CHAPTER V.
COUNT ANTONIO AND THE SACRED BONES.
There is one tale concerning Count Antonio of Monte Velluto, when hedwelt an outlaw in the hills, which men tell with fear and doubt,marvelling at the audacity of his act, and sometimes asking themselveswhether he would in very truth have performed what he swore on the faithof his honour he would do, in case the Duke did not accede to hisdemands. For the thing he threatened was such as no man of Firmola daresthink on without a shudder; for we of Firmola prize and reverence thebones of our saint, the holy martyr Prisian, above and far beyond everyother relic, and they are to us as it were the sign and testimony ofGod's enduring favour to our country. But much will a man do for love ofa woman, and Antonio's temper brooked no obstacle: so that I, who knowall the truth of the matter, may not doubt that he would have done evenas he said, braving the wrath of Heaven and making naught of the terrorand consternation that had fallen on the city and the parts round aboutit. Whether that thought of his heart was such as would gain pardon, Iknow not: had the thing been done, I could scarce hope even in Heaven'sinfinite mercy. Yet this story also I must tell, lest I be charged withcovering up what shames Antonio; for with the opinions of careless andfaithless men (who are too many in this later age) I have no communion,and I tell the tale not to move laughter or loose jests, but rather thatI may show to what extremity a man in nature good may be driven byharshness and the unmerited disfavour of his Prince.
In the third year, then, of Count Antonio's outlawry, His Highness theDuke looked on the Lady Lucia and found that she was of full age formarriage. Therefore he resolved that she should be wed, and, sinceRobert de Beauregard, to whom he had purposed to give her, was dead, hechose from among his lords a certain gentleman of great estate and afavourite of his, by name Lorenzo, and sent word to Lucia that she hadspent too much of her youth pining for what could not be hers, and mustforthwith receive Lorenzo for her husband. But Lucia, being by now awoman and no more a timid girl, returned to His Highness a message thatshe would look on no other man than Antonio. On this the Duke, greatlyincensed, sent and took her, and set her in a convent within the citywalls, and made her know that there she should abide till her life'send, or until she should obey his command; and he charged the Abbess totreat her harshly and to break down her pride: and he swore that sheshould wed Lorenzo; or, if she were obstinate, then she should take thevows of a nun in the convent. Many weeks the Lady Lucia abode in theconvent, resisting all that was urged upon her. But at last, finding nohelp from Antonio, being sore beset and allowed no rest, she broke oneday into passionate and pitiful weeping, and bade the Abbess tell HisHighness that, since happiness was not for her in this world, she wouldseek to find it in Heaven, and would take the vows, rendering all herestate into the Duke's hand, that he might have it, and give it toLorenzo or to whom he would. Which message being told to Duke Valentine,weary of contending with her, and perchance secretly fearing thatAntonio would slay Lorenzo as he had slain Robert, he cursed her for anobstinate wench, and bade her take the vows, and set a day for her totake them: but her estate he assumed into his own hand, and made fromout of it a gift of great value to Lorenzo. And Lorenzo, they say, waswell content thus to be quit of the matter. "For," said he, "while thatdevil is loose in the hills, no peace would there have been for thelady's husband."
But when it came to the ears of Count Antonio that the Lady Lucia was totake the veil on the morrow of the feast of St. Prisian, his rage andaffliction knew no bounds. "If need be," he cried, "I will attack thecity with all my men, before I will suffer it."
"Your men would be all killed, and she would take the veil none theless," said Tommasino. For Antonio had but fifty men, and although theywere stout fellows and impossible to subdue so long as they stayed inthe hills, yet their strength would have been nothing against a fortressand the Duke's array.
"Then," said Antonio, "I will go alone and die alone."
As he spoke, he perceived Martolo coming to him, and, calling him, heasked him what he would. Now Martolo was a devout man and had been muchgrieved when Antonio had fallen under a sentence of excommunication byreason of a certain quarrel that he had with the Abbot of the Abbey ofSt. Prisian in the hills, wherein the Count had incurred thecondemnation of the Church, refusing, as his way was, to admit any rulesave of his own conscience. Yet Martolo abode with Antonio from love ofhim. And now he bowed and answered, "My lord, in three days it is thefeast of St. Prisian, and the sacred bones will then be carried from theshrine in the church of the saint at Rilano to the city." For it was atRilano that Prisian had suffered, and a rich church had been built onthe spot.
"I remember that it is wont to be so, Martolo," answered the Count.
"When I dwelt with my father," said Martolo, "I was accustomed to goforth with all the people of my village and meet the sacred bones, andkneeling, receive the benediction from the Lord Archbishop as he passed,bearing the bones in their golden casket. And the like I would do thisyear, my lord."
"But are you not excommunicated in company with Count Antonio and me?"asked Tommasino, lightly smiling; for Tommasino also stood condemned.
"I pray not. I was not named in the sentence," said Martolo, signing thecross.
"Go in peace, Martolo; but see that you are not taken by the Duke'smen," said Count Antonio.
"But few of them go with the Archbishop, my lord. For who would layhands on the sacred bones? The guard is small, and I shall easily eludethem." So Martolo departed, and told the man they called Bena what hadpassed; but Bena was a graceless fellow and would not go with him.
Now when Martolo was gone, Count Antonio sat down on a great stone andfor a long while he said nothing to Tommasino. But certain words out ofthose which Martolo had spoken were echoing through his brain, and hecould not put them aside; for they came again and again and again; andat last, looking up at Tommasino who stood by him, he said, "Tommasino,who would lay hands on the sacred bones?"
Tommasino looked down into his eyes; then he laid a hand on hisshoulder; and Antonio still looked up and repeated, "Who would lay handson the sacred bones?"
Tommasino's eyes grew round in wonder: he smiled, but his smile wasuneasy, and he shifted his feet. "Is it that you think of, Antonio?" heasked in a low voice. "Beside it, it would be a light thing to kill theDuke in his own palace."
Then Antonio cried, striking his fist on the palm of his hand, "Are deadbones more sacred than that living soul on which the Duke lays hands toforce it to his will?"
"The people reverence the bones as God Himself," said Tommasino,troubled.
"I also reverence them," said Antonio, and fell again into thought. Butpresently he rose and took Tommasino's arm, and for a long while theywalked to and fro. Then they went and sought out certain chosen men ofthe band; for the greater part they dared not trust in such a matter,but turned only to them that were boldest and recked least of sacredthings. To ten of such Antonio opened his counsel; and by great rewardshe prevailed on them to come into the plan, although they were, for alltheir boldness, very sore afraid lest they, laying hands on the bones,should be smitten as was he who touched the Ark of the Covenant.Therefore Antonio said, "I alone will lay hands on the golden casket;the rest of you shall but hold me harmless while I take it."
"But if the Lord Archbishop will not let it go?"
"The Lord Archbishop," said Tommasino, "will let it go." For Tommasinodid not love the Archbishop, because he would not remove the sentence ofexcommunication which he had laid upon Antonio and Tommasino on theprayer of the Abbot of St. Prisian's.
Now when the feast of St. Prisian was come, the Lord Archbishop, who hadridden from the city on the eve of the feast, and had lodged in thehouse of the priests that served the church, went with all his traininto the church, and, the rest standing afar off and veiling their eyes,took from the wall of the church, near by the High Altar, the goldencasket that held the bones of the blessed St. Prisian. And he wrappedthe casket in a rich cloth and held it high before him in his two hands.An
d when the people had worshipped, the Archbishop left the church andentered his chair and passed through the village of Rilano, the priestsand attendants going first, and twelve of the Duke's Guard, whom theDuke had sent, following after. Great was the throng of folk, come fromall the country round to gaze on the casket and on the procession of theLord Archbishop; and most devout of them all was Martolo, who rested onhis knees from the moment the procession left the church till it wasclear of the village. And Martolo was still on his knees when he beheldgo by him a party of peasants, all, save one, tall and powerful men,wearing peasants' garb and having their faces overshadowed by largehats. These men also had knelt as the casket passed, but they had risen,and were marching shoulder to shoulder behind the men of the Duke'sGuard, a peasant behind every pikeman. Martolo gazed long at them; thenhe moistened his lips and crossed himself, murmuring, "What does thisthing mean? Now God forbid----!" And, breaking off thus, he also roseand went to the house of his father, sore vexed and troubled to knowwhat the thing might mean. But he spoke of it to none, no, not to hisfather, observing the vow of secrecy in all matters which he had made toCount Antonio.
At the bounds of the village the greater part of the people ceased tofollow the procession of the sacred bones, and, having received theArchbishop's blessing, turned back to their own homes, where theyfeasted and made merry; but the twelve peasants whom Martolo had seenfollowed the procession when it set forth for the next village, distantthree miles on the road to Firmola. Their air manifested greatdevotion, for they walked with heads bent on their breasts and downcasteyes, and they spoke not once on the way; but each kept close behind apikeman. When the procession had gone something more than a mile fromthe village of Rilano, it came where a little stream crosses thehighway; and the rains having been heavy for a week before, the streamwas swollen and the ford deeper than it was wont to be. Therefore theofficer of the Guard, thinking of no danger, bade six of his men laydown their pikes and go lift the Archbishop's chair over the ford, lestthe Archbishop should be wetted by the water. And on hearing this order,the tallest among the peasants put his hand up to his hat and twistedthe feather of it between his thumb and his forefinger: and the shortestof them whispered, "The sign! The sign!" while every man of them drew agreat dagger from under his habit and held it behind his back. Now bythis time the priests and attendants had passed the ford; and one-halfof the Guard had laid down their pikes and were gone to raise theArchbishop's chair, the remainder standing at their ease, leaning ontheir pikes and talking to one another. Again the tallest peasanttwisted the feather in his hat; and without speech or cry the peasantsdarted forward. Six of them seized the pikes that lay on the ground; theremaining six sprang like wild-cats on the backs of the pikemen,circling the necks of the pikemen with their arms, pulling them back andcoming near to throttling them, so that the pikemen, utterly amazed andtaken full at disadvantage, staggered and fell backward, while thepeasants got on the top of them and knelt on their breasts and set thegreat daggers at their hearts. While this passed on the road, theremainder of Antonio's band--for such were the peasants--rushed into thestream and compelled the unarmed pikemen to set down the Archbishop'schair in the midst, so that the water came in at the windows of thechair; and the pikemen, held at bay with their own pikes, sought to drawtheir poniards, but Antonio cried, "Slay any that draw!" And he came tothe chair and opened the door of it, and, using as little force as hemight, he laid hands on the casket that held the sacred bones, andwrested it from the feeble hands of the Archbishop. Then he and his men,standing in line, stepped backwards with the pikes levelled in front ofthem till they came out of the water and on to the dry road again; andone pikeman rushed at Antonio, but Tommasino, sparing to kill him,caught him a buffet on the side of the head with a pike, and he felllike a log in the water, and had been drowned, but that two of hiscomrades lifted him. Then all twelve of the band being together--for thefirst six had risen now from off the six pikemen, having forced them, onpain of instant death, to deliver over their pikes to them--Antonio,with the casket in his hands, spoke in a loud voice, "I thank God thatno man is dead over this business; but if you resist, you shall die oneand all. Go to the city; tell the Duke that I, Antonio of Monte Velluto,have the bones of the blessed St. Prisian, and carry them with me to myhiding-place in the highest parts of the hills. But if he will swear bythese bones that I hold, and by his princely word, that he will notsuffer the Lady Lucia to take the vows, nor will constrain her to wedany man, but will restore her to her own house and to her estate, thenlet him send the Archbishop again, and I will deliver up the sacredbones. But if he will not swear, then, as God lives, to-morrow, atmidnight, I will cause a great fire to be kindled on the top of thehills--a fire whose flame you shall see from the walls of the city--andin that fire will I consume the sacred bones, and I will scatter theashes of them to the four winds. Go and bear the message that I give youto the Duke."
And, having thus said, Antonio, with his men, turned and went back at arun along the road by which they had come; but to the village of Rilanothey did not go, but turned aside before they came to it, and, coming tothe farm of one who knew Antonio, they bought of him, paying him in goodcoin of the Duchy, three horses, which Antonio, Tommasino, and Benamounted; and they three rode hard for the hills, the rest following asquickly as they might; so that by nightfall they were all safelyassembled in their hiding-place, and with them the bones of the blessedSt. Prisian. But they told not yet to the rest of the band what it wasthat Antonio carried under his cloak; nor did Martolo, when he returnedfrom Rilano, ask what had befallen, but he crossed himself many timesand wore a fearful look.
But Tommasino came to Antonio and said to him, "Why did you not ask alsopardon for all of us, and for yourself the hand of Lucia?"
"A great thing, and a thing that troubles me, I have done already,"answered Antonio. "Therefore I will ask nothing for myself, and nothingmay I ask for you or for my friends. But if I ask nothing save thatright and justice be done, it may be that my sin in laying hands on thesacred bones will be the less."
Now after Antonio and his men were gone, the Archbishop's train stayedlong by the stream on the road, lamenting and fearing to go forward. Yetat last they went forward, and being come to the next village found allthe people awaiting them at the bounds. And when the people saw thedisorder of the procession, and that the pikemen had no pikes, they ranforward, eagerly asking what had befallen; and learning of thecalamity, they were greatly afraid and cursed Antonio; and many of themaccompanied the Archbishop on his way to the city, whence he cametowards evening. A great concourse of people awaited his coming there,and the Duke himself sat on a lofty seat in the great square, preparedto receive the sacred bones, and go with them to the Cathedral, wherethey were to be exposed to the gaze of the people at High Mass. And theyset the Archbishop's chair down before the Duke's seat, and theArchbishop came and stood before the Duke, and his priests and thepikemen with him. And the Duke started up from his seat, crying, "Whatails you?" and sank back again, and sat waiting to hear what theArchbishop should say.
Then the Archbishop, his robes still damp and greatly disordered, hislimbs trembling in anger and in fear, raised his voice; and all themultitude in the square was silent while he declared to His Highnesswhat things Count Antonio had done, and rehearsed the message that hehad sent. But when the Archbishop told how Antonio had sworn that asGod lived he would scatter the ashes of the sacred bones to the winds,the men caught their breath with a gasp, while the women murmuredaffrightedly, "Christ save us;" and Duke Valentine dug the nails of hishand, whereon his head rested, into the flesh of his cheek. For all thecity held that, according to the words St. Prisian himself had utteredbefore he suffered, the power and prosperity of the Duchy and the favourof Heaven to it rested on the presence among them and the faithfulpreservation and veneration of those most holy relics. And theArchbishop, having ended the message, cried, "God pardon my lips thatrepeat such words," and fell on his knees before Duke Valentine, crying,"Justice on him, my
lord, justice!" And many in the throng echoed hiscry; but others, and among them a great part of the apprenticed lads wholoved Antonio, muttered low one to another, "But the Duke has taken hissweetheart from him," and they looked on the Duke with no favourableeye.
Then Duke Valentine rose from his seat and stood on the topmost stepthat led to it, and he called sundry of his lords and officers roundhim, and then he beckoned for silence, and he said, "Before the sun setsto-morrow, the Lady Lucia shall take the vows;" and he, with his train,took their way to the palace, the pikemen clearing a path for them. Andnow indeed was silence; for all marvelled and were struck dumb that theDuke said naught concerning the bones of St. Prisian, and they searchedone another's faces for the meaning of his words. But the Archbishoparose, and, speaking to no man, went to the Cathedral, and knelt beforethe altar in the chapel of St. Prisian, and there abode on his knees.
Surely never, from that day until this hour, has such a night passed inthe city of Firmola. For the Duke sent orders that every man of hisGuard should be ready to start at break of day in pursuit of Antonio,and through the hours of the evening they were busied in preparing theirprovisions and accoutrements. But their looks were heavy and theirtongues tied, for they knew, every man of them, that though the Dukemight at the end take Antonio, yet he could not come at him before thetime that Antonio had said. And this the townsmen knew well also; andthey gathered themselves in groups in the great square, saying, "Beforethe Duke comes at him, the sacred bones will be burnt, and what willthen befall the Duchy?" And those who were friendly to Antonio, foremostamong them being the apprenticed lads, spread themselves here and thereamong the people, asking cunningly whether it concerned the people ofFirmola more that the blessing of St. Prisian should abide with them, orthat a reluctant maiden should be forced to take the veil; and some grewbold to whisper under their breath that the business was a foul one, andthat Heaven did not send beauty and love that priests should bury themin convent walls. And the girls of the city, ever most bold by reason oftheir helplessness, stirred up the young men who courted them, leadingthem on and saying, "He is a true lover who risks his soul for hislove;" or, "I would I had one who would steal the bones of St. Prisianfor my sake, but none such have I:" with other stirring and inflamingtaunts, recklessly flung from pouting lips and from under eyes thatchallenged. And all the while Duke Valentine sat alone in his cabinet,listening to the tumult that sounded with muffled din through the wallsof the palace.
Now there was in the city a certain furrier named Peter, a turbulentfellow who had been put out of his craft-guild because he would notabide by the laws of the craft, and lived now as he best could, beingmaintained in large measure by those who listened to his empty andseditious conversation. This man, loving naught that there was worthy oflove in Count Antonio, yet loved him because he defied the Duke; andabout midnight, having drunk much wine, he came into the square andgathered together the apprentices, saying, "I have a matter to say toyou--and to you--and to you," till there were many scores of them roundhim: then he harangued them, and more came round; and when at last Petercried, "Give us back the sacred bones!" a thousand voices answered him,"Aye, give us back the bones!" And when the pikemen would have seizedhim, men, and women also, made a ring round him, so that he could notbe taken. And sober men also, of age and substance, hearkened to him,saying, "He is a knave, but he speaks truth now." So that a very greatthrong assembled, every man having a staff, and many also knives; and tothose that had not knives, the women and girls brought them, thrustingthem into their hands; nay, sundry priests also were among the people,moaning and wringing their hands, and saying that the favour of St.Prisian would be lost for ever to the city. And the square was thronged,so that a man could not move unless all moved, nor raise his hand to hishead save by the favour of his neighbour. Yet presently the whole massbegan to move, like a great wave of water, towards the Palace of theDuke, where the pikemen stood in ranks, ready now to go against Antonio.Suddenly arose a cry, "The Archbishop comes!" and the venerable man wasseen, led through the crowd by Peter and some more, who brought him andset him in the front ranks of the people; and Peter cried boldly, "Whereis the Duke?" But the Captain of the Guard came forward, sword in hand,and bade Peter be still, cursing him for insolence, and shouted thatthe people should disperse on pain of His Highness's displeasure. "Whereis the Duke? Let him come out to us!" cried Peter; and the captain,despising him, struck him lightly with the flat of his sword. But Peterwith a cry of rage struck the captain a great blow with his staff, andthe captain staggered back, blood flowing from his head. Such was thebeginning of the fray; for in an instant the pikemen and the people hadjoined battle: men cried in anger and women in fright: blood flowed, andsundry on both sides fell and rose no more; and the Archbishop came nearto being trodden under foot till his friends and the priests gatheredround him; and when he saw that men were being slain, he wept.
Then the lord Lorenzo hastened to the cabinet of the Duke, whom he foundpacing up and down, gnawing his finger-nails, and told him of what wasdone outside.
"I care not," said the Duke. "She shall take the vows! Let the pikemenscatter them."
Lorenzo then besought him, telling him that all the city was in arms,and that the conflict would be great. But the Duke said still, "Sheshall take the vows!" Nevertheless he went with Lorenzo, and came forthon to the topmost step of the portico. And when the people saw him theyceased for a moment to assail the pikemen, and cried out, "Give us backthe sacred bones!"
"Scatter these fellows!" said the Duke to the Captain of the Guard.
"My lord, they are too many. And if we scatter them now, yet when wehave gone against Count Antonio, they may do what they will with thecity."
The Duke stood still, pale, and again gnawing his nails; and thepikemen, finding the fight hard, gave back before the people; and thepeople pressed on.
Then Peter the furrier came forward, and the hottest with him, andmocked the pikemen; and one of the pikemen suddenly thrust Peter throughwith his pike, and the fellow fell dead; on which a great cry of ragerose from all the people, and they rushed on the pikemen again and slewand were slain; and the fight rolled up the steps even to the very feetof the Duke himself. And at last, able no longer to contend with all thecity, he cried, "Hold! I will restore the sacred bones!" But the peoplewould not trust him and one cried, "Bring out the lady here before usand set her free, or we will burn the palace." And the Archbishop camesuddenly and threw himself on his knees before the Duke, beseeching himthat no more blood might be shed, but that the Lady Lucia should be setfree. And the Duke, now greatly afraid, sent hastily the Lieutenant ofthe Guard and ten men, who came to the convent where Lucia was, and,brooking no delay, carried her with them in her bedgown, and brought andset her beside the Duke in the portico of the palace. Then the Dukeraised his hand to heaven, and before all the people he said, "Behold,she is free! Let her go to her own house, and her estate shall be hersagain. And by my princely word and these same holy bones, I swear thatshe shall not take the vows, neither will I constrain her to wed anyman." And when he had said this, he turned sharply round on his heel,and, looking neither to the right nor to the left, went through thegreat hall to his cabinet and shut the door. For his heart was very sorethat he must yield to Antonio's demand, and for himself he had rather athousand times that the bones of St. Prisian had been burnt.
Now when the Duke was gone, the people brought the Lady Lucia to her ownhouse, driving out the steward whom the Duke had set there, and, thisdone, they came to the Archbishop, and would not suffer him to rest orto delay one hour before he set forth to carry the Duke's promise toAntonio. This the Archbishop was ready to do, for all that he was weary.But first he sent Lorenzo to ask the Duke's pleasure; and Lorenzo,coming to the Duke, prayed him to send two hundred pikes with theArchbishop. "For," said he, "your Highness has sworn nothing concerningwhat shall befall Antonio; and so soon as he has delivered up the bones,I will set on him and bring him alive or dead to your Highness."
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p; But the Duke would not hearken. "The fellow's name is like stale leesof wine in my mouth," said he. "Ten of my pikemen lie dead in thesquare, and more of the citizens. I will lose no more men over it."
"Yet how great a thing if we could take him!"
"I will take him at my own time and in my own way," said the Duke. "InGod's name, leave me now."
Lorenzo therefore got from the Duke leave for but ten men to go with theArchbishop, and to go himself if he would. And thus they set out,exhorted by the people, who followed them beyond the bounds of the city,to make all speed. And when they were gone, the people came back andtook up the bodies of the dead; while the pikemen also took up thebodies of such of their comrades as were slain.
Yet had Duke Valentine known what passed on the hills while the city wasin tumult, it may not be doubted, for all his vexation, that he wouldhave sent the two hundred whom Lorenzo asked: never had he a fairerchance to take Antonio. For when the Count and those who had been withhim to Rilano were asleep, Antonio's head resting on the golden casket,a shepherd came to the rest of the band and told them what had been doneand how all the country was in an uproar. Then a debate arose amongstthe band, for, though they were lawless men, yet they feared God, andthought with great dread on what Antonio had sworn; so that presentlythey came altogether, and aroused Antonio, and said to him, "My lord,you have done much for us, and it may be that we have done somewhat foryou. But we will not suffer the sacred bones to be burnt and scatteredto the winds."
"Except the Duke yields, I have sworn it, as God lives," answeredAntonio.
"We care not. It shall not be, no, not though you and we die," saidthey.
"It is well; I hear," said Antonio, bowing his head.
"In an hour," said they, "we will take the bones, if you will notyourself, my lord, send them back."
"Again I hear," said Antonio, bowing his head; and the band went back tothe fire round which they had been sitting, all save Martolo, who cameand put his hand in Antonio's hand.
"How now, Martolo?" asked Antonio.
"What you will, I will, my lord," said Martolo. For though he trembledwhen he thought of the bones of St. Prisian, yet he clung always toAntonio. As for Bena and the others of the ten who had gone to Rilano,they would now have burnt not the bones only, but the blessed sainthimself, had Antonio bidden them. Hard men, in truth, were they, and themore reckless now, because no harm had come to them from the seizing ofthe bones; moreover Antonio had given them good wine for supper, andthey drank well.
Now the rest of the band being gone back to their fire and the nightbeing very dark, in great silence and caution Antonio, Tommasino,Martolo, Bena, and their fellows--being thirteen in all--rose from theirplaces, and taking naught with them but their swords (save that Antoniocarried the golden casket), they stole forth from the camp, and settheir faces to climb yet higher into the heights of the hills. Nonespoke; one following another, they climbed the steep path that led upthe mountain side; and when they had been going for the space of anhour, they heard a shout from far below them.
"Our flight is known," said Tommasino.
"Shall we stand and meet them, my lord?" asked Bena.
"Nay, not yet," said Antonio; and the thirteen went forward again at thebest speed they could.
Now they were in a deep gorge between lofty cliffs; and the gorge stilltended upwards; and at length they came to the place which is now named"Antonio's Neck." There the rocks came nigh to meeting and utterlybarring the path; yet there is a way that one man, or at most two, maypass through at one time. Along this narrow tongue they passed, and,coming to the other side, found a level space on the edge of a greatprecipice, and Antonio pointing over the precipice, they saw in thelight of the day, which now was dawning, the towers and spires ofFirmola very far away in the plain below.
"It is a better place for the fire than the other," said Antonio; andBena laughed, while Martolo shivered.
"Yet we risk being hindered by these fellows behind," said Tommasino.
"Nay, I think not," said Antonio.
Then he charged Tommasino and all of them to busy themselves incollecting such dry sticks and brushwood as they could; and there wasabundance near, for the fir-trees grew even so high. And one of the menalso went and set a snare, and presently caught a wild goat, so thatthey had meat. But Antonio took Bena and set him on one side of the waywhere the neck opened out into the level space; and he stood on theother side of the way himself. And when they stretched out their arms,the point of Bena's sword reached the hilt of Antonio's. And Antoniosmiled, saying to Bena, "He had need to be a thin man, Bena, that passesbetween you and me."
And Bena nodded his head at Count Antonio, answering, "Indeed this is asstrait as the way to heaven, my lord, and leads, as it seems to me, inmuch the same direction."
Thus Antonio and Bena waited in the shelter of the rocks at the openingof the neck, while the rest built up a great pile of wood. Then, havingroasted the meat, they made their breakfast, Martolo carrying portionsto Antonio and to Bena. And, their pursuers not knowing the path so welland therefore moving less quickly, it was but three hours short of noonwhen they heard the voices of men from the other side of the neck. AndAntonio cried straightway, "Come not through at your peril! Yet one maycome and speak with me."
Then a great fellow, whose name is variously given, though most of thosewhom I have questioned call him Sancho, came through the neck, and,reaching the end of it, found the crossed swords of Antonio and Benalike a fence against his breast. And he saw also the great pile of wood,and resting now on the top of it the golden casket that held the sacredbones. And he said to Antonio, "My lord, we love you; but sooner thanthat the bones should be burnt, we will kill you and all that are withyou."
But Antonio answered, "I also love you, Sancho; yet you and all yourcompany shall die sooner than my oath shall be broken."
"Your soul shall answer for it, my lord," said Sancho.
"You speak truly," answered Antonio.
Then Sancho went back through the neck and took counsel with hisfellows; and they made him their chief, and promised to be obedient toall that he ordered. And he said, "Let two run at their highest speedthrough the neck: it may be they will die, but the bones must be saved.And after them, two more, and again two. And I will be of the firsttwo."
But they would not suffer him to be of the first two, although heprevailed that he should be of the last two. And the six, being chosen,drew their swords and with a cry rushed into the neck. Antonio, hearingtheir feet, said to Bena, "A quick blow is as good as a slow, Bena." Andeven as he spoke the first two came to the opening of the neck. ButAntonio and Bena struck at them before they came out of the narrowestpart or could wield their swords freely; and the second two coming on,Bena struck at one and wounded him in the breast, and he wounded Benain the face over the right eye, and then Bena slew him; while Antonioslew his man at his first stroke. And the fifth man and Sancho, thesixth, coming on, Antonio cried loudly, "Are you mad, are you mad? Wecould hold the neck against a hundred."
But they would not stop, and Antonio slew the fifth, and Bena was in theact to strike at Sancho, but Antonio suddenly dashed Sancho's sword fromhis hand, and caught him a mighty buffet, so that he fell sprawling onthe bodies of the five that were dead.
"Go back, fool, go back!" cried Antonio.
And Sancho, answering nothing, gathered himself up and went back; for heperceived now that not with the loss of half of his men would he get byAntonio and Bena; and beyond them stood Tommasino with ten whom he knewto be of the stoutest of the band.
"It is a sore day's work, Bena," cried Antonio, looking at the deadbodies.
"If a man be too great a fool to keep himself alive, my lord, he mustdie," answered Bena; and he pushed the bodies a little further backinto the neck with his foot.
Then Sancho's company took counsel again; for, much as they reverencedthe sacred bones, there was none of them eager to enter the neck. Thusthey were at a loss, till the shepherd who had come along w
ith themspoke to Sancho, saying, "At the cost of a long journey you may come athim; for there is a way round that I can lead you by. But you will nottraverse it in less than twelve or thirteen hours, taking necessary restby the way."
But Sancho, counting the time, cried, "It will serve! For although athousand came against him, yet the Count will not burn the bones beforethe time of his oath."
Therefore he left fifteen men to hold the neck, in case Antonio shouldoffer to return back through it, and with the rest he followed theshepherd in great stealth and quiet; by reason of which, and of the rockbetween them, Antonio knew not what was done, but thought that the wholecompany lay still on the other side of the neck.
Thus the day wore to evening as the Archbishop with the Lord Lorenzo andthe guards came to the spur of the hills; and here they found a manwaiting, who cried to them, "Do you bring the Duke's promise to theCount Antonio?"
"Yes, we bring it," said they.
"I am charged," said he, "to lead the Archbishop and one other after theCount." But since the Archbishop could not climb the hills, being oldand weary, Lorenzo constrained the man to take with him four of theGuards besides; and the four bore the Archbishop along. Thus they wereled through the secret tracks in the hills, and these Lorenzo tried toengrave on his memory, that he might come again. But the way was longand devious, and it was hard to mark it. Thus going, they came to thehuts, and passing the huts, still climbed wearily till they arrived nearto the neck. It was then night, and, as they guessed, hard on the timewhen Antonio had sworn to burn the sacred bones; therefore they pressedon more and more, and came at last to the entrance of the neck. Herethey found the fifteen, and Lorenzo, running up, cried aloud, "We bringthe promise, we bring the promise!"
But scarcely had he spoken these words, when a sudden great shout camefrom the other side of the neck; and Lorenzo, drawing his sword, rushedinto the neck, the fifteen following, yet leaving a space between himand them, lest they should see him fall, pierced by Antonio and Bena.And Lorenzo stumbled and fell over the five dead bodies which lay in theway of the neck. Uttering a cry, "What are these?" he scrambled again tohis feet, and passed unhurt through the mouth of the neck, and thefifteen followed after him, while the Guards supported the Archbishop intheir hands, his chair being too wide to pass through the neck. And whenthus they all came through, wild and strange was the sight they saw. Forit chanced that at the same time Sancho's company had completed theircircuit, and had burst from behind upon Antonio and the twelve. And whenthe twelve saw them, they retreated to the great pile and made a ringround it, and stood there ready to die rather than allow Sancho's mento reach the pile. It was then midnight and the time of Count Antonio'soath. Count Antonio stood on the top of the great pile; at his feet laythe golden casket containing the sacred bones, and in his hand was atorch. And he cried aloud, "Hold them, while I fire the pile!" and heleapt down and came to the side of the pile and laid his torch to thepile. And in an instant the flames shot up, for the pile was dry.
Now when Sancho's men saw the pile alight, with shouts of horror and ofterror they charged at the top of their speed against the twelve whoguarded the pile. And Lorenzo and his men also rushed; but the cries ofSancho's company, together with the answering defiance of the twelve,drowned the cries of Lorenzo; and Antonio and the twelve knew not thatLorenzo was come. And the flames of the pile grew, and the highesttongue of flame licked the side of the golden casket. But Antonio'svoice rose above all, as he stood, aye, almost within the ambit of thefire, and cried, "Hold them a moment, Tommasino--a moment, Bena--andthe thing is done!" Then Lorenzo tore his casque from his head and flungdown his sword, and rushed unarmed between Antonio's men and Sancho'smen, shouting louder than he had thought ever to shout, "The promise!the promise!" And at the same moment (so it is told, I but tell it as itis told) there came from heaven a great flash of lightning, which,aiding the glare of the flames, fully revealed the features of Lorenzo.Back fell Sancho's men, and Antonio's arrested their swords. And thenthey all cried as men cry in great joy, "The promise! the promise!" Andfor a moment all stood still where they were. But the flames leapthigher; and, as Antonio had said, they were seen by the great throngthat gazed from the city walls; and they were seen by Duke Valentine ashe watched from the wall of his garden by the river; and he went pale,gnawing his nails.
Then the Count Antonio sprang on the burning pile, though it seemed thatno man could pass alive through it. Yet God was with him, and he gainedthe top of it, and, stooping, seized the golden casket and flung itdown, clear of the pile, even at the Lord Lorenzo's feet; and whenLorenzo sought to lift it, the heat of it blistered his hands, and hecried out with pain. But Count Antonio, choked by the smoke, his hairand his eyebrows scorched by the fire, staggered half-way down the pileand there sank on his knees. And there he had died, but that Tommasino,Bena, and Sancho, each eager to outstrip the other, rushed in and drewhim forth, and fetched water and gave it to him, so that he breathedagain and lived. But the flames leapt higher and higher; and they saidon the city walls, "God help us! God help us! The sacred bones areburnt!" And women, aye, and men too, fell to weeping, and there wasgreat sorrow, fear, and desolation. And the Duke gnawed his nails evento the quick, and spat the blood from his mouth, cursing Antonio.
But Lorenzo, having perceived that the greater number was againstAntonio, cried out to Sancho's men, "Seize him and bring him here!" Forthe Duke's promise carried no safety to Antonio.
But Sancho answered him, "Now that the sacred bones are safe, we have noquarrel with my lord Antonio;" and he and his men went and laid downtheir swords by the feet of Antonio, where he lay on the ground, hishead on Tommasino's lap. So that the whole band were now round Antonio,and Lorenzo had but four with him.
"He asks war!" growled Bena to Tommasino. "Shall he not have war, mylord?"
And Tommasino laughed, answering, "Here is a drunkard of blood!"
But Count Antonio, raising himself, said, "Is the Archbishop here?"
Then Lorenzo went and brought the Archbishop, who, coming, stood beforeAntonio, and rehearsed to him the oath that Duke Valentine had taken,and told him how the Lady Lucia was already free and in her own house,and made him aware also of the great tumult that had happened in thecity. And Antonio listened to his tale in silence.
Then the Archbishop raised a hand towards heaven and spoke in a solemnand sad voice, "Behold, there are ten of the Duke's Guard dead in thecity, and there are twelve of the townsmen dead; and here, in theopening of the neck, there lie dead five men of those who followed you,my lord. Twenty-and-seven men are there that have died over thisbusiness. I pray more have not died in the city since I set forth. Andfor what has this been done, my lord? And more than the death of allthese is there. For these sacred bones have been foully andirreligiously stolen and carried away, used with vile irreverence andbrought into imminent hazard of utter destruction: and had they beendestroyed and their ashes scattered to the four winds, according to yourblasphemous oath, I know not what would have befallen the country wheresuch an act was done. And for what has this been done, my lord? It hasbeen done that a proud and violent man may have his will, and that hispassion may be satisfied. Heavy indeed is the burden on your soul mylord; yes, on your soul is the weight of sacrilege and of much blood."
The Archbishop ceased, and his hand dropped to his side. The flames onthe pile were burning low, and a stillness fell on all the company. Butat last Count Antonio rose to his feet and stood with his elbow onTommasino's shoulder, leaning on Tommasino. His face was weary and sad,and he was very pale, save where in one spot the flame had scorched hischeek to an angry red. And looking round on the Archbishop, and on theLord Lorenzo, and on them all, he answered sadly, "In truth, my LordArchbishop, my burden is heavy. For I am an outlaw, and excommunicated.Twenty-and-seven men have died through my act, and I have used thesacred bones foully, and brought them into imminent peril of totaldestruction, according to my oath. All this is true, my lord. And yet Iknow not. For Almighty God, whom all we, whether
honest men or knaves,men of law or lawless, humbly worship--Almighty God has His own scales,my lord. And I know not which thing be in those scales the heavier; thattwenty-and-seven men should die, and that the bones of the blessed St.Prisian should be brought in peril, aye, or should be utterlydestroyed; or again that one weak girl, who has no protection save inthe justice and pity of men, should be denied justice and bereft ofpity, and that no man should hearken to her weeping. Say, my lord--forit is yours to teach and mine to learn--which of these things should Godcount the greater sin? And for myself I have asked nothing; and for myfriends here, whom I love--yes, even those I have killed for my oath'ssake, I loved--I have dared to ask nothing. But I asked only thatjustice should be done and mercy regarded. Where, my lord, is thegreater sin?"
But the Archbishop answered not a word to Count Antonio; but he and theLord Lorenzo came and lifted the golden casket, and, no man of Antonio'scompany seeking to hinder them, they went back with it to the city andshowed it to the people; and after that the people had rejoiced greatlythat the sacred bones, which they had thought to be destroyed, weresafe, the Archbishop carried the golden casket back to the shrine in thevillage of Rilano, where it rests till this day. But Count Antonioburied the five men of his band whom he and Bena had slain, and withthe rest he abode still in the hills, while the Lady Lucia dwelt in herown house in the city; and the Duke, honouring the oath which he hadsworn before all the people, did not seek to constrain her to wed anyman, and restored to her the estate that he had taken from her. Yet theDuke hated Count Antonio the more for what he had done, and sought themore eagerly how he might take him and put him to death.