A few hours earlier on the day of which we have just been speaking, a
gallant band of men-at-arms rode forward on the highway between Milan
and Pavia. It consisted of nearly four hundred lances, that is to say,
of about eight hundred men. Had it been complete, the number would
have amounted to many more, for the usual proportion was at least
three inferior soldiers, esquires, or pages to each lance; but the
eagerness of the young King of France to achieve what he believed
would be an easy conquest had hurried his departure from France ere
his musters were one half filled.
A short repose in Milan had sufficed to wipe away all stains of travel
from his host; and the band of the Lord of Vitry appeared in all their
accoutrements, what Rosalind calls "point device." It is true, the day
had been somewhat dry and sultry, and some dust had gathered upon
splendid surcoats, and scarfs, and sword-knots; and the horses, so gay
and full of spirit in the morning, now looked somewhat fatigued, but
by no means jaded.
At their head rode their commander, a man of some thirty to two and
thirty years of age, of a fine, manly person and handsome countenance,
although the expression might be somewhat quick and hasty, and a deep
scar on the brow rather marred the symmetry of his face. By his side,
on a horse of much inferior power, but full of fire and activity, rode
a man, not exactly in the garb of a servant, but yet plainly habited
and nearly unarmed. Sword and dagger most men wore in those days, but
he wore neither lance nor shield, cuirass nor back-piece. He carried a
little black velvet cap upon his head, with a long feather; and he
rode in shoes of untanned leather, with long, sharp points, somewhat
like a pod of mustard-seed.
"Are you sure you know the way, Master Tony?" asked De Vitry.
"I know the way right well, noble lord," replied the other; "but you
do me too much honour to call me master. In Italy none is master but a
man of great renown in the arts."
"Good faith, I know not what you are," answered the leader, "and I
never could make out what young Lorenzo kept you always trotting at
his heels for, like a hound after his master."
"You do me too much honour again, my lord," replied the other, "in
comparing me to a hound."
"What, then, in Fortune's name, are you?" asked De Vitry, laughing.
"A mongrel," replied Antonio, "half French, half Italian; but pray,
your lordship, don't adjure me by Fortune; for the blind goddess with
the kerchief over her eyes has never been favourable to me all my
life."
"Time she should change then," answered De Vitry.
"Oh, sir, she is like a school-boy," answered Antonio; "she never
changes but from mischief to mischief; only constant in doing evil;
and whichever side of her wheel turns uppermost, my lot is sure to
slide down to the bottom. But here your lordship must turn off."
De Vitry was following on the road to which the other pointed, when a
voice behind said:
"You are leaving the high road, my lord. If you look forward, you will
see this is but a narrow lane."
"By my faith that is true," said the commander of the band; "you are
not tricking me, I trust, Master Antonio? Halt there--halt!"
"It might be fine fun to trick a French knight if I were my lord's
jester," said Antonio, "but I have not arrived at that dignity yet."
"Where does that road lead to, then, sirrah?" demanded De Vitry,
pointing to the one they were just leaving.
"To Pavia, my lord," replied the man; "but you will find this the
shortest, and, I judge, the best."
There was a lurking smile upon Antonio's face, which De Vitry did not
like; and, after but a moment's hesitation, he turned his horse back
into the other path, saying:
"I will take the broad way; I never liked narrow or crooked paths in
my life."
"I trust you will then allow me to follow the other, sir," said
Antonio; "first, because there is no use in trying to guide people who
will not be guided, and, secondly, because I have something important
to say to my young lord."
"No, sir--no," answered De Vitry, sharply; "ride here by my side.
To-morrow, at farthest, I will take care to know whether you have
tried to deceive me: and if you have, beware your ears."
"You will know to-night, my lord," said the man, "and my ears are in
no danger, if you are not given, like many another gentlemen, to
cuffing other people for your own faults."
"You are somewhat saucy, sir," replied the marquis; "your master
spoils you, methinks."
The man saw that his companion was not to be provoked farther, and was
silent while they rode onward.
It was now drawing towards evening, but the light had not yet faded;
and De Vitry gazed around with a soldier's eye, scanning the military
aspect of the country around.
"Is there not a river runs behind that ridge, Master Tony?" he asked
at the end of ten minutes, with easily recovered good-humour.
"Yes, sir," replied the man shortly.
"And what castle is that on the left--there, far in the distance?"
"That is the castle of Sant' Angelo," answered Antonio.
"Why, here is the river right before us," said De Vitry, "but where is
the bridge?"
"Heaven knows," replied the man, with the same quiet smile he had
borne before; "part of it, you may see, is standing on the other side,
and there are a few stones on this, if they can be of any service to
your lordship. The rest took to travelling down toward the Po some
month or two ago, and how far they have marched I cannot tell."
"Doubtless we can ford it," said De Vitry, in an indifferent tone.
"First send your enemy, my lord," replied Antonio, "then your friend,
and then try it yourself--if you like."
"By my life, I have a mind to send you first, head foremost," replied
the commander, sharply, but the next moment he burst into a
good-humoured laugh, saying, "Well, what is to be done? The stream
seems deep and strong. We did you wrong, Antonio. Now lead us right,
at all events."
"You did yourself wrong, and your own eyesight, my lord," answered the
man, "for, if you had looked at the tracks on the road, you would have
seen that all the ox-carts for the last month have turned off where I
would have led you. You have only now to go back, again."
"A hard punishment for a light fault," replied De Vitry. "Why told you
me not this before, my good sir."
"Because, my lord, I have always thought St. Anthony, my patron, was
wrong in preaching to fishes which have no ears. But we had better
speed, sir, for it is touching upon evening, and night will have
fallen before we reach Sant' Angelo. There you will find good quarters
in the Borgo for your men; and, doubtless, the noble signor in the
castle will come down at the first sound of your trumpets, and ask you
and your prime officers to feast with him above. He is a noble lord,
and loves the powers that be. Well that the devil has not come upon
earth in his day, for he would have entertained him royally, and might
have injured his means in honour of his guest."
De Vitry burst into another gay laugh, and, turning his horse's head,
gave orders for his band to retrace their steps, upon which, of
course, the young men commented as they would, while the old soldiers
obeyed without question, even in their thoughts.
Night had long fallen when they reached Sant' Angelo a place then of
much more importance than it is now, or has been for two centuries.
But Antonio had been mistaken in supposing that De Vitry and his
principal officers would be invited to lodge within the castle. The
lord thereof was absent, knowing that the route of the King of France
must be close to his residence. He was well aware that the attachment
professed toward the young monarch by persons more powerful than
himself was all hollow and deceptive, and that inferior men, in
conflicts of great interests, always suffer, whose party soever they
espouse. But he knew, too that unexplained neutrality suffers more
than all, and he resolved to absent himself from his lands on the
first news of the arrival of the King of France in Italy, that he
might seem to favour neither him nor his opponents, and yet not
proclaim a neutrality which would make enemies of both.
The castle, indeed, would at once have opened its gates, had it been
summoned; but De Vitry, knowing the king's anxiety to keep on good
terms with all the Italian nobles of Lombardy, contented himself with
lodgings in the humble inn of the place, and hunger made his food seem
as good as any which the castle could have afforded. The supper passed
gaily over; the men were scattered in quarters through the little
borough; wine was with difficulty procured by any but the officers,
and sober perforce, the soldiery sought rest early. De Vitry and one
or two others sat up late, sometimes talking, sometimes falling into
fits of thought.
Antonio, in the meantime, had not even thought of rest. He had
carefully attended to his horse, had ordered him to be fed, and seen
him eat his food, and he stood before the door of the inn, gazing up
at the moon, as if enjoying the calm sweetness of the soft Italian
nights, but in reality meditating a farther ride as soon as all the
rest were asleep. It was in the shadiest corner of this doorway
that the man had placed himself, and yet he could see the full
nearly-rounded orb without coming under her beams. As so often
happens, two processes seemed going on in his mind at once; one
suggested by objects present, and finding utterance in an occasional
murmured sentence or two, the other originating in things past, and
proceeding silently.
"Ay, Madam Moon," he said; "you are a curious creature, with your
changes, and your risings, and your settings, and your man with his
dog and lantern. I wonder what you really are. You look like a great
big ducat nailed upon the sky, or a seal of yellow wax pendent from
the charter of the heavens. I could almost fancy, though, that I can
see behind you on this clear night. Perhaps you are but the big boss
of a sconce, put up there to reflect the light of the sun. You will
soon be up there, just above the watch-tower of the castle, like a
ball upon a gate-post. Hark! there are people riding late. By my
faith! if they be travellers coming hither, they will find scanty
lodging and little to eat. These gormandizing Frenchmen have gobbled
up everything in the village, I warrant, and occupied every bed. On my
faith, they will find themselves too confident some day: not a sentry
set except at the stables; no one on guard; the two or three officers
in the dining-hall. They think they have got Italy at their feet; they
may discover that they are mistaken before they leave it. These
horsemen are coming hither. Who can they be?"
While these thoughts had been occupying one part of the man--I know
not how better to express it--and had more or less clothed themselves
in words, another train, more nearly allied to feeling, had been
proceeding silently in the deeper recesses of his bosom. There was
something which made him half sorry that he had been prevented from
proceeding further before nightfall, half angry with him who had been,
partly at least, the cause of the delay. "I do not believe," he
thought, "that the big bravo can reach the villa before morning. He
had not set out when we came away, and yet I should like to see the
young lord to-night. I have a great mind to get upon my horse's skin
at once and go on. But then, a thousand to one, De Vitry would send
after and stop me; and if I were to meet Buondoni and his people, I
should get my throat cut, and all my news would escape through the
gash. If I could persuade this dashing French captain to lend me half
a dozen men now, I might do something; but their horses are all tired
with carrying the cart-load of iron each has got upon his shoulders.
Hark! these travellers are coming nearer. Perhaps they may bring some
news from the Villa Rovera. They are coming from that side."
He drew farther back into the shadow of the gateway. It may seem
strange that he did so; for even in distracted England, in those days
as well as afterward, the first impulse of the lodger in an inn was to
meet the coming guest and obtain the general tidings which he brought,
and which were hardly to be obtained from any other source. But in
Italy men had learned such caution that every stranger was considered
an enemy till he was ascertained to be a friend. The evils of high
civilization were upon the land, without any of its benefits; nay,
more, this had endured so long that suspicion might almost be looked
upon as the normal condition of the Italian mind.
The republics of Italy have been highly extolled by eloquent men, but
their results were all evil except in one respect. They served to
preserve a memory of the arts--to rescue, in fact, something which
might decorate life from the wreck of perished years. In thus
speaking, I include commerce with the arts. But as to social
advancement, they did nothing except through the instrumentality of
those arts. They endeavoured to revive ancient forms unsuited to the
epoch; they succeeded in so doing only for the briefest possible
period, and the effort ended everywhere, first in anarchy, and then in
despotism--each equally destructive to individual happiness, to
general security, and to public morals. They afforded a spectacle, at
once humiliating and terrible, of the impotence of the human mind to
stem the strong, calm current of pre-ordained events. Their brief
existence, their lamentable failure, the brightness of their short
course, and the evils consequent upon the attempts to recall rotten
institutions from millennial graves, were but as the last flash of the
expiring candle of old Rome, ending in darkness and a bad smell. For
more than two centuries, at the time I speak of, life and property in
Italy had enjoyed no security except in the continual watchfulness of
the possessor. The minds of men were armed as well as their bodies,
and thus had been engendered that suspicion and that constant
watchfulness which rendered life a mere campaign, because the world
was one battlefield.
Oh! happy state under the old Saxon king of England, when from one end
to the other of the bright island a young girl might carry a purse of
gold unmolested!
Antonio drew back as the travellers approached to hear something of
who and what they were before he ventured to deal with them
personally. They were within a few yards of him in a minute, drawing
in the rein when they came opposite the archway leading to the
stable-yard. There the first challenge of a sentinel was heard, and
the answer given, "Amici!" showed that they were Italians.
The word was uttered quickly and in a tone of surprise, which showed
they were unaware the borgo had been occupied by the French troops;
but, after a few whispered sentences, one of the four who had newly
arrived asked the sentinel, in marvellous bad French, to call the
landlord or one of the horse-boys. They wanted food for themselves and
horses, they said, and hoped to find some place to rest in for the
night.
The sentinel grumbled forth something to the effect that they were
much mistaken, but, raising his stentorian voice, he called the people
of the house into the courtyard; and Antonio gazed forth and
scrutinised the appearance of the new-comers for a minute or two,
while they made their application for entertainment, and heard all the
objections and difficulties laid before them by the landlord, who was
already overcrowded, but unwilling to lose certain _lire_ which they
might expend in his house.
"I can but feed your horses in the yard, and give you some straw and
covering for yourselves, Signor Sacchi," replied the landlord; "and
then you must lie on the floor of the hall."
The leading horseman turned to consult with his three companions,
saying, "He told us to wait him here if he came not in an hour."
"Nay, I understood, if he came not in an hour," replied another, "we
were to conclude he had obtained entertainment in the Villa--, which
the count's letter was sure to secure for him; but I did not hear him
say we were to come back here, as I told you long ago, Sacchi."
But before they had proceeded even thus far, Antonio had re-entered
the house, and was conversing eagerly with the young Marquis de Vitry.
"If you will but let me have half a dozen common troopers, my lord,"
said he--"I know not how many this man may have with him--but I will
risk that."
"But who is he? who is he?" asked De Vitry, "and what are your causes
of suspicion?"
"Why I told you, my lord," replied Antonio, "he is that tall
big-limbed Ferrara man who is so great a favourite with the Count
Regent--Buondoni is his name. Then, as to the causes of suspicion, I
came upon Ludovic and him talking in the gallery of the castle last
night, and I heard the count say, 'Put him out of the way any how; he
is a viper in my path, and must be removed. Surely, Buondoni, you can
pick a quarrel with the young hound, and rid me of him. He is not a
very fearful enemy, I think, to a master of fence like you!' Thereupon
the other laughed, saying, 'Well, my lord, I will set out to-night or
to-morrow, and you shall hear of something being done before Thursday,
unless Signor Rovera takes good care of his young kinsman.' 'Let him
beware how he crosses me,' muttered the Moor. And now, Signor de
Vitry, I am anxious to warn my young lord of what is plotting against
him."
"After all, it may be against another, a different person from him you
suppose," replied De Vitry. "This Buondoni, if it be the same man, was
insolent to young De Terrail, and Bayard struck him. We also were
going to halt at the Villa Rovera, and Ludovic knew it."
"But, my lord," exclaimed Antonio, "do you not perceive--"
"I see, I see," replied De Vitry, interrupting him: "I know what you
would say. Ludovic has no cause to hate Bayard or to remove him; it
was but Buondoni's private quarrel. There is some truth in that. Are
you sure these men just arrived are his servants?"
"As sure as the sun moves round the earth," replied Antonio.
"Nay, that I know nought of," answered De Vitry; "but here they come,
I suppose. Find out De Terrail, Antonio. Tell him to take twenty men
of his troop and go forward with you. You can tell him your errand as
you go. I will deal awhile with these gentlemen, and see what I can
make out of them."
Antonio retired quietly keeping to the shady side of the large
ill-lighted hall, while the three freshly-arrived travellers moved
slowly forward, with a respectful air, toward the table near which De
Vitry sat.
"Give you good evening, gentlemen," said the marquis, turning sharply
round as soon as he heard their footsteps near. "Whence come you?"
"From Pavia, my lord," said Sacchi, a large-boned, black-bearded man.
"And what news bring you?" inquired the French commander. "None, my
lord," replied the man; "all was marvellous peaceful."
"Ay, peace is a marvel in this wicked world," answered De Vitry.
"Called you at the Villa Rovera as you passed?"
"No, sir--that is, we stopped a moment, but did not call," replied
Sacchi.
"And what did you stop for?" asked the Frenchman.
"Only just to--to be sure of our way," replied Sacchi.
"And you came from Pavia, then?" said De Vitry. "You must have set out
at a late hour, especially for men who did not rightly know their way.
But methinks I saw you in Milan this morning. Will you have the bounty
to wake that gentleman at the end of the table, who has gone to sleep
over his wine?"
He spoke in the calmest and most good-humoured tone, without moving in
his seat, his feet stretched out before him, and his head thrown back;
and the man to whom he spoke approached the French officer who was
seated sleeping at the table, and took him by the shoulder.
"Shake him," said De Vitry; "shake him hard; he sleeps soundly when he
does sleep."
Sacchi did as he was bid, and the officer started up, exclaiming:
"What is it? Aux armes!"
"No need of arms, Montcour," answered his commander; "only do me the
favour of taking that gentleman by the collar, and placing him in
arrest."
He spoke at first slowly, but increased in rapidity of utterance as he
saw his officer's sleepy senses begin to awaken. But Montcour was
hardly enough roused to execute his orders, and though he stretched
out his hand somewhat quickly towards Sacchi's neck, the Italian had
time to jump back and make toward the door.
De Vitry was on his feet in a moment, however, and barred the way,
sword in hand. The other servants of Buondoni rushed to the only other
way out; but there were officers of De Vitry's band not quite so
sleepy as Montcour, and, without waiting for orders, they soon made
three out of the four prisoners. The other leaped from the window and
escaped.
"My lord, my lord, this is too bad!" exclaimed Sacchi; "you came here
as friends and allies of the noble regent, and you are hardly ten days
in the country before you begin to abuse his subjects and servants."
For a moment or two De Vitry kept silence, and gazed at his prisoner
with a look of contempt. The man did not like either the look or the
silence. Each was significant, but difficult to answer; and in a
moment after, De Vitry having given him over to one of the subaltern
officers, nodded his head, quietly saying:
"We understand you, sirrah, better than you think. If I were to
consider you really as a servant of Prince Ludovic, I might remark
that the regent invited us here as friends and allies, and we had been
scarcely ten days in the land ere he sent you and others to murder one
of our officers, and a kinsman of our king; but I do not choose to
consider you as his servant, nor to believe that he is responsible for
your acts. The king must judge of that as he finds reason, and either
hang you or your master, as in his equity he judges right. As to other
matters, you know your first word was a lie, that you do not come from
Pavia at all, and that the beginning and end of your journey was the
Villa Rovera. What you have done there I do not know, but I know the
object of your master."
"But, sir, I have nought to do with my master's business," replied
Sacchi. "I know nought of his objects; I only know that I obey my
orders."
"Hark ye! we are wasting words," said De Vitry. "Doubtless you will be
glad to know what I intend to do with you. I shall keep you here till
an hour before daybreak, and then take you on to the villa. If I find
that one hair of Lorenzo Visconti's head has suffered, I will first
hang your master, the worshipful Signor Buondoni, on the nearest tree,
and then hang you three round him for the sake of symmetry. I swear it
on the cross;" and he devoutly kissed the hilt of his sword.
Sacchi's face turned deadly pale, and he murmured:
"It will be too late--to-morrow--before to-morrow it will be done."
"What is that you mutter?" said De Vitry; "what do you mean will be
done?"
"Why, my lord," replied the man, "my master--my master may have some
grudge against the young lord Lorenzo. He is a man of quick action,
and does not tarry long in his work. I know nought about it, so help
me Heaven! but it is hard to put an innocent man's life in jeopardy
for what may happen in a night. Better set off at once and stop the
mischief rather than avenge it."
"So, so!" said De Vitry; "then the story is all too true. Bayard!
Bayard!"
"He has just passed into the court, seigneur," replied one of the
young officers who was standing near the window; "he and some others
are mounting their horses now. Shall I call him?"
"No, let him go," answered the leader; "he is always prompt and always
wise. We can trust it all to him. As for these fellows, take them and
put them in an upper room where they cannot jump out. Set a guard at
the door. You, signors, best know whether your consciences are quite
clear; but if they be not, I advise you to make your peace with Heaven
as best you may during the night, for I strongly suspect, from what
you yourselves admit, that I shall have to raise you a little above
earthly things about dawn to-morrow. There, take them away. I do not
want to hear any more. Our good King Louis, eleventh of the name, had
a way of decorating trees after such a sort. I have seen as many as a
dozen all pendent at once when I was a young boy, and I do not know
why it should go against my stomach to do this same with a pack of
murderous wolves, who seem made by Heaven for the purpose of giving a
warning to their countrymen."