CHAPTER XIX. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT
Peppe's quick eyes had seen Gonzaga crumple and drop the paper, no lessthan he had observed the courtier's startled face, and his suspicionshad been aroused. He was by nature prying, and experience had taughthim that the things men seek to conceal are usually the very thingsit imports most to have knowledge of. So when Gonzaga had gone, inobedience to Valentina's summons, the jester peered carefully over thebattlements.
At first he saw nothing, and he was concluding with disappointment thatthe thing Gonzaga had cast from him was lost in the torrential watersof the moat. But presently, lodged on a jutting stone, above the foamingstream into which it would seem that a miracle had prevented itfrom falling, he espied a ball of crumpled paper. He observedwith satisfaction that it lay some ten feet immediately below thepostern-gate by the drawbridge.
Secretly, for it was not Peppy's way to take men into his confidencewhere it might be avoided, he got himself a coil of rope. Havingdescended and quietly opened the postern, he made one end fast andlowered the other to the water with extreme care, lest he shoulddislodge, and so lose, that paper.
Assuring himself again that he was unobserved, he went down, hand overhand, like a monkey, his feet against the rough-hewn granite of thewall. Then, with a little swinging of the rope, he brought himselfnearer that crumpled ball, his legs now dangling in the angry water, andby a mighty stretch that all but precipitated him into the torrent, heseized the paper and transferred it to his teeth. Then hand over handagain, and with a frantic haste, for he feared observation not only fromthe castle sentries but also from the watchers in the besieger's camp,he climbed back to the postern, exulting in that he had gone unobserved,and contemptuous for the vigilance of those that should have observedhim.
Softly he closed the wicket, locked it and shot home the bolts at topand base, and went to replace the key on its nail in the guard-room,which he found untenanted. Next, with that mysterious letter in hishand, he scampered off across the courtyard and through the porchleading to the domestic quarters, nor paused until he had gained thekitchen, where Fra Domenico was roasting the quarter of a lamb thathe had that morning butchered. For now that the siege was established,there was no more fish from the brook, nor hares and ortolans from thecountry-side.
The friar cursed the fool roundly, as was his wont upon everyoccasion, for he was none so holy that he disdained the milder formsof objurgatory oaths. But Peppe for once had no vicious answer ready, amatter that led the Dominican to ask him was he ill.
Never heeding him, the fool unfolded and smoothed the crumpled paper ina corner by the fire. He read it and whistled, then stuffed it into thebosom of his absurd tunic.
"What ails you?" quoth the friar. "What have you there?"
"A recipe for a dish of friar's brains. A most rare delicacy, andrendered costly by virtue of the scarcity of the ingredients." And withthat answer Peppe was gone, leaving the monk with an ugly look in hiseyes, and an unuttered imprecation on his tongue.
Straight to the Count of Aquila went the fool with his letter. Francescoread it, and questioned him closely as to what he knew of the manner inwhich it had come into Gonzaga's possession. For the rest, those lines,far from causing him the uneasiness Peppe expected, seemed a source ofsatisfaction and assurance to him.
"He offers a thousand gold florins," he muttered, "in addition toGonzaga's liberty and advancement. Why, then, I have said no more thanwas true when I assured the men that Gian Maria was but idly threateningus with bombardment. Keep this matter secret, Peppe."
"But you will watch Messer Gonzaga?" quoth the fool.
"Watch him? Why, where is the need? You do not imagine him so vile thatthis offer could tempt him?"
Peppe looked up, his great, whimsical face screwed into an expression ofcunning doubt.
"You do not think, lord, that he invited it?"
"Now, shame on you for that thought. Messer Gonzaga may be an idlelute-thrummer, a poor-spirited coward; but a traitor----! And to betrayMonna Valentina! No, no."
But the fool was far from reassured. He had had the longer acquaintanceof Messer Gonzaga, and his shrewd eyes had long since taken the man'sexact measure. Let Francesco scorn the notion of betrayal at Romeo'shands; Peppe would dog him like a shadow. This he did for the remainderof that day, clinging to Gonzaga as if he loved him dearly, andfurtively observing the man's demeanour. Yet he saw nothing to confirmhis suspicions beyond a certain preoccupied moodiness on the courtier'spart.
That night, as they supped, Gonzaga pleaded toothache, and withValentina's leave he quitted the table at the very outset of the meal.Peppe rose to follow him, but as he reached the door, his natural enemy,the friar--ever anxious to thwart him where he could--caught him by thenape of the neck, and flung him unceremoniously back into the room.
"Have you a toothache too, good-for-naught?" quoth the frate. "Stay youhere and help me to wait upon the company."
"Let me go, good Fra Domenico," the fool whispered, in a voice soearnest that the monk left his way clear. But Valentina's voice now badehim stay with them, and so his opportunity was lost.
He moved about the room a very dispirited, moody fool with no quip foranyone, for his thoughts were all on Gonzaga and the treason that hewas sure he was hatching. Yet faithful to Francesco, who sat allunconcerned, and not wishing to alarm Valentina, he choked back thewarning that rose to his lips, seeking to convince himself that hisfears sprang perhaps from an excess of suspicion. Had he knownhow well-founded indeed they were he might have practised lessself-restraint.
For whilst he moved sullenly about the room, assisting Fra Domenico withthe dishes and platters, Gonzaga paced the ramparts beside Cappoccio,who was on sentry duty on the north wall.
His business called for no great diplomacy, nor did Gonzaga employ much.He bluntly told Cappoccio that he and his comrades had allowed MesserFrancesco's glib tongue to befool them that morning, and that theassurances Francesco had given them were not worthy of an intelligentman's consideration.
"I tell you, Cappoccio," he ended, "that to remain here and protractthis hopeless resistance will cost you your life at the unsavoury handsof the hangman. You see I am frank with you."
Now for all that what Gonzaga told him might sort excellently well withthe ideas he had himself entertained, Cappoccio was of a suspiciousnature, and his suspicions whispered to him now that Gonzaga wasactuated by some purpose he could not gauge.
He stood still, and leaning with both hands upon his partisan, he soughtto make out the courtier's features in the dim light of the rising moon.
"Do you mean," he asked, and in his voice sounded the surprise withwhich Gonzaga's odd speech had filled him, "that we are foolish to havelistened to Messer Francesco, and that we should be better advised tomarch out of Roccaleone?"
"Yes; that is what I mean."
"But why," he insisted, his surprise increasing, "do you urge such acourse upon us?"
"Because, Cappoccio," was the plausible reply, "like yourselves, I waslured into this business by insidious misrepresentations. The assurancesthat I gave Fortemani, and with which he enrolled you into his service,were those that had been given to me. I did not bargain with such adeath as awaits us here, and I frankly tell you that I have no stomachfor it."
"I begin to understand," murmured Cappoccio, sagely wagging his head,and there was a shrewd insolence in his tone and manner. "When we leaveRoccaleone you come with us?"
Gonzaga nodded.
"But why do you not say these things to Fortemani?" questionedCappoccio, still doubting.
"Fortemani!" echoed Gonzaga. "By the Host, no! The man is bewitchedby that plausible rogue, Francesco. Far from resenting the fellow'streatment of him, he follows and obeys his every word, like themean-spirited dog that he is."
Again Cappoccio sought to scrutinise Gonzaga's face. But the light wasindifferent.
"Are you dealing with me fairly?" he asked. "Or does some deeper purposelie under your wish that we should rebel against the
lady?"
"My friend," answered Gonzaga, "do you but wait until Gian Maria'sherald comes for his answer in the morning. Then you will learn againthe terms on which your lives are offered you. Do nothing until then.But when you hear yourselves threatened with the rope and the wheel,bethink you of what course you will be best advised in pursuing. You askme what purpose inspires me. I have already told you--for I am as openas the daylight with you--that I am inspired by the purpose of saving myown neck. Is not that purpose enough?"
A laugh of such understanding as would have set a better man on firewith indignation was the answer he received.
"Why, yes, it is more than enough. To-morrow, then, my comrades and Imarch out of Roccaleone. Count upon that."
"But do not accept my word. Wait until the herald comes again. Donothing until you have heard the terms he brings."
"Why, no, assuredly not."
"And do not let it transpire among your fellows that it is I who havesuggested this."
"Why no. I'll keep your secret," laughed the bravo offensively,shouldering his partisan and resuming his sentinel's pacing.
Gonzaga sought his bed. A fierce joy consumed him at having soconsummately planned Valentina's ruin, yet he did not wish to face heragain that night.
But when on the morrow the herald wound his horn again beneath thecastle walls, Gonzaga was prominent in the little group that attendedMonna Valentina. The Count of Aquila was superintending the work towhich he had set a half-score of men. With a great show, and as muchnoise as possible--by which Francesco intended that the herald should beimpressed--they were rolling forward four small culverins and somethree cannons of larger calibre, and planting them so that they made amenacing show in the crenels of the parapet.
Whilst watching and directing the men, he kept his ears open for themessage, and he heard the herald again recite the terms on which thegarrison might surrender, and again the threat to hang every man fromthe castle-walls if they compelled him to reduce them by force of arms.He brought his message to an end by announcing that in his extremeclemency Gian Maria accorded them another half-hour's grace in which toresolve themselves upon their course. Should the end of that timestill find them obstinate, the bombardment would commence. Such was themessage that in another of his arrow-borne letters Gonzaga had suggestedGian Maria should send.
It was Francesco who stepped forward to reply. He had been stooping overone of the guns, as if to assure himself of the accuracy of its aim, andas he rose he pronounced himself satisfied in a voice loud enough forthe herald's hearing. Then he advanced to Valentina's side, and whilsthe stood there delivering his answer he never noticed the silentdeparture of the men from the wall.
"You will tell his Highness of Babbiano," he replied, "that he remindsus of the boy in the fable who cried 'Wolf!' too often. Tell him, sir,that his threats leave this garrison as unmoved as do his promises. Ifso be that he intends in truth to bombard us, let him begin forthwith.We are ready for him, as you perceive. Maybe he did not suppose usequipped with cannon; but there they stand. Those guns are trained uponhis camp, and the first shot he fires upon us shall be a signal forsuch a reply as he little dreams of. Tell him, too, that we expect noquarter, and will yield none. We are unwilling for bloodshed, but if hedrives us to it and executes his purpose of employing cannon, then theconsequences be upon his own head. Bear him that answer, and tell him tosend you no more with empty threats."
The herald bowed upon the withers of his horse. The arrogance, the coldimperiousness of the message struck him dumb with amazement. Amazementwas his, too, that Roccaleone should be armed with cannon, as with hisown eyes he saw. That those guns were empty he could not guess, norcould Gian Maria when he heard a message that filled him with rage, andwould have filled him with dismay, but that he counted upon the mutinywhich Gonzaga had pledged himself to stir up.
As the herald was riding away a gruff laugh broke from Fortemani, whostood behind the Count.
Valentina turned to Francesco with eyes that beamed admiration and asingular tenderness.
"Oh, what had I done without you, Messer Francesco?" she cried, forsurely the twentieth time since his coming. "I tremble to think howthings had gone without your wit and valour to assist me." She nevernoticed the malicious smile that trembled on Gonzaga's pretty face."Where did you find the powder?" she asked innocently, for her mind hadnot yet caught that humour of the situation that had drawn a laugh fromFortemani.
"I found none," answered Francesco, smiling from the shadow of his helm."My threats"--and he waved his hand in the direction of that formidablearray of guns--"are as empty as Gian Maria's. Yet I think they willimpress him more than his do us. I will answer for it, Madonna, thatthey deter him from bombarding us--if so be that he ever intended to. Solet us go and break our fast with a glad courage."
"Those guns are empty?" she gasped. "And you could talk so boldly andthreaten so defiantly!"
Mirth crept now into her face, and thrust back the alarm, a little ofwhich had peeped from her eyes even as she was extolling Francesco.
"There!" he cried joyously. "You are smiling now, Madonna. Nor haveyou cause for aught else. Shall we descend? This early morning work hasgiven me the hunger of a wolf."
She turned to go with him, and in that moment, Peppe, his owlish facespread over with alarm, dashed up the steps from the courtyard.
"Madonna!" he gasped, breathless. "Messer Francesco! Themen--Cappoccio---- He is haranguing them. He--is inciting them totreachery."
So, in gasps, he got out his tale, which swept the mirth again fromValentina's eyes, and painted very white her cheek. Strong and bravethough she was, she felt her senses swimming at that sudden revulsionfrom confidence to fear. Was all indeed ended at the very moment whenhope had reached its high meridian?
"You are faint, Madonna; lean on me."
It was Gonzaga who spoke. But beyond the fact that the words had beenuttered, she realised nothing. She saw an arm advanced, and she took it.Then she dragged Gonzaga with her to the side overlooking the courtyard,that with her own eyes she might have evidence of what was toward.
She heard an oath--a vigorous, wicked oath--from Francesco, followed bya command, sharp and rasping.
"To the armoury yonder, Peppe! Fetch me a two-handed sword--the stoutestyou can find. Ercole, come with me. Gonzaga---- Nay, you had best stayhere. See to Monna Valentina."
He stepped to her side now, and rapidly surveyed the surging scenebelow, where Cappoccio was still addressing the men. At sight ofFrancesco, they raised a fierce yell, as might a pack of dogs that havesighted their quarry.
"To the gates!" was the shout. "Down the draw-bridge! We accept theterms of Gian Maria. We will not die like rats."
"By God, but you shall, if I so will it!" snarled Francesco through hisset teeth. Then turning his head in a fever of impatience "Peppe," heshouted, "will you never bring that sword?"
The fool came up at that moment, staggering under the weight of a great,double-edged two-hander, equipped with lugs, and measuring a good sixfeet from point to pummel. Francesco caught it from him, and bending, hemuttered a swift order in Peppino's ear.
"...In the box that stands upon the table in my chamber," Gonzagaoverheard him say. "Now go, and bring it to me in the yard. Speed you,Peppino!"
A look of understanding flashed up from the hunchback's eyes, and as hedeparted at a run Francesco hoisted the mighty sword to his shoulder asthough its weight were that of a feather. In that instant Valentina'swhite hand was laid upon the brassart that steeled his fore-arm.
"What will you do?" she questioned, in a whisper, her eyes dilating withalarm.
"Stem the treachery of that rabble," he answered shortly. "Stay youhere, Madonna. Fortemani and I will pacify them--or make an end ofthem." And so grimly did he say it that Gonzaga believed it to liewithin his power.
"But you are mad!" she cried, and the fear in her eyes increased. "Whatcan you do against twenty?"
"What God pleases," he answered, and for a second pu
t the ferocity fromhis heart that he might smile reassurance.
"But you will be killed," she cried. "Oh! don't go, don't go! Let themhave their way, Messer Francesco. Let Gian Maria invest the castle. Icare not, so that you do not go."
Her voice, and the tale it told of sweet anxiety for his fate overrulingeverything else in that moment--even her horror of Gian Maria--quickenedhis blood to the pace of ecstasy. He was taken by a wild longing tocatch her in his arms--this lady hitherto so brave and daunted now bythe fear of his peril only. Every fibre of his being urged him to gatherher to his breast, whilst he poured courage and comfort into her ear. Hefainted almost with desire to kiss those tender eyes, upturned to hisin her piteous pleading that he should not endanger his own life. Butsuppressing all, he only smiled, though very tenderly.
"Be brave, Madonna, and trust in me a little. Have I failed you yet?Need you then fear that I shall fail you now?"
At that she seemed to gather courage. The words reawakened herconfidence in his splendid strength.
"We shall laugh over this when we break our fast," he cried. "Come,Ercole!" And without waiting for more, he leapt down the steps with anagility surprising in one so heavily armed as he.
They were no more than in time. As they gained the courtyard themen came sweeping along towards the gates, their voices raucous andthreatening. They were full of assurance. All hell they thought couldnot have hindered them, and yet at sight of that tall figure, brightas an angel, in his panoply of glittering steel, with that great swordpoised on his left shoulder, some of the impetuousness seemed to fallfrom them.
Still they advanced, Cappoccio's voice shouting encouragement. Almostwere they within range of that lengthy sword, when of a sudden itflashed from his shoulder, and swept a half-circle of dazzling lightbefore their eyes. Round his head it went, and back again before them,handled as though it had been a whip, and bringing them, silent, to astandstill. He bore it back to his shoulder, and alert for the firstmovement, his blood on fire, and ready to slay a man or two should theexample become necessary, he addressed them.
"You see what awaits you if you persist in this," he said, in adangerously quiet voice. "Have you no shame, you herd of cowardlyanimals! You are loud-voiced enough where treason to the hand that paysyou is in question; but there, it seems, your valour ends."
He spoke to them now in burning words. He recapitulated the argumentswhich yesterday he had made use of to quell the mutinous spirit ofCappoccio. He assured them that Gian Maria threatened more than he couldaccomplish; and so, perhaps, more than he would fulfil if they were sofoolish as to place themselves in his power. Their safety, he pointedout to them, lay here, behind these walls. The siege could not longendure. They had a stout ally in Caesar Borgia, and he was marchingupon Babbiano by then, so that Gian Maria must get him home perforce erelong. Their pay was good, he reminded them, and if the siege were soonraised they should be well rewarded.
"Gian Maria threatens to hang you when he captures Roccaleone. But evenshould he capture it, do you think he would be allowed to carry out soinhuman a threat? You are mercenaries, after all, in the pay of MonnaValentina, on whom and her captains the blame must fall. This is Urbino,not Babbiano, and Gian Maria is not master here. Do you think the nobleand magnanimous Guidobaldo would let you hang? Have you so poor anopinion of your Duke? Fools! You are as safe from violence as are thoseladies in the gallery up there. For Guidobaldo would no more think ofharming you than of permitting harm to come to them. If any hangingthere is it will be for me, and perhaps for Messer Gonzaga who hiredyou. Yet, do I talk of throwing down my arms? What think you holds mehere? Interest--just as interest holds you--and if I think the riskworth taking, why should not you? Are you so tame and so poor-spiritedthat a threat is to vanquish you? Will you become a byword in Italy, andwhen men speak of cowardice, will you have them say: 'Craven as MonnaValentina's garrison'?"
In this strain he talked to them, now smiting hard with his scorn, nowcajoling them with his assurances, and breeding confidence anew in theirshaken spirits. It was a thing that went afterwards to the making of anepic that was sung from Calabria to Piedmont, how this brave knight,by his words, by the power of his will and the might of his presence,curbed and subdued that turbulent score of rebellious hinds.
And from the wall above Valentina watched him, her eyes sparkling withtears that had not their source in sorrow nor yet in fear, for she knewthat he must prevail. How could it be else with one so dauntless?
Thus thought she now. But in the moment of his going, fear had chilledher to the heart, and when she first saw him take his stand before them,she had turned half-distraught, and begged Gonzaga not to linger at herside, but to go lend what aid he could to that brave knight who stood sosorely in need of it. And Gonzaga had smiled a smile as pale as Januarysunshine, and his soft blue eyes had hardened in their glance. Notweakness now was it that held him there, well out of the dangerousturmoil. For he felt that had he possessed the strength of Hercules, andthe courage of Achilles, he would not in that instant have moved a stepto Francesco's aid. And as much he told her.
"Why should I, Madonna?" he had returned coldly. "Why should I raise ahand to help the man whom you prefer to me? Why should I draw sword inthe cause of this fortress?"
She looked at him with troubled eyes. "What are you saying, my goodGonzaga?"
"Aye--your good Gonzaga!" he mocked her bitterly. "Your lap-dog, yourlute-thrummer; but not man enough to be your captain; not man enough toearn a thought that is kinder than any earned by Peppe or your hounds.I may endanger my neck to serve you, to bring you hither to a place ofsafety from Gian Maria's persecution, and be cast aside for one who, ithappens, has a little more knowledge of this coarse trade of arms. Castme aside if you will," he pursued, with increasing bitterness, "buthaving done so, do not ask me to serve you again. Let Messer Francescofight it out----"
"Hush, Gonzaga!" she interrupted. "Let me hear what he is saying."
And her tone told the courtier that his words had been lost uponthe morning air. Engrossed in the scene below she had not so much aslistened to his bitter tirade. For now Francesco was behaving oddly. Thefool was returned from the errand on which he had been despatched, andFrancesco called him to his side. Lowering his sword he received a paperfrom Peppe's hand.
Burning with indignation at having gone unheeded, Gonzaga stood gnawinghis lip, whilst Valentina craned forward to catch Francesco's words.
"I have here a proof," he cried, "of what I tell you; proof of howlittle Gian Maria is prepared to carry out his threats of cannon. It isthat fellow Cappoccio has seduced you with his talk. And you, like thesheep you are, let yourselves be driven by his foul tongue. Now listento the bribe that Gian Maria offers to one within these walls if he cancontrive a means to deliver Roccaleone into his hands." And to Gonzaga'sparalysing consternation, he heard Francesco read the letter with whichGian Maria had answered his proposed betrayal of the fortress. Hewent white with fear and he leant against the low wall to steadythe tell-tale trembling that had seized him. Then Francesco's voice,scornful and confident, floated up to his ears. "I ask you, my friends,would his Highness of Babbiano be disposed to the payment of athousand gold florins if by bombardment he thought to break a way intoRoccaleone? This letter was written yesterday. Since then we have madea brave display of cannon ourselves; and if yesterday he dared not fire,think you he will to-day? But here, assure yourselves, if there is oneamongst you that can read."
He held out the letter to them. Cappoccio took it, and calling oneAventano, he held it out in his turn. This Aventano, a youth who hadbeen partly educated for the Church, but had fallen from that loftypurpose, now stood forward and took the letter. He scrutinised it, readit aloud, and pronounced it genuine.
"Whom is it addressed to?" demanded Cappoccio.
"Nay, nay!" cried Francesco. "What need for that?"
"Let be," Cappoccio answered, almost fiercely. "If you would have usremain in Roccaleone, let be. Aventano, tell me."
"T
o Messer Romeo Gonzaga," answered the youth, in a voice of wonder.
So evil a light leapt to Cappoccio's eye that Francesco carried his freehand to the sword which he had lowered. But Cappoccio only looked up atGonzaga, and grinned malevolently. It had penetrated his dull wits thathe had been the tool of a judas, who sought to sell the castle for athousand florins. Further than that Cappoccio did not see; nor was hevery resentful, and his grin was rather of mockery than of anger. He wastroubled by no lofty notions of honour that should cause him to see inthis deed of Gonzaga's anything more than such a trickster's act as itis always agreeable to foil. And then, to the others, who knew naughtof what was passing in Cappoccio's mind, he did a mighty strange thing.From being the one to instigate them to treachery and mutiny, he wasthe one now to raise his voice in a stout argument of loyalty. He agreedwith all that Messer Francesco had said, and he, for one, ranged himselfon Messer Francesco's side to defend the gates from any traitors whosought to open them to Gian Maria Sforza.
His defection from the cause of mutiny was the signal for the utterabandoning of that cause itself, and another stout ally came opportunelyto weigh in Francesco's favour was the fact that the half-hour of gracewas now elapsed, and Gian Maria's guns continued silent. He drew theirattention to the fact with a laugh, and bade them go in peace, addingthe fresh assurance that those guns would not speak that day, nor thenext, nor indeed ever.
Utterly conquered by Francesco and--perhaps even more--by his unexpectedally, Cappoccio, they slunk shamefacedly away to the food and drink thathe bade them seek at Fra Domenico's hands.