THE MARZOCCO INN.
I tried every possible means I could think of to obtain employment, to
no avail, and, in the intervals of my fruitless search for work,
haunted the streets and gardens, with the hope of obtaining another
glimpse of Angiola, but without any success. Inch by inch my resources
diminished, until they became so small that a blind beggar would have
hardly thanked me for the gift of them. I lived in constant dread of
Ceci reappearing to demand the sum I owed for my rent, but he did not
come. He was evidently giving me time, starving me out to surrender to
his terms. I used to see him as I went in and out, sitting in his
office like a spider, yet he never even lifted his head as I passed. I
hated, almost feared, going by that door. Bitterly did I regret not
having left Florence when I was able. It was now impossible to do so,
unless as a defaulter, and the weight of that paltry debt oppressed
me, as if a cannon-ball were slung around my neck. I could not leave
until I paid it, and of doing this there seemed no prospect. I had
parted with my cloak for money to buy food, but the last copper of
that was gone, and I was now penniless. For two days I had not eaten
anything but a morsel of bread, and on the morning of the third day I
rose desperate with hunger, and prepared to go any lengths to satisfy
it. I ate my self-esteem and made another attempt to see La Palisse,
but was denied admittance, and when I came back I actually hesitated
before the door of Ceci's office, and almost made up my mind to yield,
and say I would do his business for him. It required an effort, so low
had I sunk, to rouse my pride. At last it flared up, and with a cheek
hot at my weakness, I sought my chamber and there passed the day. The
pigeons that lived under the eaves opposite my window, and to whose
soft cooing I so often listened with pleasure before, now aroused
other thoughts within me. If I could only lure one within reach! But
it was impossible, and I glared at them as they fluttered and flirted
with each other, with the hungry eyes of a cat baulked of her prey. At
last I gave it up, and with a curse flung myself on my bed. Fool that
I was! Five-and-thirty years should have brought me wisdom. I had
stayed on in Florence, allowed my chances of revenge to get more
distant, in fact, reached a stage of mind when I was doubtful if I
could rightly exact vengeance, drifted into abject poverty, and worse
than that, was continually thinking of a woman, who, when I had
rendered her a service, treated me with contempt, who had no doubt
forgotten me by this time, amidst her duties, if she had any, and her
pleasures, of which I doubt not she had store. So the evening came
amidst my reflections and self-reproaches, and, it being dusk, I
decided to go forth again, and snatch a purse, if necessary, to obtain
food. As I rose, an impulse I could not control made me unfasten my
money-belt, and search if by chance there was a coin within it. Of
course there was not a brown copper, but my fingers, in running up the
belt, touched something hard, and I pulled forth, attached to its tag
of red ribbon, my cross of St. Lazare, which, it will be remembered, I
had placed therein for safety the night I was imprisoned in the Villa
Accolti. I had clean forgot it in my troubles, and now it lay in my
open palm, with the diamonds in it winking in my face. My whole frame
trembled with excitement. Here was the means of freeing myself from
debt at once, and of obtaining funds to quit Florence, nay Europe. At
the lowest computation its worth could have been no less than forty
crowns, and this at present was wealth to me. What with the effects of
the want of food, and the sudden discovery of the cross, I began to
feel weak all over, and flinging the badge on the table, sank down
into a chair before it to compose myself. The room was almost dark,
and I sat staring at the jewels and at the diamonds on it, which
sparkled through the gloom. That little trinket was linked with the
one great event of my life. All the past came vividly before my
excited brain. I was again in that desperate retreat of Charles of
France up the valley of the Taro, with the army of the League in full
cry behind us. The old boar Trevulzio commanded the rear guard,
disputed every inch of the road, and now and again stood boldly at
bay, and gave a taste of his tusks to the Duke of Bari, and the fine
gentlemen of Venice. It was at this moment that Roderigo Gonsaga made
his dash for the heights above the junction of the Ceno and the Taro.
Trevulzio saw the movement; he was powerless to help, and knew that if
it succeeded all was lost. At the time I was at his bridle hand.
"Ride for your life," he said, "and tell the king--that." He pointed
to the black line of the infantry of Spain moving towards the heights.
I was off at once, waiting no second bidding.
I found Charles mounted on Savoy, his one-eyed black charger, one of
the finest horses I have ever seen. The king grasped the situation at
a glance. He gave a sharp order, closed his vizor with a snap, and in
five minutes, a thousand lances followed him down the long slope, up
which the Spaniards were advancing. It was an absolutely silent
charge. Not a cheer went up, and the only sound was the thunder of the
horses' hoofs, and the clink of mail as we sped on after the king.
Then there was a sullen crash, and a sea of struggling men and horses.
The veteran troops of the Great Captain maintained their high
reputation, fighting like dragons to the end.
Charles, whose horse had carried him far in advance of us all, was in
great danger. His helmet had fallen or been struck off, and he was
recognised. Gonsaga, seeing all was lost, made a despairing rush at
the king with a half-dozen men at his back, and had it not been for
the way Savoy kicked and plunged, would have surely slain him. Urging
my horse to its utmost speed, I reached Charles just in time to ward
off a furious blow aimed by the Spaniard at the king, and fading full
tilt against him, brought down both horse and man. The next moment
others came up, and we were safe. Philip de Comines reproached the
king respectfully for running himself into peril; but Charles, wiping
his sword on the mane of his charger, said with a laugh:
"All is well that ends well, my Lord of Argenton; but it is thanks to
this good sword here," and he turned to me, "that our cousin of
Orleans must exercise his patience yet a little longer. Come closer,
sir."
I dismounted and approached helmet in hand. The king detached the
Cross of St. Lazare he wore, and bending from the saddle, slipped the
loop of the ribbon round my neck.
"Wear this for the sake of France," he said with a gracious smile.
And now the patience of Orleans had come to its end, and Louis XII.
was king, and of my hopes and dreams, all that remained was the cross
of the order blinking at me.
It had to go, and there was no help for it. With an effort I rose and,
thrusting the cross into my pocket, hurried into the street. My way
led to the ward of San Spirito, and it took me some little time to
reach the place where I meant to dispose of the jewel. When I reached
it, I was so overcome with weakness that I had to halt for a moment to
rest. It was during that halt, that hesitation of a minute, that my
courage came back to me, and I pulled forth the cross and held it in
my cold fingers with a heart tossed by conflicting emotions. I could
not do it. Death would be preferable. Well, I had faced death before,
and there was no reason why I should not do so again with an equal
mind. The Arno was deep enough to hold me, and God would perhaps be
kinder in the next world than in this. I placed the cross back slowly,
my honour was still white, and death that was coming would give me a
full quittance for all my troubles. I turned my back on the
pawnbroker's, and went towards the Arno; but I had miscalculated my
strength, and near Santa Felicita I felt a sudden giddiness and sank
downwards on the pavement. I struggled to rise, but the faintness
increased, and dragging myself close to the wall I leaned against it
in a sitting posture, and a kind of stupor fell upon me, through which
I still felt the intolerable pangs of hunger. In a little time I felt
better, and as I saw the flash of torches, and heard voices in
laughing conversation, I made an effort to rise, gaining my feet just
as two ladies, with their attendants, came opposite to me, and then I
staggered back again.
"Poor man! He is hurt."
"I am starving," I said in the bitterness of my agony, and the next
moment could have killed myself, for I recognised the ladies whom I
had rescued from Luigi in the Garden of St. Michael. I had my desire
and had seen her again; but how?
Madonna Angiola made a hurried search for her purse, and not finding
it, with a hasty movement tore something off a bracelet, and thrust it
into my hand. Before I could recover from my astonishment they had
gone on, and although I called after them, they did not stop. The
shame of having received charity, and from her, was all but
unbearable; but with it I felt the hand of hunger knocking at me in a
manner that would take no denial. My courage was gone, and urged by
the fierce pangs of my hunger, I resolved to utilise the gift, and
obtain some food to give me strength to die. I smile as I think of
this now. Then it was no laughing matter. I plucked myself up
sufficiently to go back to the pawnshop. Entering it, I placed the
article, which I judged to be a jewel, but which I had not even
examined, before the man in attendance, and asked for an advance
thereon.
"It is one of the gold tari of Amain," he said, poising it on his
finger, "and of full weight. Do you wish to sell it?"
"No," I replied, "I merely wish to pledge it."
"I will give you two crowns," he pushed the money to me, and with it a
receipt. I gathered these up, and staggered rather than walked to the
Marzocco Inn, which lay hard by. There were half-a-dozen people
supping there; but I had no eyes for them, all I could think of was
the pasty, the roll of white bread, and the ruby Chianti, which I
ordered. It is a common belief, that those who have not eaten food for
any length of time, are unable to do so when it is placed before them
at first. Whether I am constitutionally stronger than the generality
of men, I do not know, all I can say is, that I formed an exception to
the rule, if a true one, and demolished my supper, gaining strength
with every mouthful, and feeling my chilled blood warmer with every
drop I drank of my goblet of wine, My courage came back to me, and I
banished all thoughts of the Arno. At last I was done, and leaning
back in my seat, viewed with complacency the huge orifice I had made
in a most excellent pasty, and the whiles slowly sipped my wine. That
feeling of sleepy comfort, which attends like a good angel on a full
meal, possessed me, my sorrows had for the moment taken themselves
off, and I grieve to say I did not even bestow a thought on her, to
whose charity I was indebted practically for my life. I sat for the
moment, lapped in a dreamy comfort, forgetful of all things. I dozed
for about half an hour, and opened my eyes with my head clear again,
and my pulse beating firmly. I had, somewhat recklessly, it is true,
enjoyed a crown's worth of happiness, there was another fat crown
still in my pouch; with care it would last some days, and during that
time luck might turn. With these thoughts running in my head, I let my
eyes wander over the room. It was now somewhat late, and only the
night-birds were left. Of these, a party of five was seated at a table
a little removed from me, and were conversing in low tones. It needed
but a glance to see they were not honest men, and from the suspicious
manner in which they looked around them, I gathered they were here for
no good purpose. One of the party rested his eyes on me, and then
whispered to a companion, who was seated with his face from me. I
caught the answer, which was given in somewhat loud tones. "Even if he
does, what does it matter? Cannot a few gentlemen enjoy a glass in
peace at their ordinary? If he gives trouble we can quiet him."
Could it be? Yes, it was no other than the ancient Brico, who had, I
perceived, got out of the clutches of his friends, the catchpolls of
Montevarchi. I made certain, therefore, I would have business shortly,
and leaning back again, pretended to doze, keeping my ears very wide
open, and holding a watch on the scoundrels from the tail of my eye.
"He tarries late," said one, "perhaps your information is wrong."
"I have it from a sure hand, from the younger Ceci. Buonoccorsi and he
will both be here. The former, however, as you know, we do not want."
I almost started at these words. Was it possible that I had stumbled
on the bravos who were engaged in Ceci's plot? If so, stranger thing
never happened to me, and chance was probably throwing in my way what
otherwise I would never have been able to discover. Even as the last
speaker finished his sentence, two persons, evidently of consequence,
and a woman entered the inn, and set themselves down at a table close
to mine. The men both wore masks, but the lady did not, and let her
glance run with a free look on us all. One of her two companions, a
very stout man, put down his mask, disclosing a jolly rubicund face,
and roared out for a flagon of wine. The other, still keeping his
features covered, engaged in lively badinage with his fair friend, and
as he moved his hand slightly, I caught the flash of a valuable ring.
The five at the table all had their heads together now, and I saw the
one nearest to me stealthily draw his sword. With an apparently
careless movement I so placed my own weapon as to be at hand on the
moment. Presently Brico arose, and swaggering across the room with a
glass in his hand, deliberately stopped before the lady, and drained
it to her health. She laughed back her appreciation, and Brico called
out, "Blood of a King! Madonna, but you waste yourself with His
Corpulence there," and he jerked his hand towards the stout man, who
sat speechless, his cheeks purple with rage. "Come and join us good
fellows here," he added, and attempted to pass his arm around her
waist; but the masked stranger flashed out his rapier, and Brico
only escaped being skewered by an agile retreat. This was, however,
the signal for an instant assault, and with a shout of "A
Medici--_palle_--_palle_," those at the table rushed on the smaller
party. As they rose, I jumped up, and pushed my table with great
violence in their direction. Two of the men fell over it, and this
gave me time to draw my sword and join the weaker party. The lady
rushed out with a scream, and the stout gentleman bellowing lustily
for help followed suit, and made his exit, no attempt being made to
hinder him, the attack being solely directed against the masked man,
who with his back to the wall, and the table between himself and his
assailants, defended himself with great spirit and skill.
Slashing one of the ruffians across the face, which put him out of the
fight, I ranged alongside of the stranger, and a very pretty set-to
ensued. At this juncture the innkeeper entered with half-a-dozen
others, and kept dancing about, adjuring us to stop, but offering no
help. I made for Brico, but could not reach him, having to engage with
a better swordsman than I had met for many a day; but I saw we were
now three to two, for the ancient was more bent on executing
flourishes with his sword, and in cheering on the attack, than on real
business. My opponent was a left-handed man, so anything like a
time-thrust was out of the question. He played the usual game of
left-handed men, namely, a cut over, and disengagement in tierce, but
remising, I forced him to a straight riposte, and pinked him through
the ribs. He fell with a howl, just as my companion ran his man
through. We were now two to two, if Brico was included, but the others
waited for no more and fled, no attempt being made to stay them by the
host. The innkeeper, however, began to make a great to-do; but the
stranger thrust his purse in his hand, and lifting his mask spoke a
few words in mine host's ear. The effect was magical, and the padrone
was now all civility. We had a look at the two men who were down, the
one who was slashed across the face being nowhere to be seen. They
were both quite dead, and an ill-looking pair of corpses did they
make.
"Have these carrion removed, padrone--and beware how you say a word of
what has happened, signore," and the masked man held his hand out to
me, "I thank you heartily, and you will find I have a long memory. Do
me the favour to accompany me to my house."
I had no reason to refuse, and bowing my acknowledgments, we left the
inn.