The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
red trappings. The great beasts had dragged the car slowly from the
chapel of St. John's, where it stood in times of peace, and laboured
along under its weight. From the car itself projected two poles on
which hung the banner of the Commonwealth, a red giglio on a white
field. Immediately behind this came another car, bearing the
Martinello or war-bell, which was incessantly clanging out its angry
notes. It was to ring now for a full month, without ceasing.
Around the cars were the principal nobles of the city, and the oxen
being guided to the "bankrupt stone," were there unharnessed. Pietro
Soderini, the brother of his eminence of Volterra, who was then
Gonfaloniere for life, raised his hand. In a moment there was silence,
and the vast audience listened to the brief oration that fell from the
lips of their chief magistrate. He painted in stirring words the
dangers of the times; he called to the people to forget party hatreds
in the face of the common crisis; he appealed to their past, and then
concluded: "Therefore," said he, "for the safety of the State, have we
to whom that safety is entrusted put our hope in God, and our hands to
the sword. Citizens, we give to our enemies, to Rome, and to Spain,
war, red war--and God defend the right!" With that, he drew off his
glove of mail and flung it on the pavement, where it fell with a
sudden crash.
The silence of the crowd continued for a little, and then, from forty
thousand throats rang out cheer after cheer, as the sturdy citizens
roared out their approval of the gage thrown down.
In the midst of all this some partisan of the Medici, hysterically
excited, raised a shout of _Palle_! _Palle!_
"Blood of St. John!" exclaimed Ceci, "who is that fool? He will die."
It was the well-known cry of the exiled Medici, and it drove the crowd
to madness. Instantly there was an answering yell.
"_Popolo_! _Popolo!_ Death to tyrants!" I cannot tell what happened
exactly; but in the distance, I saw a man being tossed and torn by the
mob. For a moment, his white face rose above the sea of heads, with
all the despair in it that the face of a drowning man has, when it
rises for the last time above the waves; then it sank back, and
something mangled and shapeless was flung out into the piazza, where
it lay very still. I stood awestruck by this vengeance.
"Yet the Medici _will_ come back, signore!"
Ceci whispered this in my ear, as he stood with his hand on my
shoulder.
CHAPTER VII.
THE GARDEN OF ST. MICHAEL.
On our way back Ceci was somehow separated from me, whether by
accident or design, I cannot say. I did not quite regret this, as I
had made up my mind to see as little as possible of him for the
future, thinking he had repaid himself for his kindness, by the
proposals he had made to me. Indeed, I may say I never sought his
society, although, until he showed his hand, his visits and
conversation gave me some pleasure, for notwithstanding his position,
he was a well-informed man, who, in the earlier part of his life, must
have seen better days, and perhaps hoped to see them again, if his
plot succeeded. The words he had let drop, to the effect that the
Medici would come back, had given me a hint as to what that plot was.
It was evident that my old friend was an active member of the Bigi, or
Grey Party in Florence, that were then working secretly for the
restoration of Lorenzo's sons. It seemed clear too, that the attempt
to be made, was to be directed against some very eminent member of the
State--perhaps the Gonfaloniere himself, and I began to wonder if it
was not my duty to lay the information I had before the Signory. I
could not, however, reconcile this with my promise of silence, and
therefore my tongue was tied. Still I could not sit tamely by, and see
a man murdered in cold blood, and I decided therefore, to remain in
Florence somehow, and if possible avert the crime, although it would
interfere, no doubt, with my own business. But one cannot always be
thinking of one's self. Perhaps also, though not quite conscious of it
then, I had some idea of again meeting the unknown lady of the gala
procession, in whom, in spite of myself, I felt I was taking too great
an interest.
During the night I had but little sleep, for the affair of the mad
partisan of the Medici, and the declaration of war, had roused the
citizens to fever heat, and all night long, crowds thronged the
streets, their hoarse shouts of _Popolo_! _Popolo!_ mingling with the
incessant clanging of the war-bell, which itself was loud enough to
wake the dead. The next day, however, I resolved to take the bull by
the horns, and with a view to fill my purse, determined to present
myself before La Palisse, and offer him my sword. I sallied out,
therefore, finding the streets fairly empty, the all-night indignation
meeting of the Florentines having wearied them a little. Still,
however, there were knots of people here and there, all in a more or
less excited condition. I was in no particular hurry, and taking a
lesson from the snail, went at a leisurely pace, and eventually
reached the headquarters of La Palisse, which were in the Medicean
palace, in the Via Larga. The courtyard and entrance-hall were full of
soldiers, and evidently active preparations for the campaign were in
progress, for there was a continuous stream of people going in and
out. No one took any notice of me, and holding my cap in one hand, and
straightening the feather on it with the fingers of the other, I
advanced unquestioned through the crowded rooms. In this manner I
proceeded until I came to a gallery, on one flank of which there was a
series of windows overlooking the street; at the end of the gallery
hung a purple curtain, covering, as it happened, an open door. On the
curtain itself was embroidered a crimson shield, bearing the _palle_
of the Medici. Before this I was stopped by a young officer, who asked
me my business, and I replied it was with La Palisse himself.
"Impossible!" he replied; "you cannot see the General."
"Why not, signore?"
"Tush, man! You look old enough to understand that orders are orders."
"What is it, De Brienne?" a sharp voice called out from within. The
officer lifted the curtain, and went inside. I was determined to gain
an interview with the great man, and had therefore said my business
was of importance. The leanness of my purse is my excuse for the
subterfuge, which I subsequently regretted, as will be seen further
on. Shortly after De Brienne came out. "Well, messer--messer----"
"Donati," I said.
"Well, Donati, the General will see you. You may enter."
I accordingly did so, and found myself in the presence of a short,
thick-set man, seated at a small table, on which was spread a map,
over which he was looking intently. In a corner of the room lay his
helmet and sword, and he himself was in half-mail, wearing a Milanese
corselet, on which was emblazoned the red dragon of his house. As his
head was bent over the paper, I could not at first make out his
features, and remained standing patiently. Suddenly he lifted his
face, and looked at me with a quick "Well--your business, sir?"
I was accustomed to strange sights, but for the moment was startled,
so horribly disfigured was the man. The sight of one eye was
completely gone, and half his face looked as if a red-hot gridiron had
been pressed against it. The other eye was intact, and twinkled
ferociously under its bushy grey eyebrow. I recovered myself quickly,
and made my request in as few words as possible. He became enraged as
I finished. "Bah!" he said, "I thought your business was of
importance. I can do nothing for you, my list is full. You have gained
admission to me under a pretence--go!" and he resumed his study of the
map. I would have urged the matter, but all my pride was aroused at
his words, and so, with a short good-day, I turned on my heel and
walked out. Passing through the gallery, I saw De Brienne, leaning
against an open window, talking to another young officer. They both
looked at me, and burst into a loud laugh. At any other time I might
have treated this with contempt, but I was sore all over at my
reception, and approaching the two said, "You seem amused,
gentlemen--it is not well to laugh at distress."
They stopped their laughter, staring haughtily at me, and De Brienne
said, "Your way, signore, lies before you," and he pointed down the
corridor.
"Perhaps the Signor de Brienne would care to accompany me--unless,"
and I looked him steadily in the face.
"Unless what?" De Brienne flushed angrily.
At this moment we heard a hasty footstep on the marble floor, and La
Palisse advanced. "Still here," he said to me, "did I not tell you to
begone?"
"My business is with the Signor de Brienne," I replied stiffly, for my
blood was hot within me.
"I am quite prepared," began De Brienne, but the free-captain
interposed.
"Not in the least. I cannot allow my officers to go fighting with
every _croque-mort_, who comes here with a long sword and a lying
story. Look at him, De Brienne--every inch a bravo! Harkee, Donati!
Begone at once. Not another word, or by God, I will have you hanged
from the nearest window!"
It did not require me to carry my perception in my right hand, to be
aware that La Palisse was capable of fulfilling his threat, and
although I was inclined to draw on him there and then, I knew what the
ultimate results would be. So swallowing my pride as best I could, and
regretting the ill-humour which had subjected me to this insult, I
stalked into the street.
I made my way to my ordinary, and sat there to cool, which took some
time. I was able to see, that the rebuff I received was due in great
part to my own mismanagement; also that there was no hope for me from
La Palisse, and that my steps must turn elsewhere if I wished my purse
to show a full-fed appearance. I dined sparingly, drinking but a half
measure of Chianti, which I mixed with water, and it made but a thin
fluid. When I finished my slender repast, there was nothing left but
to kill time. It was useless to go back to my lodging; for want of
funds had compelled me to discontinue, until better times, my newly
acquired habit of reading, and Ceci, despite the kindness he had shown
me, was precise in the exaction of payment for offices performed by
him. No more indeed could be expected from a huckstering mind such as
his, inherited no doubt from a line of bargaining citizens, whose
hearts were in their bales of wool. So I strolled towards the garden
of St. Michael, passing on the way the piazzi, where there were still
numbers assembled, and wondering at the implacable hatred of the
Florentines towards their noblest blood, a hatred they carried so far,
as to build the walls of the Palace of the Signory obliquely, rather
than they should touch the spot where the Uberti once dwelt. And this
set me reflecting on the unreasoning stupidity of the _canaille_, in
their enmity towards gentle blood. Perhaps I was a little influenced
in these thoughts, from the fact that the Uberti were connected by
marriage with the Savelli, a daughter of Maso degli Uberti having
wedded that Baptista di Savelli who upheld by force of arms his right
to attend the Conclave of Cardinals. It was sad to think that of the
Uberti not one was left, and of the Savelli--I alone. I will not
include the Chigi, for they come through the female line, and although
Amilcar Chigi, the son of my father's old enemy, subsequently made
advances of friendship towards me, I felt bound to explain to him that
I was the head of the house, despite the broad lands his father got
with his mother Olympia, by an unjust decree of the Chamber of Lies.
This, however, is a family affair, which does not concern the