The morning of the 1st of May was dawning over the top of the Ciminian
wood, now called Monte di Viterbo, when twelve persons, wrapped in their
cloaks, traversed the steep road which crosses it, and disappeared among
the trees. They proceeded in silence till they reached an eminence which
overlooked a part of the wood, when Attilio, addressing the Italians,
said, "Here, in this forest, the last advocates of Etruscan independence
sought refuge, beaten and pursued by our fathers, the Romans; and here,
in one of the last battles, they disappeared from among the Italian
tribes--the most ancient, the most famous, and the most gifted people of
the peninsula." Captain Foulard, who understood Italian sufficiently
to comprehend Attilo's speech, and to whom it was indirectly addressed,
replied, "I fancy it was here, or hereabouts, too, that my ancestors,
the Gauls, fought those famous battles with your Roman forefathers, who
would have disappeared from the face of the earth had it not been for
the hissing of their geese."
Attilio, though incensed, answered calmly, "When your forefathers crept
on all fours in the forests of Gaul, our ancestors dragged them out, and
made them stand upon their legs, saying, 'Be human creatures.' Your
modern politeness shows but little gratitude to your former civilizers.
But we came here not to dispute, but to fight." The place at which they
had just arrived was one of those pleasant glades, devoid of trees,
which Nature often hides in the heart of an Italian forest, and which
she adorns prodigally with lavish though concealed beauties. That
tranquil and enchanting spot was, however, now to become the scene of
fury and of bloodshed, for, the position being chosen, and the fifteen
paces measured, the six seconds retired, after exchanging a few words
with their respective companions.
The adversaries were standing ready to rush upon each other. The first
and second signals had been given, and six angry hearts were impatiently
awaiting the third, when a trumpet was heard sounding the advance, and
immediately there appeared in sight, marching along the road by which
the opponents had come, a company of the Pope's foreign soldiers,
followed, by the delegate Sempronio, and a few of his subordinates.
And here we must in justice confess that the officers, though
mercenaries, were much mortified by this occurrence, and almost on the
point of defending their adversaries, and of helping them to escape,
when the command was given by the delegate to the troops to surround the
Italians with fixed bayonets.
To ordinary persons such an order would have sounded like the knell of
all hope, and a hasty flight, if flight had yet seemed possible, would
have been the one remaining idea; but our Romans were men to sustain
any shock or peril, however abrupt, without losing in the least their
presence of mind. At the first sound of the trumpet they cast their
eyes on their antagonists, and saw with satisfaction, by their unfeigned
surprise, that those gentlemen had no previous knowledge of the
approaching cowardly attack, and then, facing their assailants, they
retired without haste, revolver in hand, towards the forest.
The troops, perceiving with wonder, upon their arrival, that some of
their own officers were among the persons they had been directed to
arrest, paused for a moment, uncertain how to act. Sempronio, who had
cautiously placed himself behind them, seeing the untoward result of
what he had been pleased to term his plan of battle, became furious, and
shouted loudly, "Fire--fire on that side! on that side!" pointing to
his own countrymen for whose blood he thirsted, as they slowly retired
towards the cover, which having gained, they turned and faced the
troops.
The soldiers still paused, but the delegate's nearest associates fired
immediately upon the six Italians, and, although screened by the wood,
two of the seconds were slightly hit. Attilio's revolver speedily
avenged his wounded companions. His shot had the fortune to pass
directly through the nose of Father Sempronio (for he was a priest
disguised as an agent), carrying away the bridge of it.
It was a stroke of luck indeed. Sempronio's cries and terrible
lamentations aroused more contempt than pity, for the latter is rarely
expended upon creatures of his despicable character. Roaring and
bleeding, the priest-delegate took to his heels, and ran back to
Viterbo, leaving to the others the execution of his "plan of battle."
The foreign officers were nearly all ashamed of the ugly position in
which they were placed, though the delegate, and not they, had planned
the surprise. The discovery of their names had been made by a spy, and
the excited Sempronio had trusted in this easy manner to secure a batch
of proscribed Italians, and carry them prisoners to Rome, in hopes of
helping himself towards a cardinal's hat.
Sempronio had men like himself among his force, less scrupulous than the
six duellists, especially a certain Captain Tortiglio, the commander of
the company, another cold-blooded Carlist, who thought it would be an
easy matter to get to the end of it by capturing the proscribed, as they
were so few in number. He accordingly resolved to follow them into the
forest.
Our friends, having prayed the wounded to escape deeper into the
thicket, still fronted their enemies as long as they had any shots left,
and for a time, being protected by the trees, they managed to hold their
assailants at bay. But when their ammunition was nearly gone they were
obliged to retire before the soldiers, who were urged on by the
Captain's "Voto a Dios," and, "Carambas," as he followed, swearing he
would capture "these scoundrels," whose arrest, doubtless, would bring
him no small reward from the Papal Government.
Fortunately, Orazio had with him his inseparable horn, and drawing it
forth, he blew the same blast which was heard on his arrival at the
Castle of Lucullus. No sooner had the echo died away, than a sound as of
many steps was heard.
The footsteps were those of the companions of Orazio--a portion of
the three hundred who had re-united in the Ciminian forest, after the
occurrences at Rome already described. They had been awaiting the return
to the rendezvous of their leaders, who had been absent a few days in
Viterbo, upon important business.
But who are they who precede the band, appearing so opportunely on the
scene of action? Who are these graceful commanders? None other than
Clelia and Irene, like the Amazons of old, and at their side is the
intrepid Jack, burning to "do his duty" and be of use in such beautiful
company.
The proscribed, at this welcome accession of strength, did not
discharge a single shot, but, fixing their bayonets, charged the foreign
mercenaries, with the cry of "Viva l'Italia!" and dispersed them as the
torrent disperses twigs and leaves in its headlong course. The soldiers,
terrified at the sudden increase of numbers on the side of the enemy,
and by the furious onset, turned and fled at full speed, regardless of
the threats of their officers, and even the slashes made at them with
sabres.
Captain Tortiglio, who was not wanting in courage, had rushed in advance
of his men, and now stood all alone. He was very much mortified, but
disdained to run away. Attilio was the first to come up to him, and
summoned him to surrender.
"No," cried Tortiglio, "I will not surrender."
Attilio, wrapping his cloak around his left arm, put aside the captain's
sword, as he dealt a savage blow at him, and sprang upon him, holding
his poniard in his right hand. The Spaniard was small of stature, yet
very agile in his movements. He struggled for some time, but the young
sculptor finally lifted him by main force from the ground, and, provoked
by the resistance of the manikin, yet not wishing to kill him, gave him
an overturn upon the ground, as a cook serves a pancake. Happily for
Tortiglio the soil was covered with turf, or not all the science of
AEsclulapius would have sufficed to re-set his broken bones.
The proscribed pursued the soldiers only to the farther edge of the
meadow, where they contented themselves with a few parting shots, and
then turned their attention to the wounded of both sides. Those of
the enemy they sent to Viterbo, under the escort of the prisoners, and
dispatched their own to the interior of the wood, but retained Captain
Tortiglio a little while, more as a hostage than a prisoner. Clelia and
Irene were praised and complimented by all for their promptitude and
courage. Muzio, after kissing their hands, made them a little speech of
victory: "It becomes you well, brave and worthy daughters of Rome," he
said, "to set such an example to our companions, but more especially
to the slothful among Italy's sons, who appear to expect the manna of
freedom to fall from heaven, and basely await their country's liberation
at the hand of the foreigner. They are not ashamed to kiss the rod of
a foreign tyrant, patron, and master; to renounce their own Rome--the
natural and legitimate metropolis of Italy--voted the capital by
parliament, and desired by the whole nation. They are not ashamed to let
her remain a den of priests, of creatures who are the scourge and the
shame of humanity. To women! yes, to women, is descended the task of
extirpating this infamy, since men are afraid or incapable of doing it."
Muzio at this point in his vehement oration in honor of the fair sex,
was suddenly struck dumb by the apparition of another representative
of it in the form of a lovely woman, with the face and carriage, as
he afterwards said, of an angel of heaven, who appeared to him to have
fallen from the clouds, and was standing before him on the road leading
to Viterbo. His eloquence vanished, and he remained motionless as a
statue, although the very silence of the youth showed that he recognized
her to be the adored queen of his heart, English Julia.
Muzio's embarrassment was the less noticed because of Jack's headlong
demonstration, for the sailor, with a hitch at his waistband, sprang
forward towards his beautiful mistress, throwing at the same time even
his precious carbine on the ground, which he never would have abandoned
under any other circumstances for all the surprises in the universe.
When he at last reached Julia, he nearly plucked his forelock out by the
root, so perpetually and persistently did he twitch at it, saluting the
English lady. Poor fellow! a thousand affections and remembrances of
family, friends, and country were centred for him in the person of
that beloved mistress. Julia took the English boy's hand gracefully
and kindly, and Clelia and Silvia embraced her with transports of
friendship, and then presented her to Irene, whose romantic history had
been repeated to her, and whom she had much desired to know personally.
Even the followers of Orazio forgot for a moment their discipline, and
crowded around this charming daughter of Albion, gazing at her with
looks of undisguised admiration. Woman as she was, Julia could not but
feel a thrill of pride and pleasure at the homage of these bold and
honest children of Italy.