AMONGthe members of the Count's household was Fabrizio Tornielli, a cousin of the Orsi on the mother's side. Checco had told him that he wished to talk with Girolamo about the money he owed him, and thought the best opportunity would be when the Count was alone after the meal which he was in the habit of taking at three. But as he was very anxious to find the Count entirely by himself, he begged his cousin to make him a sign when the time came.... Fabrizio had agreed, and we had arranged to stroll about the piazza till we saw him. We came across our friends; to me they looked different from everyone else. I wondered that people as they passed did not stop them and ask what was disturbing them.
At last, one of the Palace windows was opened, and we saw Fabrizio Tornielli standing in it, looking down on the piazza. Our opportunity has come. My heart beat so violently against my chest that I had to put my hand to it. Besides Matteo and myself, Marco Scorsacana, Lodovico Pansecchi and Scipione Moratini were to accompany Checcointo the Palace. Checco took my arm and we walked slowly up the steps while the others followed on our heels. The head of the Orsi had a key of gold, that is to say he was admitted to the ruler's presence whenever he presented himself, and without formality. The guard at the door saluted as we passed, making no question. We ascended to Girolamo's private apartments, and were admitted by a servant. We found ourselves in an ante-room, in one wall of which was a large doorway, closed by curtains....
'Wait for me here,' said Checco. 'I will go in to the Count.'
The servant raised the curtain; Checco entered, and the curtain fell back behind him.
Girolamo was alone, leaning against the sill of an open window. He stretched out his hand kindly.
'Ah, Checco, how goes it?'
'Well; and you?'
'Oh, I am always well when I get among my nymphs.'
He waved his hand to the frescoes on the walls. They were the work of a celebrated artist, and represented nymphs sporting, bathing, weaving garlands and offering sacrifice to Pan; the room had been christened the Chamber of the Nymphs.
Girolamo looked round with a contented smile.
'I am glad everything is finished at last,' he said. 'Eight years ago the stones with which the house is built had not been hewn out of the rock, and now every wall is painted, everything is carved and decorated, and I can sit down and say, "It is finished."'
'It is indeed a work to be proud of,' said Checco.
'You don't know how I have looked forward to this, Checco. Until now I have always lived in houses which others had built, and decorated, and lived in; but this one has grown up out of my own head; I have watched every detail of its construction, and I feel it mine as I have never felt anything mine before.'
He paused a minute, looking at the room.
'Sometimes I think I have lost in its completion, for it gave me many pleasant hours to watch the progress. The hammer of the carpenter, the click of the trowel on the brick were music to my ears. There is always a melancholy in everything that is finished; with a house, the moment of its completion is the commencement of its decay. Who knows how long it will be before these pictures have mouldered off the walls, and the very walls themselves are crumbling to dust?'
'As long as your family reigns in Forli your palace will preserve its splendour.'
'Yes, and it seems to me that as the family will preserve the house, so the house will preserve the family. I feel myself firmer and more settled in Forli; this seems like a rock to which my fortunes can cling. But I am full of hope. I am still young and strong. I have a good thirty years of life before me, and what can one not do in thirty years? And then, Checco, my children! What a proud day it will be for me when I can take my son by the hand and say to him, "You are a full-grown man, and you are capable of taking up the sceptre when death takes it from my hand." And it will be a good present I shall leave him. My head is full of plans.Forli shall be rich and strong, and its prince shall not need to fear his neighbours, and the Pope and Florence shall be glad of his friendship.'
He looked into space, as if he saw the future.
'But, meanwhile, I am going to enjoy life. I have a wife whom I love, a house to be proud of, two faithful cities. What more can I want?'
'You are a fortunate man,' said Checco.
There was a short silence. Checco looked at him steadily. The Count turned away, and Checco put his hand to his dagger. He followed him. As he was approaching, the Count turned again with a jewel that he had just taken from the window sill.
'I was looking at this stone when you came,' he said. 'Bonifazio has brought it me from Milan, but I am afraid I cannot afford it. It is very tempting.'
He handed it to Checco to look at.
'I don't think it is better than the one you have on your neck,' he said, pointing to the jewel which was set in a medallion of gold hanging from a heavy chain.
'Oh yes,' said Girolamo. 'It is much finer. Look at the two together.'
Checco approached the stone he held in his hand to the other, and, as he did so, with his other fingers pressed against the Count's chest. He wanted to see whether by any chance he wore a coat of mail; he did not mean to make the same mistake as the Count.... He thought there was nothing; but he wished to make quite sure.
'I think you are right,' he said, 'but the setting shows off the other, so that at first sight it seemsmore brilliant. And no wonder, for the chain is a masterpiece.'
He took it up as if to look at it, and as he did so put his hand on the Count's shoulder. He was certain now.
'Yes,' said Girolamo, 'that was made for me by the best goldsmith in Rome. It is really a work of art.'
'Here is your stone,' said Checco, handing it to him, but awkwardly, so that when Girolamo wanted to take it, it fell between their hands. Instinctively he bent down to catch it. In a moment Checco drew his dagger and buried it in the Count's back. He staggered forward and fell in a heap on his face.
'Oh God!' he cried, 'I am killed.'
It was the first thing we had heard outside. We heard the cry, the heavy fall. The servant rushed to the curtain.
'They are killing my master,' he cried.
'Be quiet, you fool!' I said, seizing his head from behind and with my hands on his mouth dragging him backwards. At the same moment Matteo drew his dagger and pierced the man's heart. He gave a convulsive leap into the air, and then as he fell I pushed him so that he rolled to one side.
Immediately afterwards the curtain was lifted and Checco appeared, leaning against the door-post. He was as pale as death, and trembling violently. He stood silent for a moment, open-mouthed, so that I thought he was about to faint; then with an effort he said in a hoarse, broken voice,—
'Gentlemen, we are free!'
A cry burst from us,—
'Liberty!'
Lodovico Pansecchi asked,—
'Is he dead?'
A visible shudder passed through Checco, as if he had been struck by an icy wind. He staggered to a chair and groaned,—
'Oh God!'
'I will go and see,' said Pansecchi, lifting the curtain and entering.
We stood still, waiting for him. We heard a heavy sound, and as he appeared, he said,—
'There is no doubt now.'
There was blood on his hands. Going up to Checco, he handed him the jewelled dagger.
'Take this. It will be more use to you than where you left it.'
Checco turned away in disgust.
'Here, take mine,' said Matteo. 'I will take yours. It will bring me good luck.'
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a step was heard outside. Scipione looked out cautiously.
'Andrea Framonti,' he whispered.
'Good luck, indeed!' said Matteo.
It was the captain of the guard. He was in the habit of coming every day about this hour to receive the password from the Count. We had forgotten him. He entered.
'Good-day to you, gentlemen! Are you waiting to see the Count?'
He caught sight of the corpse lying against the wall.
'Good God! what is this? What is—?'
He looked at us, and stopped suddenly. We had surrounded him.
'Treason!' he cried. 'Where is the Count?'
He looked behind him; Scipione and Matteo barred the door.
'Treason!' he shouted, drawing his sword.
At the same moment we drew ours and rushed for him. He parried a few of our blows, but we were too many, and he fell pierced with a dozen wounds.
The sight of the fray had a magical effect on Checco. We saw him standing up, drawn to his full height, his cheeks aflame, his eyes flashing.
'Good, my friends, good! Luck is on our side,' he said. 'Now we must look alive and work. Give me my dagger, Matteo; it is sacred now. It has been christened in blood with the name of Liberty. Liberty, my friends, Liberty!'
We flourished our swords and shouted,—
'Liberty!'
'Now, you, Filippo, take Lodovico Pansecchi and Marco, and go to the apartment of the Countess; tell her that she and her children are prisoners, and let no one enter or leave. Do this at any cost.... The rest of us will go out and rouse the people. I have twenty servants armed whom I told to wait in the piazza; they will come and guard the Palace and give you any help you need. Come!'
I did not know the way to the Countess's chamber, but Marco had been a special favourite and knew well the ins and outs of the Palace. He guided me to the door, where we waited. In a few minutes we heard cries in the piazza, and shouts of 'Liberty.' There came a tramp of feet up the stairs. It wasChecco's armed servants. Some of them appeared where we were. I sent Marco to lead the others.
'Clear the Palace of all the servants. Drive them out into the piazza, and if anyone resists, kill him.'
Marco nodded and went off. The door of the Countess's apartments was opened, and a lady said,—
'What is this noise?'
But immediately she saw us, she gave a shriek and ran back. Then, leaving two men to guard the door, I entered with Pansecchi and the rest. The Countess came forward.
'What is the meaning of this?' she said angrily. 'Who are you? What are these men?'
'Madam,' I said, 'the Count, your husband, is dead, and I have been sent to take you prisoner.'
The women began to weep and wail, but the Countess did not move a muscle. She appeared indifferent to my intelligence.
'You,' I said, pointing to the ladies and women servants, 'you are to leave the Palace at once. The Countess will be so good as to remain here with her children.'
Then I asked where the children were. The women looked at their mistress, who said shortly,—
'Bring them!'
I signed to Pansecchi, who accompanied one of the ladies out of the room, and reappeared with the three little children.
'Now, madam,' I said, 'will you dismiss these ladies?'
She looked at me a moment, hesitating. The cries from the piazza were growing greater; it was becoming a roar that mounted to the Palace windows.
'You can leave me,' she said.
They broke again into shrieks and cries, and seemed disinclined to obey the order. I had no time to waste.
'If you do not go at once, I shall have you thrown out!'
The Countess stamped her foot.
'Go when I tell you! Go!' she said. 'I want no crying and screaming.'
They moved to the door like a flock of sheep, trampling on one another, bemoaning their fate. At last I had the room free.
'Madam,' I said, 'you must allow two soldiers to remain in the room.'
I locked the two doors of the chamber, mounted a guard outside each, and left her.
IWENTout into the piazza. It was full of men, but where was the enthusiasm we had expected, the tumult, the shouts of joy? Was not the tyrant dead? But they stood there dismayed, confounded, like sheep.... And was not the tyrant dead? I saw partisans of Checco rushing through the crowd with cries of 'Death to all tyrants,' and 'Liberty, liberty!' but the people did not move. Here and there were men mounted on barrows, haranguing the people, throwing out words of fire, but the wind was still and they did not spread.... Some of the younger ones were talking excitedly, but the merchants kept calm, seeming afraid. They asked what was to happen now—what Checco would do? Some suggested that the town should be offered to the Pope; others talked of Lodovico Sforza and the vengeance he would bring from Milan.
I caught sight of Alessandra Moratini.
'What news? What news?'
'Oh God, I don't know!' he said with an expression of agony. 'They won't move. I thought they would rise up and take the work out of our hands. But they are as dull as stones.'
'And the others?' I asked.
'They are going through the town trying to rouse the people. God knows what success they will have!'
At that moment there was a stir at one end of the square, and a crowd of mechanics surged in, headed by a gigantic butcher, flourishing a great meat-axe. They were crying 'Liberty!' Matteo went towards them and began to address them, but the butcher interrupted him and shouted coarse words of enthusiasm, at which they all yelled with applause.
Checco came on the scene, accompanied by his servants. A small crowd followed, crying,—
'Bravo, Checco! bravo!'
As soon as the mechanics saw him, they rushed towards him, surrounding him with cries and cheers.... The square was growing fuller every moment; the shops had been closed, and from all quarters came swarming artisans and apprentices. I made my way to Checco and whispered to him,—
'The people! Fire them, and the rest will follow.'
'A leader of rabble!'
'Never mind,' I said. 'Make use of them. Give way to them now, and they will do your will. Give them the body of the Count!'
He looked at me, then nodded and whispered,—
'Quickly!'
I ran to the Palace and told Marco Scorsacana what I had come for. We went into the Hall of theNymphs; the body was lying on its face, almost doubled up, and the floor was stained with a horrible stream of blood; in the back were two wounds. Lodovico had indeed made sure that the Count was safe.... We caught hold of the body; it was not yet cold, and dragged it to the window. With difficulty we lifted it on to the sill.
'Here is your enemy!' I cried.
Then hoisting him, we pushed him out, and he fell on the stones with a great, dull thud. A mighty shout burst from the mob as they rushed at the body. One man tore the chain off his neck, but as he was running away with it another snatched at it. In the struggle it broke, and one got away with the chain, the other with the jewel. Then, with cries of hate, they set on the corpse. They kicked him and slapped his face and spat on him. The rings were wrenched off his fingers, his coat was torn away; they took his shoes, his hose; in less than a minute everything had been robbed, and he was lying naked, naked as when he was born. They had no mercy those people; they began to laugh and jeer, and make foul jokes about his nakedness.
The piazza was thronged, and every moment people entered; the women of the lower classes had come, joining their shrill cries to the shouts of the men. The noise was stupendous, and above all rang the cries of Liberty and Death.
'The Countess! The Countess!'
It became the general cry, drowning the others, and from all quarters.
'Where is the Countess? Bring her out. Death to the Countess!'
A cry went up that she was in the Palace, and the shout became,—
'To the Palace! To the Palace!'
Checco said to us,—
'We must save her. If they get hold of her she will be torn to pieces. Let her be taken to my house.'
Matteo and Pansecchi took all the soldiers they could and entered the Palace. In a few minutes they appeared with Caterina and her children; they had surrounded her and were walking with drawn swords.
A yell broke from these thousands of throats, and they surged towards the little band. Checco shouted out to them to let her go in peace, and they held back a little; but as she passed they hissed and cursed and called her foul names. Caterina walked proudly, neither turning to the right nor to the left, no sign of terror on her face, not even a pallid cheek. She might have been traversing the piazza amidst the homage of her people. Suddenly it occurred to a man that she had jewels concealed on her. He pushed through the guards and put his hand to her bosom. She lifted her hand and hit him in the face. A cry of rage broke from the populace, and they made a rush. Matteo and his men stopped, closing together, and he said,—
'By God! I swear I will kill any man who comes within my reach.'
They shrank back frightened, and taking advantage of this, the little band hurried out of the piazza.
Then the people looked at one another, waiting for something to do, not knowing where to begin. Theireyes were beginning to flame, and their hands to itch for destruction. Checco saw their feeling, and at once pointed to the Palace.
'There are the fruits of your labours, your money, your jewels, your taxes. Go and take back your own. There is the Palace. We give you the Palace.'
They broke into a cheer, a rush was made, and they struggled in by the great doors, fighting their way up the stairs in search of plunder, dispersing through the splendid rooms....
Checco looked at them disappearing through the gateway.
'Now, we have them at last.'
In a few minutes the stream at the Palace gates became double, for it consisted of those coming out as well as of those going in. The confusion became greater and greater, and the rival bands elbowed and struggled and fought. The windows were burst open and things thrown out—coverlets, linen, curtains, gorgeous silks, Oriental brocades, satins—and the women stood below to catch them. Sometimes there was a struggle for possession, but the objects were poured out so fast that everyone could be satisfied. Through the doors men could be seen coming with their arms full, their pockets bulging, and handing their plunder to their wives to take home, while they themselves rushed in again. All the little things were taken first, and then it was the turn of the furniture. People came out with chairs or coffers on their heads, bearing them away quickly lest their claim should be disputed. Sometimes the entrance was stopped by two or three men coming out with a heavy chest or with the pieces of a bedstead. Then the shoutingand pushing and confusion were worse than ever.... Even the furniture gave out under the keen hands, and looking round they saw that the walls and floors were bare. But there was still something for them. They made for the doors and wrenched them away. From the piazza we saw men tear out the window frames, even the hinges were taken, and they streamed out of the Palace heavily laden, their hands bloody from the work of destruction.
All over the town the bells were ringing, and still people surged into the piazza. Thousands had got nothing from the Palace, and they cried out in anger against their companions, envious at their good luck. Bands had formed themselves with chiefs, and they were going about exciting the others. Checco stood among them, unable to restrain them. Suddenly another cry rose from a thousand throats,—
'The Treasury!'
And irresistible as the sea, they rushed to the Gabella. In a few minutes the same ruin had overtaken it, and it was lying bare and empty.
Scarcely one of them remained in the piazza. The corpse was lying on the cold stones, naked, the face close to the house in which the living man had taken such pride; and the house itself, with the gaping apertures from the stolen windows, looked like a building which had been burnt with fire, so that only the walls remained. And it was empty but for a few rapacious men, who were wandering about like scavengers to see whether anything had been left unfound.
The body had done its work and it could rest in peace. Checco sent for friars, who placed it on astretcher, covering its nakedness, and bore it to their church.
Night came, and with it a little peace. The tumult with which the town was filled quietened down; one by one the sounds ceased, and over the city fell a troubled sleep....
WEwere up betimes. The town was ours, except the citadel. Checco had gone to the fortress, which stood above the town, to one side, and had summoned the Castellan to surrender. He had refused, as we expected; but we were not much troubled, for we had Caterina and her children in our power, and by their means thought we could get hold of the castle.
Checco had called a meeting of the Council to decide what should be done with the town. It was purely a measure of politeness, for he had already made up his mind and taken steps in accordance. With the town so troubled, the citadel still in our opponent's hands, and the armies of Lodovico Moro at Milan, it was hopeless to suggest standing alone; and Checco had decided to offer Forli to the Pope. This would give a protection against external enemies and would not greatly interfere with the internal relations. The real power would belong to the chief citizen, and Checco knew well enough whom that was. Further, the lax grasp of the Pope would soon be loosed by death, and in the confusion of a long conclave and a change of rulers, it would not be impossibleto change the state of dependence into real liberty, and for Checco to add the rights and titles of lordship to the power. On the previous night he had sent a messenger to the Protonotary Savello, the papal governor of Cesena, with an account of what had happened and the offer of the town. Checco had requested an immediate reply, and was expecting it every minute.
The Council was called for ten o'clock. At nine Checco received Savello's secret consent.
The President of the Council was Niccolo Tornielli, and he opened the sitting by reminding his hearers of their object, and calling for their opinions. At first no one would speak. They did not know what was in Checco's mind, and they had no wish to say anything that might be offensive to him. The Forlivesi are a cautious race! After a while an old man got up and timidly expressed the thanks of the citizens for the freedom which Checco had bestowed upon them, suggesting also that he should speak first. The lead thus given, the worthies rose, one after another, and said the same things with an air of profound originality.
Then Antonio Sassi stood up. It was he who had advised Girolamo to impose the taxes on the town; and he was known to be a deadly enemy of Checco. The others had been sufficiently astonished when they saw him enter the Council chamber, for it was thought that he had left the town, as Ercole Piacentini and others of the Count's favourites had done. When he prepared to speak, the surprise was universal.
'Our good friend, Niccolo,' he said, 'has calledupon us to decide what shall be done with the town.
'Your thoughts seem to be inclining to one foreign master or another. But my thoughts are inclining to the Liberty, in whose name the town has been won.
'Let us maintain the Liberty which these men have conquered at the risk of their lives....
'Why should we doubt our ability to preserve the Liberty of our ancestors? Why should we think that we, who are descended from such fathers, born from their blood, bred in their houses, should have degenerated so far as to be incapable of seizing the opportunity which is presented to us?
'Let us not fear that the Mighty Monarch, who defends and protects him who walks the path of the Just, will fail to give us spirit and strength to introduce and firmly to implant in this city the blessed state of Liberty.'
At the end of the sentence Antonio Sassi paused to see the effect on his auditors.
He went on,—
'But as the example of Our Master has shown us that the shepherd is necessary for the preservation of the flock; and as He seems to point out our guardian by the success which He has granted to his arms in the extermination of the Wolf, I propose that we surrender our Liberty to the hands of him who is best able to preserve it—Checco d'Orsi.'
A cry of astonishment burst from the Councillors. Was this Antonio Sassi? They looked at Checco, but he was impassive; not even the shadow of a thought could be read on his face. They asked themselves whether this was pre-arranged, whetherChecco had bought his enemy, or whether it was a sudden device of Antonio to make his peace with the victor. One could see the agitation of their minds. They were tortured: they did not know what Checco thought. Should they speak or be silent? There was a look of supplication in their faces which was quite pitiful. Finally, one of them made up his mind, and rose to second Antonio Sassi's motion. Then others took their courage in both hands and made speeches full of praise for Checco, begging him to accept the sovereignty.
A grave smile appeared on Checco's face, but it disappeared at once. When he thought there had been sufficient talking he rose to his feet, and, after thanking his predecessors for their eulogies, said,—
'It is true that we have conquered the city at the risk of our lives; but it was for the city, not for ourselves.... No thought of our own profit entered our minds, but we were possessed by a grave sense of our duty towards our fellowmen. Our watch-words were Liberty and the Commonweal! From the bottom of my heart I thank Antonio Sassi and all of you who have such confidence in me that you are willing to surrender the town to my keeping. In their good opinion I find a sufficient reward for all I have done. But, God knows, I have no desire to rule. I want the love of my fellow-citizens, not the fear of subjects; I look with dismay upon the toils of a ruler. And who would believe in my disinterestedness when he saw me take up the sceptre which the lifeless hand has dropped?
'Forgive me; I cannot accept your gift.
'But there is one who can and will. The Churchis not wont to close her breast to him who seeks refuge beneath her sacred cloak, and she will pardon us for having shaken from our necks the hard yoke of Tyranny. Let us give ourselves to the Holy Father—'
He was interrupted by the applause of the councillors: they did not want to hear further, but agreed unanimously; and it was forthwith arranged that an embassy should be sent to the Governor of Cesena to make the offer. The meeting was broken up amidst shouts of praise for Checco. If he had been strong before, he was ten times stronger now, for the better classes had been afraid of the mob and angry that he should depend on them; now they were won too.
The people knew that the Council was assembled to consult on the destinies of the town, and they had come together in thousands outside the Council House. The news was made known to them at once, and when Checco appeared at the top of the stairs a mighty shout burst from them, and they closed round him with cries and cheers.
'Bravo! Bravo!'
He began to walk homewards, and the crowd followed, making the old grey streets ring with their shouts. On each side people were thronging and stood on tiptoe to see him, the men waving their caps and throwing them in the air, the women madly flourishing handkerchiefs; children were hoisted up that they might see the great man pass, and joined their shrill cries to the tumult. Then it occurred to someone to spread his cloak for Checco to walk on, and at once everyone followed his example, and the people pressed and struggled to lay their garmentsbefore his feet. And baskets of flowers were obtained and scattered before him, and the heavy scent of the narcissi filled the air. The shouts were of all kinds; but at last one arose, and gathered strength, and replaced the others, till ten thousand throats were shouting,—
'Pater Patriæ! Pater Patriæ!'
Checco walked along with bare head, his eyes cast down, his face quite white. His triumph was so great—that he was afraid!
The great procession entered the street in which stood the Palazzo Orsi, and at the same moment, from the gates of the palace issued Checco's wife and his children. They came towards us, followed by a troop of noble ladies. They met and Checco, opening his arms, clasped his wife to his breast and kissed her tenderly; then, with his arm round her waist, the children on each side, he proceeded towards his house. If the enthusiasm had been great before, now it was ten times greater. The people did not know what to do to show their joy; no words could express their emotion; they could only give a huge deafening shout,—
'Pater Patriæ! Pater Patriæ!'
AFTERa while the formal embassy sent to Cesena came back with the message that the Protonotary Savello had been filled with doubts as to whether he should accept the town or no; but seeing the Forlivesi firm in their desire to come under the papal rule, and being convinced that their pious wish had been inspired by the most High Ruler of Kings, he had not ventured to contradict the manifest will of Heaven, and therefore would come and take possession of the city in person.
Checco smiled a little as he heard of the worthy man's doubts and the arguments used by the ambassadors to persuade him; but he fully agreed with Monsignor Savello's decision, thinking the reasons very cogent....
The protonotary was received with all due honour. Savello was a middle-sized, stout man, with a great round belly and a fat red face, double-chinned and bull-necked. He had huge ears and tiny eyes, like pig's eyes, but they were very sharp and shrewd. His eyebrows were pale and thin, so that with theenormous expanse of shaven cheek his face had a look of almost indecent nakedness. His hair was scanty and his crown quite bald and shiny. He was gorgeously dressed in violet. After the greetings and necessary courtesies, he was informed of the state of things in Forli. He was vexed to find the citadel still in the hands of the Castellan, who had been summoned with great courtesy to surrender to the papal envoy, but without any courtesy at all had very stoutly declined. Savello said he would speak to the Countess and make her order the Castellan to open his gates. I was sent forward to inform Caterina of the last occurrences and of the protonotary's desire for an interview.
The Countess had received apartments in the Orsi Palace, and it was in one of these rooms that the good Savello was ushered.
He stopped on the threshold, and lifting up his arm stretched out two fingers, and in his thick, fat voice, said,—
'The peace of God be upon you!'
Caterina bowed and crossed herself. He went up to her and took her hand in his.
'Madam, it has always been my hope that I should some day meet the lady whose fame has reached me as the most talented, most beautiful, and most virtuous of her time. But I did not think that the day of our meeting would be one of such bitterness and woe!'
He expressed himself in measured tones, grave and slow, and very fit to the occasion.
'Ah, lady, you do not know the grief I felt when I was made acquainted with your terrible loss. Iknew your dear husband in Rome, and I always felt for him a most profound affection and esteem.'
'You are very kind!' she said.
'I can understand that you should be overwhelmed with grief, and I trust you do not think my visit importunate. I have come to offer you such consolation as is in my power; for is it not the most blessed work that our Divine Master has imposed upon us, to comfort the afflicted?'
'I was under the impression that you had come to take over the city on behalf of the Pope.'
'Ah, lady, I see that you are angry with me for taking the city from you; but do not think I do it of myself. Ah, no; I am a slave, I am but a servant of his Holiness. For my part, I would have acted far otherwise, not only for your own merits, great as they are, but also for the merits of the Duke, your brother.'
His unction was most devout. He clasped his hand to his heart and looked up to Heaven so earnestly that the pupils of his eyes disappeared beneath the lids, and one could only see the whites. In this attitude he was an impressive picture of morality.
'I beseech you, madam, bravely to bear your evil fortunes. Do we not know that fortune is uncertain? If the city has been taken from you it is the will of God, and as a Christian you must, with resignation, submit yourself to His decrees. Remember that the ways of the Almighty are inscrutable. The soul of the sinner is purified by suffering. We must all pass through the fire. Perhaps these misfortunes will be the means of saving your soul alive. And now thatthis city has returned to the fold of the Master—for is not the Holy Father the Vicar of Christ—be assured that the loss you have suffered will be made good to you in the love of his Holiness, and that eventually you will receive the reward of the sinner who has repented, and sit amongst the elect singing hymns of praise to the glory of the Master of all things.'
He paused to take breath. I saw Caterina's fingers convulsively close round the arm of her chair; she was restraining herself with difficulty.
'But the greatest grief of all is the loss of your husband, Girolamo. Ah, how beautiful is the grief of a widow! But it was the will of God. And what has he to complain of now? Let us think of him clad in robes of light, with a golden harp in his hands. Ah, lady, he is an angel in heaven, and we are miserable sinners upon earth. How greatly to be envied is his lot! He was a humble, pious man, and he has his reward. Ah—'
But she could hold back no longer. She burst forth like a fury.
'Oh, how can you stand before me, uttering these hypocrisies? How dare you say these things to me, when you are enjoying the fruits of his death and my misfortune? Hypocrite! You are the vulture feeding with the crows, and you come and whine and pray and talk to me of the will of God!'
She clasped her hands and lifted them passionately towards heaven.
'Oh, I hope that my turn will come, and then I will show you what is the will of God. Let them take care!'
'You are incensed, dear lady, and you know notwhat you say. You will regret that you have accepted my consolations with disdain. But I forgive you with a Christian spirit.'
'I do not want your forgiveness. I despise you.'
She uttered the words like the hiss of a serpent. Savello's eyes sparkled a little, and his thin lips were drawn rather thinner than before, but he only sighed, and said gently,—
'You are beside yourself. You should turn to the Consoler of Sorrow. Watch and pray!'
'What is it you want with me?' she said, taking no notice of his remark.
Savello hesitated, looking at her. She beat her foot impatiently.
'Quick!' she said. 'Tell me, and let me remain in peace. I am sick of you.'
'I came to offer you consolation, and to bid you be of good faith.'
'Do you think I am a fool? If you have no further business with me—go!'
The priest now had some difficulty in containing himself; his eyes betrayed him.
'I am a man of peace, and I desire to spill no blood. Therefore I wished to propose that you should come with me and summon the Castellan to give up the citadel, which may be the means of avoiding much bloodshed, and also of gaining the thanks of the Holy Father.'
'I will not help you. Shall I aid you to conquer my own town?'
'You must remember that you are in our hands, fair lady,' he answered meekly.
'Well?'
'I am a man of peace, but I might not be able to prevent the people from revenging themselves on you for your refusal. It will be impossible to hide from them that you are the cause of the holding back of the citadel.'
'I can well understand that you would hesitate at nothing.'
'It is not I, dear lady—'
'Ah, no; you are the servant of the Pope! It is the will of God!'
'You would be wise to do as we request.'
There was a look of such ferocity in his face that one saw he would indeed hesitate at nothing. Caterina thought a little....
'Very well,' she said, to my intense surprise, 'I will do my best.'
'You will gain the gratitude of the Holy Father and my own thanks.'
'I put an equal value upon both.'
'And now, madam, I will leave you. Take comfort, and apply yourself to pious exercises. In prayer you will find a consolation for all your woes.'
He raised his hand as before, and, with the outstretched fingers, repeated the blessing.
WEwent to the fortress in solemn procession, the people, as we passed, mingling shouts of praise for Checco with yells of derision for Caterina. She walked on with her stately indifference, and when the protonotary addressed her, repelled him with disdain.
The Castellan was summoned, and the Countess addressed him in the words which Savello had suggested,—
'As Heaven has taken the Count from me, and also the city, I beg you, by the confidence I showed in choosing you as Castellan, to surrender this fortress to the ministers of His Holiness the Pope.'
There was a light tinge of irony in her voice, and her lips showed the shadow of a smile.
The Castellan replied gravely,—
'By the confidence you showed in choosing me as Castellan, I refuse to surrender this fortress to the ministers of his Holiness the Pope. And as Heaven has taken the Count from you, and also the city, it may take the citadel too, but, by God! madam, no power on earth shall.'
Caterina turned to Savello,—
'What shall I do?'
'Insist.'
She solemnly repeated her request, and he solemnly made his reply.
'It is no good,' she said, 'I know him too well. He thinks I am speaking under compulsion. He does not know that I am acting of my own will, for the great love I bear the Pope and the Church.'
'We must have the citadel,' said Savello, emphatically. 'If we do not get it, I cannot answer for your safety.'
She looked at him; then an idea seemed to occur to her.
'Perhaps if I went in and spoke to him he would consent to surrender.'
'We cannot allow you out of our power,' said Checco.
'You would have my children as hostages.'
'That is true,' mused Savello; 'I think we can let her go.'
Checco disapproved, but the priest overruled him, and the Castellan was summoned again, and ordered to admit the Countess. Savello warned her,—
'Remember that we hold your children, and shall not hesitate to hang them before your eyes if—'
'I know your Christian spirit, Monsignor,' she interrupted.
But when she was inside she turned to us, and from the ramparts addressed us with mocking laughter. The fury which had been boiling within her burst out. She hurled at us words of foul abuse, sothat one might have thought her a fishwife; she threatened us with death, and every kind of torture, in revenge for the murder of her husband....
We stood looking up at her with open mouths, dumbfounded. A cry of rage broke from the people; Matteo uttered an oath. Checco looked angrily at Savello, but said nothing. The priest was furious; his big red face grew purple, and his eyes glistened like a serpent's.
'Bastard!' he hissed. 'Bastard!'
Trembling with anger, he ordered the children to be sent for, and he cried out to the Countess,—
'Do not think that we shall hesitate. Your sons shall be hanged before your very eyes.'
'I have the means of making more,' she replied scornfully.
She was lion-hearted. I could not help feeling admiration for the extraordinary woman. Surely she could not sacrifice her children! And I wondered if a man would have had the courage to give that bold answer to Savello's threats.
Savello's expression had become fiendish. He turned to his assistants.
'Let a double scaffold be erected here, at once and quickly.'
The chiefs of the conspiracy retired to a sheltered place, while the mob gathered in the piazza; and soon the buzz of many voices mingled with hammering and the cries of workmen. The Countess stood above looking at the people, watching the gradual erection of the scaffold.
In a little while its completion was announced. Savello and the others came forward, and the priestonce more asked her whether she would surrender. She did not deign to answer. The two boys were brought forward—one was nine, the other seven. As the people looked upon their youth a murmur of pity passed through them. My own heart began to beat a little. They looked at the scaffold and could not understand; but Cesare, the younger, seeing the strange folk round him and the angry faces, began to cry. Ottaviano was feeling rather tearful too; but his superior age made him ashamed, and he was making mighty efforts to restrain himself. All at once Cesare caught sight of his mother, and he called to her. Ottaviano joined him, and they both cried out,—
'Mother! Mother!'
She looked at them, but made not the slightest motion, she might have been of stone.... Oh, it was horrible; she was too hard!
'Once more, I ask you,' said Savello, 'will you surrender the castle?'
'No—no!'
Her voice was quite steady, ringing clear as a silver bell.
Savello made a sign, and two men approached the boys. Then suddenly they seemed to understand; with a shriek they ran to Checco, and, falling at his feet, clasped his knees. Ottaviano could hold out no longer; he burst into tears, and his brother, at the elder's weakness, redoubled his own cries.
'Oh, Checco, don't let them touch us!'
Checco took no notice of them; he looked straight in front of him. And even when the Count had justfallen under his dagger he had not been so ghastly pale.... The children were sobbing desperately at his knees. The men hesitated; but there was no pity in the man of God; he repeated his sign more decisively than before, and the men advanced. The children clung to Checco's legs, crying,—
'Checco, don't let them touch us!'
He made no sign. He held his eyes straight in front of him, as if he saw nothing, heard nothing. But his face! Never have I seen such agony....
The children were torn from him, their hands bound behind their backs. How could they! My heart was bursting within me, but I dared say nothing. They were led to the scaffold. A sobbing cry came from the people and wailed through the heavy air.
The Countess stood still, looking at her children. She made not the slightest motion; she might have been of stone.
The children cried out,—
'Checco! Checco!'
It was heartbreaking.
'Go on!' said Savello.
A groan burst from Checco, and he swayed to and fro, as if he were going to fall.
'Go on!' said Savello.
But Checco could not bear it.
'Oh, God! Stop!—stop!'
'What do you mean?' said Savello, angrily. 'Go on!'
'I cannot! Untie them!'
'You fool! I threatened to hang them, and I will. Go on!'
'You shall not! Untie them, I tell you!'
'I am master here. Go on!'
Checco strode towards him with clenched fists.
'By God, Master Priest, you shall go the way you came, if you thwart me. Untie them!'
In a moment Matteo and I had pushed aside the men who held them, and cut their cords. Checco staggered towards the children, and they with a bound threw themselves into his arms. He clasped them to him passionately, and covered them with kisses. A shout of joy broke from the people, and many burst into tears.
Suddenly we saw a commotion on the castle walls. The Countess had fallen back, and men were pressing round her.
She had fainted.
WEwent home rather troubled. Savello was walking alone, very angry, with a heavy frown between his eyes, refusing to speak.... Checco was silent and angry too, half blaming himself for what he had done, half glad, and Bartolomeo Moratini was by his side, talking to him. Matteo and I were behind with the children. Bartolomeo fell back and joined us.
'I have been trying to persuade Checco to apologise to Savello, but he will not.'
'Neither would I,' said Matteo.
'If they quarrel, it will be the worse for the town.'
'If I were Checco, I would say that the town might go to the devil, but I would not apologise to that damned priest.'
When we reached the Palazzo Orsi a servant came out to meet us, and told Checco that a messenger was waiting with important news. Checco turned to Savello, and said gloomily,—
'Will you come? It may need some consultation.'
The protonotary did not answer, but walkedsulkily into the house. After a few minutes, Checco came to us, and said,—
'The Duke of Milan is marching against Forli with five thousand men.'
No one spoke, but the expression on the protonotary's face grew darker.
'It is fortunate we have preserved the children,' said Bartolomeo. 'They will be more useful to us alive than dead.'
Savello looked at him; and then, as if trying to mend the breach, but rather against his will, said ungraciously,—
'Perhaps you were right, Checco, in what you did. I did not see at the moment the political wisdom of your act.'
He could not help the sneer. Checco flushed a little, but on a look from Bartolomeo answered,—
'I am sorry if I was too quick of tongue. The excitement of the moment and my temper made me scarcely responsible.'
Checco looked as if it were a very bitter pill he had been forced to swallow; but the words had a reasonable effect, and the clouds began to clear away. An earnest discussion was commenced on the future movements. The first thing was to send for help against the Duke Lodovico. Savello said he would apply to Rome. Checco counted on Lorenzo de' Medici, and messengers were forthwith despatched to both. Then it was decided to gather as much victuals as possible into the town, and fortify the walls, so that they might be prepared for a siege. As to the citadel, we knew it was impossible to take it by storm; but it would not be difficult to starveit into surrender, for on the news of the Count's death the gates had been shut with such precipitation that the garrison could not have food for more than two or three days.
Then Checco sent away his wife and children; he tried to persuade his father to go too, but the Orso said he was too old and would rather die in his own town and palace than rush about the country in search of safety. In the troubled days of his youth he had been exiled many times, and now his only desire was to remain at home in his beloved Forli.
The news of Lodovico's advance threw consternation into the town, and when cartloads of provisions were brought in, and the fortifications worked at day and night, the brave citizens began to quake and tremble. They were going to have a siege and would have to fight, and it was possible that if they did not sufficiently hide themselves behind the walls, they might be killed. As I walked through the streets, I noticed that the whole populace was distinctly paler.... It was as if a cold wind had blown between their shoulders, and bleached and pinched their faces. I smiled, and said to them, in myself,—
'You have had the plunder of the Palace and the custom-houses, my friends, and you liked that very well; now you will have to pay for your pleasure.'
I admired Checco's wisdom in giving them good reasons for being faithful to him. I imagined that, if the beneficent rule of the Countess returned, it would fare ill with those who had taken part in the looting....
Checco had caused his family to leave the town assecretly as possible; the preparations had been made with the greatest care, and the departure effected under cover of night. But it leaked out, and then the care he had taken in concealing the affair made it more talked of. They asked why Checco had sent away his wife and children. Was he afraid of the siege? Did he intend to leave them himself? At the idea of a betrayal, anger mixed itself with their fear, and they cried out against him! And why did he want to do it so secretly? Why should he try to conceal it? A thousand answers were given, and all more or less discreditable to Checco. His wonderful popularity had taken long enough to reach the point when he had walked through the streets amidst showers of narcissi; but it looked as if less days would destroy it than years had built it up. Already he could walk out without being surrounded by the mob and carried about in triumph. The shouts of joy had ceased to be a burden to him; and no one cried 'Pater Patriæ' as he passed. Checco pretended to notice no change, but in his heart it tormented him terribly. The change had begun on the day of the fiasco at the fortress; people blamed the leaders for letting the Countess out of their hands, and it was a perpetual terror to them to have the enemy in their very midst. It would have been bearable to stand an ordinary siege, but when they had their own citadel against them, what could they do?
The townspeople knew that help was coming from Rome and Florence, and the general hope was that the friendly armies would arrive before the terrible Duke. Strange stories were circulated about Lodovico.People who had seen him at Milan described his sallow face with the large, hooked nose and the broad, heavy chin. Others told of his cruelty. It was notorious that he had murdered his nephew after keeping him a prisoner for years. They remembered how he had crushed the revolt of a subject town, hanging in the market-place the whole council, young and old, and afterwards hunting up everyone suspected of complicity, and ruthlessly putting them to death, so that a third of the population had perished. The Forlivesi shuddered, and looked anxiously along the roads by which the friendly armies were expected.
Lorenzo de' Medici refused to help.
There was almost a tumult in the town when the news was told. He said that the position of Florence made it impossible for him to send troops at the present moment, but later he would be able to do whatever we wished. It meant that he intended to wait and see how things turned out, without coming to open war with the Duke unless it was certain that victory would be on our side. Checco was furious, and the people were furious with Checco. He had depended entirely on the help from Florence, and when it failed the citizens murmured openly against him, saying that he had entered into this thing without preparation, without thought of the future. We begged Checco not to show himself in the town that day, but he insisted. The people looked at him as he passed, keeping perfect silence. As yet they neither praised nor blamed, but how long would it be before they refrained from cursing him they had blessed? Checco walked through with set face, verypale. We asked him to turn back, but he refused, slackening his pace to prolong the walk, as if it gave him a certain painful pleasure to drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs. In the piazza we saw two councillors talking together; they crossed over to the other side, pretending not to see us.
Now our only hope was in Rome. The Pope had sent a messenger to say that he was preparing an army, and bidding us keep steadfast and firm. Savello posted the notice up in the market-place, and the crowd that read broke out into praises of the Pope and Savello. And as Checco's influence diminished Savello's increased; the protonotary began to take greater authority in the councils, and often he seemed to contradict Checco for the mere pleasure of overbearing and humiliating him. Checco became more taciturn and gloomy every day.
But the high spirits of the townsmen sank when it was announced that Lodovico's army was within a day's march, and nothing had been heard from Rome. Messengers were sent urging the Pope to hasten his army, or at least to send a few troops to divert the enemy and encourage the people. The citizens mounted the ramparts and watched the two roads—the road that led from Milan and the road that led to Rome. The Duke was coming nearer and nearer; the peasants began to flock into the town, with their families, their cattle, and such property as they had been able to carry with them. They said the Duke was approaching with a mighty army, and that he had vowed to put all the inhabitants to the sword to revenge the death of his brother. The fear of the fugitives spread to the citizens, and there was ageneral panic. The gates were closed, and all grown men summoned to arms. Then they began to lament, asking what inexperienced townsmen could do against the trained army of the Duke, and the women wept and implored their husbands not to risk their precious lives; and above all rose the murmur against Checco.
When would the army come from Rome? They asked the country folk, but they had heard of nothing; they looked and looked, but the road was empty.
And suddenly over the hills was seen appearing the vanguard of the Duke's army. The troops wound down into the plain, and others appeared on the brow of the hills; slowly they marched down and others again appeared, and others and others, and still they appeared on the summit and wound down into the plain. They wondered, horror-stricken, how large the army was—five, ten, twenty thousand men! Would it never end? They were panic-stricken. At last the whole army descended and halted; there was a confusion of commands, a rushing hither and thither, a bustling, a troubling; it looked like a colony of ants furnishing their winter home. The camp was marked out, entrenchments were made, tents erected, and Forli was in a state of siege.
THEnight fell and was passed without sleep or rest. The citizens were gathered together on the walls, talking anxiously, trying to pierce the darkness to see the rescuing army from Rome. Now and then someone thought he heard the tramp of cavalry or saw a gleam of armour, and then they stood still, holding their breaths, listening. But they heard nothing, saw nothing.... Others were assembled in the piazza, and with them a crowd of women and children; the churches were full of women praying and weeping. The night seemed endless. At last a greater chilliness of the air told them that the dawn was at hand; gradually the darkness seemed to thin away into a cold pallor, and above a bank of cloud in the east appeared a sickly light. More anxiously than ever our eyes turned towards Rome; the mist hid the country from us, but some of the watchers thought they saw a black mass, far away. They pointed it out to the others, and all watched eagerly; but the black mass grew neither larger nor clearer nor nearer; and as great yellow rays shot up above the clouds, and the sun rose slowly, we saw the road stretched out before us, and it was empty, empty, empty.
It was almost a sob that burst from them, and moaningly they asked when help was coming. At that moment a man ascended the ramparts and told us that the protonotary had received a letter from the Pope, in which he informed him that relief was on the way. A cheer broke from us. At last!
The siege began in earnest with a simultaneous attack on the four gates of the town, but they were well defended, and the enemy easily beaten off. But all at once we heard a great sound of firing, and shouts, and shrieks, and we saw flames burst from the roof of a house. In our thought of Lodovico we had forgotten the enemy in our midst, and a terrible panic broke out when it was found that the citadel had opened fire. The Castellan had turned his cannon on the houses surrounding the fortress, and the damage was terrible. The inhabitants hurried out for their lives, taking with them their chattels and fled to safer parts of the town. One house had been set on fire and for a while we feared that others would catch and a general conflagration be added to our woes. People said it was a visitation of God; they talked of Divine vengeance for the murder of the Count, and when Checco hurried to the scene of the fire they did not care to restrain themselves any longer, but broke out into yells and hisses. Afterwards, when the flames had been extinguished and Checco was passing through the piazza, they surrounded him, hooting, and would not let him pass.
'Curs!' he hissed, looking at them furiously, with clenched fists. Then, as if unable to contain himself he drew his sword, shouting,—
'Let me pass!'
They shrank back and he went his way. But immediately he had gone the storm redoubled, and the place rang with their cries.
'By God,' said Checco, 'how willingly I would turn the cannon on them and mow them down like grass!'
They were the first words he had said of the change of feeling....
It was the same with us, when we walked through the streets—Matteo and I and the Moratini—they hissed and groaned at us. And a week before they would have licked our boots and kissed the ground we trod on!
The bombardment continued, outside and in, and it was reported through the town that Lodovico had vowed to sack the place and hang every third citizen. They knew he was the man to keep his word. The murmurs began to grow even louder, and voices were heard suggesting a surrender.... It had occurred to all of them, and when the most timid, driven to boldness by their fear, spoke the word, they looked at one another guiltily. They gathered together in little knots, talking in undertones, suspicious, stopping suddenly if they saw near anyone who was known to be in favour of the party of Liberty. They discussed how to make terms for themselves; some suggested giving up the town unconditionally, others proposed an agreement. At last they spoke of appeasing the Duke by handing over to him the seventeen conspirators who had planned the murder of Girolamo. The thought frightened them at first, but they soon became used to it. They said the Orsi had really had no thought of the common good, but it was fortheir private ends that they had killed the Count and brought this evil on the town. They railed against Checco for making them suffer for his own ambition; they had lauded him to the skies for refusing the sovereignty, but now they said he had only feigned, and that he intended to seize the city at the first good opportunity. And as to the others, they had helped for greed and petty malice. As they talked they grew more excited, and soon they said it would only be justice to hand over to the Duke the authors of their troubles.
The day passed, and the second night, but there were no signs of the help from Rome.
Another night passed by and still nothing came; the dawn, and the road was as empty as before.
And the fourth night came and went and still there was nothing. Then a great discouragement fell upon the people; the army was on the way, but why did it not arrive? Suddenly here and there people were heard asking about the letter from the Pope. No one had seen the messenger. How had it come? And a horrible suspicion seized the people, so that they rushed to the Palazzo Orsi, asking for Savello. As soon as he appeared they broke out clamorously.
'Show us the letter!'
Savello refused! They insisted; they asked for the messenger who had brought it. Savello said he had been sent back. None of us had seen letter or messenger; the suspicion seized us too, and Checco asked,—
'Is there a letter?'
Savello looked at him for a moment, and answered,—
'No!'
'Oh God, why did you say there was?'
'I felt sure the army was on the way. I wanted to give them confidence.'
'You fool! Now they will believe nothing. You fool, you have muddled everything!'
'It is you! You told me that the city was firm for the Pope.'
'So it was till you came with your lies and your treacheries.'
Savello closed his fist, and I thought he was going to strike Checco. A yell burst from the people.
'The letter! the messenger!'
Checco sprang to the window.
'There is no letter! The protonotary has lied to you. No help is coming from Rome nor from Florence!'
The people yelled again, and another cry arose,—
'Surrender! Surrender!'
'Surrender at your pleasure,' shouted Checco, 'but do not think that the Duke will forgive you for stripping the Count and insulting his body and sacking his Palace.'
Savello was standing alone, struck dumb in his rage. Checco turned to him and smiled mockingly.