CHAPTER XIX.

EXIT THE ANCIENT BRICO.

I had gained my point without waste of words or time, but it was to be

my way or not at all. My lady was in dire peril. Against this could I

for a moment weigh any thought of myself? What cared I whether France,

Spain, or the Borgia ruled in Italy? What mattered it to me whether

one crafty statesman held the reins of power, or another outdid him in

craft and filched away his bone? My lady was in danger, and my honour

might rot, and the Most Christian, the Most Catholic, and Most Holy

wolves might tear each other's throats out before I would move a

finger, take one step, until she was free. If I had to pull down

Baglioni's hold with my hands, I would free her. If a hair of her head

was injured I should take such vengeance as man never heard of, and

then--my foot caught in the carpeting of the passage, I tripped up and

fell heavily, the shock sending stars before my eyes.

"Too much haste, cavaliere," and a hand helped me to rise. As I gained

my feet I saw Machiavelli beside me.

"I followed you at once," he said, "but you went so fast, I had missed

you but for that lucky trip. A word more--if you free her, take her to

the convent of St. Jerome, two miles north-west of Magione--the abbess

will do the rest. I will see to that."

"Very well. God grant I succeed!"

"Amen to that," and Machiavelli took my hand. "Adieu, cavaliere, once

again, I must go back to his eminence, we have a point or two to

discuss yet, but no more Falernian. _Corpo di Bacco!_ I grow cold when

I think of our escape."

"Good-bye, your excellency," and we parted.

I went on with a little more care, and being a trifle cooled by my

fall, was able to think better. By the time I reached my apartments I

had decided on my route. I should leave by the Porta del Popolo, keep

on the right bank of the river as far as Borghetto, there cross the

Tiber, and on to Perugia in a straight line by Narni and Todi. It was

close on three and thirty leagues; but I did not mean to spare

horseflesh. As I reached the entrance which led to my rooms, I found

Jacopo and my men ready, and Castor whinnied a glad welcome, pawing at

the air with his forefoot in his impatience. St. Armande and the abbe,

already mounted and attended by a couple of men, were a little to the

right.

"I will not keep you a moment, chevalier," I called out as I passed

him, and running up the stairs to my room, began to dress rapidly.

Jacopo attended me, and as he handed me my sword, pointed to the open

window.

"A fair night for a long ride, excellency!"

"Yes, the moon stands well--my cloak--quick," and we descended the

stairs.

"All ready, Jacopo?"

"Your excellency."

"Steady, Castor," and I swung into the saddle.

There was the jingle of bit chains, the clank of steel scabbards, the

ring of iron-shod hoofs on the pavement, and with St. Armande by my

side and my troop behind me, I left the Palazzo Corneto.

To avoid risk of stoppage I did not go down by the Alessandrina to the

Ponte di San Angelo, but determined to cross at the Ripetta.

Therefore, crossing the Borgi di San Angelo, we went northwards by the

V. d. Tre Papazzi, up the Via Cancellieri, and then turning to the

right, rode up the Via Crescenzio. To our right, as we rode, the moon

hung over San Angelo and the dark outlines of the gloomy stronghold

loomed like a vast shadow of evil above us. In front of us lay the

Tiber, and the long line of fires of the charcoal-burners. The latter

overhung by a blue cloud of smoke, into which the forked flames leaped

and danced. At the bridge we were stopped by the guard, but the

safe-conduct set us free, and we crossed at a slow pace. Above the

hollow beat of the horses' hoofs, I heard the waters churning around

the piers, and looking over the side, saw the grey river as it hummed

past below me, flecked with white foam-tipped waves, chasing each

other in lines of light across its surface, or, as they broke,

catching the moon rays, and dying in a hundred colours with an angry

hiss.

Over the bridge at last! And here Jacopo with a sudden "_Cospitto!_"

put spurs to his horse, and galloped off down the Via Toma. So

unexpected was the movement, that it almost brought us to a halt, and

St. Armande called out--

"He is gone!"

"Not he, chevalier," I answered, "come on," and turning to the left we

trotted up the Ripetta. I knew Jacopo too well not to feel sure he

would catch us up again, and that he had some definite object, which

was not desertion, in going off as he did. Yet I could not help being

put out by his action, and resolved to give him the rough side of my

tongue when he came back. We were almost up to the Porta del Popolo

when he returned, coming with a loose rein, and as he drew in with the

troop, I turned round.

"How now, sirrah! What does this prank mean?"

"Pardon, excellency, it was no bee that stung me. I suddenly

remembered that we should have little luck on our journey if I did not

pay her dues to our Lady of the Fountain."

"Our Lady of the Fountain?"

"Excellency, the fountain of Trevi. Does not your worship know that no

one should leave Rome without dropping a piece of silver in her

basin?"

"Indeed! I was not aware of it, but remember--no more sudden thoughts

like this."

"Excellency!"

I said no more, and passing through the ruined Porta del Popolo where

the breaches made by Charles' cannon were still unrepaired, we took

the Flaminian Way, and galloped down the road almost in darkness owing

to the shadows thrown by the high walls on each side of us. We

re-crossed the Tiber at the Ponte Molle, and, still keeping the Via

Flaminia, turned our horses' heads in the direction of Castel Nuovo.

It was a wonderful night. There was no breeze, except that which we

made ourselves as we galloped along. Not a cloud obscured the sky,

arching deep blue over the yellow moon, now in her full strength. To

the left the beacon fire from the top of the Tor di Vergara blazed

like a red star low down in the horizon, and before us was the white

road stretching in a ghostly line, its ups and downs accentuated by

the moonlight. The Tiber lay to our right, but owing to the undulation

of the ground we could not see it, although an occasional flash showed

us where the waters reflected the rays of the moon.

Not the best horse in the world could keep up the pace we were going

for long, and I was old enough soldier to know that our speed must be

regulated by the slowest beast if we wanted to reach in full strength,

so I slackened rein to a walk and gave the animals a rest.

Excepting once, when Jacopo rode off to make his duty to the Fountain

of Trevi, I had not exchanged a word with St. Armande, indeed I was in

no mind to talk; but he broke the silence with a question.

"Do we ride all night, cavaliere?"

"We have many leagues to go, St. Armande."

"_Ciel!_" he muttered under his breath, and I heard the abbe as he

leaned forward whisper, "Courage! would you give way now? Courage!"

Clearly there was a mystery here to which I had no clue, and it

troubled me. I glanced at St. Armande, and through the moonlight saw

the white of his cheek, showing all the paler for the black patch he

wore transversely across it; but looking at him did not explain

matters.

"What the devil does this mean?" I said half aloud to myself.

"Did you speak?"

"Merely something to myself, chevalier. _Diavolo!_ But this is a dull

ride."

"Do you think so?" and his tone softened suddenly.

I made no reply, but stirred up Castor, and we jogged along. I left

the mystery to take care of itself, and mapped out a line of action. I

would take only two men with me into Perugia, and send the rest with

St. Armande to the convent of St. Jerome to await the result of my

attempt to free Angiola. It sounded like foolishness to give St.

Armande the control of the stronger party, especially if he meant

treachery; but this I was persuaded he did not. On the other hand a

following of six troopers was a trifle too many to pay a peaceful

visit to Baglioni, and might arouse suspicion, while they were too few

to attempt open force. In short, if I could not do what I wanted with

two men, I would not be able to effect it with six or a dozen, and

made up my mind to split our party, either after crossing the Paglia,

or beyond at San Fortunato.

In this manner, sometimes galloping, sometimes trotting, and at other

times walking our horses to give them a rest, we reached Castel Nuovo

but did not enter the town, skirting it by our right, although one of

the troopers suggested our going westwards by Campagnano, a useless

detour as it seemed to me. We passed the little town exactly at

midnight, and the chime of bells striking the hour fell pleasantly on

our ears. A short way beyond we found the road so cut into ruts and

fissures that it was not possible to go at any other than a snail's

pace, so that within the next two hours we barely covered as many

leagues. The moon was now on the wane, the road became worse, and one

or two of the horses showed signs of fatigue. Jacopo rode up beside

me.

"By your leave, excellency! We have the road by Soratte to cross soon,

and in the coming darkness may possibly lose our way. I would suggest,

therefore, that we halt here until dawn. It will rest the horses, and

with the light we could press on."

"Very well. Hark! Is not that the sound of water?"

"Yes, your worship."

"Then we will stop there."

A few yards beyond we came to a ruined temple, near which a fountain

was bubbling. Here I gave the order to halt, and in less time

than I take to write this, the troopers had sprung to earth, the

saddle-girths were loosened, and all the preparations for a two hours'

halt begun.

I shared a little wine with St. Armande and the abbe, and the former,

rolling himself up in his cloak, leaned his back against a fallen

pillar, and seemed to drop off at once into sleep.

The abbe followed his example; but my mind was too impatient for rest,

and I walked up and down, watching the ending of the moon, until it

finally sank out of sight, and darkness fell upon us.

Dark as it was around me, my mind was in a still greater darkness, for

I was unable to think of any plan by which I could gain access to

Angiola, after reaching Perugia. Time, too, was short; but that did

not matter, for I was prepared to let the affair of the ducats slide,

rather than lose any chance of rescuing her.

A straw yet remained. Luck might be on my side; and with luck and a

strong heart one might do anything. There was nothing for it but to

content myself for the present with this. Until I reached Perugia I

could develop no plan. So I paced up and down with an unsettled mind,

and finally, seating myself on a stone, awaited the morning,

alternately nodding and awakening with a start.

At last! The east began to whiten, and getting up stiffly, I touched

Jacopo with the end of my sword. He jumped up with an exclamation, and

recognising me, began to apologise. This I cut short, and bade him

arouse the men.

"This instant, your worship. _Cospetto!_ To think I should have

overslept myself! Ho, sluggards! Buffaloes! Awake! Think you that you

are going to snore here all night?" and he began to stir the men up.

They rose willingly enough, with tremendous yawnings, and stretching

of arms, and we were soon on the march again, through the increasing

daylight.

The coming day seemed to warm the hearts of the men, and one of them

broke into song, the chorus being taken up by the others as we jogged

along. When this had lasted some little time, I gave Castor's reins a

shake, and off we went at a smart gallop.

Shortly after passing San Oreste the road led along the side of

Soratte, and, the morning being young, besides very bright and clear,

we had a glorious view. To the left lay Civita Castellana, the walls

of the new citadel standing high above the town, which lay in the

middle of a network of deep ravines; to the right and behind us the

Sabine Hills extended in long, airy lines, and the wooded heights of

Pellachio and San Gennaro, where, close to Palembara, was an old

castle of our house, rose to the south-east. Above us was the

monastery of St. Silvestre, and Soratte itself reached towards where

Borghetto stood, on a bend of the Tiber, in a series of descending

peaks. Cool puffs of air caught us, and freshened the horses as well

as our hearts, and it was a cheery party that finally reached the

Ponte Felice, and entered the town. Here our safe-conduct again stood

us in good stead. Indeed, we had difficulty in getting away, for the

Captain Lippi, who held Borghetto for the Borghia, wished to press his

hospitality on us for a few days; but on my eventually taking him

aside, and whispering to him that I was bound on a confidential

mission, he gave in, but with some little reluctance. He, however,

invited us to share his table at dinner. I accepted, but St. Armande,

who was looking very wearied, declined, and dined quietly with the

abbe at the "Silver Eel," where I quartered my men.

Lippi was an old soldier risen from the ranks, with a head more full

of drill than suspicion; but in order to remove any such weed that

might be growing there, I affected to be so delighted with his

conversation at dinner, that I begged the favour of his accompanying

me for a league or so on my way, after we had dined. To this he agreed

with alacrity, and I was subsequently sorry for my pains, for the old

bore did not quit me until we had all but reached the Nera, and saw

the campanile of St. Juvenalis rising above Narni. We did this portion

of the journey at a rapid pace, as I wanted, if possible, to shake off

the captain, but, mounted on an Apulian, he stuck to me like a burr,

dinning into my ears his opinion as to how the cross-bow was a weapon

as superior to the arquebus as the mangonel was above even Novarro's

new cannon. At length he wished us the day and departed, and the

horses, scenting the end of their day's journey, put on fresh speed as

we galloped through the oaks that studded the valley of the Nera. The

river here was hemmed into a narrow ravine, and crossing by an ancient

bridge of three spans, supposed to have been built by the Romans, we

climbed up the steep ascent that led to Narni, and there found food

and lodging for both man and beast, at an albergo, the name of which,

somehow, I have forgotten. St. Armande was quite worn out, and I saw

he was unfitted for any long strain. We supped together, and he

retired almost at once. After supper I had a detailed examination of

the horses, and found that one of them had a sore back. The trooper

who owned him, vowed he would not part with him, so I had to dismiss

the man, which I did. This reduced my fighting strength to six men,

including Jacopo. I did not include St. Armande and his followers in

estimating this, putting them down to so much encumbrance, of which I

would soon take care to be rid. I was anxious, however, to hurry on,

and so altered my original plans a little, and in the morning, after

we had gone about a league, I turned to St. Armande, and said:

"Chevalier, it is necessary for me to press on with all speed. I want

you, therefore, to do me a favour."

"Anything you like, cavaliere; but we do not part, do we?"

"It is this. I am going on at once; I want you to take four of my

troopers, and with your own following make for the convent of St.

Jerome. It lies a little beyond Magione. Your arrival will be

expected. If not, say you are awaiting me. Await me for a week. If I

do not come then, go back to Rome, and tell the cardinal what you have

done."

"But I thought I was to go with you, and share your adventure."

"I give you my word of honour, St. Armande, that you will share

in the adventure for which I agreed you should come--share up to the

elbows--but you will spoil everything if you do not do what I say."

"There is no danger to you?"

"No more than there is to you; in one word, St. Armande, do you agree

or not?"

"Very well."

"Then there is no time to lose. Jacopo!"

"Excellency."

"Pick out a man, and he, you, the lackey, and myself, will go on

ahead. The rest can follow. I have given all other orders to the

signor, St. Armande."

"There is Bande Nere, your worship."

"I am ready, cavaliere;" and a tall, thin, grey-moustached trooper

saluted as he spoke.

He looked the man I wanted. My lackey was a stout horseman, and at a

pinch might hold a sword as well as he held my valise. So, shaking

hands with St. Armande, I put spurs to Castor, and we dashed off.

Turning the corner of a belt of forest land, I looked back and waved

my hand in further adieu to the chevalier. I caught the flutter of the

white handkerchief the young dandy carried, as he loosed it to the air

in reply to my salute, and the next moment the trees hid them from

view.

We rode hard now, Castor going almost as freely as when we started.

Indeed, I would have far outpaced the others, if I did not let him

feel the bit once, and the noble beast, as if knowing his duty,

required no further warning not to outstrip his companions.

Going as we were now Perugia was but a few hours away; but the pace

was too great to last long, and from Todi to Perugia there were nine

leagues and a trifle over of an ascending road. Castor might do it,

the others I was sure would not. In order, therefore, to rest the

horses, as well as to avoid question, I resolved that we should dine

at Rosaro, and after an hour or so of rest press forwards, passing by

Todi, and travelling all night, so as to reach Perugia in the morning.

If we went faster, we would only reach at night, and so late as to

find entrance into the town impossible.

We clattered past the villages of San Gemini and Castel Todino, and

about noon drew up our now somewhat blown beasts at the gates of the

"Man-at-Arms," the only inn in the village.

It was a poor place I saw at a glance, and as we pulled up, a crowd of

yokels in holiday attire gathered around us. The inn seemed full, too,

for the yard swarmed with people, and a half-score heads of contadini

were at each window, staring at us open-eyed.

As I took this in, the landlord came running out, cap in hand and full

of apologies.

"_Ohime!_ But my house is full to the garrets, signore; and it is

nothing I can do for you to-day. To-morrow is the feast of St. Mary of

the Consolation, and all the country is going to Todi----"

"I do not want to stay. We merely halt here to bait our horses and to

dine. Can you not manage that?"

"If that is all, excellency, yes, oh, yes. The beasts, they can rest

anywhere, and there is a polenta and room for your excellency's

followers; but for yourself, signore," and he shook his head

mournfully.

"What is the difficulty?" And I dismounted, my men following suit.

"But this, signore. There is but one room in the house you could use,

and that is occupied by two gentlemen of the army. Violent men,

signore, who will not allow any one to share it. _Lasso me!_ But not a

paul have they paid me as yet!"

"Give them my compliments, and say that the Cavaliere Donati begs to

be allowed a corner of their table for his dinner."

"Alas, signore! It is useless. They have been here two days----"

"Then it is time they made room for other travellers. Give my message,

landlord, and say I am following."

Mine host trotted off with considerable misgivings expressed in his

face, and followed by my lackey, bearing my valise, I went after him

at a slower pace.

When I reached the room, which could hardly be missed, seeing it was

the only one in the house that had any pretence of appearance, I found

the door open, and heard a half-drunken voice shouting:

"Begone, dog! Blood of a king! But are two gentlemen to be disturbed

because a signore with a long name wants to dine? Skull of St. Jerome!

Did you ever hear the like of this? _Cospetto!_ Tell him to go hang,

or I'll spit him like a lark."

I heard enough to recognise the voice, and turning to the lackey said:

"Send Jacopo here at once with a stout cudgel--run."

The man went off on the double, and I remained without the door

listening with amusement to the ancient Brico's bluster, for it was

he, and he was having all the talk, his companion, whoever he was, now

and then giving a grunt of assent.

"Mitre and cowl! Hell and sulphur! Will you begone, fool, or shall I

slit your windpipe?" and I heard him beat the table with his fist.

"Out, rascal," he roared, "and bring in another skin of chianti."

Out came the wretched inn-keeper, and seeing me at the door began to

urge me to go; but at this moment Jacopo came running up with a stout

stick in his hand, and pushing the landlord on one side I stepped into

the room, followed by Jacopo.

Brico's friend, who was quite drunk as it seemed, had fallen asleep

whilst he was talking, and lay with his head between his arms, half on

the table, half on his chair. The ancient was seated with an empty

skin before him, and rose in wrath as I entered.

"What the----," he began in a wine-blown voice, and then his face

paled a little as he saw me.

I did not waste words. "Cudgel me this fellow out, Jacopo," I said,

and Jacopo attended to the task as if he loved it. The ancient

attempted to draw his sword, but it was useless, and a minute or two

later he was flung out into the courtyard, beaten to a jelly and

howling for mercy. He lay where he was flung, too bruised to move.

His friend slept through it all; but as my lackey lifted up his head

in an attempt to eject him, I recognised Piero Luigi, and felt that

some more stringent action than I had taken with Brico should be

adopted here.

"This man is a thief," I said to the landlord, "and his friend little

better."

"Then to the stocks they go; and now," almost screamed the host, "not

a paul have they paid me, signore, I swear this, the bandits. Hi!

Giuseppe! Giovanni!"

A couple of stout knaves came running in, and the innkeeper, trembling

with anger and fear combined, yelled out:

"Bind this brigand and his companion securely, keep them in the

stables, and to-morrow we will hale them before the podesta."

I enjoyed my dinner comfortably, and on going out to see after the

horses was met by Bande Nere, who took me aside to where, in a corner

of the stables, two men were lying securely bound. One was Luigi,

still happily drunk. The other was the ancient, whose bones must have

ached sorely, for he had been beaten sober, and was feeling the full

effect of the cudgel and the ropes. He was groaning terribly, and,

being sorry for the wretch, I was about to intercede for him with the

landlord, when Jacopo interposed with a whispered--

"Let the scotched snake lie, signore, he knows too much."

I let wisdom take its course, and left the ancient to his sorrows.