange thing. From being the one to instigate them to treachery and mutiny, he wasthe one now to raise his voice in a stout argument of loyalty. He agreedwith all that Messer Francesco had said, and he, for one, ranged himselfon Messer Francesco's side to defend the gates from any traitors whosought to open them to Gian Maria Sforza. 

His defection from the cause of mutiny was the signal for the utterabandoning of that cause itself, and another stout ally came opportunelyto weigh in Francesco's favour was the fact that the half-hour of gracewas now elapsed, and Gian Maria's guns continued silent. He drew theirattention to the fact with a laugh, and bade them go in peace, addingthe fresh assurance that those guns would not speak that day, nor thenext, nor indeed ever. 

Utterly conquered by Francesco and--perhaps even more--by his unexpectedally, Cappoccio, they slunk shamefacedly away to the food and drink thathe bade them seek at Fra Domenico's hands. 

CHAPTER XX. THE LOVERS

"How came that letter to your hands?" Valentina asked Gonzaga, whenpresently they stood together in the courtyard, whither the courtier hadfollowed her when she descended. 

"Wrapped round an arbalest-bolt that fell on the ramparts yesterdaywhilst I was walking there alone, " returned Gonzaga coolly. 

He had by now regained his composure. He saw that stood in deadly peril, and the very fear that possessed him seemed, by an odd paradox, to lendhim the strength to play his part. 

Valentina eyed him with a something of mistrust in her glance. But onFrancesco's clear countenance no shadow of suspicion showed. His eyesalmost smiled as he asked Gonzaga:

"Why did you not bear it to Monna Valentina?"

A flush reddened the courtier's cheeks. He shrugged his shouldersimpatiently, and in a voice that choked with anger he delivered hisreply. 

"To you, sir, who seem bred in camps and reared in guard-rooms, thefulness of this insult offered me by Gian Maria may not be apparent. Itmay not be yours to perceive that the very contact of that letter soiledmy hands, that it shamed me unutterably to think that that loutishDuke should have deemed me a target for such a shaft. It were idle, therefore, to seek to make you understand how little I could bear tosubmit to the further shame of allowing another to see the affront thatI was powerless to avenge. I did, sir, with that letter the only thingconceivable. I crumpled it in my hand and cast it from me, just as Isought to cast its contents from my mind. But your watchful spies, SerFrancesco, bore it to you, and if my shame has been paraded before theeyes of that rabble soldiery, at least it has served the purpose ofsaving Monna Valentina. To do that, I would, if the need arose, immolatemore than the pride that caused me to be silent on the matter of thiscommunication. "

He spoke with such heat of sincerity that he convinced both Francescoand Valentina, and the lady's eyes took on a softer expression as shesurveyed Gonzaga--this poor Gonzaga whom, her heart told her, she hadsorely wronged in thought. Francesco, ever generous, took his passionateutterances in excellent part. 

"Messer Gonzaga, I understand your scruples. You do me wrong to thinkthat I should fail in that. "

He checked the suggestion he was on the point of renewing that, nevertheless, Gonzaga would have been better advised to have laid thatletter at once before Monna Valentina. Instead, he dismissed the subjectwith a laugh, and proposed that they should break their fast so soon ashe had put off his harness. 

He went to do so, whilst Valentina bent her steps towards thedining-room, attended by Gonzaga, to whom she now sought to make amendsfor her suspicions by an almost excessive friendliness of bearing. 

But there was one whom Gonzaga's high-sounding words in connection withthat letter had left cold. This was Peppe, that most wise of fools. Hehastened after Francesco, and while the knight was disarming he came tovoice his suspicions. But Francesco drove him out with impatience, andPeppe went sorrowing and swearing that the wisdom of the fool was trulybetter than the folly of the wise. 

Throughout that day Gonzaga hardly stirred from Valentina's side. He talked with her in the morning at great length and upon subjectspoetical or erudite, by which he meant to display his vast mentalsuperiority over the swashbuckling Francesco. In the evening, when theheat of the day was spent, and whilst that same Messer Francesco wasat some defensive measures on the walls, Gonzaga played at bowls withValentina and her ladies--the latter having now recovered from the panicto which earlier they had been a prey. 

That morning Gonzaga had stood at bay, seeing his plans crumble. Thatevening, after the day spent in Valentina's company--and she so sweetand kind to him--he began to take heart of grace once more, and hisvolatile mind whispered to his soul the hope that, after all, thingsmight well be as he had first intended, if he but played his cardsadroitly, and did not mar his chances by the precipitancy that had oncegone near to losing him. His purpose gathered strength from a messagethat came that evening from Gian Maria, who was by then assured thatGonzaga's plan had failed. He sent word that, being unwilling to provokethe bloodshed threatened by the reckless madman who called himself MonnaValentina's Provost, he would delay the bombardment, hoping that inthe meantime hunger would beget in that rebellious garrison a moresubmissive mood. 

Francesco read the message to Madonna's soldiers, and they received itjoyously. Their confidence in him increased a hundredfold by this proofof the accuracy of his foresight. They were a gay company at supper inconsequence, and gayest of all was Messer Gonzaga, most bravely dressedin a purple suit of taby silk to honour so portentous an occasion. 

Francesco was the first to quit the table, craving Monna Valentina'sleave to be about some duty that took him to the walls. She let him go, and afterwards sat pensive, nor heeded now Romeo's light chatter, noryet the sonnet of Petrarca that presently he sang the company. Herthoughts were all with him that had left the board. Scarcely a word hadshe exchanged with Francesco since that delirious moment when they hadlooked into each other's eyes upon the ramparts, and seen the secretthat each was keeping from the other. Why had he not come to her? sheasked herself. And then she bethought her of how Gonzaga had all daylong been glued to her side, and she realised, too, that it was she hadshunned Francesco's company, grown of a sudden strangely shy. 

But greater than her shyness was now her desire to be near him, and tohear his voice; to have him look again upon her as he had looked thatmorning, when in terror for him she had sought to dissuade him fromopposing the craven impulse of her men-at-arms. A woman of mature age, or one riper in experience, would have waited for him to seek her out. But Valentina, in her sweet naturalness, thought never of subterfuge orof dalliant wiles. She rose quietly from the table ere Gonzaga's songwas done, and as quietly she slipped from the room. 

It was a fine night, the air heavy with the vernal scent of fertilelands, and the deep cobalt of the heavens a glittering, star-fleckeddome in a lighter space of which floated the half-disk of the growingmoon. Such a moon, she bethought her, as she had looked at with thoughtsof him, the night after their brief meeting at Acquasparta. She hadgained that north rampart on which he had announced that duty took him, and yonder she saw a man---the only tenant of the wall--leaning upon theembattled parapet, looking down at the lights of Gian Maria's camp. Hewas bareheaded, and by the gold coif that gleamed in his hair she knewhim. Softly she stole up behind him. 

"Do we dream here, Messer Francesco?" she asked him, as she reached hisside, and there was laughter running through her words. 

He started round at the sound of her voice, then he laughed too, softlyand gladly. 

"It is a night for dreams, and I was dreaming indeed. But you havescattered them. "

"You grieve me, " she rallied him. "For assuredly they were pleasant, since, to come here and indulge them, you left--us. "

"Aye--they were pleasant, " he answered. "And yet, they were fraught witha certain sadness, but idle as is the stuff of dreams. They were yoursto dispel, for they were of you. "

"Of me?" she questioned, her heart-beats quickening and bringing to hercheeks a flush that she thanked the night for concealing. 

"Yes, Madonna--of you and our first meeting in the woods at Acquasparta. Do you recall it?"

"I do, I do, " she murmured fondly. 

"And do you recall how I then swore myself your knight and ever yourchampion? Little did we dream how the honour that I sighed for was to bemine. "

She made him no answer, her mind harking back to that first meeting onwhich so often and so fondly she had pondered. 

"I was thinking, too, " he said presently, "of that man Gian Maria in theplain yonder, and of this shameful siege. "

"You--you have no misgivings?" she faltered, for his words haddisappointed her a little. 

"Misgivings?"

"For being here with me. For being implicated in what they call myrebellion?"

He laughed softly, his eyes upon the silver gleam of waters below. 

"My misgivings are all for the time when this siege shall be ended; whenyou and I shall have gone each our separate way, " he answered boldly. He turned to face her now, and his voice rang a little tense. "But forbeing here to guide this fine resistance and lend you the little aid Ican---- No, no, I have no misgiving for that. It is the dearest frolicever my soldiering led me into. I came to Roccaleone with a message ofwarning; but underneath, deep down in my heart, I bore the hope thatmine should be more than a messenger's part; that mine it might be toremain by you and do such work as I am doing. "

"Without you they would have forced me by now to surrender. "

"Perhaps they would. But while I am here I do not think they will. Iburn for news of Babbiano. If I could but tell what is happening thereI might cheer you with the assurance that this siege can last but a fewdays longer. Gian Maria must get him home or submit to the loss ofhis throne. And if he loses that your uncle would no longer support sostrenuously his suit with you. To you, Madonna, this must be a cheeringthought. To me--alas! Why should I hope for it?"

He was looking away now into the night, but his voice quivered with theemotion that was in him. She was silent, and emboldened perhaps bythat silence of hers, encouraged by the memory of what he had seen thatmorning reflected in her eyes:

"Madonna, " he cried, "I would it might be mine to cut a road for youthrough that besieging camp, and bear you away to some blessed placewhere there are neither courts nor princes. But since this may not be, Madonna mia, I would that this siege might last for ever. "

And then--was it the night breeze faintly stirring through his hair thatmocked him with the whisper, "So indeed would I?" He turned to her, hishand, brown and nervous, fell upon hers, ivory-white, where it rested onthe stone. 

"Valentina!" he cried, his voice no louder than a whisper, his eyesardently seeking her averted ones. And then, as suddenly as it had leaptup, was the fire in his glance extinguished. He withdrew his hand fromhers, he sighed, and shifted his gaze to the camp once more. "Forgive, forget, Madonna, " he murmured bitterly, "that which in my madness I havepresumed. "

Silent she stood for a long moment; then she edged nearer to him, andher voice murmured back: "What if I account it no presumption?"

With a gasp he swung round to face her, and they stood very close, glance holding glance, and hers the less timid of the two. They thusremained for a little space. Then shaking his head and speaking with aninfinite sadness:

"It were better that you did, Madonna, " he made answer. 

"Better? But why?"

"Because I am no duke, Madonna. "

"And what of that?" she cried, to add with scorn: "Out yonder sits aduke. Oh, sir, how shall I account presumptuous in you the very wordsthat I would hear? What does your rank signify to me? I know you for thetruest knight, the noblest gentleman, and the most valiant friendthat ever came to the aid of distressed maiden. Do you forget the veryprinciples that have led me to make this resistance? That I am a woman, and ask of life no more than is a woman's due--and no less. "

There she stopped; again the blood suffused her cheeks as she bethoughther of how fast she talked, and of how bold her words might sound. Sheturned slightly from him, and leant now upon the parapet, gazing outinto the night. And as she stood thus, a very ardent voice it was thatwhispered in her ear:

"Valentina, by my soul, I love you!" And there that whisper, whichfilled her with an ecstasy that was almost painful in its poignancy, ended sharply as if throttled. Again his hand sought hers, which wasyielded to him as she would have yielded her whole life at his sweetbidding, and now his voice came less passionately. 

"Why delude ourselves with cruel hopes, my Valentina?" he was saying. "There is the future. There is the time when this siege shall be donewith, and when, Gian Maria having got him home, you will be free todepart. Whither will you go?"

She looked at him as if she did not understand the question, and hereyes were troubled, although in such light as there was he could scarcesee this. 

"I will go whither you bid me. Where else have I to go?" she added, witha note of bitterness. 

He started. Her answer was so far from what he had expected. 

"But your uncle----?"

"What duty do I owe to him? Oh, I have thought of it, and until--untilthis morning, it seemed that a convent must be my ultimate refuge. Ihave spent most of my young life at Santa Sofia, and the little that Ihave seen of the world at my uncle's court scarce invites me to seemore of it. The Mother Abbess loved me a little. She would take me back, unless----"

She broke off and looked at him, and before that look of absolute andsweet surrender his senses swam. That she was niece to the Dukeof Urbino he remembered no more than that he was Count of Aquila, well-born, but of none too rich estate, and certainly no more amatch for her in Guidobaldo's eyes than if he had been the simpleknight-errant that he seemed. 

He moved closer to her, his hands--as if obeying a bidding greater thanhis will, the bidding of that glance of hers, perhaps--took her by theshoulders, whilst his whole soul looked at her from his eyes. Then, witha stifled cry, he caught her to him. For a moment she lay, palpitant, within his arms, her tall, bronze head on a level with his chin, herheart beating against his heart. Stooping suddenly, he kissed her on thelips. She suffered it with an unresistance that invited. But when itwas done, she gently put him from her; and he, obedient to her slightestwish, curbed the wild ardour of his mood, and set her free. 

"Anima mia!" he cried rapturously. "You are mine now, betide what may. Not Gian Maria nor all the dukes in Christendom shall take you from me. "

She set her hand upon his lips to silence him, and he kissed the palm, so that laughing she drew back again. And now from laughter she passedto a great solemnity, and with arm outstretched towards the ducal camp:"Win me a way through those lines, " said she, "and bear me away fromUrbino--far away where Guidobaldo's power and the vengeance of GianMaria may not follow us--and you shall have won me for your own. Butuntil then, let there be a truce to--to this, between us. Here is aman's work to be done, and if I am weak as to-night, I may weaken you, and then we should both be undone. It is upon your strength I count, Franceschino mio, my true knight. "

He would have answered her. He had much to tell her--who and what hewas. But she pointed to the head of the steps, where a man's figureloomed. 

"Yonder comes the sentinel, " she said. "Leave me now, dear Francesco. Go. It is growing late. "

He bowed low before her, obedient ever, like the true knight he was, andtook his leave of her, his soul on fire. 

Valentina watched his retreating figure until it had vanished round theangle of the wall. Then with a profound sigh, that was as a prayer ofthanksgiving for this great good that had come into her life, she leanedupon the parapet and looked out into the darkness, her cheeks flushed, her heart still beating high. She laughed softly to herself out of thepure happiness of her mood. The camp of Gian Maria became a subject forher scorn. What should his might avail whilst she had such a champion todefend her now and hereafter?

There was an irony in that siege on which her fancy fastened. By comingthus in arms against her Gian Maria sought to win her for his wife; yetall that he had accomplished was to place her in the arms of the oneman whom she had learnt to love by virtue of this very siege. The mellowwarmth of the night, the ambient perfume of the fields were well-sortedto her mood, and the faint breeze that breathed caressingly upon hercheek seemed to re-echo the melodies her heart was giving forth. In thathour those old grey walls of Roccaleone seemed to enclose for her avery paradise, and the snatch of an old love song stole softly from herparted lips. But like a paradise--alas!--it had its snake that crept upunheard behind her, and was presently hissing in her ear. And its voicewas the voice of Romeo Gonzaga. 

"It comforts me, Madonna, that there is one, at least, in Roccaleone hasthe heart to sing. "

Startled out of her happy pensiveness by that smooth and now unutterablysinister voice, she turned to face its owner. 

She saw the white gleam of his face and something of the anger thatsmouldered in his eye, and despite herself a thrill of alarm ran throughher like a shudder. She looked beyond him to a spot where lately shehad seen the sentry. There was no one there nor anywhere upon that wall. They were alone, and Messer Gonzaga looked singularly evil. 

For a moment there was a tense silence, broken only by the tumblingwaters of the torrent-moat and the hoarse challenge of a sentry's "Chiva lą?" in Gian Maria's camp. Then she turned nervously, wonderinghow much he might have heard of what had passed between herself andFrancesco, how much have seen. 

"And yet, Gonzaga, " she answered him, "I left you singing below when Icame away. "

"--To wanton it here in the moonlight with that damned swashbuckler, that brigand, that kennel-bred beast of a sbirro!"

"Gonzaga! You would dare!"

"Dare?" he mocked her, beside himself with passion. "Is it you who speakof daring--you, the niece of Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, a lady of thenoble and illustrious house of Rovere, who cast yourself into the armsof a low-born vassal such as that, a masnadiero, a bandit, a bravo?And can you yet speak of daring, and take that tone with me, when shameshould strike you either dead or dumb?"

"Gonzaga, " she answered him, her face as white as his own, but her voicesteady and hard with anger, "leave me now--upon the instant, or I willhave you flogged--flogged to the bone. "

A moment he stared at her like a man dazed. Then he tossed his armsto Heaven, and letting them fall heavily to his sides, he shrugged hisshoulders and laughed evilly. But of going he made no shift. 

"Call your men, " he answered her, in a choking voice. "Do your will onme. Flog me to the bone or to the death--let that be the reward of allthat I have done, all that I have risked, all that I have sacrificed toserve you. It were of a piece with your other actions. "

Her eyes sought his in the gloom, her bosom heaving wildly in herendeavours to master herself before she spoke. 

"Messer Gonzaga, " said she at last, "I'll not deny that you served mefaithfully in the matter of my escape from Urbino----"

"Why speak of it?" he sneered. "It was a service of which you but availyourself until another offered on whom you might bestow your favour andthe supreme command of your fortress. Why speak of it?"

"To show you that the service you allude to is now paid, " she ripostedsternly. "By reproaching me you have taken payment, and by insulting meyou have stamped out my gratitude. "

"A most convenient logic yours, " he mocked. "I am cast aside like anoutworn garment, and the garment is accounted paid for because throughmuch hard usage it has come to look a little threadbare. "

And now it entered her mind that perhaps there was some justice in whathe said. Perhaps she had used him a little hardly. 

"Do you think, Gonzaga, " she said, and her tone was now a shade moregentle, "that because you have served me you may affront me, and thatknight who has served me, also, and----"

"In what can such service as his compare with mine? What has he donethat I have not done more?"

"Why, when the men rebelled here----"

"Bah! Cite me not that. Body of God! it is his trade to lead such swine. He is one of themselves. But for the rest, what has such a man as thisto lose by his share in your rebellion, compared with such a loss asmine must be?"

"Why, if things go ill, I take it he may lose his life, " she answered, in a low voice. "Can you lose more?"

He made a gesture of impatience. 

"If things go ill--yes. It may cost him dearly. But if they go well, and this siege is raised, he has nothing more to fear. Mine is a parlouscase. However ends this siege, for me there will be no escape from thevengeance of Gian Maria and Guidobaldo. They know my share in it. Theyknow that your action was helped by me, and that without me you couldnever have equipped yourself for such resistance. Whatever may betideyou and this Ser Franceseo, for me there will be no escape. "

She drew a deep breath, then set him the obvious question:

"Did you not consider it--did you not weigh these chances--before youembarked upon this business, before you, yourself, urged me to thisstep?"

"Aye, did I, " he answered sullenly. 

"Then, why these complaints now?"

He was singularly, madly frank with her in his reply. He told her thathe had done it because he loved her, because she had given him signsthat his love was not in vain. 

"I gave you signs?" she interrupted him. "Mother in Heaven! Recite thesesigns that I may know them. "

"Were you not ever kind to me?" he demanded. "Did you not ever manifesta liking for my company? Were you not ever pleased that I should singto you the songs that in your honour I had made? Was it not to me youturned in the hour of your need?"

"See now how poor a thing you are, Gonzaga?" she answered witheringly. "A woman may not smile on you, may not give you a kind word, may notsuffer you to sing to her, but you must conclude she is enamoured ofyou. And if I turned to you in my hour of need, as you remind me, needsthat be a sign of my infatuation? Does every cavalier so think whena helpless woman turns to him in her distress? But even so, " shecontinued, "how should all that diminish the peril you now talk of?Even were your suit with me to prosper, would that make you any the lessRomeo Gonzaga, the butt of the anger of my uncle and Gian Maria? Ratherdo I think that it should make you more. "

But he disillusioned her. He did not scruple, in his angry mood, to laybefore her his reasonings that as her husband he would be screened. 

She laughed aloud at that. 

"And so it is by such sophistries as these that your presumption came tolife?"

That stung him. Quivering with the passion that obsessed him, he steppedclose up to her. 

"Tell me, Madonna--why shall we account presumption in Romeo Gonzaga asuit that in a nameless adventurer we encourage?" he asked, his voicethick and tremulous. 

"Have a care, " she bade him. 

"A care of what?" he flashed back. "Answer me, Monna Valentina. Am Iso base a man that by the very thought of love for you I must presume, whilst you can give yourself into the arms of this swashbuckling bravo, and take his kisses? Your reasoning sorts ill with your deeds. "

"Craven!" she answered him. "Dog that you are!" And before the blaze ofpassion in her eyes he recoiled, his courage faltering. She cropped heranger in mid-career, and in a dangerously calm voice she bade him seeto it that by morning he was no longer in Roccaleone. "Profit by thenight, " she counselled him, "and escape the vigilance of Gian Maria asbest you can. Here you shall not stay. "

At that a great fear took possession of him, putting to flight the lastremnant of his anger. Nor fear alone was it, to do him full justice. Itwas also the realisation that if he would take payment from her for thistreatment of him, if he would slake his vengeance, he must stay. Oneplan had failed him. But his mind was fertile, and he might deviseanother that might succeed and place Gian Maria in Roccaleone. Thusshould he be amply venged. She was turning away, having pronounced hisbanishment, but he sprang after her, and upon his knees he now besoughther piteously to hear him yet awhile. 

And she, regretting her already of her harshness, and thinking thatperhaps in his jealousy he had been scarce responsible for what he hadsaid, stood still to hear him. 

"Not that, not that, Madonna, " he wailed, his tone suggesting theimminence of tears. "Do not send me away. If die I must, let me die hereat Roccaleone, helping the defence to my last breath. But do not cast meout to fall into the hands of Gian Maria. He will hang me for my sharein this business. Do not requite me thus, Madonna. You owe me a little, surely, and if I was mad when I talked to you just now, it was love ofyou that drove me--love of you and suspicion of that man of whom none ofus know anything. Madonna, be pitiful a little. Suffer me to remain. "

She looked down at him, her mind swayed between pity and contempt. Thenpity won the day in the wayward but ever gentle heart of Valentina. Shebade him rise. 

"And go, Gonzaga. Get you to bed, and sleep you into a saner frame ofmind. We will forget all this that you have said, so that you neverspeak of it again--nor of this love you say you bear me. "

The hypocrite caught the hem of her cloak, and bore it to his lips. 

"May God keep your heart ever as pure and noble and forgiving, " hemurmured brokenly. "I know how little I am deserving of your clemency. But I shall repay you, Madonna, " he protested--and truly meant it, though not in the sense it seemed. 

CHAPTER XXI. THE PENITENT

A week passed peacefully at Roccaleone; so peacefully that it wasdifficult to conceive that out there in the plain sat Gian Maria withhis five-score men besieging them. 

This inaction fretted the Count of Aquila, as did the lack of news fromFanfulla; and he wondered vaguely what might be taking place at Babbianothat Gian Maria should be content to sit idly before them, as though hehad months at his disposal in which to starve them into yielding. Themystery would have been dispelled had he known that he had Gonzaga tothank for this singular patience of Gian Maria's. For the courtier hadfound occasion to send another letter-carrying shaft into the Duke'scamp, informing him of how and why the last plot had failed, and urgingGian Maria to wait and trust in him to devise a better scheme fordelivering the castle into his power. He had promised boldly andconfidently enough, and Gian Maria--facts showed--had trusted to thatpromise of his, and awaited its fulfilment. But tax his mind though hedid incessantly, no inspiration came to him, no scheme suggested itselfby which he might accomplish his treacherous purpose. 

He employed the time cunningly to win back Valentina's favour andconfidence. On the morning after his stormy interview with Guidobaldo'sniece, he had confessed himself to Fra Domenico, and approached theSacrament. Every morning thereafter he appeared at Mass, and by thepiety and fervour of his devotions became an example to all the others. Now this was not lost on Valentina, who was convent-bred, and in ameasure devout. She read in this singular alteration of his ways theundoubtable indication of an altered character. That he had approachedthe Sacrament on the morning after his wild words to her, she tookto mean that he repented him the viciousness of the animosity hehad entertained that he continued so extremely devout thereafter sheconstrued into meaning that his repentance was sincere and persistent. 

And so she came to ask herself whether, indeed, he had not been as muchsinned against as sinning, and she ended by assuring herself that in ameasure the fault was hers. Seeing him so penitent, and concluding fromit that he was not likely to transgress again, she readmitted him to herfavour, and, little by little, the old friendly state was re-establishedand was the sounder, perhaps, by virtue of her confidence that afterwhat had passed he would not again misunderstand her. 

He did not, nor did he again allow his optimism and ever-ready vanity tocozen him with false hopes. He read her with exact precision, and whilstthe reading but served to embitter him the more and render him moresteadfast in his vengeful purpose, it, nevertheless, made him smile themore sweetly and fawn the more obsequiously. 

And not content with this, he did not limit his sycophancy to Valentina, but sought also by a smiling persistence to ingratiate himselfwith Francesco. No voice in Roccaleone--not even that of the bullyErcole--was raised more often or more enthusiastically to praise andglorify their Provost. Valentina, observing this, and accepting it asanother sign of his contrition for the past and purpose of amendmentfor the future, grew yet more cordial towards him. He was not lacking inastuteness, this pretty Ser Romeo, nor in knowledge of a woman's heart, and the apprehension of the fact that there is no flattery she prefersto that which has for object the man she loves. 

Thus did Gonzaga conquer the confidence and esteem of all during thatpeaceful week. He seemed a changed man, and all save Peppe saw in thischange a matter for increased trust and friendship towards him. But theastute fool looked on and pondered. Such transformations as these werenot effected in a night. He was no believer in any human chrysalis thatshall make of the grub of yesterday the butterfly of to-day. And so, inthis fawning, smiling, subservient Gonzaga, he saw nothing but an objectof mistrust, a fellow to be watched with the utmost vigilance. To thisvigilance the hunchback applied himself with a zeal born of his cordialdetestation of the courtier. But Gonzaga, aware of the fool's mistrustand watchfulness, contrived for once to elude him, and to get a letterto Gian Maria setting forth the ingenious plan he had hatched. 

The notion had come to him that Sunday at Mass. On all sanctified daysit was Monna Valentina's way to insist that the entire garrison, withthe exception of one single sentinel--and this only at Francesco's veryearnest urging--should attend the morning service. Like an inspirationit came to him that such a half-hour as that would be a most opportuneseason in which to throw open the gates of Roccaleone to the besiegers. The following Wednesday was the feast of Corpus Christi. Then would behis opportunity. 

Kneeling there, with head bent in ecstatic devotion, he matured histreacherous plan. The single sentry he could suborn, or else--if briberyfailed--poniard. He realised that single-handed he might not lower thecumbrous drawbridge, nor would it be wise, even if possible, for thenoise of it might give the alarm. But there was the postern. Gian Mariamust construct him a light, portable bridge, and have it in readinessto span the moat and silently pour his soldiers into the castle throughthat little gate. 

And so, the plot matured and every detail clear, he got him to hischamber and penned the letter that was to rejoice the heart of GianMaria. He chose a favourable moment to despatch it, as he had despatchedthe former ones, tied about the quarrel of an arbalest, and he saw GianMaria's signal--for which the letter had provided--that the plan wouldbe adopted. Humming a gay measure, jubilant at the prospect of seeinghimself so amply avenged, Gonzaga passed down and out into the castlegardens to join the ladies in their merry-making over a game of hoodmanblind. 

Now, however much the Duke of Babbiano may have congratulated himselfupon the ally he possessed in Gonzaga, and the cunning scheme the latterhad devised for placing him in possession of Roccaleone, there camenews to him on the morrow that caused him to rejoice a hundredfold morefervently. His subjects of Babbiano were in a condition approaching openrebellion, resulting from the disquieting rumours that Caesar Borgia wasarming at Rome for a decent upon the Duchy, and the continued absence ofGian Maria in such a season, upon a wooing that they deemed ill-timed. Astrong party had been formed, and the leaders had nailed upon the Palacegates a proclamation that, unless Gian Maria returned within three daysto organise the defence of Babbiano, they would depose him and repair toAquila to invite his cousin, Francesco del Falco--whose patriotism andmilitary skill were known to all--to assume the crown of Babbiano andprotect them. 

At the news, and upon reading the proclamation, which Alvari had broughtwith him, Gian Maria flew into one of those fits of rage that made hisname a byword in Babbiano. Presently, however, he cooled. Therewas Gonzaga yonder, who had promised to admit him to Roccaleone onWednesday. That left him time to first possess himself of his reluctantbride, and then ride hard to Babbiano, to arrive there before the expiryof the three days' grace his subjects gave him. 

He conferred with Guidobaldo, and urged that a priest should be inwaiting to wed them so soon as he should have brought her out of thefortress. Upon that detail they were within an ace of quarrelling. Guidobaldo would not at first agree to such hasty nuptials; they wereunfitting the dignity and the station of his niece, and if Gian Mariawould wed her he must come to Urbino and let the ceremony be performedby a cardinal. Well was it then for Gian Maria that he mastered hiswonted hastiness and curbed the hot, defiant retort that rose to hislips. Had he done so, an enduring rupture between them would probablyhave ensued; for Guidobaldo was not one to permit himself to behectored, and, after all, he amply realised that Gian Maria had moreneed of him than he of Gian Maria. And this in that moment the Duke ofBabbiano realised too, and realising it he set himself to pleadwhere otherwise he might have demanded, to beg as a favour thatwhich otherwise he might have commanded with a threat. And so he wonGuidobaldo--although reluctant--to his wishes in the matter, and inhis good-nature the Duke of Urbino consented to pocket the dignity thatprompted him to see the ceremony performed with princely pomp. 

This being settled, Gian Maria blessed Gonzaga who rendered it allpossible, and came most opportunely to his aid where without him heshould have been forced to resort to cannon and bloodshed. 

With Gonzaga the only shadow of doubt that remained to mar the perfectcertainty of his success lay in his appreciation of Francesco's daringcharacter and resourceful mind, and now as if the gods were eager tofavour him to the very last degree--a strange weapon to combat this wasunexpectedly thrust into his hand. 

It happened that Alvari was not the only messenger who travelled thatday to Roccaleone. There followed him by some hours, the Count ofAquila's servant, Zaccaria, who rode hard and reached the approaches ofthe castle by sunset. His destination being the fortress itself, he wasforced to wait in the woods until night had fallen, and even then hismission was fraught with peril. 

It befell that somewhere near the second hour of night, the moon beingovercast at the time--for there were threats of a storm in the sky--thesentinel on the eastern wall heard a sound of splashing in the moatbelow, accompanied by the stertorous breathing of a swimmer whose mouthis not well above water. He challenged the sound, but receiving no replyhe turned to go and give the alarm, and ran into the arms of Gonzaga, who had come up to take the air. 

"Illustrious, " he exclaimed, "there is someone swimming the moat. "

"Eh?" cried Gonzaga, a hundred suspicions of Gian Maria running throughhis mind. "Treachery?"

"It is what I thought. "

Gonzaga took the man by the sleeve of his doublet, and drew him back tothe parapet. They peered over, and from out of the blackness they werehailed by a faint "Olį!"

"Who goes there?" demanded Romeo. 

"A friend, " came the answer softly. "A messenger from Babbiano withletters for the Lord Count of Aquila. Throw me a rope, friends, before Idrown in this trough. "

"You rave, fool!" answered him Gonzaga. "We have no counts atRoccaleone. "

"Surely, sir sentinel, " replied the voice, "my master, Messer Francescodel Falco, is here. Throw me a rope, I say. "

"Messer Fran----" began Gonzaga. Then he made a noise like a manchoking. It was as if a sudden light of revelation had flooded hisbrain. "Get a rope, " he harshly bade the sentry. "In the armoury yard. Despatch, fool!" he added sharply, now fearing interruption. 

In a moment the man was back, and the rope was lowered to the visitorbelow. A few seconds later Zaccaria stood on the ramparts of Roccaleone, the water dripping from his sodden garments, and gathering in a poolabout his feet. 

"This way, " said Gonzaga, leading the man towards the armoury tower, where a lanthorn was burning. By the light of it he surveyed thenewcomer, and bade the sentry close the door and remain within call, without. 

Zaccaria looked startled at the order. This was scarcely the receptionhe had expected after so imperilling his life to reach the castle withhis letter. 

"Where is my lord?" he inquired, through teeth that chattered fromthe cold of his immersion, wondering vaguely who this very magnificentgentleman might be. 

"Is Messer Francesco del Falco your lord?" asked Romeo. 

"He is, sir. I have had the honour to serve him these ten years. I bringhim letters from Messer Fanfulla degli Arcipreti. They are very urgent. Will you lead me to him?"

"You are very wet, " murmured Gonzaga solicitously. "You will take yourdeath from cold, and the death of a man so brave as to have found a waythrough Gian Maria's lines were truly deplorable. " He stepped to thedoor. "Olį!" he called to the sentry. "Take this brave fellow up thereand find him a change of raiment. " He pointed to the upper chamber ofthe tower, where, indeed, such things were stored. 

"But my letters, sir!" cried Zaccaria impatiently. "They are veryurgent, and hours have I wasted already in waiting for the night. "

"Surely you can wait until you have changed your garments? Your life, Itake it, is of more account than the loss of a few moments. "

"But my orders from Messer degli Arcipreti were that I must not lose aninstant. "

"Oh, si, si!" cried Gonzaga, with a show of good-tempered impatience. "Give me the letters, then, and I will take them to the Count while youare stripping those wet clothes. "

Zaccaria eyed him a moment in doubt. But he looked so harmless in hisfinery, and the expression of his comely face was so winning and honest, that the man's hesitancy faded as soon as it sprang up. Removing hiscap, he drew from within the crown the letter, which he had placed thereto keep dry. This package he now handed to Gonzaga, who, with a finalword of instruction to the sentry touching the finding of raiment forthe messenger, stepped out to go his errand. But outside the door hepaused, and called the sentry to him again. 

"Here is a ducat for you, " he whispered. "Do my bidding and you shallhave more. Detain him in the tower till I return, and on no account lethim be seen or heard by anyone. "

"Yes, Excellency, " the man replied. "But what if the captain comes andfinds me absent from my post?"

"I will provide for that. I will tell Messer Fortemani that I haveemployed you on a special matter, and ask him to replace you. You aredispensed sentry duty for to-night. "

The man bowed, and quietly withdrew to attend to his prisoner, for inthat light he now regarded Zaccaria. 

Gonzaga sought Fortemani in the guard-room below, and did as he hadpromised the sentry. 

"But, " snapped Ercole, reddening, "by whose authority have you donethis? By what right do you send sentinels on missions of your own?Christo Santo! Is the castle to be invaded while you send my watchmen tofetch your comfit­box or a book of verses?"

"You will remember----" began Romeo, with an air of overwhelmingdignity. 

"Devil take you and him that sent you!" broke in the bully. "The MesserProvost shall hear of this. "

"On no account, " cried Gonzaga, now passing from anger to alarm, andsnatching the skirts of Fortemani's cloak as the captain was in the actof going out to execute his threat. "Ser Ercole be reasonable, I begof you. Are we to alarm the castle and disturb Monna Valentina over atrumpery affair such as this? Man, they will laugh at you. "

"Eh?" There was nothing Ercole relished less than to be laughed at. Hepondered a moment, and it occurred to him that perhaps he was makingmuch of nothing. Then:

"You, Aventano, " he called, "take your partisan, and patrol the easternrampart. There, Messer Gonzaga, I have obeyed your wishes; but MesserFrancesco shall hear of it when he comes his rounds. "

Gonzaga left him. Francesco would not make his rounds for another hour, and by then it would not matter what Fortemani told him. In one way oranother he would be able to account for his action. 

He crossed the courtyard, and mounted the steps leading to his ownchamber. Once there, he closed and barred the door. He kindled a light, and flinging the letter on the table, he sat and contemplated itsexterior and the great red seal that gleamed in the yellow light of histaper. 

So! This knight-errant, this man whom he had accounted a low-born hind, was none other than the famous Count of Aquila, the well-beloved of thepeople of Babbiano, the beau-ideal of all military folk from Sicily tothe Alps. And he had never suspected it! Dull-witted did he now accounthimself. Enough descriptions had he heard of that famous condottiero, that mirror of Italian chivalry. He might have known that there didnot live two men of such commanding ways as he had seen instanced atRoccaleone. What was his object there? Was it love of Valentina, or wasit----? He paused, as in his mind he made a swift review of the politicsof Babbiano. A sudden possibility occurred to him that made his eyessparkle and his hands tremble with eagerness. Was this but a politicalscheme to undermine his cousin's throne, to which Gonzaga had heard itrumoured that Francesco del Falco was an aspirant? If it were so, what avengeance would be his to unmask him! How it must humble Valentina! Theletter lay before him. Within it the true facts would be disclosed. Whatdid his friend Fanfulla write him?

He took the letter up and made a close inspection of the seal. Thensoftly, quietly, slowly he drew his dagger. If his suspicions wereunfounded, his dagger heated in the taper should afford him the means toconceal the fact that he had tampered with that missive. He slipped hisblade under the seal, and worked it cautiously until it came up and setthe letter open. He unfolded it, and as he read his eyes dilated. Heseemed to crouch on his chair, and the hand that held the paper shook. He drew the candle nearer, and shading his eyes he read it again, wordfor word:

"MY DEAR LORD COUNT, --I have delayed writing until the time when thesigns I observed should have become more definite, as they have nowdone, so that I may delay no longer. This, then, goes by the hand ofZaccaria, to tell you that to-day has word been sent Gian Maria givinghim three days in which to return to Babbiano, or to abandon all hopeof his crown, of which the people will send the offer then to you atAquila, where you are believed to be. So now, my dear lord, you have thetyrant at your mercy, tossed between Scylla and Charybdis. Yours it isto resolve how you will act; but I rejoice in being the one to send youword that your presence at Roccaleone and your stubborn defence ofthe fortress has not been vain, and that presently you are to reap thewell-earned reward of it. The people have been stirred to this extremeaction by the confusion prevailing here. 

"News has reached us that Caesar Borgia is arming, at Rome, a condottato invade Babbiano, and the people are exasperated at Gian Maria'scontinued absence in such a season. They are short-sighted in this, forthey overlook the results that must attend the alliance with Urbino. MayGod protect and prosper your Excellency, whose most devoted servant is

"FANFULLA DEGLI AROIPRETI. "

CHAPTER XXII. A REVELATION

"Francesco, " said Valentina, and the name came from her lips as if itwere an endearment, "why that frowning, care­worn look?"

They were in the dining-room alone, where the others had left them, andthey were still seated at the table at which they had supped. Francescoraised his dark, thoughtful eyes, and as they lighted now on Valentinathe thoughtfulness that was in them gave place to tenderness. 

"I am fretted by this lack of news, " he acknowledged. "I would I knewwhat is being done in Babbiano. I had thought that ere now Caesar Borgiahad stirred Gian Maria's subjects into some manner of action. I would Iknew!"

She rose, and coming close to him, she stood with one hand resting uponhis shoulder, her eyes smiling down upon his upturned face. 

"And shall such a trifle fret you--you who professed a week ago that youwould this siege might last for ever?"

"Account me not fickle, anima mia, " he answered her, and he kissed theivory fingers that rested on his shoulder. "For that was before theworld changed for me at the magic of your bidding. And so, " he repeated, "I would I knew what is toward at Babbiano!"

"But why sigh over a wish so idle?" she exclaimed. "By what means cannews reach you here of the happenings of the world without?"

He pondered a moment, seeking words in which to answer her. A score oftimes during that week had he been on the point of disclosing himself, of telling her who and what he was. Yet ever had he hesitated, puttingoff that disclosure until the season should appear more fitting. This henow considered the present. She trusted him, and there was no reason toremain silent longer. Perhaps already he had delayed too long, and so hewas about to speak when she started from his side, and crossed hastilyto the window, alarmed by the sound of approaching steps. A second laterthe door opened, and Gonzaga appeared. 

A moment he hesitated in the doorway, looking from one to the other, andFrancesco, lazily regarding him in his turn, noted that his cheeks werepale and that his eyes glittered like those of a man with the fever. Then he stepped forward, and, leaving the door open behind him, headvanced into the room. 

"Monna Valentina, I have something to communicate to you. " His voiceshook slightly. "Messer--Francesco, will you give us leave?" And hisfeverish eyes moved to the open door with an eloquence that asked nowords. 

Francesco rose slowly, endeavouring to repress his surprise and glancedacross at Valentina, as if awaiting her confirmation or refusal of thisrequest that he should leave them. 

"A communication for me?" she marvelled, a slight frown drawing herbrows together. "Of what nature, sir?"

"Of a nature as important as it is private. "

She raised her chin, and with a patient smile she seemed to beg ofFrancesco that he would suffer her to humour this mood of Gonzaga's. Inquick obedience Francesco inclined his head. 

"I shall be in my chamber until the hour of my rounds, Madonna, " heannounced, and with that took his departure. 

Gonzaga attended him to the door, which he closed after him, andcomposing his features to an expression of sorrowing indignation, hecame back and stood facing Valentina across the table. 

"Madonna, " he said, "I would to Heaven this communication I have to maketo you came from other lips. In the light of what has passed--here atRoccaleone--through my folly--you--you may think my mission charged withvindictiveness. "

Perplexity stared at him from her eyes. 

"You fill me with alarm, my good Gonzaga, " she answered him, thoughsmiling. 

"Alas it has fallen to my unfortunate lot to do more than that. I havemade the discovery of as foul a piece of treachery here in your fortressas ever traitor hatched. "

She looked at him more seriously now. The vehemence of his tone, and thesuggestion of sorrow that ran through it and gave it so frank an accent, commanded her attention. 

"Treachery!" she echoed, in a low voice, her eyes dilating. "And fromwhom?"

He hesitated a moment, then waving his hand:

"Will you not sit, Madonna?" he suggested nervously. 

Mechanically she seated herself at the table, her eyes ever on his face, alarm spreading in her heart, born of suspense. 

"Be seated too, " she bade him, "and tell me. "

He drew up a chair, sat down opposite to her, and taking a deep breath:"Heard you ever of the Count of Aquila?" he inquired. 

"It were odd if I had not. The most valiant knight in Italy, fame dubshim. "

His eyes were intently on her face, and what he saw there satisfied him. 

"You know how he stands with the people of Babbiano?"

"I know that he is beloved of them. "

"And do you know that he is a pretender to the throne of Babbiano? Youwill remember that he is cousin to Gian Maria?"

"His relationship to Gian Maria I know. That he pretends to the throneof Babbiano I was not aware. But whither are we straying?"

"We are not straying, Madonna, " answered Gonzaga, "we are making astraight line for the very heart and soul of this treachery I spoke of. Would you believe me if I told you that here, in Roccaleone, we havean agent of the Count of Aquila one who in the Count's interest isprotracting this siege with the pretended aim of driving Gian Mariaoff. "

"Gonzaga----" she began, more than half guessing the drift of hisexplanation. But he interrupted her with unusual brusqueness. 

"Wait, Madonna, " he cried, his eyes upon her face, his hand imperiouslyraised. "Hear me out in patience. I am not talking idly. Of what I tellyou I am armed with proof and witness. Such an agent of--of the Count'sinterests we have among us, and his true object in protracting thissiege, and encouraging and aiding you in your resistance, is to outwearthe patience of the people of Babbiano with Gian Maria, and drive themin the hour of their approaching peril from Caesar Borgia's armies tobestow the throne on Aquila. "

"Where learnt you this foul lie?" she asked him, her cheeks crimson, hereyes on fire. 

"Madonna, " he said, in a patient voice, "this that you call a lie isalready an accomplished fact. I am not laying before you the fruits ofidle speculation. I have upon me the most positive proof that sucha result as was hoped for has already been reached. Gian Maria hasreceived from his subjects a notification that unless he is in hiscapital within three days from this, they will invest the Lord of Aquilawith the ducal crown. "

She rose, her anger well controlled, her voice calm. 

"Where is this proof? No, no; I don't need to see it. Whatever it is, what shall it prove to me? That your words, in so far as the politicsof Babbiano are concerned, may be true; our resistance of Gian Maria mayindeed be losing him his throne and doing good service to the cause ofthe Count of Aquila; but how shall all this prove that lie of yours, that Messer Francesco--for it is clearly of him you speak--that MesserFrancesco should be this agent of the Count's? It is a lie, Gonzaga, forwhich you shall be punished as you deserve. "

She ceased, and stood awaiting his reply, and as she watched him hiscalm demeanour struck a chill into her heart. He was so confident, sofull of assurance; and that, in Gonzaga, she had learnt to know meant astrong bulwark 'twixt himself and danger. He sighed profoundly. 

"Madonna, these cruel words of yours do not wound me, since they areno more than I expected. But it will wound me--and sorely--if when youshall have learnt the rest you do not humbly acknowledge how you havewronged me, how grossly you have misjudged me. You think I come toyou with evil in my heart, urged by a spirit of vindictiveness againstMesser Francesco. Instead, I come to you with nothing but a profoundsorrow that mine must be the voice to disillusion you, and a deepindignation against him that has so foully used you to his own ends. Wait, Madonna! In a measure you are right. It was not strictly true tosay that this Messer Francesco is the agent of the Count of Aquila. "

"Ah! You are recanting already?"

"Only a little--an insignificant little. He is no agent because----" Hehesitated, and glanced swiftly up. Then he sighed, lowered his voice, and with consummately simulated sorrow, he concluded "Because he is, himself, Francesco del Falco. Count of Aquila. "

She swayed a moment, and the colour died from her cheeks, leaving themivory pale. She leaned heavily against the table, and turned over in hermind what she had heard. And then, as suddenly as it had gone, the bloodrushed back into her face, mounting to her very temples. 

"It's a lie!" she blazed at him; "a lie for which you shall be whipped. "

He shrugged his shoulders, and cast Francesco's letter on to the table. 

"There, Madonna, is something that will prove all that I have said. "

She eyed the paper coldly. Her first impulse was to call Fortemani andcarry out her threat of having Gonzaga whipped, refusing so much as tosee this thing that he so confidently termed a proof; but it may be thathis confidence wrought upon her, touching a chord of feminine curiosity. That he was wrong she never doubted; but that he believed himself rightshe was also assured, and she wondered what this thing might be thathad so convinced him. Still she did not touch it, but asked in anindifferent voice:

"What is it?"

"A letter that was brought hither to-night by a man who swam the moat, and whom I have ordered to be detained in the armoury tower. It is fromFanfulla degli Arcipreti to the Count of Aquila. If your memory willbear you back to a certain day at Acquasparta, you may recall thatFanfulla was the name of a very gallant cavalier who addressed thisMesser Francesco with marked respect. "

She took that backward mental glance he bade her, and remembered. Thenshe remembered, too, how that very evening Francesco had said that hewas fretting for news of Babbiano, and that when she had asked howhe hoped that news could reach him at Roccaleone, Gonzaga had enteredbefore he answered her. Indeed, he had seemed to hesitate upon thatanswer. A sudden chill encompassed her at that reflection. Oh, it wasimpossible, absurd! And yet she took the letter from the table. Withknit brows she read it, whilst Gonzaga watched her, scarce able to keepthe satisfaction from gleaming in his eyes. 

She read it slowly, and as she read her face grew deathly pale. Whenshe had finished she stood silent for a long minute, her eyes uponthe signature and her mind harking back to what Gonzaga had said, anddrawing comparison between that and such things as had been doneand uttered, and nowhere did she find the slightest gleam of thatdiscrepancy which so ardently she sought. 

It was as if a hand were crushing the heart in her bosom. This man whomshe had trusted, this peerless champion of her cause, to be nothing buta self-seeker, an intriguer, who, to advance his own ends, had made apawn of her. She thought of how for a moment he had held her in his armsand kissed her, and at that her whole soul revolted against the notionthat here was no more than treachery. 

"It's all a plot against him!" she cried, her cheeks scarlet again. "It's an infamous thing of your devising, Messer Gonzaga, an odiouslie!"

"Madonna, the man that brought the letter is still detained. Confronthim with Messer Francesco; or apply the question to him, and learnhis master's true name and station. As for the rest, if that letter isinsufficient proof for you, I beg that you will look back at facts. Whyshould he lie to you? and say that his name was Francesco Franceschi?Why should he have urged you--against all reason--to remain here, whenhe brought you news that Gian Maria was advancing? Surely had he butsought to serve you he had better accomplished this by placing his owncastle of Aquila at your disposal, and leaving here an empty nest forGian Maria, as I urged. "

She sank to a chair, a fever in her mind. 

"I tell you, Madonna, there is no mistake. What I have said is true. Another three days would he have held Gian Maria here, whilst if yougave him that letter, it is odds he would slip away in the night ofto-morrow, that he might be in Babbiano on the third day to take thethrone his cousin treats so lightly. Sainted God!" he cried out. "Ithink this is the most diabolically treacherous plot that ever mind ofman conceived and human heartlessness executed. "

"But--but----" she faltered, "all this is presupposing that MesserFrancesco is indeed the Count of Aquila. May there--may it not be thatthis letter was meant for some other destination?"

"Will you confront this messenger with the Count?"

"With the Count?" she inquired dully. "With Messer Francesco, you mean?"She shuddered, and with strange inconsistence: "No, " she said, in achoking voice, her lip twisting oddly at the corner. "I do not wish tosee his face again. "

A light gleamed in Gonzaga's eye, and was extinguished on the instant. 

"Best make certain, " he suggested, rising. "I have ordered Fortemanito bring Lanciotto here. He will be waiting now, without. Shall I admitthem?"

She nodded without speaking, and Gonzaga opened the door, and calledFortemani. A voice answered him from the gloom of the banqueting-hall. 

"Bring Lanciotto here, " he commanded. 

When Francesco's servant entered, a look of surprise on his face atthese mysterious proceedings, it was Valentina who questioned him, andthat in a voice as cold as though the issue concerned her no whit. 

"Tell me, sirrah, " she said, "and as you value your neck, see that youanswer me truly--what is your master's name?"

Lanciotto looked from her to Gonzaga, who stood by, a cynical curl onhis sensual lips. 

"Answer Monna Valentina, " the courtier urged him. "State your master'strue name and station. "

"But, lady, " began Lanciotto, bewildered. 

"Answer me!" she stormed, her small clenched hands beating the table inharsh impatience. And Lanciotto, seeing no help for it, answered:

"Messer Francesco del Falco, Count of Aquila. "

Something that began in a sob and ended in a laugh burst from the lipsof Valentina. Ercole's eyes were wide at the news, and he might havegone the length of interposing a question, when Gonzaga curtly badehim go to the armoury tower, and bring thence the soldier and the manGonzaga had left in his care. 

"I will leave no shadow of doubt in your mind, Madonna, " he said inexplanation. 

They waited in silence--for Lanciotto's presence hinderedconversation--until Ercole returned accompanied by the man-at-arms andZaccaria, who had now changed his raiment. Before they could questionthe new-comer, such questions as they might have put were answered bythe greeting that passed between him and his fellow-servant Lanciotto. 

Gonzaga turned to Valentina. She sat very still, her tawny head bowedand in her eyes a look of sore distress. And in that instant a briskstep sounded without. The door was thrust open, and Francesco himselfstood upon the threshold, with Peppe's alarmed face showing behind him. Gonzaga instinctively drew back a pace, and his countenance lost some ofits colour. 

At sight of Francesco, Zaccaria rushed forward and bowed profoundly. 

"My lord!" he greeted him. 

And if one little thing had been wanting to complete the evidenceagainst the Count, that thing, by an odd mischance, Francesco himselfseemed to supply. The strange group in that dining-room claiminghis attention, and the portentous air that hung about those present, confirmed the warning Peppe had brought him that something was amiss. He disregarded utterly his servant's greeting, and with eyes of aperplexity that may have worn the look of alarm he sought the face ofValentina. 

She rose upon the instant, an angry red colouring her cheeks. His veryglance, it seemed, was become an affront unbearable after what hadpassed--for the memory of his kiss bit like a poisoned fang intoher brain. An odd laugh broke from her. She made a gesture towardsFrancesco. 

"Fortemani, you will place the Count of Aquila under arrest, " shecommanded, in a stern, steady voice, "and as you value your life youwill see that he does not elude you. "

The great bully hesitated. His knowledge of Francesco's methods was notencouraging. 

"Madonna!" gasped Francesco, his bewilderment increasing. 

"Did you hear me, Fortemani, " she demanded. "Remove him. "

"My lord?" cried Lanciotto, laying hand to his sword his eyes upon hismaster's, ready to draw and lay about him at a glance of bidding. 

"Sh! Let be, " answered Franeesco coldly. "Here, Messer Fortemani. " Andhe proffered his dagger, the only weapon that he carried. 

Valentina, calling Gonzaga to attend her, made shift to quit theapartment. At that Francesco seemed to awaken to his position. 

"Madonna, wait, " he cried, and he stepped deliberately before her. "Youmust hear me. I have surrendered in earnest of my faith and confidentthat once you have heard me----"

"Captain Fortemani, " she cried, almost angrily, "will you restrain yourprisoner? I wish to pass. "

Ercole, with visible reluctance, laid a hand on Francesco's shoulder;but it was unnecessary. Before her words, the Count recoiled as ifhe had been struck. He stood clear of her path with a gasp at once ofunbelief and angry resignation. An instant his eyes rested on Gonzaga, so fiercely that the faint smile withered on the courtier's lips, andhis knees trembled under him as he hastened from the room in Valentina'swake. 

CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE ARMOURY TOWER

The rough stones of the inner courtyard shone clean and bright inthe morning sun, still wet with the heavy rains that had washed themyesternight. 

The fool sat on a rude stool within the porch of the long gallery, and, moodily eyeing that glistening pavement, ruminated. He was angry, which, saving where Fra Domenico was concerned, was a rare thing withgood-humoured Peppe. He had sought to reason with Monna Valentinatouching the imprisonment in his chamber of Messer Francesco, and shehad bidden him confine his attention to his capers with a harshnesshe had never known in her before. But he had braved her commands, andastonished her with the information that the true identity of thisMesser Francesco had been known to him since that day when they hadfirst met him at Acquasparta. He had meant to say more. He had meantto add the announcement of Francesco's banishment from Babbiano and hisnotorious unwillingness to mount his cousin's throne. He had meant tomake her understand that had Francesco been so minded, he had no needto stoop to such an act as this that she imputed to him. But she had cuthim short, and with angry words and angrier threats she had driven himfrom her presence. 

And so she was gone to Mass, and the fool had taken shelter in the porchof the gallery, that there he might vent some of his ill-humour--orindeed indulge it--in pondering the obtuseness of woman and theinsidiousness of Gonzaga, to whom he never doubted that this miserablestate of things was due. 

And as he sat there--a grotesque, misshapen figure in gaudy motley--anungovernable rage possessed him. What was to become of them now? Withoutthe Count of Aquila's stern support the garrison would have forced herto capitulate a week ago. What would betide, now that the restraint ofhis formidable command was withdrawn?

"She will know her folly when it's too late. It's the way of women, " heassured himself. And, loving his mistress as he did, his faithful soulwas stricken at the thought. He would wait there until she returned fromMass, and then she should hear him--all should hear him. He wouldnot permit himself to be driven away again so easily. He was intentlyturning over in his mind what he would say, with what startling, pregnant sentence he would compel attention, when he was startled bythe appearance of a figure on the chapel steps. Sudden and quietly as anapparition it came, but it bore the semblance of Romeo Gonzaga. 

At sight of him, Peppe instinctively drew back into the shadows of theporch, his eyes discerning the suspicious furtiveness of the courtier'smovements, and watching them with a grim eagerness. He saw Romeo lookcarefully about him, and then descend the steps on tiptoe, evidentlyso that no echo of his footfalls should reach those within the chapel. Then, never suspecting the presence of Peppe, he sped briskly across theyard and vanished through the archway that led to the outer court. Andthe fool, assured that some knowledge of the courtier's purpose wouldnot be amiss, set out to follow him. 

In his room under the Lion's Tower the Count of Aquila had spent arestless night, exercised by those same fears touching the fate ofthe castle that had beset the fool, but less readily attributing hisconfinement to Gonzaga's scheming. Zaccaria's presence had told him thatFanfulla must at last have written, and he could but assume that theletter, falling into Monna Valentina's hands, should have containedsomething that she construed into treason on his part. 

Bitterly he reproached himself now with not having from the very outsetbeen frank with her touching his identity; bitterly he reproached herwith not so much as giving a hearing to the man she had professed tolove. Had she but told him upon what grounds her suspicions against himhad been founded, he was assured that he could have dispelled them ata word, making clear their baselessness and his own honesty of purposetowards her. Most of all was he fretted by the fact that Zaccaria'spresence, after a coming so long expected and so long delayed, arguedthat the news he bore was momentous. From this it might result thatGian Maria should move at any moment and that his action might be of adesperate character. 

Now through the ranks of Fortemani's men there had run an inevitabledismay at Francesco's arrest, and a resentment against Valentina whohad encompassed it. His hand it was that had held them together, hisjudgment--of which they had had unequivocal signs--that had given themcourage. He was a leader who had shown himself capable of leading, andout of confidence for whom they would have undertaken anything thathe bade them. Whom had they now? Fortemani was but one of themselves, placed in command over them by an event purely adventitious. Gonzaga wasa fop whose capers they mimicked and whose wits they despised; whilstValentina, though brave enough and high-spirited, remained a girl of noworldly and less military knowledge, whose orders it might be suicidalto carry out. 

Now by none were these opinions more strongly entertained than byErcole Fortemani himself. Never had he performed anything with greaterreluctance than the apprehension of Francesco, and when he thought ofwhat was likely to follow his consternation knew no bounds. He had cometo respect and, in his rough way, even to love their masterful Provost, and since learning his true identity, in the hour of arresting him, hisadmiration had grown to something akin to reverence for the condottierowhose name to the men-at-arms of Italy was like the name of some patronsaint. 

To ensure the safe keeping of his captive, he had been ordered byGonzaga, who now resumed command of Roccaleone, to spend the night inthe ante-room of Francesco's chamber. These orders he had exceeded byspending a considerable portion of the night in the Count's very room. 

"You have but to speak, " the bully had sworn, by way of showingFrancesco the true nature of his feelings, "and the castle is yours. Ata word from you my men will flock to obey you, and you may do your willat Roccaleone. "

"Foul traitor that you are, " Francesco had laughed at him. "Do youforget under whom you have taken service? Let be what is, Ercole. Butif a favour you would do me, let me see Zaccaria--the man that came toRoccaleone to-night. "

This Ercole had done for him. Now Zaccaria was fully aware of thecontents of the letter he had carried, having been instructed byFanfulla against the chance arising of his being compelled, for hissafety, to destroy it--an expedient to which he now bitterly repentedhim that he had not had recourse. From Zaccaria, then, Francesco learntall that there was to learn, and since the knowledge but confirmed hisfears that Gian Maria would delay action no longer, he fell a prey tothe most passionate impatience at his own detention. 

In the grey hours of the morning he grew calmer, and by the light ofa lamp that he had called Ercole to replenish, he sat down to write aletter to Valentina, which he thought should carry conviction of hishonesty to her heart. Since she would not hear him, this was the onlycourse. At the end of an hour--his moribund light grown yellow now thatthe sun was risen--his letter was accomplished, and he summoned Ercoleagain, to charge him to deliver it at once to Monna Valentina. 

"I shall await her return from chapel, " answered Ercole. He took theletter and departed. As he emerged into the courtyard he was startled tosee the fool dash towards him, gasping for breath, and with excitementin every line of his quaint face. 

"Quickly, Ercole!" Peppe enjoined him. "Come with me. "

"Devil take you, spawn of Satan--whither?" growled the soldier. 

"I will tell you as we go. We have not a moment to spare. There istreachery afoot---- Gonzaga----" he gasped, and ended desperately: "Willyou come?"

Fortemani needed no second bidding. The chance of catching pretty MesserRomeo at a treachery was too sweet a lure. Snorting and puffing--forhard drinking had sorely impaired his wind--the great captain hurriedthe fool along, listening as they went to the gasps in which he broughtout his story. It was not much, after all. Peppe had seen Messer Gonzagarepair to the armoury tower. Through an arrow-slit he had watched himtake down and examine an arbalest, place it on the table and sit down towrite. 

"Well?" demanded Ercole. "What else?"

"Naught else. That is all, " answered the hunchback. 

"Heaven and hell!" roared the swashbuckler, coming to a standstill andglowering down upon his impatient companion. "And you have made me runfor this?"

"And is it not enough?" retorted Peppe testily. "Will you come on?"

"Not a foot farther, " returned the captain, getting very angry. "Is thisa miserable jest? What of the treachery you spoke of?"

"A letter and an arbalest!" panted the maddened Peppe, grimacinghorribly at this delay. "God, was there ever such a fool! Does this meannothing to that thick, empty thing you call a head? Have you forgottenhow Gian Maria's offer of a thousand florins came to Roccaleone? On anarbalest quarrel, stupid! Come on, I say, and afterwards you shall havemy motley--the only livery you have a right to wear. "

In the shock of enlightenment Ercole forgot to cuff the jester for hisinsolence, and allowed himself once more to be hurried along, across theouter court and up the steps that led to the battlements. 

"You think----" he began. 

"I think you had best tread more softly, " snapped the fool, under hisbreath, "and control that thunderous wheeze, if you would surprise SerRomeo. "

Ercole accepted the hint, meek as a lamb, and leaving the fool behindhim on the steps, he went softly up, and approached the armoury tower. Peering cautiously through the arrow-slit, and favoured by the fact thatGonzaga's back was towards him, he saw that he was no more than in time. 

The courtier was bending down, and by the creaking sound that reachedhim Ercole guessed his occupation to be the winding of the arbaleststring. On the table at his side lay a quarrel swathed in a sheet ofpaper. 

Swiftly and silently Ercole moved round the tower, and the next instanthe had pushed open the unfastened door and entered. 

A scream of terror greeted him, and a very startled face was turned uponhim by Gonzaga, who instantly sprang upright. Then, seeing who it was, the courtier's face reassumed some of its normal composure, but hisglance was uneasy and his cheek pale. 

"Sant Iddio!" he gasped. "You startled me, Ercole. I did not hear youcoming. "

And now something in the bully's face heightened the alarm in Gonzaga. He still made an effort at self-control, as planting himself betweenErcole and the table, so as to screen the tell-tale shaft, he asked himwhat he sought there. 

"That letter you have written Gian Maria, " was the gruff, uncompromisinganswer, for Ercole reeked nothing of diplomatic issues. 

Gonzaga's mouth jerked itself open, and his upper lip shuddered againsthis teeth. 

"What---- Wha----"

"Give me that letter, " Ercole insisted, now advancing upon him, andwearing an air of ferocity that drove back into Gonzaga's throat suchresentful words as he bethought him of. Then, like an animal at bay--andeven a rat will assert itself then--he swung aloft the heavy arbalest heheld, and stood barring Ercole's way. 

"Stand back!" he cried; "or by God and His saints, I'll beat your brainsout. "

There was a guttural laugh from the swashbuckler, and then his armswere round Gonzaga's shapely waist, and the popinjay was lifted from hisfeet. Viciously he brought down the cross-bow, as he had threatened; butit smote the empty air. The next instant Gonzaga was hurtled, bruised, into a corner of the tower. 

In a rage so great that he felt it draining him of his very strengthand choking the breath in his body, he made a movement to rise and flinghimself again upon his aggressor. But Fortemani was down upon him, andfor all his struggles contrived to turn him over on his face, twistinghis arms behind him, and making them fast with a belt that lay at hand. 

"Lie still, you scorpion!" growled the ruffler, breathing hard from hisexertions. He rose, took the shaft with the letter tied about it, readthe superscription--"To the High and Mighty Lord Gian Maria Sforza"--andwith a chuckle of mingled relish and scorn, he was gone, locking thedoor. 

Left alone, Gonzaga lay face downward where he had been flung, able todo little more than groan and sweat in the extremity of his despair, whilst he awaited the coming of those who would probably make an end ofhim. Not even from Valentina could he hope for mercy, so incriminatingwas the note he had penned. His letter was to enjoin the Duke to holdhis men in readiness at the hour of the Angelus next morning, and towait until Gonzaga should wave a handkerchief from the battlements. Atthat he was to advance immediately to the postern, which he would findopen, and the rest, Gonzaga promised him, would be easy. He would takethe whole garrison at their prayers and weaponless. 

When Francesco read it a light leapt to his eye and an oath to hislips; but neither glance nor oath were of execration, as Ercole stoodexpecting. A sudden idea flashed through the Count's mind, so strangeand humorous and yet so full of promise of easy accomplishment, that heburst into a laugh. 

"Now may God bless this fool for the most opportune of traitors!" heexclaimed, in surprise at which Fortemani's mouth fell open, and theeyes of Peppe grew very round. 

"Ercole, my friend, here is a bait to trap that lout my cousin, such asI could never have devised myself. "

"You mean----?"

"Take it back to him, " cried the Count, holding out the letter with ahand that trembled in the eagerness of his spirit. "Take it back, andget him by fair means or foul to shoot it as he intended; or if herefuses, why, then, do you seal it up and shoot it yourself. But seethat it gets to Gian Maria!"

"May I not know what you intend?" quoth the bewildered Ercole. 

"All in good time, my friend. First do my bidding with that letter. Listen! It were best that having read it you agree to join him in hisbetrayal of Roccaleone, your own fears as to the ultimate fate awaitingyou at Gian Maria's hands being aroused. Urge him to promise you money, immunity, what you will, as your reward; but make him believe yousincere, and induce him to shoot his precious bolt. Now go! Lose notime, or they may be returning from chapel, and your opportunity willbe lost. Come to me here, afterwards, and I will tell you what is in mymind. We shall have a busy night of it to-night, Ercole, and you mustset me free when the others are abed. Now go!"

Ercole went, and Peppe, remaining, plagued the Count with questionswhich he answered until in the end the fool caught the drift of hisscheme, and swore impudently that a greater jester than his Excellencydid not live. Then Ercole returned. 

"Is it done? Has the letter gone?" cried Francesco. Fortemani nodded. 

"We are sworn brothers in this business, he and I. He added a line tohis note to say that he had gained my cooperation, and that, therefore, immunity was expected for me too. "

"You have done well, Ercole. " Francesco applauded him. "Now return methe letter I gave you for Monna Valentina. There is no longer the needfor it. But return to me to-night toward the fourth hour, when all areabed, and bring with you my men, Lanciotto and Zaccaria. "

CHAPTER XXIV. THE INTERRUPTED MASS

The morning of that Wednesday of Corpus Christi, fateful to allconcerned in this chronicle, dawned misty and grey, and the air waschilled by the wind that blew from the sea. The chapel bell tinkled outits summons, and the garrison trooped faithfully to Mass. 

Presently came Monna Valentina, followed by her ladies, her pages, andlastly, Peppe, wearing under his thin mask of piety an air of eageranxiety and unrest. Valentina was very pale, and round her eyes therewere dark circles that told of sleeplessness, and as she bowed herhead in prayer, her ladies observed that tears were falling on theilluminated Mass-book over which she bent. And now came Fra Domenicofrom the sacristy in the white chasuble that the Church ordains for theCorpus Christi feast, followed by a page in a clerkly gown of black, andthe Mass commenced. 

There were absent only from the gathering Gonzaga and Fortemani, besidesa sentry and the three prisoners. Francesco and his two followers. 

Gonzaga had presented himself to Valentina with the plausible tale that, as the events of which Fanfulla's letter had given them knowledge mightlead Gian Maria at any moment to desperate measures, it might be wellthat he should reinforce the single man-at-arms patrolling the walls. Valentina, little recking now whether the castle held or fell, and stillless such trifles as Gonzaga's attendance at Mass, had assented withoutheeding the import of what he said. 

And so, his face drawn and his body quivering with the excitement ofwhat he was about to do, Gonzaga had repaired to the ramparts so soonas he had seen them all safely into chapel. The sentinel was that sameclerkly youth Aventano, who had read to the soldiers that letter GianMaria had sent Gonzaga. This the courtier accepted as a good omen. If aman there was among the soldiery at Roccaleone with whom he deemed thathe had an account to settle, that man was Aventano. 

The mist was rapidly lightening, and the country grew visible for milesaround. In the camp of Gian Maria he observed a coming and going of menthat argued an inordinate bustle for so early an hour. They awaited hissignal. 

He approached the young sentinel, growing more and more nervous as thetime for action advanced. He cursed Fortemani, who had selfishly refusedto take an active part in the admission of Gian Maria. Here was a taskthat Fortemani could perform more satisfactorily than he. He had urgedthis fact on Ercole's attention, but the swashbuckler had grinned andshook his head. To Gonzaga fell the greater reward, and so Gonzaga mustdo the greater work. It was only fair, the knave had urged; andwhile Gonzaga was about it, he would watch the chapel door againstinterruption. And so Gonzaga had been forced to come alone to tryconclusions with the sentry. 

He gave the young man a nervous but pleasant "Good-morrow, " and observedwith satisfaction that he wore no body armour. His original intentionhad been to attempt to suborn him, and render him pliable by bribery;but now that the moment for action was arrived he dared not make theoffer. He lacked for words in which to present his proposal, and he wasafraid lest the man should resent it, and in a fit of indignationattack him with his partisan. He little imagined that Aventano had beenforewarned by Ercole that a bribe would be offered him and that hewas to accept it promptly. Ercole had chosen this man because he wasintelligent, and had made him understand enough of what was toward, besides offering a substantial reward if he played his part well, andAventano waited. But Gonzaga, knowing naught of this, abandoned at thelast moment the notion of bribing him--which Ercole had enjoined him, and which he in his turn had promised Ercole was the course he wouldpursue. 

"You seem cold, Excellency, " said the young man deferentially, for hehad observed that Gonzaga shivered. 

"A chill morning, Aventano, " returned the gallant, with a grin. 

"True; but the sun is breaking through yonder. It will be warmer soon. "

"Why, yes, " answered the other abstractedly, and still he remained bythe sentinel, his hand, under the gay mantle of blue velvet, nervouslyfingering the hilt of a dagger that he dared not draw. It came to himthat moments were passing, and that the thing must be done. Yet Aventanowas a sinewy youth, and if the sudden stab he meditated failed him, hewould be at the fellow's mercy. At the thought he shivered again, andhis face turned grey. He moved away a step, and then inspiration broughthim a cruel ruse. He uttered a cry. 

"What is that?" he exclaimed, his eyes on the ground. 

In an instant Aventano was beside him, for his voice had soundedalarmed--a tone, in his present condition, not difficult to simulate. 

"What, Excellency?"

"Down there, " cried Gonzaga excitedly. "There from that fissure in thestone. Saw you nothing?" And he pointed to the ground at a spot wheretwo slabs met. 

"I saw nothing, Illustrious. "

"It was like a flash of yellow light below there. What is under us here?I'll swear there's treachery at work. Get down on your knees, and try ifanything is to be seen. "

With a wondering glance at the courtier's white, twitching face, theunfortunate young man went down on all fours to do his bidding. Afterall--poor fellow!--he was hardly intelligent as Fortemani opined. 

"There is nothing, Excellency, " he said. "The plaster is cracked. But---- Ah!"

In a panic of haste Gonzaga had whipped the dagger from its sheath andsunk it into the middle of Aventano's broad back. The fellow's arms slidout, and with a long-drawn, gurgling sigh he sank down and stretchedhimself horribly on the stones. 

In that instant the clouds parted overhead and the sun came out in ablaze of golden glory. High above Gonzaga's head a lark burst into song. 

For a moment the assassin remained standing above the body of his victimwith head sunk between the shoulders like a man who expects a blow, hisface grey, his teeth chattering, and his mouth twitching hideously. Ashudder shook him. It was the first life he had taken, and that carrionat his feet filled him with sickly horror. Not for a kingdom--notto save his vile soul from the eternal damnation that act had earnedit--would he have dared stoop to pluck the dagger from the back of thewretch he had murdered. With something like a scream he turned, and fledin a panic from the spot. Panting with horror, yet subconsciously awareof the work he had to do, he paused a moment to wave a kerchief, thendashed down the steps to the postern. 

With trembling fingers he unlocked the door and set it wide to GianMaria's men, who, in answer to his signal, were now hurrying forwardwith a bridge composed of pine trees, that they had hastily and roughlyput together during the previous day. This, with some efforts and morenoise than Gonzaga relished, was thrust across the moat. One of the mencrept across, and assisted Gonzaga to make fast his end. 

A moment later Gian Maria and Guidobaldo stood in the castle-yard, andafter them came almost every man of the five score that Gian Maria hadbrought to that siege. This was what Francesco had confidently expected, knowing that it was not his cousin's way to run any risks. 

The Duke of Babbiauo, whose face was disfigured by a bristling hedge ofreddish stubble--for in obedience to the vow he had made, he now carrieda fortnight's growth of beard on his round face--turned to Gonzaga. 

"Is all well?" he asked, in a friendly tone, whilst Guidobaldocontemptuously eyed the popinjay. 

Gonzaga assured them that the whole thing had been effected withoutdisturbing the garrison at their prayers. Now that he deemed himselfwell protected his usual serenity of manner returned. 

"You may felicitate yourself, Highness, " he ventured to say, with agrin, to Guidobaldo, "that you have reared your niece in devout ways. "

"Did you address me?" quoth the Duke of Urbino coldly. "I trust it maynot again be necessary. "

Before the look of loathing in his handsome face Gonzaga cringed. GianMaria laughed in his piping treble. 

"Have I not served your Highness faithfully?" fawned the gallant. 

"So has the meanest scullion in my kitchens, the lowliest groom in mystables--and with more honour to himself, " answered the proud Duke. "Yethe does not go the length of jesting with me. " His eye carried a menaceso eloquent that Gonzaga drew back, afraid; but Gian Maria clapped himon the shoulder in a friendly manner. 

"Be of good heart, Judas, " he laughed, his pale face a-grin, "I shallfind room for you in Babbiano, and work too, if you do it as well asthis. Come; the men are here now. Let us go forward whilst they are attheir prayers. But we must not disturb them, " he added, more seriously. "I will not be guilty of an impiety. We can lie in wait for themwithout. "

He laughed gaily, for he seemed in a preposterously good humour, andbidding Gonzaga lead the way he followed, with Guidobaldo at his side. They crossed the courtyard, where his men were ranged, armed to theteeth, and at the door of the archway leading to the inner court theypaused for Gonzaga to open it. 

A moment the gallant stood staring. Then he turned a face ofconsternation on the Dukes. His knees shook visibly. 

"It is locked, " he announced, in a husky voice. 

"We made too much noise in entering, " suggested Guidobaldo, "and theyhave taken the alarm. "

The explanation relieved the growing uneasiness in Gian Maria's mind. Heturned with an oath to his men. 

"Here, some of you, " his sharp voice commanded. "Beat me down this door. By the Host! Do the fools think to keep me out so easily?"

The door was broken down, and they advanced. But only some half-dozenpaces, for at the end of that short gallery they found the seconddoor barring their progress. Through this, too, they broke, Gian Mariafiercely blaspheming at the delay. Yet when it was done he was none soeager to lead the way. 

In the second courtyard he deemed it extremely probable that they shouldfind Valentina's soldiers awaiting them. So bidding his men pass on, heremained behind with Guidobaldo until he heard word that the inner courtwas likewise empty. 

And now the entire hundred of his followers were assembled thereto overpower the twenty that served Monna Valentina; andGuidobaldo--despite Gian Maria's scruples--strode coolly forward to thechapel door. 

 * * * * *

Within the chapel Mass had started. Fra Domenico at the foot of thealtar had pattered through the Confiteor, his deep voice responded toby the soprano of the ministering page. The Kyrie was being uttered whenthe attention of the congregation was attracted by the sound of stepsapproaching the chapel door to the accompaniment of an ominous clank ofsteel. The men rose in a body, fearing treachery, and cursing--despitethe sanctity of the place--the circumstance that they were withoutweapons. 

Then the door opened, and down the steps rang the armed heels of thenew-comers, so that every eye was turned upon them, including thatof Fra Domenico, who had pronounced the last "Christe eleison" in aquavering voice. 

A gasp of relief, followed by an angry cry from Valentina, went up whenthey recognised those that came. First stepped the Count of Aquila infull armour, sword at side and dagger on hip, carrying his head-piece onthe crook of his left arm. Behind him towered the bulk of Fortemani, hisgreat face flushed with a strange excitement, a leather hacketon overhis steel cuirass, girt, too, with sword and dagger, and carrying hisshining morion in his hand. Last came Lanciotto and Zaccaria, both fullyequipped and armed at all points. 

"Who are you that come thus accoutred into God's House to interrupt theholy Mass?" cried the bass voice of the friar. 

"Patience, good father, " answered Francesco calmly, "The occasion is ourjustification. "

"What does this mean, Fortemani?" demanded Valentina imperiously, hereyes angrily set upon her captain, utterly ignoring the Count. "Do youbetray me too?"

"It means, Madonna, " answered the giant bluntly, "that your lap-dog, Messer Gonzaga, is at this very moment admitting Gian Maria and hisforces to Roccaleone, by the postern. "

There was a hoarse cry from the men, which Francesco silenced by a waveof his mailed hand. 

Valentina looked wildly at Fortemani, and then, as if drawn by a greaterwill than her own, her eyes were forced to travel to the Count. Heinstantly advanced, and bowed his head before her. 

"Madonna, this is no hour for explanations. Action is needed, and thatat once. I was wrong in not disclosing my identity to you before youdiscovered it by such unfortunate means and with the assistance of theonly traitor Roccaleone has harboured, Romeo Gonzaga--who, as Fortemanihas just told you, is at this moment admitting my cousin and your uncleto the castle. But that my object was ever other than to serve you, orthat I sought, as was represented to you, to turn this siege to my ownpolitical profit, that, Madonna, I implore you in your own interests tobelieve untrue. "

She sank on to her knees and with folded hands began to pray to theMother of Mercy, deeming herself lost, for his tone carried conviction, and he had said that Gian Maria was entering the castle. 

"Madonna, " he cried, touching her lightly on the shoulder; "let yourprayers wait until they can be of thanksgiving. Listen. By the vigilanceof Peppe there, who, good soul that he is, never lost faith in me ordeemed me a dastard, we were informed last night--Fortemani and I--ofthis that Gonzaga was preparing. And we have made our plans and preparedthe ground. When Gian Maria's soldiers enter, they will find the outerdoors barred and locked, and we shall gain a little time while theybreak through them. My men, as you will observe, are even now barringthe door of the chapel to impose a further obstacle. Now while they arethus engaged we must act. Briefly, then, if you will trust us we willbear you out of this, for we four have worked through the night to somepurpose. "

She looked at him through a film of tears, her face drawn andstartled. Then she put her hands to her brow in a gesture of bewilderedhelplessness. 

"But they will follow us, " she complained. 

"Not so, " he answered, smiling. "For that, too, have we provided. Come, Madonna, time presses. "

A long moment she looked at him. Then brushing aside the tears thatdimmed her sight, she set a hand on either of his shoulders, and stoodso, before them all, gazing up into his calm face. 

"How shall I know that what you say is true--that I may trust you?"she asked, but her voice was not the voice of one that demands anoverwhelming proof ere she will believe. 

"By my honour and my knighthood, " he answered, in a ringing voice, "Imake oath here, at the foot of God's altar, that my purpose--my onlypurpose--has been, is, and shall be to serve you, Monna Valentina. "

"I believe you, " she cried; to sob a moment later:

"Forgive me, Francesco, and may God, too, forgive my lack of faith inyou. "

He softly breathed her name in such sweet accents that a happy peacepervaded her, and the bright courage of yore shone in her brown eyes. 

"Come, sirs!" he cried now, with a sudden briskness that startled theminto feverish obedience. "You, Fra Domenico, cut off your sacerdotals, and gird high your habit. There is climbing for you. Here, a couple ofyou, move aside that altar-step. My men and I have spent the night inloosening its old hinges. "

They raised the slab, and in the gap beneath it was disclosed a flightof steps leading down to the dungeons and cellars of Roccaleone. 

Down this they went in haste but in good order, marshalled by Francesco, and when the last had passed down, he and Lanciotto, aided by othersbelow, who had seized a rope that he had lowered them, replaced the slabfrom underneath, so that no trace should remain of the way by which theyhad come. 

A postern had been unbarred below by Fortemani, who had led the way witha half-dozen of the men; and a huge scaling ladder that lay in readinessin that subterranean gallery was rushed out across the moat, which atthis point was a roaring torrent. 

Fortemani was the first to descend that sloping bridge, and uponreaching the ground he made fast the lower end. 

Next went a dozen men at Francesco's bidding, armed with the pikesthat had been left overnight in the gallery. At a word of command theyslipped quietly away. Then came the women, and lastly, the remainder ofthe men. 

Of the enemy they caught no glimpse; not so much as a sentry, for everyone of Gian Maria's men had been pressed into the investment of thecastle. Thus they emerged from Roccaleone, and made their way down thatrough bridge into the pleasant meadows to the south. Already Fortemaniand his dozen men had disappeared at the trot, making for the front ofthe castle, when Francesco stepped last upon the bridge, and closed thepostern after him. Then he glided rapidly to the ground, and with theassistance of a dozen ready hands he dragged away the scaling ladder. They carried it some yards from the brink of the torrent, and depositedit in the meadow. With a laugh of purest relish Francesco stepped toValentina's side. 

"It will exercise their minds to discover how we got out, " he cried, "and they will be forced to the conclusion that we are angels all, withwings beneath our armour. We have not left them a single ladder or astrand of rope in Roccaleone by which to attempt to follow us, even ifthey discover how we came. But come, Valentina mia, the comedy is notfinished yet. Already Fortemani will have removed the bridge by whichthey entered and engaged such few men as may have been left behind, andwe have the High and Mighty Gian Maria in the tightest trap that wasever fashioned. "

CHAPTER XXV. THE CAPITULATION OF ROCCALEONE

In the sunshine of that bright May morning Francesco and his men wentmerrily to work to possess themselves of the ducal camp, and the firstbusiness of the day was to arm those soldiers who had come out unarmed. Of weapons there was no lack, and to these they helped themselvesin liberal fashion, whilst here and there a man would pause to don ahaubergeon or press a steel cap on his head. 

Three sentries only had been left to guard the tents, and of theseFortemani and a couple of his men had made prisoners whilst the otherswere removing the bridge by which the invaders had entered. And nowbeneath the open postern by the drawbridge gaped a surging torrent thatno man would have the hardihood to attempt to swim. 

In that opening, presently, appeared Gian Maria, his face red foronce, and behind him a clamouring crowd of men-at-arms who shared theirmaster's rage at the manner in which they had been trapped. 

At the rear of the tents Valentina and her ladies awaited the issue ofthe parley that now seemed toward. The bulk of the men were busy at GianMaria's cannons, and under Francesco's supervision they were trainingthem upon the drawbridge. 

From the castle a mighty shout went up. The men disappeared from thepostern to reappear a moment later on the ramparts, and Francescolaughed deep down in his throat as he perceived the purpose of this. They had bethought them of the guns that were mounted there, and weregone to use them against Valentina's little army. Gun after gun theytried, and a fierce cry of rage burst forth when they realised by whatdummies they had been held in check during the past week. This wasfollowed by a silence of some moments, terminated at last by the soundof a bugle. 

Answering that summons to a parley, and with a last word of injunctionto Fortemani, who was left in charge of the men at the guns, Francescorode forward on one of Gian Maria's horses, escorted by Lanciotto andZaccaria similarly mounted, and each armed with a loaded arquebuse. 

Under the walls of Roccaleone he drew rein, laughing to himself at thismonstrous change of sides. As he halted--helmet on head, but beaveropen--a body came hurtling over the battlements and splashed into thefoaming waters below. It was the corpse of Aventano, which Gian Mariahad peremptorily bidden them to remove from his sight. 

"I desire to speak with Monna Valentina della Rovere, " cried the furiousDuke. 

"You may speak with me, Gian Maria, " answered Francesco's voice, clear and metallic. "I am her representative, her sometime Provost ofRoccaleone. "

"Who are you?" quoth the Duke, struck by a familiar note in that mockingvoice. 

"Francesco del Falco, Count of Aquila. "

"By God! You!"

"An age of marvels, is it not?" laughed Francesco. 

"Which will you lose, my cousin--a wife or a duchy?"

Rage struck Gian Maria speechless for a moment. Then he turned toGuidobaldo and whispered something; but Guidobaldo, who seemed vastlyinterested now in this knight below, merely shrugged his shoulders. 

"I will lose neither, Messer Francesco, " roared the Duke. "Neither, byGod!" he screamed. "Neither, do you hear me?"

"I should be deaf else, " was the easy answer, "But you are gravely atfault. One or the other you must relinquish, and it is yours to make achoice between them. The game has gone against you, Gian Maria, and youmust pay. "

"But have I no voice in the bartering of my niece?" asked Guidobaldo, with cold dignity. "Is it for you, Lord Count, to say whether yourcousin shall wed her or not?"

"Why, no. He may wed her if he will, but he will be a duke no longer. Infact, he will be an outcast with no title to lay claim to, if indeed theBabbianians will leave him a head at all; whilst I, at least, thoughnot a duke with a tottering throne, am a count with lands, smallbut securely held, and shall become a duke if Gian Maria refuses torelinquish me your niece. So that if he be disposed to marry her, will you be disposed to let her marry a homeless vagrant or a headlesscorpse?"

Guidobaldo's face seemed to change, and his eyes looked curiously at thewhite-faced Duke beside him. 

"So you are the other pretender to my niece's hand, Lord Count?" heasked, in his coldest voice. 

"I am, Highness, " answered Francesco quietly. "The matter stands thus:Unless Gian Maria is in Babbiano by morning, he forfeits his crown, andit passes to me by the voice of the people; but if he will relinquishhis claim to Monna Valentina in my favour, then I shall journey straightto Aquila, and I shall trouble Babbiano no more. If he refuses, andinsists upon this wedding, abhorrent to Monna Valentina, why, then, mymen shall hold him captive behind those walls until it be too late forhim to reach his duchy in time to save the crown. In the meantime I willride to Babbiano in his stead, and--reluctant though I be to play theduke--I shall accept the throne and silence the people's importunities. He can then endeavour to win your Highness's consent to the union. "

For perhaps the first time in his life Guidobaldo was guilty of an actof positive discourtesy. He broke into a laugh--a boisterous, amusedlaugh that cut into Gian Maria's heart like a knife. 

"Why, Lord Count, " he said, "I confess that you have us very much inyour hands to mould us as you will. Now, you are such a soldier and sucha strategist as it would pleasure me to have about my person in Urbino. What says your Highness?" he continued, turning now to the almostspeechless Gian Maria. "I have yet another niece with whom we mightcement the union of the two duchies; and she might prove more willing. Women, it seems, will insist upon being women. Do you not think thatMonna Valentina and this your valiant cousin----"

"Heed him not!" screamed Gian Maria, now in a white heat of passion. "He is a smooth-tongued dog that would argue the very devil out of hell. Make no terms with the hind! I have a hundred men, and----" He swungsuddenly round. "Let down that drawbridge, cowards!" he bawled at them, "and sweep me those animals from my tents. "

"Gian Maria, I give you warning, " cried Francesco, loudly and firmly. "Ihave trained your own guns on to that bridge, and at the first attemptto lower it I'll blow it into splinters. You come not out of Roccaleonesave at my pleasure and upon my terms, and if you lose your duchy byyour obstinacy, it will be your own work; but answer me now, that I maytake my course. "

Guidobaldo, too, restrained Gian Maria, and countermanded his order forthe lowering of the bridge. And now on his other side Gonzaga crept upto him, and whispered into his ear the suggestion that he should waituntil night had fallen. 

"Wait until night, fool!" blazed the Duke, turning on him, in a fiercejoy at finding one whom he might rend. "If I wait until then, my throneis lost to me. This comes of sorting with traitors. It is your fault, you Judas!" he cried more fiercely still, his face distorted; "but youat least shall pay for what you have done. "

Gonzaga saw a sudden flash of steel before his eyes, and a piercingscream broke from him as Gian Maria's dagger buried itself in hisbreast. Too late Guidobaldo put forward a hand to stay the Duke. 

And so, by a strangely avenging justice, the magnificent Gonzagasank dead on the very spot on which he had so cravenly and dastardlyponiarded Aventano. 

"Throw me that carrion into the moat, " growled Gian Maria, stillquivering with rage that had prompted his ferocious act. 

He was obeyed, and thus murdered and murderer were united in a commongrave. 

After the first attempt to restrain Gian Maria, Guidobaldo had lookedon in unconcern, deeming the act a very fitting punishment of a man withwhose treachery he, at least, had never been in sympathy. 

As he saw the body vanish in the torrent below, Gian Maria seemed torealise what he had done. His anger fell from him, and with bent head hepiously crossed himself. Then turning to an attendant who stood at hiselbow:

"See that a Mass is said for his soul to-morrow, " he solemnly bade him. 

As if the act had served to pacify him and restore him to his senses, Gian Maria now stepped forward and asked his cousin, in calmer tonesthan he had hitherto employed, to make clear the terms on which he wouldpermit him to return to Babbiano within the time to which his peoplelimited him. 

"They are no more than that you relinquish your claim to MonnaValentina, and that you find consolation--as I think his Highness ofUrbino has himself suggested--in the Lord Guidobaldo's younger niece. "

Before he could reply Guidobaldo was urging him, in a low voice toaccept the terms. 

"What else is there for you?" Montefeltro ended pregnantly. 

"And this other niece of yours----?" quoth Gian Maria lamely. 

"I have already passed my word, " answered Guidobaldo. 

"And Monna Valentina?" the other almost whined. 

"May wed this headstrong condottiero of hers. I'll not withstand them. Come; I am your friend in this. I am even sacrificing Valentina to yourinterests. For if you persist, he will ruin you. The game is his, mylord. Acknowledge your defeat, as I acknowledge mine, and pay. "

"But what is your defeat to mine?" cried Gian Maria, who saw throughGuidobaldo's appreciation of the fact that such a nephew-in-law asFrancesco del Falco was far from undesirable in the troublous times thatthreatened. 

"It is at least as absolute, " returned Guidobaldo, with a shrug. And inthis vein the Duke of Urbino continued for some moments, till, in theend, Gian Maria found himself not only deserted by his ally, but havingthis ally now combating on his cousin's side and pressing him to accepthis cousin's terms, distasteful though they were. Thus urged, Gian Marialamely acknowledged his defeat and his willingness to pay the forfeit. With that he asked how soon he might be permitted to leave the castle. 

"Why, at once, now that I have your word, " answered Francesco readily, whereat treachery gleamed from Gian Maria's eye, to be swiftly quenchedby Francesco's next words. "But lest your men and mine should come totrouble with one another, you will order yours to come forth withoutarms or armour, and you will depose your own. His Highness Guidobaldo isthe only man in whose favour I can make an exception to this condition. Let it be broken, and I promise you that you will very bitterly regretit. At sight of the first armed man issuing from those gates, I'll givethe word to fire on you, and your own guns shall work your destruction. "

Thus was the second siege of Roccaleone ended almost as soon as it wasbegun, and thus did Gian Maria capitulate to the conqueror. The Duke ofBabbiano and his men marched out sheepishly and silently, and took theirway to Babbiano, no word--not even so much as a glance--passing betweenGian Maria and the lady who had been the cause of his discomfiture, andwho blithely looked on at his departure. 

Guidobaldo and his few attendants lingered after his late ally had gone. Then he bade Francesco lead him to his niece, in which Francesco readilyobeyed him. 

The Duke embraced her coldly--still that he embraced her at all afterwhat was passed augured well. 

"You will come with me to Urbino, Lord Count?" he said suddenly toFrancesco. "It were best to celebrate the nuptials there. Everything isin readiness--for all had been prepared for Gian Maria. "

A great joy came into Valentina's eyes; her cheeks flushed and herglance fell; but Francesco scanned the Duke's face with the keen eye ofone who is incredulous of so much good fortune. 

"Your Highness means me well?" he made bold to ask. Guidobaldostiffened, and a frown broke the serenity of his lofty brow. 

"You have my princely word, " he answered solemnly, at which, with bendedknee, Francesco stooped to kiss his ducal hand. 

And so they departed on the horses that they kept as the spoils of war. They made a goodly show, Guidobaldo riding at their head, with Francescoand Valentina, whilst the rear was brought up by Peppe and Fra Domenico, who, touched by this epidemic of goodwill, were at last fraternisingwith each other. 

And as they rode it chanced that presently Guidobaldo fell behind, so that for a moment Francesco and Valentina found themselves alone alittle ahead of the others. She turned to him, a shyness in her browneyes, a tremble at the corners of her red lips:

"You have not yet said that you forgive me, Francesco, " she complained, in a timerous whisper. "Were it not seemly that you did since we are tobe wed so soon?"