Collected Works of Rafael Sabatini

by Rafael Sabatini

  VALENTINOIS: Where is your house?

  PANTHASILEA: By the Temple of Minerva. It is the house of Messer Gianluca della Pieve. He is a distant relative.

  VALENTINOIS: And you reside with him?

  PANTHASILEA: Oh no, highness. In his house. He has ceded it to me.

  VALENTINOIS: No matter. You saw the maid go forth. What next?

  PANTHASILEA: That is all.

  VALENTINOIS: All?

  PANTHASILEA: Save that she has not yet returned.

  VALENTINOIS: But you spoke of violence — of murder!

  PANTHASILEA: What else is to be presumed? Why else should she continue absent?

  VALENTINOIS: Little wonder that the Captain of Justice would not take action upon such slender grounds. Wait until the wench returns, madonna.

  PANTHASILEA: But if she should not return?

  VALENTINOIS: Seek my Captain of Justice again. He shall have orders from me.

  PANTHASILEA: Of your charity — of your great justice, highness — will you not give those orders now, orders that search be made for her? Consider what the delay may mean to this poor child. Consider what it means to me, magnificent, who feel myself responsible to the mother who entrusted her to me.

  VALENTINOIS (smiling): When I, need an advocate, Monna Bianca, I shall send for you, I think. Content you. My Captain of Justice shall have commands at once to make such search as you may order.

  [He is standing by the table, and now as he speaks he stoops and scrawls some lines on a sheet of paper. VALENTINOIS: Go to him again with that, and give him all details he may ask. I trust your little maid may be restored to you undamaged. If otherwise — I shall see justice done.

  PANTHASILEA (effusively): I knew that your potency would not deny me.

  VALENTINOIS: You knew that no man could; and you traded a little upon that, I think, madonna. A dangerous — dangerous trade. But your gratitude must give proofs.

  PANTHASILEA: Proofs?

  VALENTINOIS: There are revels here to-night; a supper to the patricians of Assisi, to be followed by a masque. You will grace it with your presence, madonna.

  PANTHASILEA Your magnificence does me too much honour.

  [She curtsies.

  VALENTINOIS (graciously): So that you come, the honour will be of your conferring. Until to-night, Madonna Bianca.

  PANTHASILEA (assentingly, curtsying again): ‘Highness!

  VALENTINOIS: The door, Scipione.

  [SCIPIONE hastens forward to hold the door for PANTHASILEA, who goes out with GIULIA.

  [VALENTINOIS watches her off; then saunters up, speaking to MACCHIAVELLI.

  VALENTINOIS: A very beautiful woman, Master Secretary, and fully aware of it; knowing, too — mark you — though merely country-bred, that beauty is a coinage universally honoured. Ready, as I judge her, to spend it in purchasing whatever she may require of life.

  MACCHIAVELLI: Your highness describes not a woman, but womankind.

  VALENTINOIS: Oho!

  MACCHIAVELLI: And this lady of Spoleto seemed in some ways extraordinary.

  VALENTINOIS: YOU observed it, too, did you? I wonder does anything escape you.

  MACCHIAVELLI: At least all those things that escape your highness; and many that do not.

  VALENTINOIS: Faith, Ser Piccolo, you are yourself the chief of those things...(He crosses to the window, and looks out.)...the most elusive of them all.

  MACCHIAVELLI: I, magnificent! I am candour incarnate — transparent as glass.

  VALENTINOIS (pointing upwards to the arc of the windows): Stained glass — that allows the light to pass in, but nothing to pass out. (He breaks off.) Ah, there she goes, stepping so very proud and dainty...Ah! Who is that? (He cranes forward.) Scipione, you are an Assisian. Who is that man standing in talk with her, do you know?

  [SCIPIONE comes to his side at the window, and looks out.

  SCIPIONE: The gentleman is very vehement, highness.

  VALENTINOIS: Vehement! He is angry. Observe me his arms, thrashing the air like the sails of a windmill. There, now — do you see his face?

  SCIPIONE: Yes...Yes...that’s it. He is Gianluca della Pieve.

  VALENTINOIS: Gianluca della Pieve? Ah, yes, her distant relative. He doesn’t behave like a distant relative. A husband couldn’t better the performance. (Turning from the window.) Gianluca della Pieve, eh? Now where have I heard that name before?

  SCIPIONE: He is the gentleman who abstained when the patricians of Assisi swore fealty to your highness.

  VALENTINOIS: Oh, yes. He was absent then. I wonder where he was. Anyway, he is present now, and he hasn’t troubled to repair the omission. It almost seems as if his absence might have been intentional. (He turns to the window again.) Scipione, I should like to discover where Messer Gianluca della Pieve has been. I should like a word with him. Ah, there he goes, striding off. After him, Scipione. Desire him to attend me here at once.

  SCIPIONE: And if he decline to come?

  VALENTINOIS (dryly): Persuade him.

  [SCIPIONE hurries out by main doors. VALENTINOIS turns to MACCHIAVELLI.

  VALENTINOIS: I wonder now is a connection possible between his absence and the presence here in Assisi of that lady with whom he has the bad manners to be so very angry. Pshaw! I am beginning to start at shadows. But I have walked so long amid snares that...(He shrugs, and laughs.)

  MACCHIAVELLI: That you understand the art of detecting them, however they may be dissembled.

  VALENTINOIS: Do I? I wish I could detect the snare that treachery is preparing for me here in Assisi. I have seen signs, very vague as yet, but very familiar. (He pulls open the breast of surcoat and doublet, displaying the meshes of a shirt of mail.) I go in steel, and I never eat or drink without a venom taster at my elbow to take his chance of hell before me. This it is, Master Secretary, to be a conqueror. To walk ever in the shadow of assassins and worse than assassins. Do I rant?

  MACCHIAVELLI: Nay, highness, I am admiring your restraint.

  VALENTINOIS: Look at my work. This Romagna was a bloody playground for rapacious despots, brigands in authority, glutting themselves like vampires upon their miserable subjects; it has been cleaned out. Saving that robber’s nest of Solignola, the work is done. The Malatesta, the Vitelli, the Varani, the Oliverotti and all the rest of that infamous brood of tyrants are gone. The place no longer reeks like a shambles. Men may breathe, and lift their heads, and go about their honest lives secure in the protection of my laws. Yet Venice plots my ruin, bespatters me with calumny, whilst sending me fawning ambassadors like Sinibaldi and Capello. Milan seeks to destroy my friendship with the King of France. Naples conspires with Spain to pull me down.

  MACCHIAVELLI: That is the price of achievement. It begets envy. The man who has no enemies, magnificent, has nothing.

  VALENTINOIS: Then am I rich, indeed! Here, I think, comes Scipione with our reluctant patrician.

  [The main doors open to admit GIANLUCA, ushered in by SCIPIONE; GIANLUCA’S air is one of extreme uneasiness.

  MACCHIAVELLI: I take my leave, magnificent...

  VALENTINOIS: No, no. Let me trespass a moment on your patience. We have yet to settle the terms of the treaty. This matter asks no secrecy.

  SCIPIONE: Here, highness, is Messer Gianluca della Pieve.

  VALENTINOIS: Ah, yes.

  [He comes slowly down, his eyes glitteringly intent upon GIANLUCA’S face, heightening the latter’s uneasiness.

  VALENTINOIS: We have waited a week to give you welcome, sir. As we seemed in danger of having to forgo the honour, we were constrained to send for you.

  [GIANLUCA bows, his uneasiness growing to fear. He does not answer.

  VALENTINOIS: Although you are one of Assisi’s first citizens, you were not present when the patricians took the oath on Sunday last. We shall be reassured by the reason for your absence.

  GIANLUCA: I...I...I...was not in Assisi at the time, magnificent.

  [VALENTINOIS observes him narrowly, noticing his hesitation.

&n
bsp; VALENTINOIS: You were not in Assisi, eh?

  GIANLUCA: No-o.

  [A pause.

  VALENTINOIS: Well, sir? Have you nothing to add? When did you return?

  GIANLUCA: On...on the day after.

  VALENTINOIS: Yet you made no effort to repair the omission.

  GIANLUCA: I...I judged the opportunity had passed.

  VALENTINOIS: I see. Tell me, Ser Gianluca, when did you leave Assisi?

  GIANLUCA (hesitating): On the day of your potency’s arrival.

  VALENTINOIS: And what was the urgent business that took you from home at such a moment?

  [GIANLUCA’S uneasiness is visibly increased. VALENTINOIS observes it. His tone, silken hitherto, becomes suddenly of steel.

  VALENTINOIS: Dare you tell us that?

  [GIANLUCA starts.

  VALENTINOIS: Dare you tell us where you went?

  [GIANLUCA trembles at that tone of implied knowledge and menace.

  VALENTINOIS: You hesitate, eh? Faith, well you may. It begins to occur to you at last that they do not lie who say we have as many eyes as Argus, and that the men in whom I am interested cannot move far without my knowledge. Shall I tell you what you dare not tell me? Shall I tell you where you went, Messer Gianluca?

  GIANLUCA (deceived and terrified): Your highness knows...!

  VALENTINOIS: Of course I know. What are my spies employed for?

  GIANLUCA (in a tone of explanation and apology): But, then...you must also know that Count Guido was my father’s friend. We owed him many favours.

  [VALENTINOIS’ surprise at the information thus trapped, shows a moment on his face, which is averted from GIANLUCA. There is a sharp movement from SCIPIONE, instantly restrained by MACCHIAVELLI.

  VALENTINOIS: I am not quarrelling with your ill-timed visit to Count Guido, nor yet with your friendship for him. My quarrel is with the motives that led you to seek him — motives which may cost you dear, Messer Gianluca.

  GIANLUCA (in increasing terror): My lord, I...I...took no willing part in any of the measures concerted at Solignola.

  [Again there is a flash of understanding on VALENTINOIS’ face.

  VALENTINOIS: You took no willing part, did you not? Do you expect me to believe you?

  GIANLUCA: It is the truth, magnificent! I...I swear it before the Throne of Heaven.

  VALENTINOIS: I require proofs, man; not oaths.

  GIANLUCA (abjectly): I...I have no means of proving what I say.

  VALENTINOIS: Indeed, you have, sir; and you’ll afford it me if you would save your neck.

  There is one proof you are overlooking. It is yours to use frankness with me now. Thus you may convince me of your honesty: that you were caught unawares in that net of treason. But you are careful to tell me nothing. (He adds on a sudden inspiration.) You do not even mention...the lady who was lately with me.

  [GIANLUCA recoils in fresh terror.

  GIANLUCA: My lord...since you know so much, you will understand the rest.

  VALENTINOIS: To be sure, I do. But my present concern is with you personally, Ser Gianluca — to test your honesty.

  GIANLUCA (plunging): Is it not natural, highness, that being determined upon resistance, Count Guido should have desired to place his daughter in safety — to remove her from the dangers and discomforts of a place besieged? In my having given her the shelter of my home is there anything that reflects upon my loyalty to your highness?

  VALENTINOIS: Is this your honesty? Is this how you prove that you are not my enemy?

  GIANLUCA: It is the truth, magnificent!

  VALENTINOIS: It is a lie, I say — a foolish lie.

  GIANLUCA (indignation blending with fear): Highness!

  VALENTINOIS: To pretend that Count Guido’s daughter, with all Italy open to her, should come here for shelter, here to Assisi, here into my very camp — a dove into the falconry — is to prove yourself a man of poor invention. Your wits are numbed by your desperate need to find a cloak for the true reason of her presence. (Harshly) You abuse my patience, sir. You forget that I have the rack and the hoist at my command.

  GIANLUCA: The rack and the hoist! (Indignantly) For me, highness! I am of patrician blood.

  VALENTINOIS: A fig for your patrician blood! Believe me, it sheds as easily as any other. They’re shedding some of it — better blood than yours — in the market-place at this moment. Orsini blood, my friend. Shall I hesitate at yours?

  GIANLUCA: Neither rack nor hoist could extract another word from me. I have no more to tell.

  VALENTINOIS: You have no more to tell me, eh? An ambiguous phrase, sir. But I think I read its real meaning. We shall test it later. Scipione, take Messer della Pieve, and place him under arrest until I make known my pleasure.

  SCIPIONE (to Gianluca): You hear, sir. Come.

  [GIANLUCA hesitates a moment, then with a shrug resigns himself, and goes out by the main doors with SCIPIONE. As the doors close, VALENTINOIS looks at MACCHIAVELLI, and laughs between amusement and bitterness.

  VALENTINOIS: Well? Do I start at shadows, or is there a substance behind them? That young man has told us something we were very far from suspecting. Panthasilea degli Speranzoni is here in Assisi calling herself Bianca Bracci of Spoleto. She thrusts herself upon my notice on a trumped-up matter, as I suspect. Her real object is to enlist my attention and ensnare my senses. Can you read that riddle?

  MACCHIAVELLI: It is extremely simple. She is the bait in the trap that’s set for your highness.

  VALENTINOIS: That, sir, is what I’ve been telling you. The riddle is the nature of the trap itself. Can you resolve it.

  MACCHIAVELLI: Can your highness

  VALENTINOIS: Not yet, elusive Socrates. But I shall; and then...

  MACCHIAVELLI: Heaven help Panthasilea degli Speranzoni.

  VALENTINOIS: Ay! I think she’ll need the help of Heaven. (Abruptly thrusting the matter aside.) And now, my friend, touching the terms of this treaty with your Florentine masters...

  [He flings himself into the chair at the table, MACCHIAVELLI standing beside it.

  THE CURTAIN IS LOWERED

  SCENE II

  The evening of the same day.

  Having been lowered for a moment to mark the lapse of time, the curtain rises again upon the same scene. The table has been drawn down a little farther to the left and is set lengthwise up and down stage. The armchair is on the left of it; there are writing materials on this table, and a candlestick with a lighted candle on a tray. The latter and a couple of lanterns suspended from the ceiling supply the light of the chamber, which is subdued, leaving the gallery at the back in gloom. The door in the left flat stands open, and a glowing light occasionally increases and reddens to the accompaniment of the audible sighing of bellows. Shadows of men (off in this room on the left, which is being used as a torture chamber) flit across the light proceeding thence at the opening of the scene.

  AT RISE OF CURTAIN, AGABITO GHERARDI is pacing up and down waiting. The door at the end of the gallery (off left) opens. This is conveyed by a beam of light along the gallery and a whiff of languid dance-music played in a distant part of the palace. The light is instantly cut off as the door is closed again. CORELLA has entered the gallery. He advances into view, and speaks as he comes down.

  CORELLA: Is everything ready, Messer Agabito?

  AGABITO (surly): Ready? (He waves a hand towards the torture chamber.) I’ve been waiting this half-hour.

  CORELLA: His highness is reluctant to leave the dance; as I am, and with less cause. But he’ll be here directly. Where’s the prisoner?

  AGABITO: Messer Gianluca has been roused, and awaits the duke’s pleasure in his cell.

  CORELLA: And meanwhile the duke’s pleasure lies elsewhere; and who shall blame him? I grudge these moments stolen from the revels, and God knows I’m no dancing pimp. Why the devil couldn’t this business have waited until morning?

  AGABITO: It’s the duke’s way: always the unexpected. No one ever knows what’s really in his mind. Not even
I, his secretary, who know more than most men.

  CORELLA: Hum! I could hazard a guess of what’s in his mind to-night. Have you ever heard of Love, Messer Agabito?

  AGABITO (disgusted): Love! Pshaw! Don’t be a fool, Micheletto.

  CORELLA: Oh, to be sure, you’re half a priest; and so you think that whilst God created man, the devil invented woman. According to some of you the devil invented everything that’s pleasant. Well, thanks to him we are very merry up there to-night.