Among the stories concerning the Count Antonio which were told to me in answer to my questioning (whereof I have rejected many as being no better than idle tales), there was one that met me often and yet seemed strange and impossible to believe; for it was said that he had during the time of his outlawry once spent several days in the vault of the Peschetti, and there suffered things that pass human understanding.
This vault lies near to the church of St. John the Theologian, in the suburb of Baratesta, on the banks of the river; and the Peschetti had a palace hard by, and were a family of high nobility, and allied by blood to the house of Monte Velluto. But I could find no warrant for the story of Antonio's sojourn in the vault, and although many insisted that the tale was true, yet they could not tell how nor why the Count came to be in the vault; until at length I chanced on an aged woman who had heard the truth of the matter from her grandmother, and she made me acquainted with the story, pouring on me a flood of garrulous gossip, from which I have chosen as much as concerns the purpose. And here I set it down; for I believe it to be true, and I would omit nothing that touches the Count, so I can be sure that what I write is based on truth.
When Count Antonio had dwelt in the hills for the space of three years and nine months, it chanced that Cesare, last of the Peschetti, died; and he made a will on his death-bed whereby he bequeathed to Count Antonio his lands and also a store of money, and many ornaments of gold, and jewels; for Antonio's mother had been of the house of the Peschetti, and Cesare loved Antonio, although he had not dared to give him countenance for fear of the Duke's anger; yet, knowing himself to be dying, he bequeathed everything to him, for the Duke's wrath could not hurt a dead man. And so soon as he was dead, his steward Giuseppe sent secretly and in haste to Antonio, saying, "My lord, you cannot take the lands or the house; but, if you will be wise, come quickly and take the money and the jewels; for I hear that His Highness the Duke, declaring that an outlaw has no right and can inherit nothing, will send and seize the treasure." Now Antonio, though grieved at the death of Cesare, was glad to hear of the treasure; for he was often hard put to it to maintain his company and those who depended on him for bread. So he pondered anxiously how he might reach the palace of the Peschetti and lay hands on the treasure and return safely; for at this time Duke Valentine had posted above a hundred of his Guard in the plain, and this troop watched all the approaches to the hills so that the band could not ride forth in a body unless it were prepared to do battle with the guards. Nor did Antonio desire to weaken the band, lest the guards, learning that the bravest were away, should venture an attack. Therefore he would not take Tommasino or Bena or any of the stoutest with him; but he took four young men who had come to him from Firmola, having fallen into the Duke's displeasure through brawling with his guards. These he mounted on good horses, and, having made a circuit to avoid the encampment in the plain, he came to Cesare's house on the day before that appointed for the funeral. Giuseppe came to meet him, and led him where the dead man lay, and, after the Count had gazed on his face and kissed his forehead, they two went to the treasury, and Giuseppe delivered the treasure to Antonio; and Antonio made him a present of value and confirmed him in his stewardship, although it was not likely that the Duke would suffer him to exercise any power, inasmuch as His Highness had declared his intention of forfeiting the estate into his own hand.
Now it chanced that one of the young men, being regaled with wine, drank very freely, and began to talk loud and boastfully of his master's achievements as the servants sat under the trees in front of the house; and there was with them a certain tailor, a lame man, who had furnished mourning garments for the funeral. The tailor, learning that Antonio was come, said nothing, and seemed not to hear nor understand the drunken youth's talk; but at an early moment he took his departure and straightway hobbled as fast as his lame leg would let him to the Syndic of Baratesta, a very busy and ambitious fellow, who longed greatly to win the Duke's favour. And the tailor set the price of five pieces of gold and the ordering of a new gown on the news he brought; and the Syndic having agreed, the tailor cried, "Antonio of Monte Velluto is at the house of the Peschetti, and his band is not with him. If you hasten, you may catch him." At this the Syndic exulted very greatly; for the Duke's Commissaries would not arrive to assume possession of the house in his name till the morrow, by which time Antonio would be gone; and the Syndic rubbed his hands, saying, "If I can take him my glory will be great, and the gratitude of His Highness also." And he gathered together all his constables, and hard upon twenty discharged soldiers who dwelt in the town, and the fifteen men of the Duke's who were stationed at Baratesta to gather His Highness's dues; and thus, with a force of about fifty men, he set out in great haste for the house of the Peschetti, and was almost come there, before a little boy ran to Giuseppe crying that the Syndic and all the constables and many besides were coming to the house. And Giuseppe, who had but three men-servants of an age to fight, the other five being old (for Cesare had loved to keep those who served him well, even when their power grew less than their will), and moreover perceived that Antonio's four were young and untried, wrung his hands and hastened to the Count with the news, saying, "Yet weak as we are, we can die for you, my lord."
"Heaven forbid!" said Antonio, looking out of the window. "Are they all townsmen that come with this Syndic?"
"Alas, no, my lord. There are certain of the Duke's men, and I see among the rest men who have spent their days under arms, either in His Highness's service or in Free Companies."
"Then," said Antonio, smiling, "unless I am to share Cesare's funeral, I had best be gone. For I have seen too much fighting to be ashamed to run away from it."
"But, my lord, they are at the gates."
"And is there no other gate?"
"None, my lord, save the little gate in the wall there; and see, the Syndic has posted ten men there."
"And he will search the house?"
"I fear that he will, my lord. For he must have tidings of your coming."
"Then where is my horse?" said Count Antonio; and Giuseppe showed him where the horse stood in the shadow of the portico. "Do not let the Syndic know," added Antonio, "that the young men are of my company, and send them away in safety."
"But what do you, my lord?" cried Giuseppe.
"What I have done before, Giuseppe. I ride for life," answered the Count.
Then the Count, delaying no more, ran lightly down the stairs, leapt on his horse, and, drawing his sword, rode forth from the portico; and he was among the Syndic's company before they thought to see him; and he struck right and left with his sword; and they fell back before him in fear, yet striking at him as they shrank away; and he had come clean off, but for one grizzly-haired fellow who had served much in Free Companies and learnt cunning; for he stooped low, avoiding the sweep of Antonio's sword, and stabbed the horse in its belly, and stood wiping his knife and saying, "My legs are old. I have done my part. Do yours; the horse will not go far." In truth the horse was wounded to death, and its bowels protruded from the wound; and Antonio felt it falter and stumble. Yet the gallant beast carried him for half a mile, and then he sprang off, fearing it would fall under him as he sat and he be crushed by it; and he drew his sword across its throat that it might not linger in pain, and then ran on foot, hearing the cries of the Syndic's company as it pressed on behind him. And thus, running, he came to the church of St. John and to the vault of the Peschetti by it; two men were at work preparing for Cesare's funeral, and the door of the vault was open. Antonio hurled one man to the right and the other to the left, and rushed into the vault; for his breath failed, and there was no chance for his life were he overtaken in the open; and before the men regained their feet, he pulled the door of the vault close and sank on his knee inside, panting, and holding his sword in readiness to slay any who entered. Then the Syndic and his company came and called on him to surrender. And Antonio cried, "Come and take me." Then the Syndic bade the workmen pull open the door; but Antonio held it with one hand against them both. Yet at last they drew it a little open; and Antonio lunged with his sword through the aperture and wounded the Syndic in the leg, so that he stumbled backwards with an oath. And after that none was willing to enter first, until the grizzly-haired fellow came up; but he, seeing the aperture, rushed at it sword in hand, fearing no man, not even Count Antonio. But he could not touch Antonio, and he also fell back with a sore gash in his cheek; and Antonio laughed, saying, "Shall I surrender, Syndic?"
Now the Syndic was very urgent in his desire to take Antonio, but his men shook their heads, and he himself could not stand because of the sword-thrust in his leg; and, instead of fighting, his company began to tell of the wonderful deeds Antonio had done, and they grew no bolder by this; and the grizzly-haired fellow mocked them, saying that he would go again at the aperture if two more would attempt it with him; but none offered. And the Syndic raged and rebuked them, but he could not hurt them, being unable to stand on his feet; so that one said boldly, "Why should we die? The Duke's Commissaries will be here to-morrow with a company of the Guard. Let the Count stay in the vault till then. He is in safe keeping; and when he sees the Guard he will surrender. It is likely enough that a great lord like the Count would rather die than give up his sword to the Syndic." Whereat the Syndic was very ill pleased, but all the rest mighty well pleased; and, having heard this counsel, they could by no means be persuaded to attack afresh, but they let Antonio draw the door close again, being in truth glad to see the last of his sword. Therefore the Syndic, having no choice, set twenty to guard the entrance of the vault and prepared to depart. But he cried to Antonio, again bidding him to surrender, for the Guard would come to-morrow, and then at least he could not hope to resist.
"Aye, but to-morrow is to-morrow, Master Syndic," laughed Antonio. "Go, get your leg dressed, and leave to-morrow till it dawn."
So the Syndic went home and the rest with him, leaving the twenty on guard. And to this day, if a man hath more love for fighting than skill in it, folk call him a Syndic of Baratesta.
Count Antonio, being thus left in the vault, and perceiving that he would not be further molested that day, looked round; and though no daylight reached the vault, he could see, for the workmen had set a lamp there and it still burnt. Around him were the coffins of all the Peschetti who had died in five hundred years; and the air was heavy and stifling. Antonio took the lamp and walked round the vault, which was of circular form; and he perceived one coffin standing upright against the wall of the vault, as though there had been no room for it on the shelves. Then he sat down again, and, being weary, leant his head against the wall and soon slept; for a man whose conscience is easy and whose head has sense in it may sleep as well in a vault as in a bedchamber. Yet the air of the vault oppressed him, and he slept but lightly and uneasily. And, if a proof be needed how legends gather round the Count's name, I have heard many wonderful stories of what happened to him in the vault; how he held converse with dead Peschetti, how they told him things which it is not given to men to know, and how a certain beautiful lady, who had been dead two hundred years, having been slain by her lover in a jealous rage, came forth from the coffin, with her hair all dishevelled and a great wound yet bleeding in her bosom, and sang a low sweet wild love-song to him as he lay, and would not leave him though he bade her soul rest in the name of Christ and the Saints. But that any of these things happened I do not believe.
It was late when the Count awoke, and the lamp had burnt out, so that the vault was utterly dark. And as the Count roused himself, a sound strange in the place fell on his ear; for a man talked, and his talk was not such as one uses who speaks aloud his own musings to himself when he is alone (a trick men come by who live solitary), but he seemed to question others and to answer them, saying, "Aye," and "No," and "Alas, sweet friend!" and so forth, all in a low even voice; and now and again he would sigh, and once he laughed bitterly. Then the Count raised his voice, "Who is there?" And the other voice answered, "Which of you speaks? The tones are not known to me. Yet I know all the Peschetti who are here." And Antonio answered, "I am not of the Peschetti save by my mother; my name is Antonio of Monte Velluto." On this a cry came from the darkness, as of a man greatly troubled and alarmed; and after that there was silence for a space. And Antonio said, "There is naught to fear; I seek to save myself, not to hurt another. But how do you, a living man, come to be in this vault, and with whom do you speak?" Then came the sound of steel striking on a flint, and presently a spark, and a torch was lighted; and Antonio beheld before him, in the glow of the torch, the figure of a man who crouched on the floor of the vault over against him; his hair was long and tangled, his beard grew to his waist, and he was naked save for a cloth about his loins; and his eyes gleamed dark and wild as he gazed on Antonio in seeming fright and bewilderment. Then the Count, knowing that a man collects his thoughts while another speaks, told the man who he was and how he came there, and (because the man's eyes still wondered) how that he was an outlaw these three years and more because he would not bow to the Duke's will: and when he had told all, he ceased. Then the man came crawling closer to him, and, holding the torch to his face, scanned his face, saying, "Surely he is alive!" And again he was silent, but after a while he spoke.
"For twenty-and-three years," he said, "I have dwelt here among the dead; and to the dead I talk, and they are my friends and companions. For I hear their voices, and they come out of their coffins and greet me; yet now they are silent and still because you are here."
"But how can you live here?" cried Antonio. "For you must starve for lack of food, and come near to suffocation in the air of this vault."
The man set his hand to his brow and frowned, and said sadly, "Indeed I have forgotten much, yet I remember a certain night when the Devil came into me, and in black fury and jealousy I laid wait by the door of the room where my wife was; and we had been wedded but a few months. There was a man who was my friend, and he came to my wife secretly, seeking to warn her that I was suspected of treason to the Prince: yes, in all things he was my friend; for when I stabbed him as he came to the door, and, rushing in, stabbed her also, she did not die till she had told me all; and then she smiled sweetly at me, saying, "Our friend will forgive, dear husband, for you did not know; and I forgive the blow your love dealt me: kiss me and let me die here in your arms." And I kissed her, and she died. Then I laid her on her bed, and I went forth from my home; and I wandered many days. Then I sought to kill myself, but I could not, for a voice seemed to say, 'What penitence is there in death? Lo, it is sweet, Paolo!' So I did not kill myself; but I took an oath to live apart from men till God should in His mercy send me death. And coming in my wanderings to the river that runs by Baratesta, I found a little hollow in the bank of the river, and I lay down there; and none pursued me, for the Duke of Firmola cared not for a crime done in Mantivoglia. And for a year I dwelt in my little cave: then it was noised about that I dwelt there, and fools began to call me, who was the vilest sinner born, a holy hermit, and they came to me to ask prayers. So I begged from one a pick, and I worked on the face of the rock, and made a passage through it. And I swore to look no more on the light of the sun, but abode in the recesses that I had hollowed out. And I go no more to the mouth of the cave, save once a day at nightfall, when I drink of the water of the river and take the broken meats they leave for me."
"But here—how came you here?" cried Antonio.
"I broke through one day by chance, as I worked on the rock; and, seeing the vault, I made a passage with much labour; and having done this, I hid it with a coffin; and now I dwell here with the dead, expecting the time when in God's mercy I also shall be allowed to die. But to-day I fled back through the passage, for men came and opened the vault and let in the sunshine, which I might not see. Pray for me, sir; I have need of prayers."
"Now God comfort you," said Count Antonio softly. "Of a truth, sir, a man who knows his sin and grieves for it in his heart hath in God's eyes no longer any sin. So is it sweetly taught in the most Holy Scriptures. Therefore take comfort; for your friend will forgive even as the gentle lady who loved you forgave; and Christ has no less forgiveness than they."
"I know not," said the hermit, groaning heavily. "I question the dead who lie here concerning these things, but they may not tell me."
"Indeed, poor man, they can tell nothing," said Antonio gently; for he perceived that the man was subject to a madness and deluded by fancied visions and voices.
"Yet I love to talk to them of the time when I also shall be dead."
"God comfort you," said Count Antonio again.
Now while Antonio and the hermit talked, one of those who guarded the vault chanced to lay his ear against the door, listening whether Antonio moved, and he heard, to his great dread and consternation, the voice of another who talked with Antonio: most of what was said he did not hear, but he heard Antonio say, "God comfort you," and the hermit answer something and groan heavily. And the legs of the listener shook under him, and he cried to his comrades that the dead talked with Antonio, he himself being from fright more dead than alive. Then all came and listened; and still the voice of another talked with Antonio; so that the guards were struck with terror and looked in one another's faces, saying, "The dead speak! The Count speaks with the dead! Christ and the Blessed Mother of Christ and the Saints protect us!" And they looked neither to right nor left, but sat quaking on the ground about the door of the vault; and presently one ran and told the Syndic, and he caused himself to be carried thither in his chair; and he also heard, and was very greatly afraid, saying, "This Antonio of Monte Velluto is a fearful man." And the report spread throughout Baratesta that Count Antonio talked with the dead in the vault of the Peschetti; whence came, I doubt not, the foolish tales of which I have made mention. A seed is enough: men's tongues water it and it grows to a great plant. Nor did any man think that it was the hermit who talked; for although they knew of his cave, they did not know nor imagine of the passage he had made, and his voice was utterly strange, seeing that he had spoken no word to any living man for twenty years, till he spoke with the Count that night. Therefore the whole of Baratesta was in great fear; and they came to a certain learned priest, who was priest of the church of St. John, and told him. And he arose and came in great haste, and offered prayers outside the vault, and bade the unquiet spirits rest; but he did not offer to enter, nor did any one of them; but they all said, "We had determined even before to await the Duke's Guard, and that is still the wiser thing."
For a great while the hermit could not understand what Antonio wanted of him; for his thoughts were on his own state and with the dead; but at length having understood that Antonio would be guided through the passage and brought to the mouth of the cave, in the hope of finding means to escape before the Duke's Commissaries came with the Guard, he murmured wonderingly, "Do you then desire to live?" and rose, and led Antonio where the coffin stood upright against the wall as Antonio had seen it; but it was now moved a little to one side, and there was a narrow opening, through which the Count had much ado to pass; and in his struggles he upset the coffin, and it fell with a great crash; whereat all who were outside the vault fled suddenly to a distance of a hundred yards or more in panic, expecting now to see the door of the vault open and the dead walk forth: nor could they be persuaded to come nearer again. But Antonio, with a great effort, made his way through the opening, and followed the hermit along a narrow rough-hewn way, Antonio's shoulders grazing the rock on either side as he went; and having pursued this way for fifteen or twenty paces, they turned to the right sharply, and went on another ten paces, and, having passed through another narrow opening, were in the cave; and the river glistened before their eyes, for it was now dawn. And the hermit, perceiving that it was dawn, and fearing to see the sun, turned to flee back to the vault; but Antonio, being full of pity for him, detained him, and besought him to abandon his manner of life, assuring him that certainly by now his sin was purged: and when the hermit would not listen, Antonio followed him back to the opening that led into the vault, and, forgetting his own peril, reasoned with him for the space of an hour or more, but could not prevail. So at last he bade him farewell very sorrowfully, telling him that God had made him that day the instrument of saving a man's life, which should be to him a sign of favour and forgiveness; but the hermit shook his head and passed into the vault, and Antonio heard him again talking to the dead Peschetti, and answering questions that his own disordered brain invented.
Thus it was full morning when Antonio came again to the little cave by the river, and bethought him what he should do for his own safety. And suddenly, looking across the river, he beheld a gentleman whom he knew, one Lepardo, a Commissary of the Duke's, and with him thirty of the Duke's Guard; and they were riding very fast; for, having started at midnight to avoid the heat of the sun (it being high summer), so soon as they reached the outskirts of Baratesta, they had heard that Antonio was in the vault, and were now pressing on to cross the bridge and come upon him. And Antonio knew that Lepardo was a man of courage and hardihood, and would be prevented by nothing from entering the vault. But on a sudden Lepardo checked his horse, uttering a loud cry; for to his great amazement he had seen Antonio as Antonio looked forth from the cave, and he could not tell how he came to be there: and Antonio at once withdrew himself into the shadow of the cave. Now the banks of the stream on the side on which Lepardo rode were high and precipitous, and, although it was summer, yet the stream was too deep for him to wade, and flowed quickly; yet at Lepardo's bidding, six of his stoutest men prepared to leap down the bank and go in search of Antonio; and Antonio, discerning that they would do this, and blaming himself for his rashness in looking out so incautiously, was greatly at a loss what to do; for now he was hemmed in on either side; and he saw nothing but to sell his life dearly and do some deed that should ornament his death. So he retreated again along the passage and passed through the opening into the vault; and he summoned the hermit to aid him, and between them they set not one only, but a dozen of the coffins of the Peschetti against the opening, laying them lengthwise and piling one on the top of the other hoping that Lepardo's men would not discover the opening, or would at least be delayed some time before they could thrust away the coffins and come through. Then Antonio took his place by the gate of the vault again, sword in hand, saying grimly to the hermit, "If you seek Death, sir, he will be hereabouts before long."
But the Count Antonio was not a man whom his friends would abandon to death unaided; and while the Syndic was watching Antonio, the four young men who were with the Count made their escape from Cesare's house; and, having separated from one another, rode by four different ways towards the hills, using much wariness. Yet three of them were caught by the Duke's company that watched in the plain, and, having been soundly flogged, were set to work as servants in the camp. But the fourth came safe to the hills, and found there Tommasino and Bena; and Tommasino, hearing of Antonio's state, started with Bena and eighteen more to rescue him or die with him. And they fell in with a scouting party of the Duke's, and slew every man of them to the number of five, losing two of their own number; but thus they escaped, there being none left to carry news to the camp; and they rode furiously, and, by the time they came near Baratesta, they were not more than a mile behind Lepardo's company. But Lepardo, when he had detached the six men to watch Antonio, rode on hastily to find the Syndic, and learn from him the meaning of what he had seen; and thus Tommasino, coming opposite to the mouth of the hermit's cave, saw no more than six horses tethered on the river bank, having the Duke's escutcheon wrought on their saddle-cloths. Then he leapt down, and, running to the edge of the bank, saw a man disappearing into the mouth of the cave, dripping wet; and this man was the last of the six who had swum the river, and were now groping their way with great caution along the narrow track that the hermit had made. Now Tommasino understood no more than Lepardo that there was any opening from the cave to the vault, but he thought that the Duke's men did not swim the river for their pleasure, and he bade Bena take five and watch what should happen, while he rode on with the rest.
"If they come out again immediately," he said, "you will have them at a disadvantage; but if they do not come out, go in after them; for I know not what they are doing unless they are seeking my cousin or laying some trap for him."
Then Tommasino rode after Lepardo; and Bena, having given the Duke's men but the briefest space in which to come out again from the cave, prepared to go after them. And the Duke's men were now much alarmed; for the last man told them of the armed men on the bank opposite, and that they did not wear the Duke's badge; so the six retreated up the passage very silently, but they could not find any opening, for it grew darker at every step, and they became much out of heart. Then Bena's men crossed the river and entered the mouth of the cave after them. Thus there was fair likelihood of good fighting both in the passage and by the gate of the vault.
But the Count Antonio, not knowing that any of his band were near, had ceased to hope for his life, and he sat calm and ready, sword in hand, while the hermit withdrew to a corner of the vault, and crouched there muttering his mad answers and questions, and ever and again hailing some one of the dead Peschetti by name as though he saw him. Then suddenly a coffin fell with a loud crash from the top of the heap on to the floor; for the Duke's men had found the opening and were pushing at it with hand and shoulder. Antonio sprang to his feet and left the gate and went and stood ready by the pile of coffins. But again on a sudden came a tumult from beyond the opening; for Bena and his five also were now in the passage, and the foremost of them—who indeed was Bena himself—had come upon the hindmost of the Duke's men, and the six, finding an enemy behind them, pushed yet more fiercely and strenuously against the coffins. And no man in the passage saw any man, it being utterly dark; and they could not use their swords for lack of space, but drew their daggers and thrust fiercely when they felt a man's body near. So in the dark they pushed and wrestled and struggled and stabbed, and the sound of their tumult filled all the vault and spread beyond, being heard outside; and many outside crossed themselves for fear, saying, "Hell is broke loose! God save us!" But at that moment came Lepardo and his company; and he, having leapt from his horse and heard from the Syndic that Antonio was in very truth in the vault, drew his sword and came at the head of his men to the door; and hearing the tumult from within, he cried in scorn, "These are no ghosts!" and himself with his boldest rushed at the door, and they laid hold on the handles of it and wrenched it open. But Antonio, perceiving that the door was wrenched open, and not yet understanding that any of his friends were near, suddenly flung himself prone on the floor by the wall of the vault, behind two of the coffins which the efforts of the Duke's men had dislodged; and there he lay hidden; so that Lepardo, when he rushed in, saw no man, for the corner where the hermit crouched was dark; but the voice of the madman came, saying, "Welcome! Do you bring me another of the Peschetti? He is welcome!" Then the Duke's men, having pushed aside all the coffins save one, came tumbling and scrambling over into the vault, where they found Lepardo and his followers; and hot on their heels came Bena and his five, so that the vault was full of men. And now from outside also came the clatter of hoofs and hoarse cries and the clash of steel; for Tommasino had come, and had fallen with great fury on those of Lepardo's men who were outside and on the Syndic's levies that watched from afar off. And fierce was the battle outside; yet it was fiercer inside, where men fought in a half-light, scarcely knowing with whom they fought, and tripping hither and thither over the coffins of the Peschetti that were strewn about the floor.
Then the Count Antonio arose from where he lay and he cried aloud, "To me, to me! To me, Antonio of Monte Velluto!" and he rushed to the entrance of the vault. Bena, hailing the Count's voice, and cutting down one who barred the way, ran to Antonio in great joy to find him alive and whole. And Antonio came at Lepardo, who stood his onset bravely, although greatly bewildered to find a party of Antonio's men where he had looked for Antonio alone. And he cried to his men to rally round him, and, keeping his face and his blade towards the Count, began to fall back towards the mouth of the vault, in order to rejoin his men outside; for there also he perceived that there was an enemy. Thus Lepardo fell back, and Antonio pressed on. But, unnoticed by any, the mad hermit now sprang forth from the corner where he had been; and, as Antonio was about to thrust at Lepardo, the hermit caught him by the arm, and with the strength of frenzy drew him back, and thrust himself forward, running even on the point of Lepardo's sword that was ready for Count Antonio; and the sword of Lepardo passed through the breast of the hermit of the vault, and protruded behind his back between his shoulders; and he fell prone on the floor of the vault, crying exultantly, "Death! Thanks be to God, death!" And then and there he died of the thrust that Lepardo gave him. But Antonio with Bena and three more—for two of Bena's five were slain—drove Lepardo and his men back before them, and thus won their way to the gate of the vault, where, to their joy, they found that Tommasino more than held his own; for he had scattered Lepardo's men, and the Syndic's were in full flight, save eight or ten of the old soldiers who had served in Free Companies; and these stood in a group, their swords in their right hands and daggers in the left, determined to die dearly; and the grizzly-haired fellow who had killed Antonio's horse had assumed command of them.
"Here are some fellows worth fighting, my lord," said Bena to Tommasino joyfully. "Let us meet them, my lord, man for man, an equal number of us." For although Bena had killed one man and maimed another in the vault, he saw no reason for staying his hand.
"Aye, Bena," laughed Tommasino. "These fellows deserve to die at the hands of men like us."
But while they prepared to attack, Antonio cried suddenly, "Let them be! There are enough men dead over this matter of Cesare's treasure." And he compelled Tommasino and Bena to come with him, although they were very reluctant; and they seized horses that had belonged to Lepardo's men; and, one of Tommasino's men also being dead, Bena took his horse. Then Antonio said to the men of the Free Companies, "What is your quarrel with me? I do but take what is mine. Go in peace. This Syndic is no master of yours." But the men shook their heads and stood their ground. Then Antonio turned and rode to the entrance of the vault where his band was now besieging Lepardo, and he cried to Lepardo, "Confer with me, sir. You can come forth safely." And Lepardo came out from the vault, having lost there no fewer than five men, and having others wounded; and he was himself wounded in his right arm and could not hold his sword. Then the Count said to him, "Sir, it is no shame for a man to yield when fortune is against him. And I trust that I am one to whom a gentleman may yield without shame. See, the Syndic's men are fled, and yours are scattered, and these men, who stand bravely together, are not enough to resist me."
And Lepardo answered sadly—for he was very sorry that he had failed to take Antonio—"Indeed, my lord, we are worsted. For we are not ten men against one, as I think they should be who seek to overcome my lord Antonio."
To this Antonio bowed most courteously, saying, "Nay, it is rather fortune, sir."
And Lepardo said, "Yet we can die, in case you put unseemly conditions on us, my lord."
"There is no condition save that you fight no more against me to-day," said Antonio.
"So let it be, my lord," said Lepardo; and to this the men of the Free Companies also agreed, and they mingled with Antonio's band, and two of them joined themselves to Antonio that day, and were with him henceforward, one being afterwards slain on Mount Agnino, and the other preserving his life through all the perils that beset the Count's company.
Then Antonio went back to the house of Cesare, and brought forth the body of Cesare, and, having come to the vault, he caused those who had been slain to be carried out, and set the coffins again in decent order, and laid Cesare, the last of the house, there. But when the corpse of the hermit was brought out, all marvelled very greatly, and had much compassion for him when they heard from the lips of Count Antonio his pitiful story; and Antonio bestowed out of the moneys that he had from Cesare a large sum that masses might be said for the soul of the hermit. "For of a surety," said the Count, "it was Heaven's will that through his misfortune and the strange madness that came upon him my life should be saved."
These things done, Antonio gathered his band, and, having taken farewell of Lepardo and commended him for the valour of his struggle, prepared to ride back to the hills. And his face was grave, for he was considering earnestly how he should escape the hundred men who lay watching for him in the plain. But while he considered, Tommasino came to him and said, "All Baratesta is ours, cousin. Cannot we get a change of coat, and thus ride with less notice from the Duke's camp?" And Antonio laughed also, and they sent and caught twenty men of Baratesta, grave merchants and petty traders, and among them Bena laid hold of the Syndic, and brought him in his chair to Antonio; and the Count said to the Syndic, "It is ill meddling with the affairs of better men, Master Syndic. Off with that gown of yours!"
And they stripped the Syndic of his gown, and Antonio put on the gown. Thus the Syndic had need very speedily of the new gown which he had contracted to purchase of the lame tailor as the price of the tailor's information. And all Antonio's men clothed themselves like merchants and traders, Antonio in the Syndic's gown taking his place at their head; and thus soberly attired, they rode out soberly from Baratesta, neither Lepardo nor any of his men being able to restrain themselves from laughter to see them go; and most strange of all was Bena, who wore an old man's gown of red cloth trimmed with fur.
It was now noon, and the band rode slowly, for the sun was very hot, and several times they paused to take shelter under clumps of trees, so that the afternoon waned before they came in sight of the Duke's encampment. Soon then they were seen in their turn; and a young officer of the Guard with three men came pricking towards them to learn their business; and Antonio hunched the Syndic's gown about his neck and pulled his cap down over his eyes, and thus received the officer. And the officer was deluded and did not know him, but said, "Is there news, Syndic?"
"Yes, there is news," said Antonio. "The hermit of the vault of the Peschetti is dead at Baratesta."
"I know naught of him," said the officer.
By this time Antonio's men had all crowded round the officer and his companions, hemming them in on every side; and those that watched from the Duke's camp saw the merchants and traders flocking round the officer, and said to themselves, "They are offering wares to him." But Antonio said, "How, sir? You have never heard of the hermit of the vault?"
"I have not, Syndic," said the officer.
"He was a man, sir," said Antonio, "who dwelt with the dead in a vault, and was so enamoured of death, that he greeted it as a man greets a dear friend who has tarried overlong in coming."
"In truth, a strange mood!" cried the officer. "I think this hermit was mad."
"I also think so," said Antonio.
"I cannot doubt of it," cried the officer.
"Then, sir, you are not of his mind?" asked Antonio, smiling. "You would not sleep this night with the dead, nor hold out your hands to death as to a dear friend?"
"By St. Prisian, no," said the young officer with a laugh. "For this world is well enough, Syndic, and I have sundry trifling sins that I would be quit of, before I face another."
"If that be so, sir," said Antonio, "return to him who sent you, and say that the Syndic of Baratesta rides here with a company of friends and that his business is lawful and open to no suspicion." And even as Antonio spoke, every man drew his dagger, and there were three daggers at the heart of the officer and three at the heart of each of the men with him. "For by saying this," continued the Count, fixing his eyes on the officer, "and by no other means can you escape immediate death."
Then the officer looked to right and left, being very much bewildered; but Tommasino touched him on the arm and said, "You have fallen, sir, into the hands of the Count Antonio. Take an oath to do as he bids you, and save your life." And Antonio took off the Syndic's cap and showed his face; and Bena rolled up the sleeve of his old man's gown and showed the muscles of his arm.
"The Count Antonio!" cried the officer and his men in great dismay.
"Yes; and we are four to one," said Tommasino. "You have no choice, sir, between the oath and immediate death. And it seems to me that you are indeed not of the mind of the hermit of the vault."
But the officer cried, "My honour will not suffer this oath, my lord." And, hearing this, Bena advanced his dagger.
But Antonio smiled again and said, "Then I will not force it on you, sir. But this much I must force on you—to swear to abide here for half-an-hour, and during that time to send no word and make no sign to your camp."
To this the officer, having no choice between it and death, agreed; and Antonio, leaving him, rode forward softly; and, riding softly, he passed within half-a-mile of the Duke's encampment. But at this moment the officer, seeing Antonio far away, broke his oath, and shouted loudly, "It is Antonio of Monte Velluto;" and set spurs to his horse. Then Antonio's brow grew dark and he said, "Ride on swiftly, all of you, to the hills, and leave me here."
"My lord!" said Tommasino, beseeching him.
"Ride on!" said Antonio sternly. "Ride at a gallop. You will draw them off from me."
And they dared not disobey him, but all rode on. And now there was a stir in the Duke's camp, men running for their arms and their horses. But Antonio's band set themselves to a gallop, making straight for the hills; and the commander of the Duke's Guard did not know what to make of the matter; for he had heard the officer cry "Antonio," but did not understand what he meant; therefore there was a short delay before the pursuit after the band was afoot; and the band thus gained an advantage, and Antonio turned away, saying, "It is enough. They will come safe to the hills."
But he himself drew his sword and set spurs to his horse, and he rode towards where the young officer was. And at first the officer came boldly to meet him; then he wavered, and his cheek went pale; and he said to the men who rode with him, "We are four to one."
But one of them answered, "Four to two, sir."
"What do you mean?" cried the officer. "I see none coming towards us but Count Antonio himself."
"Is not God also against oath-breakers?" said the fellow, and he looked at his comrades. And they nodded their heads to him; for they were afraid to fight by the side of a man who had broken his oath. Moreover the figure of the Count was very terrible; and the three turned aside and left the young officer alone.
Now by this time the whole of the Duke's encampment was astir; but they followed not after Antonio, but after Tommasino and the rest of the band; for they did not know Antonio in the Syndic's gown. Thus the young officer was left alone to meet Antonio; and when he saw this his heart failed him and his courage sank, and he dared not await Antonio, but he turned and set spurs to his horse, and fled away from Antonio across the plain. And Antonio pursued after him, and was now very near upon him; so that the officer saw that he would soon be overtaken, and the reins fell from his hand and he sat on his horse like a man smitten with a palsy, shaking and trembling: and his horse, being unguided, stumbled as it went, and the officer fell off from it; and he lay very still on the ground. Then Count Antonio came up where the officer was, and sat on his horse, holding his drawn sword in his hand; and in an instant the officer began to raise himself; and, when he stood up, he saw Antonio with his sword drawn. And Antonio said, "Shall men without honour live?"
Then the officer gazed into the eyes of the Count Antonio; and the sweat burst forth on his forehead. A sudden strange choking cry came from him; he dropped his sword from his hand, and with both hands he suddenly clasped his heart, uttering now a great cry of pain and having his face wrung with agony. Thus he stood for an instant, clutching his heart with both his hands, his mouth twisted fearfully, and then he dropped on to the ground and lay still. And the Count Antonio sheathed his sword, and bared his head, saying, "It is not my sword, but God's."
And he turned and put his horse to a gallop and rode away, not seeking to pass the Duke's encampment, but directing his way towards the village of Rilano; and there he found shelter in the house of a friend for some hours, and when night fell, made his way safely back to the hills, and found that the Duke's men had abandoned the pursuit of his company and that all of them were alive and safe.
But when they came to take up the young officer who had been false to his oath, he was dead; whether from fright at the aspect of Count Antonio and the imminent doom with which he was threatened, or by some immediate judgment of Heaven, I know not. For very various are the dealings of God with man. For one crime He will slay and tarry not, and so, perchance, was it meted out to that officer; but with another man His way is different, and He suffers him to live long days, mindful of his sin, in self-hatred and self-scorn, and will not send him the relief of death, how much soever the wretch may pray for it. Thus it was that God dealt with the hermit of the vault of the Peschetti, who did not find death till he had sought it for twenty-and-three years. I doubt not that in all there is purpose; even as was shown in the manner wherein the hermit, being himself bound and tied to a miserable life, was an instrument in saving the life of Count Antonio.
From the lips of Tommasino himself, who was cousin to Count Antonio, greatly loved by him, and partaker of all his enterprises during the time of his sojourn as an outlaw in the hills, this, the story of the Lady of Rilano, came to my venerable brother in Christ, Niccolo; and the same Niccolo, being a very old man, told it to me, so that I know that the story is true and every part of it, and tread here not on the doubtful ground of legend, but on the firm rock of the word of honest men. There is indeed one thing doubtful, Tommasino himself being unable to know the verity of it; yet that one thing is of small moment, for it is no more than whether the lady came first to Duke Valentine, offering her aid, or whether the Duke, who since the affair of the sacred bones had been ever active in laying schemes against Antonio, cast his eyes on the lady, and, perceiving that she was very fair and likely to serve his turn, sent for her, and persuaded her by gifts and by the promise of a great marriage to take the task in hand.
Be that as it may, it is certain that in the fourth year of Count Antonio's outlawry, the Lady Venusta came from Rilano, where she dwelt, and talked alone with the Duke in his cabinet; so that men (and women with greater urgency) asked what His Highness did to take such a one into his counsels; for he had himself forbidden her to live in the city and constrained her to abide in her house at Rilano, by reason of reports touching her fair fame. Nor did she then stay in Firmola, but, having had audience of the Duke, returned straightway to Rilano, and for the space of three weeks rested there; and the Duke told nothing to his lords of what had passed between him and the lady, while the Count Antonio and his friends knew not so much as that the Duke had held conference with the lady; for great penalties had been decreed against any man who sent word to Antonio of what passed in Firmola, and the pikemen kept strict guard on all who left or entered the city, so that it was rather like a town besieged than the chief place of a peaceful realm.
Now at this time, considering that his hiding-place was too well known to the Lord Lorenzo and certain of the Duke's Guard, Count Antonio descended from the hills by night, and, having crossed the plain, carrying all his equipment with him, mounted again into the heights of Mount Agnino and pitched his camp in and about a certain cave, which is protected on two sides by high rocks and on the third by the steep banks of a river, and can be approached by one path only. This cave was known to the Duke, but he could not force it without great loss, so that Antonio was well nigh as safe as when his hiding-place had been unknown; and yet he was nearer by half to the city, and but seven miles as a bird flies from the village of Rilano where the Lady Venusta dwelt; although to one who travelled by the only path that a man could go upright on his feet the distance was hard on eleven miles. But no other place was so near, and from Rilano Antonio drew the better part of the provisions and stores of which he had need, procuring them secretly from the people, who were very strictly enjoined by the Duke to furnish him with nothing under pain of forfeiture of all their goods.
Yet one day, when the man they called Bena and a dozen more rode in the evening through Rilano, returning towards the cave, the maid-servant of Venusta met them, and, with her, men bearing a great cask of fine wine, and the maid-servant said to Bena, "My mistress bids you drink; for good men should not suffer thirst."
But Bena answered her, asking, "Do you know who we are?"
"Aye, I know, and my lady knows," said the girl. "But my lady says that if she must live at Rilano, then she will do what she pleases in Rilano."
Bena and his men looked at one another, for they knew of His Highness's proclamation, but the day having been hot, they being weary, the wine seeming good, and a woman knowing her own business best, at last they drank heartily, and, rendering much thanks, rode on and told Tommasino what had been done. And Tommasino having told Antonio, the Count was angry with Bena, saying that his gluttony would bring trouble on the Lady Venusta.
"She should not tempt a man," said Bena sullenly.
All these things happened on the second day of the week; and on the fourth, towards evening, as Antonio and Tommasino sat in front of the cave, they saw coming towards them one of the band named Luigi, a big fellow who had done good service and was also a merry jovial man that took the lead in good-fellowship. And in his arms Luigi bore the Lady Venusta. Her gown was dishevelled and torn, and the velvet shoes on her feet were cut almost to shreds, and she lay back in Luigi's arms, pale and exhausted. Luigi came and set her down gently before Antonio, saying, "My lord, three miles from here, in the steepest and roughest part of the way, I found this lady sunk on the ground and half-swooning: when I raised her and asked how she came where she was, and in such a plight, she could answer nothing save, 'Count Antonio! Carry me to Count Antonio!' So I have brought her in obedience to her request."
As Luigi ended, Venusta opened her eyes, and, rising to her knees, held out her hands in supplication, saying, "Protect me, my lord, protect me. For the Duke has sent me word that to-morrow night he will burn my house and all that it holds, and will take me and lodge me in prison, and so use me there that I may know what befalls those who give aid to traitors. And all this comes upon me, my lord, because I gave a draught of wine to your men when they were thirsty."
"I feared this thing," said Antonio, "and deeply I grieve at it. But I am loth to go in open war against the Duke; moreover in the plain he would be too strong for me. What then can I do? For here is no place in which a lady, the more if she be alone and unattended, can be lodged with seemliness."
"If the choice be between this and a prison——" said Venusta with a faint sorrowful smile.
"Yet it might be that I could convey you beyond His Highness's power," pursued Antonio. "But I fear you could not travel far to-night."
"Indeed I am weary even to death," moaned Venusta.
"There is nothing for it but that to-night at least she rest here," said Antonio to Tommasino.
Tommasino frowned. "When woman comes in," said he behind the screen of his hand, "safety flies out."
"Better fly safety than courtesy and kindness, cousin," said Count Antonio, and Tommasino ceased to dissuade him, although he was uneasy concerning the coming of Venusta.
That night, therefore, all made their camp outside, and gave the cave to Venusta for her use, having made a curtain of green boughs across its mouth. But again the next day Venusta was too sick for travel; nay, she seemed very sick, and she prayed Luigi to go to Rilano and seek a physician; and Luigi, Antonio having granted him permission, went, and returned saying that no physician dared come in face of His Highness's proclamation; but the truth was that Luigi was in the pay of Venusta and of the Duke, and had sought by his journey not a physician, but means of informing the Duke how Venusta had sped, and of seeking counsel from him as to what should next be done. And that day and for four days more Venusta abode in the cave, protesting that she could not travel; and Antonio used her with great courtesy, above all when he heard that the Duke, having stayed to muster all his force for fear of Antonio, had at length appointed the next day for the burning of her house at Rilano and the carrying off of all her goods. These tidings he gave her, and though he spoke gently, she fell at once into great distress, declaring that she had not believed the Duke would carry out his purpose, and weeping for her jewels and prized possessions which were in the house.
Now Count Antonio, though no true man could call him fool, had yet a simplicity nobler it may be than the suspicious wisdom of those who, reading other hearts by their own, count all men rogues and all women wanton: and when he saw the lady weeping for the trinkets and her loved toys and trifles, he said, "Nay, though I cannot meet the Duke face to face, yet I will ride now and come there before him, and bring what you value most from the house."
"You will be taken," said she, and she gazed at him with timid admiring eyes. "I had rather a thousand times lose the jewels than that you should run into danger, my lord. For I owe to you liberty, and perhaps life."
"I will leave Tommasino to guard you and ride at once," and Antonio rose to his feet, smiling at her for her foolish fears.
Then a thing that seemed strange happened. For Antonio gave a sudden cry of pain. And behold, he had set his foot on the point of a dagger that was on the ground near to the Lady Venusta; and the dagger ran deep into his foot, for it was resting on a stone and the point sloped upwards, so that he trod full and with all his weight on the point; and he sank back on the ground with the dagger in his foot. How came the dagger there? How came it to rest against the stone? None could tell then, though it seems plain to him that considers now. None then thought that the lady who fled to Antonio as though he were her lover, and lavished tears and sighs on him, had placed it there. Nor that honest Luigi, who made such moan of his carelessness in dropping his poniard, had taken more pains over the losing of his weapon than most men over the preservation of theirs. Luigi cursed himself, and the lady cried out on fate; and Count Antonio consoled both of them, saying that the wound would soon be well, and that it was too light a matter for a lady to dim her bright eyes for the sake of it.
Yet light as the matter was, it was enough for Venusta's purpose and for the scheme of Duke Valentine. For Count Antonio could neither mount his horse nor go afoot to Venusta's house in Rilano; and, if the jewels were to be saved and the lady's tears dried (mightily, she declared with pretty self-reproach, was she ashamed to think of the jewels beside Antonio's hurt, but yet they were dear to her), then Tommasino must go in his place to Rilano.
"And take all save Bena and two more," said Antonio. "For the Duke will not come here if he goes to Rilano."
"I," said Bena, "am neither nurse nor physician nor woman. Let Martolo stay; he says there is already too much blood on his conscience; and let me go, for there is not so much as I could bear on mine, and maybe we shall have a chance of an encounter with the foreguard of the Duke."
But Venusta said to Antonio, "Let both of these men go, and let Luigi stay. For he is a clever fellow, and will aid me in tending your wound."
"So be it," said Antonio. "Let Luigi and the two youngest stay; and do the rest of you go, and return as speedily as you may. And the Lady Venusta shall, of her great goodness, dress my wound, which pains me more than such a trifle should."
Thus the whole band, saving Luigi and two youths, rode off early in the morning with Tommasino, their intent being to reach Rilano and get clear of it again before the Duke came thither from the city: and Venusta sent no message to the Duke, seeing that all had fallen out most prosperously and as had been arranged between them. For the Duke was not in truth minded to go at all to Rilano; but at earliest dawn, before Tommasino had set forth, the Lord Lorenzo left the city with a hundred pikemen; more he would not take, fearing to be delayed if his troop were too large; and he made a great circuit, avoiding Rilano and the country adjacent to it. So that by mid-day Tommasino was come with thirty-and-four men (the whole strength of the band except the three with Antonio) to Rilano, and, meeting with no resistance, entered Venusta's house, and took all that was precious in it, and loaded their horses with the rich tapestries and the choicest of the furnishings; and then, having regaled themselves with good cheer, started in the afternoon to ride back to the cave, Tommasino and Bena grumbling to one another because they had chanced on no fighting, but not daring to tarry by reason of Antonio's orders.
But their lamentations were without need; for when they came to the pass of Mount Agnino, there at the entrance of the road which led up to the cave, by the side of the river, was encamped a force of eighty pikemen under the Lieutenant of the Guard. Thus skilfully had the Lord Lorenzo performed his duty, and cut off Tommasino and his company from all access to the cave; and now he himself was gone with twenty men up the mountain path, to take Antonio according to the scheme of the Duke and the Lady Venusta. But Bena and Tommasino were sore aghast, and said to one another, "There is treachery. What are we to do?" For the eighty of the Duke's men were posted strongly, and it was a great hazard to attack them. Yet this risk they would have run, for they were ready rather to die than to sit there idle while Antonio was taken; and in all likelihood they would have died, had the Lieutenant obeyed the orders which Lorenzo had given him and rested where he was, covered by the hill and the river. But the Lieutenant was a young man, of hot temper and impetuous, and to his mistaken pride it seemed as though it were cowardice for eighty men to shrink from attacking thirty-and-five, and for the Duke's Guards to play for advantage in a contest with a band of robbers. Moreover Tommasino's men taunted his men, crying to them to come down and fight like men in the open. Therefore, counting on a sure victory and the pardon it would gain, about three o'clock in the afternoon he cried, "Let us have at these rascals!" and to Tommasino's great joy, his troop remounted their horses and made ready to charge from their position. Then Tommasino said, "We are all ready to face the enemy for my lord and cousin's sake. But I have need now of those who will run away for his sake."
Then he laid his plans that when the Lieutenant's troop charged, his men should not stand their ground. And five men he placed on one extremity of his line, Bena at their head; and four others with himself he posted at the other extremity; also he spread out his line very wide, so that it stretched on either side beyond the line of the Lieutenant. And he bade the twenty-and-five in the centre not abide the onset, but turn and flee at a gallop, trusting to the speed of their horses for escape. And he made them fling away all that they had brought from the Lady Venusta's house, that they might ride the lighter.
"And I pray God," said he, "that you will escape alive; but if you do not, it is only what your oath to my lord constrains you to. But you and I, Bena, with our men, will ride, not back towards the plain, but on towards the hills, and it may be that we shall thus get ahead of the Lieutenant; and once we are ahead of him in the hilly ground, he will not catch us before we come to the cave."
"Unless," began Bena, "there be another party——"
"Hist!" said Tommasino, and he whispered to Bena, "They will fear if they hear all."
Then the Duke's men came forth, and it fell out as Tommasino had planned; for the body of the Duke's men, when they saw Tommasino's rank broken and his band flying, set up a great shout of scorn and triumph, and dug spurs into their horses and pursued the runaways. And the runaways rode at their top speed, and, having come nearly to Rilano without being caught, they were three of them overtaken and captured by the well at the entrance to the village; but the rest, wheeling to the right, dashed across the plain, making for Antonio's old hiding-place; and, having lost two more of their number whose horses failed, and having slain four of the Guard who pursued incautiously ahead of the rest, they reached the spurs of the hills, and there scattered, every man by himself, and found refuge, some in the woods, some in shepherds' huts; so they came off with their lives. But the men with Tommasino and Bena had ridden straight for the hill-road, and had passed the Lieutenant before he apprehended Tommasino's scheme. Then he cried aloud to his men, and eight of them, hearing him, checked their horses, but could not understand what he desired of them till he cried aloud again, and pointed with his hand towards where the ten, Tommasino leading and Bena in the rear, had gained the hill-road and were riding up it as swiftly as their horses could mount. Then the Lieutenant, cursing his own folly, gathered them, and they rode after Tommasino and Bena.
"Be of good heart," said the Lieutenant. "They are between us and the company of my Lord Lorenzo."
Yet though he said this, his mind was not at ease; for the horses of his men, being unaccustomed to the hills, could not mount the road as did the sure-footed mountain-horses ridden by Tommasino's company, and the space widened between them; and at last Tommasino's company disappeared from sight, at the point where the track turned sharp to the left, round a great jutting rock that stood across the way and left room for but three men to ride abreast between river and rock. Then the Lieutenant drew rein and took counsel with his men, for he feared that Tommasino would wait for him behind the jutting rock and dash out on his flank as he rode round. Therefore for a while he considered, and a while longer he allowed for the breathing of the horses; and then with great caution rode on towards the jutting rock, which lay about the half of a mile from him. And when he came near it, he and his men heard a voice cry, "Quiet, quiet! They are close now!"
"They will dash at us as we go round," said the Lieutenant.
"And we can go no more than three together," said one of the guards.
"Are you all ready?" said the voice behind the cliff, in accents that but just reached round the rock. "Not a sound, for your lives!" Yet a sound there was, as of a jingling bit, and then again an angry, "Curse you, you clumsy fool, be still." And then all was still.
"They are ready for us now," whispered a guard, with an uneasy smile.
"I will go," said the Lieutenant. "Which two of you will lead the way with me?"
But the men grumbled, saying, "It is the way to death that you ask us to lead, sir."
Then the Lieutenant drew his men back, and as they retreated they made a noise great hoping to make Tommasino think they were gone. And, having thus withdrawn some five hundred paces, they rested in utter quiet for half an hour. And it was then late afternoon. And the Lieutenant said, "I will go first alone, and in all likelihood I shall be slain; but do you follow immediately after me and avenge my death." And this they, being ashamed for their first refusal, promised to do. Then the Lieutenant rode softly forward till he came within twenty yards of the rock, and he clapped spurs to his horse and shouted, and, followed close by his men crying, "For God and our Duke!" charged round the jutting rock.
And behold, on the other side of it was not a man! And of Tommasino and his company naught was to be seen—for they had used the last hour to put a great distance between them and their pursuers—save that away, far up the road, in the waning light of the sun, was to be dimly perceived the figure of a man on horseback, who waved his hat to them and, turning, was in an instant lost to view. And this man was Bena, who, by himself and without a blow, had held the passage of the jutting rock for hard on an hour, and thus given time to Tommasino to ride on and come upon the rear of Lorenzo's company before the Lieutenant and his men could hem them in on the other side.
Thus had the day worn to evening, and long had the day seemed to Antonio, who sat before the mouth of the cave, with Venusta by his side. All day they had sat thus alone, for Luigi and the two youths had gone to set snares in the wood behind the cave—or such was the pretext Luigi made; and Antonio had let them go, charging them to keep in earshot. As the long day passed, Antonio, seeking to entertain the lady and find amusement for her through the hours, began to recount to her all that he had done, how he had seized the Sacred Bones, the manner of his difference with the Abbot of St. Prisian, and much else. But of the killing of Duke Paul he would not speak; nor did he speak of his love for Lucia till Venusta pressed him, making parade of great sympathy for him. But when he had set his tongue to the task, he grew eloquent, his eyes gleamed and his cheek flushed, and he spoke in the low reverent voice that a true lover uses when he speaks of his mistress, as though his wonted accents were too common and mean for her name. And Venusta sat listening, casting now and again a look at him out of her deep eyes, and finding his eyes never on hers but filled with the fancied vision of Lucia. And at last, growing impatient with him, she broke out petulantly, "Is this girl, then, different from all others, that you speak of her as though she were a goddess?"
"I would not have spoken of her but that you pressed me," laughed Antonio. "Yet in my eyes she is a goddess, as every maid should be to her lover."
Venusta caught a twig from the ground and broke it sharp across. "Boys' talk!" said she, and flung the broken twig away.
Antonio laughed gently, and leant back, resting on the rock. "May be," said he. "Yet is there none who talks boys' talk for you?"
"I love men," said she, "not boys. And if I were a man I think I would love a woman, not a goddess."
"It is Heaven's chance, I doubt not," said Antonio, laughing again. "Had you and I chanced to love, we should not have quarrelled with the boys' talk nor at the name of goddess."
She flushed suddenly and bit her lip, but she answered in raillery, "Indeed had it been so, a marvel of a lover I should have had! For you have not seen your mistress for many, many months, and yet you are faithful to her. Are you not, my lord?"
"Small credit not to wander where you love to rest," said Antonio.
"And yet youth goes in waiting, and delights missed come not again," said she, leaning towards him with a light in her eyes, and scanning his fair hair and bronzed cheek, his broad shoulders and the sinewy hands that nursed his knee.
"It may well be that they will not come to me," he said. "For the Duke has a halter ready for my throat, if by force or guile he can take me."
She started at these words, searching his face; but he was calm and innocent of any hidden meaning. She forced a laugh as she said, twisting a curl of her hair round her finger, "The more reason to waste no time, my Lord Antonio."
Antonio shook his head and said lightly, "But I think he cannot take me by force, and I know of no man in all the Duchy that would betray me to a shameful death."
"And of no woman?" she asked, glancing at him from under drooping lashes.
"No, for I have wronged none; and women are not cruel."
"Yet there may be some, my lord, who call you cruel and therefore would be cruel in vengeance. A lover faithful as you can have but one friend among women."
"I know of none such," he laughed. "And surely the vengeance would be too great for the offence, if there were such."
"Nay, I know not that," said Venusta, frowning.
"I would trust myself to any woman, even though the Duke offered her great rewards, aye, as readily as I put faith in Lucia herself, or in you."
"You couple me with her?"
"In that matter most readily," said Antonio.
"But in nothing else?" she asked, flushing again in anger, for still his eyes were distant, and he turned them never on her.
"You must pardon me," he said. "My eyes are blinded."
For a moment she sat silent; then she said in a low voice, "But blind eyes have learned to see before now, my lord."
Then Antonio set his eyes on her; and now she could not meet them, but turned her burning face away. For her soul was in tumult, and she knew not now whether she loved or hated him, nor whether she would save or still betray him. And the trust he had in her gnawed her guilty heart. So that a sudden passion seized her, and she caught Antonio by the arm, crying, "But if a woman held your life in her hand and asked your love as its price, Antonio?"
"Such a thing could not be," said he, wondering.
"Nay, but it might. And if it were?"
And Antonio, marvelling more and more at her vehemence, answered, "Love is dear, and honour is dear; but we of Monte Velluto hold life of no great price."
"Yet it is a fearful and shameful thing to hang from the city wall."
"There are worse things," said he. "But indeed I count not to do it;" and he laughed again.
Venusta sprang to her feet and paced the space between the cave and the river bank with restless steps. Once she flung her hands above her head and clasped them; then, holding them clasped in front of her, she stood by Antonio and bent over him, till her hair, falling forward as she stooped, brushed his forehead and mingled with his fair locks; and she breathed softly his name, "Antonio, Antonio!" At this he looked up with a great start, stretching up his hand as though to check her; but he said nothing. And she, suddenly sobbing, fell on her knees by him; yet, as suddenly, she ceased to sob, and a smile came on her lips, and she leant towards him, saying again, "Antonio."
"I pray you, I pray you," said he, seeking to stay her courteously.
Then, careless of her secret, she flashed out in wrath, "Ah, you scorn me, my lord! You care nothing for me. I am dirt to you. Yet I hold your life in my hand!" And then in an instant she grew again softened, beseeching, "Am I so hideous, dear lord, that death is better than my love? For if you will love me, I will save you."
"I know not how my life is in your hands," said he, glad to catch at that and leave the rest of what Venusta said.
"Is there any path that leads higher up into the mountains?" she asked.
"Yes, there is one," said he; "but if need came now, I could not climb it with this wounded foot of mine."
"Luigi and the young men could carry you?"
"Yes; but what need? Tommasino and the band will return soon."
But she caught him by the hand, crying, "Rise, rise; call the men and let them carry you. Come, there is no time for lingering. And if I save you, my Lord Antonio——?" And a yearning question sounded in her voice.
"If you save me a thousand times, I can do nothing else than pray you spare me what is more painful than death to me," said he, looking away from her and being himself in great confusion.
"Come, come," she cried. "Call them! Perhaps some day——! Call them, Antonio."
But as she spoke, before Antonio could call, there came a loud cry from the wood behind the cave, the cry of a man in some great strait. Antonio's hand flew to his sword, and he rose to his feet, and stood leaning on his sword. Then he cried aloud to Luigi. And in a moment Luigi and one of the youths came running; and Luigi, casting one glance at Venusta, said breathlessly, "My lord, Jacopo's foot slipped, and the poor fellow has fallen down a precipice thirty feet deep on to the rocks below, and we fear that he is sore hurt."
Venusta sprang a step forward, for she suspected (what the truth was) that Luigi himself had aided the slipping of Jacopo's foot by a sudden lurch against him; but she said nothing, and Antonio bade Luigi go quick and look after Jacopo, and take the other youth with him.
"But we shall leave you unguarded, my lord," said Luigi with a cunning show of solicitude.
"I am in no present danger, and the youth may be dying. Go speedily," said Antonio.
Luigi turned, and with the other youth (Tommasino told Niccolo his name, but Niccolo had forgotten it) rushed off; and even as he went, Venusta cried, "It is a lie! You yourself brought it about!" But Luigi did not hear her, and Antonio, left again alone, asked her, "What mean you?"
"Nay, I mean naught," said she, affrighted, and, when faced by his inquiring eyes, not daring to confess her treachery.
"I hope the lad is not killed," said Antonio.
"I care not for a thousand lads. Think of yourself, my lord!" And planning to rouse Antonio without betraying herself, she said, "I distrust this man Luigi. Is he faithful? The Duke can offer great rewards."
"He has served me well. I have no reason to mistrust him," said Antonio.
"Ah, you trust every one!" she cried in passion and in scorn of his simplicity. "You trust Luigi! You trust me!"
"Why not?" said he. "But indeed now I have no choice. For they cannot carry both Jacopo and me up the path."
"Jacopo! You would stay for Jacopo?" she flashed out fiercely.
"If nothing else, yet my oath would bind me not to leave him while he lives. For we of the band are all bound to one another as brethren by an oath, and it would look ill if I, for whom they all have given much, were the first to break the oath. So here I am, and here I must stay," and Antonio ended smiling, and, his foot hurting him while he stood, sat down again and rested against the rock.