CHAPTER X. THE NUPTIALS OF BIANCA
An awful thought was in my mind as we went, evoked by the presence insuch a place of one of the Duke's gentlemen; an awful question roseagain and again to my lips, and yet I could not bring myself to utterit.
So we went on in utter silence now, my hand upon his shoulder, clutchingvelvet doublet and flesh and bone beneath it, my dagger bare in my otherhand.
We crossed an antechamber whose heavy carpet muffled our footsteps, andwe halted before tapestry curtains that masked a door, Here, curbing myfierce impatience, I paused. I signed to the five attendant soldiers tocome no farther; then I consigned the courtier who had guided us to thecare of Falcone, and I restrained Cavalcanti, who was shaking from headto foot.
I raised the heavy, muffling curtain, and standing there an instant bythe door, I heard my Bianca's voice, and her words seemed to freeze thevery marrow in my bones.
"O, my lord," she was imploring in a choking voice, "O, my lord, havepity on me!"
"Sweet," came the answer, "it is I who beseech pity at your hands. Doyou not see how I suffer? Do you not see how fiercely love of you istorturing me--how I burn--that you can so cruelly deny me?"
It was Farnese's voice. Cosimo, that dastard, had indeed carried out thehorrible compact of which Giuliana had warned me, carried it out ina more horrible and inhuman manner than even she had suggested orsuspected.
Cavalcanti would have hurled himself against the door but that I set ahand upon his arm to restrain him, and a finger of my other hand--theone that held the dagger--to my lips.
Softly I tried the latch. I was amazed to find the door yield. And yet,where was the need to lock it? What interruption could he have feared ina house that evidently had been delivered over to him by the bridegroom,a house that was in the hands of his own people?
Very quietly I thrust the door open, and we stood there upon thethreshold--Cavalcanti and I--father and lover of that sweet maid who wasthe prey of this foul Duke. We stood whilst a man might count a dozen,silent witnesses of that loathsome scene.
The bridal chamber was all hung in golden arras, save the great carvedbed which was draped in dead-white velvet and ivory damask--symbolizingthe purity of the sweet victim to be offered up upon that sacrificialaltar.
And to that dread sacrifice she had come--for my sake, as I was tolearn--with the fearful willingness of Iphigenia. For that sacrifice shehad been prepared; but not for this horror that was thrust upon her now.
She crouched upon a tall-backed praying-stool, her gown not more whitethan her face, her little hands convulsively clasped to make her prayerto that monster who stood over her, his mottled face all flushed,his eyes glowing as they considered her helplessness and terror withhorrible, pitiless greed.
Thus we observed them, ourselves unperceived for some moments, forthe praying-stool on which she crouched was placed to the left, by thecowled fire-place, in which a fire of scented wood was crackling, thescene lighted by two golden candlebranches that stood upon the tablenear the curtained window.
"O, my lord!" she cried in her despair, "of your mercy leave me, and noman shall ever know that you sought me thus. I will be silent, my lord.O, if you have no pity for me, have, at least, pity for yourself. Do notcover yourself with the infamy of such a deed--a deed that will make youhateful to all men."
"Gladly at such a price would I purchase your love, my Bianca! Whatpains could daunt me? Ah, you are mine, you are mine!"
As the hawk that has been long poised closes its wings and drops atlast upon its prey, so swooped he of a sudden down upon her, caught anddragged her up from the praying-stool to crush her to him.
She screamed in that embrace, and sought to battle, swinging round sothat her back was fully towards us, and Farnese, swinging round also inthat struggle, faced us and beheld us.
It was as if a mask had been abruptly plucked from his face, so suddenand stupendous was its alteration. From flushed that it had been it grewlivid and sickly; the unholy fires were spent in his eyes, and they grewdull and dead as a snake's; his jaw was loosened, and the sensual mouthlooked unutterably foolish.
For a moment I think I smiled upon him, and then Cavalcanti and I sprangforward, both together. As we moved, his arms loosened their hold, andBianca would have fallen but that I caught her.
Her terror still upon her, she glanced upwards to see what fresh enemywas this, and then, at sight of my face, as my arms closed about her,and held her safe--
"Agostino!" she cried, and closed her eyes to lie panting on my breast.
The Duke, fleeing like a scared rat before the anger of Cavalcanti,scuttled down the room to a small door in the wall that held thefire-place. He tore it open and sprang through, Cavalcanti followingrecklessly.
There was a snarl and a cry, and the Lord of Pagliano staggered back,clutching one hand to his breast, and through his fingers came an oozeof blood. Falcone ran to him. But Cavalcanti swore like a man possessed.
"It is nothing!" he snapped. "By the horns of Satan! it is nothing. Aflesh wound, and like a fool I gave back before it. After him! In there!Kill! Kill!"
Out came Falcone's sword with a swish, and into the dark closet beyondwent the equerry with a roar, Cavalcanti after him.
It seemed that scarce had Farnese got within that closet than,flattening himself against the wall, he had struck at Cavalcanti as thelatter followed, thus driving him back and gaining all the respite heneeded. For now they found the closet empty. There was a door beyond,that opened to a corridor, and this was locked. Not a doubt but thatFarnese had gone that way. They broke that door down. I heard them atit what time I comforted Bianca, and soothed her, stroking her head,her cheek, and murmuring fondly to her until presently she was weepingsoftly.
Thus Cavalcanti and Falcone found us presently when they returned.Farnese had escaped with one of his gentlemen who had reached him intime to warn him that the street was full of soldiers and the palaceitself invaded. Thereupon the Duke had dropped from one of the windowsto the garden, his gentleman with him, and Cavalcanti had been no morethan in time to see them disappearing through the garden gate.
The Lord of Pagliano's buff-coat was covered with blood where Pier Luigihad stabbed him. But he would give the matter no thought. He was like atiger now. He dashed out into the antechamber, and I heard him bellowingorders. Someone screamed horribly, and then followed a fierce din as ifthe very place were coming down about our ears.
"What is it?" cried Bianca, quivering in my arms. "Are... are theyfighting?"
"I do not think so, sweet," I answered her. "We are in great strength.Have no fear."
And then Falcone came in again.
"The Lord of Pagliano is raging like a madman," he said. "We had best begetting away or we shall have a brush with the Captain of Justice."
Supporting Bianca, I led her from that chamber.
"Where are we going?" she asked me.
"Home to Pagliano," I answered her, and with that answer comforted thatsorely tried maid.
We found the antechamber in wreckage. The great chandelier had beendragged from the ceiling, pictures were slashed and cut to ribbons, thearras had been torn from the walls and the costly furniture was reducedto fire-wood; the double-windows opening to the balcony stood wide, andnot a pane of glass left whole, the fragments lying all about the place.
Thus, it seemed, childishly almost, had Cavalcanti vented his terriblerage, and I could well conceive what would have befallen any of theDuke's people upon whom in that hour he had chanced. I did not knowthen that the poor pimp who had acted as our guide was hanging from thebalcony dead, nor that his had been the horrible scream I had heard.
On the stairs we met the raging Cavalcanti reascending, the stump of hisshivered sword in his hand.
"Hasten!" he cried. "I was coming for you. Let us begone!"
Below, just within the main doors we found a pile of furniture set on aheap of straw.
"What is this?" I asked.
"You shall see," he roa
red. "Get to horse."
I hesitated a moment, then obeyed him, and took Bianca on the withers infront of me, my arm about her to support her.
Then he called to one of the men-at-arms who stood by with a flaringtorch. He snatched the brand from his hand, and stabbed the straw withit in a dozen places, from each of which there leapt at once a tongue offlame. When, at last, he flung the torch into the heart of the pile, itwas all a roaring, hissing, crackling blaze.
He stood back and laughed. "If there are any more of his brothel-matesin the house, they can escape as he did. They will be more fortunatethan that one." And he pointed up to the limp figure hanging from thebalcony, so that I now learnt what already I have told you.
With my hand I screened Bianca's eyes. "Do not look," I bade her.
I shuddered at the sight of that limply hanging body. And yet Ireflected that it was just. Any man who could have lent his aid to thefoul crime that was attempted there that night deserved this fate andworse.
Cavalcanti got to horse, and we rode down the street, bringing folk totheir windows in alarm. Behind us the flames began to lick out from theground floor of Cosimo's palace.
We reached the Porta Fodesta, and peremptorily bade the guard to openfor us. He answered, as became his duty, with the very words that hadbeen addressed to me at that place on a night two years ago:
"None passes out to-night."
In an instant a group of our men surrounded him, others made a livingbarrier before the guard-house, whilst two or three dismounted, drew thebolts, and dragged the great gates open.
We rode on, crossing the river, and heading straight for Pagliano.
For a while it was the sweetest ride that ever I rode, with myBianca nestling against my breast, and responding faintly to all thefoolishness that poured from me in that ambrosial hour.
And then it seemed to me that we rode not by night but in the blazinglight of day, along a dusty road, flanking an arid, sun-drenched stretchof the Campagna; and despite the aridity there must be water somewhere,for I heard it thundering as the Bagnanza had thundered after rain, andyet I knew that could not be the Bagnanza, for the Bagnanza was nowherein the neighbourhood of Rome.
Suddenly a great voice, and I knew it for the voice of Bianca, called meby name.
"Agostino!"
The vision was dissipated. It was night again and we were riding forPagliano through the fertile lands of ultra-Po; and there was Biancaclutching at my breast and uttering my name in accents of fear, whilstthe company about me was halting.
"What is it?" cried Cavalcanti. "Are you hurt?" I understood. I had beendozing in the saddle, and I must have rolled out of it but that Biancaawakened me with her cry. I said so.
"Body of Satan!" he swore. "To doze at such a time!"
"I have scarce been out of the saddle for three days and threenights--this is the fourth," I informed him. "I have had but three hours'sleep since we left Rome. I am done," I admitted. "You, sir, had besttake your daughter. She is no longer safe with me."
It was so. The fierce tension which had banished sleep from me whilstthese things were doing, being now relaxed, left me exhausted asGaleotto had been at Bologna. And Galeotto had urged me to halt and restthere! He had begged for twelve hours! I could now thank Heaven from afull heart for having given me the strength and resolution to ride on,for those twelve hours would have made all the difference between Heavenand Hell.
Cavalcanti himself would not take her, confessing to some weakness. Forall that he insisted that his wound was not serious, yet he had lostmuch blood through having neglected in his rage to stanch it. So it wasto Falcone that fell the charge of that sweet burden.
The last thing I remember was Cavalcanti's laugh, as, from the highground we had mounted, he stopped to survey a ruddy glare above the cityof Piacenza, where, in a vomit of sparks, Cosimo's fine palace was beingconsumed.
Then we rode down into the valley again; and as we went the thud ofhooves grew more and more distant, and I slept in the saddle as I rode,a man-at-arms on either side of me, so that I remember no more of thedoings of that strenuous night.