Leonora D'Orco: A Historical Romance

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  D?RR'S COLLECTION OF STANDARDAMERICAN AND BRITISHAUTHORS.

  EDITEDBY WILLIAM E. DRUGULIN.VOL. 50.--------

  LEONORA D'ORCO.BYG. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.

  LEONORA D'ORCO.A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

  BYG. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.,AUTHOR OF "LORD MONTAGU'S PAGE," "THE OLD DOMINION,""TICONDEROGA," "AGNES SOREL," ETC.

  COPYRIGHT EDITION.

  LEIPZIG: ALPHONS D?RR.1860.

  LEONORA D'ORCO.

  CHAPTER I.

  There is a mountain pass, not far from the shores of the LagoMaggiore, which has been famous of late years for anything but _f?tes_and festivals. There, many an unfortunate traveller has been relievedof the burden of worldly wealth, and sometimes of all earthly cares;and there, many a postillion has quietly received, behind an oak-treeor a chesnut, a due share of the day's earnings from a body of thoseItalian gentlemen whose life is generally spent in working upon thehighways, either with a long gun in their hands or a chain round theirmiddles.

  But, dear reader, the times I speak of were centuries ago--those named"the good old times," though Heaven only knows why they were called"good."

  The world was in a very strange state just then. The resurrection ofart--the recovery of letters--the new birth of science, marked out theage as one of extraordinary development; but the state of societyfrom which all these bright things sprang--flowers rising from adunghill--was one of foul and filthy fermentation, where everywickedness that the corrupt heart of man can devise worked andtravailed for the birth of better things. That pass, in those "goodold times," saw every day as much high-handed wrong and ruthlessbloodshed as any pass in all Italy at the present time.

  But such was not destined to be the case upon the present occasion,though the times of which I write were the end of the fifteenth andthe beginning of the sixteenth centuries. Guilt, and fraud, and evenmurder, often in those days covered themselves with golden embroideryand perfumed flowers; and, interposed between acts of violence,rapine, and destruction, were brilliant festivals, the luxuriousbanquet, and the merry dance.

  Wickedness, like virtue, proposes to itself enjoyment for its object;and the Bible is right when, as it often does, it uses the word wisdomas synonymous with virtue, for in the wisdom of the means is thecertainty of the attainment. But the men of those days, as if theyfelt--how could they avoid feeling?--the insecurity of the ground onwhich they based their endeavours for the acquisition of happiness,were content to take the distant and doubtful payment by instalmentsof fruition, and let the revel, the pageant, the debauch go to thegreat reckoning as so much gained, without thinking of the terrible_per contra_.

  That pass was well fitted to afford a scene for many of the dealingsof those or these days. There the robber might lurk perfectlyconcealed in the dark nooks and crannies of the rocks, to spring forthupon the unwary traveller when least prepared--there a handful of menmight defend the passage against an army--there, the gay, happy partymight raise the wild echo of the mountains to their joyous songs--andthere the artist might linger for long hours, studying the fantasticshapes into which the ground has been thrown, and filling up theshadowy recesses with forms such as Rosa loved to draw.

  For somewhat less than two miles, the road, which, even in those days,was a good and well-constructed highway, passed between two ranges ofrocks. On one side--the left hand, going north--a stream ran by theside of the path, some twenty feet below its level; but the bankitself could be easily descended to the river, and the stream, thoughdeep in some places, was easily to be crossed at others, where itspread out over fallen rocks and stones. But what was the use ofcrossing it? On the other side was no path, and nothing but tall,ragged cliffs, in some places upright and flat, as if they had beencut with a knife, in others assuming the most wild and fantasticforms. Here was a strange grinning face, of gigantic size, startingforth in stone from the surface of the cliff; there a whole statuestanding out from the rocky mass, as if a sentinel guarding the pass;then would come a castle with towers and keep, ballium and barbicanand all, and yet nought but mere rock, wrought by no hands but thoseof time, earthquake, and tempest. But every here and there, frompinnacle and point, or out of dell and cavern, would spring a darkpine or light green ash; and the sight of even vegetable life wouldharmonize the scene with human thoughts.

  The average width of the bottom of the valley, including river androad, might be a hundred yards; but there was one place, nearly at themiddle of the gorge--probably where, in ages far remote, beforehistory or even tradition began, the stream, rushing new-born from themountains, had paused in its course to gather strength ere it forcedits way through the rocky barrier opposed to it--in which a littleamphitheatre appeared, the mountains receding on either hand to letthe river make a circuit round a low knoll and its adjacent meadow,some three hundred yards across. A clump of trees had gatheredtogether on the top of the little hillock, the turf was short andsmooth; the stream, though still rapid, and fretting at the fallenstones in its way, had less of the torrent-like turbulence which itdisplayed where the pass was narrower; now and then, too, it wouldlapse into a quiet, deep, unruffled pool, where the many-colouredrocks and pebbles at the bottom could be seen, glazed and brightenedby its crystal waters; and the white clouds, floating over the deepblue Italian sky, would seem to pause, with curious pleasure, in theirflight, to look down for a moment on that fair spot, amid so muchstony ruggedness.

  Through this wild gorge, toward noon of a soft but breezy spring dayin the year of grace 1494, coming from the northwest, rode a gay, anumerous, and a brilliant party; too few, indeed, to constitute anarmy, but too many and too well armed to fear the attack of any partyof banditti less in number than those great mercenary bands whoseleisure in those days was seldom long enough to rob on their ownaccount, so great was the demand for their services, in the same way,among the princes of the land. And yet the cavalcade of which I speakdid not altogether assume a military aspect. It is true that the rearwas brought up by a body of a couple of hundred lances, and thatbetween these and those who rode foremost were a number of gentlemen,old and young, from beneath whose surcoats glanced corslet andcuissard, and who, though they rode with velvet cap on head andsometimes a hawk upon the wrist, had helmet, and lance, and shieldnear at hand, borne by gay and splendidly-dressed pages. But the mostremarkable group had no warlike signs about it. All men butecclesiastics and serfs, in those days, bore some kind of arms duringtheir most peaceful avocations; and thus there were swords and daggersenough among the little party; but there were men in the robes of theChurch--bishops, and archdeacons, and even a monk or two, while thoseof secular habit looked more like the carpet-treading, soft-lyingchildren of a court than warriors born for strife and conquest.

  Thrown a little in advance of the mass rode two men-at-arms, heavilyharnessed, and behind them, at perhaps twenty paces distance, five orsix others, lance in hand. Then, however, came the principal group, atthe head of which, with a crimson velvet bonnet or round cap on hishead, ornamented with a single large ruby clasping a long, thinfeather, appeared, as it seemed, a mere youth. He was short instature, and somewhat, though not remarkably, deformed; at least, thefall of his wide and fur-trimmed mantle concealed in a great degreethe defect of symmetry in his figure. All, indeed, had been done thatthe tailor's courtly art could do to conceal it, and the eye was moreinclined to rest upon the countenance than upon the form. The face wasnot very handsome, but there was a frank, bold expression about itwhich won upon the regard a
t first sight; and yet a certain look ofsuffering--the trace, as it seemed, of a struggle between a highcourage and bodily infirmity--saddened his aspect. A mere passingstranger would have fixed the age of that young horseman probably ateighteen or nineteen, but he had seen, in reality, between twenty-twoand twenty-three years; and although many vicissitudes had notattended his course, enough experience of the world, and courts, andmen, had been his to have made him older in appearance and older inmind than he was.

  Grouped half a step behind this figure, and stretching quite acrossthe road--for no one would yield a place which he could fairly claimnear the fountain of all honour and the source of advancement--were anumber of cavaliers, of all sorts of callings, distinguished ingeneral by some peculiarity of costume. At least, any eye accustomedto the dress of that day could distinguish among them the hard oldwarrior, the bishop, the high officer of the law, and gay and gallantcourtiers not a few, among whom, holding their rank immediately behindthe principal personage, were six pages, habited in what was calledpurple cloth of gold, mounted on light but beautiful horses, bedizenedwith silken housings, and knots of ribbons, and flaunting feathers.

  Among these last was no rivalry for place, for each had his particularstation assigned to him; but with the rest an occasional angry word,and a more frequent angry look, would mark the indignation of someaspiring courtier at what he thought an attempt upon the part ofanother to get before him.

  "My Lord of Tremouille," said one sharply, "I wish you would refrainyour horse; I have hardly space to ride."

  "He will not be refrained, my reverend lord," replied the other, "'tisan ambitious beast, well nigh as aspiring as a churchman. He willforward, whatever be in his way. Good sooth, he knows his place welltoo, and thinks that, though he might make a poor show in a king'scloset, he may be found better near his sovereign in the march or thebattle than any of the mules of the Church."

  The words were spoken in no very low tone, and probably they reachedthe ears of the young man at the head of the cavalcade; but he took nonotice, though the prelate turned somewhat red, and several who werenear laughed low; and a moment or two after, the whole party emergedfrom the narrower part of the gorge into that little amphitheatrewhich I have lately described.

  "Why, what is here?" cried the leader of the band, reining up hishorse. "This is a scene of fairy land? Who expected to meet with sucha spectacle in this desert?"

  "Why, sire," replied the prelate, "you may remember his Excellency theRegent of Milan promised to meet you somewhere near this spot--atleast before you reached the city."

  "Ah, Louis the Moor knows where to lay chaff for young birds,"muttered La Tremouille; "commend me to these Italians for wheedlingand trickery."

  "Hush, hush!" said one of his companions; "you cannot deny,Tremouille, that this Ludovic is a stout and skilful soldier, as wellas a shrewd politician. I know not how he gained the name of 'TheMoor,' but----"

  "Why, they gave him the name because all his relations die black, orturn black after they die," answered the gallant soldier, with abitter laugh; "but, on my life, the pageant is pretty. 'Tis agallantry not expected in this wild place. Only, my good friend, lookto what wine you drink at Ludovic's expense; it sometimes has astrange taste, and stranger consequences, men say, especially upon hisenemies."

  "I am no enemy," answered the other; "you, look to yourself,Tremouille. You must either dare the boccone or die of thirst."

  "Nay, he will find out that I am one of his best friends," answered LaTremouille; "for I would fain have dissuaded the king from this wildexpedition; and Master Ludovic, who urged it so strongly, will find,before he has done, that, ask a Frenchman to dinner, and he'll stay tosupper also."

  The scene which had excited so much surprise, and even admirationamong the French, derived its principal interest from the ruggednessof the objects around. Some twenty or thirty small tents had beenpitched in the little meadow, round which the river circled, each withits pennon fluttering from the top of the gilt pole which supportedit, while the group of trees upon the little monticule in the midstwas so interlaced, at some eight feet from the ground, with ribbonsand festoons of flowers, that it afforded as complete a shade from thesun as any of the pavilions. The trunks of the trees, too, were boundround with garlands, and although neither Tasso nor Guarini had yetfully revived the taste for the pastoral amongst the Italian people,the groups which were seen, both in the tents and under the branches,were all habited as shepherds and shepherdesses, according to the mostapproved notions of Golden Age costume in those days.

  In each of the pavilions, the canvas door of which was thrown wideopen, was spread a table apparently well supplied, and beneath thetrees appeared a kingly board covered with fine linen and rich plate,while a buffet behind groaned beneath a mass of gold and silver. Butthe sharp eye of La Tremouille soon espied that the two shepherds whostood at either end of the buffet, as well as two more behind it, wereespecially well armed for a pastoral race; and he did not fail tocomment with a laugh upon the anomaly.

  "Pooh! pooh!" cried the young King Charles VIII., turning his headover his shoulder to the stout soldier, but smiling at his remarks,"why should not shepherds have arms? They must defend their muttons,especially when such wolves as you are about!"

  La Tremouille answered with a proverb of very ancient date, "Well,sire, they cannot say I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. God send yourmajesty may not find some in this country, where they are plenty, I amtold. Will you not dismount, sire, to do honour to this festa?"

  "But where are our hosts?" asked Charles, looking round. "My LordArchbishop, can you distinguish among the shepherds, Prince Ludovic orhis fair lady? You have had advantage of us all in seeing theirHighnesses."

  "On my hopes, sire, I cannot tell which they are, if they be here,"replied the prelate. "Here, pretty maiden, will you let us know who isthe lord of this feast, and who are to be the guests?"

  The last words were spoken in Italian to a very handsome, dark-eyedshepherdess, who, with a coquettish air, had passed somewhat near theroyal party. But the girl merely replied by the word "Hark!" bendingher head on one side and affecting to listen attentively. A momentafter, the flourish of some trumpets was heard from the continuationof the pass on the other side of the meadow; and La Tremouille,turning round, gave some orders in a low tone to one of hisattendants. By him they were carried to the rear, and immediately theparty of lances which formed the king's escort put itself in motion,and spread out round one side of the meadow in the form of a crescent,leaving the monarch and his immediate attendants grouped on horsebackin the midst.

  If this was a movement of precaution against any party approachingfrom the other side, it was unnecessary. A moment after, on theopposite side of the meadow, issuing from the gorge like a stream ofgold, appeared a cavalcade which the chroniclers of the day havedelighted to describe as the height of splendour and magnificence. Atits head appeared Ludovico Sforza, nicknamed "the Moor," accompaniedby the Princess of Ferrara his young wife, and followed by the wholecourt of Milan, each vying with the other in luxury and display. "Theprincess," says an Italian writer of the day, "was mounted on a superbhorse, covered with cloth of gold and crimson velvet. She wore a dressof green cloth of gold, floating over which was a light gauze. Herhair, only bound by a ribbon, fell gracefully upon her shouldersand upon her bosom. On her head she bore a hat of crimson silk,surmounted by five or six feathers of red and grey. Her suitecomprised twenty-two ladies of the first rank, all dressed likeherself, and six cars followed, covered with cloth of gold, and filledwith the rarest beauties of Italy."

  It would be tedious as well as difficult to give any description ofthe scene that followed. The two parties soon mingled together.Ceremony and parade were forgotten in gallantry and enjoyment. Theyounger men at once gave themselves up to the pleasures of the hour,and even the older and more sedate warriors and counsellors soon shookoff their frosty reserve under the warming influence of beauty andwine; and thus began the expedition of Charles VIII. to
Naples, morelike some festal pilgrimage than the hostile invasion of a neighbour'sdominions. Thus it began, and thus it proceeded till the end wasobtained, and then the scene changed to hard blows instead of feastsand pageants, and care and anxiety instead of revelry and enjoyment.

  I have said it would be tedious to describe what followed; but therewere episodes in the little drama acted in that wild amphitheatrewhich connect themselves with my story, and must be told.