Love-at-Arms

  Produced by John Stuart Middleton

  LOVE-AT-ARMS

  Being a narrative excerpted from the chronicles of Urbino during thedominion of the High and Mighty Messer Guidobaldo da Montefeltro

  By Raphael Sabatini

  "Le donne, i cavalier', l'arme, gli amori, Le cortesie, l'audace imprese io canto."

  ARIOSTO

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. VOX POPULI

  II. ON A MOUNTAIN PATH

  III. SACKCLOTH AND MOTLEY

  IV. MONNA VALENTINA

  V. GIAN MARIA

  VI. THE AMOROUS DUKE

  VII. GONZAGA THE INSIDIOUS

  VIII. AMONG THE DREGS OF WINE

  IX. THE "TRATTA DI CORDE"

  X. THE BRAYING OF AN ASS

  XI. WANDERING KNIGHTS

  XII. THE FOOL'S INQUISITIVENESS

  XIII. GIAN MARIA MAKES A VOW

  XIV. FORTEMANI DRINKS WATER

  XV. THE MERCY OF FRANCESCO

  XVI. GONZAGA UNMASKS

  XVII. THE ENEMY

  XVIII. TREACHERY

  XIX. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

  XX. THE LOVERS

  XXI. THE PENITENT

  XXII. A REVELATION

  XXIII. IN THE ARMOURY TOWER

  XXIV. THE INTERRUPTED MASS

  XXV. THE CAPITULATION OF ROCCALEONE

  CHAPTER I. VOX POPULI

  From the valley, borne aloft on the wings of the evening breeze, rosefaintly the tolling of an Angelus bell, and in a goat-herd's hut on theheights above stood six men with heads uncovered and bowed, obeyingits summons to evening prayer. A brass lamp, equipped with three beaks,swung from the grimy ceiling, and, with more smoke than flame, shedan indifferent light, and yet a more indifferent smell, throughout thedarkening hovel. But it sufficed at least to reveal in the accoutrementsand trappings of that company a richness that was the more striking bycontrast with the surrounding squalor.

  As the last stroke of the Ave Maria faded on the wind that murmuredplaintively through the larches of the hillside, they piously crossedthemselves, and leisurely resuming their head-gear, they looked at oneanother with questioning glances. Yet before any could voice the inquirythat was in the minds of all, a knock fell upon the rotten timbers ofthe door.

  "At last!" exclaimed old Fabrizio da Lodi, in a voice charged withrelief, whilst a younger man of good shape and gay garments strode tothe door in obedience to Fabrizio's glance, and set it wide.

  Across the threshold stepped a tall figure under a wide, featherlesshat, and wrapped in a cloak which he loosened as he entered, revealingthe very plainest of raiment beneath. A leather hacketon was tightenedat the waist by a girdle of hammered steel, from which depended on hisleft a long sword with ringed, steel quillons, whilst from behind hisright hip peeped the hilt of a stout Pistoja dagger. His hose of redcloth vanished into boots of untanned leather, laced in front and turneddown at the knees, and completed in him the general appearance of amercenary in time of peace, in spite of which the six nobles, in thatplace of paradoxes, bared their heads anew, and stood in attitudes ofdeferential attention.

  He paused a moment to throw off his cloak, of which the young man whohad admitted him hastened to relieve him as readily as if he had beenborn a servitor. He next removed his hat, and allowed it to remainslung from his shoulders, displaying, together with a still youthfulcountenance of surpassing strength and nobility, a mane of jet-blackhair coiffed in a broad net of gold thread--the only article of apparelthat might have suggested his station to be higher than at first hadseemed.

  He stepped briskly to the coarse and grease-stained table, about whichthe company was standing, and his black eyes ran swiftly over the facesthat confronted him.

  "Sirs," he said at last, "I am here. My horse went lame a half-leaguebeyond Sant' Angelo, and I was constrained to end the journey on foot."

  "Your Excellency will be tired," cried Fabrizio, with that readysolicitude which is ever at the orders of the great. "A cup of Pugliawine, my lord. Here, Fanfulla," he called, to the young nobleman who hadacted as usher. But the new-comer silenced him and put the matter asidewith a gesture.

  "Let that wait. Time imports as you little dream. It may well be,illustrious sirs, that had I not come thus I had not come at all."

  "How?" cried one, expressing the wonder that rose in every mind, even ason every countenance some consternation showed. "Are we betrayed?"

  "If you are in case to fear betrayal, it may well be, my friends. As Icrossed the bridge over the Metauro and took the path that leads hither,my eyes were caught by a crimson light shining from a tangle of bushesby the roadside. That crimson flame was a reflection of the setting sunflashed from the steel cap of a hidden watcher. The path took me nearer,and with my hat so set that it might best conceal my face, I was alleyes. And as I passed the spot where that spy was ambushed, I discernedamong the leaves that might so well have screened him, but that the sunhad found his helmet out, the evil face of Masuccio Torri." There was astir among the listeners, and their consternation increased, whilst oneor two changed colour. "For whom did he wait? That was the questionthat I asked myself, and I found the answer that it was for me. If I wasright, he must also know the distance I had come, so that he would notlook to see me afoot, nor yet, perhaps, in garments such as these.And so, thanks to all this and to the hat and cloak in which I closelymasked myself, he let me pass unchallenged."

  "By the Virgin!" exclaimed Fabrizio hotly, "I'll swear your conclusionswere wrong. In all Italy it was known to no man beyond us six that youwere to meet us here, and with my hand upon the Gospels I could swearthat not one of us has breathed of it."

  He looked round at his companions as if inviting them to bear out hiswords, and they were not slow to confirm what he had sworn, in termsas vehement as his own, until in the end the new-comer waved them intosilence.

  "Nor have I breathed it," he assured them, "for I respected yourinjunction, Messer Fabrizio. Still--what did Masuccio there, hidden likea thief, by the roadside? Sirs," he continued, in a slightly alteredtone, "I know not to what end you have bidden me hither, but if aught oftreason lurks in your designs, I cry you beware! The Duke has knowledgeof it, or at least, suspicion. If that spy was not set to watch forme, why, then, he was set to watch for all, that he may anon inform hismaster what men were present at this meeting."

  Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders in a contemptuous indifference which wasvoiced by his neighbour Ferrabraccio.

  "Let him be informed," sneered the latter, a grim smile upon his ruggedface. "The knowledge will come to him too late."

  The new-comer threw back his head, and a look that was half wonder, halfenlightenment gleamed in the black depths of his imperious eyes. He tooka deep breath.

  "It would seem, sirs, that I was right," said he, with a touch ofsternness, "and that treason is indeed your business."

  "My Lord of Aquila," Fabrizio answered him, "we are traitors to a manthat we may remain faithful and loyal to a State."

  "What State?" barked the Lord of Aquila contemptuously.

  "The Duchy of Babbiano," came the answer.

  "You would be false to the Duke that you may be faithful to the Duchy?"he questioned, scorn running ever stronger in his voice. "Sirs, it is ariddle I'll not pretend to solve."

  There fell a pause in which they eyed one another, and their glanceswere almost as the glances of baffled men. They had not looked forsuch a tone from him, and they questioned with their eyes and minds thewisdom of going further. At last, with a half-sigh, Fabrizio da Loditurned once more to Aquila.

  "Lord Count," he began, in a calm, impressive voice, "I am an old man;the name I bea
r and the family from which I spring are honourable alike.You cannot think so vilely of me as to opine that in my old age I shoulddo aught to smirch the fair fame of the one or of the other. To be nameda traitor, sir, is to be given a harsh title, and one, I think, thatcould fit no man less than it fits me or any of these my companions.Will you do me the honour, then, to hear me out, Excellency; and whenyou have heard me, judge us. Nay, more than judgment we ask of you, LordCount. We ask for guidance that we may save our country from the ruinthat threatens it, and we promise you that we will take no step that hasnot your sanction--that is not urged by you."

  Francesco del Falco, Count of Aquila, eyed the old noble with a glancethat had changed whilst he spoke, so that from scornful that it hadbeen, it had now grown full of mild wonder and inquiry. He slightlyinclined his head in token of acquiescence.

  "I beg that you will speak," was all he said, and Fabrizio wouldforthwith have spoken but that Ferrabraccio intervened to demand thatAquila should pass them his knightly word not to betray them in theevent of his rejection of the proposals they had to make. When he hadgiven them his promise, and they had seated themselves upon such rudestools as the place afforded, Fabrizio resumed his office of spokesman,and unfolded the business upon which he had invited the Count amongthem.

  In a brief preamble he touched upon the character of Gian Maria Sforza,the reigning Duke of Babbiano--seated upon its throne by his powerfuluncle, Lodovico Sforza, Lord of Milan. He exposed the man's recklessextravagances, his continued self-indulgence, his carelessness inmatters of statecraft, and his apparent disinclination to fulfil theduties which his high station imposed upon him. On all this Fabriziotouched with most commendable discretion and restraint, as was demandedby the circumstance that in Francesco del Falco he was addressing theDuke's own cousin.

  "So far, Excellency," he continued, "you cannot be in ignorance of thegeneral dissatisfaction prevailing among our most illustrious cousin'ssubjects. There was the conspiracy of Bacolino, a year ago, which, hadit succeeded, would have cast us into the hands of Florence. It failed,but another such might not fail again. The increased disfavour ofhis Highness may bring more adherents to a fresh conspiracy of thischaracter, and we should be lost as an independent state. And the perilthat menaces us is the peril of being so lost. Not only by defectionof our own, but by the force of arms of another. That other is CaesarBorgia. His dominion is spreading like a plague upon the face of thisItaly, which he has threatened to eat up like an artichoke--leaf byleaf. Already his greedy eyes are turned upon us, and what powerhave we--all unready as we are--wherewith successfully to oppose theoverwhelming might of the Duke of Valentinois? All this his Highnessrealises, for we have made it more than clear to him, as we have, too,made clear the remedy. Yet does he seem as indifferent to his danger asto his salvation. His time is spent in orgies, in dancing, in hawkingand in shameful dalliance, and if we dare throw out a word of warning,threats and curses are the only answer we receive."

  Da Lodi paused, as if growing conscious that his manner was becomingover-vehement. But of this, his companions, at least, were allunconscious, for they filled the pause with a murmur of angryconfirmation. Francesco wrinkled his brow, and sighed.

  "I am--alas!--most fully conscious of this danger you speak of.But--what do you expect of me? Why bear me your grievance? I am nostatesman."

  "Here is no statesman needed, lord. It is a soldier Babbiano requires;a martial spirit to organise an army against the invasion that mustcome--that is coming already. In short, Lord Count, we need such awarrior as are you. What man is there in all Italy--or, indeed, whatwoman or what child--that has not heard of the prowess of the Lord ofAquila? Your knightly deeds in the wars 'twixt Pisa and Florence, yourfeats of arms and generalship in the service of the Venetians, arematters for the making of epic song."

  "Messer Fabrizio!" murmured Paolo, seeking to restrain his eulogisticinterlocutor, what time a faint tinge crept into his bronzed cheeks. ButDa Lodi continued, all unheeding:

  "And shall you, my lord, who have borne yourself so valiantly as acondottiero in the service of the stranger, hesitate to employ yourskill and valour against the enemies of your own homeland? Not so,Excellency. We know the patriotic soul of Francesco del Falco, and wecount upon it."

  "And you do well," he answered firmly. "When the time comes you shallfind me ready. But until then, and touching such preparation as must bemade--why do you not address his Highness as you do me?"

  A sad smile crossed the noble face of Lodi, whilst Ferrabraccio laughedoutright in chill contempt, and with characteristic roughness madeanswer:

  "Shall we speak to him," he cried, "of knightly deeds, of prowess, andof valour? I would as lief enjoin Roderigo Borgia to fulfil the sacredduties of his Vicarship; I might as profitably sprinkle incense on adunghill. What we could say to Gian Maria we have said, and since it hadbeen idle to have appealed to him as we have appealed to you, wehave shown him yet another way by which Babbiano might be saved andValentino's onslaught averted."

  "Ah! And this other way?" inquired the Count, his glance wandering backto Fabrizio.

  "An alliance with the house of Urbino," answered Lodi. "Guidobaldo hastwo nieces. We have sounded him, and we have found him well disposedtowards such a marriage as we suggested. Allied thus to the house ofMontefeltro, we should receive not only assistance from Guidobaldo,but also from the lords of Bologna, Perugia, Camerino, and some smallerstates whose fortunes are linked already to that of Urbino. Thus weshould present to Cesar Borgia a coalition so strong that he would neverdare to bring a lance into our territory."

  "I heard some talk of it," said Paolo. "It would have been a wise stepindeed. Pity that the negotiations came to naught!"

  "But why did they come to naught? Body of Satan!--why?" roared theimpetuous Ferrabraccio, as with his mighty fist he smote the tablea blow that well-nigh shattered it. "Because Gian Maria was not in amarrying mood! The girl we proposed to him was beautiful as an angel;but he would not so much as look. There was a woman in Babbiano who----"

  "My lord," cut in Fabrizio hastily, fearing the lengths to which theother might go, "it is as Ferrabraccio says. His Highness would notmarry. And this it is has led us to invite you to meet us here to-night.His Highness will do nothing to save the Duchy, and so we turn to you.The people are with us; in every street of Babbiano are you spoken ofopenly as the duke they would have govern them and defend their homes.In the sacred name of the people, then," the old man concluded, rising,and speaking in a voice shaken by emotion, "and with the people'svoice, of which we are but the mouthpiece, we now offer you the crownof Babbiano. Return with us to-night, my lord, and to-morrow, with buttwenty spears for escort, we shall ride into Babbiano and proclaimyou Duke. Nor need you fear the slightest opposition. One man onlyof Babbiano--that same Masuccio whom you tell us that you sawto-night--remains faithful to Gian Maria; faithful because he and thefifty Swiss mercenaries at his heels are paid to be so. Up, my lord!Let your own good sense tell you whether an honest man need scrupleto depose a prince whose throne knows no defence beyond the hiredprotection of fifty foreign spears."

  A silence followed that impassioned speech. Lodi remained standing,the others sat, their eager glances turned upon the Count, their earsanxiously alert for his reply. Thus they remained for a brief spell,Aquila himself so still that he scarcely seemed to breathe.

  He sat, gripping the arms of his chair, his head fallen forward untilhis chin rested on his breast, a frown darkening his lofty brow. Andwhilst they waited for his answer, a mighty battle was fought out withinhis soul. The power so suddenly, so unexpectedly, thrust within hisreach, and offered him if he would but open his hands to grasp it,dazzled him for one little moment. As in a flash he saw himself Lord ofBabbiano. He beheld a proud career of knightly deeds that should causehis name and that of Babbiano to ring throughout the length and breadthof Italy. From the obscure state that it was, his patriotism andhis skill as a condottiero should render it one of the great Italianpowers--the rival of Floren
ce, of Venice or Milan. He had a vision ofwidened territories, and of neighbouring lords becoming vassals to hismight. He saw himself wresting Romagna mile by mile from the sway of theribald Borgia, hunting him to the death as he was wont to hunt the boarin the marshes of Commachio, or driving him into the very Vatican toseek shelter within his father's gates--the last strip of soil that hewould leave him to lord it over. He dreamt of a Babbiano courted by thegreat republics, and the honour of its alliance craved by them that theymight withstand the onslaughts of French and Spaniard. All this he sawin that fleeting vision of his, and Temptation caught his martial spiritin a grip of steel. And then another picture rose before his eyes. Whatwould he do in times of peace? His was a soul that pined in palaces. Hewas born to the camp, and not to the vapid air of courts. In exchangefor this power that was offered him what must he give? His gloriousliberty. Become their lord in many things, to be their slave in more.Nominally to rule, but actually to be ruled, until, should he fail todo his rulers' will, there would be some night another meeting such asthis, in which men would plot to encompass his downfall and to supplanthim as he was invited to supplant Gian Maria. Lastly, he bethoughthim of the man whose power he was bidden to usurp. His own cousin, hisfather's sister's son, in whose veins ran the same blood as in his own.

  He raised his head at last, and met those anxious faces on which thefitful light was casting harsh shadows. The pale ghost of a smilehovered for a second on the corners of his stern mouth.

  "I thank you, sirs, for the honour you have done me," he made answerslowly, "an honour of which I fear I am all unworthy."

  In strenuous chorus their voices rose to contradict him.

  "At least, then, an honour which I cannot accept."

  There was a moment's silence, and their faces from eager that they hadbeen, grew downcast to the point of sullenness.

  "But why, my lord?" cried old Fabrizio at last, his arms outstretchedtowards the Count, his voice quivering with intensity. "SantissimaVergine! Why?"

  "Because--to give you but one reason out of many--the man you ask me tooverthrow and supplant is of my own blood." And but that his tone wascalm they might have held that he rebuked them.

  "I had thought," hazarded seriously the gay Fanfulla, "that with such aman as your Excellency, patriotism and the love of Babbiano would haveweighed even more than the ties of blood."

  "And you had thought well, Fanfulla. Did I not say that the reason Igave you was but one of many? Tell me, sirs, what cause have you tobelieve that I should rule you wisely and well? It so chances that inthe crisis now threatening Babbiano a captain is needed for its ruler.But let not this delude you, for there may come a season in the fortunesof the State when such a man might be as unfitted for dominion as is thepresent Duke in this. What then? A good knight-errant is an indifferentcourtier and a bad statesman. Lastly, my friends--since you must knowall that is in my heart--there remains the fact that I love myself alittle. I love my liberty too well, and I have no mind to stifle inthe scented atmosphere of courts. You see I am frank with you. It is mypleasure to roam the world, my harness on my back, free as the blessedwind of heaven. Shall a ducal crown and a cloak of purple----" He brokeoff sharply with a laugh. "There, my friends! You have had reasons andto spare. Again I thank you, and deplore that being such as I am, I maynot become such as you would have me."

  He sank back in his chair, eyeing them with a glance never so wistful,and after a second's silence, Da Lodi's voice implored him, in accentsthat trembled with pathetic emphasis, to reconsider his resolve. The oldman would have proceeded to fresh argument, but Aquila cut him short.

  "I have already so well considered it, Messer Fabrizio," he answeredresolutely, "that nothing now could sway me. But this, sirs, I willpromise you: I will ride with you to Babbiano, and I will seek to reasonwith my cousin. More will I do; I will seek at his hands the office ofGonfalonier, and if he grant it me; I will so reorganise our forces, andenter into such alliances with our neighbours as shall ensure, at leastin some degree, the safety of our State."

  Still they endeavoured to cajole him, but he held firm against theirefforts, until in the end, with a sorrowful mien, Da Lodi thanked himfor his promise to use his influence with Gian Maria.

  "For this, at least, we thank your Excellency, and on our part we shallexert such power as we still wield in Babbiano to the end that the highoffice of Gonfalonier be conferred upon you. We had preferred to see youfill with honour a position higher still, and should you later come toconsider----"

  "Dismiss your hopes of that," put in the Count, with a solemn shakeof his head. And then, before another word was uttered, young Fanfulladegli Arcipreti leapt of a sudden to his feet, his brows knit, and anexpression of alarm spreading upon his comely face. A second heremained thus; then, going swiftly to the door, he opened it, and stoodlistening, followed by the surprised glances of the assembled company.But it needed not the warning cry with which he turned, to afford themthe explanation of his odd behaviour. In the moment's tense silence thathad followed his sudden opening of the door they had caught from withoutthe distant fall of marching feet.