CHAPTER XXI. THE PENITENT
A week passed peacefully at Roccaleone; so peacefully that it wasdifficult to conceive that out there in the plain sat Gian Maria withhis five-score men besieging them.
This inaction fretted the Count of Aquila, as did the lack of news fromFanfulla; and he wondered vaguely what might be taking place at Babbianothat Gian Maria should be content to sit idly before them, as though hehad months at his disposal in which to starve them into yielding. Themystery would have been dispelled had he known that he had Gonzaga tothank for this singular patience of Gian Maria's. For the courtier hadfound occasion to send another letter-carrying shaft into the Duke'scamp, informing him of how and why the last plot had failed, and urgingGian Maria to wait and trust in him to devise a better scheme fordelivering the castle into his power. He had promised boldly andconfidently enough, and Gian Maria--facts showed--had trusted to thatpromise of his, and awaited its fulfilment. But tax his mind though hedid incessantly, no inspiration came to him, no scheme suggested itselfby which he might accomplish his treacherous purpose.
He employed the time cunningly to win back Valentina's favour andconfidence. On the morning after his stormy interview with Guidobaldo'sniece, he had confessed himself to Fra Domenico, and approached theSacrament. Every morning thereafter he appeared at Mass, and by thepiety and fervour of his devotions became an example to all the others.Now this was not lost on Valentina, who was convent-bred, and in ameasure devout. She read in this singular alteration of his ways theundoubtable indication of an altered character. That he had approachedthe Sacrament on the morning after his wild words to her, she tookto mean that he repented him the viciousness of the animosity hehad entertained that he continued so extremely devout thereafter sheconstrued into meaning that his repentance was sincere and persistent.
And so she came to ask herself whether, indeed, he had not been as muchsinned against as sinning, and she ended by assuring herself that in ameasure the fault was hers. Seeing him so penitent, and concluding fromit that he was not likely to transgress again, she readmitted him to herfavour, and, little by little, the old friendly state was re-establishedand was the sounder, perhaps, by virtue of her confidence that afterwhat had passed he would not again misunderstand her.
He did not, nor did he again allow his optimism and ever-ready vanity tocozen him with false hopes. He read her with exact precision, and whilstthe reading but served to embitter him the more and render him moresteadfast in his vengeful purpose, it, nevertheless, made him smile themore sweetly and fawn the more obsequiously.
And not content with this, he did not limit his sycophancy to Valentina,but sought also by a smiling persistence to ingratiate himselfwith Francesco. No voice in Roccaleone--not even that of the bullyErcole--was raised more often or more enthusiastically to praise andglorify their Provost. Valentina, observing this, and accepting it asanother sign of his contrition for the past and purpose of amendmentfor the future, grew yet more cordial towards him. He was not lacking inastuteness, this pretty Ser Romeo, nor in knowledge of a woman's heart,and the apprehension of the fact that there is no flattery she prefersto that which has for object the man she loves.
Thus did Gonzaga conquer the confidence and esteem of all during thatpeaceful week. He seemed a changed man, and all save Peppe saw in thischange a matter for increased trust and friendship towards him. But theastute fool looked on and pondered. Such transformations as these werenot effected in a night. He was no believer in any human chrysalis thatshall make of the grub of yesterday the butterfly of to-day. And so, inthis fawning, smiling, subservient Gonzaga, he saw nothing but an objectof mistrust, a fellow to be watched with the utmost vigilance. To thisvigilance the hunchback applied himself with a zeal born of his cordialdetestation of the courtier. But Gonzaga, aware of the fool's mistrustand watchfulness, contrived for once to elude him, and to get a letterto Gian Maria setting forth the ingenious plan he had hatched.
The notion had come to him that Sunday at Mass. On all sanctified daysit was Monna Valentina's way to insist that the entire garrison, withthe exception of one single sentinel--and this only at Francesco's veryearnest urging--should attend the morning service. Like an inspirationit came to him that such a half-hour as that would be a most opportuneseason in which to throw open the gates of Roccaleone to the besiegers.The following Wednesday was the feast of Corpus Christi. Then would behis opportunity.
Kneeling there, with head bent in ecstatic devotion, he matured histreacherous plan. The single sentry he could suborn, or else--if briberyfailed--poniard. He realised that single-handed he might not lower thecumbrous drawbridge, nor would it be wise, even if possible, for thenoise of it might give the alarm. But there was the postern. Gian Mariamust construct him a light, portable bridge, and have it in readinessto span the moat and silently pour his soldiers into the castle throughthat little gate.
And so, the plot matured and every detail clear, he got him to hischamber and penned the letter that was to rejoice the heart of GianMaria. He chose a favourable moment to despatch it, as he had despatchedthe former ones, tied about the quarrel of an arbalest, and he saw GianMaria's signal--for which the letter had provided--that the plan wouldbe adopted. Humming a gay measure, jubilant at the prospect of seeinghimself so amply avenged, Gonzaga passed down and out into the castlegardens to join the ladies in their merry-making over a game of hoodmanblind.
Now, however much the Duke of Babbiano may have congratulated himselfupon the ally he possessed in Gonzaga, and the cunning scheme the latterhad devised for placing him in possession of Roccaleone, there camenews to him on the morrow that caused him to rejoice a hundredfold morefervently. His subjects of Babbiano were in a condition approaching openrebellion, resulting from the disquieting rumours that Caesar Borgia wasarming at Rome for a decent upon the Duchy, and the continued absence ofGian Maria in such a season, upon a wooing that they deemed ill-timed. Astrong party had been formed, and the leaders had nailed upon the Palacegates a proclamation that, unless Gian Maria returned within three daysto organise the defence of Babbiano, they would depose him and repair toAquila to invite his cousin, Francesco del Falco--whose patriotism andmilitary skill were known to all--to assume the crown of Babbiano andprotect them.
At the news, and upon reading the proclamation, which Alvari had broughtwith him, Gian Maria flew into one of those fits of rage that made hisname a byword in Babbiano. Presently, however, he cooled. Therewas Gonzaga yonder, who had promised to admit him to Roccaleone onWednesday. That left him time to first possess himself of his reluctantbride, and then ride hard to Babbiano, to arrive there before the expiryof the three days' grace his subjects gave him.
He conferred with Guidobaldo, and urged that a priest should be inwaiting to wed them so soon as he should have brought her out of thefortress. Upon that detail they were within an ace of quarrelling.Guidobaldo would not at first agree to such hasty nuptials; they wereunfitting the dignity and the station of his niece, and if Gian Mariawould wed her he must come to Urbino and let the ceremony be performedby a cardinal. Well was it then for Gian Maria that he mastered hiswonted hastiness and curbed the hot, defiant retort that rose to hislips. Had he done so, an enduring rupture between them would probablyhave ensued; for Guidobaldo was not one to permit himself to behectored, and, after all, he amply realised that Gian Maria had moreneed of him than he of Gian Maria. And this in that moment the Duke ofBabbiano realised too, and realising it he set himself to pleadwhere otherwise he might have demanded, to beg as a favour thatwhich otherwise he might have commanded with a threat. And so he wonGuidobaldo--although reluctant--to his wishes in the matter, and inhis good-nature the Duke of Urbino consented to pocket the dignity thatprompted him to see the ceremony performed with princely pomp.
This being settled, Gian Maria blessed Gonzaga who rendered it allpossible, and came most opportunely to his aid where without him heshould have been forced to resort to cannon and bloodshed.
With Gonzaga the only shadow of doubt that remaine
d to mar the perfectcertainty of his success lay in his appreciation of Francesco's daringcharacter and resourceful mind, and now as if the gods were eager tofavour him to the very last degree--a strange weapon to combat this wasunexpectedly thrust into his hand.
It happened that Alvari was not the only messenger who travelled thatday to Roccaleone. There followed him by some hours, the Count ofAquila's servant, Zaccaria, who rode hard and reached the approaches ofthe castle by sunset. His destination being the fortress itself, he wasforced to wait in the woods until night had fallen, and even then hismission was fraught with peril.
It befell that somewhere near the second hour of night, the moon beingovercast at the time--for there were threats of a storm in the sky--thesentinel on the eastern wall heard a sound of splashing in the moatbelow, accompanied by the stertorous breathing of a swimmer whose mouthis not well above water. He challenged the sound, but receiving no replyhe turned to go and give the alarm, and ran into the arms of Gonzaga,who had come up to take the air.
"Illustrious," he exclaimed, "there is someone swimming the moat."
"Eh?" cried Gonzaga, a hundred suspicions of Gian Maria running throughhis mind. "Treachery?"
"It is what I thought."
Gonzaga took the man by the sleeve of his doublet, and drew him back tothe parapet. They peered over, and from out of the blackness they werehailed by a faint "Ola!"
"Who goes there?" demanded Romeo.
"A friend," came the answer softly. "A messenger from Babbiano withletters for the Lord Count of Aquila. Throw me a rope, friends, before Idrown in this trough."
"You rave, fool!" answered him Gonzaga. "We have no counts atRoccaleone."
"Surely, sir sentinel," replied the voice, "my master, Messer Francescodel Falco, is here. Throw me a rope, I say."
"Messer Fran----" began Gonzaga. Then he made a noise like a manchoking. It was as if a sudden light of revelation had flooded hisbrain. "Get a rope," he harshly bade the sentry. "In the armoury yard.Despatch, fool!" he added sharply, now fearing interruption.
In a moment the man was back, and the rope was lowered to the visitorbelow. A few seconds later Zaccaria stood on the ramparts of Roccaleone,the water dripping from his sodden garments, and gathering in a poolabout his feet.
"This way," said Gonzaga, leading the man towards the armoury tower,where a lanthorn was burning. By the light of it he surveyed thenewcomer, and bade the sentry close the door and remain within call,without.
Zaccaria looked startled at the order. This was scarcely the receptionhe had expected after so imperilling his life to reach the castle withhis letter.
"Where is my lord?" he inquired, through teeth that chattered fromthe cold of his immersion, wondering vaguely who this very magnificentgentleman might be.
"Is Messer Francesco del Falco your lord?" asked Romeo.
"He is, sir. I have had the honour to serve him these ten years. I bringhim letters from Messer Fanfulla degli Arcipreti. They are very urgent.Will you lead me to him?"
"You are very wet," murmured Gonzaga solicitously. "You will take yourdeath from cold, and the death of a man so brave as to have found a waythrough Gian Maria's lines were truly deplorable." He stepped to thedoor. "Ola!" he called to the sentry. "Take this brave fellow up thereand find him a change of raiment." He pointed to the upper chamber ofthe tower, where, indeed, such things were stored.
"But my letters, sir!" cried Zaccaria impatiently. "They are veryurgent, and hours have I wasted already in waiting for the night."
"Surely you can wait until you have changed your garments? Your life, Itake it, is of more account than the loss of a few moments."
"But my orders from Messer degli Arcipreti were that I must not lose aninstant."
"Oh, si, si!" cried Gonzaga, with a show of good-tempered impatience."Give me the letters, then, and I will take them to the Count while youare stripping those wet clothes."
Zaccaria eyed him a moment in doubt. But he looked so harmless in hisfinery, and the expression of his comely face was so winning and honest,that the man's hesitancy faded as soon as it sprang up. Removing hiscap, he drew from within the crown the letter, which he had placed thereto keep dry. This package he now handed to Gonzaga, who, with a finalword of instruction to the sentry touching the finding of raiment forthe messenger, stepped out to go his errand. But outside the door hepaused, and called the sentry to him again.
"Here is a ducat for you," he whispered. "Do my bidding and you shallhave more. Detain him in the tower till I return, and on no account lethim be seen or heard by anyone."
"Yes, Excellency," the man replied. "But what if the captain comes andfinds me absent from my post?"
"I will provide for that. I will tell Messer Fortemani that I haveemployed you on a special matter, and ask him to replace you. You aredispensed sentry duty for to-night."
The man bowed, and quietly withdrew to attend to his prisoner, for inthat light he now regarded Zaccaria.
Gonzaga sought Fortemani in the guard-room below, and did as he hadpromised the sentry.
"But," snapped Ercole, reddening, "by whose authority have you donethis? By what right do you send sentinels on missions of your own?Christo Santo! Is the castle to be invaded while you send my watchmen tofetch your comfit-box or a book of verses?"
"You will remember----" began Romeo, with an air of overwhelmingdignity.
"Devil take you and him that sent you!" broke in the bully. "The MesserProvost shall hear of this."
"On no account," cried Gonzaga, now passing from anger to alarm, andsnatching the skirts of Fortemani's cloak as the captain was in the actof going out to execute his threat. "Ser Ercole be reasonable, I begof you. Are we to alarm the castle and disturb Monna Valentina over atrumpery affair such as this? Man, they will laugh at you."
"Eh?" There was nothing Ercole relished less than to be laughed at. Hepondered a moment, and it occurred to him that perhaps he was makingmuch of nothing. Then:
"You, Aventano," he called, "take your partisan, and patrol the easternrampart. There, Messer Gonzaga, I have obeyed your wishes; but MesserFrancesco shall hear of it when he comes his rounds."
Gonzaga left him. Francesco would not make his rounds for another hour,and by then it would not matter what Fortemani told him. In one way oranother he would be able to account for his action.
He crossed the courtyard, and mounted the steps leading to his ownchamber. Once there, he closed and barred the door. He kindled a light,and flinging the letter on the table, he sat and contemplated itsexterior and the great red seal that gleamed in the yellow light of histaper.
So! This knight-errant, this man whom he had accounted a low-born hind,was none other than the famous Count of Aquila, the well-beloved of thepeople of Babbiano, the beau-ideal of all military folk from Sicily tothe Alps. And he had never suspected it! Dull-witted did he now accounthimself. Enough descriptions had he heard of that famous condottiero,that mirror of Italian chivalry. He might have known that there didnot live two men of such commanding ways as he had seen instanced atRoccaleone. What was his object there? Was it love of Valentina, or wasit----? He paused, as in his mind he made a swift review of the politicsof Babbiano. A sudden possibility occurred to him that made his eyessparkle and his hands tremble with eagerness. Was this but a politicalscheme to undermine his cousin's throne, to which Gonzaga had heard itrumoured that Francesco del Falco was an aspirant? If it were so, what avengeance would be his to unmask him! How it must humble Valentina! Theletter lay before him. Within it the true facts would be disclosed. Whatdid his friend Fanfulla write him?
He took the letter up and made a close inspection of the seal. Thensoftly, quietly, slowly he drew his dagger. If his suspicions wereunfounded, his dagger heated in the taper should afford him the means toconceal the fact that he had tampered with that missive. He slipped hisblade under the seal, and worked it cautiously until it came up and setthe letter open. He unfolded it, and as he read his eyes dilated. Heseemed to crouch on his chair, and the ha
nd that held the paper shook.He drew the candle nearer, and shading his eyes he read it again, wordfor word:
"MY DEAR LORD COUNT,--I have delayed writing until the time when thesigns I observed should have become more definite, as they have nowdone, so that I may delay no longer. This, then, goes by the hand ofZaccaria, to tell you that to-day has word been sent Gian Maria givinghim three days in which to return to Babbiano, or to abandon all hopeof his crown, of which the people will send the offer then to you atAquila, where you are believed to be. So now, my dear lord, you have thetyrant at your mercy, tossed between Scylla and Charybdis. Yours it isto resolve how you will act; but I rejoice in being the one to send youword that your presence at Roccaleone and your stubborn defence ofthe fortress has not been vain, and that presently you are to reap thewell-earned reward of it. The people have been stirred to this extremeaction by the confusion prevailing here.
"News has reached us that Caesar Borgia is arming, at Rome, a condottato invade Babbiano, and the people are exasperated at Gian Maria'scontinued absence in such a season. They are short-sighted in this, forthey overlook the results that must attend the alliance with Urbino. MayGod protect and prosper your Excellency, whose most devoted servant is
"FANFULLA DEGLI AROIPRETI."
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