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

passed 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, passed, 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

passed 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 cock 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 masses 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 god 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.

As I went on, I began to feel nervous in spite of myself, as to what

the results of my interview with the cardinal would be, and whether it

would end in the further employment, which the Secretary had

distinctly said it would. I had no reason to doubt, however, and it

was with a hopeful mind that I trotted up the Lungo Tavere, and was

brought to a halt by a gruesome spectacle at Tor di Nona. There was a

crowd assembled, watching an execution, and Jacopo, sidling up to me,

remarked as he pointed to a body swinging in the air--

"What room there would be for Messer Braccio Fortebraccio here,

signore--see that pear, of the kind he loves, growing there? _Barta!_

But there is another one----" and, even as he spoke, another wretch

was hoisted into the air, and then another and another. I did not stop

to look; but Jacopo stayed behind, overtaking me at a gallop as I

reached the Piazza di S. Angelo.

"It is the doctor of St. John's on the Lateran, and three of his

bravos, signore. It is said he was accustomed to spend his evenings in

cutting purses and throats; but, as ill luck would have it, meddled

with one of Giulia Bella's friends, and no money could buy an

indulgence for that."

"If true he is well served, and there are others of his kidney whom we

could spare with equal pleasure."

"Mine host of our inn, excellency, for instance. But the gibbet at Tor

di Nona does not always bear fruit like this. I mind early one----"

At this moment, however, I set spurs to my horse and lost the rest,

being afraid that Jacopo intended to retail to me the story of the old

men and women who had been hanged as a morning's diversion by Cesare

Borgia, and as he had twice delivered himself of this to me as we sat

up last night, I was in no mood to hear it again for the third time.

Near the statues of Peter and Paul, on the bridge, was a guard-house,

occupied at the time by a detachment of Spanish infantry, and to these

men I addressed myself, inquiring where the cardinal of Rouen was

staying. I was told, at once, that his eminence was lodging in the new

palace of Cardinal Corneto, opposite the Scorsa Cavalli, and that my

best way was to turn to the left on crossing the bridge, and then to

the right at the junction of the Borgo San Spirito and the Borgo San

Michele.

Bestowing my thanks and a largesse on the men for their kindness, I

went on at a gallop, congratulating myself on the ease with which the

difficulty was solved, and in a few minutes had crossed the Piazza

Scorsa Cavalli, and was before the residence of the cardinal. At the

time I speak of, it was not quite finished, but still habitable, and

had been rented by Monsignore d'Amboise, as being conveniently near

the Vatican.

On entering the courtyard, I dismounted, and giving my horse to Jacopo

to hold, ascended the steps, and boldly announced myself as an urgent

messenger who had business with his eminence. I was ushered by a page

into a reception room, and early as the hour was, there were a

considerable number of people already in attendance, awaiting the

morning levee. Here I was left to cool my heels for a little time, the

spruce page informing me that the cardinal was engaged at breakfast,

but that he would tell him of my coming, and asked my name. I

hesitated for a moment, but decided to keep the name of Donati which I

had assumed, and gave that, adding that I was the bearer of an urgent

despatch to the cardinal, which I must deliver with my own hands. The

young man then left me, as I have said, and taking a good position

near the entrance door to the adjoining room, I leaned back against

the wall, and awaited my summons. The reception room was of noble

proportions, oblong in shape, the ceiling being supported by two

pillars of veined marble, which, although they diminished the size of

the chamber, had a good effect. The marble flooring, arranged in a

patchwork of black and white, was bare of all furniture, and as the

room gradually filled, the constant moving of feet, the sound of which

rang sharply on the stone, made it appear as if a lot of masons'

hammers were at work. I let my eyes wander over the groups as they

stood or moved about, wondering, if by chance I should see anyone I

knew; but they were all strangers to me, mostly Frenchmen, with a fair

sprinkling of priests amongst them. They were one and all trying to

jostle past each other, so as to gain as close a position as possible

to the entrance door, near to which I stood; and as I watched this

with some little amusement, I heard a whisper in my ear, and glancing

round beheld a man standing near me in a doctor's robe, holding a

heavily bound missal in his hand. I saw in a moment it was Corte, and

he whispered in a low voice:

"Well met again, signore, remember your promise."

"I do, and the promise I made to the juggler will not be forgotten to

the doctor. Is it wise, however, if you wish to remain unknown, for us

to be seen speaking here?"

"Not very, but I wanted a word with you. Do not look round at present,

but near the pillar to your right are two men, one dressed half in

cloth of gold, and they are more interested in you than you think. I

overheard a snatch of conversation--they are moving this way. By your

leave, signore," raising his voice, he attempted to push by me, and

catching the hint his last words had thrown out, I answered loudly,

"First come, first served, learned doctor, and you must bide your

turn."

"I am a man of peace, and therefore yield." Corte moved off, and I was

free to look around me. I saw that Corte's little piece of acting, to

which I had risen, was due to the fact that the man in the cloth of

gold and his companion were edging nearer to us, and at the time were

barely six feet off. Besting my hand lightly on the hilt of my sword I

looked the two full in the face, but could make nothing of them. The

one who wore a jerkin of gold cloth met my look for an instant, and

then dropped his eyes, a faint flush rising to his cheek. I saw that

he was a young man of a singularly handsome countenance. A short

neatly curled moustache fell over his upper lip and mouth, but there

was no sign of a beard on the small and rounded chin, which was

cleanly shaven. On his right cheek he wore a black patch, placed as if

to hide the scar of a wound, although his complexion was as delicate

as if the sun had never touched it. In his ears he wore earrings, an

affectation of female adornment hateful to me, and the fingers of his

small right hand, which he held ungloved, were covered with rings. The

hilt of his rapier too, peeping from under the folds of his gay cloak,

was crested with jewels, and altogether it seemed as if I could have

nothing to fear from this painted lily, who looked more fitted to

thrum a lute in a lady's bower than have aught to do with the stir of

the times. I therefore loosed my glance from him with some contempt,

and turned to his companion, who was robed as an abbe, and evidently

in a sour middle age. His features were bolder than those of his

companion, but distinctly those of the canaille, and there was nothing

in them in any way remarkable.

Nevertheless I thought it well to be on the watch, knowing that a

dagger thrust is easily sent home, and there was the certainty, too,

that the fact of my coming to Rome with a letter was known to the

Medici plotters in Florence, and evidently it was their object to

frustrate its delivery. What puzzled me, however, was that the look

the young man directed to me was not unfriendly, and it struck me that

if I could only hear his voice it might give me some clue to a

recognition. The two had come a little between me and the door, and I

was just about to contest the place with a view of forcing their hands

if possible, when the door was flung open and the same page who had

taken my name appeared and called out--

"Signor Donati, his eminence awaits you."

As the door opened there was a general movement towards it. But the

cry of the page in a moment arrested the crowd, turning the look of

anticipation on the faces of all to one of disappointment, and a loud

murmuring arose against my being so favored. I lost not a second in

stepping forward, and in doing so purposely brushed against the young

man near to me, turning round as I did so with a somewhat brusque "By

your leave, sir." I fully expected that he would resent my rudeness

and make some speech, but he merely bowed his head with a courteous

inclination, showing a set of small and even teeth as he smiled under

his blonde moustache. I was a little put out by the failure of my

plan, but the next instant the door closed behind me, and at any rate

the letter to the cardinal was safe, and my task was as good as

accomplished.

I followed the page therefore with an equal mind, and lifting a

curtain, which fell in heavy folds at the end of the passage, where a

couple of gorgeous lackeys stood, he called out "Messer Donati," and

then stepped aside to let me pass. I entered the room with a firm

step, and saw before me a large, but plainly-furnished apartment. In a

lounge chair near a small table, on which was set out a light repast,

was a man whom I at once guessed to be the cardinal. He wore a purple

robe, and the barettina or small skull cap, which covered the tonsure

on his head, allowed his short grey hair, which curled naturally, to

be seen around it. Under the cap I saw a square resolute face with

keen black eyes, and a full but kindly mouth. He was just putting down

a glass of vernaccia as I came in, and I caught the purple glitter of

the sapphire ring he wore in token of his rank, as he set down the

glass. He was not alone, for, leaning against the window and caressing

the head of an enormous wolf-hound, was a splendidly-dressed cavalier,

who looked up as I came in, and I saw at once it was Bayard. I kept my

eyes away from him, however, and advancing straight towards the

cardinal, placed the letter before him without a word.

D'Amboise looked at the seals carefully, and then taking a small

jade-hilted knife from the table, ripped open the envelope, and ran

his eye quickly over the letter. As he did so not a muscle of his face

moved to show how the contents stirred him, and when he had finished

he held it out at arm's length, saying--

"My dear Bayard, what do you think of this?"

Bayard made a step forward to take the letter, and in doing this our

eyes met, and he frankly held out his hand. I could hardly believe it

when I saw it extended towards me. My breath came thick and fast, and

the whole room swam around. The man was the soul of honour, the

noblest knight in Christendom; he had seen my trial, nay, he had been

one of my judges, and he offered me his hand! He must hold me

guiltless, I felt. "My lord!" I rather gasped than spoke as I took his

grasp, but seeing my emotion, he put in--

"Sit down, cavaliere. His eminence will forgive me for disposing of a

seat in his house--we are more than old friends." He placed his hand

on my shoulder and forced me to a seat, whilst D'Amboise, still

holding the letter in his hand, looked at us with a puzzled air.

"St. Dennis!" he exclaimed. "What does this mean, Bayard?"

"It means, your eminence, that this is a gallant gentleman who has

been most basely used; but pardon me--the letter."

He took the letter from the cardinal's hands and read it quickly,

whilst I sat still, with emotions in my heart I cannot describe, and

D'Amboise glanced from one to another with a half-amused, half-curious

look on his keen face. Bayard finished his perusal in a few seconds,

and laying the letter on the table said, "Nothing could be better. We

should be prepared for action, although there is yet plenty of time. I

wonder how in the world the Florentine got wind of this?"

"Oh, he has long ears. We shall, however, want a good sword, and if

all that the secretary writes is true, we have got it in your friend

the Cavaliere Donati. In fact Machiavelli suggests him for the task."

"My name, your eminence, is not Donati," I here put in, "but Savelli.

When misfortune overtook me, I changed my name; but I see no reason

for hiding the truth from you."

"Quite right," said D'Amboise, "but Savelli! Is this the Savelli of

the Arezzo affair, Bayard?"

Bayard nodded assent, and the cardinal continued, turning to me.

"Then, sir, I have heard your story, and you have more friends than

you think. But of this, later on. Were you not at Fornovo?"

"Yes," I replied, wondering what the cardinal's speech meant.

"_Ciel!_ I made out your patent of St. Lazare myself. What could have

made Tremouille act as he did I do not know, and he is as obstinate as

a mule. Bayard, I know all about this gentleman, and your testimony to

his worth convinces me that what I have heard is correct. I could

never believe the story myself."

"My lords, you may doubt; but the world----"

"Will yet come round to you, cavaliere," said Bayard, and added, "Your

eminence could not have a better sword for your purpose than that of

M. di Savelli here, provided he will accept the task."

"I will accept anything from you, my lords," I said.

"Good," said D'Amboise, "now let me tell you how you stand. Acting

doubtless in the advice of friends, Madame d'Entrangues wrote to me a

full account of the affair, which ended so badly for you, and

explained fully her husband's treachery. This she begged me to forward

to Tremouille with a view of getting your sentence altered. As you

have just been made aware, I have some knowledge of you, and it was a

thousand pities to see a sword, which had served France well, turned

away. I laid the matter before the duke, but he replied to say he

could take no action. The duchess, who is my cousin, has also used her

influence but to no purpose, for Tremouille stirs his porridge with

his own hand, and does not care if it burn or not, as long as he stirs

it himself. We could get the king's pardon for you, and as a last

resource that might be done, for I like as little to be thwarted as

His Grace of Tremouille; but that will raise you up a strong enemy in

the duke, and it will not kill the story--you see."

"I do, your eminence. How can I thank you?"

"I do not want your thanks, cavaliere; but France wants your sword.

Your only way is to do a signal service for France, and after this the

matter is easy. Tremouille is generous, and it would want but a little

pressure to make him rescind his sentence apparently of his own

accord, provided you could do what I have said. Strange how fate

works!"

I remained silent, and D'Amboise went on: "Such a service it is

possible for you to do, and I will put it in your way. I cannot at

present give you details as they have to be discussed with the

secretary, who will shortly be in Rome. This much, however, I can tell

you; get together a few good men, you doubtless can lay your hands on

them, and be ready. You will no doubt want funds, but they will be

arranged for. In the meantime you may consider yourself as attached to

my suite--a moment," he continued as I was about to pour out my

thanks, "you had better for the present call yourself Donati. I know

something of the history of Roman families, and your name would not

smell well to the Chigi and Colonna, and remember the Tiber is very

deep."

He touched a small handbell as he concluded, and the page appeared.

"Defaure," he said, "send the Abbe Le Clere and my gentlemen to me;

after that you will please inform the steward that apartments are to

be prepared at once for M. Donati, who is here." The page bowed and

vanished, and as I rose to await the coming of the suite, the cardinal

went on with a smile, "Messieurs in the ante-room are doubtless

getting impatient; we must make haste to receive them." As he said

these words a grey-haired priest entered, bearing on a cushion the

scarlet hat of a prince of the church, and following him, half-a-dozen

gentlemen, and grooms of the chamber. The cardinal rose, and leaning

on the arm of Bayard, walked slowly towards the door. Le Clerc bore

the hat immediately before him, and the rest of us formed a queue

behind. As we came to the door it was flung open by two lackeys in a

blue and silver livery, who shouted out--

"My Lord Cardinal--way--way."

We passed into the room where the people were arranged in two rows,

and D'Amboise walked down the line, bowing to one, exchanging a word

or two with another, until he came opposite Corte. The doctor dropped

to his knee, and presenting his book, solicited the cardinal's

influence to obtain for him an audience with the Pope, to whom he

desired to dedicate his work.

"_Perte!_" said the cardinal. "Why not go to his eminence of

Strigonia--books are more in his line than--well, we shall see--we

shall see."

He passed on, and the next group that caught his eye was that of the

young stranger in the cloth of gold and his companion.

As the cardinal approached, the young man drew a letter from his vest,

and presented it with a low bow.

D'Amboise tore it open and glanced over the contents. "_Diable!_" he

exclaimed, "from Madame de la Tremouille herself. See here, Bayard,

the Duchess writes, introducing her friend the Chevalier St.

Armande--I know not the house."

"We are of Picardy, your eminence."

The voice was singularly sweet and soft, and a strange and undefinable

resemblance in its tones to some other voice I had heard struck me,

but I could not fix upon anything.

"The Duchess says you are anxious to serve; would it not have been

easier to send you to the Duke?"

St. Armande looked round with a heightened colour, and then replied,

speaking in the same low, soft tones:

"If your eminence will kindly read the letter, you will perceive that

my desire was to see something of the court of Rome before joining the

duke."

D'Amboise glanced at the letter again, and an odd smile passed over

his face.

"I see," he added, "the postscript--My dear Chevalier, Madame de la

Tremouille's requests are commands to me. If you will do me the honour

of joining my suite, I shall be delighted. Permit me to introduce you

to the Cavaliere Donati, who is also a new friend."

I bowed and extended my hand, and St. Armande placed his within mine.

It was small and delicate as a woman's, and as I clasped it for a

moment, it felt as chill and cold as death.