CHAPTER XVIII. TREACHERY
"Sir," gulped Gonzaga, as they were descending from the battlements,"you will end by having us all hanged. Was that a way to address aprince?"
Valentina frowned that he should dare rebuke her knight. But Francescoonly laughed.
"By St. Paul! How would you have had me address him?" he inquired."Would you have had me use cajolery with him--the lout? Would youhave had me plead mercy from him, and beg him, in honeyed words, to bepatient with a wilful lady? Let be, Messer Gonzaga, we shall weather ityet, never doubt it."
"Messer Gonzaga's courage seems of a quality that wanes as the need forit increases," said Valentina.
"You are confounding courage, Madonna, with foolhardy recklessness," thecourtier returned. "You may learn it to your undoing."
That Gonzaga was not the only one entertaining this opinion they weresoon to learn, for, as they reached the courtyard a burly, black-browedruffian, Cappoccio by name, thrust himself in their path.
"A word with you, Messer Gonzaga, and you, Ser Ercole." His attitudewas full of truculent insolence, and all paused, Francesco and Valentinaturning from him to the two men whom he addressed, and waiting to hearwhat he might have to say to them. "When I accepted service under you,I was given to understand that I was entering a business that shouldentail little risk to my skin. I was told that probably there would beno fighting, and that if there were, it would be no more than a brushwith the Duke's men. So, too, did you assure my comrades."
"Did you indeed?" quoth Valentina, intervening, and addressing herselfto Fortemani, to whom Cappoccio's words had been directed.
"I did, Madonna," answered Ercole. "But I had Messer Gonzaga's word forit."
"Did you," she continued, turning to Gonzaga, "permit their engagementon that understanding?"
"On some such understanding, yes, Madonna," he was forced to confess.
She looked at him a moment in amazement. Then:
"Msser Gonzaga," she said at length, "I think that I begin to know you."
But Cappoccio, who was nowise interested in the extent of Valentina'sknowledge of the man, broke in impetuously:
"Now we have heard what has passed between this new Provost here and hisHighness of Babbiano. We have heard the terms that were offered, andhis rejection of them, and I am come to tell you, Ser Ercole, and you,Messer Gonzaga, that I for one will not remain here to be hanged whenRoccaleone shall fall into the hands of Gian Maria. And there are othersof my comrades who are of the same mind."
Valentina looked at the rugged, determined features of the man, andfear for the first time stole into her heart and was reflected on hercountenance. She was half-turning to Gonzaga, to vent upon him some ofthe bitterness of her humour--for him she accounted to blame--when onceagain Francesco came to the rescue.
"Now, shame on you, Cappoccio, for a paltry hind! Are these words forthe ears of a besieged and sorely harassed lady, craven?"
"I am no craven," the man answered hoarsely, his face flushing under thewhip of Francesco's scorn. "Out in the open I will take my chances, andfight in any cause that pays me. But this is not my trade--this waitingfor the death of a trapped rat."
Francesco met his eyes steadily for a moment, then glanced at the othermen, to the number of a half-score or so--all, in fact, whom the dutieshe had apportioned them did not hold elsewhere. They hung in the rearof Cappoccio, all ears for what was being said, and their countenancesplainly showing how their feelings were in sympathy with theirspokesman.
"And you a soldier, Cappoccio?" sneered Francesco. "Shall I tell youin what Fortemani was wrong when he enlisted you? He was wrong in nothiring you for scullion duty in the castle kitchen."
"Sir Knight!"
"Bah! Do you raise your voice to me? Do you think I am of your kind,animal, to be affrighted by sounds--however hideous?"
"I am not affrighted by sounds."
"Are you not? Why, then, all this ado about a bunch of empty threatscast at us by the Duke of Babbiano? If you were indeed the soldier youwould have us think you, would you come here and say, 'I will not diethis way, or that'? Confess yourself a boaster when you tell us that youare ready to die in the open."
"Nay! That am I not."
"Then, if you are ready to die out there, why not in here? Shallit signify aught to him that dies where he gets his dying done? Butreassure yourself, you woman," he added, with a laugh, and in avoice loud enough to be heard by the others, "you are not going todie--neither here, nor there."
"When Roccaleone capitulates----"
"It will not capitulate," thundered Francesco.
"Well, then--when it is taken."
"Nor will it be taken," the Provost insisted, with an assurance thatcarried conviction. "If Gian Maria had time unlimited at his command,he might starve us into submission. But he has not. An enemy is menacinghis own frontiers, and in a few days--a week, at most--he will be forcedto get him hence to defend his crown."
"The greater reason for him to use stern measures and bombard us as hethreatens," answered Cappoccio shrewdly but rather in the tone of a manwho expects to have his argument disproved. And Francesco, if he couldnot disprove it, could at least contradict it.
"Believe it not," he cried, with a scornful laugh. "I tell you that GianMaria will never dare so much. And if he did, are these walls that willcrumble at a few cannon-shots? Assault he might attempt; but I need nottell a soldier that twenty men who are stout and resolute, as I willbelieve you are for all your craven words, could hold so strong a placeas this against the assault of twenty times the men the Duke has withhim. And for the rest, if you think I tell you more than I believemyself, I ask you to remember how I am included in Gian Maria's threat.I am but a soldier like you, and such risks as are yours are mine aswell. Do you see any sign of faltering in me, any sign of doubting theissue, or any fear of a rope that shall touch me no more than it shalltouch you? There, Cappoccio! A less merciful provost would have hangedyou for your words--for they reek of sedition. Yet I have stood andargued with you, because I cannot spare a brave man such as youwill prove yourself. Let us hear no more of your doubtings. They areunworthy. Be brave and resolute, and you shall find yourself wellrewarded when the baffled Duke shall be forced to raise this siege."
He turned without waiting for the reply of Cappoccio--who stoodcrestfallen, his cheeks reddened by shame of his threat to get himhence--and conducted Valentina calmly across the yard and up the stepsof the hall.
It was his way never to show a doubt that his orders would be obeyed,yet on this occasion scarce had the door of the hall closed after themwhen he turned sharply to the following Ercole.
"Get you an arquebuse," he said quickly, "and take my man Lanciotto,with you. Should those dogs still prove mutinous, fire into any thatattempt the gates--fire to kill--and send me word. But above all,Ercole, do not let them see you or suspect your presence; that were toundermine such effect as my words may have produced."
From out of a woefully pale face Valentina raised her brown eyes to his,in a look that was as a stab to the observing Gonzaga.
"I needed a man here," she said, "and I think that Heaven it must havebeen that sent you to my aid. But do you think," she asked, and with hereyes she closely scanned his face for any sign of doubt, "that they arepacified?"
"I am assured of it, Madonna. Come, there are signs of tears in youreyes, and--by my soul!--there is naught to weep at."
"I am but a woman, after all," she smiled up at him, "and so, subject toa woman's weakness. It seemed as if the end were indeed come just now.It had come, but for you. If they should mutiny----"
"They shall not, while I am here," he answered, with a cheeringconfidence. And she, full of faith in this true knight of hers, went toseek her ladies, and to soothe in her turn any alarm to which they mighthave fallen a prey.
Francesco went to disarm, and Gonzaga to take the air upon the ramparts,his heart a very bag of gall. His hatred for the interloper was asnothing now to his rage against Valentina, a rage
that had its birthin a wondering uncomprehension of how she should prefer that coarse,swashbuckling bully to himself, the peerless Gonzaga. And as he walkedthere, under the noontide sky, the memory of Francesco's assurance thatthe men would not mutiny returned to him, and he caught himself mostardently desiring that they might, if only to bear it home to Valentinahow misplaced was her trust, how foolish her belief in that loudboaster. He thought next--and with increasing bitterness--of his ownbrave schemes, of his love for Valentina, and of how assured he hadbeen that his affections were returned, before this ruffler cameamongst them. He laughed in bitter scorn as the thought returned to herpreferring Francesco to himself. Well, it might be so now--now that thetimes were warlike, and this Francesco was such a man as shone at hisbest in them. But what manner of companion would this sbirro make intimes of peace? Had he the wit, the grace, the beauty even that wasGonzaga's? Circumstance, it seemed to him, was here to blame, and heroundly cursed that same Circumstance. In other surroundings, he wasassured that she would not have cast an eye upon Francesco whilst he,himself, was by; and if he recalled their first meeting at Acquasparta,it was again to curse Circumstance for having placed the knight in suchcase as to appeal to the tenderness that is a part of woman's nature.
He reflected--assured that he was right--that if Francesco had not cometo Roccaleone, he might by now have been wed to Valentina; and once wed,he could throw down the bridge and march out of Roccaleone, assured thatGian Maria would not care to espouse his widow, and no less assured thatGuidobaldo--who was at heart a kind and clement prince--would be contentto let be what was accomplished, since there would be naught gainedbeyond his niece's widowhood in hanging Gonzaga. It was the speciousargument that had lured him upon this rash enterprise, the hopes thathe was confident would have fructified but for the interloping ofFrancesco.
He stood looking down at the tented plain, with black rage and blackdespair blotting the beauty from the sunlight of that May morning, andthen it came to him that since there was naught to be hoped from hisold plans, might it not be wise to turn his attention to new ones thatwould, at least, save him from hanging? For he was assured that whatevermight betide the others, his own fate was sealed, whether Roccaleonefell or not. It would be remembered against him that the affair was ofhis instigating, and from neither Gian Maria nor Guidobaldo might helook for mercy.
And now the thought of extricating himself from his desperate perilturned him cold by its suddenness. He stood very still a moment; thenlooked about him as though he feared that some watching spy might readon him the ugly intention that of a sudden had leapt to life in hisheart. Swiftly it spread, and took more definite shape, the reflectionof it showing now upon his smooth, handsome face, and disfiguring itbeyond belief. He drew away from the wall, and took a turn or two uponthe ramparts, one hand behind him, the other raised to support hisdrooping chin. Thus he brooded for a little while. Then, with another ofhis furtive glances, he turned to the north-western tower, and enteredthe armoury. There he rummaged until he had found the pen, ink and paperthat he sought, and with the door wide open--the better that he mighthear the sound of approaching steps--he set himself feverishly to write.It was soon done, and he stood up, waving the sheet to dry the ink. Thenhe looked it over again, and this is what he had written:
"I have it in my power to stir the garrison to mutiny and to throw openthe gates of Roccaleone. Thus shall the castle fall immediately intoyour hands, and you shall have a proof of how little I am in sympathywith this rebellion of Monna Valentina's. What terms do you offer meif I accomplish this? Answer me now, and by the same means as I amemploying, but dispatch not your answer if I show myself upon theramparts.
"ROMEO GONZAGA."
He folded the paper, and on the back he wrote the superscription--"Tothe High and Mighty Duke of Babbiano." Then opening a large chest thatstood against the wall, he rummaged a moment, and at last withdrew anarbalest quarrel. About the body of this he tied his note. Next, fromthe wall he took down a cross-bow, and from a corner a moulinet forwinding it. With his foot in the stirrup he made the cord taut and setthe shaft in position.
And now he closed the door, and, going to the window, which was littlemore than an arrow-slit, he shouldered his arbalest. He took careful aimin the direction of the ducal tent, and loosed the quarrel. He watchedits light, and it almost thrilled him with pride in his archery to seeit strike the tent at which he had aimed, and set the canvas shuddering.
In a moment there was a commotion. Men ran to the spot, others emergedfrom the tent, and amongst the latter Gonzaga recognised the figures ofGian Maria and Guidobaldo.
The bolt was delivered to the Duke of Babbiano, who, with an upwardglance at the ramparts, vanished into the tent once more.
Gonzaga moved from his eerie, and set wide the door of the tower,so that his eyes could range the whole of the sun-bathed ramparts.Returning to his window, he waited impatiently for the answer. Nor washis impatience to endure long. At the end of some ten minutes GianMaria reappeared, and, summoning an archer to his side, he deliveredhim something and made a motion of his hand towards Roccaleone. Gonzagamoved to the door, and stood listening breathlessly. At the least signof an approach, he would have shown himself, and thus, by the provisionmade in his letter have cautioned the archer against shooting his bolt.But all was quiet, and so Gonzaga remained where he was until somethingflashed like a bird across his vision, struck sharply against theposterior wall, and fell with a tinkle on the broad stones of therampart. A moment later the answer from Gian Maria was in his hands.
He swiftly unwound it from the shaft that had brought it, and droppedthe bolt into a corner. Then unfolding the letter, he read it, leaningagainst one of the merlons of the wall.
"If you can devise a means to deliver Roccaleone at once into myhands you shall earn my gratitude, full pardon for your share in MonnaValentina's rebellion, and the sum of a thousand gold florins.
"GIAN MARIA."
As he read, a light of joy leapt to his eyes. Gian Maria's terms werevery generous. He would accept them, and Valentina should realise whentoo late upon what manner of broken reed she leaned in relying uponMesser Francesco. Would he save her now, as he so loudly boasted? Wouldthere indeed be no mutiny, as he so confidently prophesied? Gonzagachuckled evilly to himself. She should learn her lesson, and when shewas Gian Maria's wife, she might perhaps repent her of her treatment ofRomeo Gonzaga.
He laughed softly to himself. Then suddenly he turned cold, and he felthis skin roughening. A stealthy step sounded behind him.
He crumpled the Duke's letter in his hand, and in the alarm of themoment, he dropped it over the wall. Seeking vainly to compose thefeatures that a chilling fear had now disturbed, he turned to see whocame.
Behind him stood Peppe, his solemn eyes bent with uncanny intentnessupon Gonzaga's face.
"You were seeking me?" quoth Romeo, and the quaver in his voice sortedill with his arrogance.
The fool made him a grotesque bow.
"Monna Valentina desires that you attend her in the garden,Illustrious."
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