The Honour of Savelli Part 16

"It is said that Gandia was murdered by the Cardinal Ascanio Sforza."

"Indeed no, your excellency! I saw the deed done. It was in this way: the Duke and his brother Cesare, then Cardinal of Valencia, supped at the house of their mother, the Lady Vannozza. After supper they must needs walk home together; I was the Duke's sole attendant, but Cesare was accompanied by his cut-throat Michelotto and half-a-dozen others.

On the way some mention was made of Donna Sancia, Don Giuffre's wife, and the brothers came to blows. The Cardinal stabbed the Duke with his own hand, and he gave a great cry and fell down dead. Seeing it was no use trying to help a dead man, and being in no hurry to trouble St.

Peter myself, I knocked down the strangler Michelotto, and making a run for it, escaped with a whole skin. The body of the Duke was flung into the Tiber, and was discovered by a charcoal monger of the Ripetta, whom Cesare hanged at Tor di Nona, as a reward for his intelligence. They buried the Duke, as you know, signore, in Santa Maria del Popolo--poor man!"

"And you mean to say that this was never known to the Pope?"

"I never said anything about that, your worship; a secret cannot be kept by half-a-dozen, and I dare swear our Lord knows all about it or else the Cardinal Ascanio would hardly be in the Cesarini as he is.

These things, however, must not be spoken of in Rome. Men's tongues should be weighted with lead when the Borgia's name crops up."

We had by this time come opposite the Monte Testaccio, that curious mound made of old pottery, which lies towards the river, south-west of the Ostian Gate, and so engrossed were we in our talk, that we did not observe a large party of riders of both s.e.xes, with an escort of men-at-arms, coming at a hand gallop from our right, straight in our direction. Our attention was however sharply drawn to the fact by the cry of an equerry who was riding well in advance of the others, and this man shouted:

"The road! The road! Way for His Holiness! Way! Way!"

We drew off at once to the side, Jacopo dismounting and sinking to his knees. I however contented myself with uncovering, and watching with no little astonishment the party as they came up. They were evidently returning from hawking, and at the head of the clump of riders were two men in full Turkish costume.

"Who are those Turks?" I asked Jacopo, and the knave still kneeling, and holding his hands up in supplication, answered hurriedly--

"One is the Soldan Djem, excellency--O Lord, I trust we may not be hanged as an afternoon's amus.e.m.e.nt--the other, the fair one, old Alexander VI. himself--O Lord! What cursed luck! Kneel, excellency; it is our only chance."

"Tush!" I replied, and remembered at once that the brother of Bajazet, the Grand Turk, was a hostage in Rome, practically a prisoner in the hands of Alexander, a legacy he had inherited from the Cibo, and which brought him forty thousand ducats annually. I could understand Djem in Eastern costume, but the Pope masquerading in broad delight as a Moor!

It was as wonderful as it was disgusting to me. And then the remembrance of Corte's daughter came to my mind, and as they approached, I could hardly refrain from making a dash to rid the world of the monster who sat in St. Peter's chair. I barely saluted as they pa.s.sed, but Jacopo roared out for a blessing, and the papal hand airily cast a benediction at us. Alexander was apparently in a high good-humour, for, turning in his saddle, he made some joking remark to a lady who rode a trifle behind him, whereat she laughed loudly, a harsh unmusical laugh, and glanced at me with a half-amused air, from under her heavy lashes as she went by. The rest of the party, spurring, laughing and chattering were a few yards behind; and as they clattered on to the road, Djem, giving a wild shout of _Allah_!

_Allah!_ threw the reins on the neck of his barb, and galloped through the gate at full speed, followed by Alexander and the rest of the riders, who urging their mounts to a racing pace, and, both men and women, yelling in imitation of the Moor, vanished through the gate after him in a whirlwind of dust. So quickly did all this happen, that I had hardly time to observe the faces of those who pa.s.sed me, and indeed, so astonished was I, that I had scarce room in my mind for any other feeling. I had of course heard wild tales of the Vatican, and strange and horrible stories of the Borgia himself, indeed there was one crime that should have brought down G.o.d's lightning on the man, for all that he was the Vicar of Christ; but I never for one moment conceived it possible that Alexander could so far forget his place as to appear in public robed as a heathen, and gallop through the streets of Rome like a drunken madman.

When they had gone, Jacopo arose from his knees, and dusting them with his hands whilst he looked up at me, said: "_Corpo di Bacco!_ But I gave up all for lost. I vow a candle to St. Mary of--I forget where--but to the shrine nearest to the place we dine, for this lucky escape."

"Come, sirrah!" I said, a little annoyed, "mount. There never was any danger."

"Your excellency is pleased to say so," he replied, swinging himself into the saddle, "but if you saw two old men and a half-dozen old women strung up for merely blocking the way, as I did at Tor di Nona, perhaps your worship would think as I do."

I made no reply, allowing Jacopo the run of his tongue to relieve his feelings, and we went on slowly until we reached the gate. Here I spoke, "As you know Rome better than I do, Jacopo, you had best lead the way; but I want to pa.s.s by the two houses of my family before we make for the Strangers' Quarters, where we must find a lodging for the night."

"Very well, your worship!" and Jacopo drew a little to the front.

"There they go," he said, shading his eyes with his hands, and turning to the left, where a dun cloud of dust on the Via della Marmorata marked the progress of the Borgia. "The best way, signore," he continued, "is over the hill; we will get a view from there, and then pa.s.sing by the places you want to see, make for a quiet hostel I know of in the Strangers' Quarters."

Following him, we rode up the Aventine, until we reached the old wall of Servius Tullius, here we stopped to observe the view. To the west and south-west we could see the green of the Campagna merging into the distant grey of the Roman Maremma, whilst beyond that a clear blue line, below the flush of the coming sunset, marked the sea. Beneath us lay the Tiber and the Island, the yellow water of the river stirred into ripples by the breeze, and looking from the distance like hammered bra.s.s. Beyond the Tiber rose Monte Gianicolo, behind which the top of the Vatican Hill was just visible. To the north the view was a little shut in by the Palatine and the church of St. Prisca above us, and far off rose the cone of Soratte. North-east and east lay the Palatine, the Esquiline, with the campaniles of Santa Maria Maggiore and San Pietro in Vincoli. Over Monte Coelio we could see the heights of the Sabine Hills, and running our eyes along the Appian Way, we could almost descry the Alban Lake, the mountains being distinctly visible. We stayed for a few moments drinking in the view, and then going onwards, turned north-west, past St. Prisca, and began the descent, by a winding way, held in by vineyards. Coming down we caught a glimpse of the three churches of the Aventine, namely S.

Sabina, S. Maria Aventina, and St. Alessio, which was held by the monastery of St. Jerome, whose walls rose hard at hand. A look to the right showed us the Circus Maximus, above which towered a huge obelisk surrounded by four lions. At length we came to the Vicola di San Sabina, and at the corner of the street rose the grey walls and square tower of the castle of the Savelli. I drew rein, and looked at it with a bitter heart, and a sigh I could not control escaped me, as I saw the breeze catch and spread to the wind the silken folds of the standard of the Chigi, who bore quartered on their shield the star of the Savelli and the tree of De la Rovere. It flaunted there, in all the insolent pomp of a new house, whose moneybags were full, and the sight of it was enough for me. Jacopo must have caught the look on my face, for he said kindly--

"Who knows, excellency--luck may turn."

Well meant as the words were, they jarred on me, and without replying I moved on, silently raising my sword to the salute, as I pa.s.sed the grim gates from which my ancestors held the road as far as the river, and almost held Rome itself.

As we went past the Island, I did not even raise my head to see the Theatre of Marcellus, within which lay another and the oldest of our family houses, having come to us through Pierleone towards the close of the eleventh century.

Jacopo was for going straight on past the monastery of the Aracoeli, on the Capitol; but unluckily I discovered that my horse had cast a shoe, and this was a matter not to be neglected. So we turned to the right, and entered the Campo Vaccino, formerly the Forum of Rome. It being now sunset, here were collected hundreds of oxen and buffaloes, and from the height of Monte Caprino we could hear the bleating of the herds of goats which were pastured thereon, and the tinkling of their bells as they moved slowly down towards their shelter for the night. A hundred fires were blazing cheerfully, and served to dissipate the blue vapour which began to hang over the place. Round these fires were groups of people, mostly countrymen, who seemed in the best of spirits, as they listened to songs, or watched numbers of their party, who danced merrily to the tune of a pipe. Hard by were a number of sheds, used by mechanics, and the blaze, which showed a forge in work, soon attracting our attention, we made there at once, and had the horse attended to.

Whilst the smith was beating out a shoe, I sat down on a rough bench, my horse being fastened to a wooden post, and Jacopo holding his nag by the bridle paced up and down, occasionally stamping his feet on the ground to free them, as he said, from the ants. In other words he was suffering slightly from cramp. To my right was a large crowd, evidently enjoying a show of jugglery, and from their cries of wonderment and pleasure, they seemed to be having their money's worth.

So I rose and elbowed my way to a good place, unfortunately only in time to see the end of the affair. The juggler was robed in a doctor's gown, and after performing a trick, he distributed nostrums for various ailments, free of payment. Imagine my surprise, in recognising in him no other than Mathew Corte; and as I came up, he placed a tambourine in his little dog's mouth, and bade him carry it round for subscriptions. Coppers were freely flung in, and as the little animal stopped before me, I dropped in a florin, and stooped to pat its head.

As I rose I caught Corte's eye, and saw he knew me, but as he made no sign I stayed quiet. Collecting his money, the doctor bowed his thanks, and began packing up the instruments of his trade. I went back to my seat, and watched the smith at work on my horse, thinking that Corte must have somehow come into funds, and wondering how he had managed it. After a little time I felt a touch on my shoulder, and turning round saw him beside me. I invited him to a seat, inquiring after his health.

"It grows better day by day," he answered, "now that my work is begun.

And you, signore?"

"I can say the same," I answered; "I grow better day by day, now that my work is begun."

"There is a favour I ask, Messer Donati," he went on.

"What is it?"

"It is this, and do not think me ungrateful. I am here playing a part.

We will meet again, perhaps, under different surroundings. All I ask is that if we do, you will make no sign of recognition, nor mention to anyone that you know me."

"As you wish, Messer Corte."

"A hundred thanks, and yet another thing--short reckonings make long friends," and he pressed into my palm two gold pieces, the amount of the sum I had left with him the night his daughter died. I had no desire to take them back, not knowing how Corte stood; but he a.s.sured me he would be deeply offended if I did not, and that he was well provided with the sinews of war. Where he had got them I know not, and of course I had no option but to receive back the money I had given him, though I did this most unwillingly. When this was over, he pressed my hand once more, and, wishing me good night, hurried off.

By this time the blacksmith had completed his task, and we delayed no longer, but went off at once. It was fortunate that Jacopo knew Rome as he did, or we might have been hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of streets, some of them in total ruin, some of them entirely uninhabited, for at the time so hideous was the misgovernment of the city, that all who could do so had fled from Rome, and those who remained could not have exceeded thirty thousand in number, of whom at least ten thousand, men and women, were beings who had lost all claim to the respect of mankind, and were capable of almost any crime. These are hard words, but true, nor indeed have I ever seen a place where all that was bad was so shamelessly exposed, as in Rome when Roderigo Borgia was Pope. At length we reached the Strangers' Quarters, but Jacopo's hostel was not to be found, and after searching for it in vain, we were content to pull up before the door of a small inn built on the lower slope of Monte Pincio, barely a bow-shot from S. Trinita de' Monte, the church erected by Charles of France in 1495, and a little beyond the convent of the Dames du Sacre Coeur. I cannot say that the hostel was an inviting-looking place; in fact it was little better than one of the common _osterie_ or wineshops with which Rome abounded; but it was too late to pick and choose, and for the night at least, I determined to stay here. Our first duty was to attend to the horses, which we had stabled in stalls, immediately below the room to be occupied by me, Jacopo having to put up with lodgings in the stables for the night. After the beasts had been fed and groomed, I set myself to a plain dinner, washed down with the contents of a straw-covered _mezzo fiasco_ of Frascati. Jacopo waited on me, and when I was done, contentedly devoured the remainder of the _manzo_ or boiled beef, and cooled his throat with a bottle of Marino, which I presented to him. Whilst he was thus engaged, I went down and had another look at the horses, and as I patted their necks, and they whinnied at me, I thought regretfully of the good beast who lay dead on the Leghorn road, and wondered what had become of Brico, of whom, notwithstanding his villainy, I could hardly think of without smiling.

It was in truth strange that a man, so arrant a poltroon at heart, should desert his natural occupation of a lackey, to play the bravo, and pose as a soldier. How he had ever even obtained the rank of ancient was a matter of surprise and wonder to me. At length I dismissed him from my mind, and coming back, found Jacopo at the end of his meal and his bottle. It was late enough now, and giving him warning to sleep lightly, and to arouse me at once if necessity arose, for I liked not the look of the place, I climbed up the ladder leading to the loft above the stables, which was to serve me as a chamber for the night.

CHAPTER XIV.

GEORGE OF AMBOISE.

I should mention that before retiring I had obtained from the landlord a good-sized lanthorn, which I had carefully filled with oil, and trimmed under my own eyes. Holding this in my hand I ascended the ladder leading to the chamber, or rather loft I was to occupy, and on gaining my point I placed it on the floor, near the opening by which the ladder led into the room, and so directed the light that its glare pa.s.sed downwards, and up to the entrance of the stables, leaving the sides of the stables in darkness, although my own room was bright enough. This was a precautionary measure, as it would discover any one attempting to come in by the stable entrance, which had no door, and would enable me at any time to see to rush down quickly to the aid of Jacopo, should he need it. I debated a short while as to whether I should undress for the night; but so little did I like the looks of the place, which was more like a house of call for bravos than anything I had seen, that I did nothing beyond removing my boots, and flinging myself as I was on the vile truckle-bed in the room, I placed my drawn sword by my side, and sought to sleep, struggling resolutely to get this, despite the legions of inhabitants the bed contained, who with one accord sallied forth to feast upon me. But sleep I was determined to have, as I had work for to-morrow, and knowing Jacopo to own sharp eyes and quick ears felt no scruple about getting my rest, determining however, to make it up the next day to my knave for his vigil, which I was sure would be faithfully kept. Finally, despite the attacks of my enemies, I dropped off into a light slumber, which lasted for two or three hours, when I was startled by hearing a shrill whistle, the clash of swords, the kicking and plunging of the horses, and Jacopo's voice shouting out my name. I woke up at once, with all my wits about me, and on the instant ran down the ladder, sword in hand, parrying more by accident than design, a cut that was made at me by some one as I descended.

As I touched ground, two men darted out of the door, and ran across the half-ruined yard in front of the stables. A third, whom I recognised as Jacopo, was about to follow, but I held him back by the shoulder, having no mind to run risks around dark corners whilst I had my letter to deliver. Jacopo yielded to me very unwillingly, and in answer to my hurried inquiry, gave me an account of the affair which had been as brief as it was noisy.

"When your worship retired," said he, "leaving the lanthorn to so to conveniently light up the stable entrance, I had another look at the horses, and then settled myself down on that heap of straw yonder, my back to the wall, and my sword in my right hand. So an hour, or may be two, pa.s.sed, and then I heard voices outside, and some one swearing at the light. Oh ho! says I to myself, there's a night-hawk about, and I remained on the alert, not thinking it worth while to give tongue then. After a while the voices dropped away--and, excellency, I am sorry, but I must have slipped off into a doze, and beshrew me! if I did not dream I was aboard that cursed ship again, and being made to play pea-in-the-drum once more. I therefore made haste to awaken, and as I opened my eyes heard a crackling noise outside. I rose slowly and crept towards the entrance, and just as I reached within three feet of it a handful of pebbles was thrown in, and one of the horses started a bit. The stones were clearly flung from outside to see if any one was awake; but of course I made no sign, and the next minute two men appeared at the open entrance. I gave a whistle to rouse your honour, and went at them at once--and your excellency knows the rest. I think however I touched one--see there!"

He held the point of his blade to the light, and placed the end of his finger on a stain on the sword.

"Three inches at least," he exclaimed, and with a satisfied air, stooped down to clean his finger on the straw at his feet. I thanked the good fellow for his zeal and the fidelity he had shown.

"As for that, excellency," he said, "there is no need to praise me, for I expect to be made a cavaliere when your worship wins back the lordships of the Savelli!"

"You are brave enough for a cavaliere," I laughed, "the point however for you at present is sleep. Go up to my room and get what you can. I have done for to-night, and will watch the horses. It was after them that our visitors came."

But to this he would not consent on any account, nor was I so anxious to go back to that bed, so bringing down the light from above, we pa.s.sed the rest of the night close to the horses. In the intervals of dozing Jacopo related to me, twice over, in the minutest detail, the story of the hanging of the two old men and six old women which he had seen at Tor di Nona, and finally sank off into sleep. I did not make any attempt to arouse him, and kept on the watch myself until the lanthorn burned with a sickly glare, and the crowing of a c.o.c.k told us the morning was begun. In a few minutes it was light enough to see, and Jacopo rising, shook himself like a dog, and stepping up to the lanthorn extinguished it; after which, with much whistling, he set himself to water the animals, give them their morning feed, and groom them.

Leaving him thus engaged, I strolled out into the courtyard, where there was already a figure or two moving, and stepping through a gap in the ruined wall, climbed up a portion of the slope of Monte Pincio, following a narrow lane, on each side of which was a half-deserted garden, and bending my steps to where, from amidst a clump of trees, I could hear the song of a _caponera d'edera_ or blackcap, who was in full tune. Attracted by the music of the bird, I went on until I heard the plashing of water, and found myself at the basin of a deserted fountain, which was hemmed in with vines and creepers, and from which a thin stream of water was pouring, and bubbling down the hillside in the direction of S. Trinita di Monte. The basin was made of grey stone, cracked with age in many places, and from these fissures sprouted ma.s.ses of white serpyllum, the flowers in full bloom. In the centre of the basin was a much damaged figure of Ceres, and from her horn a stream of water fell with a melodious splashing, which, mingled with the song of the bird, had a pleasing effect upon my ear. I took advantage of the solitude of the spot to enjoy the luxury of a bath, and when I had dressed again, climbed a few feet higher, and facing round ran my eye idly over the view. Through the grey mist rising over the houses and vineyards, the Tiber lay, like a yellow snake at rest; one could see no motion of the waters. Near the Ripetta, long spirals of dark smoke curling up to the sky marked the quarters of the charcoal-burners, and the sunrise, which was behind me, cast a glory on the colossal statue of the archangel Michael, where it stood on the gloomy keep of St. Angelo, like a triumphant G.o.d alighting upon earth.

A dark rolling mist, bright at the top with the sunlight, blue-grey beneath, covered the city below me; but I could make out the octagonal dome of the hospital of San Spirito, the vast walls of the Vatican, then in course of construction, and the dark stretch of cork trees that filled the Valle dell' Inferno, beyond the Vatican hill. Monte Mario was all alight, and I could distinctly make out the Villa Mellini on its summit. There were landmarks that even a stranger, such as myself, who had the barest knowledge of the place, could not miss; and as I watched the heaving mist below me, I saw a sudden flash from the bastion of St. Angelo, and a moment after the boom of the morning gun reached my ears. I did not wait to observe more of the scene, but retraced my steps to the albergo, where I found that Jacopo had ordered a little table to be put out into the portico, and on this my breakfast was set. As I attacked this, Jacopo asked the order of the day, and I informed him that when he had breakfasted we should settle with the host and seek other lodgings, after I had attended to the business I had with Monsignore d'Amboise.

My henchman was also anxious to know if I meant to take any steps with regard to the attempt at robbery last night. I was well enough inclined, but determined to let the matter rest until my business was done, and for the present said I would remain content with the satisfaction that we had saved our steeds and throats. By the time I finished breakfast, Jacopo, who had already taken a meal, had saddled the horses, and was holding them ready for our departure. I summoned mine host, but at first could obtain no view of him. Finally on my threat to depart without settling my score, he appeared with his arm bound up in a sling. As he was unwounded the evening before, I made no doubt but that he was one of the two who had visited us last night, but said nothing, merely remarking, as I paid my account, that the love of horseflesh frequently brought people into trouble. He did not seem to appreciate the remark, and scowled at me, at which I bade him begone, and to thank his stars that his house was not pulled about his ears. He did not attempt any reply, but slunk off, and inwardly resolving to clear out this nest of scorpions from Rome at the first chance, I rode out of the gate, followed by Jacopo, and we directed our way towards the Ponte S. Angelo. I had not the least idea where his eminence of Rouen was staying; but made certain it would be somewhere in the Borgo, and that once I had reached the papal quarter, I should find no difficulty in my search for D'Amboise, and in delivering to him Machiavelli's letter.