The Viper of Milan: A Romance of Lombardy
charge--and for asking no untimely questions, Valentine would reward him
well.
With some excitement he awaited her return.
"She is a long time," said de Lana impatiently.
"She has her brother's daring," thought Giannotto. "And yet--she would
hardly dare that--hardly."
The door of Isotta's prison was opened and Valentine came out, followed
by her attendants--dark-cloaked figures keeping in the shadow. Adrian
closed and bolted the door behind them as she slowly stepped down into
the room.
"The prisoner is sick," said Valentine. "Not dangerously so, I hope; we
would not have her die in my brother's absence. She has fallen asleep
and must not be disturbed. Where is her woman?"
Luisa shuffled forward.
"You will not rouse your prisoner until my return with a physician," she
continued. "She sleeps. I will return or send; till then let no one
pass those doors, nor you yourself."
The page and Valentine's two women still stood on the steps in the
shadow.
"Come," said Valentine suddenly. "Much as I am relieved to see my
brother's hostage in such security, this is gloomy dark--come,
Costanza."
The two ladies moved forward, one weeping sadly, keeping her hands to
and fro her face.
"The poor lady hath unnerved her," said Valentine with a sharp word of
reproof, and she crossed to d'Orleans.
"Now it seems to me," said de Lana to Giannotto, "that only one lady
entered with the Princess."
"Your eyes deceived you," smiled Giannotto. "I am trained to watch; I
saw two enter." De Lana was silent. The two ladies had joined the few
others left by the outer door, the soldier kept his eyes upon the one
who wept.
Valentine was talking gayly to d'Orleans, and led the way across the
garden. "On your life I charge you to guard the prisoner," she said to
the captain and the soldiers. "She means more to the Duke than his own
life almost--more most certainly than any other," she added meaningly.
De Lana, watching keenly, still kept his eyes, as they crossed the
garden, upon that second lady, who puzzled him, and with a soldier's
indiscretion he whispered his fears to Giannotto.
"My Lady Valentine," said the secretary smiling, "my lord here thinks
you entered the prison with one lady and came out with two!"
Valentine laughed.
"And who, think you, was my second woman, then, lord? Isotta d'Este?
Nay, I will satisfy you."
"Indeed, lady," began de Lana hastily, but Valentine cut him short.
"Come here, Costanza."
The girl came forward.
"Now hold the torch higher, Adrian," laughed Valentine.
The light fell on Costanza's face.
"Is that Isotta d'Este, Giannotto?" she asked.
"Nay," smiled the secretary.
"Now, Giuletta, come hither thou," said Valentine. The other lady
stepped forward and threw back her hood.
"Now, my lord, Giannotto shall satisfy you--is this Isotta d'Este?"
The secretary did not flinch.
"My lord," he said, "you must know Della Scala's wife well enough, if by
hearsay only. Look yourself. This is not she."
They moved on again, de Lana uneasily convinced.
"Ma foi," said the silent d'Orleans suddenly. "It is growing very damp.
These Italian nights are most unhealthy." And so they passed into the
palace.
That night a light tap was heard by Giannotto, sitting in his room, and
Adrian entered and put two emerald earrings and a bag of ducats on the
table.
"For the lapse of memory," he whispered, and went as softly and as
swiftly as he had come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE DUKE'S RETURN
Having succeeded so far, Valentine had little fear; it was now an almost
easy matter for her to accomplish the remainder of her plan.
She had the palace keys in her possession, and they unlocked secret
doors, and more than one hidden entry and private way, entries and ways
she knew well, and yet otherwise could not have used.
Soon after that dawn that saw Carrara fall by the wayside, Isotta d'Este
and Valentine slipped from the palace; aided by Costanza, and joined by
Adrian in the long gallery, they passed through the secret door that led
through winding passages to the old part of the building, and thence by
another entrance almost beneath the walls themselves.
Valentine wore a page's suit, her upper lip darkened, a heavy cloak,
with a hood such as was worn in traveling, drawn about her, and by her
side Visconti's dagger.
Despite her anxiety, her passionate desire to frustrate her brother's
tyranny, her wild eagerness to be free and outside Milan, Valentine
almost enjoyed the part that she was playing; she swaggered more than
Adrian, and looked with some scorn on the weakness of Mastino's wife,
who wept with her happiness.
The thought of Gian's rage and discomfiture was very sweet to Valentine,
almost as sweet as the thought of Conrad in Della Scala's camp, and the
happy life of freedom coming.
Rapidly they traversed the narrow street that led to the gate,
Valentine erect and joyful, Isotta leaning on her arm, happy too, with a
deeper happiness, but faint and bewildered from her long imprisonment,
nervous and fearful of every sound.
Behind them strode Adrian, with eager eyes and swelling heart--the Lady
Valentine had smiled on him!
But the lady's thoughts were not on the page. With every step to
freedom, Count Conrad's blue eyes and merry laugh rose before her the
more clearly, and she remembered that last time she had essayed escape,
and he had near given her, for all he knew, his life. He was in Della
Scala's camp.
But, hasten as she might, Isotta dragged her on yet faster. Her
eagerness was pitiful to see; Valentine looked down at her white face
and trembling lips, and with a sudden impulse stooped and kissed her.
It was still so early that the streets were empty, save at the gate
where soldiers clustered, but they took small heed, for the three looked
no unusual figures.
"Now the passports," whispered Valentine. "Adrian must show them, but do
ye stand ready, Isotta, to answer if they question. I dare not, lest
they know my face. Remember, Adrian, an escort meets us half a league
away, and 'tis a quiet village that we travel to."
Isotta d'Este steadied herself against the wall, and grasping
Valentine's hand, followed Adrian toward the soldiers on guard.
"Stand to thy part now, Adrian," said Valentine; "remember 'tis our
lives."
A growing knot of men stood outside the guard-room; there seemed to be
some great excitement; ringing orders, loud talk, increasing bustle. No
one took heed of the three, nor even noticed them, and only after a
delay at which Isotta's heart sickened could Adrian find an officer to
whom to show the passports.
He glanced them over hastily. "They seem to be in order," he said, then
suddenly turned to the woman of the three:
"What do ye do leaving Milan, mistress, when the country is in arms,
with no escort save two boys?"
She hesitated, and Valentine stepped forward quietly.
"Our father is sick," she said, "and 'tis a pressing question of
inheritance. Our kinsfolk promise us an escort."
The officer shrugged his shoulders.
"'Tis your own lives," he said. "Later in the day ye can go. Not now.
There is an army coming, and the Duke in front of it."
Valentine stood still and calm.
"Our father is very ill," she said: "if we are not in time, we may be
beggared. Our passports were signed by the Duke himself. We demand to
go."
But the officer had hardly heard her. A fresh detachment of soldiers had
ridden up, and the man's thoughts and eyes were engaged in half a dozen
places.
Half mad, Isotta sprang forward, shaking off Valentine's restraining
hand.
"We must pass, we must through this moment," she cried. "Let us through,
and we'll make it worth thy while."
At the eagerness of her tone the officer turned, surprised.
"Ye are very anxious," he said.
"For the love of Heaven, a matter of life or death!" said Isotta, and in
her despair she would have knelt, only Valentine dragged her back beside
her.
"It is very serious," she said. "After the Duke has entered, we may
leave?" she asked. "Indeed, ye cannot stay us."
"Aye, leave after the Duke has entered, but now, clear yourself away;
my lord comes apace, some allies with him----" and with a wave of his
halberd he swept them back.
Valentine flushed at his tone, yet drew back, her hand on the page's
shoulder.
But Isotta struggled free and again rushed forward.
"I will pass!" she cried wildly. "I will! I have not got so far to be
stopped now!"
"Oh! thy madness!" murmured Valentine.
But Isotta had rushed to the very gate itself, and was only forced back
by the pikes at her breast.
The officer looked at the group with mistrust.
"What is this?" he said. "What means this passion?"
"She is half distraught," said Valentine. "Beggary is no small matter,
messer. We will be quiet, though, I promise you, until the Duke is
past----" And to Isotta at her side she whispered, holding her hand
tight, "Thou wilt ruin all; control thyself."
But the unfortunate Isotta was calm enough now; she followed Valentine
without resistance.
And now Carrara's army had reached the gates, and fell back to await
Visconti. The whole city was in tumult, the streets filling with excited
people; there was mad shouting, the clash of arms. "A Visconti! a
Visconti!"
"We shall be crushed to death," said Adrian. "I must find you shelter,
lady," and he looked around eagerly.
"The Duke--the Duke!" and the great gates began to open.
"It is useless!" cried Valentine, "and as well die this way as another."
"There is a door here," said Isotta; and turning with difficulty, they
saw indeed a door, deep set in the wall and closely shut.
In desperation, Adrian knocked loudly. "A Visconti!" shouted the
soldiers. "A Visconti!"
They were fast being hemmed in by the crowd, soldiers were pouring
through the gates in companies, strange soldiers, the new allies; and as
Valentine beheld them in strength and numbers, and heard them shout her
brother's name, she felt her last desperate throw was lost.
"A Visconti!"
"Knock on the door again," cried Isotta, "knock again."
Cavalry was passing, going at a trot, so close, the hoofs were almost in
their faces, the foam flew over their mantles.
Then in wild confusion they pressed back against the door; passing
close, a host of pennons waved from glittering spears, the tossing of
horses' heads, the champing of their bits, a clamor of noises, deafening
shouts, a hurry of the cavalcade, and then--suddenly a horse drawn up
close to the shrinking group in the shadow of the doorway, and a rider
looking down at them.
Wild with terror, Isotta flung herself against the door, which yielded.
Valentine looked up at the man who had stopped--saw her brother's face.
"Ah, my sister," he said between his teeth; and Valentine, scarce
knowing what she did, fled after Isotta, the page behind, closing the
door upon Visconti.
In the pleasant courtyard was a girl, dressed in scarlet, who rose,
surprised at their disordered aspect.
"'Tis only a moment gained," cried Valentine, hoarsely. "He will
follow!"
Isotta turned to Graziosa in an agony. "For the love of Heaven hide
us--for the love of Heaven, from Visconti!"
"Hide us!" said Valentine bitterly. "Hide us from Visconti!"
And Graziosa thought of the secret passage.
"I will help you," she said. "I and my father do not love Visconti----"
"Quick, maiden," cried the page. "I see the spears are motionless
outside. I will guard the door."
"They will kill thee," cried Isotta. "Thou art too young."
But Valentine turned to the boy and gave him her beautiful hand. "Guard
the door, gain us a moment, Adrian--for me," she said, and hurried
across the sunny courtyard, followed by Graziosa and Isotta.