CHAPTER XVI.

FRIEND OR FOE.

For the next few days the routine of my life was exactly the same, the

morning attendance at the cardinal's levee, the daily dinner in

public, and long rides with Castor in the afternoons, in which I was

sometimes accompanied by St. Armande; but this was not always

possible, as he was closely attached to D'Amboise's person. D'Amboise

frequently asked me to accompany him to the Vatican; but up to now I

had begged permission to decline his invitation, on the plea that,

with the business before me, it would perhaps be well for me to

live as much in retreat as possible. The cardinal said, with that

good-tempered laugh of his, which entirely belied his astute scheming

nature, that as I was as yet ignorant of my task, I need not be so

careful. I replied to his eminence, that it was just because I was in

the dark, that I was so circumspect, and he was then good enough to

agree with me. I was, however, naturally anxious to see something of

the Vatican, and one of my reasons for refusing, besides that of

prudence, was that I was not sufficiently well equipped. This,

however, with the funds at my disposal, was soon mended, but from some

cause or other, I had up to now not gone. Jacopo was not so successful

as he anticipated he would be, in raising his men. It was, above all,

necessary to have them trustworthy, and it was difficult to get men of

this class for a merely temporary employment such as I offered. At

last the matter was arranged, and by the end of the week I mustered a

body of six stout fellows, all of them fairly well mounted, and what

was better, all of them trained soldiers. I had them lodged near the

Ripetta, and the cardinal's table afforded them a free dinner, of

which they were not slow to take advantage. In order to keep them

employed, I took them out with me every afternoon, dismissing them

upon my return, with orders to join the nightly escort of the cardinal

and Bayard, to and from the Vatican. I saw a good deal of Bayard, and

at times expressed myself with impatience at being kept to cool my

heels. He told me he was not at liberty to mention the details of the

business on which I was to be employed, and advised me to bide my time

with a patient heart. Amongst other matters we spoke of was the murder

of Pierrot, and Bayard told me that Cesare Borgia had left Rome the

next day without seeing his father, the Pope, and that he was crushing

out completely the stand made against him by my old chief Vitelli of

Citta del Castello, and others.

I took Bayard's advice and held patience by the tail, although I

longed for work to begin. My men were in good fettle. They had enough

work to keep them out of mischief, the pay was good, they had

sufficient leisure for amusement, and there was therefore no

grumbling.

I used to sup alone in my rooms, occasionally asking St. Armande to

join me; and after supper we diced together for an hour or so, for

very small points. He was an infant at the game, and I taught him a

good deal, so much so, that after a little practice, for he was very

quick with his wrist, he mastered my favourite throw, and one evening

after returning from the Vatican, he knocked me up in my rooms, and

flung on the table a bag of gold pieces.

"Three hundred of them, cavaliere!" he said, "I won them from Fabrizio

Colonna, who is looking green with rage. If your purse is running

short, they are at your service. Ha! I see a flask of Orvieto--may I?"

and he poured himself out a goblet, at which he began to sip, in

apparent defiance of his vow.

"The devil!" I exclaimed, "but you are flying at high stakes,

chevalier. Your Picard estates must be broad. Thanks all the same for

your offer, but my purse is as full as I want it at present."

He leaned back in his chair, with a pink flush on his delicate

features.

"I meant no offence, cavaliere; but what is the use of money unless

one can share it with a friend?"

"There was no offence taken, St. Armande," I replied, "and if you will

take none, I would like to have my say at you."

He looped one finger in his golden moustache, and showed his even

teeth in his smile, as he said, "Speak on."

"Then, chevalier, it seems to me a thousand pities that a young man

like you should waste your time here, as you appear to be doing. I

understood you to say you had never seen a sword drawn in earnest as

yet--and your moustache is grown! Take my advice. Play no more for

gold pieces with Colonna or anyone else. Mount your horse, and join

Tremouille at once."

"Ah! that is good," he said; "and why does the grave and reverend

Cavaliere Donati waste his time here, hanging at the heels of a

churchman, and moping o' nights like an owl on a ruined wall, instead

of stirring the times himself with the point of his sword?"

With any other I would have been annoyed; with the youth before me I

was slightly amused, and at the same time a trifle surprised. Hitherto

he had appeared so shy and reserved, and now, of a sudden, he had

thrown this off, and had put on an air which I had not noticed before,

but which became him vastly. I set it down to the fact that perhaps he

was slightly warmed with wine, having apparently absolved himself from

his vow; although of course I did not appear to notice this last, as

he was in a manner my guest. I therefore made reply.

"My reasons for my action, chevalier, are good, and when the time

comes I promise you I shall not be found sleeping."

The gentle reproof in my words seemed to bring him back to his old

self, for by the light of the candles I observed him flush scarlet,

and that curious look which recalled a strange resemblance to some one

I knew, but could not remember, came over his features. I began to

relent as I saw his confusion, almost as soon as I had spoken; and

added, "I may say that the time is not far distant--that it is a

matter of days only."

"Take me with you."

He asked this almost in a tone of entreaty, keeping his eyes away from

me, however, and nervously twisting at his moustache.

"And your secretary, as you call him, the abbe?"

"Oh, he will come too, and we could confess to him."

I hesitated for a second, and then made answer.

"Very well. Only you must be prepared to start at a moment's notice,

and there will probably be hard riding and hard fighting, and there is

yet another thing."

"What is that?"

"You must come as a simple volunteer, and must make no enquiry as to

what the business is on which I am engaged. I risk my life for my own

purposes; if you wish to do likewise you are welcome to join me, on

the condition I have just stated."

"I accept with pleasure."

"Then that is settled, and I have a new comrade."

"Hurrah!" and he raised his glass to his lips.

After that he retired, it being late. I saw him across the courtyard

as far as his apartments, and then returning to my rooms,

unconsciously took the chair St. Armande had vacated. The goblet of

wine he had filled was before me, and I idly lifted it in my hand. It

was barely touched. In fact he could but have tasted a few drops only.

Like lightning a suspicion of treachery came on me. The man had been

pretending to drink. With what object? I could not make out. Was the

offer of the money a blind? Perhaps so, and if then? I had been a fool

to agree to his joining me, with that sour-looking abbe of his. Yes, I

had been a fool, but it was lucky I discovered my own folly in time. I

should keep my eyes on this silken diplomat, and if necessary pick a

quarrel with him, and run him through. Somehow I did not like the idea

of this, however; but determined to get rid of him in one way or the

other. I would allow nothing to stand between me and the road back to

honour. So musing I sat for a half-hour or so, and was startled by

Jacopo's sudden entry, so lost was I in thought. He came and stood,

bolt upright, next to my chair, without saying a word. I knew from

this that he had some request to make, some favour to ask, as

otherwise he would not have hesitated to make play with his tongue at

once.

"What is it Jacopo?"

He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and then replied--

"Your excellency, I want leave."

"Leave! What for? You are not going to be married, are you?"

"Heaven and the saints forbid, excellency. No--no--it is not that, it

is only leave for the day I want, and also for our men."

"The devil! What are you going to do?"

"Only a little dinner, excellency, which I am giving."

"And wasting those crowns you got the other day. Well, that is your

affair, not mine. Yes, you can have the leave."

"A hundred thanks, excellency."

"Mind you, there must be no brawling, no trouble."

"Excellency."

"Well, good night, and remember what I say. Here, you might remove

this wine-cup as you go."

"Good-night, signore," and Jacopo, lifting the goblet, went out. The

night being fairly warm, I kept my door open, and as he passed into

the portico, I saw him drain the contents of the goblet with a gulp,

and heard him draw his lips together with a smack of approval, and

march off to his quarters, chuckling at something or other.

The following afternoon I rode out with Bayard and half-a-dozen

others. It was a hawking party, and there was a long gallop to our

point of operation, which was to begin a little way beyond Ponte

Molle. In a short time we started a noble heron, and Bayard flinging

his peregrine into the air, we rode after the birds. It was a glorious

ride, and Castor and Pollux far outstripped the others, so much so

that when we drew rein beside the stricken heron, and Bayard slipped

the hood on to his hawk, our companions were not in sight. This,

however, troubled us little, and turning rein we made backwards. On

our way back I seized the opportunity to mention to Bayard that St.

Armande had volunteered to aid me in my task, and that I had accepted

his offer.

"It will do him good," he said; "he seems a noble youth, who has been

tied too long to apron-strings."

"Do you think so?" I said; "he strikes me as being effeminate to a

degree--and yet I cannot help liking him."

"He has a wonderful pure mind," said Bayard; "the boy, for he is no

less, is as innocent as a child."

"The Vatican will not improve him then, especially if he plays for

gold crowns with Colonna."

"Plays for gold crowns!" exclaimed Bayard; "you are surely mistaken,

cavaliere."

"Did he not do so last night, my lord? I understood he won three

hundred off Fabrizio?"

"Impossible," said Bayard, "I was at the Vatican last night, and the

party in which Colonna was playing consisted of Strigonia, Monsignore

Florido, our Lord the Pope, and Colonna himself--no more. St. Armande

was standing hard at hand for some little time, but never took a

wager. In fact, he passed most of the evening with Giulia Bella,

thrumming on a lute, much to the annoyance of his holiness. I should

say it would be well for him to quit Rome."

"Then I am wrong," I said; "yes, I fancy it would be well for him to

quit Rome."

By this time the others came up, and we said no more. As we went back

to Rome, I dropped a little behind, reflecting on what Bayard had told

me. It was certain that St. Armande had lied to me, and I began to

feel sure he had done this not for my good. In short, it seemed to me

that this innocent looking boy, with his shy retiring manners and

apparent want of knowledge of the world, was nothing more or less than

an accomplished actor. Then again he was a Frenchman, and how came he,

obviously fresh from France, to become an agent of the Medici

plotters, for so I put him down to be? There were the letters from

Madame de la Tremouille, his introductions were unimpeachable, the

cardinal believed in him--the whole thing was contradictory. Above

all, there was my strong personal liking for St. Armande. In his

presence I never felt that secret warning which all men feel when they

are with an enemy. I have never known it fail with me, and with St.

Armande there was no such warning, no such silent signal which goes

straight from soul to soul. On the contrary, I felt he was almost more

than friendly towards me, and I felt, in my turn towards him, despite

our short acquaintance, very nearly the same protective feeling that

one has towards a defenceless child. As may be imagined, I was in no

very comfortable frame of mind about this, and rode back silently,

revolving the point. When we reached the palace, almost the first

person I met was St. Armande, and as I dismounted he came up to me

with a cordial greeting and asked--

"Well, cavaliere, good sport I trust?"

"Very," I replied shortly, and then looked him straight in the face as

I added, "Do you intend to give the Colonna his revenge to-night?"

Something in my tone caught him, he met my eyes for a moment, then

dropped his gaze, and looked towards the ground. We stood thus before

each other for a little time before he replied, and his voice was

almost inaudible.

"Perhaps--I am not sure," he added with an effort.

I was standing, holding Castor's reins; but as he spoke I handed the

horse over to a groom, and, linking my arm in St. Armande's, said

loudly, and with a tone of affected gaiety:

"You missed a great ride, chevalier--come take a turn with me in the

garden."

He yielded passively, and in a few steps we had crossed the courtyard

and were in a secluded portion of the palace gardens that was called

the Lemon Walk. This I may add was subsequently improved out of

existence by the architect, in the course of completion of the palace

and grounds. When we reached this spot I unslipped my arm, and turning

round faced St. Armande, having resolved to end my suspicions.

"See here, chevalier," I said, "I am playing for heavy stakes, I am

walking on dangerous ground, and must know where I put my feet; will

you answer a plain question, are you friend or foe?"

He looked round him in a helpless sort of way, his colour coming and

going, but said nothing. Was it possible the man was a coward?

"If you do not reply," I said, "I will take the risk, and treat you as

an enemy, do you hear? you lied to me when you said last night you had

played at the Vatican with Colonna--now draw." I pulled out my weapon,

and stood before him, expecting every instant to see his rapier in his

hands; but he stood absolutely still, his head hanging down.

"Man," I said, "have you not heard? Am I to think you a coward as well

as a liar?"

"How dare you say that!" he burst out. "You--you of all men--Oh! what

am I saying! Yes, I did not play with Colonna; but I thought you were

hard pressed for money, and--and invented the fiction, thinking that

perhaps----"

"That perhaps I would accept your winnings over the gambling table,

rather than the offer of a friend. You do me much honour, chevalier."

"You wrong me, Savelli,--nay, start not. I know your name and story,

and, before heaven, I say I am your friend."

"You know me!"

"Yes, and am working for you; come, put by your sword. Look at me! Do

I look like an enemy?"

He had recovered himself, and met my gaze fearlessly. Where could I

have seen that face before? I drew my hand over my forehead as if to

sweep the cobwebs from my memory, but with no avail.

"Well," he went on, with a smile, "do I look like an enemy? If I do,

your sword is ready. Strike now, it will be a quick riddance, come!"

I put back my sword with a snap.

"I do not understand, but I accept your explanation."

He held out his hand frankly.

"That is right, and you will still let me be your comrade?"

I took his grasp.

"Yes, if you wish it."

We walked back together in silence, and on reaching the courtyard St.

Armande said,

"I am afraid I have fallen much in your esteem."

"My esteem, chevalier, is at present of no value to man or woman."

"Do you think so?" he said, and then rapidly, "Adieu for the present;

remember, I hold you to your word that you think me a friend."

I made no answer, and he ran lightly up the steps of the principal

entrance.

I supped that evening for a change with the gentlemen of the suite;

but St. Armande was not there, and there were a few free remarks made

concerning the manner in which he was supposed to have been received

at the Vatican by Giulia Orsini, and Lucrezia Borgia.

"If it goes on like this," said Le Clerc, "we will have to drag the

Tiber for his body, and say masses for his soul, unless he puts the

seas between himself and the Borgia."

"He never struck me as a man to run after the ladies," I said.

"No," replied the abbe, "but it is the other way. You would stand no

chance against him, cavalier, for all your long moustache--a thousand

thanks," and the genial Le Clerc seized the flagon of Orvieto I passed

to him, and filled his goblet.

After this the conversation changed, and I shortly retired to my

apartments, and dismissing my lackey, sat down to read a book on

falconry that the cardinal had lent me. I had not been occupied thus

for an hour when the door opened, and Jacopo cautiously peeped in. He

withdrew his head on catching my eye, and I heard him shuffling

outside.

"Come in."

"Excellency," and the sound of further shuffling, but no Jacopo. I

lost patience at this, and fearing at the same time that there had

been trouble, repeated my order to come in sharply. This had the

desired effect; but as soon as my henchman appeared in view I made

certain there had been a brawl. He was very red in the face, and from

under the helmet he wore I could see a white bandage.

"What the devil does this mean, Jacopo?" I asked sternly.

"I have come to report, excellency."

"You hardly appear in a fit state to do so."

"Perfectly fit, excellency," and Jacopo drew himself up to attention

and saluted.

"Is the matter of importance? For if not, you had better come

to-morrow."

"Yes, your excellency--matter of importance. By your worship's leave,

as you are aware, I gave a dinner to-day, and we had----"

"Never mind what you had; to the point."

"Boiled meat with sause, sausages with garlic, a _risotto alla

Milanese_----"

"I do not care what you had, go on fool."

"I am going on, excellency. Where was I--a _risotto_ did I say? And

bread made with yeast. And for drink, signore----"

"I doubt not you had store of that, Jacopo."

"But a dozen flagons or so of wine, your worship--all rosso."

"Jacopo--you will be good enough to retire at once."

"I am retiring, excellency; but my report."

"Will do for to-morrow."

"As your worship desires; but we have burnt the inn."

"What!"

"The inn, where we rested the day of our arrival in Rome, your

worship. What with one thing and another, the landlord footed up his

bill to four crowns. And I said to my friends, 'What! Are honest

soldiers to pay like this?' Whereat there was trouble, excellency; but

we came off best."

I rose without a word, and seizing Jacopo by the neck, ejected him

from the room, with, I am sorry to say, very considerable violence.

Cursing myself for my folly in having been so generous, I banged the

door after him, and returned to my book. I could not, however, read,

for my mind was full of the consequences that might arise from this

mad freak of my followers, and I determined to seek out the cardinal

the next day, and obtain his permission to move out of Rome to some

quieter spot, and there await his instructions. Amidst it all,

however, I could not help being pleased at the thought that

retributive justice had overtaken the scoundrel tavern-keeper, the

memory of whose bed made me shudder. I had no doubt that Jacopo was

speaking the truth, and that, even as he spoke, the flames were

sputtering merrily above that den of thieves.