CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE ARMOURY TOWER
The rough stones of the inner courtyard shone clean and bright inthe morning sun, still wet with the heavy rains that had washed themyesternight.
The fool sat on a rude stool within the porch of the long gallery, and,moodily eyeing that glistening pavement, ruminated. He was angry,which, saving where Fra Domenico was concerned, was a rare thing withgood-humoured Peppe. He had sought to reason with Monna Valentinatouching the imprisonment in his chamber of Messer Francesco, and shehad bidden him confine his attention to his capers with a harshnesshe had never known in her before. But he had braved her commands, andastonished her with the information that the true identity of thisMesser Francesco had been known to him since that day when they hadfirst met him at Acquasparta. He had meant to say more. He had meantto add the announcement of Francesco's banishment from Babbiano and hisnotorious unwillingness to mount his cousin's throne. He had meant tomake her understand that had Francesco been so minded, he had no needto stoop to such an act as this that she imputed to him. But she had cuthim short, and with angry words and angrier threats she had driven himfrom her presence.
And so she was gone to Mass, and the fool had taken shelter in the porchof the gallery, that there he might vent some of his ill-humour--orindeed indulge it--in pondering the obtuseness of woman and theinsidiousness of Gonzaga, to whom he never doubted that this miserablestate of things was due.
And as he sat there--a grotesque, misshapen figure in gaudy motley--anungovernable rage possessed him. What was to become of them now? Withoutthe Count of Aquila's stern support the garrison would have forced herto capitulate a week ago. What would betide, now that the restraint ofhis formidable command was withdrawn?
"She will know her folly when it's too late. It's the way of women," heassured himself. And, loving his mistress as he did, his faithful soulwas stricken at the thought. He would wait there until she returned fromMass, and then she should hear him--all should hear him. He wouldnot permit himself to be driven away again so easily. He was intentlyturning over in his mind what he would say, with what startling,pregnant sentence he would compel attention, when he was startled bythe appearance of a figure on the chapel steps. Sudden and quietly as anapparition it came, but it bore the semblance of Romeo Gonzaga.
At sight of him, Peppe instinctively drew back into the shadows of theporch, his eyes discerning the suspicious furtiveness of the courtier'smovements, and watching them with a grim eagerness. He saw Romeo lookcarefully about him, and then descend the steps on tiptoe, evidentlyso that no echo of his footfalls should reach those within the chapel.Then, never suspecting the presence of Peppe, he sped briskly across theyard and vanished through the archway that led to the outer court. Andthe fool, assured that some knowledge of the courtier's purpose wouldnot be amiss, set out to follow him.
In his room under the Lion's Tower the Count of Aquila had spent arestless night, exercised by those same fears touching the fate ofthe castle that had beset the fool, but less readily attributing hisconfinement to Gonzaga's scheming. Zaccaria's presence had told him thatFanfulla must at last have written, and he could but assume that theletter, falling into Monna Valentina's hands, should have containedsomething that she construed into treason on his part.
Bitterly he reproached himself now with not having from the very outsetbeen frank with her touching his identity; bitterly he reproached herwith not so much as giving a hearing to the man she had professed tolove. Had she but told him upon what grounds her suspicions against himhad been founded, he was assured that he could have dispelled them ata word, making clear their baselessness and his own honesty of purposetowards her. Most of all was he fretted by the fact that Zaccaria'spresence, after a coming so long expected and so long delayed, arguedthat the news he bore was momentous. From this it might result thatGian Maria should move at any moment and that his action might be of adesperate character.
Now through the ranks of Fortemani's men there had run an inevitabledismay at Francesco's arrest, and a resentment against Valentina whohad encompassed it. His hand it was that had held them together, hisjudgment--of which they had had unequivocal signs--that had given themcourage. He was a leader who had shown himself capable of leading, andout of confidence for whom they would have undertaken anything thathe bade them. Whom had they now? Fortemani was but one of themselves,placed in command over them by an event purely adventitious. Gonzaga wasa fop whose capers they mimicked and whose wits they despised; whilstValentina, though brave enough and high-spirited, remained a girl of noworldly and less military knowledge, whose orders it might be suicidalto carry out.
Now by none were these opinions more strongly entertained than byErcole Fortemani himself. Never had he performed anything with greaterreluctance than the apprehension of Francesco, and when he thought ofwhat was likely to follow his consternation knew no bounds. He had cometo respect and, in his rough way, even to love their masterful Provost,and since learning his true identity, in the hour of arresting him, hisadmiration had grown to something akin to reverence for the condottierowhose name to the men-at-arms of Italy was like the name of some patronsaint.
To ensure the safe keeping of his captive, he had been ordered byGonzaga, who now resumed command of Roccaleone, to spend the night inthe ante-room of Francesco's chamber. These orders he had exceeded byspending a considerable portion of the night in the Count's very room.
"You have but to speak," the bully had sworn, by way of showingFrancesco the true nature of his feelings, "and the castle is yours. Ata word from you my men will flock to obey you, and you may do your willat Roccaleone."
"Foul traitor that you are," Francesco had laughed at him. "Do youforget under whom you have taken service? Let be what is, Ercole. Butif a favour you would do me, let me see Zaccaria--the man that came toRoccaleone to-night."
This Ercole had done for him. Now Zaccaria was fully aware of thecontents of the letter he had carried, having been instructed byFanfulla against the chance arising of his being compelled, for hissafety, to destroy it--an expedient to which he now bitterly repentedhim that he had not had recourse. From Zaccaria, then, Francesco learntall that there was to learn, and since the knowledge but confirmed hisfears that Gian Maria would delay action no longer, he fell a prey tothe most passionate impatience at his own detention.
In the grey hours of the morning he grew calmer, and by the light ofa lamp that he had called Ercole to replenish, he sat down to write aletter to Valentina, which he thought should carry conviction of hishonesty to her heart. Since she would not hear him, this was the onlycourse. At the end of an hour--his moribund light grown yellow now thatthe sun was risen--his letter was accomplished, and he summoned Ercoleagain, to charge him to deliver it at once to Monna Valentina.
"I shall await her return from chapel," answered Ercole. He took theletter and departed. As he emerged into the courtyard he was startled tosee the fool dash towards him, gasping for breath, and with excitementin every line of his quaint face.
"Quickly, Ercole!" Peppe enjoined him. "Come with me."
"Devil take you, spawn of Satan--whither?" growled the soldier.
"I will tell you as we go. We have not a moment to spare. There istreachery afoot---- Gonzaga----" he gasped, and ended desperately: "Willyou come?"
Fortemani needed no second bidding. The chance of catching pretty MesserRomeo at a treachery was too sweet a lure. Snorting and puffing--forhard drinking had sorely impaired his wind--the great captain hurriedthe fool along, listening as they went to the gasps in which he broughtout his story. It was not much, after all. Peppe had seen Messer Gonzagarepair to the armoury tower. Through an arrow-slit he had watched himtake down and examine an arbalest, place it on the table and sit down towrite.
"Well?" demanded Ercole. "What else?"
"Naught else. That is all," answered the hunchback.
"Heaven and hell!" roared the swashbuckler, coming to a standstill andglowering down upon his impatient companion. "And you have made me runf
or this?"
"And is it not enough?" retorted Peppe testily. "Will you come on?"
"Not a foot farther," returned the captain, getting very angry. "Is thisa miserable jest? What of the treachery you spoke of?"
"A letter and an arbalest!" panted the maddened Peppe, grimacinghorribly at this delay. "God, was there ever such a fool! Does this meannothing to that thick, empty thing you call a head? Have you forgottenhow Gian Maria's offer of a thousand florins came to Roccaleone? On anarbalest quarrel, stupid! Come on, I say, and afterwards you shall havemy motley--the only livery you have a right to wear."
In the shock of enlightenment Ercole forgot to cuff the jester for hisinsolence, and allowed himself once more to be hurried along, across theouter court and up the steps that led to the battlements.
"You think----" he began.
"I think you had best tread more softly," snapped the fool, under hisbreath, "and control that thunderous wheeze, if you would surprise SerRomeo."
Ercole accepted the hint, meek as a lamb, and leaving the fool behindhim on the steps, he went softly up, and approached the armoury tower.Peering cautiously through the arrow-slit, and favoured by the fact thatGonzaga's back was towards him, he saw that he was no more than in time.
The courtier was bending down, and by the creaking sound that reachedhim Ercole guessed his occupation to be the winding of the arbaleststring. On the table at his side lay a quarrel swathed in a sheet ofpaper.
Swiftly and silently Ercole moved round the tower, and the next instanthe had pushed open the unfastened door and entered.
A scream of terror greeted him, and a very startled face was turned uponhim by Gonzaga, who instantly sprang upright. Then, seeing who it was,the courtier's face reassumed some of its normal composure, but hisglance was uneasy and his cheek pale.
"Sant Iddio!" he gasped. "You startled me, Ercole. I did not hear youcoming."
And now something in the bully's face heightened the alarm in Gonzaga.He still made an effort at self-control, as planting himself betweenErcole and the table, so as to screen the tell-tale shaft, he asked himwhat he sought there.
"That letter you have written Gian Maria," was the gruff, uncompromisinganswer, for Ercole reeked nothing of diplomatic issues.
Gonzaga's mouth jerked itself open, and his upper lip shuddered againsthis teeth.
"What---- Wha----"
"Give me that letter," Ercole insisted, now advancing upon him, andwearing an air of ferocity that drove back into Gonzaga's throat suchresentful words as he bethought him of. Then, like an animal at bay--andeven a rat will assert itself then--he swung aloft the heavy arbalest heheld, and stood barring Ercole's way.
"Stand back!" he cried; "or by God and His saints, I'll beat your brainsout."
There was a guttural laugh from the swashbuckler, and then his armswere round Gonzaga's shapely waist, and the popinjay was lifted from hisfeet. Viciously he brought down the cross-bow, as he had threatened; butit smote the empty air. The next instant Gonzaga was hurtled, bruised,into a corner of the tower.
In a rage so great that he felt it draining him of his very strengthand choking the breath in his body, he made a movement to rise and flinghimself again upon his aggressor. But Fortemani was down upon him, andfor all his struggles contrived to turn him over on his face, twistinghis arms behind him, and making them fast with a belt that lay at hand.
"Lie still, you scorpion!" growled the ruffler, breathing hard from hisexertions. He rose, took the shaft with the letter tied about it, readthe superscription--"To the High and Mighty Lord Gian Maria Sforza"--andwith a chuckle of mingled relish and scorn, he was gone, locking thedoor.
Left alone, Gonzaga lay face downward where he had been flung, able todo little more than groan and sweat in the extremity of his despair,whilst he awaited the coming of those who would probably make an end ofhim. Not even from Valentina could he hope for mercy, so incriminatingwas the note he had penned. His letter was to enjoin the Duke to holdhis men in readiness at the hour of the Angelus next morning, and towait until Gonzaga should wave a handkerchief from the battlements. Atthat he was to advance immediately to the postern, which he would findopen, and the rest, Gonzaga promised him, would be easy. He would takethe whole garrison at their prayers and weaponless.
When Francesco read it a light leapt to his eye and an oath to hislips; but neither glance nor oath were of execration, as Ercole stoodexpecting. A sudden idea flashed through the Count's mind, so strangeand humorous and yet so full of promise of easy accomplishment, that heburst into a laugh.
"Now may God bless this fool for the most opportune of traitors!" heexclaimed, in surprise at which Fortemani's mouth fell open, and theeyes of Peppe grew very round.
"Ercole, my friend, here is a bait to trap that lout my cousin, such asI could never have devised myself."
"You mean----?"
"Take it back to him," cried the Count, holding out the letter with ahand that trembled in the eagerness of his spirit. "Take it back, andget him by fair means or foul to shoot it as he intended; or if herefuses, why, then, do you seal it up and shoot it yourself. But seethat it gets to Gian Maria!"
"May I not know what you intend?" quoth the bewildered Ercole.
"All in good time, my friend. First do my bidding with that letter.Listen! It were best that having read it you agree to join him in hisbetrayal of Roccaleone, your own fears as to the ultimate fate awaitingyou at Gian Maria's hands being aroused. Urge him to promise you money,immunity, what you will, as your reward; but make him believe yousincere, and induce him to shoot his precious bolt. Now go! Lose notime, or they may be returning from chapel, and your opportunity willbe lost. Come to me here, afterwards, and I will tell you what is in mymind. We shall have a busy night of it to-night, Ercole, and you mustset me free when the others are abed. Now go!"
Ercole went, and Peppe, remaining, plagued the Count with questionswhich he answered until in the end the fool caught the drift of hisscheme, and swore impudently that a greater jester than his Excellencydid not live. Then Ercole returned.
"Is it done? Has the letter gone?" cried Francesco. Fortemani nodded.
"We are sworn brothers in this business, he and I. He added a line tohis note to say that he had gained my cooperation, and that, therefore,immunity was expected for me too."
"You have done well, Ercole." Francesco applauded him. "Now return methe letter I gave you for Monna Valentina. There is no longer the needfor it. But return to me to-night toward the fourth hour, when all areabed, and bring with you my men, Lanciotto and Zaccaria."
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