The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
"Yes," he muttered half to himself, "strong fingers that can close
over a sword-hilt, a soldier too, and one who has seen wars. Too much
conscience ever to be great. You will never die a prince as Sforza
did. Stay--what do I see? A man changed to a wolf--no--wolf you will
never be. A bitter enemy, a woman who loves you, and a free heart for
yourself. Sorrow and danger, bale and ruth, then calm waters and
peace. There! Are you satisfied? If the devil does not upset this, it
is the map of your life. Can you read mine?"
"No," I replied, withdrawing my hand, and somewhat surprised at the
general accuracy of this man's knowledge of my past. Yet, I could not
help crossing myself as I thought of his allusion to the foul fiend.
"Ay!" he sneered, "cross yourself. Peter and Paul are old and blind.
They do not see. Pray if you like. God is too far above the stars to
hear you. Go on your knees and beat at the skies with your
lamentations. You will surely see the light of a seraph's wings. Do I
not know--have I not seen the deep? Some day you will know, too."
He stopped as suddenly as he burst out, and betook himself to his old
trick of moving his lips rapidly, forming words without any sound. I
began to think I was with a madman, and rapidly cast up the chances of
a struggle. I was physically the stronger, but armed as he was, with
an unsheathed dagger, the odds were against me. Perhaps it would be
prudent to begin the assault myself, and taking him by surprise,
overpower him. When, however, I came to consider that I was in a
manner his guest, that he had shown me kindness, and given no signs of
personal violence, I was ashamed of my fears.
"You say you are going to Bucine?" He asked the question in his usual
abrupt manner; but his tone was composed.
"It lies on my road."
"And on mine, too. Shall we travel together? I could point out the
way."
"Certainly. It is very good of you."
"Well, it is time to sleep, and the torch has burnt to an end."
As he spoke he stretched himself out at full length, and, turning his
back to me, appeared to sink at once into slumber. I watched him for
some time by the embers of the torch, wondering if I was wise in
accepting his companionship, and then, overpowered by fatigue, lost
myself in sleep, heedless of the rain, which dripped in twenty places
through the roof.
I slept profoundly, until aroused by my shoulder being gently shaken,
and looking up, beheld my host, as I must call him, bending over me. I
thought I had slept for a few minutes only, and saw to my surprise
that it was well in the morning, and the sun shone brightly. All
traces of cloud were gone, though soft billows of mist rolled over the
olive gardens, and vineyards of Chianti grape, that stretched towards
Montevarchi.
"Heavens, man! How you sleep! I was right when I hinted you had a good
conscience."
I scrambled up with a hasty Good-morning; and a few minutes
afterwards, having finished the remains of the wine in the skin, we
started off in the direction of Bucine. My companion had politely
never inquired my name, and I had been equally reticent. He placed on
his head a silken fools'-cap, and the bells on it jingled incessantly
as he walked along with a jaunty air, at a pace that was remarkable
for a man of his age. He seemed to have lost the melancholy that
possessed him during the night, and conversed in so cheerful and
entertaining a manner, that in spite of myself, I was interested and
withdrawn from my unhappy thoughts. He kept up his mood to Bucine
where, notwithstanding our strange appearance, we attracted, to my
relief, less attention than I imagined we should draw.
With appetites sharpened by our walk, we did full justice to the meal
I ordered at the only hostel in the place. Here I played host, as a
return for my entertainment, and in conversation my acquaintance said
that he was bound for Florence. I told him that also was my point, and
invited him to bear me company on the road, to which he willingly
agreed. I made an attempt here to hire a horse; but not even a donkey
was procurable, all available carriage having been seized upon for the
army. So once more descending the hill on which Bucine is situated, we
forded the river and continued our journey.
At the albergo we heard that a body of troops were foraging along the
banks of the Arno, and resolved to make a detour, and, crossing Monte
Luco, to keep on the sides of the Chianti hills, if necessary avoiding
Montevarchi altogether. My companion maintained his high spirits until
we reached the top of the spur of Monte Luco, known to the peasantry
as the Virgin's Cradle. Here we stopped to breathe and observe the
view. I looked back across the Chiana valley, and let my eye run over
the landscape which stretched as far as the Marches. In the blue
splash, to the south of the rugged and conical hill of Cortona, I
recognised Trasimene, and beyond it lay Perugia. I turned to call my
friend's attention to the scene, and at first did not perceive where
he was. Another glance showed him standing on the edge of the cliff, a
little to my left, shaking his clenched hand in the direction of
Perugia, whilst on his face was marked every sign of sorrow and hate.
Curious to see what this would result in, I made no attempt to attract
his attention, but in a moment he shook off the influence which
possessed him, and rejoined me with a calm brow. We thereupon
continued our journey with this difference, that my companion was now
as silent as hitherto he had been cheerful. My own dark thoughts too
came back to roost, and in a gloom we descended the Cradle, pushing
our way through the myrtle with which it was covered, and walked on,
holding Montevarchi to our right.
We kept a sharp look-out for the foragers, and seeing no signs of
them, made up our minds, after some consultation, to risk going to
Montevarchi, which we reached without mishap a little after noon. It
was not my intention to halt there more than an hour or so, which I,
hoping I would have better luck than at Bucine, intended to spend in
trying to hire an animal of some kind to ride.
We stopped at the Bell Inn, near the gate, and after a deal of
bargaining, which consumed a good hour, the landlord agreed to hire me
his mule for two crowns. The rascal wanted ten at first. Just as the
matter was settled a dozen or so of troopers rode in, and, spying the
mule, in the twinkling of an eye claimed it for carriage purposes.
It was in vain the landlord protested that it was his last beast, that
it had been hired to the noble cavaliere, meaning me, and many other
things beside. The soldiers were deaf to his entreaties, and although
I had more than a mind to draw on the villains, I had the good sense
to restrain myself, for the odds were too many against me. I therefore
hid my chagrin under a smile, and the mule was led away amidst the
lamentations of mine host, who was further put out of pocket by a
gallon or so of wine, which the troopers consumed, doubtless in honour
of the prize they had taken, neglecting in the true fashion of the
_compagnes grandes_ to pay for it. It was a fit lesson to the
landlord, for had he not, in his cupidity, haggled for an hour over
the hire of the animal, he might have been the richer by two crowns
and still owned his mule. Thus it is that avarice finds its own
punishment.
On going off, the leader of the troop, a man whom I knew by sight and
by reputation as a swashbuckler, if ever there was one, made me a mock
salute, saying, in allusion to my quietness in surrendering my claim
to the mule, "Adieu, Messer Feather-Cap--may your courage grow as long
as your sword." This taunt I swallowed ruefully, and immediately set
about my departure. My companion, who was not mixed up in the
altercation, joined me silently, and we followed in the direction
taken by the troopers, pursued by the maledictions of the innkeeper,
who vented his spleen on us as the indirect cause of his misfortune.
The foragers, who owing to the warmth of the weather had all removed
their breast-plates, which were slung to their saddles, were going at
a walking pace; and it was amusing to see how the mere sight of their
presence cleared the streets. Noting, however, that they did not
appear to be bent on personal injury, we did not think it necessary to
go out of our course, or delay our departure until they left the town,
and as we walked fast and they went slowly, by the time they reached
the main square, we were not more than a dozen yards behind them.
At this moment we noticed the figure of a woman, apparently blind, for
she was guided by a little dog attached to a string. The poor creature
was crossing the pavement almost in front of the leader of the troop,
and as she was right in the path of the troopers, we attempted to warn
her by shouting, and she stooped irresolutely, hardly knowing which
way to turn. The troop leader, without making any effort to avoid her,
rode on in a pitiless manner, and she was flung senseless to the
ground. In this her hood fell back, uncovering her face, and my
companion, suddenly uttering a loud cry, ran forward, and seizing her
in his arms, began to address her with every term of endearment, in
the manner of a father to his child.
The troopers halted--discipline it will be observed was not great--and
one of them with rough sympathy called to my friend to bear the girl,
for so she looked, to the fountain, at the same time that their
commander gave a loud order to go on, and to leave off looking at a
fool and a beggar. I had, however, made up my mind there was a little
work for me, and, drawing my sword, stepped up to the swashbuckler's
bridle, and asked for a five minutes' interview there and then.
He burst into a loud laugh, "_Corpo di Bacco!_ Here is Messer
Feather-Cap with his courage grown. Here! two of you bind him to the
mule."
But the men with him were in no mood to obey, and one of them openly
said--
"It is always thus with the ancient Brico."
"Do you intend to give me the pleasure I seek," I asked, "or has the
ancient Brico taken off his heart with his corselet?"
For a moment it looked as if he were about to ride at me: but my sword
was ready, and I was standing too close to him for any such treachery
to be carried off. Flinging the reins, therefore, to the neck of his
horse, he dismounted slowly and drew his sword. A number of the
townsfolk, attracted by the scene, so far forgot their fear of the
foragers as to collect around us, and in a few moments a ring was
formed, one portion of which was occupied by the troopers.
Brico took his stand so as to place the sun in my eyes, a manifest
unfairness, for we should have fought north and south; yet I made no
objection, and unclasping my cloak let it fall to the ground behind
me.
"_A vous!_" he called out, and the next moment we engaged in the lower
circle, my opponent, for all his French cry, adopting the Italian
method, and using a dagger to parry. For a few seconds we tried to
feel each other, and I was delighted with the balance of my sword. It
did not take me a half minute to see that he was a child in my hands,
and I began to rapidly consider whether it would be worth the candle
to kill him or not. Brico, who had commenced the assault with a stamp
of his foot, and a succession of rapid thrusts in the lower lines,
became aware of his weakness as soon as I did, and began to back
slowly. I twice pricked him over the heart, and his hand began to
shake, so that he could hardly hold his weapon.
"Make way there," I called out mockingly, "the ancient would like to
run a little."
Maddened by this taunt, he pulled himself together and lunged
recklessly at me in tierce; it was an easy parry, and with a strong