The Honour of Savelli: A Romance Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  A FOOL'S CAP AND A SORE HEART.

  I was not so dense as to fail to grasp the extent of the peril I hadescaped, or to fully realise the evil strength of the temptation,which came upon me as suddenly as a sneeze. It is rare in matters ofthis kind for wicked thoughts to be of slow growth; they spring atonce to life, full-armed. I thanked God in my heart that I was able tosweep aside the base desire, which covered my soul like a black cloud,and refrained from taking advantage of madame's momentary weakness. Icould not but see I was to blame myself.

  I, the elder and the stronger, should have foreseen the probableconsequences of a friendship such as ours, and my sorrow for her wasmixed with the deepest regret for my part in the transaction. Ibanished all idea of attacking D'Entrangues through his wife,wondering at the littleness of spirit which had ever conceived such athought. If it were possible, I would have kicked myself. Perhaps suchvictory as I gained over my heart was due to the secret springs of myvanity being touched, to the fear of the loss of my self-respect, andthis mingling with my pity and regret, gave me the strength to win atthe moment of temptation. It is difficult to tell; I have lived longenough in the world to know that the mysteries of the heart willremain veiled to the end. Occasionally we may lift the curtain alittle, but more no man has done.

  What had happened, however, explained clearly to me the motive forD'Entrangues' conduct. He, at any rate, must have seen, long beforeeither of us, how affairs stood with the wife whose life heembittered; but he made no effort to save her, contenting himself withstriking an assassin's blow, which had taken from him the last shredof respect madame may have felt for him, and which had in partrecoiled on his own head. Be this as it may, his stroke wassuccessful, in that to all intents and purposes it had utterly blastedme. I was worse than dead. It was no ordinary revenge. In thosetroublous times, a blow from a dagger could have easily rid him of awife of whom he was sick, or a man whom he hated, and no one wouldhave thrown the matter in his teeth. But with devilish cruelty, heinflicted wounds which could never heal, and left his victims to live.It was impossible to hit such a man back, in a way to make him feel tothe utmost extent the agony he had administered; the only thing was totake from him his worthless life: this he doubtless valued most of allthings, and I meant to deprive him of it, if he stood at the altar ofChrist. Moved by such thoughts, and with my cloak drawn well over thelower part of my face, I hastened towards the Roman Gate, reaching itjust as it was to be closed for the night. In fact, as I passed out,the huge doors came together behind me with a groaning, and at thesame time I heard the dull boom of the evening gun from the camp,followed immediately by the distant peals of the trumpets of thecavalry brigade.

  The sun had now set, and night came apace; a grey haze enveloped thetown behind me; above, in the deep violet of the sky, a few stars wereshining, soon to be dimmed by the rising moon; from the east a bank ofclouds was rapidly approaching, the advance guard of a storm from theAdriatic. To the west, there was still light enough to see the Chiana,lying like a silver thread, flung carelessly to earth in long folds,and the rugged outlines of the roadless Chianti hills stood up infantastic shapes against the horizon. South-east was the peak of MonteEavulto; due west, beyond Bucine, Mount Luco was yet visible. I haltedfor a moment, hesitating what course to take; whether to cross theswamps of the Chiana valley, and make my way over the Ambra toMontevarchi, and on to Florence; or to skirt the camp, cross the Arnoat one of the fords between Laterine and Giove, and go on through thePrato Magno.

  As the crow flies, Florence was but a few leagues distant; but Iobviously would have to journey by side-paths, over hill and acrossvalley to avoid observation, and this would occupy at least two days,unless my travels were permanently stopped by my being cut off by aprivateering party from the camp, or by any other untoward accident.Neither contingency was unlikely, for the writ of the king ran barelya league from the army, and the country was full of banditti. In fact,for a half-pistole one might have had a priest's throat cut. I decidedon the former route. So muffling myself well in my cloak, for the windblew chill, with my sword resting in the loop of my arm, I set forwardat a round pace, and avoiding the camp, directed my steps towardsBucine. As far as Chiani I knew the road. Beyond that there wasnothing but quagmire and swamp; still I had little doubt of finding myway by the moon, which would soon show, and if, perchance, I fell inwith nighthawks, well then, there was little to be gained from me buthard knocks; and it would be an opportunity to test the temper of theblade I had purchased from Don Piero, the armourer.

  In this mind I pressed on, intending to lie at Bucine for the night,or, if no better accommodation offered, to sleep as a soldier should,wrapped in my cloak, with the sky for a roof. As I went on, I found Iwas relying a little too much on my knowledge of the road, and a bluemist, which rose from the ground, made it impossible to pick my way bylandmarks. Stumbling along, I took a good two hours to do what shouldhave been done in one, and, by the time I reached Chiani, began tothink it would be well to reconsider my decision in regard to makingBucine that night. It was then that I suddenly remembered that Chianiwas held by a piquet of Swiss infantry, and any attempt to enter wouldbe impossible, as the gates were doubtless shut. I was a little putout, for had I only recollected the fact before, I might have beensaved the extra mile or so of hard work I had to reach within a fewyards of Chiani, merely for the pleasure of turning back. The moon,come out by this time, shone fitfully through the bank of clouds,which was shifting uneasily overhead, and the wind, rising steadily,marked rain. I stirred myself all the faster, for I was in no mind toadd a wetting to my misfortunes, and a drop or two of rain that caughtme, showed I had but little leisure to lose. I made out a narrowcattle track, and hurried along this; but before I covered a mile themoon was obscured, and the wind dropped. It now began to rain, and thedarkness was so thick, that I could only just follow the road. Soonthe track died away into nothing, and I found myself floundering, overmy ankles in mud, and up to the waist in wet rushes. At any moment Imight strike a quicksand, with which these marshes abound, so I usedmy sword as a search-pole, stepping only where I found foot-hold, adozen inches or so below the surface of the bog. In this perplexity,imagine my relief to see the blaze of a fire shoot up beyond a smallrising ground before me, and throw an arc of light into the darkness,against which the falling rain glittered like fine wires of silver. Ishouted aloud and to my joy got an answer.

  "Who is there? What is the matter?"

  "A traveller," I replied, "who has lost his way in this cursed swamp.Whoever you are, you will make a friend and find a reward if you leadme out of this."

  "Come straight on, there is no danger beyond getting your feet wet."

  "They are that already," I answered, and pressed on, having absolutelyto force my way through the wet rushes, which wound themselves roundme impeding my progress terribly. Moreover, so sticky was the slimebelow, that I thought every moment it would pull the boots off myfeet. Struggling on in this manner for a hundred yards or more, guidedby the fire, and an occasional shout from my unknown friend, I at lasttouched hard ground, and with a "Thank heaven!" got out of the swamp,and found myself at the foot of the hillock, behind which the fire wasblazing.

  "Which way to Bucine?" I called out.

  "Are you out of the swamp?"

  "Yes!"

  "Then come round the shoulder of the hill to your right, and followyour nose. You will find shelter here. Bucine you could never reachto-night, and a dog should not be out in this weather."

  "True, friend," I muttered, and with a loud "thanks" to the apparentlyhospitable unknown, I followed his directions, and rounding thehillock, saw before me, spluttering in the rain, a huge fire ofpine-logs, at the entrance to a hut of the rudest description. Inside,I perceived a sitting figure, over which the light from the firealternately cast a glare, and then left it in darkness. I made my wayto the open door, which hung back on hinges of rope, and enteredwithout further
ceremony.

  "Humph!" snorted my host, without moving from his position. "I said itwas no night for a dog to be out, I did not say anything of a wolf."

  This change of tone was not so surprising, for dripping wet, coveredwith mud, and white with fatigue, my general appearance was but littlecalculated to re-assure any one. Yet, as I hung my cloak on a roughwooden peg which caught my eye, I could not help laughing in mockeryas I answered:

  "Wolves, friend, come to wolves' lairs."

  He took no notice of my remark; but pointing to a heap of rushesopposite to him, said, "Sit down there." He then rose, and wenttowards the fire with an unlit torch in his hand. This gave me someopportunity of observing him. I saw he was of spare, but elasticfigure. His head was bare, and his white hair hung in matted locksover a lean neck to his shoulders. His dress was fantastic, andentirely out of place with his surroundings. It consisted of a tightfitting jerkin of parti-coloured velvet, with puffed breeches tomatch, pulled over thick black hose. On his feet were the ordinarysandals of the peasantry, and, as he stooped to light the torch-wood,I saw his face was seamed with wrinkles, and that his lips movedrapidly, as if he was speaking, although no sound issued from them. Hedid not delay about his business; but hastened in, and sticking thetorch in a hole in the floor between us, resumed his seat, and saidabruptly--

  "Let me look at you?"

  Apparently his scrutiny was satisfactory, and I did nothing tointerrupt him.

  "Hungry?"

  "No. All that I ask is to be allowed to rest here till to-morrow."

  "That is well, for I have no food to offer you; but here is some winein this skin."

  He reached to a corner and pulled out a small wineskin. This he placedbefore me with the single word "drink."

  "No, thanks." The whole manner and aspect of the man were so peculiar,that, although I was much fatigued, I judged it prudent to decline.His quick eye seemed to read my thoughts, for he laughed a littlebitterly as he said--

  "Tush, man! There is no fear. You bear too long a sword to have apurse worth the picking, and you are not supping," a look of hatepassed over his features as he dropped out slowly, "with the Borgia.See, I will give you a toast--Revenge." He took a pull at the skin andflung it to me.

  "I drink to that," I said, tasting the wine in my turn. Here then wasanother who, like me, sought for consolation in vengeance. We sat insilence for some minutes, each absorbed in his own thoughts. The heatfrom the fire had warmed the hut so, that the blue steam began to risefrom my damp clothes. My companion reclined on his elbow tracing somediagram on the floor with a poniard, which from its shape wasevidently of Eastern make. The rain, which now increased in violence,had almost quenched the log-fire, and was invading our shelter, forthe roof began to leak. There being no wind the torch burned steadily,throwing sufficient light for us to distinguish each other. I began towonder what manner of man this was before me, dressed in a motley ofcourt-fool and peasant, and my curiosity was aroused to such anextent, that for the time I forgot my own troubles. Nevertheless Imade no sign of inquiry, knowing there is no means so sure ofobtaining information as to seem not to desire it. My new friendkept his eyes fixed on the point of his dagger, the muscles of hisqueer-webbed face twitching nervously. At length he became consciousof my scrutiny, for lifting his eyes, he looked me in the face, andthen made a motion of his hand towards the wine-skin.

  "No more, thanks."

  "There will be that left for to-morrow before we start."

  "Then you also are a traveller?"

  "If you so put it; but I have been here for a week."

  "An odd retreat to choose."

  "Any hole will do for a rat."

  "True; but we were wolves a moment ago," I smiled.

  "I did not say I was," he replied drily, "but you looked wolf all overwhen you came in. Give me your hand."

  I stretched out my hand, and he held my open palm near the torch, bentover it, and examined the lines keenly.

  "Yes," he muttered half to himself, "strong fingers that can closeover a sword-hilt, a soldier too, and one who has seen wars. Too muchconscience ever to be great. You will never die a prince as Sforzadid. Stay--what do I see? A man changed to a wolf--no--wolf you willnever be. A bitter enemy, a woman who loves you, and a free heart foryourself. Sorrow and danger, bale and ruth, then calm waters andpeace. There! Are you satisfied? If the devil does not upset this, itis the map of your life. Can you read mine?"

  "No," I replied, withdrawing my hand, and somewhat surprised at thegeneral accuracy of this man's knowledge of my past. Yet, I could nothelp crossing myself as I thought of his allusion to the foul fiend.

  "Ay!" he sneered, "cross yourself. Peter and Paul are old and blind.They do not see. Pray if you like. God is too far above the stars tohear you. Go on your knees and beat at the skies with yourlamentations. You will surely see the light of a seraph's wings. Do Inot know--have I not seen the deep? Some day you will know, too."

  He stopped as suddenly as he burst out, and betook himself to his oldtrick of moving his lips rapidly, forming words without any sound. Ibegan to think I was with a madman, and rapidly cast up the chances ofa struggle. I was physically the stronger, but armed as he was, withan unsheathed dagger, the odds were against me. Perhaps it would beprudent to begin the assault myself, and taking him by surprise,overpower him. When, however, I came to consider that I was in amanner his guest, that he had shown me kindness, and given no signs ofpersonal violence, I was ashamed of my fears.

  "You say you are going to Bucine?" He asked the question in his usualabrupt manner; but his tone was composed.

  "It lies on my road."

  "And on mine, too. Shall we travel together? I could point out theway."

  "Certainly. It is very good of you."

  "Well, it is time to sleep, and the torch has burnt to an end."

  As he spoke he stretched himself out at full length, and, turning hisback to me, appeared to sink at once into slumber. I watched him forsome time by the embers of the torch, wondering if I was wise inaccepting his companionship, and then, overpowered by fatigue, lostmyself in sleep, heedless of the rain, which dripped in twenty placesthrough the roof.

  I slept profoundly, until aroused by my shoulder being gently shaken,and looking up, beheld my host, as I must call him, bending over me. Ithought I had slept for a few minutes only, and saw to my surprisethat it was well in the morning, and the sun shone brightly. Alltraces of cloud were gone, though soft billows of mist rolled over theolive gardens, and vineyards of Chianti grape, that stretched towardsMontevarchi.

  "Heavens, man! How you sleep! I was right when I hinted you had a goodconscience."

  I scrambled up with a hasty Good-morning; and a few minutesafterwards, having finished the remains of the wine in the skin, westarted off in the direction of Bucine. My companion had politelynever inquired my name, and I had been equally reticent. He placed onhis head a silken fools'-cap, and the bells on it jingled incessantlyas he walked along with a jaunty air, at a pace that was remarkablefor a man of his age. He seemed to have lost the melancholy thatpossessed him during the night, and conversed in so cheerful andentertaining a manner, that in spite of myself, I was interested andwithdrawn from my unhappy thoughts. He kept up his mood to Bucinewhere, notwithstanding our strange appearance, we attracted, to myrelief, less attention than I imagined we should draw.

  With appetites sharpened by our walk, we did full justice to the mealI ordered at the only hostel in the place. Here I played host, as areturn for my entertainment, and in conversation my acquaintance saidthat he was bound for Florence. I told him that also was my point, andinvited him to bear me company on the road, to which he willinglyagreed. I made an attempt here to hire a horse; but not even a donkeywas procurable, all available carriage having been seized upon for thearmy. So once more descending the hill on which Bucine is situated, weforded the river and continued our journey.

  At the albergo we heard that a body of troops were foraging along thebanks of the Arno,
and resolved to make a detour, and, crossing MonteLuco, to keep on the sides of the Chianti hills, if necessary avoidingMontevarchi altogether. My companion maintained his high spirits untilwe reached the top of the spur of Monte Luco, known to the peasantryas the Virgin's Cradle. Here we stopped to breathe and observe theview. I looked back across the Chiana valley, and let my eye run overthe landscape which stretched as far as the Marches. In the bluesplash, to the south of the rugged and conical hill of Cortona, Irecognised Trasimene, and beyond it lay Perugia. I turned to call myfriend's attention to the scene, and at first did not perceive wherehe was. Another glance showed him standing on the edge of the cliff, alittle to my left, shaking his clenched hand in the direction ofPerugia, whilst on his face was marked every sign of sorrow and hate.

  Curious to see what this would result in, I made no attempt to attracthis attention, but in a moment he shook off the influence whichpossessed him, and rejoined me with a calm brow. We thereuponcontinued our journey with this difference, that my companion was nowas silent as hitherto he had been cheerful. My own dark thoughts toocame back to roost, and in a gloom we descended the Cradle, pushingour way through the myrtle with which it was covered, and walked on,holding Montevarchi to our right.

  We kept a sharp look-out for the foragers, and seeing no signs ofthem, made up our minds, after some consultation, to risk going toMontevarchi, which we reached without mishap a little after noon. Itwas not my intention to halt there more than an hour or so, which I,hoping I would have better luck than at Bucine, intended to spend intrying to hire an animal of some kind to ride.

  We stopped at the Bell Inn, near the gate, and after a deal ofbargaining, which consumed a good hour, the landlord agreed to hire mehis mule for two crowns. The rascal wanted ten at first. Just as thematter was settled a dozen or so of troopers rode in, and, spying themule, in the twinkling of an eye claimed it for carriage purposes.

  It was in vain the landlord protested that it was his last beast, thatit had been hired to the noble cavaliere, meaning me, and many otherthings beside. The soldiers were deaf to his entreaties, and althoughI had more than a mind to draw on the villains, I had the good senseto restrain myself, for the odds were too many against me. I thereforehid my chagrin under a smile, and the mule was led away amidst thelamentations of mine host, who was further put out of pocket by agallon or so of wine, which the troopers consumed, doubtless in honourof the prize they had taken, neglecting in the true fashion of the_compagnes grandes_ to pay for it. It was a fit lesson to thelandlord, for had he not, in his cupidity, haggled for an hour overthe hire of the animal, he might have been the richer by two crownsand still owned his mule. Thus it is that avarice finds its ownpunishment.

  On going off, the leader of the troop, a man whom I knew by sight andby reputation as a swashbuckler, if ever there was one, made me a mocksalute, saying, in allusion to my quietness in surrendering my claimto the mule, "Adieu, Messer Feather-Cap--may your courage grow as longas your sword." This taunt I swallowed ruefully, and immediately setabout my departure. My companion, who was not mixed up in thealtercation, joined me silently, and we followed in the directiontaken by the troopers, pursued by the maledictions of the innkeeper,who vented his spleen on us as the indirect cause of his misfortune.

  The foragers, who owing to the warmth of the weather had all removedtheir breast-plates, which were slung to their saddles, were going ata walking pace; and it was amusing to see how the mere sight of theirpresence cleared the streets. Noting, however, that they did notappear to be bent on personal injury, we did not think it necessary togo out of our course, or delay our departure until they left the town,and as we walked fast and they went slowly, by the time they reachedthe main square, we were not more than a dozen yards behind them.

  At this moment we noticed the figure of a woman, apparently blind, forshe was guided by a little dog attached to a string. The poor creaturewas crossing the pavement almost in front of the leader of the troop,and as she was right in the path of the troopers, we attempted to warnher by shouting, and she stooped irresolutely, hardly knowing whichway to turn. The troop leader, without making any effort to avoid her,rode on in a pitiless manner, and she was flung senseless to theground. In this her hood fell back, uncovering her face, and mycompanion, suddenly uttering a loud cry, ran forward, and seizing herin his arms, began to address her with every term of endearment, inthe manner of a father to his child.

  The troopers halted--discipline it will be observed was not great--andone of them with rough sympathy called to my friend to bear the girl,for so she looked, to the fountain, at the same time that theircommander gave a loud order to go on, and to leave off looking at afool and a beggar. I had, however, made up my mind there was a littlework for me, and, drawing my sword, stepped up to the swashbuckler'sbridle, and asked for a five minutes' interview there and then.

  He burst into a loud laugh, "_Corpo di Bacco!_ Here is MesserFeather-Cap with his courage grown. Here! two of you bind him to themule."

  But the men with him were in no mood to obey, and one of them openlysaid--

  "It is always thus with the ancient Brico."

  "Do you intend to give me the pleasure I seek," I asked, "or has theancient Brico taken off his heart with his corselet?"

  For a moment it looked as if he were about to ride at me: but my swordwas ready, and I was standing too close to him for any such treacheryto be carried off. Flinging the reins, therefore, to the neck of hishorse, he dismounted slowly and drew his sword. A number of thetownsfolk, attracted by the scene, so far forgot their fear of theforagers as to collect around us, and in a few moments a ring wasformed, one portion of which was occupied by the troopers.

  Brico took his stand so as to place the sun in my eyes, a manifestunfairness, for we should have fought north and south; yet I made noobjection, and unclasping my cloak let it fall to the ground behindme.

  "_A vous!_" he called out, and the next moment we engaged in the lowercircle, my opponent, for all his French cry, adopting the Italianmethod, and using a dagger to parry. For a few seconds we tried tofeel each other, and I was delighted with the balance of my sword. Itdid not take me a half minute to see that he was a child in my hands,and I began to rapidly consider whether it would be worth the candleto kill him or not. Brico, who had commenced the assault with a stampof his foot, and a succession of rapid thrusts in the lower lines,became aware of his weakness as soon as I did, and began to backslowly. I twice pricked him over the heart, and his hand began toshake, so that he could hardly hold his weapon.

  "Make way there," I called out mockingly, "the ancient would like torun a little."

  Maddened by this taunt, he pulled himself together and lungedrecklessly at me in tierce; it was an easy parry, and with a strongbeat I disarmed him. He did not wait, but with the rapidity of a hareturned and fled, not so fast, however, but that I was able toaccelerate his departure with a stroke from the flat of my sword.

  "Adieu, ancient Brico!" I called out after him as he ran on, followedby a howl of derision from the crowd, in which his own men joined.

  It was lucky that I adopted the course of disarming him, for had theaffair ended otherwise, I doubt not but that the men-at-arms wouldhave felt called upon to avenge their leader, poltroon as he was. Asit happened they enjoyed his discomfiture, and an old trooper calledout to me--

  "Well fought, signore--you should join us--there is room for yoursword under the banner of Tremouille. What--no--I am sorry; but go inpeace, for you have rid us of a cur."

  Saying this, they rode off, one of their number leading the ancient'shorse by the bridle.

  I turned now to look for my companion. He was nowhere to be seen, andon inquiry I found that he had lifted the girl up, and supporting heron his arm, the two, followed by the dog, had turned down by thechurch, and were now not in view. It would, no doubt, have been easyto follow, and as easy to trace them; but I reasoned that the man musthave purposely done this to avoid me; and after all it was no businessof mine. I therefore ret
urned my sword to its sheath and walked on.