The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
Alexander almost made a motion as if he was wringing his hands; but
recovered himself with an effort, and kissed his son on the cheek.
"So do the devils kiss." Lucrezia spoke these words under her breath,
and I turned sharply round and looked at her. Her eyes fell beneath my
glance of inquiry, and to raise some conversation I addressed Giulia
Bella.
"So that is the Duke of Valentinois?"
"Yes--and the man immediately behind him is Don Michelotto."
"The strangler."
"You use strong terms, sir," the eyes of the Farnese flashed fire, and
Lucrezia added hurriedly--
"Yes, yes--you are right--the strangler."
"Hush, fool!" and Giulia Bella laid her hand on her friend's shoulder.
"See, they come this way--be cool!"
In fact, Cesare had turned from his father without either of them
exchanging a word, and was coming directly towards us. On the way he
passed a group consisting of D'Amboise, Bayard, and the Cardinal of
Strigonia. Valentinois stopped, and in his speechless way, held out
his hand to Bayard, who merely bowed stiffly. Cesare's dark face
whitened with rage, and dropping his hand to his side he walked
straight on, and I could see that D'Amboise was expostulating with
Bayard, and Strigonia openly laughing. This insult, however, had not
added to Cesare's good temper; in fact, he came up to us as angry as a
man could be, and after greeting his sister coldly, turned to St.
Armande and looked at him in silence.
"It is usual, signore," said Don Michelotto to the chevalier, "to
stand in the presence of a prince."
"I was not aware that you were a prince, sir," replied St. Armande,
entirely ignoring the Borgia.
"You can give this young gentleman a lesson in manners at your
leisure," said Cesare. "By your leave, sir," and giving his hand to
his sister, who took it passively, he led her to another apartment,
followed by Giulia Bella, who tapped a good-bye on St. Armande's arm
with her closed fan.
Our group now consisted of Michelotto and myself standing, and St.
Armande still sitting comfortably in the lounge, evidently examining
the contour of his small and shapely foot. As for me, although I knew
St. Armande to be grossly in the wrong, I was delighted with the
sudden spirit he had shown. The youngster had heart, after all, and
there was the making of a man in him.
Michelotto behaved with great composure.
"I trust, signore--I do not know your name--that you will give me the
chance of carrying out the duke's commands."
"My name is St. Armande," replied the chevalier; "and I am ready now,
if you wish it."
"This is scarcely the place, signore; but the Vatican gardens are a
few feet away. If you will meet me near the summer-house, in, say,
half an hour from now, it would be a convenience. If we left together
perhaps it would excite remark," and the Spaniard played with the
inlaid hilt of his dagger.
"Very well."
Michelotto gave St. Armande a bow, made a slight inclination towards
me, and strolled off. To all intents and purposes we might have been
engaged in the most friendly of conversations.
"Well, cavaliere," said St. Armande looking up at me, "are you
satisfied now?"
"I am satisfied, chevalier, that you are still too young to be trusted
alone. If you wanted to pick a quarrel there were a hundred courses
open to you: there are fifty other men with whom you might have
crossed swords with no danger except to yourself, and you must needs
insult Cesare, and get embroiled with a cut-throat and risk our plans.
Where is your prudence? But the wine is poured out now. You must
drink."
His colour kept coming and going. "I mean to fight it out. I shall
step out in ten minutes, and await him. See! they are all gathering
round the tables. What with the wine and the dice, no one will take
heed who goes or who comes--good-bye!" and he held out his hand to me.
"Nonsense, man--you are not going alone. You will want a second."
"But not you," he replied, "any one but you. You have work to do--not
you, Savelli." His voice had almost a choke in it as he spoke.
"Come," I said, "put an end to this, or you will be run through the
ribs. I am going with you."
He gave in with a feminine gesture of agreement.
"The business will not take long----"
"It will take long enough, signore, if you go as you are going," and
Corte stood beside us. "Signore," he added, "I have overheard every
word of the scene. Do not go as you value your lives. If you do go, go
with a strong party."
"Diavolo!" I exclaimed, "an affair of the dagger then!"
St. Armande looked from one to another of us in surprise. "This is a
friend, chevalier," I said, "who has done us good service," and
turning to Corte, "but we must meet the man--how on earth are we to do
so in any force?"
"Look round you," he made answer, "like master, like man--stroll out.
You have some swords at your back. Take them with you; but better not
go at all. Ah! I see my new master, the Camulengo, looking towards
me--be wise and do not go," and Corte moved off to where the Cardinal
Ascanio Sforze was seated, surrounded by a little group of courtiers
and priests.
"Who is that man?" asked St. Armande.
"I met him under circumstances too long to tell you here," I said,
"some other day you may hear all about him. We will however take his
advice, and meet Don Michelotto with an extra sword or so at our
backs." So saying I took his arm, and we strolled through the
apartments, where every one appeared to be giving full rein to his
fancy. In fact the beginning of an orgie had set in. Alexander,
apparently recovered from the shock of meeting with his son, was at
the gaming table, playing heavily, with Giulia Bella at his side.
Bayard and Gonsalvo de Cordova were engaged in earnest converse with
each other, and Strigonia and D'Amboise were cracking a flask of wine.
I heard D'Este say as we passed him--"It is adieu to your eminence
after to-night. I am a sheep fat enough for the shambles, and must
look to my throat and my fleece."
"You would be wise Strigonia," D'Amboise made answer, "if the shield
of France did not cover me, I would not be here another hour. But it
is an ill thing to lose a comrade such as you."
"To better times," and the prelate who could only eat, drained his
glass to the prelate who could both eat and think.
We now began to hurry a little, and found that Corte was right, for
the soldiers who had lined the passage inside the Bronze Gates had
taken themselves off, and a considerable numbers of servants and
followers were enjoying here the results of piratical raids on the
supper tables.
Outside, however, everything was in order, for De Leyva was a thorough
soldier. I found both the Spaniard and De Briconnet cursing their luck
at being on the guards, and attacking a capon which they were washing
down with copious draughts of Falernian. Their duties kept them
outside, and it was a poor supper they were making, by the light of
torches, seated together on the steps of the Vatican.
"What! out already, cavaliere?" asked De Briconnet. "Is the cardinal
going?"
"No, but there is a little business," I answered as I called Jacopo.
"_Nom du diable!_ Can I not come?"
"It would be a relaxation," said De Leyva.
"I am afraid not, gentlemen, although we thank you. Here, Jacopo! Get
three of our fellows and follow me. Tell the others to hold their
horses."
It was done in a twinkling, and in a few steps, having harked back, we
were in the Papal gardens. The casino or summer-house of the Pope was
in full light, and we directed our steps there without difficulty. I
made two of our men walk in front, Jacopo and the third behind us, and
we remained in the middle. Strict orders were given to have swords
ready, and to use them at once.
Except for the moonlight, the gardens themselves were not illuminated,
and as we tramped along the paths, I thought to myself how easy it
would have been for Michelotto to have got rid of both St. Armande and
myself, if we had been fools enough to go without escort.
Nothing happened. We reached the casino and waited there a full hour;
but there was no sign of Michelotto.
At last I lost patience.
"He never meant to cross a sword with you, chevalier. I can bear
witness you were here, and kept tryst. We have escaped a felon's blow
however. Come back--it is getting late--even for his eminence." We
turned, and made our way back, but it was a good two hours before
D'Amboise retired. Bayard had gone on long before, declining all
offers of escort. When we reached the palace we found he had arrived
safely.
I wished St. Armande a good night, with more respect for him in my
heart than I ever felt before, and turned to seek my apartments. Late
as it was, however, there was to be no sleep for me, as De Briconnet,
whose brain the Falernian had merely made more lively, insisted on
accompanying me, and we split another flask, and talked of falconry
till the verge of the morning.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE OPAL RING.
"His eminence will await the Signor' Donati at supper this evening."
Defaure delivered his message, received his answer, and tripped away,
his little page's cap set jauntily on the side of his head, and the
haft of his dagger clinking against the silver chain which held it to
his belt. As for me, my heart leaped at the words, for I felt sure my
business was come, and summoning Jacopo, I gave him the necessary
orders to have our men in readiness for an immediate start. I then
sought St. Armande, and told him what I expected.
"I am ready," he said simply.
"Very well, then sup lightly, and await me in my apartments."
I turned back, and on reaching my rooms, was surprised to find I had a
visitor awaiting me. It was Corte. As I have said, he had cast aside
his fantastic dress, and was robed as a doctor. He still kept his
heavy book under his arm, and the features of his curious seamed face,
and thin bloodless lips, were as pale as if he had arisen from the
dead. His eyes alone blazed with an unnatural brilliancy, but he was
outwardly calm.
"I came but to see if you were safe, signore, after last night," he
said as he took my hand.
"Thanks," I replied, offering him a seat, "we are all quite safe.
Nothing happened. The Don was not there, either he had changed his
mind, or we were in too strong force."
"A little of both, I should think," he said with a thin smile, as he
placed his book on the table. "Signore," he went on, "are you not a
little surprised and curious to see me as I am?"
"Well, Messer Corte, I will own to it. But I am honestly glad that
Fortune has given the wheel a right turn for you."
"It is not Fortune," he said, "it is something greater. It is Fate. No
chance turn of the wheel of a sleeping goddess. When I fled from you,
signore, on that day," his voice choked a little, "I came to Rome.
Never mind how. Here a great man found me. Great men pick up little
things for their purposes sometimes. And Matthew Corte, who is but a
little man, knows things the great man does not know. Ho! ho!" and he
laughed mirthlessly.
"And that has put crowns in your purse?"
"Yes, crowns in my purse, crowns in my purse," he repeated, and then
the old madness came upon him, and he rose and paced the room. "I
could have done it last night, made the hilt of my dagger ring against
his heart--the devil--the devil. But he is not to die this way--not
thus--not thus. He will die as no other man has died, and it will come
soon, very soon--Matthew Corte swears this."
He stopped suddenly, and turned to me with the question:
"Have you ever seen a mad dog die?"
"No," I answered, wondering what would come next.
"Well, my dog is dead."
"I am sorry," I began, but he interrupted.