CHAPTER XXII.
THE RIDE TO ST. JEROME.
We galloped at a break-neck pace to the gate, but the guard wasalready alarmed, and half-a-dozen men came hastening towards us.They were on foot, however, and had no mind to stand the shock ofmeeting horses coming at full speed down an incline, so skippednimbly aside. The officer alone held his ground, paying for hiscourage with his life, for Bande Nere sliced his head in two like aripe water-melon--poor wretch. Had they only closed the gates we werelost, but we reached them just in time, and passing through like aflash were free of the town. A bullet or two whizzed past us, but didno damage. It was done, and another half hour of the pace we weregoing would place us beyond pursuit. It was no easy matter, however,to sit the horse and hold Angiola as I was doing, and I very soonbegan to feel that the strain on my arm was getting beyond me, andthat she was slipping from my grasp. She lay still and passive, hereyes closed, her head resting on my shoulder, and seemed in a faint.Perhaps I spoke roughly, but it was no time to mince words.
"Come, madam," I said, "you must rouse yourself--take another day toswoon--hold me as closely as you can--quick."
My words--and the tone they were spoken in--had the effect I wanted.She looked a little indignant, but held on, leaving my left arm, whichwas getting numbed, more free to guide the horse, and my sword armgreater liberty should occasion arise.
The country, rugged although it was, descended in a slope towards thebasin of Trasimene, but I turned sharp aside from the road, fearingthere might be a picquet thereon, and galloped across the open, farout-pacing my followers, who I saw were coming after me in a bunch,and at their utmost speed--the honest knaves. The glance over myshoulder that I took to observe this also showed me a strong body ofhorse spurring from the gate, and I chuckled to myself as I thought wehad gained a mile's start and that they had to deal with Castor. Fiveleagues to go--it was nothing to the brave horse; and in answer to mycall he stretched himself out as he had never done before. As for me,such thoughts as I had when I felt the arms of the woman I lovedclasped about me are to be recalled for one's self alone, and concernnone else beside. Once or twice I glanced down, meeting her eyes, andas she dropped her lids over them they seemed to me to be alive with asoft light. After a little I felt her arms beginning to relax.
"Hold tight," I said.
"I cannot; my strength is going."
"Courage, take heart; see, to our left is the Tower of Magione--a fewminutes and we are safe."
I drew her closer towards me. With an effort she rallied, her armsagain tightened in their clasp, and we sped down the long slope whichled to Trasimene, Castor stretching himself like a greyhound. I lookedagain over my shoulder. Far behind my men were riding for their lives,and farther still was the dark line of our pursuers, coming on withdogged persistence, the sun lighting up their armour and flashing fromtheir spears. Once beyond Magione we were comparatively safe, but afalse step, a stumble, and all was lost. Magione itself was held bythe Baglioni, and from the old watch-tower, built by the Sforza, whichstood high above the country, we might have already been spied, and aparty sent out to intercept us. The thought seemed to grow into areality, and a despair began to come over me. "On, on, Castor!" Ispoke to the good horse, and he laid his ears back at the sound of myvoice, and even as he did so I saw a cloud of dust coming towards ourleft, and knew that the danger I feared was at hand. Going as we wereI was riding right into the party from Magione, and therefore with atouch on the rein, I swung Castor round to the north, and we raced on,leaving the tower over my shoulder. The double burden and thetremendous pace, however, began to tell on the horse, and within thenext five minutes he slackened perceptibly in his stride. To my horrorI saw that the ground began to be furrowed and cut up by ravines andthat we were approaching the bed of a river. I had therefore toslacken the pace, and at the same time our new pursuers sighting us,came on with all the speed of their fresh horses. Castor scrambled inand out of the ravines like a cat, but we were going slowly now, andthe enemy had all the advantage of the level ground to come up, whichthey did at a dreadful rate. With the failing strength of my companionI dared not risk jumps, weighted as I was, but the brave horse did hisutmost, as if knowing our danger.
"For God's sake hold on!" I cried out as we topped a deep ravine witha plunge that almost caused Angiola to slip from my grasp, and as Isaid this I heard a shot and a ball from an arquebus whistled over myhead. The enemy were in the rough ground now themselves, but they werewithin gun-range, and I dreaded that some of them might dismount andpick me off. This however did not occur to them, and on we went, withevery now and again a bullet, fired from horseback with an unsteadyaim singing past us. My charge had twisted her arms into my shoulderbelt and held on bravely, but I saw by her white face and the bluecoming into her lips that this could not last, and if she faintedthere was an end of all.
At the outside it was a matter of a few minutes now, one way or theother; but as I came to the crest of another ravine I saw before me asteep bank leading down to a small stream that was swishing along in awhite flood, and on the opposite shore a sight that made my heartleap, for drawn up in array, evidently roused by the sound of theshots, was a strong body of men-at-arms, and over them fluttered thepennon of Hawkwood, a red hand on a white field. I knew in a moment wewere within the king's outposts.
"Saved!" I shouted in my joy. "Saved!"--and risking all I made thehorse fly the last ravine, and the next instant we had slid down thebank, and the white water was churning round Castor as he dashed intothe stream.
A puff of smoke above us, a flash as of lightning, a deafening roar,and one of Novarro's nine pounders belched out a storm of grape, thathissed over our heads in the direction of our pursuers, and stoppedthem, beaten and baffled. One effort more, we were out of the stream,up the bank, and panting, breathless and still bleeding, with mycompanion in a dead faint in my arms, I reined in Castor. In a momentwe were surrounded, but the faces were kindly, and dismounting slowly,I placed my lifeless burden on a heap of cloaks that were flung to theearth for her, and then turning round, saw Hawkwood before me. It wasthe first time we had met since the affair at Arezzo, when I was castforth a dishonoured man. I did not know how to greet him, and therewas a constraint in his face, for I saw he knew me, and was likemyself at a loss for speech. I had, however, to take the matter in myhand.
"Signore," I said, "accept my thanks. This lady is the CountessAngiola Castellani, a ward of the Florentine secretary, whom I havebrought off from Perugia, and have to take to the convent of St.Jerome."
He tugged at his tawny moustache.
"I have merely carried out orders--you have nothing to thank me for,signore. My instructions were to prevent any of Baglioni's mencrossing the Sanguinetta, and to protect all fugitives from theterritories of the Borgia."
I bowed and added, with a pain in my tone I could not conceal, forthis man was once my friend--
"All the same I thank you, signore; I have, however, four followers."
"I can do nothing for them if they are on the other bank," heinterrupted, and went on, "St. Jerome is not a half-league from here.My men will make up a litter, and help to bear the lady there. It willbe easier for her. I wish you a good day." He turned on his heel andgave some orders to his men in English, a language I do not know,leaving me standing by the body of Angiola. All the misery of the pastcame back to me in a flash. Would the stain never be wiped out? Allthe kindness I had received from Bayard and the cardinal, all theefforts made by those who believed in me, seemed to be swept away asdust in the wind. Almost did I feel that I would accept the ban caston me, and turn wolf in earnest. It cost me much to restrain myselffrom drawing on Hawkwood, but a glance at the still pale face beforeme recalled me to my duty. A man very kindly brought me a little wine,I knelt down and forced some of it between her blue lips. In a shorttime she revived, some colour came into her cheeks, and she attemptedto rise, with a look of fear on her face at the number of armed menshe
saw around her.
"There is nothing to fear, madam," I said to reassure her, "you aresafe, and in an hour will be at St. Jerome--a litter is being madeready for you."
Without a word she held out her hand, and thanked me with this and thelook in her eyes.
The litter was now ready, half-a-dozen men volunteered their services,and placing her therein, we started for the convent. Ere we had gonehalf a mile we heard shouts behind us, and I was more than glad to seeJacopo and my men riding up.
"How did you get off?" I asked as they came up.
"In the rear of the troop from Magione, excellency," was Jacopo'sreply, "they did not observe us, having eyes only for you; and seeingyou were safe, we forded the stream lower down and crossed--but,excellency, your face--are you hurt?"
"Somewhat, but at St. Jerome I will have it attended to."
In truth the left side of my face appeared to be laid open, andalthough I felt that the wound was not so dangerous as it seemed, yetI had bled freely, and now that the excitement was over, began tosuffer much pain. Indeed at times I felt as if I could hardly holdmyself straight in the saddle, succeeding in doing so only by aneffort of will. I did not approach the litter. I was afraid that thesight of my face would alarm Angiola, for now she was probably able tolook about her, and see that which she had not been able to observebefore. Once, however, in a bend of the road, that fortunately went tothe left and hid my wounded side, our eyes met, and I caught so brighta smile of thanks, that it paid me for my hurt. I reined in, for Iknew my face showed too much, and henceforth kept well behind. I sentGian on to the convent with the good news of Angiola's rescue, and onnearing the gates was met by St. Armande and the rest of my followers,whom I was glad indeed to see.
He came up with a merry greeting. "Welcome," he cried, "so, gallantknight, you have saved the damsel in distress;" then catching sight ofmy wounded face his tone changed. "Good God! you are hurt."
"A little."
"You should have it seen to at once--come--we are not allowed to enterthe convent; but the abbess has done all she can for us, and we campor lodge, whichever way you put it, in that house there," he pointedto a small villa, set in what seemed a wilderness of holm-oak that hidall but its roof from view.
"Not so fast, chevalier. I must leave my charge at the convent first."
He had to rest satisfied with this, but I was surprised that he madeno inquiry as to the condition of Angiola, an ordinary civility thatmight have been expected.
At the gates of the convent, within which we were not allowed toenter, we were met by the lady abbess and her train. I dismounted,intending to assist Angiola out of the litter, but as it was set down,she sprang out of it of her own accord, and the next minute she was inthe arms of the abbess, and there was much kissing and manycongratulations, mingled with tears of joy.
I did not stay to receive the thanks I saw would shortly be showeredon me, and thrusting a handful of crowns into the hands of the leaderof the good fellows who bore the litter, as some reward for himselfand his men, I looped Castor's reins into my arm, and set forward towalk to the villa. The chevalier came with me, and by the time Ireached it I was quite giddy, being weak with the pain and the loss ofblood. The saturnine old abbe was there, with more concern in his facethan I had seen for a long time, and seeing me stagger, he put an armround me and, aided by St. Armande, assisted me to a couch. Thechevalier himself dressed my wound, with a gentle and skilful hand,making as much of me as if I had been run through the vitals. As hefinished dressing the wound, the abbe remarked that I would have torest for a few days to enable it to heal, and I had replied with somedifficulty, my jaw being bandaged up, that this was impossible, whenGian came in with a note. It was from Angiola, chiding me gently fornot waiting to receive her thanks and those of the abbess, and beggingme to come the following day, with a postscript to the effect that thelady abbess would so far relax the rules of the order, as to admit mewithin the courtyard. I dismissed Gian with thanks, and a message thatI would be at the convent, charging him to say nothing of my wound,and then my thoughts went a wool-gathering, and I lay back with themissive in my hands. St. Armande was leaning against the window, hisback to the light. He had taken up this position after whispering aword or two to the abbe, who left the room. I did not, however,observe him or anything else, my mind was full of mad thoughts, andfor the moment I let them have full play, making no effort to resist.Folding the letter up carefully, I placed it under my pillow, and wasabout to close my eyes, when the abbe returned, bearing a bowl in hishands. This St. Armande took from him, and approaching me said--
"Come, cavaliere--you must drink this at once."
His tone was sharp and incisive, and looking up in some surprise, Isaw he was pale to the lips, and wondered what bee had stung him. Irose to a sitting posture to take the cup; but he would not have itso, and passing his arm round my neck, made me drink like a child. Thedraught was cool and refreshing, and as I sank back on my pillows, myheart for a moment being gay at the thought of the letter, I saidjestingly--
"Chevalier, you would make a most excellent nurse. Shave off thatlittle moustache of yours, put on a black hood and gown, and_diavolo!_ But you would break as many hearts as you cured wounds."The words were barely out of my mouth, when he brought his foot downwith an angry stamp on the carpet, and with a face as scarlet now asit had been pale before, turned on his heel and walked out of theroom.
I looked to the abbe, who was sitting watching me, stroking his chinwith his hand.
"St. John! But is he often taken this way?"
The cleric rose, and not answering my question, spoke.
"You had better try and sleep now, cavaliere, or else the potion maylose its effect." He then followed St. Armande.
I would have risen to apologise, but I felt a pleasant numbnessstealing over me, and in a minute or so my thoughts began to growconfused, and I seemed to sink into a sleep. Not so profound aslumber, however, as to be unconscious of what was going on around me.I was sure I once heard Bande Nere and Jacopo in my room, and that Iwas being carried apparently to a more comfortable bed. Then I feltsoft hands bathing my wound, and heard a gentle voice whispering wordsof deep love in my ear. It was a dream, of course, but all through thenight that soon came, Doris d'Entrangues hung over me, and tended mewith words I cannot repeat.