The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
livelong night the phantom stood at the foot of my bed, until the
white morning came in at my window, and I fell into a sleep.
When I awoke, I found the old intendant of the building bending over
me. The fever had abated but the thirst still remained. "Water," I
gasped through my parched lips, and he gave me to drink.
To cut a long story short, I arranged with this man for such
attendance as I should want, and to do him justice Ceci--for that was
his name--performed his part of the contract, getting me my food,
attending to the dressing of my wound, to which he applied a most
soothing salve, and such other offices a helpless person must expect.
He did not trouble me much with his presence during the earlier part
of my illness, but came as occasion required him, and, when he had
performed his work, left me to my reflections.
I may note here that I never again saw the people who helped me when I
was wounded. Having assisted me to my lodging, and aided me to dress
my hurt, as I have said, they departed, and apparently gave me no
further thought. This I am persuaded was not due to unkindly feeling,
but to prudence, and a wish to avoid being mixed up in an affair such
as mine appeared to be; for the times were such, that it was better
for a man's head to be unknown to the Magnifici Signori of Florence.
Subsequently, when things changed with me, I caused public cry to be
made, requesting the worthy citizens to come forward; but my attempt
was of no avail, beyond producing a half-dozen or so of rascal
impostors, who swore to helping me, under circumstances that never
occurred, on the off chance of hitting a nail on the head, and
obtaining a reward. But this was long after my illness, and the block
in the Bargello may have, since that time, been a resting place for
the heads of the good Samaritans for all I can say. I took a longer
time in mending than I thought I should, for an inflammation set in,
the fever came back, and when that was passed I recovered strength but
slowly. It was at this time, however, that I discovered the advantage
of reading, having up to now borne only too well in mind my father's
saying on that subject.
I began with Poliziano's Orfeo, a poor affair, and then procured, to
my delight, a translation of Plutarch's Lives. Both these books were
obtained with the greatest difficulty, so old Ceci, the attendant
said, from the library of a great Florentine noble, in which a nephew
of his was employed in copying manuscripts, and the old man charged me
an entire double florin for the use of the latter alone; an
expenditure I grudged at first; but which I would have willingly paid
twice over before I finished the volume. I inquired the name of the
nobleman; but Ceci was not inclined to tell me, and I gathered that
the owner was probably unaware that his books were taking an airing,
and enabling his library-scribe to turn a dishonest penny. On the
binding of the Plutarch was pricked a coat-of-arms, a cross azure on a
field argent, with four nails azure; but I could not, for the life of
me, remember this device, although I had served in every part of Italy
except Rome. Finally it came to my mind, that the bearings, no doubt,
belonged to some merchant prince of Florence, and would therefore be
unlikely to see anything more of fighting than a street riot, and
therefore I dismissed the subject.
I did not neglect, whilst lying in enforced idleness, to take such
steps as I could to discover the whereabouts of D'Entrangues, and
specially instructed old Ceci to make inquiries of the followers of La
Palisse. He brought me news in a couple of days, that the Frenchman
had left Florence a fortnight ago, and it was understood he was going
to join the army of Cesare Borgia, that cursed serpent who was lifting
his head so high in the Romagna. This was ill news indeed, for I had
been lying helpless for close upon a month; but I was on the mend at
last, and resolved to follow him as soon as I had strength to travel.
During my illness I had frequently thought of madame, and with the
thoughts of her, there mingled recollections of the dark eyes of the
lady who had looked at me through her mask, on the night I was
stabbed. I could think of madame in no way but with a kindly feeling;
but strange as it may seem, any recollection of the other made my
heart beat, and I would have given much even to have obtained another
glance at her. In the meantime, however, my first business was to try
and replenish my funds, for my supplies were almost exhausted by the
drain made upon them during my illness.
Old Ceci, the intendant, had in his way formed a sort of attachment
for me, and now that I was better, generally spent an hour or so with
me daily in converse. One day I let out some hint of my condition, and
Ceci, after a little beating about the bush, approached me with a
proposal.
"Signore," he said, "there are those in Florence who would like things
changed. We want our Medici back; but we want also a few good swords,
and I could tell you of a way to fill your purse."
"Say on," I replied, and the old man having first bound me to secrecy,
informed me that certain notables in Florence wanted a good sword or
two, to rid them of a great political opponent, in order to pave the
way for the return of the Medici; and without mentioning names in any
way, which, he said, would be given to me later, proposed that I
should undertake the task.
I realised at once that his suggestion meant nothing short of
assassination, and saw that my old acquaintance was apparently up to
the ears in a political plot. My first idea was to spurn the
suggestion with indignation; but reflecting that it would be better to
know more, and by this means, if possible, save a man from being
murdered in cold blood; I affected to treat the matter seriously, and
replied that I was as yet unfit for active work; but that as soon as I
was better I would discuss the subject again. He then departed.
Perhaps the time will come when the minds of men will shrink with
horror from crime, even for the sake of a good object, and however
much I loathed the proposal made to me, I could not but recollect that
the noblest names of Milan were concerned in the Olgiati conspiracy,
and that a Pontiff had supported the Pazzi attempt on the Medici. This
being so, there was excuse for Ceci and his leaders, whoever they
were; but my whole soul was wrath in me at the thought that I had been
deemed capable of doing the business of a common bravo, and if it were
not for the reason stated above, I would have flung the old
conspirator out of the room. This insult also had to go down
indirectly to D'Entrangues, and as I grew better, my desire to settle
with him rose to fever-heat. The question, however, was my resources.
Turn which way I would, there seemed to be no way of replenishing
them. The idea presented itself to me to join the Borgia, who with all
his faults was ever ready to take a long sword into his pay. But the
man was so great a monster of iniquity, that, even to gratify my
vengeance, I could not bring myself to accept the gold of St.
Valentino.
There were others to whom I could apply, such as Malatesta or De la
Rovere; but amongst them I would be known, and the burden of my shame
too great to bear. After all, it would perhaps be better to seek to
fill my purse in Florence, and let my vengeance sleep for a while. It
would be all the sweeter when it came.
With these ideas in my head, I was sitting one afternoon at the little
window of my room, putting a finishing touch to the edge of the
dagger, which D'Entrangues had left with, or rather in me, and
congratulating myself that the blade was not a poisoned one, when I
heard, as from a distance a hum of voices, which gradually swelled
into a great roar, and above this the clanging of a bell with a
peculiar discordant note. Almost at the same time old Ceci bustled
into my room, evidently in a state of high excitement, and called
out--
"Messer Donati--Messer Donati! It is to be war--war!"
I should add here that I had judged it prudent to take another name on
entering Florence, and adopted the first one that struck me, although
I afterwards thought that Donati was not quite the name to win favour
with the Florentines, amongst whom the memory of Messer Corso was
still green, although so many years had passed since he was done with.
Whether I let my own name out or not during my illness I am unable to
say; at any rate, Ceci never gave me any such hint. The news the old
man brought was not unexpected by me, yet I caught a touch of his
excitement and answered--
"War--where? Tell me."
"It is this way, signore; Naples has risen, and the Great Captain has
driven D'Aubigny out of Calabria, all the Romagna has gone from Cesare
as that," he waved his hand as if throwing a feather in the air.
"The Holy Father has cast his interdict on Florence, and Pisa is
burning the Val di Nievole."
"The devil!" I exclaimed, "this is more than I thought. The interdict
is bad, Messer Ceci."
He grinned as he answered, "Bad for the Pope. Medici or no Medici we
will not have a priest interfering in Florence."
"I see," I said, "you are Florentine first, and conspirator
afterwards; but how do the French stand?"
"With us, for we pay. It is said, however, that things are uncertain
with them, that Monsignore d'Amboise, who is now Cardinal of Rouen,
has gone to Rome, and that Tremouille is awaiting the king."
"The king! Louis is at Macon."
"Yes, Louis himself, and the Lord knows how many barons besides, with
pedigrees as long as their swords, who will eat up our corn, and
pillage our vineyards from the Alps to the Adriatic. But I came here
to ask, signore, if you will come with me to see. It is hurry and make
haste for I cannot wait. The Carroccio has left St. John's."
I had almost recovered my full strength, and was accustomed to walk
out daily at dusk in order to avoid observation, whilst at the same
time I could by doing so exercise my muscles; yet at first I felt
inclined to decline Ceci's invitation, alleging weakness as my excuse,
for my anger was still warm against him on account of his proposals to
me. Reflecting, however, that if I offended him, it would probably
fatally injure any prospect I had of saving the person whom the
conspirators intended to kill, I thought it best to affect a
friendliness I did not feel, and changing my mind in regard to
accompanying him, slipped on my sword, and followed the old man
downstairs. We hastened as fast as we could to the great square. The
people were swarming out of the houses, and the streets were full of a
hurrying throng, all directing their steps to the point, whence we
could hear the bellowing of the mob, echoed with answering cheers by
those making towards the place of assembly. Around us there was a
murmur like that of millions of bees, as men, women, and children,
jostled their way to the Palace of the Signory. My companion, who
stopped every now and again to open his jaws as wide as the mouth of a
saddle-bag, and give forth a yell, hustled along at a great pace, and
I made after him with scarcely less speed.
By good fortune, and a considerable amount of pushing, we made our way
through the press, which appeared to me to be composed entirely of
elbows, and at last reached the market-place. Here the crowd behind us
slowly drove us forwards, and finally gave us the advantage of a good
position. The square was lined with men-at-arms and stout citizens,
with boar-spears in their hands.
All at once there went up a shout louder than ever, the crowd swayed
backwards and forwards, then opened out, and admitted the Carroccio or
war-car in Florence. It was painted red, and drawn by oxen housed in