CHAPTER VI.
BERNABO CECI.
I cannot say for what time I lay thus bereft of sense; but on comingto myself I saw the candle in my room was all but spent, and the wickflaring in a long flame. I looked to see if my wound had broken outa-bleeding afresh, and was glad to find this was not the case, andthat the bandages were in their position. The small effort, however,nearly set me off once more. The room swam round, the bright flame ofthe candle dwindled down to a little star, no bigger than a pin point,and then began slowly to increase in size as the faintness passed off,and I was able to see clearly again. Any attempt to move gave meagony, and, closing my eyes, I lay still. I heard the candle expirewith a splutter, and leave me in darkness. Then I began to getlight-headed, and unable to control my thoughts. Somehow my mindtravelled back to the days of my childhood, and the figure of the onlyliving relative I can remember, my father, came before me, standingjust as he was wont to stand, when about to give me a lesson in theexercise of the sword, and repeating a warning he never ceased to dininto my ears. "Learning," he said, "is of little use to a gentleman.You need not know more of books than a Savelli should, but inhorsemanship, and in the use of the sword----" he finished with agesture more expressive than words. And truly old Ercole di Savelliwas never a bookworm, although he ended a stormy life in his bed.
He was the son of that Baptista di Savelli, who was ruined with thePrefetti di Vico, and other noble houses during the time of Eugene IV.Such estates as Baptista had, were transferred with the person of hissister Olympia, who married into the Chigi, to that family, and withthem the custodianship of the Conclaves. Baptista di Savelli left hisson nothing but a few acres. The latter tried to woo Fortune in theSpanish war, but did not obtain her favours. He returned to Italy, andpoor as Job though he was, hesitated not to marry for love, and engagein a lawsuit with Amilcar Chigi. What between the one and the other,Ercole was ruined in a hand turn. His wife died in giving birth to me,and disgusted with the world, he retired to a small estate near Colzain the Bergamasque. There he devoted himself to a pastoral life, andto bringing me up as a soldier, until, one fine day, having contracteda fever, he received absolution and died like a gentleman and aChristian.
I followed the profession for which I was intended, joining the levyof the Duke of Urbino, and sharing in all the ups and downs of thetimes, until Fortune did me a good turn at Fornovo. Subsequentlythings went well with me, and although I had to mortgage my narrowlands, to raise and provide equipment for the men, with whom I joinedTremouille, I was in expectation of a full reward, when I was sosuddenly stricken down.
Thinking of these things in the dark, tormented by a devouring thirst,which I was unable to quench, haunted by the impression that my lasthour was come, and that I should die here like a dog, without even thelast rites of the church, I fell into a frenzy, and began to shoutaloud, and rave as in a delirium. D'Entrangues came before me, wearinga smile of triumph, and I strove impotently to reach. Then the wholeroom seemed to be full of my enemy, from every corner I could see thewhite face, the red hair, and the smile of successful malice. Thefigures, each one exactly like the other, floated over me, stood by myside, sometimes brought their faces within an inch of mine, until Iimagined I felt a flame-like breath beating on me. Finally theyflitted backwards and forwards, rapidly and more rapidly, until therewas nothing but a mass of moving shadow around me, which graduallyresolved itself again into a single form. I strove to reach for mysword to strike at it, but my arms were paralysed. So through thelivelong night the phantom stood at the foot of my bed, until thewhite morning came in at my window, and I fell into a sleep.
When I awoke, I found the old intendant of the building bending overme. The fever had abated but the thirst still remained. "Water," Igasped through my parched lips, and he gave me to drink.
To cut a long story short, I arranged with this man for suchattendance as I should want, and to do him justice Ceci--for that washis name--performed his part of the contract, getting me my food,attending to the dressing of my wound, to which he applied a mostsoothing salve, and such other offices a helpless person must expect.He did not trouble me much with his presence during the earlier partof my illness, but came as occasion required him, and, when he hadperformed his work, left me to my reflections.
I may note here that I never again saw the people who helped me when Iwas wounded. Having assisted me to my lodging, and aided me to dressmy hurt, as I have said, they departed, and apparently gave me nofurther thought. This I am persuaded was not due to unkindly feeling,but to prudence, and a wish to avoid being mixed up in an affair suchas mine appeared to be; for the times were such, that it was betterfor a man's head to be unknown to the Magnifici Signori of Florence.
Subsequently, when things changed with me, I caused public cry to bemade, requesting the worthy citizens to come forward; but my attemptwas of no avail, beyond producing a half-dozen or so of rascalimpostors, who swore to helping me, under circumstances that neveroccurred, on the off chance of hitting a nail on the head, andobtaining a reward. But this was long after my illness, and the blockin the Bargello may have, since that time, been a resting place forthe heads of the good Samaritans for all I can say. I took a longertime in mending than I thought I should, for an inflammation set in,the fever came back, and when that was passed I recovered strength butslowly. It was at this time, however, that I discovered the advantageof reading, having up to now borne only too well in mind my father'ssaying on that subject.
I began with Poliziano's Orfeo, a poor affair, and then procured, tomy delight, a translation of Plutarch's Lives. Both these books wereobtained with the greatest difficulty, so old Ceci, the attendantsaid, from the library of a great Florentine noble, in which a nephewof his was employed in copying manuscripts, and the old man charged mean entire double florin for the use of the latter alone; anexpenditure I grudged at first; but which I would have willingly paidtwice over before I finished the volume. I inquired the name of thenobleman; but Ceci was not inclined to tell me, and I gathered thatthe owner was probably unaware that his books were taking an airing,and enabling his library-scribe to turn a dishonest penny. On thebinding of the Plutarch was pricked a coat-of-arms, a cross azure on afield argent, with four nails azure; but I could not, for the life ofme, remember this device, although I had served in every part of Italyexcept Rome. Finally it came to my mind, that the bearings, no doubt,belonged to some merchant prince of Florence, and would therefore beunlikely to see anything more of fighting than a street riot, andtherefore I dismissed the subject.
I did not neglect, whilst lying in enforced idleness, to take suchsteps as I could to discover the whereabouts of D'Entrangues, andspecially instructed old Ceci to make inquiries of the followers of LaPalisse. He brought me news in a couple of days, that the Frenchmanhad left Florence a fortnight ago, and it was understood he was goingto join the army of Cesare Borgia, that cursed serpent who was liftinghis head so high in the Romagna. This was ill news indeed, for I hadbeen lying helpless for close upon a month; but I was on the mend atlast, and resolved to follow him as soon as I had strength to travel.
During my illness I had frequently thought of madame, and with thethoughts of her, there mingled recollections of the dark eyes of thelady who had looked at me through her mask, on the night I wasstabbed. I could think of madame in no way but with a kindly feeling;but strange as it may seem, any recollection of the other made myheart beat, and I would have given much even to have obtained anotherglance at her. In the meantime, however, my first business was to tryand replenish my funds, for my supplies were almost exhausted by thedrain made upon them during my illness.
Old Ceci, the intendant, had in his way formed a sort of attachmentfor me, and now that I was better, generally spent an hour or so withme daily in converse. One day I let out some hint of my condition, andCeci, after a little beating about the bush, approached me with aproposal.
"Signore," he said, "there are those in Flo
rence who would like thingschanged. We want our Medici back; but we want also a few good swords,and I could tell you of a way to fill your purse."
"Say on," I replied, and the old man having first bound me to secrecy,informed me that certain notables in Florence wanted a good sword ortwo, to rid them of a great political opponent, in order to pave theway for the return of the Medici; and without mentioning names in anyway, which, he said, would be given to me later, proposed that Ishould undertake the task.
I realised at once that his suggestion meant nothing short ofassassination, and saw that my old acquaintance was apparently up tothe ears in a political plot. My first idea was to spurn thesuggestion with indignation; but reflecting that it would be better toknow more, and by this means, if possible, save a man from beingmurdered in cold blood; I affected to treat the matter seriously, andreplied that I was as yet unfit for active work; but that as soon as Iwas better I would discuss the subject again. He then departed.
Perhaps the time will come when the minds of men will shrink withhorror from crime, even for the sake of a good object, and howevermuch I loathed the proposal made to me, I could not but recollect thatthe noblest names of Milan were concerned in the Olgiati conspiracy,and that a Pontiff had supported the Pazzi attempt on the Medici. Thisbeing so, there was excuse for Ceci and his leaders, whoever theywere; but my whole soul was wrath in me at the thought that I had beendeemed capable of doing the business of a common bravo, and if it werenot for the reason stated above, I would have flung the oldconspirator out of the room. This insult also had to go downindirectly to D'Entrangues, and as I grew better, my desire to settlewith him rose to fever-heat. The question, however, was my resources.Turn which way I would, there seemed to be no way of replenishingthem. The idea presented itself to me to join the Borgia, who with allhis faults was ever ready to take a long sword into his pay. But theman was so great a monster of iniquity, that, even to gratify myvengeance, I could not bring myself to accept the gold of St.Valentino.
There were others to whom I could apply, such as Malatesta or De laRovere; but amongst them I would be known, and the burden of my shametoo great to bear. After all, it would perhaps be better to seek tofill my purse in Florence, and let my vengeance sleep for a while. Itwould be all the sweeter when it came.
With these ideas in my head, I was sitting one afternoon at the littlewindow of my room, putting a finishing touch to the edge of thedagger, which D'Entrangues had left with, or rather in me, andcongratulating myself that the blade was not a poisoned one, when Iheard, as from a distance a hum of voices, which gradually swelledinto a great roar, and above this the clanging of a bell with apeculiar discordant note. Almost at the same time old Ceci bustledinto my room, evidently in a state of high excitement, and calledout--
"Messer Donati--Messer Donati! It is to be war--war!"
I should add here that I had judged it prudent to take another name onentering Florence, and adopted the first one that struck me, althoughI afterwards thought that Donati was not quite the name to win favourwith the Florentines, amongst whom the memory of Messer Corso wasstill green, although so many years had passed since he was done with.Whether I let my own name out or not during my illness I am unable tosay; at any rate, Ceci never gave me any such hint. The news the oldman brought was not unexpected by me, yet I caught a touch of hisexcitement and answered--
"War--where? Tell me."
"It is this way, signore; Naples has risen, and the Great Captain hasdriven D'Aubigny out of Calabria, all the Romagna has gone from Cesareas that," he waved his hand as if throwing a feather in the air.
"The Holy Father has cast his interdict on Florence, and Pisa isburning the Val di Nievole."
"The devil!" I exclaimed, "this is more than I thought. The interdictis bad, Messer Ceci."
He grinned as he answered, "Bad for the Pope. Medici or no Medici wewill not have a priest interfering in Florence."
"I see," I said, "you are Florentine first, and conspiratorafterwards; but how do the French stand?"
"With us, for we pay. It is said, however, that things are uncertainwith them, that Monsignore d'Amboise, who is now Cardinal of Rouen,has gone to Rome, and that Tremouille is awaiting the king."
"The king! Louis is at Macon."
"Yes, Louis himself, and the Lord knows how many barons besides, withpedigrees as long as their swords, who will eat up our corn, andpillage our vineyards from the Alps to the Adriatic. But I came hereto ask, signore, if you will come with me to see. It is hurry and makehaste for I cannot wait. The Carroccio has left St. John's."
I had almost recovered my full strength, and was accustomed to walkout daily at dusk in order to avoid observation, whilst at the sametime I could by doing so exercise my muscles; yet at first I feltinclined to decline Ceci's invitation, alleging weakness as my excuse,for my anger was still warm against him on account of his proposals tome. Reflecting, however, that if I offended him, it would probablyfatally injure any prospect I had of saving the person whom theconspirators intended to kill, I thought it best to affect afriendliness I did not feel, and changing my mind in regard toaccompanying him, slipped on my sword, and followed the old mandownstairs. We hastened as fast as we could to the great square. Thepeople were swarming out of the houses, and the streets were full of ahurrying throng, all directing their steps to the point, whence wecould hear the bellowing of the mob, echoed with answering cheers bythose making towards the place of assembly. Around us there was amurmur like that of millions of bees, as men, women, and children,jostled their way to the Palace of the Signory. My companion, whostopped every now and again to open his jaws as wide as the mouth of asaddle-bag, and give forth a yell, hustled along at a great pace, andI made after him with scarcely less speed.
By good fortune, and a considerable amount of pushing, we made our waythrough the press, which appeared to me to be composed entirely ofelbows, and at last reached the market-place. Here the crowd behind usslowly drove us forwards, and finally gave us the advantage of a goodposition. The square was lined with men-at-arms and stout citizens,with boar-spears in their hands.
All at once there went up a shout louder than ever, the crowd swayedbackwards and forwards, then opened out, and admitted the Carroccio orwar-car in Florence. It was painted red, and drawn by oxen housed inred trappings. The great beasts had dragged the car slowly from thechapel of St. John's, where it stood in times of peace, and labouredalong under its weight. From the car itself projected two poles onwhich hung the banner of the Commonwealth, a red giglio on a whitefield. Immediately behind this came another car, bearing theMartinello or war-bell, which was incessantly clanging out its angrynotes. It was to ring now for a full month, without ceasing.
Around the cars were the principal nobles of the city, and the oxenbeing guided to the "bankrupt stone," were there unharnessed. PietroSoderini, the brother of his eminence of Volterra, who was thenGonfaloniere for life, raised his hand. In a moment there was silence,and the vast audience listened to the brief oration that fell from thelips of their chief magistrate. He painted in stirring words thedangers of the times; he called to the people to forget party hatredsin the face of the common crisis; he appealed to their past, and thenconcluded: "Therefore," said he, "for the safety of the State, have weto whom that safety is entrusted put our hope in God, and our hands tothe sword. Citizens, we give to our enemies, to Rome, and to Spain,war, red war--and God defend the right!" With that, he drew off hisglove of mail and flung it on the pavement, where it fell with asudden crash.
The silence of the crowd continued for a little, and then, from fortythousand throats rang out cheer after cheer, as the sturdy citizensroared out their approval of the gage thrown down.
In the midst of all this some partisan of the Medici, hystericallyexcited, raised a shout of _Palle_! _Palle!_
"Blood of St. John!" exclaimed Ceci, "who is that fool? He will die."
It was the well-known cry of the exiled Medici, and it drove the crowdto madness. Instantly there was an answerin
g yell.
"_Popolo_! _Popolo!_ Death to tyrants!" I cannot tell what happenedexactly; but in the distance, I saw a man being tossed and torn by themob. For a moment, his white face rose above the sea of heads, withall the despair in it that the face of a drowning man has, when itrises for the last time above the waves; then it sank back, andsomething mangled and shapeless was flung out into the piazza, whereit lay very still. I stood awestruck by this vengeance.
"Yet the Medici _will_ come back, signore!"
Ceci whispered this in my ear, as he stood with his hand on myshoulder.
The Honour of Savelli: A Romance Page 7
