The Honour of Savelli Part 23

"My sister-in-law, Giulia Farnese--Giulia Bella, is it not?" and Lucrezia touched her lightly on the arm.

"Oh, yes, Giulia Bella--and are you really going to become a hermit?"

"I might have had such thoughts until I came here," I said, "but I must now put them aside."

"Neatly turned, cavaliere--St. Armande himself could not have put it better--sit here, chevalier," and Lucrezia made room for St. Armande on her lounge.

At this moment a commotion at the entrance attracted our attention, and a man robed in black, followed by two others, walked up towards the Pope.

"Heavens!" said Lucrezia, "it is Cesare!" and a look that was not sisterly came over her face as she glanced at her brother, who moved slowly up the room, men falling away from each side of him, and greeting no one. He kept himself covered, and below his square velvet cap, I saw a resolute face, the mouth and chin, covered by a moustache and short beard, not so hidden, however, but that one could distinctly see against the dark hair on his face, the full red line of the lips, set in a habitual sneer. Bad as the whole brood of the Borgia were, this was the worst of them all. He was as far beyond them in infamy as they were beyond the rest of mankind in evil doing. The very room was hushed into silence as he entered, and I watched with more interest than I can tell, the stately figure of this wicked man, as he went up to meet his only less wicked father. It was their first meeting since the murder of Pierrot, and Alexander, who stood in dread of his son, began to tremble violently as he approached, looking this way and that, as if he would avoid him. At last they came together face to face, Cesare speaking no word, but lifting his cap with a low bow.

Alexander almost made a motion as if he was wringing his hands; but recovered himself with an effort, and kissed his son on the cheek.

"So do the devils kiss." Lucrezia spoke these words under her breath, and I turned sharply round and looked at her. Her eyes fell beneath my glance of inquiry, and to raise some conversation I addressed Giulia Bella.

"So that is the Duke of Valentinois?"

"Yes--and the man immediately behind him is Don Michelotto."

"The strangler."

"You use strong terms, sir," the eyes of the Farnese flashed fire, and Lucrezia added hurriedly--

"Yes, yes--you are right--the strangler."

"Hush, fool!" and Giulia Bella laid her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"See, they come this way--be cool!"

In fact, Cesare had turned from his father without either of them exchanging a word, and was coming directly towards us. On the way he pa.s.sed a group consisting of D'Amboise, Bayard, and the Cardinal of Strigonia. Valentinois stopped, and in his speechless way, held out his hand to Bayard, who merely bowed stiffly. Cesare's dark face whitened with rage, and dropping his hand to his side he walked straight on, and I could see that D'Amboise was expostulating with Bayard, and Strigonia openly laughing. This insult, however, had not added to Cesare's good temper; in fact, he came up to us as angry as a man could be, and after greeting his sister coldly, turned to St.

Armande and looked at him in silence.

"It is usual, signore," said Don Michelotto to the chevalier, "to stand in the presence of a prince."

"I was not aware that you were a prince, sir," replied St. Armande, entirely ignoring the Borgia.

"You can give this young gentleman a lesson in manners at your leisure," said Cesare. "By your leave, sir," and giving his hand to his sister, who took it pa.s.sively, he led her to another apartment, followed by Giulia Bella, who tapped a good-bye on St. Armande's arm with her closed fan.

Our group now consisted of Michelotto and myself standing, and St.

Armande still sitting comfortably in the lounge, evidently examining the contour of his small and shapely foot. As for me, although I knew St. Armande to be grossly in the wrong, I was delighted with the sudden spirit he had shown. The youngster had heart, after all, and there was the making of a man in him.

Michelotto behaved with great composure.

"I trust, signore--I do not know your name--that you will give me the chance of carrying out the duke's commands."

"My name is St. Armande," replied the chevalier; "and I am ready now, if you wish it."

"This is scarcely the place, signore; but the Vatican gardens are a few feet away. If you will meet me near the summer-house, in, say, half an hour from now, it would be a convenience. If we left together perhaps it would excite remark," and the Spaniard played with the inlaid hilt of his dagger.

"Very well."

Michelotto gave St. Armande a bow, made a slight inclination towards me, and strolled off. To all intents and purposes we might have been engaged in the most friendly of conversations.

"Well, cavaliere," said St. Armande looking up at me, "are you satisfied now?"

"I am satisfied, chevalier, that you are still too young to be trusted alone. If you wanted to pick a quarrel there were a hundred courses open to you: there are fifty other men with whom you might have crossed swords with no danger except to yourself, and you must needs insult Cesare, and get embroiled with a cut-throat and risk our plans.

Where is your prudence? But the wine is poured out now. You must drink."

His colour kept coming and going. "I mean to fight it out. I shall step out in ten minutes, and await him. See! they are all gathering round the tables. What with the wine and the dice, no one will take heed who goes or who comes--good-bye!" and he held out his hand to me.

"Nonsense, man--you are not going alone. You will want a second."

"But not you," he replied, "any one but you. You have work to do--not you, Savelli." His voice had almost a choke in it as he spoke.

"Come," I said, "put an end to this, or you will be run through the ribs. I am going with you."

He gave in with a feminine gesture of agreement.

"The business will not take long----"

"It will take long enough, signore, if you go as you are going," and Corte stood beside us. "Signore," he added, "I have overheard every word of the scene. Do not go as you value your lives. If you do go, go with a strong party."

"Diavolo!" I exclaimed, "an affair of the dagger then!"

St. Armande looked from one to another of us in surprise. "This is a friend, chevalier," I said, "who has done us good service," and turning to Corte, "but we must meet the man--how on earth are we to do so in any force?"

"Look round you," he made answer, "like master, like man--stroll out.

You have some swords at your back. Take them with you; but better not go at all. Ah! I see my new master, the Camulengo, looking towards me--be wise and do not go," and Corte moved off to where the Cardinal Ascanio Sforze was seated, surrounded by a little group of courtiers and priests.

"Who is that man?" asked St. Armande.

"I met him under circ.u.mstances too long to tell you here," I said, "some other day you may hear all about him. We will however take his advice, and meet Don Michelotto with an extra sword or so at our backs." So saying I took his arm, and we strolled through the apartments, where every one appeared to be giving full rein to his fancy. In fact the beginning of an orgie had set in. Alexander, apparently recovered from the shock of meeting with his son, was at the gaming table, playing heavily, with Giulia Bella at his side.

Bayard and Gonsalvo de Cordova were engaged in earnest converse with each other, and Strigonia and D'Amboise were cracking a flask of wine.

I heard D'Este say as we pa.s.sed him--"It is adieu to your eminence after to-night. I am a sheep fat enough for the shambles, and must look to my throat and my fleece."

"You would be wise Strigonia," D'Amboise made answer, "if the shield of France did not cover me, I would not be here another hour. But it is an ill thing to lose a comrade such as you."

"To better times," and the prelate who could only eat, drained his gla.s.s to the prelate who could both eat and think.

We now began to hurry a little, and found that Corte was right, for the soldiers who had lined the pa.s.sage inside the Bronze Gates had taken themselves off, and a considerable numbers of servants and followers were enjoying here the results of piratical raids on the supper tables.

Outside, however, everything was in order, for De Leyva was a thorough soldier. I found both the Spaniard and De Briconnet cursing their luck at being on the guards, and attacking a capon which they were washing down with copious draughts of Falernian. Their duties kept them outside, and it was a poor supper they were making, by the light of torches, seated together on the steps of the Vatican.

"What! out already, cavaliere?" asked De Briconnet. "Is the cardinal going?"

"No, but there is a little business," I answered as I called Jacopo.

"_Nom du diable!_ Can I not come?"

"It would be a relaxation," said De Leyva.