CHAPTER XXVI.

CONCERNING MANY THINGS.

Everyone knows the history of the times, and it is not my intention to

dilate on this, but merely to set down, without comment, those matters

of state in which Fortune allowed me to play a part. When Cesare

surrendered at Ostia the Borgia were broken for ever, and Valentinois

allowed, after a short confinement, to escape to Spain, where he died

like a soldier. Now that the game was in their hands, the allies began

to quarrel amongst themselves, the French king to drivel away his

opportunities in gaiety, and the Venetians to step in, in their Most

Serene way, and claim a share of the spoils for the Lion of St. Mark.

Events moved quickly, the genius of the Great Captain won victory

after victory for Spain, the death of Francis Piccolomini paved the

way for the accession of Rouvere to the Papacy as Julius II., and the

Holy League was formed, by means of which the French were finally

driven from Italy. Thus, in a few years, the work of D'Amboise was

scattered to the winds, but long before that time I had sheathed my

sword, and concerned myself no more with war.

But on the day that I surrendered my prisoner to D'Amboise and Orsini,

the former already in thought sat in St. Peter's Chair, and the

latter, at the very least, imagined himself the Lord of the Romagna. I

sent forward couriers, with the news of my success, to the cardinal,

and ere we reached Malafede, met with a return messenger from

D'Amboise, bearing a brief note of congratulation, and adding that

Colonna had made terms to evacuate the portions of the city he held.

The messenger informed me, that the Bailly of Caen had already entered

Rome by the Porta Pia, and that, finding himself between two fires,

old Fabrizi Colonna had made a virtue of necessity, and by yielding

now, reserved himself for another day. This enabled me to go back by

an easier route than we had come, and as we rode through the Ostian

Gate, I could not help contrasting my present entry to the day when

Jacopo and I had reined in our weary steeds to let the Borgia pass,

and give his following the road. At the Ponte S. Angelo, I surrendered

my prisoner to Orsini in person, and truly thought he would have but a

few hours more to live, for Gentil' Virginio had a long score to

settle with the Borgia, and a longer memory for a wrong. The blood,

too, of Paolo, whom Cesare strangled at Sinigaglia, and that of the

Cardinal Orsini, whom he brutally murdered in Rome, called aloud for

vengeance. Cesare himself seemed to be aware of this, for whereas up

to now he had remained in a sullen silence, he found tongue to implore

me, in the most servile manner, not to deliver him to Orsini, and when

I told him I had no option, he tried to creep out of his litter, and

lay his cap at the feet of his enemy. Orsini spoke nothing, merely

ordering him to be borne to S. Angelo; but as the Borgia shrank back

into his litter, he said with a grim smile that he trusted the duke

would find his entertainment to his liking. How it happened that

Cesare came off with a whole skin I never knew, but he did, as I have

mentioned above, and it surpasses belief. He turned cur at the last,

and the low blood showed in him; but he was one of those men who knew

how to be thoroughly bad. Orsini took back his lances, saying he had

need of them, so that it was with my own few men that I reached the

Palazzo Corneto. I must except Bande Nere from this number, and I was

truly sorry for his death, for his was an honest sword. The cardinal

received me in the little chamber where we had supped with

Machiavelli. He had thrown aside his clerical habit and was in mail,

but wore his barettina on his head. He was more than kind,

congratulating me heartily on my success, going so far as to say that

by capturing Cesare I had given a kingdom to France. I then left him

with further assurances of his goodwill towards me, and saw him no

more for the day.

Towards the small hours of the next morning I was aroused from a deep

sleep by Jacopo. Starting up, I inquired what was astir, and was told

that Defaure, the page, was waiting to see me. I gave orders for his

instant admission, and, on coming in, he informed me that his eminence

desired my immediate attendance. Telling Jacopo to have Castor

saddled, for I smelt work afoot, I flung myself into my clothes, and

hastened to D'Amboise.

He had evidently not slept all night, and was pacing the room in

agitation.

"St. Dennis!" he burst out, as I entered, "do you know what they have

done? The king holds a tourney at Arezzo instead of marching on at

once. What is worse, he has granted an extension of the truce to

Spain, and Tremouille and the rest of them are off to the junkets.

They are making a May-day with those ducats you captured. By God! they

would dance away a kingdom."

"Your eminence has no doubt sent news of the capture of Cesare?"

"That was only yesterday, man," he snapped, "and De Briconnet is

riding for his life to the king. But it is about this I sent for you,"

he went on rapidly. "De Briconnet may come to harm. Here are other

despatches. Take them and follow him; overtake him if you can. When

can you start?"

"Now."

"Good--here are the papers. And this for Tremouille. Adieu!"--and he

held out his hand--"_Monsieur le Compte_."

I started a little at the last words which he uttered in French, but

had no time to ask for explanation or make inquiry. I hurried to my

apartments and found Castor ready. Bidding Jacopo follow me to Arezzo

with my men as soon as possible, I gave Castor the rein and rode out

of Rome. At Citta del Pieve I got my first news of De Briconnet. At

Cartona he was but two hours ahead of me, and when on the afternoon of

the second day I reined in the staggering Castor at the gates of the

Villa Accolti, where the king was, I saw in the courtyard a dead

horse, his sides still bleeding from the spur marks, and judged that

De Briconnet had barely beaten me by a head for all his twelve hours'

start. So once again had I entered the Villa Accolti! And as I sprang

to the ground, loosed the girths over Castor's heaving flanks, and

resigned the reins to a willing groom who led the poor beast to rest,

all the past came back to me with a vivid force, and I looked around,

almost expecting to meet again the glances of scorn and contempt, to

hear once more the hisses, the mockery, and the foul reproach of that

day.

The cardinal was right enough when he said that high junkets were to

be held. And the day seemed to be one of merry-making. Flags were

flying from all parts of the villa, and the wide grounds were full of

the followers of the court, and the townspeople either watching, or

engaged in sports of wrestling, archery, and other games.

For the great ones, however, the out-of-door amusement of the day came

to an end with the dinner-hour, and they were now disporting

themselves within. From the open windows strains of music floated out

into the sunlight and gay figures passed and repassed, or moved in and

out of the balcony overhanging the grand entrance which seemed, from

the constant movement and the brilliant dresses of those who crowded

thereon, to be like a bed of flowers stirring in the wind. As I came

below the balcony, I did not dare to look up, but with my sword in the

loop of my arm and my despatches clenched in my right hand, walked up

the marble steps.

"Post from Rome! Post from the Lord Cardinal!"

The sonorous voice of the ushers pealed this out, and I found myself

at the entrance to the gallery leading to the great hall where I had

been tried.

"Not here, sir--to the left." My way was barred by an equerry in

violet and gold.

"Not so, De Brienne, the king receives these despatches in person,"

and Bayard had linked his arm in mine.

"But, my lord!"

"I take the blame," and Bayard, blazing in full mail, led me through

the gallery whose sides were lined with the archers of the Scottish

Guard. Archers in name only now, and little as my time was, I could

not forbear glancing at these fine troops, who, although few in

number, bore an unequalled reputation for service in the field. The

doors at the entrance to the hall, which were guarded by two gigantic

men-at-arms, were opened only at fixed intervals to let people in and

out, and by this means an attempt was made to avoid overcrowding.

There were a considerable number before us, and having to go slowly,

we had time to exchange a few words.

"I suppose De Briconnet has passed in?" I asked, "he could only have

just arrived, for his horse lies dead at the gates."

"I doubt it. All posts are received by De Vesci, whose wrath we are

going to brave. If De Briconnet came in here direct, he was probably

stopped and sent to the seneschal's apartments."

"If so, as he was the first-comer, he should present the despatches,"

I urged; "I bear but duplicates?"

"There is no time to think of that now," replied Bayard, and as he

spoke the doors unfolded, and in a crash of music and the murmur of

voices, above which now and again trilled a peal of clear feminine

laughter, we entered the hall. At first we were unobserved, for the

interest of every one was gathered to the centre of the room, where to

the strains of music a game of chess was being played with living

figures. The king himself took part in it, and I had good opportunity

of observing him. Time had not changed Louis much, although his

reckless life had enfeebled his constitution. He had the features of

his house, the wide forehead, the oval face, the pointed chin, below

which his short brown beard was neatly trimmed. His grey eyes were set

somewhat wide apart, and his hair, which was naturally straight, he

wore carefully curled, in a length that all but touched his shoulders.

He was dressed in a tight-fitting surcoat of green, with green

trunk-hose and stockings of the same colour. A short cloak, also of

green, fell from his shoulder, and below his left knee was bound the

ribbon of the English Order of the Garter, of which he was very proud.

On his head was a velvet cap lapelled in front and on either side, and

alive with the light of jewels, with which it was studded. He was

playing king in the game, Madame de la Tremouille acting as queen, and

the rival king was Tremouille himself, who had for his partner Isabel

the Good, the wife of Gonsaga of Mantua, a princess distinguished

alike for her beauty and her virtue. A little apart from the players,

and watching the game with a grave interest, stood Etienne de Vesci,

the Seneschal of Beaucaire, who was, after the cardinal, the most

powerful man in France, and, indeed, was supposed by many to have more

of the king's ear. Close by him were a number of ladies, and I ran my

eye amongst them and around the hall, hoping in vain to catch sight of

the one face I longed to see. Whilst so engaged De Vesci observed me,

and seeing the papers in my hand, made an imperious gesture, beckoning

me towards him. This I pretended not to observe, and the seneschal,

biting his lip, edged his way towards me. It was easy to see from my

travelled and stained appearance, the red on my spurs, and the packet

in my hand, that I was the bearer of news.

"Is not monsieur aware," he said in a harsh voice, speaking in French,

"that papers for the king should be brought to me?"

"These are for the king's hand," I answered.

"It is enough. Give them to me," and he held forth his hand.

"I have said, my lord, that they are for His Majesty's own hands."

Bayard, who was watching the game now drawing to a close, turned round

at this, and grasping the matter, cut in.

"_Ciel!_ My Lord, let the cavaliere deliver his packet. It will come

to you soon enough. Take a holiday for once."

De Vesci frowned, and was about to make a hot answer, when there was a

sudden shout and a clapping of hands, and Louis, who had won the game,

came forward leading Madame de la Tremouille in triumph. The last move

was made but a few feet from us, and as the king faced round with his

partner he caught sight of our group and called out as he advanced--

"Victory! We have won. Why those black looks, De Vesci? Come and

congratulate us."

With an effort the seneschal smoothed his face, "Victory always

attends your majesty, and with so fair a partner defeat would be

impossible," and he bowed with a courtly grace; but the wrinkles of

his frown were still on his forehead. The duchess grew red with

pleasure at the compliment, and Louis clapped his hands like a boy.

"Excellent! Trust a courtier's lip for a soft speech;" and then,

observing me, "but what have we here?"

"From Rome, your majesty," and dropping to my knee, I presented my

papers, which the king took irresolutely in his hand.

"_Diable!_" he exclaimed, with an impatient gesture, "from my lord

cardinal no doubt?" And he glanced at me.

"Your majesty, and of the most vital import," and I rose.

"I must read them, I suppose. A plague on the cardinal! We were just

going to the minuet----"

"I will deal with the matter, sire. The papers should have come to

me," and De Vesci, saying this in his harsh, grating voice, reached

forth his hand. Usually a perfect master of his temper, he had

somehow, for once, let it get the better of him; and his closing words

and manner were almost those of command. Louis, though a brave man,

had a weak nature and a hasty temper. A temper that was often aroused

to fits of obstinacy, little short of mulish. He caught the

seneschal's tone, and perhaps also the suppressed smile that nickered

on the faces of his courtiers. His forehead darkened, "You mistake, my

lord, these papers come rightly to me," and turning his back on the

seneschal, he tore open the packet.

De Vesci stepped back, white to the lips, and the court gathered round

the king in silence. Seeing Tremouille at hand, I made bold to step up

to him, and give him D'Amboise's note. He glanced at it, and turning

to me said, "I gave my word, and it shall be kept. The honour of

Tremouille is pledged."

I was at a loss to understand; but had no time to think, for Louis

suddenly called out, "Tremouille--Bayard--gentlemen! The Borgia is

taken! Rome is ours!"

At once there was a buzz, and a murmur of voices, in eager

congratulation at the glad tidings. Standing alone and apart from all,

I could barely see Louis, so closely did the court press around him;

but it seemed that Tremouille was urging something on him, and the

duchess too, for I caught the flash of the jewels on her fingers, as

in her eagerness she laid them on the king's arm. Then Bayard's deep

voice came to me clearly, "If done, 'twere well done quickly, sire."

I do not exactly know how it happened; but I found myself kneeling

before the king, who stood above me, his drawn sword in his hand.

"M. di Savelli," he said, "one king of France owed you his life,

another all but owes you a kingdom. Wear again your cross. It was

nobly won. Take back your knighthood." He laid the blade gently on my

shoulder, "for God, for your King, for your Lady. Arise, Sir Knight!"

He stretched forth his hand to aid me to my feet, and I stood up

again, with my honour white, in the very hall, almost on the very

spot, whence I had been cast out in ignominy and shame.

I could not speak--I was choked--my eyes were wet with tears. Seeing

my emotion, Louis placed his hand kindly on my shoulder.

"Remember, Di Savelli," he said, "France needs you yet. To the minuet,

my lords and ladies--to the minuet!"

And he turned down the hall, not waiting for my thanks. But friends

sprang up everywhere. The first to give me her good wishes was the

Duchesse de la Tremouille, then came the duke, old Ives d'Alegres, and

others I can scarcely name. It was whilst in their midst that I saw a

face I knew well, and Machiavelli came up.

"Late, but not the less warm in my congratulations," he said; "so the

good ship is safe in port at last! We owe you too much for speech, and

can never thank you enough."

"Your excellency is most kind. Is the Lady Angiola well?"

He was silent for a moment, and laughed to himself, as if something

stirred him. "As well as ever she was," he answered at length, and

added, "You must sup with us this evening. We lodge in the Borgo di

San Vito, and never mind your attire. My wife longs to see you, and

thank you in person."

Other friends coming up, our converse was brought to an end, and I

managed to effect my escape, and take refuge in the pavilion of

Bayard, who insisted on my being his guest. I would have willingly

foregone the supper at the Borgo di San Vito, as I was weary; but

having promised, borrowed a horse from my host, and set out. I reached

the secretary's lodging, punctually to the hour, and was received by

Gian, who, after a respectful inquiry concerning my health, ushered me

into an apartment, where, on entering, I found myself alone. I had to

wait some little time, and wondering at the strangeness of my

reception, I walked towards a window, overlooking the private gardens

of the house. As I reached it, I heard the rustle of trailing

garments, and turning round beheld Angiola before me. She came up with

outstretched hands, and I took them in mine, and looked into her eyes.

Then I found words; they come to every man at the right time, and I

spoke. She made no answer as I pleaded my cause, and fearing the

worst, I dropped her hands, with a bitter reproach against my age and

my scarred face. When I had done she remained still, with her eyes

down, and there was a silence. Then she looked up again.

"Di Savelli," and her voice was very low, "you say your face is

scarred by wounds. Do you know, cavaliere, I would I were a man, that

I too might bear wounds on my face, and looking in my mirror, see how

they became me." And the rest concerns not anyone.

* * * * *

We were married before the end of the truce, and on my wedding day, I

received from His Majesty the King, the patents of the county of

Fresnoy, in Guienne, a distinction that was extended to me in Italy,

by His Holiness Pope Pius III., who, on my purchasing a portion of my

ancestral estates back from Amilcar Chigi, confirmed to me the title

in my native land. But the gift I valued most of all, was a tari of

Amalfi, to which still clung a shred of the gold link, by which it had

been attached to a bracelet. And this was from my wife!