In a small but richly-decorated room in Naples sat three gentlemen in
the picturesque, the beautiful costume of the times. Two were mere
youths compared with the other, and yet he was a man far on the sunny
side of middle age. Before them was a table bearing upon it dried
fruits and some wine; and many vases of fair flowers were placed upon
the board and in different angles of the chamber. The expression on
the countenance of each was somewhat grave, but it was more striking
on that of the elder man, as his face and features were, even when at
rest, of a playful turn, gay, frank, and beaming.
"I do not like this, my young friends," he said, in a very serious
tone, "I do not like this at all," and he drank off another silver
cupful of the wine.
"You seem to like it well, Seigneur do Vitry," said one of the young
men--"that is to say, if you mean the wine; you have drunk more than I
have ever seen you drink before."
"I have the drunkard's ever-ready excuse, De Terrail," answered De
Vitry; "I drink to drive away care. But I did not mean the wine; it is
good enough, I believe. What I meant was, I do not like this state of
affairs here in Naples, and I asked you two boys to dine with me to
talk with you about it. Why, I believe we three seated here are the
only men left reasonable in this city--the only three Frenchmen, I
should have said; but that will not do either, for one of us is not a
Frenchman by birth; at all events, I may say the only three of the
king's army."
"As for these Neapolitans, they are, I believe, all born mad, so there
is no use taking them into the account at all. Now Lorenzo is
reasonable. He is in love; it is the most sobering thing in the world.
I am reasonable from perhaps somewhat the same cause; but as to you,
De Terrail, I do not understand how you came to retain your senses
when men with white beards lose theirs, unless it be something in your
nature, for you are too perfect a knight not to be proud of your love,
if you had one."
"Well, seigneur," replied Bayard, "it is not my place to find fault
with my elders; my only business is to govern my men and my own
conduct aright, but yet I cannot but say with you that I do not like
this."
"And I as little as either," said Lorenzo; "his Majesty surely cannot
know all that is taking place here. He cannot be aware that we are
daily losing both the respect and affection of the people. Why, when
first we arrived, they seemed almost ready to worship us, and now
every man one meets is ready to lay his hand upon his dagger."
"Ay, that is natural and common in all countries," said De Vitry;
"the common herd are always volatile, one day bowing down to their
fellow-man as an idol, the next day trampling upon him as a dog. But
the worst of it is, we have given them cause to change. We treat the
men like dogs; we consider the women as harlots. We insult men's wives
and their daughters, or do worse, and we kill the husbands and
brothers, or fathers, if they show a regard for their own honour.
Sometimes we get killed ourselves, it is true, and 'twere no pity if
'twas oftener, but for the thinning of the king's ranks, and there are
few enough of us left, I can tell you. Then see, again, how we pillage
and oppress the people? Why, I came suddenly yesterday upon a fellow
of a sutler taking away a poor old man's fish without payment, and the
old fisherman dancing out of his skin with anguish. I had the
scoundrel tied up to the strappado, and made his back acquainted with
the thongs; but what did that matter, when the same thing takes place
every day unpunished."
"But what you say about their women is the worst," replied Bayard;
"they are naturally a jealous people here in Naples, and we certainly
do give them good cause for jealousy. We not only treat them as if we
had conquered them, when, in truth, we have hardly struck a stroke or
crouched a lance, but as if we had made them slaves."
"We should have respected them more if they had fought us better,"
said Lorenzo, who had listened without seeming to attend. "Have you
heard what the pope says? He declares that King Charles has passed
through Italy, not sword in hand, but chalk in hand. He means, I
suppose, that we have had nothing to do but to mark out our quarters.
That is a hard word for an Italian to speak or an Italian to hear."
"It is very true though, Visconti," said De Vitry. "I wonder what can
have made such a change among the people. The Italian great companies
used to fight us as well or better than any other men in the world."
"It was those great companies themselves which caused the decline of a
warlike spirit in the land," said Lorenzo; "at least I think so, my
lord. When the prince depends for support on his throne, and the
peasant for protection in his cottage, upon the hands and arms of
mercenaries, the social prospects of a country are very sad. Wealth
may indeed grow up, luxury extend itself, arts be cultivated; but the
hardy spirit, the power of endurance, the sense of self-reliance, are
gone.
"For many years, here in Italy, the great companies formed the chief
dependence of Italian states, and the company of St. George was the
school of Italian chivalry; but, in the meantime, the people lost
their skill and their courage in war, and when those great companies
melted away, as they did but a few short years ago, they felt
themselves, like the Britons when abandoned by the Romans, unable to
defend themselves against their enemies or to protect their friends."
"Well, really, Lorenzo, I know not how the Britons felt, or when they
were abandoned by the Romans," said De Vitry, laughing. "I am no great
scholar in history, but I know the Britons make very good soldiers
now, as we have felt in France. But let us talk of things not quite so
far away. I fear that while we are enjoying ourselves here, and losing
the love of the people, there are storms gathering in the north, which
may break pretty hard upon us if we do not mind."
"I know it too well," replied Lorenzo; "I heard the facts first in
Rome from Cardinal Borgia, and related the whole to the king."
"Ay, Cæsar Borgia! Cæsar Borgia!" said De Vitry. "I doubt much his
good faith, and would sooner have him for an enemy than a friend."
"Why so, seigneur?" asked De Terrail. "I would always have men my
friends if I can, my enemies only when I must."
"I will tell you why, good friend," answered De Vitry. "If Cæsar were
my enemy, I would cut his throat in ten minutes; if he were my friend,
he would poison me in five. But this matter weighs upon my mind, and I
thought that perhaps you, Lorenzo, might do something to awaken the
king to the true state of affairs, being admitted so much to his
privacy."
Lorenzo shook his head almost sadly, saying, "I can do nothing, my
lord. As to the licence of our soldiery, the king gives orders which
are not obeyed, and he loves not to hear complaints. As to the
menacing state of things in our rear, he depends upon his Highness of
Orleans being able to join us with strong reinforcements. He has
already passed the Alps, I hear."
"With men enough to give us help were he with us, not to force a
passage to us," said De Vitry; "and, by Heaven! it's just as well that
he should not be here at present, for how the duke and the rufflers
who are with him would take what has happened this morning it is hard
to say."
"Why, what has happened?" asked Bayard and Lorenzo both together. "We
heard of nothing particular when we rode in from Portici."
De Vitry smiled. "It is nothing very particular now-a-days," he said,
"but, by my faith, such things did not often happen when I was your
age, lads. Stephen de Vese, whom we all can remember, the king's valet
de chambre, has been made a duke, and has got a nice little slice of
the Kingdom of Naples to make up his duchy. I wonder what will come
next?"
"But the worst of all is, these witty Neapolitans know all this; and
though they are very sore at seeing every office, and benefice, and
confiscated estate given to Frenchmen, they laugh to see the old
nobility mortified by such acts as this. One saucy fellow said that he
thought the king must be a necromancer, for he changed his swine into
lions."
"By my faith," said Bayard, "it does not take much to make a
Neapolitan lion. Heaven forbid, however, that any of us should grumble
at what the king is pleased to do. But I cannot be so grave, my lord,
as you and our friend Lorenzo seem to be. The Duke of Orleans will
fight his way through to us, or we to him, depend upon it. Visconti
has been as sad, as solemn all day as a crow in a rain-storm."
"No, no, De Terrail," said Lorenzo, "I have neither been sad nor
solemn, though a little silent, perhaps. The fact is, yesterday was
the day when my messenger should have returned from Florence, and I am
anxious for his arrival."
"Ay, that fellow of yours, Antonio," said De Vitry, laughing, "has
lost his way at length, I warrant. I had as near as possible thrown
him into the river once for letting me mislead myself;" and he went on
to tell the story of the broken bridge, much to the amusement of his
two companions.
"Hark! there is a horse's feet coming at a gallop," said Bayard.
"Nothing new going wrong, I trust!" and approaching the window, he
looked out into the street; then, turning round his head, he said with
a laugh, "The old story of the devil, my good lords. Antonio, on my
life, Lorenzo."
Lorenzo turned a little pale with very natural agitation. Since his
departure from Florence he had heard nought of Leonora, and if it is
terrible even in these days of comparative security and peace, to be
without intelligence of those we love--if treacherous imagination
brings forth from the treasury of Nemesis all the dangers and
misfortunes which surround mortal life, and pile them up on the head
of the beloved, how much more dreadful must it have been in those
times, when real dangers, perils, and misfortunes without number
dogged the steps of every-day life, and were as glaring and apparent
as the sun at noon?
It must be remembered, too, that he was very young; that his early
life had been clouded with misfortune, teaching the young heart the
sad lesson of apprehension; that, since fortune had smiled upon him
again, he had found none to love till he had met with the dear girl
who had given her whole soul to him, and to whom his whole soul had
been given in return; that by the very intensity of their passion they
stood, as it were, alone and separate from the rest of mankind,
relying, dependent upon, and wrapped up in each other, and that for
four long months they had neither seen nor held any communication with
each other. It will be easily understood how, on the return of his
courier from Florence, agitation shook him to the very soul. He would
gladly have started up and run down to meet the messenger; but fear of
the laugh of his companions restrained him, and he sat mastering his
emotions as best he could.
Antonio was not long ere he ascended, however. His horse's bridle was
thrown over the hook in the wall, a few brief words with the servant
in the gateway followed, and then his light, agile step was heard
coming up the stairs.
"God save you, my lord!" said Antonio, entering the room, "here is a
packet from your fair lady."
"Did you see her? Is she well? Is she happy?" asked Lorenzo, cutting
the silken threads, which bound the letter, with his dagger.
"I did see her, my lord, and she is quite well, but not happy, thank
God!" said Antonio, in his usual quaint way.
"Not happy?" said Lorenzo, pausing just as he had begun to read; "not
happy?"
"Yes, my lord, not happy. Heaven forbid that she should be over happy
while you are away. Oh, she told me a long and very pitiful tale of
how miserable she had been, thinking of how often you had been killed
and wounded in the great battles and sieges that never took place
between Rome and Naples. Seven times she dreamed you were dead, and
had all the trouble of burying you over and over again."
"Hush, hush, my good friend Antonio; I am in no mood for such
bantering just now," said Lorenzo, and turned to his letter again.
But the pertinacious Antonio, though he left his young lord to read,
could not help pouring forth some of the joyful fun, which welled up
in his heart whenever he was the bearer of good news, upon his
master's young friend, De Terrail.
"By the bones of St. Barnabas!" he said, "the lady was looking sad
enough when I first found her out, perched up on the high terrace
overlooking the Mugnione, but when she saw me, she had nearly jumped
out of the window with joy. But when I told her my lord was well, and
that I had brought her a letter from him, I thought she would have
kissed me--all for joy too. Well, she did not, or I should not have
dared to come back again, for murder and kisses will come out some
way."
Lorenzo's face, as he read on, lighted up with an expression of
comfort and joy such as it had not borne for many a day, and many an
emotion, though all happy, passed over his countenance, like the
lights and shades of a bright spring day over a sunny landscape.
At length he laid the letter on his knee with a deep sigh, and paused
for a moment in thought. As for his two companions, Bayard had smiled
at Antonio's description of his meeting with Leonora, but De Vitry sat
grave and almost stern, with his thoughts apparently far away.
At length Lorenzo woke up from his meditations, and raised the letter,
saying, "Here are some lines for you too, Seigneur De Vitry."
"Then, in the fiend's name, why did you not tell me before?" exclaimed
De Vitry, with a start, and looking really angry. "Here have I been
sitting this half hour envying you that letter, and you never let me
know that I have a share in it. Read, read, and let me know what it
is."
"Tell the Marquis De Vitry," said Lorenzo, reading, "that I have heard
from my dear cousin Blanche Marie, and that she wishes to know if he
wears her glove still, and what fortune it has found. She says, if he
has not forgotten her, and any couriers pass by Pavia, she would fain
hear of his health."
"Is that all!" exclaimed De Vitry. "Bless her dear little soul, and
her beautiful eyes, that look like two blue mountain lakes reflecting
heaven; I have carried her glove wherever it could gain glory; but
very little of that commodity is to be won in this mere marching war,
and wherever it does occur, you must needs slip in, Visconti, and take
it all to yourself. I shall have to cut your throat some day in order
to get my own share. Well, I will write to her, though, by the Lord,
it is so long since I have handled a pen, that I know not what I shall
make of it. I would send a courier on purpose, if I thought he could
make his way through that dangerous bit between Florence and Milan."
"He could not do it, my lord," said Antonio, "for the whole country
there is up in arms, and a courier known to be from the French army
could not pass. I only got through as far as Florence because I had an
Italian tongue in my head. I told them I was a servant of Count
Ascanio Malatesta; and, whether there is such a personage or not in
the world, they let me pass on account of his good name."
"Then we shall have to march back ourselves, as I always thought we
should," said De Vitry, "and I shall be the bearer of my own letter.
Well, the sooner the trumpet sounds to horse the better. What say you,
De Terrail?"
"The sooner the better, by all means," answered Bayard: "but let us
hear a little more of this, my good friend Antonio. You must have
seen a good deal by the way. Cannot you give us a notion how things
are going?"
"Assuredly, my lord," replied Antonio: "I always wake with both eyes
open, and sleep with only one shut. In the first place, I saw many
fine men and pretty women, and many good towns and strong castles; but
I remarked one thing, which was, that most of the men had harness on
their backs, that the armourer's shops were very busy, and that the
work the ladies liked best were embroidered scarfs and sword-knots.
Moreover, in those good towns and strong castles the masons were very
busy on the outside walls, and people with teams of oxen were hauling
up long tubes, and piling up heavy balls beside them.
"Then, as I passed through Rome, I found that his pious and immaculate
Holiness was holding a Consistory, in which, people said, he was
proposing to the cardinals this knotty point, on which he had decided
in his own mind already, viz. whether he should join the league
against the King of France or not? I rode, moreover, with some
messengers journeying from Venice; some addressed to our king from
Monsieur de Commines, and some to the Venetian ambassador here."
"Could you obtain any intelligence from them?" asked De Vitry,
eagerly.
"Oh yes, my lord!" said Antonio, with a laugh; "every man has a weak
side somewhere, and if I can be but three days with him--as I was with
these men--I have plenty of time to walk round him and find out where
his weak side is. I pumped out of them all they had to tell when we
were yet two days from Naples, and it amounted to this, that the
Venetians joined the league some time ago; that the King of Spain is
as far in as any of them; that the emperor is ready to attack the king
on one side, and Burgundy on the other; so that we may expect a pretty
warm reception if we march back, and a pretty hot house if we stay
here."
"By Heaven! you must tell all this to the king," said De Vitry,
greatly excited. "Lorenzo, can you--but no! I will do it myself. Why
should I put upon another what it is my own duty to do? Hark ye,
Antonio! be with me this night at seven. I must have audience just
before his _coucher_, otherwise we shall have a pack of those lazy
bishops and cardinals with us. On my life, I do think the Cardinal of
Rouen must have two or three pretty mistresses in Naples, he is so
unwilling to leave it. Can you come, man? speak! for it is true that
every loyal subject should do his best to rouse Charles from his
apathy. Something must be determined speedily."
"I can, of course, my lord," replied Antonio, more gravely than usual,
"if it is Signor Visconti's pleasure to spare me. I shall only have to
tell Jacques Gregoire to wake me up with one bucket of water, and
bring back my scattered senses with another, for, to say sooth, I am
mighty tired and somewhat stupid with riding so many hundred miles in
such a hurry."
"Here, drain off the rest of the flask," said De Vitry; "there is
enough there to besot a Fleming. It may bring you to life. Let us see
you take a deep draught."
Antonio did not disappoint him, but saw the bottom of the vessel
before he took it from his lips. As soon as he had done, however, he
said, "Well, my lords, I will humbly take my leave, and wait in his
antechamber, like other poor fools, till my patron comes back. I have
certain little particulars for his own private ear, which----"
"About what?" asked De Vitry, gaily, resolved to pay Lorenzo back a
smile he had seen upon his lips while he was reading Blanche Marie's
message--"about what, Antonio. Speak out, or we shall think it
treason."
"My lord, 'tis but about how much bacon the horses ate upon the road,
and how much hay I consumed; how much wine they drank, and how much
water I tippled; how I fell under the wrath of a magistrate for eating
raw cabbages in a man's garden when I was tied by the bridle to one of
the posts thereof, and how my horse had to do penance in a white sheet
for certain vices of his which shall be nameless."
The whole party laughed, and De Vitry sent the man away, commending
him for a merry soul, and telling him to bid the man at the door bring
up more wine. Lorenzo, however, would drink no more. There was nectar
enough in Leonora's letter without wine, and he was anxious to hear
all those details--those never-sufficient details--on every word of
which a lover pleases to dwell.
Antonio had not been gone five minutes ere Lorenzo rose and followed.
A smile came upon the faces of both his friends, but De Vitry
exclaimed, "Well, let those laugh who win, De Terrail: now I would
give a thousand golden ducats to be just in his case."