The Viper of Milan: A Romance of Lombardy
They rode in silence till, at the turn of the street, another splendid
cavalcade crossed theirs. It was the Lady Graziosa and her suite. Tisio
Visconti and d'Orleans were in attendance; she rode a white palfrey.
The sun lay tenderly in her soft hair; her green dress was covered with
pearls, and round her throat she wore the emeralds Visconti had promised
his sister, the first jewels in Italy, robbed from Della Scala.
Valentine noticed them, she noticed Graziosa's happy face, the joy she
took in the homage paid her, in Visconti's success that so galled her,
Visconti's sister, and a sudden purpose rose in her eyes.
She smiled sweetly on Graziosa, and rode up to d'Orleans; the Frenchman
remarked with pleasure how she outshone the Duke's betrothed. The deep
blue of her velvet robe made her skin appear of dazzling fairness, her
hair was like burnished gold, her mouth like a red flower, but her eyes,
for all her smile, as dangerous as Gian Maria's could be, as mad, almost
as wicked.
"We are well met, my lord," she said, smiling. "Have there been even
greater victories?"
"I know not, lady; they say something of Lucca having fallen," returned
d'Orleans. "I have been escorting the Lady Graziosa to view the new
church--by the Duke's orders"; he added in a lower tone, "could I have
chosen my companion, it had not been she."
Valentine listened with downcast eyes, playing with the rubies at her
wrist. Her escort was grouped about her, and Costanza glanced aside at
her curling lips with some mistrust.
"The Lady Graziosa is happier and fair to-day," she whispered to her
companion, and Valentine overheard and smiled the more.
"And my brother, the Duke?" she asked.
"I have not seen the Duke all day," replied the Frenchman. "There is
talk of an embassy to the enemy--confusion and crowds----"
"You have been riding Milan to see the rejoicings?" interrupted
Valentine, and she raised her eyes to Graziosa once--the glance was not
pleasant--then she fell to playing with her bracelet again.
"Yes," said Graziosa innocently. "My lord bade me ride to the new
church."
She was very happy, and affection welled up in her tender heart, even
for the woman who had used her so cruelly--for she was Gian's sister.
With a timid gesture she held out her little hand to Valentine.
"Will you not ride back beside me?" she asked, pleadingly.
But Valentine ignored her hand and her request.
"Have you visited any other churches in your ride?" she asked.
"What other church in Milan should interest the Lady Graziosa?" asked
d'Orleans wearily, fearing to be sent back on some distasteful journey.
"I did not know--I thought there might be one--Santa Maria, close to the
western gate."
And Valentine looked straight at Graziosa, who paled beneath her tone.
"How should that interest me?" she faltered.
Costanza put her hand on Valentine's sleeve.
"Have a care," she whispered. "Not before them all, madama, for pity's
sake!"
But Visconti's sister took no heed; she gathered up her reins and
signed to her escort to move on.
"Of course," she said, "why should it interest thee?--there is nothing
there--it is only a small, mean church, where a poor, obscure traitor
lies on his bier." She looked around the startled faces with a bitter
scorn on her own. "Who has heard of him?--one Agnolo Vistarnini--killed
by the Duke's orders, killed by thy lover's orders, in the very hour
that ye betrayed him to him, Graziosa Vistarnini!"
She flung the words at her as if they had been knives, and if they had
been they could not have been more deadly. Without a word, her hand
catching at her throat, Graziosa sank from her horse, the scene in an
instant one of confusion.
"Dieu! what have you done!" cried d'Orleans, springing from the saddle
and raising Graziosa. "Who will answer for this?"
"She will not die of it," said Valentine, scornfully. "She will take
care to live--to be Duchess of Milan."
"Oh, shame! shame!" cried Costanza, and several echoed the cry.
"'Twas no gentle act," said d'Orleans, lifting Graziosa, "and heaven
save you now, Princess!"
"And our heads may have to pay for it," grumbled the officer who led
Graziosa's escort. "Men, see the Princess does not escape, or there will
no one of us live to save ourselves."
"Shame! shame!" said the Duke again, as Graziosa, white as death, was
laid in a litter. "You have done a mad thing!" And the whole fluttering
cavalcade whirled in startled confusion toward the palace.
Valentine looked after them, and there was no remorse in her face.
"You must answer to the Duke for this, madama," said the officer, "and
at once."
She turned her horse slowly, and at a quiet pace rode toward the
Visconti palace. Costanza began to weep.
"Nothing can save you now, mistress--why did you do it? Oh, why!"
"Count Conrad is in Milan!" was Valentine's answer to herself; and to
Costanza she said, coldly, "Do not fear for me. I am too valuable to be
meddled with. Even a Visconti would not dare to slay his sister before
the Frenchman's eyes."
They entered the courtyard in silence, the soldiers forming up close
around her. The cavalcade had ridden slowly, and there was no trace of
Graziosa's arrival. The palace seemed quiet. Valentine dismounted as
usual, and was mounting the entrance steps when de Lana advanced.
"I have a painful duty to discharge, Princess," he said. "You are my
prisoner."
Valentine went white: she had not expected this so swiftly.
"The Lady Graziosa is in danger of her life," continued de Lana.
"'Tis no fault of mine," said Valentine. "What do you want with me?"
Costanza clung to her, weeping loudly.
"Have done!" said the soldier, sternly. "Follow behind your lady. You
will follow me, Princess."
"Seeing I cannot help it," retorted Valentine, with flaming cheeks.
"Where is my brother? Where is the Duke d'Orleans?" She looked round
once; from somewhere there stepped forward two of de Lana's men and took
their places at her side. She moved up the stair, Costanza with her,
weeping with fear.
The corridors were empty, save for the soldiers at their posts. De Lana
opened the door of the Duke's apartments and stood aside for her to
enter, but Valentine shrank back.
"'Tis the Duke's orders," said de Lana, and he moved Costanza back. "You
will enter alone."
Then Valentine summoned up her courage, and when she had passed the
door, de Lana followed and stood beside it.
Visconti was at the table, behind him Giannotto, and at her entrance he
raised such a white, distorted face of fury, that Valentine quailed and
sank back against the wall.
"Ah!" said Visconti, "I have it in my mind to kill you, my sister. I
have it in my mind to give myself that pleasure--to kill you."
He rose as he spoke, and Giannotto drew farther away from him, glancing
at Valentine with a white amazement; the Duke was bordering on frenzy.
"Oh," cried Visconti again, "so you have no more wits than Tisio: you
think, because it suited me that you should wed with d'Orleans, that you
are free to flout me at your will!"
"Now be silent," breathed de Lana to Valentine, who leaned against the
wall beside him.
"You!" said Visconti, stopping before her. "You!--to meddle with me--let
me lift my finger and I can bring you lower than any slave in Milan!"
"Silence!" breathed de Lana again. But Valentine had too much of her
brother's own spirit. The madness of the Visconti rose into her eyes;
she straightened herself and moved forward defiantly.
"Aye, or you can kill me," she said, "as you have the others; but you
cannot make me humble before your wife out of the streets."
Visconti stood stock still, and Giannotto, glancing at de Lana, wondered
if she were to be murdered before their eyes.
Under the look in her brother's face Valentine stepped back again and
huddled herself against the wall: she saw Visconti draw his dagger--and
she hid her eyes--but motionless and without a sound.
"I have had enough of you," said Visconti, and strode down upon her in a
white madness of fury, forgetful of all else. "I will clear you from my
path--yes, as I did the others." Then he looked at de Lana, and
something in the soldier's face told him he would have to kill him
first.
"And as I will any who oppose me," he cried, furiously. "Am I not the
Duke of Milan? Take thy hand from thy sword, de Lana. Now we will settle
scores, Valentine." His hand was lifted, Giannotto turned his face away,
and de Lana had thrown himself forward, when a light knock on the door
close by broke the moment's silence, and Visconti's hand sank to his
side.
"Open!" he cried. "It is the messenger from the Lady Graziosa," and de
Lana, eagerly seizing the interruption, flung wide the door.
Visconti looked up and met Valentine's eyes, and she knew how near she
was to death.
"My lord," said de Lana, returning, "the Lady Graziosa hath
recovered--there is no fear of her life, my lord."
"Ah!" Visconti returned his dagger to its sheath, and Giannotto gave a
gasp of relief.
"Take my sister to her apartments, de Lana, and guard her well
there--and if any ask for her, say she is under my displeasure----"
The captain turned, glad to take her from the room alive.
"Will you see the messenger, my lord?"
"No," said Visconti, fiercely. "As long as she lives, what care I for
the messenger?"
The soldier seized Valentine's wrist and forced her, still reluctant,
from the room. She was conquered, not subdued.
"If Graziosa dies," said Visconti, turning to Giannotto, "she does not
live either. You have heard me say it.--She and her woman's venom!" he
continued, pacing the room furiously. "I should have swept her away
sooner--I would now but for the French, and the French shall not save
her the next time. He is a fool, Giannotto, who thinks that because a
woman is a prisoner she is powerless--let him remember her tongue."
"My lord, she may have thought the lady knew," faltered Giannotto.
"Silence!" cried Visconti. "She may have thought I wanted to give Isotta
d'Este her liberty! Ah, let her beware! Graziosa, too; why did she not
tell her that she lied? Had I not said he lived? Has she no spirit--no
dignity--to shame me by her silence and her moans!"
The secretary ventured on no reply. He fumbled with the parchments on
the table and drew one forward. Visconti's glance fell on it and his
rage calmed instantly; his eyes flashed with a changed expression.
"These are the terms we sent to Della Scala?" he asked, with a sudden
smile.
"Yes, my lord; terms I think that cannot fail."
The Duke sat silent a while, and the smile deepened to a laugh.
"I disturb myself for a woman's quarrels," he said at last, "and am on
the eve of winning Lombardy!"
"The Estes may already have detached themselves from Della Scala, my
lord," said the secretary.
"We will hope not. They will cling to the losing cause, and Mastino
della Scala, the stainless knight, himself shall betray them!" smiled
Visconti, with such cruel wickedness that Giannotto shrank.
"You stand so strong after your victories, my lord," he said, "you
might well crush them all by force."
"Only I do not choose that way of doing it," replied the Duke, still
smiling. "I will accomplish a bloodless victory. I will spend no
treasure, no time, and no men on this conquest, but I will win from it,
not alone Della Scala's towns, but his honor and his fame."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
UNEQUAL ODDS
For days the sun had risen and set in cloudless splendor, hanging
through the long summer day in a sapphire sky, flooding the beautiful
country with gold, making the air heavy with perfume and sense of
summer.
Mastino della Scala, standing at the door of his tent, hardly saw the
glory and the brightness, the splendor of the great chestnuts, all deep