The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
"That was only yesterday, man," he snapped, "and De Briconnet is
riding for his life to the king. But it is about this I sent for you,"
he went on rapidly. "De Briconnet may come to harm. Here are other
despatches. Take them and follow him; overtake him if you can. When
can you start?"
"Now."
"Good--here are the papers. And this for Tremouille. Adieu!"--and he
held out his hand--"_Monsieur le Compte_."
I started a little at the last words which he uttered in French, but
had no time to ask for explanation or make inquiry. I hurried to my
apartments and found Castor ready. Bidding Jacopo follow me to Arezzo
with my men as soon as possible, I gave Castor the rein and rode out
of Rome. At Citta del Pieve I got my first news of De Briconnet. At
Cartona he was but two hours ahead of me, and when on the afternoon of
the second day I reined in the staggering Castor at the gates of the
Villa Accolti, where the king was, I saw in the courtyard a dead
horse, his sides still bleeding from the spur marks, and judged that
De Briconnet had barely beaten me by a head for all his twelve hours'
start. So once again had I entered the Villa Accolti! And as I sprang
to the ground, loosed the girths over Castor's heaving flanks, and
resigned the reins to a willing groom who led the poor beast to rest,
all the past came back to me with a vivid force, and I looked around,
almost expecting to meet again the glances of scorn and contempt, to
hear once more the hisses, the mockery, and the foul reproach of that
day.
The cardinal was right enough when he said that high junkets were to
be held. And the day seemed to be one of merry-making. Flags were
flying from all parts of the villa, and the wide grounds were full of
the followers of the court, and the townspeople either watching, or
engaged in sports of wrestling, archery, and other games.
For the great ones, however, the out-of-door amusement of the day came
to an end with the dinner-hour, and they were now disporting
themselves within. From the open windows strains of music floated out
into the sunlight and gay figures passed and repassed, or moved in and
out of the balcony overhanging the grand entrance which seemed, from
the constant movement and the brilliant dresses of those who crowded
thereon, to be like a bed of flowers stirring in the wind. As I came
below the balcony, I did not dare to look up, but with my sword in the
loop of my arm and my despatches clenched in my right hand, walked up
the marble steps.
"Post from Rome! Post from the Lord Cardinal!"
The sonorous voice of the ushers pealed this out, and I found myself
at the entrance to the gallery leading to the great hall where I had
been tried.
"Not here, sir--to the left." My way was barred by an equerry in
violet and gold.
"Not so, De Brienne, the king receives these despatches in person,"
and Bayard had linked his arm in mine.
"But, my lord!"
"I take the blame," and Bayard, blazing in full mail, led me through
the gallery whose sides were lined with the archers of the Scottish
Guard. Archers in name only now, and little as my time was, I could
not forbear glancing at these fine troops, who, although few in
number, bore an unequalled reputation for service in the field. The
doors at the entrance to the hall, which were guarded by two gigantic
men-at-arms, were opened only at fixed intervals to let people in and
out, and by this means an attempt was made to avoid overcrowding.
There were a considerable number before us, and having to go slowly,
we had time to exchange a few words.
"I suppose De Briconnet has passed in?" I asked, "he could only have
just arrived, for his horse lies dead at the gates."
"I doubt it. All posts are received by De Vesci, whose wrath we are
going to brave. If De Briconnet came in here direct, he was probably
stopped and sent to the seneschal's apartments."
"If so, as he was the first-comer, he should present the despatches,"
I urged; "I bear but duplicates?"
"There is no time to think of that now," replied Bayard, and as he
spoke the doors unfolded, and in a crash of music and the murmur of
voices, above which now and again trilled a peal of clear feminine
laughter, we entered the hall. At first we were unobserved, for the
interest of every one was gathered to the centre of the room, where to
the strains of music a game of chess was being played with living
figures. The king himself took part in it, and I had good opportunity
of observing him. Time had not changed Louis much, although his
reckless life had enfeebled his constitution. He had the features of
his house, the wide forehead, the oval face, the pointed chin, below
which his short brown beard was neatly trimmed. His grey eyes were set
somewhat wide apart, and his hair, which was naturally straight, he
wore carefully curled, in a length that all but touched his shoulders.
He was dressed in a tight-fitting surcoat of green, with green
trunk-hose and stockings of the same colour. A short cloak, also of
green, fell from his shoulder, and below his left knee was bound the
ribbon of the English Order of the Garter, of which he was very proud.
On his head was a velvet cap lapelled in front and on either side, and
alive with the light of jewels, with which it was studded. He was
playing king in the game, Madame de la Tremouille acting as queen, and
the rival king was Tremouille himself, who had for his partner Isabel
the Good, the wife of Gonsaga of Mantua, a princess distinguished
alike for her beauty and her virtue. A little apart from the players,
and watching the game with a grave interest, stood Etienne de Vesci,
the Seneschal of Beaucaire, who was, after the cardinal, the most
powerful man in France, and, indeed, was supposed by many to have more
of the king's ear. Close by him were a number of ladies, and I ran my
eye amongst them and around the hall, hoping in vain to catch sight of
the one face I longed to see. Whilst so engaged De Vesci observed me,
and seeing the papers in my hand, made an imperious gesture, beckoning
me towards him. This I pretended not to observe, and the seneschal,
biting his lip, edged his way towards me. It was easy to see from my
travelled and stained appearance, the red on my spurs, and the packet
in my hand, that I was the bearer of news.
"Is not monsieur aware," he said in a harsh voice, speaking in French,
"that papers for the king should be brought to me?"
"These are for the king's hand," I answered.
"It is enough. Give them to me," and he held forth his hand.
"I have said, my lord, that they are for His Majesty's own hands."
Bayard, who was watching the game now drawing to a close, turned round
at this, and grasping the matter, cut in.
"_Ciel!_ My Lord, let the cavaliere deliver his packet. It will come
to you soon enough. Take a holiday for once."
De Vesci frowned, and was about to make a hot answer, when there was a
sudden shout and a clapping of hands, and Louis, who had won the game,
came forward leading Madame de la Tremouille in triumph. The last move
was made but a few feet from us, and as the king faced round with his
partner he caught sight of our group and called out as he advanced--
"Victory! We have won. Why those black looks, De Vesci? Come and
congratulate us."
With an effort the seneschal smoothed his face, "Victory always
attends your majesty, and with so fair a partner defeat would be
impossible," and he bowed with a courtly grace; but the wrinkles of
his frown were still on his forehead. The duchess grew red with
pleasure at the compliment, and Louis clapped his hands like a boy.
"Excellent! Trust a courtier's lip for a soft speech;" and then,
observing me, "but what have we here?"
"From Rome, your majesty," and dropping to my knee, I presented my
papers, which the king took irresolutely in his hand.
"_Diable!_" he exclaimed, with an impatient gesture, "from my lord
cardinal no doubt?" And he glanced at me.
"Your majesty, and of the most vital import," and I rose.
"I must read them, I suppose. A plague on the cardinal! We were just
going to the minuet----"
"I will deal with the matter, sire. The papers should have come to
me," and De Vesci, saying this in his harsh, grating voice, reached
forth his hand. Usually a perfect master of his temper, he had
somehow, for once, let it get the better of him; and his closing words
and manner were almost those of command. Louis, though a brave man,
had a weak nature and a hasty temper. A temper that was often aroused
to fits of obstinacy, little short of mulish. He caught the
seneschal's tone, and perhaps also the suppressed smile that nickered
on the faces of his courtiers. His forehead darkened, "You mistake, my
lord, these papers come rightly to me," and turning his back on the
seneschal, he tore open the packet.
De Vesci stepped back, white to the lips, and the court gathered round
the king in silence. Seeing Tremouille at hand, I made bold to step up
to him, and give him D'Amboise's note. He glanced at it, and turning
to me said, "I gave my word, and it shall be kept. The honour of
Tremouille is pledged."
I was at a loss to understand; but had no time to think, for Louis
suddenly called out, "Tremouille--Bayard--gentlemen! The Borgia is
taken! Rome is ours!"
At once there was a buzz, and a murmur of voices, in eager
congratulation at the glad tidings. Standing alone and apart from all,
I could barely see Louis, so closely did the court press around him;
but it seemed that Tremouille was urging something on him, and the
duchess too, for I caught the flash of the jewels on her fingers, as
in her eagerness she laid them on the king's arm. Then Bayard's deep
voice came to me clearly, "If done, 'twere well done quickly, sire."
I do not exactly know how it happened; but I found myself kneeling
before the king, who stood above me, his drawn sword in his hand.
"M. di Savelli," he said, "one king of France owed you his life,
another all but owes you a kingdom. Wear again your cross. It was
nobly won. Take back your knighthood." He laid the blade gently on my
shoulder, "for God, for your King, for your Lady. Arise, Sir Knight!"
He stretched forth his hand to aid me to my feet, and I stood up
again, with my honour white, in the very hall, almost on the very
spot, whence I had been cast out in ignominy and shame.
I could not speak--I was choked--my eyes were wet with tears. Seeing
my emotion, Louis placed his hand kindly on my shoulder.
"Remember, Di Savelli," he said, "France needs you yet. To the minuet,
my lords and ladies--to the minuet!"
And he turned down the hall, not waiting for my thanks. But friends
sprang up everywhere. The first to give me her good wishes was the
Duchesse de la Tremouille, then came the duke, old Ives d'Alegres, and
others I can scarcely name. It was whilst in their midst that I saw a
face I knew well, and Machiavelli came up.
"Late, but not the less warm in my congratulations," he said; "so the
good ship is safe in port at last! We owe you too much for speech, and
can never thank you enough."
"Your excellency is most kind. Is the Lady Angiola well?"
He was silent for a moment, and laughed to himself, as if something
stirred him. "As well as ever she was," he answered at length, and
added, "You must sup with us this evening. We lodge in the Borgo di
San Vito, and never mind your attire. My wife longs to see you, and
thank you in person."
Other friends coming up, our converse was brought to an end, and I
managed to effect my escape, and take refuge in the pavilion of
Bayard, who insisted on my being his guest. I would have willingly
foregone the supper at the Borgo di San Vito, as I was weary; but
having promised, borrowed a horse from my host, and set out. I reached