Love-at-arms being a narrative excerpted from the chronicles of Urbino, during the dominion of the high and mighty Messer Guidobaldo da Montefeltro
“How know you it proceeded from Urbino?” quoth the captain earnestly.
“Because at its head I recognised the roaring warrior Ercole Fortemani,
in the middle rode Romeo Gonzaga, in the rear came Fra Domenico,
Madonna's confessor--men of Urbino all.”
The officer's face grew purple at the news.
“Were there any women in the party?” he cried.
“I saw none,” replied the fool, in whom this sudden eagerness of the
captain's awakened caution and reflection.
“But there were four litters,” put in Francesco, whose nature was less
suspicious and alert than the wise fool's.
Too late Peppe scowled caution at him. The captain swore a great oath.
“It is she,” he cried, with assurance. “And this company was travelling
to Roccaleone, you say. How know you that?”
“We heard it from the friar,” answered Francesco readily.
“Then, by the Virgin! we have them. Olá!” He turned from them, and ran
shouting into the gatehouse, to re-emerge a moment later with half-dozen
soldiers at his heels.
“To the Palace,” he commanded, and as his men surrounded Francesco's
party, “Come, sir,” he said to the Count. “You must go with us, and tell
your story to the Duke.”
“There is no need for all this force,” answered Francesco coldly.
“In any case, I could not pass through Urbino without seeing Duke
Guidobaldo. I am the Count of Aquila.”
At once the captain's bearing grew respectful. He made his apologies for
the violent measures of his zeal, and bade his men fall behind. Ordering
them to follow him, he mounted a horse that was brought him, and rode
briskly through the borgo at the Count's side. And as he rode he told
them what the jester's quick intuition had already whispered to him.
The lady Valentina was fled from Urbino in the night, and in her company
were gone three of her ladies, and--it was also supposed, since they had
disappeared--Fra Domenico and Romeo Gonzaga.
Aghast at what he heard, Francesco pressed his informer for more news;
but there was little more that the captain could tell him, beyond
the fact that it was believed she had been driven to it to escape her
impending marriage with the Duke of Babbiano. Guidobaldo was distraught
at what had happened, and anxious to bring the lady back before news of
her behaviour should reach the ears of Gian Maria. It was, therefore, a
matter of no little satisfaction to the captain that the task should be
his to bear Guidobaldo this news of her whereabouts which from Francesco
and the jester he had derived.
Peppe looked glum and sullen. Had he but bridled his cursed curiosity,
and had the Count but taken the alarm in time and held his peace, all
might have been well with his beloved patrona. As it was, he--the one
man ready to die that he might serve her--had been the very one to
betray her refuge. He heard the Count's laugh, and the sound of it was
fuel to his anger. But Francesco only thought of the splendid daring of
the lady's action.
“But these men-at-arms that she had with her?” he cried. “For what
purpose so numerous a bodyguard?”
The captain looked at him a moment.
“Can you not guess?” he inquired. “Perhaps you do not know the Castle of
Roccaleone.”
“It were odd if I did not know the most impregnable fortress in Italy.”
“Why, then, does it not become clear? She has taken this company for
a garrison, and in Roccaleone she clearly intends to resist in rebel
fashion the wishes of his Highness.”
At that the Count threw back his head, and scared the passers-by with as
hearty a peal of laughter as ever crossed his lips.
“By the Host!” he gasped, laughter still choking his utterance. “There
is a maid for you! Do you hear what the captain says, Fanfulla? She
means to resist this wedding by armed force if needs be. Now, on my
soul, if Guidobaldo insists upon the union after this, why, then, he has
no heart, no feeling. As I live, she is a kinswoman that such a warlike
prince might well be proud of. Small wonder that they do not fear the
Borgia in Urbino.” And he laughed again. But the captain scowled at him,
and Peppe frowned.
“She is a rebellious jade,” quoth the captain sourly.
“Nay, softly,” returned Francesco; for all that he still laughed. “If
you were of knightly rank I'd break a lance with you on that score. As
it is----” he paused, his laughter ceased, and his dark eyes took the
captain's measure in a curious way. “Best leave her uncensured, Ser
Capitano. She is of the house of Rovere, and closely allied to that of
Montefeltro.”
The officer felt the rebuke, and silence reigned between them after
that.
It was whilst Francesco, Fanfulla and Peppe waited in the ante-chamber
for admittance to the Duke that the jester vented some of the bitterness
he felt at their babbling. The splendid room was thronged with a courtly
crowd. There were magnificent nobles and envoys, dark ecclesiastics
and purple prelates, captains in steel and court officers in silk and
velvet. Yet, heedless of who might hear him, Peppe voiced his rebuke,
and the terms he employed were neither as measured nor as respectful as
the Count's rank dictated. Yet with that fairness of mind that made him
so universally beloved, Francesco offered no resentment to the fool's
reproof. He saw that it was deserved, for it threw upon the matter a
light that was new and more searching. But he presently saw further than
did the fool, and he smiled at the other's scowls.
“Not so loud Peppe,” said he. “You over-estimate the harm. At worst,
we have but anticipated by a little what the Duke must have learnt from
other sources.”
“But it is just that little--the few hours or days--that will do the
mischief,” snapped the jester testily, for all that he lowered his
voice. “In a few days Gian Maria will be back. If he were met with the
news that the Lady Valentina were missing, that she had run away with
Romeo Gonzaga--for that, you'll see, will presently be the tale--do you
think he would linger here, or further care to pursue his wooing? Not
he. These alliances that are for State purposes alone, in which the
heart plays no part, demand, at least, that on the lady's side there
shall be a record unblemished by the breath of scandal. His Highness
would have returned him home, and Madonna would have been rid of him.”
“But at a strange price, Peppe,” answered Franeesco gravely. “Still,” he
added, “I agree that I would have served her purpose better by keeping
silent. But that such an affair will cool the ardour of my cousin I do
not think. You are wrong in placing this among the alliances in which
the heart has no part. On my cousin's side--if all they say be true--the
heart plays a very considerable part indeed. But, for the rest--what
harm have we done?”
“Time will show,” said the hunchback.
“It will show, then, that I have done no hurt whatever to her
interests. By now she is safe in Roccaleone. What, then, can befall her?
Guidobaldo, no doubt, will repair to her, and across the moat he will
entreat her to be a dutiful niece and to return. She will offer to do
so on condition that he pass her his princely word not to further molest
her with the matter of this marriage. And then?”
“Well?” growled the fool, “And then? Who shall say what may befall then?
Let us say that his Highness reduces her by force.”
“A siege?” laughed the Count. “Pooh! Where is your wisdom, fool! Do you
think the splendid Guidobaldo is eager to become the sport of Italy,
and go down to posterity as the duke who besieged his niece because she
resisted his ordainings touching the matter of her wedding?”
“Guidobaldo da Montefeltro can be a violent man upon occasion,” the fool
was answering, when the officer who had left them reappeared with the
announcement that his Highness awaited them.
They found the Prince in a very gloomy mood, and after greeting
Francesco with cool ceremony, he questioned him on the matter of the
company they had met yesternight. These inquiries he conducted with
characteristic dignity, and no more show of concern than if it had been
an affair of a strayed falcon. He thanked Francesco for his information,
and gave orders that the seneschal should place apartments at his and
Fanfulla's disposal for as long as it should please them to grace
his court. With that he dismissed them, bidding the officer remain to
receive his orders.
“And that,” said Francesco to Peppe, as they crossed the ante-chamber
in the wake of a servant, “is the man who would lay siege to his niece's
castle? For once, sir fool, your wisdom is at fault.”
“You do not know the Duke, Excellency,” answered the fool. “Beneath that
frozen exterior burns a furnace, and there is no madness he would not
commit.”
But Francesco only laughed as, linking arms with Fanfulla, he passed
down the gallery on his way to the apartments to which the servant was
conducting them.
CHAPTER XIII. GIAN MARIA MAKES A VOW
In a measure the events that followed would almost tend to show that
the fool was right. For even if the notion of besieging Valentina and
reducing her by force of arms was not Guidobaldo's own in the first
place, yet he lent a very willing ear to the counsel that they should
thus proceed, when angrily urged two days thereafter by the Duke of
Babbiano.
Upon hearing the news Gian Maria had abandoned himself to such a licence
of rage as made those about him tremble from the highest to the meanest.
The disappointment of his passion was in itself justification enough for
this; but, in addition, Gian Maria beheld in the flight of Valentina the
frustration of those bold schemes of which had talked so loudly to his
councillors and his mother. It was his confidence in those same schemes
that had induced him to send that defiant answer to Caesar Borgia. As
a consequence of this there was haste--most desperate haste--that he
should wed, since wedding was to lend him the power to carry out his
brave promises of protecting his crown from the Duke of Valentinois,
not to speak of the utter routing of the Borgia which he had wildly
undertaken to accomplish.
That the destinies of States should be tossed to the winds of Heaven
by a slip of a girl was to him something as insufferable as it had been
unexpected.
“She must be brought back!” he had screeched, in his towering passion.
“She must be brought back at once.”
“True!” answered Guidobaldo, in his serene way; “she must be brought
back. So far, I agree with you entirely. Tell me, now, how the thing is
to be accomplished.” And there was sarcasm in his voice.
“What difficulties does it present?” inquired Gian Maria.
“No difficulties,” was the ironical reply. “She has shut herself up in
the stoutest castle in Italy, and tells me that she will not come
forth until I promise her freedom of choice in the matter of marriage.
Clearly, there are no difficulties attached to her being brought back.”
Gian Maria showed his teeth.
“Do you give me leave to go about it in my own way?” he asked.
“Not only do I give you leave, but I'll render you all the assistance in
my power, if you can devise a means for luring her from Roccaleone.”
“I hesitate no longer. Your niece, Lord Duke, is a rebel, and as a rebel
is she to be treated. She has garrisoned a castle, and hurled defiance
at the ruler of the land. It is a declaration of war, Highness, and war
we shall have.”
“You would resort to force?” asked Guidobaldo, disapproval lurking in
his voice.
“To the force of arms, your Highness,” answered Gian Maria, with prompt
fierceness. “I will lay siege to this castle of hers, and I shall tear
it stone from stone. Oh, I would have wooed her nicely had she let me,
with gentle words and mincing ways that maidens love. But since
she defies us, I'll woo her with arquebuse and cannon, and seek by
starvation to make her surrender to my suit. My love shall put on armour