There was a little monticule by the road-side just on the Tuscan
frontier. At the distance of about three quarters of a mile in front
was the small fortified town of Vivizano with its citadel, seeming
strong and capable of defence; but the walls were old, especially
those of the town, and along the flat, and apparently perpendicular
faces of the curtain, the goats, unconscious of danger, were walking
quietly along, browsing on those fresh shoots of the caper plant,
which frequently appear during a benign autumn. At a distance it
seemed that there was not footing even for a goat, but the presence of
those animals showed the mortar to have been worn out between the
stones; and at one spot the keen eye of Lorenzo Visconti perceived
three or four of the bearded beasts of the mountain gathered together
as if in conclave. He marked the fact well, for he had learned that
nothing should escape a soldier's notice.
He and his party had taken up their position on the little hill in
consequence of orders received from the main body, which was coming up
rapidly, and no opposition having yet been met with in the course of
the march, Leonora and her women sat on their horses and mules beside
him, little anticipating any danger.
"It looks a beautiful old place, Lorenzo," said Leonora; "at least at
this distance, though one cannot tell what it may be within. But what
made the king order you to halt here as soon as you came in sight of
the town, instead of marching on as before?"
"I cannot tell," replied her lover, "unless, dear girl, it is that I
sent last night to know if I might fall back to confer with your
severe relation, the Cardinal Julian de Rovera as to the journey to
Bologna. The roads may part here. Do you not see that yellow streak
running away through the meadows, and then skirting the foot of the
mountain? That may be the highway to Bologna perhaps. The king is
always kind and considerate."
"Jesu Maria!" cried Madonna Mariana, "what's that?"
The moment before she spoke a flash, sudden and bright, glanced along
a part of the old wall, and after a second or two the loud boom of one
the cannons of those days burst upon the ear. Hardly had it ceased
when a ball came whizzing by, and ploughed up the earth some fifty
yards behind them, and at about the same distance on the right.
"By heavens!--they have fired a falconet at us," exclaimed Lorenzo.
"Back, back, dear Leonora; you and your women ride to that cottage
behind the point of rock. Nay, delay not, beloved. I will send some
men to keep guard."
"I am not afraid," replied Leonora, with a smile, leaning over towards
him, and looking up in his face. "Am I not to be a soldier's bride,
Lorenzo? I must accustom myself to the sound of cannon. Those good
people must fire better ere they frighten me."
"But they frighten me, dear lady," cried Mariana. "Oh, come back, come
back! I am sure they fired well enough to come so near us."
"Oh, come back! come back!" cried all the maids in chorus.
"Well, go--go," answered Leonora; "I will join you in a moment or two.
I want to see them take another shot."
The women waited for no further permission, but hurried off with all
speed, and Lorenzo was still engaged in persuading Leonora to follow
them, when a small troop of men-at-arms came galloping up the pass. At
their head was De Terrail.
"Halt--halt here, and form upon the company of the Seigneur di
Visconti," cried the young Bayard. "My lord, I bear the king's orders
to you to advance no further, but to wait for his personal presence.
He thought, indeed, you had gone farther than he had commanded when he
heard that shot. It was a cannon, was it not?"
"A cannon, and not badly aimed for the first shot," replied Lorenzo;
"there is the furrow the ball made."
"For God's sake send the lady to a place of safety," cried Bayard;
"what are you thinking of, my friend?"
"I cannot persuade her to go," replied Lorenzo.
"Well, I will--I will," answered Leonora, turning her horse's head.
"Farewell, Lorenzo; win fame for your lady's sake--yet be not rash."
Something bright glistened in her eye; and she turned to the cottage
where her women had already taken refuge. A small guard was then
stationed at the door, and the trumpets of the cavalry were already
heard blowing through the pass, but still Lorenzo and his friend had
time to exchange a few words before the head of the array appeared.
"What is the king going to do?" asked Lorenzo.
"Attack the town and take it," replied De Terrail. "On my soul, these
Tuscans are rather bold to make a stand in such a place as that. But
they have good bombardiers it would seem. That ball came far and
well."
"Who leads the attack?" asked Lorenzo. "Was anything settled when you
came away?"
"Nothing fixed," answered Bayard; "but I fear it will all be left to
the Gascons and the Swiss. They are all infantry, you know, and if the
place is to be taken by a _coup de main_ they must do it, and we
support them. The popguns[1] they carry, it is supposed, will do
everything."
"Out upon their popguns!" cried Lorenzo. "Good faith, I trust the king
will let us have our share; it is my right, I think. I have led during
the whole march, and I have heard say, he who does so, is privileged
to make the first charge."
"But what would you do?" asked Bayard. "You would not charge those
stone walls, would you?"
"No," replied the other; "but I would dismount my men, take none but
volunteers, and lead them as _enfants perdus_. If the king will but
consent, I will undertake to carry that place sword in hand, or, at
least, be as soon in as any one."
Another shot from the walls, coming still nearer than the preceding
ball, interrupted their conversation, and before it could be renewed,
the Gascon infantry began to debouche from the path and deploy to the
left. Then came the Swiss infantry, and then a body of cavalry, under
the Count d'Entragues. All was glitter and display, shining arms,
waving banners, nodding plumes, lances and pikes, arquebusses,
crossbows, halberts, surcoats of silk and cloth of gold and silver;
but what most struck the eyes of the two young soldiers was the
admirable array of the Swiss infantry, as every movement and evolution
was performed. No rank was broken, no disorder appeared, but shoulder
to shoulder, man treading in the step of man, they marched, they
wheeled, they deployed, as if the body of which they formed a part was
one of those machines which change their form continually at the will
of those who manage them, without ever losing their solidity.
At length appeared the magnificent escort of the king, who immediately
rode up to the little hill on which Lorenzo was posted, and gazed
forward towards the town, while two more shot from the walls were
heard, and a slight agitation among the Gascon infantry on the left,
told that this time some effect had followed.
At the king's first appearance, Lorenzo had sprung to the ground, and
approached his stirrup, but he suffered him to gaze over the scene
uninterrupted, till Charles turned his eyes upon him, and said:
"Well, what has happened, my young lord?"
"Nothing, sire, but that they have fired a few shots at us from the
walls. I beseech your majesty, as I have led all the way, to let me
have my place in the attack. I would fain lead still, if you will
permit me to dismount my men, and I think I will show you that
gentlemen-at-arms can take a place as well as foot soldiers. I have
marked a spot where I will undertake to force an entrance."
"Where? where?" asked the monarch, eagerly.
"I cannot well point it out, sire," replied the young man; "but I can
find it if you will permit me."
The king looked round to the superior officers about him, saying in a
hesitating tone:
"It is contrary to the order we proposed. What say you, La
Tremouille?"
"Why, sire, there must be _enfans perdu_ either taken from the Gascons
or some other," replied the great commander.
"Let him go--let him go!" cried De Vitry, gaily; "if the youth will
wager his life against his spurs, why let him go, sire."
"Support him by the Swiss, and the Swiss by some men-at-arms, to guard
against a sortie, and let him go in God's name," added La Tremouille.
"Make haste, Visconti! Select your men well, and call for some ladders
from the rear."
"Better summon the place first," said the king.
"It is the rule, sire, and should be done," answered the other; "but
methinks these good people imagine they have been summoned already by
the answers they send from their walls. There they go again! By my
life they are aiming at the royal banner. Pity the artillery is so far
behind, or we would answer them in kind. From that youth's eye,
however, I think we shall have no need of bombards. He has spied some
advantage, I will stake my life."
A trumpet was accordingly sent forward, and was suffered to approach
close to the walls; but he returned with the answer that the garrison
was strong, had been placed there by the Signoria of Florence, and
could not consent to surrender without a stroke struck. In fact, they
saw that no artillery was present at the time with the king's army,
and did not believe the place could be taken without a breach being
made.
In the meantime Lorenzo had addressed a few words to his troop, asking
who would accompany him to lead the attack. Such was the confidence he
had gained during the march that every man sprung to the ground and
professed himself ready, even to the lowest casstelier. Only fifty,
however, were selected, and the rest ordered to remain with the
horses. Some scaling-ladders were procured, and all was ready to
advance when the trumpet returned. A short pause ensued, and then was
heard the beat of the drum.
Lorenzo sprang forward; his men came rapidly after, bearing the
ladders horizontally; and the Swiss followed with an interval of some
fifty yards. A strong body of Gascons, with petards, directed their
course towards one of the gates of the town; and a battalion of Swiss
moved towards a postern, which had been discovered in the curtain. But
Lorenzo was before them all, and lost not an inch of ground. Straight
towards what seemed to the eye of the king the most inaccessible spot
of the fortress he bent his way, taking advantage of every undulation
of the ground to shelter his men from the cannon-balls, which now came
somewhat faster than at first, till he arrived within fifty paces of
the spot where he had marked the goats climbing and standing. There in
a little ravine, which the guns, as they were planted on the walls,
could not bear upon, he turned for one moment to the men, exclaiming:
"Here, gentlemen, I have seen the goats go up and down, and surely we
can do so too. The lowest part is the most difficult. The ladders--the
ladders to the front; now, on with a rush!"
All were active, all were strong. The ditch, then dry, was speedily
reached; and the ladders raised. They were too short to approach the
summit of the wall, but Lorenzo's keen eye had not deceived him. Where
he had seen the goats gathered together several huge stones had
fallen; and, from that spot, there was a clear but narrow pathway up.
At first it seemed as if he would meet but small resistance; for
attacked in three quarters and divided in opinion amongst themselves,
the superior officers of the Florentine garrison were consulting
whether it would not be better to hang out a white flag and treat for
a surrender. But speedily, soldiers came running along the platform
above, hand guns and cross-bows were pointed at the ascending party,
and large stones were cast down upon their heads. It was too late to
treat now: the attack had fully commenced, the struggle was for life
or death, and the defenders fought with the energy of despair.
In the meantime there were many and varying feelings in and around the
cottage above where Leonora and her women had taken refuge. Fear--for
with all the personal courage she had shown, and with an eager longing
for his renown, the young girl still felt for her lover's safety.
Fear, and hope, and anxious expectations succeeded each other in
Leonora's bosom, like the changing aspects of a dream. Now she saw him
in imagination mangled and bleeding in the fight; now beheld him
carrying the banner of France triumphantly over the worsted foe; now
fancied him still detained with the cavalry on the hill, and fretting
at inaction.
"Run out--run out, Antonio!" she cried, after bearing the struggle in
her heart for some time, "see what has become of your lord, and let me
know if he be still on the hill."
"Certainly, Signora, if you desire it," answered the other, "although,
thank Heaven, I am one of God's peaceable creatures, and love not
cannon-balls more than my neighbours, yet, where not more than one man
out of five hundred is likely to be hit during a whole day, I may take
my chance for five minutes without gaining the evil reputation of a
fighting man."
He went out as he spoke, but stayed more than the five minutes; for to
say the truth, he soon became interested in the scene, as he beheld
the three bodies of French troops moving down to the assault. He could
not, it is true, discover to which body his young lord was attached,
but he saw clearly enough that he had left the hill. The horses and
the men not engaged had moved towards the rear out of cannon shot, and
the little monticule was now occupied only by the king, his Scottish
archers and several of his counsellors and immediate attendants.
After watching for a few moments, Antonio glided in amongst the horses
till he reached the side of young Bayard, and pulling his surcoat, he
said, "Signor de Terrail, will you tell me where Signor Visconti is?"
"There!" answered Bayard, pointing with his hand, "he is leading the
centre attack at the head of the forlorn hope."
"God shield us!" exclaimed Antonio, "is he fool enough to plunge into
forlorn hopes, when he has got such warm ones in that cottage there?"
"Ah, I had forgot the lady," replied de Terrail, "she must doubtless
be anxious."
"Ay, as anxious as a hen who sees her brood of ducklings venture into
a pond," answered Antonio.
"Tell her I will come and bring her news from time to time," replied
Bayard, "a lady's fears are to be reverenced, my good friend,
especially when she nobly sends her lover to the field with
strengthening words. Go, and say all goes well, and I will come and
bear her tidings."
Thus saying, while Antonio turned back to the cottage, the young hero
fixed his eyes upon the small party of his friend, and never lost
sight but for a moment or two, when some irregularity of the ground or
the masses of the Swiss infantry interposed, of the surcoat of violet
and gold, which Lorenzo wore that day.
"They are nearing the wall," said the king aloud, "God send the youth
has not deceived himself; but he will be there before the others reach
the gates."
"Look, sire, there is a rush!" cried La Tremouille.
"He has got three ladders up by Heaven?" exclaimed de Vitry, "now God
speed you, brave heart!"
The Swiss quickened their pace to support, and as they poured in over
the rise in the ground hid the _enfants perdus_ from sight, and all
for a moment or two seemed confusion, while the defenders upon the
walls alone appeared distinctly, hurling down masses of stone, and
firing upon the assailants from every embrasure. At length, however, a
figure appeared on the top of one of the ladders, carrying a banner in
his left hand. He sprang, as it appeared at that distance, straight
against the side of the wall. But he gained footing there; and then
bounded up towards the summit. Another, and another followed; but
still the banner bearer was the first; and at length, though
surrounded evidently by a crowd of foes, he stood firm upon the
parapet and waved the flag proudly in the air, while a gleam of
sunshine broke through the cloud of smoke and shone upon the surcoat
of violet and gold.
"Visconti for a thousand crowns?" cried Bayard enthusiastically, "he
is first in, he has won the town!"
"Are you sure it is he?" demanded the king.
"Certain, sire," replied De Terrail, "I have kept my eye on him all
the time. I can see his surcoat distinctly."
"Oh, yes, it is he," said La Tremouille, "the Swiss are pouring up
after. The place is taken, and see, they have forced the south gate.
But Visconti is first in. His be the _los!_"
"Your pardon for a moment, sire," said Bayard, "but by your leave I
will carry the tidings to yon cottage behind the angle of the rock.
The Signora Leonora d'Orco is waiting anxious there for tidings. She
sent Lorenzo forth with the words, 'Win fame for your lady's sake.'"
"And he has won it like a paladin," cried Charles, whom everything
that smacked of ancient chivalry kindled quickly into a glow. "In
truth did she say so? 'Twas like a noble lady. Shame is me, I had
forgotten her in this unexpected resistance. Carry her this ring from
me, De Terrail, tell her that Lorenzo has won the town and a pair of
spurs this day!"
"And mind, De Terrail," cried De Vitry, "that you kiss her hand when
you put the ring on her finger. By my faith it is worth kissing,
though I know one still fairer than that."
"Lucky Lorenzo!" thought Bayard as he rode away; but never was man so
little envious of another's good fortune, and though he could not but
regret that he had not been permitted to take part in the assault, no
jealousy of his friend mingled with the sigh that he gave to his own
ill luck.
"All goes well--all goes well, Signora," he cried as he approached the
cottage door at which Leonora was standing. "Visconti has stormed the
town and taken it!"
"Lorenzo--my Lorenzo!" exclaimed Leonora, "so young--he storm the
town!"
"He did, dear lady," replied Bayard, "he scaled the walls, he was
first upon the parapet. I saw him myself with his banderol in his hand
before another soldier entered. The king saw him too, and has sent
you this ring, for we all know that it was your love and your words
that gave him strength and valour to do all he has done this day."
Leonora could bear no more joy, and she bent down her head and wept,
while Bayard gently put the ring upon her finger adding, "His majesty
bade me tell you that Lorenzo has won the town and a pair of spurs
this day."
"Then he is well--then he is uninjured?" said Leonora.
"He may have a scratch or two perhaps," replied Bayard, "but he can
have no serious hurt if I may judge by the way he waved the banderol
on the wall when he had gained it."
"Thank God for that also," said the beautiful girl, "but here, if I
mistake not, comes his majesty himself."
As she spoke, followed by some half dozen of his guard, and
accompanied by an elderly man in the scarlet robes of the highest
clerical rank, the monarch rode slowly up and dismounted at the
cottage door.
"There is no more to be seen there," he said, approaching Leonora,
"the banner of France floats over every tower and gate. So now, fair
lady, I have time to pay my knightly devoirs to you; and moreover to
introduce you to a near relation, who tells me he has not seen you
since you were a child. This is the Cardinal Julian de Rovera."
Leonora made a low obeisance to the king, in whose sweet and somewhat
suffering face she saw a spirit of kindness and generous feeling that
encouraged her, but knelt before the cardinal and reverently kissed
his hand. His was a harsh though handsome countenance, and there was a
flash in his dark eye which seemed to betoken a fiery and passionate
nature.
"Rise, rise, my child," said he good humouredly enough. "I was much
surprised, when a few nights ago, I joined his majesty of France, to
hear that you were journeying with so young a cavalier as this Lorenzo
Visconti."
"It was by my father's express command, your eminence," replied
Leonora, "and besides, as you see, I have not only my own women with
me, but also Mona Mariana here, a person of discreet age, sent with me
by your uncle the count."
A slight smile, unperceived by the cardinal; passed across the sweet
lips of the beautiful girl, as she thought of the amount of Mariana's
discretion.
"Well, well, that is all right," said the hasty cardinal, "and how has
he comported himself towards you, this young lord?"
"With all care and kindness," answered Leonora.
"Ay, doubtless," he answered, "but with reverence too, I hope--sought
to do you no wrong?"
The colour came up into Leonora's cheek, but it was evidently not the
blush of shame.
"Lorenzo Visconti is incapable of doing wrong to any one, my Lord
Cardinal," she said, "and were he not, the last one, methinks, he
would seek to wrong is his promised wife."
"Ay, and has it gone as far as that?" said the cardinal, "pray is this
with your father's knowledge."
"With his knowledge and his full consent, my lord," replied Leonora,
not a little offended at his close questions and harsh manner before
so many witnesses. It must indeed be recollected that Ramiro d'Orco,
though cold in manner towards his child, had left her almost to the
guidance of her own will, before we can judge of the feelings created
by Julian's assumption of authority.
"Well, it is all well, I suppose," replied the old man, "and now,
Signora, can you tell me what it is your young protector wants to say
to me. Doubtless, you know he wrote to his majesty, here present,
requesting to be permitted to fall back in order to confer with me."
"He sought your counsel and directions, my lord," replied Leonora;
"the course of the army had been changed, and marched by Parma instead
of Bologna. My father had also gone on from Bologna, where I was to
have joined him, to Rome, which Lorenzo thought not a fit place for
me, and there were many other reasons which he can explain better than
I can, why he thought you, sir--reverend as you are, by life and
profession--should be consulted as soon as we heard you were near."
A well-pleased smile came upon the face of the old man. "That is as it
should be," he said, in a much mollified tone; "this young Lorenzo, my
child, seems, as I have heard he is, a youth of great discretion and
judgment. You must not think my questions hard; they spring from
regard for Ramiro's child. I will see your young lover, and talk with
him more."
While this conversation had been passing between the Cardinal of St.
Peter's and Leonora, the young King of France had cast himself upon
one of the cottage settles, and was speaking quietly with the Duke of
Montpensier, D'Entragues, and some other officers who had come with
him; but he had heard several of the questions of the cardinal, and he
now joined in saying, "You estimate too lightly, my Lord Cardinal, the
chivalry of our French knights. Lorenzo Visconti has been brought up
at our court, and when a beautiful lady like this is entrusted to his
charge, he looks upon her by the laws of chivalry as a sacred relic
which he has to bear to some distant shrine."
"No reason for his not kissing the relic," said De Vitry, in a low
tone, "indeed, it were but a becoming act of devotion--but who comes
here running like a deer?--One of your Majesty's pages; now God send
nothing has gone wrong."
"What is it, Martin de Lourdes?" asked the king, as the boy bounded
up.
"There is a horseman coming at full speed from the town, sire," said
the youth, "he looks like the Seigneur de Visconti, and Monsieur de la
Tremouille thought it best to let you know."
"But Lorenzo had dismounted," said the king; "his horse, with the rest
of the troop, are up the pass there."
"He could easily find one in the town, sire," said Montpensier. But
while they were discussing the matter, Lorenzo himself rode up, and
dismounted a few steps from the spot where the king was seated. His
surcoat was rent and torn; his crest and helmet hacked with blows, and
in one place dented in; but there was no blood or sign of injury about
him, and his face was flushed with haste and excitement.
"The town is taken, sire," he said, "but I grieve to say there is no
restraining the soldiery. Not only do the rabble of Swiss and Gascons
give no quarter to armed men; but they are killing and plundering the
unarmed and defenceless."
"Let them kill! let them kill, Visconti!" said the Count d'Entragues.
"You must be accustomed to such sights."
"I beseech you, sire, send down a company of men-at-arms, and put a
stop to this cruel disorder."
"They deserve punishment for daring to hold out an untenable place,"
said the young king, sternly, "such is the law of arms; is it not,
Montpensier?"
"Assuredly, sire," replied the duke, "no one can claim quarter as a
right in a town taken by assault, and if the attempt is made to resist
when the place is notoriously untenable, the strict law condemns every
one of the garrison to the cord. I should judge, however, that by this
time the slaughter has gone far enough to strike terror into the other
towns before us. It might, therefore, be as well to send down a few
lances to keep the infantry in order."
"De Vitry, you go," said Charles, eagerly, for cruelty was no part of
his character, "give my express command to cease from pillage and
bloodshed."
"But your Majesty said this youth had won a pair of spurs. I would
fain see them on his heels before I go, and here is a fair lady quite
ready to buckle them on."
"Go--pray go at once, De Vitry," said Lorenzo, "do not stop to jest on
such nonsensical themes. You know not what barbarities are being
committed."
"I do not jest at all," replied De Vitry, "but I will go. To hear the
boy, one would think I was made up of bad jokes."
"It was no joke, Signor Lorenzo," said the king. "You have taken the
first town we have attacked, for I saw you first upon the walls. But
go, my Lord Marquis, restore order in the place, and as you pass the
hill, send down our banner. We will give him the accolade, even here
in his lady's sight, under the royal standard, to encourage others to
serve their lady and their king as well as he has done to-day."