The Honour of Savelli Part 22

"I have seven good swords behind me, your eminence. The chevalier may or may not do well; but I could hardly refuse his request."

D'Amboise made no answer, and our interview came to a close. I would, however, add here that nothing ever came of the burning of the inn. No complaint was ever laid, as far as I could find out, and the matter might have been an every-day occurrence, so little attention did it excite. I of course did not know that affairs had reached to such a pitch of disorder in Rome, and lived in hourly expectation, notwithstanding the cardinal's speech, of having considerable worry over the revengeful zeal of Jacopo. I took care that no such thing was likely to occur again, and Master Jacopo was penitent, swearing he would never give me further cause for annoyance. At the _levee_, that morning, St. Armande was, as usual, beside me, and I whispered to him to hold himself in readiness, as the time for our business was at hand.

"I am glad of that," he answered, his face lighting up.

"I attend the cardinal to-day to the Vatican," I said, by way of continuing the conversation.

"There will be much going on this evening," he made reply. "The Florentine envoy has been here for the past two days, and the affair at the Vatican to-night is in his honour. Do you know that you have excited great curiosity in the hearts of the court ladies?"

"Indeed? It is not my way."

"Is it not? Well, Lucrezia expressed a particular desire to see you."

"I trust it may not lead to the Tiber, chevalier. The attentions of the Lady Lucrezia are a trifle dangerous."

His face became very grave.

"Be civil to her, nothing more," he whispered. "You are quite right.

Oh, how I hate that place!"--and he shivered a little.

"Well, we will soon be out of it."

"Please G.o.d!"

There was no one at the high table at dinner that day, both the cardinal and Bayard having gone to dine with Sforza at the Sforza Cesarini, quite an informal business, and none of the suite accompanied them.

The conversation at our table turned much on affairs, and as there were for once no guests, speech was very free.

"The fleur-de-lis will cover our tongues," said Le Clerc, "and to-day we may let them wag."

"Then how long is this truce to last?" asked De Briconnet, the captain of the cardinal's guard. "I am sick of this idleness here," he added.

"As for that, no man knows whether it is peace or war," replied Le Clerc. "Tremouille is chafing at Pa.s.signano, swearing that the game was ours if we had only let him march on after Fos...o...b..one, and he was right. Now Cesare has stamped out the Magione league, and the Borgia are as strong as ever."

"How came such a man as Roderigo Borgia ever to be made pope?" I asked.

Le Clerc laughed as he pa.s.sed on the Orvieto.

"When our Lord, the sainted Innocent, was called away, there were three favourites in the conclave. One was Giuliano della Rovere, the other Ascanio Sforza, and the third Roderigo Borgia. His eminence of St. Sabine's was our man, and the election would have been certain had not Borgia and Ascanio joined hands and the Milanese voted for Roderigo."

"I did not think Sforza would have been so self-sacrificing," said De Briconnet.

"There were compensations, Jacques," Le Clerc went on. "Four mule-loads of gold were given to Ascanio, he was made vice-chancellor of the church, and given Borgia's own palace, the Cesarini, where his eminence dines to-day. Immediately after the elections were made I was at the rota exchanging a few words with your uncle, the cardinal of St. Malo, and he told me that as soon as the result was known, Medici turned to Cardinal Cibo, and said, 'We are in the jaws of the wolf!

Heaven grant that he may not devour us!' As for Borgia he could do nothing but walk about, calling out, 'I am Pope, Pontiff, Vicar of Christ!'"

"I do not suppose it can last long," said De Briconnet.

"Heaven knows. He is close upon seventy-one and grows younger every day. He is as strong as he was thirty years ago. And there are few men who can sit a horse as he can, even now."

"That is true," I remarked, and gave the story of my meeting with the Borgia on the day of my arrival in Rome.

Shortly after this our dinner, where speech had been so free, broke up, and, finding out the hour at which the cardinal would require my attendance, I took my book on falconry, and repaired to the garden, intending to pa.s.s the afternoon in its perusal. I made for the Lemon Walk, and found a companion in Bran, who was wandering there in a disconsolate manner, evidently missing his master. I set myself down on a sheltered seat, Bran stretching out his length at my feet, his muzzle resting between his paws, and so we remained in quiet, the dog absolutely motionless, and I engaged in my book.

So an hour must have pa.s.sed, when Bran gave a low growl, and looking up I ran my eye up and down the walk, but could see nothing. I then followed the direction in which the dog was gazing, and through the leaves opposite to me, saw a stretch of green, terminating in a clump of three huge chestnuts. A further examination showed two figures standing in the shade of the trees, one of them was St. Armande, and the other, his secretary, the abbe. But what surprised me, was that the chevalier appeared to be overcome with some powerful emotion, for he was leaning with his arm against the trunk of the tree, against which his face was pressed, and his figure shook as if he were weeping. The abbe stood by him, with a look of compa.s.sion on his features, and was endeavouring to pacify him.

It was clear that I was looking at something I was not intended to see, and with a low, "Quiet, Bran," to the dog, which the well-trained beast instantly obeyed, I rose, and whistling a catch loudly, walked down the avenue, with my back towards St. Armande and the abbe, Bran stalking by my side. I did not look round, and of course could not tell what happened, but I could not help wondering what it was that affected St. Armande so strongly. It was hardly the place for the confessional. Yet it was no business of mine to pry into other people's affairs. So handing over Bran to a lackey of Bayard, I went up to my apartment, and attempted to resume my interest in my book.

This, however, was not possible, for in a few minutes I found myself with the volume in my lap, my eyes staring into vacancy, and thinking of St. Armande. I began to try and a.n.a.lyse my feelings towards him, but beyond that I was certain he had inspired me with a strong friendship I could go no further. It was this friendship that urged me to accede to his request to be allowed to share in my coming adventure, although I was well able to see that he was anything but fitted for a desperate deed. Still somehow, I could not find it in my heart to refuse him, although I felt I was doing an unwise thing. I consoled myself, or rather tried to console myself, with the reflection that he would have to take his chance like any other man of my troop, and if he fell, well, there was an end of it, and of him.

Yet I was not comfortable, and then, to give my thoughts another turn, I bent them on other matters, and it came to my mind that it was a little surprising I had not heard of D'Entrangues in Rome.

When Bayard told me of his pet.i.tion to the king, I had asked whether anything was known of D'Entrangues' movements, and he said he did not know. It was curious, too, how I appeared to have entirely mastered that mad longing for revenge, which at first held me. It was a direct answer, as it were, to my prayer, and, so thinking, I began to realise how close in reality a man is to the divine power, which he often, too often, thinks far from him. And a certain feeling of satisfaction came upon me at the thought of the strength I had gained by my victory over myself. Indeed, I felt sure, that if my enemy was in my power at the moment that I would not injure him, but let him go without harm.

In this manner, attempting to read, and trying to think, without very much success in either undertaking, I pa.s.sed my time until my lackey came to a.s.sist me to dress, in order to be ready to accompany the cardinal to the Vatican. After dressing, I descended the stairs, and mounting Castor, placed myself at the head of my men, and joined De Briconnet at the grand entrance of the palace. The captain of the cardinal's guard had his full force of thirty swords out, it being a reception night of some importance, and with great courtesy allowed me to place Jacopo and my six men in front of his troop, drawing his own horse alongside of mine, and discussing, with much cunning, of falconry, in which he was more than an adept.

We had to wait some little time for the cardinal, but at length he came, accompanied as usual by Bayard, and with him all the gentlemen of his suite including St. Armande. On reaching the foot of the stairs, D'Amboise enquired somewhat sharply for me; but changed his tone to one of pleasant greeting when he saw I was in waiting.

"St. Dennis!" he exclaimed, "I thought you were not coming after all."

We had but a few yards to ride, and our pa.s.sage along the Via Alessandrina to the Portone Bronse, took but a few minutes. As we rode up there, we kept the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza di S. Pietro to our left, and saw before us the walls of the new cathedral of St.

Peter, then about four or five feet high, the ruins of the old church still standing around it. At the time I speak of, nothing had been done for about fifty years towards advancing the work, begun by Nicholas V., and the great design, afterwards altered and put into execution by Giuliano della Rovere, when he became Pope as Julius II., was then in a skeleton form, looking more like the remains of some sacked shrine than the beginning of a new work. The fifty years of neglect having the effect of making the new work almost as ruinous as the old church founded by Constantine.

Although, as I have mentioned, there were to be great doings at the Vatican that evening, there was no crowd a.s.sembled in the Piazza of St. Peter. It was full of soldiers, but the people of Rome, who might have been expected to be there in numbers, to see the processions of n.o.bles and their followers, were conspicuous by their absence.

Men-at-arms there were in store, but no happy, jostling crowd of the commons, for a terror was on Rome, and men kept as far as possible from the Borgo. The piazza was, however, brilliantly lit up, and the body guards of the various notables were strictly confined to the places a.s.signed to them, order being maintained by about a thousand men of the Spanish guards of the Pope, under the immediate command of De Leyva. The light from the lamps was reflected back by the glittering arms of the men, and the various ensigns of the great houses were distinctly visible. The single column of Colonna, rose side by side with the eagle and griffin of Borghese, the six lilies of Farnese trembled in the wind, near Colleoni's two-headed lion, and a little in the background was drawn up a solid looking body of cavalry, over whom fluttered the standard of the Borgia; these were Cesare's own lambs, as he called them, veterans of many a hard fought field.

At the entrance steps we halted, and were met by two chamberlains, who, with their staffs of office in their hands, ushered us to the bronze gates, by which we were to enter the Vatican. We pa.s.sed through amidst a blare of trumpets, each side of the pa.s.sage being lined with pikemen, standing stiff and motionless as statues. Our way led to the Torre Borgia, the portion of the Vatican occupied by Alexander, and the distant strains of music caught our ears as we went on, and shortly entered the n.o.ble reception rooms, which were crowded with people.

The Pope himself stood at the extreme end of the apartment, surrounded by a brilliant group of ladies and gentlemen, and as we came up to make our duty, I had good opportunity of observing him. Alexander was fully seventy years of age, but so hale, hearty, and strong-looking, that he might have easily pa.s.sed for a man of middle age. He was dressed as a private gentleman, in Spanish costume, with high boots, a jewelled dagger at his side, and a smart velvet cap on his head. But the face itself struck me as remarkable to a degree. He was clean shaven, so that all the features were clearly discernible, the heavy sensual chin, the wide cruel mouth, surmounted by a nose almost Jewish in its curve, the retreating forehead bulging over the eyes, and the eyes themselves, in which there seemed to burn the fires of insatiable appet.i.te, and pa.s.sion without end; all these, combined together to make up a countenance which was a fitting mask for the evil soul within. I made my obeisance with the others, stifling with difficulty a sudden desire to fling aside the hand I touched, and walk out of the room.

I moved slightly aside, and watched the various groups as they wandered to and fro, or stood together conversing; and the hum of voices, the gay strains of music, and the brilliant dresses made up together a scene well worth the looking at.

The Florentine amba.s.sador was talking to the Cardinal of Santa Susanna, a few feet from me. I caught the tones of his voice, and as he turned round our eyes met. Machiavelli, for it was he, glanced at me as at a perfect stranger, and then, slightly adjusting his purple lined robe, moved slowly onwards with his companion.

"We mount yet higher, signore---_excelsior!_"

The words were breathed rather than whispered into my ear, and Corte stood beside me.

"_Excelsior!_" I repeated with a smile, "but are you not putting your head in the lion's mouth?"

He smiled back upon me, more of a snarl than a smile. "The beast is gorged now. He will not think of me--see, there is some one coming your way--adieu!"

He turned and pa.s.sed into the groups, and St. Armande touched my arm.

"You are to be presented to the Lady Lucrezia," he said, and the next moment I found myself bowing over the hand of one of the most beautiful, and certainly the most infamous woman of her age. She was barely twenty-three; had already wedded three husbands, and was to become a wife again, and marry Alfonso of Ferrara. She was seated in a low lounge, and as I came up she extended her hand to me with a charming smile. Standing before her, looking at her large limpid eyes, at the small red bow of the lips, and the clear cut features set in a ma.s.s of red gold hair, I could not imagine that the stories I had heard were true. It could not be that this fair young woman who was before me had smilingly committed crimes of nameless horror. I would not believe it.

"So, cavaliere, you have come to the court at last! I thought you were never going to do us that honour."

"His Eminence of Strigonia said you meant to take the vows," and a lady, who was leaning over Lucrezia's seat, laughed as she put in these words. I recognised the peculiar unmusical laugh I had heart at the gate St. Paul, and glanced at her with some interest.