The Shame of Motley Part 35

His fear of Cesare's coming was put by for the moment in his fierce l.u.s.t to be avenged upon me who had betrayed him and the officers who had turned against him. Madonna sank back once more in her despair. The little spark that she had so bravely fanned to life had been quenched almost as soon as it had shown itself.

"Now, Federigo," said Ramiro grimly, "I am waiting."

The executioner resumed his work, and in an instant I stood stripped of my brigandine. As the fellow led me, unresisting, to the torture--for what resistance could have availed me now?--I tried to pray for strength to endure what was to come. I was done with life; for some portion of an hour I must go through the cruellest of agonies; and then, when it pleased G.o.d in His mercy that I should swoon, it would be to wake no more in this world. For they would bear out my unconscious body, and hang it by the neck from that black beam they called Ramiro del' Orca's flagstaff.

I cast a last glance at Madonna. She had fallen on her knees, and with folded hands was praying intently, none heeding her.

Federigo halted me beneath the pulleys, and his horrid hands grew busy adjusting the ropes to my wrists.

And then, when the last ray of hope had faded, but before the executioner had completed his hideous task, a trumpet-blast, winding a challenge to the gates of the Castle of Cesena, suddenly rang out upon the evening air, and startled us all by its sudden and imperious note.

CHAPTER XXI. AVE CAESAR!

For just an instant I allowed myself to be tortured by the hope that a miracle had happened, and here was Cesare Borgia come a good eight hours before it was possible for Mariani to have fetched him from Faenza. The same doubt may have crossed Ramiro's mind, for he changed colour and sprang to the door to bawl an order forbidding his men to lower the bridge.

But he was too late. Before he was answered by his followers, we heard the creaking of the hinges and the rattle of the running chains, ending in a thud that told us the drawbridge had dropped across the moat.

Then came the loud continuous thunder of many hoofs upon its timbers.

Paralysed by fear Ramiro stood where he had halted, turning his eyes wildly in this direction and in that, but never moving one way or the other.

It must be Cesare, I swore to myself. Who else could ride to Cessna with such numbers? But then, if it was Cesare, it could not be that he had seen Mariani, for he could not have ridden from Faenza. Madonna had risen too, and with a white face and straining eyes she was looking towards the door.

And then our doubts were at last ended. There was a jangle of spurs and the fall of feet, and through the open door stepped a straight, martial figure in a doublet of deep crimson velvet, trimmed with costly lynx furs and slashed with satin in the sleeves and shoulder-puffs; jewels gleamed in the ma.s.sive chain across his breast and at the marroquin girdle that carried his bronze-hilted sword; his hose was of red silk, and his great black boots were armed with golden spurs. But to crown all this very regal splendour was the beautiful, pale, cold face of Cesare Borgia, from out of which two black eyes flashed and played like sword-points on the company.

Behind him surged a press of mercenaries, in steel, their weapons naked in their hands, so that no doubt was left of the character of this visit.

Collecting himself, and bethinking him that after all, he had best dissemble a good countenance; Ramiro advanced respectfully to meet his overlord. But ere he had taken three steps the Duke stayed him.

"Stand where you are, traitor," was the imperious command. "I'll trust you no nearer to my person." And to emphasise his words he raised his gloved left hand, which had been resting on his sword-hilt, and in which I now observed that he held a paper.

Whether Ramiro recognised it, or whether it was that the mere sight of a paper reminded him of the letter which on my testimony should be in Cesare's keeping, or whether again the word "traitor" with which Cesare branded him drove the iron deeper into his soul, I cannot say; but to this I can testify: that he turned a livid green, and stood there before his formidable master in an att.i.tude so stricken as to have aroused pity for any man less a villain than was he.

And now Cesare's eye, travelling round, alighted on Madonna Paola, standing back in the shadows to which she had instinctively withdrawn at his coming. At sight of her he recoiled a pace, deeming, no doubt, that it was an apparition stood before him. Then he looked again, and being a man whose mind was above puerile superst.i.tions, he a.s.sured himself that by what miracle the thing was wrought, the figure before him was the living body of Madonna Paola Sforza di Santafior. He swept the velvet cap with its jewelled plume from off his auburn locks, and bowed low before her.

"In G.o.d's name, Madonna, how are you come to life again, and how do I find you here of all places?"

She made no ado about enlightening him.

"That villain," said she, and her finger pointed straight and firmly at Ramiro, "put a sleeping-potion in my wine on the last night he dined with us at Pesaro, and when all thought me dead he came to the Church of San Domenico with his men to carry off my sleeping body. He would have succeeded in his fell design but that Lazzaro Biancomonte there, whom you have stayed him in the act of torturing to death, was beforehand and saved me from his clutches for a time. This morning at Cattolica his searching sbirri discovered me and brought me hither, where I have been for the past three hours, and where, but for your Excellency's timely arrival, I shudder to think of the indignities I might have suffered."

"I thank you, Madonna, for this clear succinctness," answered Cesare coldly, as was his habit. They say he was a pa.s.sionate man, and such indeed I do believe him to have been; but even in the hottest frenzy of rage, outwardly he was ever the same--icily cold and tranquil. And this, no doubt, was the thing that made him terrible.

"Presently, Madonna," he pursued, "I shall ask you to tell me how it chanced that, having saved you, Messer Biancomonte did not bear you to your brother's house. But first I have business with my Governor of Cesena--a score which is rendered, if possible, heavier than it already stood by this thing that you have told me."

"My lord," cried out Ramiro, finding his tongue at last, "Madonna has misinformed you. I know nothing of who administered the sleeping-potion.

Certainly it was not I. I heard a rumour that her body had been stolen, and--"

"Silence!" Cesare commanded sternly. "Did I question you, dog?"

His beautiful, terrible eyes fastened upon Ramiro in a glance that defied the man to answer him. Cowed, like a hound at sight of the whip, Ramiro whimpered into silence.

Cesare waved his hand in his direction, half-turning to the men-at-arms behind him.

"Take and disarm him," was his pa.s.sionless command. And while they were doing his bidding, he turned to me and ordered the executioner beside me to unbind my hands and set me at liberty.

"I owe you a heavy debt, Messer Biancomonte," he said, without any warmth, even now that his voice was laden with a message of grat.i.tude.

"It shall be discharged. It is thanks to your daring and resource that the seneschal Mariani was able to bring me this letter, this piece of culminating proof against Ramiro del' Orca. It is fortunate for you that Mariani was not put to it to ride to Faenza to find me, or else I am afraid we had not reached Cesena in time to save your life. I met him some leagues this side of Faenza, as I was on my way to Sinigaglia."

He turned abruptly to Ramiro.

"In this letter which Vitelli wrote you," said he, "it is suggested that there are others in the conspiracy. Tell me now, who are those others?

See that you answer me with truth, for I shall compel proofs from you of such accusations as you may make."

Ramiro looked at him with eyes rendered dull by agony. He moistened his lips with his tongue, and turning his head towards his men--

"Wine," he gasped, from very force of habit. "A cup of wine!"

"Let it be supplied him," said Cesare coldly, and we all stood waiting while a servant filled him a cup. Ramiro gulped the wine avidly, never pausing until the goblet was empty.

"Now," said Cesare, who had been watching him, "will it please you to answer my question?"

"My lord," said Ramiro, revived and strengthened in spirit by the draught, "I must ask your Excellency to be a little plainer with me.

To what conspiracy is it that you refer? I know of none. What is this letter which you say Vitelli wrote me? I take it you refer to the Lord of Citta di Castello. But I can recall no letters pa.s.sing between us. My acquaintance with him is of the slightest."

Cesare looked at him a second.

"Approach," he curtly bade him, and Ramiro came forward, one of the Borgia halberdiers on either side of him, each holding him by an arm.

The Duke thrust the letter under his eyes. "Have you never seen that before?"

Ramiro looked at it a moment, and his attempt at dissembling bewilderment was a ludicrous thing to witness.

"Never," he said brazenly at last.

Cesare folded the letter and slipped it into the breast of his doublet.

From his girdle he took a second paper. He turned from Ramiro.

"Don Miguel," he called.

From behind his men-at-arms a tall man, all dressed in black, stood forward. It was Cesare's Spanish captain, one whose name was as well known and as well-dreaded in Italy as Cesare's own. The Duke held out to him the paper that he had produced.

"You heard the question that I asked Messer del' Orca?" he inquired.

"I heard, Ill.u.s.trious," answered Miguel, with a bow.

"See that you obtain me an answer to it, as well as an account of the other matters that I have noted on this list--concerning the misappropriation of stores, the retention of taxes illicitly levied, and the wanton cruelty towards my good citizens of Cesena. Put him to the question without delay, and record me his replies. The implements are yonder."