The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
"That perhaps I would accept your winnings over the gambling table,
rather than the offer of a friend. You do me much honour, chevalier."
"You wrong me, Savelli,--nay, start not. I know your name and story,
and, before heaven, I say I am your friend."
"You know me!"
"Yes, and am working for you; come, put by your sword. Look at me! Do
I look like an enemy?"
He had recovered himself, and met my gaze fearlessly. Where could I
have seen that face before? I drew my hand over my forehead as if to
sweep the cobwebs from my memory, but with no avail.
"Well," he went on, with a smile, "do I look like an enemy? If I do,
your sword is ready. Strike now, it will be a quick riddance, come!"
I put back my sword with a snap.
"I do not understand, but I accept your explanation."
He held out his hand frankly.
"That is right, and you will still let me be your comrade?"
I took his grasp.
"Yes, if you wish it."
We walked back together in silence, and on reaching the courtyard St.
Armande said,
"I am afraid I have fallen much in your esteem."
"My esteem, chevalier, is at present of no value to man or woman."
"Do you think so?" he said, and then rapidly, "Adieu for the present;
remember, I hold you to your word that you think me a friend."
I made no answer, and he ran lightly up the steps of the principal
entrance.
I supped that evening for a change with the gentlemen of the suite;
but St. Armande was not there, and there were a few free remarks made
concerning the manner in which he was supposed to have been received
at the Vatican by Giulia Orsini, and Lucrezia Borgia.
"If it goes on like this," said Le Clerc, "we will have to drag the
Tiber for his body, and say masses for his soul, unless he puts the
seas between himself and the Borgia."
"He never struck me as a man to run after the ladies," I said.
"No," replied the abbe, "but it is the other way. You would stand no
chance against him, cavalier, for all your long moustache--a thousand
thanks," and the genial Le Clerc seized the flagon of Orvieto I passed
to him, and filled his goblet.
After this the conversation changed, and I shortly retired to my
apartments, and dismissing my lackey, sat down to read a book on
falconry that the cardinal had lent me. I had not been occupied thus
for an hour when the door opened, and Jacopo cautiously peeped in. He
withdrew his head on catching my eye, and I heard him shuffling
outside.
"Come in."
"Excellency," and the sound of further shuffling, but no Jacopo. I
lost patience at this, and fearing at the same time that there had
been trouble, repeated my order to come in sharply. This had the
desired effect; but as soon as my henchman appeared in view I made
certain there had been a brawl. He was very red in the face, and from
under the helmet he wore I could see a white bandage.
"What the devil does this mean, Jacopo?" I asked sternly.
"I have come to report, excellency."
"You hardly appear in a fit state to do so."
"Perfectly fit, excellency," and Jacopo drew himself up to attention
and saluted.
"Is the matter of importance? For if not, you had better come
to-morrow."
"Yes, your excellency--matter of importance. By your worship's leave,
as you are aware, I gave a dinner to-day, and we had----"
"Never mind what you had; to the point."
"Boiled meat with sause, sausages with garlic, a _risotto alla
Milanese_----"
"I do not care what you had, go on fool."
"I am going on, excellency. Where was I--a _risotto_ did I say? And
bread made with yeast. And for drink, signore----"
"I doubt not you had store of that, Jacopo."
"But a dozen flagons or so of wine, your worship--all rosso."
"Jacopo--you will be good enough to retire at once."
"I am retiring, excellency; but my report."
"Will do for to-morrow."
"As your worship desires; but we have burnt the inn."
"What!"
"The inn, where we rested the day of our arrival in Rome, your
worship. What with one thing and another, the landlord footed up his
bill to four crowns. And I said to my friends, 'What! Are honest
soldiers to pay like this?' Whereat there was trouble, excellency; but
we came off best."
I rose without a word, and seizing Jacopo by the neck, ejected him
from the room, with, I am sorry to say, very considerable violence.
Cursing myself for my folly in having been so generous, I banged the
door after him, and returned to my book. I could not, however, read,
for my mind was full of the consequences that might arise from this
mad freak of my followers, and I determined to seek out the cardinal
the next day, and obtain his permission to move out of Rome to some
quieter spot, and there await his instructions. Amidst it all,
however, I could not help being pleased at the thought that
retributive justice had overtaken the scoundrel tavern-keeper, the
memory of whose bed made me shudder. I had no doubt that Jacopo was
speaking the truth, and that, even as he spoke, the flames were
sputtering merrily above that den of thieves.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE VATICAN.
The next morning I sought an early interview with D'Amboise, and
stated to him what had occurred, proposing that I should leave Rome at
once, and await his instructions at any point he should fix. To my
surprise he did not regard the matter in so serious a light, saying
that a small fine would no doubt settle the matter. "My dear
cavaliere," he said, "Our Lord does not desire the death of a sinner,
but only his purse. Make your mind easy, but keep a tighter hand on
your men."
"I shall assuredly do so, your eminence."
"Another thing. I think you will have to put aside your shyness, and
attend me to the Vatican for the next few days. It is extraordinary
how suspicious the Court here is. They keep a constant watch on me,
and on all the suite, and your seclusion, and solitary rides out, have
been the subject of remark. The ladies too are taking interest in you.
In fact I have been specially asked to bring you with me, by Madonna
Lucrezia, all owing to a foolish remark made by Strigonia."
"I am at your eminence's orders."
"It is a little risk, but I do not want them to think that you are
anything but a mere member of my suite. If there were the slightest
suspicion, all my plans would be upset, and the time is at hand now, a
day or two at the outside."
"Thank God! I am eating my heart out here."
"Courage, cavaliere! It will end soon. By the way, is Bayard right in
saying you have enlisted St. Armande?"
"Yes, your eminence."
"_Ciel!_ I should not have thought he would have been one for your
purpose. But that is your affair," and he began to laugh.
"I have seven good swords behind me, your eminence. The chevalier may
or may not do well; but I could hardly refuse his request."
D'Amboise made no answer, and our interview came to a close. I would,
however, add here that nothing ever came of the burning of the inn. No
complaint was ever laid, as far as I could find out, and the matter
might have been an every-day occurrence, so little attention did it
excite. I of course did not know that affairs had reached to such a
pitch of disorder in Rome, and lived in hourly expectation,
notwithstanding the cardinal's speech, of having considerable worry
over the revengeful zeal of Jacopo. I took care that no such thing was
likely to occur again, and Master Jacopo was penitent, swearing he
would never give me further cause for annoyance. At the _levee_, that
morning, St. Armande was, as usual, beside me, and I whispered to him
to hold himself in readiness, as the time for our business was at
hand.
"I am glad of that," he answered, his face lighting up.
"I attend the cardinal to-day to the Vatican," I said, by way of
continuing the conversation.
"There will be much going on this evening," he made reply. "The
Florentine envoy has been here for the past two days, and the affair
at the Vatican to-night is in his honour. Do you know that you have
excited great curiosity in the hearts of the court ladies?"
"Indeed? It is not my way."
"Is it not? Well, Lucrezia expressed a particular desire to see you."
"I trust it may not lead to the Tiber, chevalier. The attentions of
the Lady Lucrezia are a trifle dangerous."
His face became very grave.
"Be civil to her, nothing more," he whispered. "You are quite right.
Oh, how I hate that place!"--and he shivered a little.
"Well, we will soon be out of it."
"Please God!"
There was no one at the high table at dinner that day, both the
cardinal and Bayard having gone to dine with Sforza at the Sforza
Cesarini, quite an informal business, and none of the suite
accompanied them.
The conversation at our table turned much on affairs, and as there
were for once no guests, speech was very free.
"The fleur-de-lis will cover our tongues," said Le Clerc, "and to-day
we may let them wag."
"Then how long is this truce to last?" asked De Briconnet, the captain
of the cardinal's guard. "I am sick of this idleness here," he added.
"As for that, no man knows whether it is peace or war," replied Le
Clerc. "Tremouille is chafing at Passignano, swearing that the game
was ours if we had only let him march on after Fossombrone, and he was
right. Now Cesare has stamped out the Magione league, and the Borgia
are as strong as ever."
"How came such a man as Roderigo Borgia ever to be made pope?" I
asked.
Le Clerc laughed as he passed on the Orvieto.
"When our Lord, the sainted Innocent, was called away, there were
three favourites in the conclave. One was Giuliano della Rovere, the
other Ascanio Sforza, and the third Roderigo Borgia. His eminence of
St. Sabine's was our man, and the election would have been certain had
not Borgia and Ascanio joined hands and the Milanese voted for
Roderigo."
"I did not think Sforza would have been so self-sacrificing," said De
Briconnet.
"There were compensations, Jacques," Le Clerc went on. "Four
mule-loads of gold were given to Ascanio, he was made vice-chancellor
of the church, and given Borgia's own palace, the Cesarini, where his
eminence dines to-day. Immediately after the elections were made I was
at the rota exchanging a few words with your uncle, the cardinal of
St. Malo, and he told me that as soon as the result was known, Medici
turned to Cardinal Cibo, and said, 'We are in the jaws of the wolf!
Heaven grant that he may not devour us!' As for Borgia he could do
nothing but walk about, calling out, 'I am Pope, Pontiff, Vicar of
Christ!'"
"I do not suppose it can last long," said De Briconnet.
"Heaven knows. He is close upon seventy-one and grows younger every
day. He is as strong as he was thirty years ago. And there are few men
who can sit a horse as he can, even now."
"That is true," I remarked, and gave the story of my meeting with the
Borgia on the day of my arrival in Rome.
Shortly after this our dinner, where speech had been so free, broke
up, and, finding out the hour at which the cardinal would require my
attendance, I took my book on falconry, and repaired to the garden,
intending to pass the afternoon in its perusal. I made for the Lemon
Walk, and found a companion in Bran, who was wandering there in a
disconsolate manner, evidently missing his master. I set myself down
on a sheltered seat, Bran stretching out his length at my feet, his
muzzle resting between his paws, and so we remained in quiet, the dog
absolutely motionless, and I engaged in my book.
So an hour must have passed, when Bran gave a low growl, and looking
up I ran my eye up and down the walk, but could see nothing. I then
followed the direction in which the dog was gazing, and through the
leaves opposite to me, saw a stretch of green, terminating in a clump