Leonora D'Orco: A Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  Ramiro d'Orco sat in his own splendid room while rumours of the deathof the unfortunate Duke of Gandia spread consternation through thecity; but he had before him a parchment with a large pendant seal,which gave him the important ecclesiastical fief of Imola, and hethought of little else. The first great step he had ever been able totake in that high road of ambition which he had so long been eager tofollow was now taken. He saw before him along career of greatness, andhe calculated that, step by step, as C?sar Borgia rose, he must risewith him. He did not over-estimate at all the abilities of that veryremarkable man; and it was no wild calculation to presume that, withsuch abilities, with such courage, with such ambition, and without ascruple, C?sar Borgia, in that unscrupulous age, must rise to thehighest point of power and dignity.

  True, the town of Imola had its own lords; true, it was stronglygarrisoned; but the barony had been declared forfeited to the HolySee, and the fortifications were too much decayed to withstand asiege. Linked as he was now with C?sar Borgia, and knowing that hisservices, especially with the hostile Cardinal of St. Peter's, werenecessary to the Holy See, he doubted not that the forces of the pope,which were soon to be employed against Forli, in the immediateneighbourhood of Imola, would be permitted to place him in possessionof the vicariate. He was resolved, however, to make sure of that pointas early as possible, and if not successful in his application, toraise troops himself and endeavour to surprise the place.

  The second day after the assassination of the Duke of Gandia, Ramirod'Orco, with more splendour than he had yet displayed in Rome,presented himself first at the Vatican, and then at the palace of thecardinal. At the Vatican he was refused admittance, and the attendantstold him the dreadful sufferings of the father for the loss of hiseldest and best-beloved son. They assured him, and assured him truly,that the pope, shut up in his cabinet, had neither seen any one, nortasted food of any kind since the death of the duke had beenascertained. At the Borgia palace he was admitted, and he found in thegorgeous saloons a number of the high nobility of Rome, broughtthither by the same motive which he himself professed, namely, tocondole with the young cardinal upon his brother's death. With a graveair and a sad look, he advanced slowly toward Borgia, and expressed ingraceful and well-chosen terms his regret and horror at the eventwhich had occurred.

  The drama was well played on both parts, although, to tell the truth,C?sar was so much amused at the farce, that, had he not been the mostcomplete master of dissimulation in the world, he must have laughedaloud. He looked grave and sad, however; and when Ramiro, after havingstayed for some time in the hope that the other visitors would depart,rose to do so himself, C?sar said to him, in that bland and caressingtone which he knew so well how to use--

  "Stay with me, my Ramiro. Your company will give me consolation. Youmust partake my poor dinner, though, to say truth, I have no stomachfor aught."

  One by one the barons departed, and if any one suspected that thecardinal was not so much grieved as he appeared to be, they took carenot to express their doubts to any one--no, not to their dearestfriends or most trusted confidant. When they were gone, a quiet smilepassed over C?sar Borgia's lips, but neither he nor Ramiro made theslightest allusion to the events of the past.

  The cardinal, however, was in the most benign and generous humour. Hisappetite at dinner showed no signs of decay, nor did he altogetheravoid the wine-cup. Ramiro knew that he was necessary to him, andtherefore ate and drank with him without fear, although it was notalways a very safe proceeding. In the course of the dinner Ramiroalluded to the difficulties he might have in obtaining possession ofImola; but C?sar cut him short with a kindly smile, saying--

  "I have thought of all that, and that will be easily arranged, Itrust. My journey to Naples once over--and it will only take tendays--I march against these traitor vicars of the Holy See, and willexpel them from the possessions they unjustly retain. The pope, myfriend, does not bestow a fief without putting the recipient inpossession of it. The first occupation of his forces under my commandwill be to establish you safely in your city, trusting that I shallhave your aid and good counsel in dealing with the others which I haveto reduce. Ramiro," he continued, changing his tone and speakingabruptly, "you have done me vast service, and those who serve me wellare sure of my gratitude. You have rendered great services, too, tothe Holy See, and can render greater still, for there is only oneenemy we have to fear, that fierce Julian. Continue to keep him incheck for my sake, and as long as my father lives you may count uponme as your friend."

  "I hope, indeed, to be able to do still more," and Ramiro; "for whenmy daughter is united to a cousin of the King of France, his companionand his friend, I shall have a mouthpiece at that court which canwhisper a word in the king's closet more potent than all that Juliande Rovera can say at the council table."

  "Good--good," said C?sar Borgia; and then they proceeded to discussmany points in regard to their future proceedings, which would notinterest the reader. Suffice it to say, a few weeks after thisconversation, a strong body of the papal troops appeared before thegates of Imola, and summoned the garrison to surrender. Merely a showof resistance was made: but at the first mention of terms the garrisonagreed to capitulate, and before night marched out. On the followingmorning C?sar Borgia pursued his way toward Forli, and Ramiro d'Orco,with a splendid train and a considerable band of armed men, whom hehad engaged in Rome, made his public entry into the city. The people,who had suffered some oppression from their late lords, shouted andrejoiced, and all his first acts gave promise of a gentle and paternalrule.

  Only two days had passed after he became Lord of Imola, when FatherPeter, as he was now called, was summoned to the presence of Ramirod'Orco, and told to prepare for an immediate journey to Florence.

  "I send a noble lady of this place," said the baron, "with twentymen-at-arms and some women servants, to bring my daughter hither; butyou, my good Mardocchi, have an especial part to play in thisbusiness. You will hand her my letter; tell her, her presence isneedful to me, and that the dangers she feared in Rome do not exist atImola. You have told me, I think, that you have seen and known theyoung Lord Lorenzo Visconti. He is expected in Florence soon to wed mydaughter, and will go at once to the Casa Morelli. You must remainbehind after the Signora Leonora has set out, and wait for his coming.When he arrives you must immediately see him, and induce him to comehither. Tell him that I found it expedient for many reasons thatLeonora should be with me until he came to claim her hand, but fornone more than this: I have certain information that my good cousin,Mona Francesca Morelli, having lost her beauty from the effects ofinjuries she received some months since, is about immediately to enterthe convent of San Miniato. Leonora will then be without protection inFlorence, unless she goes with Mona Francesca to the convent, whichwould not please me, as I fear the influence of the sisters upon hermind. You will tell Signor Visconti, however, that I am forgetful ofno promises, and that I am ready to bestow upon him my child's hand assoon as he arrives at Imola."

  "But how long am I to wait for him, noble lord?" asked Mardocchi:"young gentlemen are sometimes fickle, and perchance he may not comeas soon as you expect."

  A sudden flush passed over Ramiro's face, and his brows contracted;but after a short pause he answered, in his usual tone:

  "He is not fickle, my good friend. He will be there within a monthafter you reach Florence; the ways are all open now, and there isnothing to impede him; but even if, from some accident which we cannotforesee, he should be delayed a fortnight or three weeks longer, Iwould have you stay for him. Few men, my good Mardocchi, are likely tobe fickle with _my_ daughter."

  He laid an emphasis on the word "my", but yet there was something ofpaternal pride and tenderness in his tone.

  "I should think it would be somewhat dangerous," said the friar with alaugh; "however, I will be ready, my lord, at your command, and willobey you to the tittle."

  "Dangerous!" said Ramiro, after the man left him. "But this isnonsense; he dar
e not slight her."

  In some eighteen days' time Leonora appeared in Imola, more beautiful,perhaps, than ever, and many of the young nobles of the neighbouringcountry would willingly have disputed her hand with any one; butRamiro d'Orco took care to make it known that her heart, with hisapprobation, had been won by another, whose bride she was soon to be.Toward her he was, perhaps, in some degree, more tender than he hadshown himself before, yet there was but little difference in hismanner or his conduct; there was the same indulgence of her slightestwishes; the same grave, almost studied reserve. He told her more as acommand than a permission, that she would be united to Lorenzo as soonas he arrived; and Leonora's heart beat high with hope andexpectation.

  Week passed by after week, and still Lorenzo did not come. One letterarrived from Florence informing Ramiro and his daughter that MonaFrancesca, deprived of Leonora's society, which had of late been heronly solace, had retired from the world even earlier than she hadintended; but nothing was heard of Mardocchi, though he was known tobe a good scribe.

  Six weeks--two months passed, and fears of various kinds tookpossession of Leonora's heart. Ramiro d'Orco said nothing, but heappeared more grave and stern than ever.

  At length a carrier passing by Imola brought a letter from Mardocchi.It was merely to ask if he should return. He made no mention ofLorenzo, but he merely laconically remarked that he thought he hadstayed long enough. Ramiro d'Orco laid the letter before his daughterwithout remark, but he took advantage of a messenger going to Francefrom C?sar Borgia to order Mardocchi to return.

  And what did Leonora do? A tear or two dropped on the villain'sletter. She had no doubt of Lorenzo's constancy. His heart was imagedin her own, and she saw nothing fickle, nothing doubtful there. Shethought he must be ill--wounded, perhaps, in some encounter--unable tocome or write, But she had heard of the courier's passing too, and shelonged to write. There had been something in her father's manner,however, that made her hesitate, and, after long thought she wentboldly up to his private cabinet. He was seated, signing some officialpapers, but he looked up the moment she entered, saying--

  "What is it, Leonora?"

  A new spirit had entered into her with her love for Lorenzo Visconti,and she answered no longer with the timidity, nay, with that fearwhich at one time she felt in speaking to her father.

  "Lorenzo must be ill, my father," she said. "I am told that there is acourier going to France, and I long to write by him. I feel it wouldbe better, wiser, to have no secrets from my father--to let him knowmy whole heart and all my acts. I, therefore, will not write withoutyour permission."

  "Write--write, my child," said Ramiro d'Orco, with a more beaming lookthan usually came upon his countenance. "God grant that this youngman's disease may be more of the body than the mind. His conduct isstrange, but yet I will lose no chance. I cannot write to him, but youmay. Woman's love may pardon what man's harder nature must revenge.Perhaps this letter may e explained. God grant it!"

  Leonora retired to her chamber and wrote:

  "My spirit is very much troubled, dear Lorenzo"--such were thewords--"You promised to return in two months after we parted. Fivehave passed; and you have neither come nor written. I know you areill. I entertain no other fear; but my father, I can see, has doubtsthat have never entered into my mind. I beseech you remove them. Amessenger has been waiting for you at Florence to explain to you thatmy father has become Lord of Imola, and that I have joined him here.It is probable that this good man, Father Peter, may not be able toremain waiting for you any longer, and I therefore write to let youknow where you will find me. That you will seek me as soon as it ispossible, or write to me if it is impossible for you to seek me soon,no doubt exists in the mind of your LEONORA."

  She folded and sealed the letter, and took it at once to her father;but Ramiro remarked on the green floss silk with which it was tied.

  "Take some other colour, my child," he said; and, stretching acrossthe table, he threw before her a small bundle of those silks withwhich it was customary to attach a seal to letters in that day."There is crimson," he said; "that will suit better for the occasion."

  There seemed a meaning lurking in his speech which Leonora did notlike; but she obeyed quietly, and was about to leave the letterre-sealed with him, when he suddenly said--

  "Stay! better put in the corner, 'To be shown to the Reverend FatherPeter, at the Casa Morelli, Florence, in case the Signor LorenzoVisconti should have arrived.' If he be there, it would be useless tosend the letter on to France; if not there, Father Peter will forwardit."

  Leonora obeyed willingly, for during the short time she had been inher father's house she had found that the friar was high in Ramiro'sgood opinion, and that all the attendants, taking the colour of theirthoughts from those of their lord, spoke well of Father Peter. Nor hadthe little which she had seen of him in Florence at all enlightenedher as to the real character of the man. To the eyes of childrenfragments of coloured glass look like gems, and Leonora was too youngto distinguish in a moment, as one old and experienced can sometimesdo, the false from the true stone.

  The direction was written in the corner with her own hand, whichprevented the letter from ever reaching her lover.

  No sooner was it shown to Mardocchi than he told the messenger hewould keep it, as he had certain intelligence that the young cavalierwould be in Florence in three days. Lorenzo Visconti had been inFlorence long before, and from the old porter at the Casa Morelli hadheard the story which Mardocchi had put in the man's mouth; thatLeonora had gone to join her father at Imola, thence to proceedimmediately to some distant part of Italy, no one knew where. The deafold man's kindly feeling prevented him from telling all that Mardocchisuggested, namely, that it was Ramiro d'Orco's intention to wed hisdaughter to some of his new friends in the south, and that Leonoramade no opposition. That was the tale which reached Lorenzoafterwards, for it was diligently spread; and as more than half of theintelligence of Europe was in those days conveyed by rumour, it passedcurrent with most men, though it came in no very tangible form.

  No sooner had C?sar Borgia's courier departed from Florence thanMardocchi set out for Imola. He was engaged in a somewhat hazardousgame, and it was necessary for him to be on the spot where it couldmost conveniently be played. The one predominant passion, however, wasas strong in his heart as ever, and, had it cost him his life, hewould have played out that game for revenge. The circumstances of thetime favoured all his machinations. There were no regular posts inthose days. Communication was slow and scanty. An armed horsemancarried the letter of this or that great lord or merchant from town totown, and sometimes was permitted, if his journey was to be a longone, to take up small packages from private citizens in the placesthrough which he passed. It may easily be conceived that, in suchcircumstances as these, it was easy for a villain, shrewd anddetermined in his purpose, to intercept what communication he pleased.A flagon of fine wine, a golden ducat, readily brought all ordinarycouriers to reason; and the dangerous secrets he possessed gaveMardocchi, even with his lord, an influence denied to any other man inImola.

  I may well, therefore, pass over all the details of those means bywhich he worked the misery of Lorenzo Visconti and Leonora d'Orco.Only two facts require to be mentioned. He soon found, or ratherdivined, that it would be needful to stop Leonora's correspondencewith her cousin Blanche; and after the first two or three, no letters,addressed to the latter, left the castle of Imola. They were, ingeneral, burned immediately; but, in carelessly looking through one ofthem, the traitor found a few words which he thought might answer hispurpose at some future time.

  Leonora's pride, in writing to her cousin, had somewhat given way onhearing of the approaching marriage of Blanche and De Vitry, and shealluded sadly to her own disappointment. "For once," she wrote, "anearly engagement has been crowned with happiness. Oh! what a fool Iwas to cast away the first feelings of my heart, without knowingbetter the man to whom I gave them."

  These words were ca
refully out out, and when at length a letter fromLorenzo came, sent from Rome by Villanova (the new ambassador of theFrench king to the Papal court), it did not share the fate of therest. It was a last effort to draw at least some answer from Leonora;and it had very nearly reached her for whom it was intended, thecourier having arrived at a very unusual hour. But Mardocchi was allears and all eyes, and he stopped the packages at the very door ofRamiro d'Orco's cabinet.

  "The good lord slept," he said; "he had been exhausted by long laboursin the service of his people. The letters should be delivered as soonas he woke."

  In the meantime he held them in charge; and when they were delivered,one was missing. That one was sent back again to France some fewmonths before the death of Charles VIII., and into the cover wasslipped the scrap of paper containing those words in Leonora's ownhand, "Oh! what a fool I was to cast away the first feelings of myheart without knowing better the man to whom I gave them!"

  Mardocchi laughed as he placed the writing close under the seal.Whether he saw the extent of the evil he was working, who can tell?Vague notions might flit before his imagination of dark ulteriorconsequences--of Ramiro d'Orco's seeking vengeance for the slightshown to his daughter--of Lorenzo's fiery spirit urging on aquarrel--of his own power to direct the dagger or the poison, thoughhe had vowed to use neither with his own hand; but certain it is thatno result could be too terrible for his desires.