Romance of Roman Villas Part 26

With a disconcerting chuckle Radicofani suited his action to the word, and busied himself with preparations for the journey, taking care, however, as he strode from ante-room to bed-chamber to keep his prisoner constantly in sight. The latter's hope of escape had reached a low ebb when Malespini knocked timidly. He had brought certain papers which the Signor had left in the library. Captain Radicofani received the secretary distrustfully and bestowed the papers among his own effects.

"I will look them over," he commented, "and if innocent pa.s.s them on to our friend before we arrive in Florence."

Malespini retreated deferentially, but, once outside the door he executed a silent war-dance as an outlet for his rage. In its eccentric evolutions he hurtled against a servant bringing the luncheon, and fully half of the viands poured like an avalanche down the stairs. While the man strove to gather up the broken crockery the secretary s.n.a.t.c.hed the tray and with ill-concealed triumph re-entered the apartment.

"Is this all you have brought?" grumbled the disappointed Captain.

"Truly," replied the wily Malespini, "this light collation was intended solely for his highness the Earl of Ess.e.x, who I hear must keep his room. For your lords.h.i.+p dinner awaits in the banquet-room, where the Grand d.u.c.h.ess has ordered a boar's-head, stuffed with sage and onions, together with a pasty of pheasants, and where she will serve you with her own hands a stirrup-cup of the Grand Duke's oldest vintage."

Captain Radicofani sprang up with alacrity, but noticing that Malespini was edging nearer to his friend, ordered the secretary gruffly to pa.s.s out before him.

"Behind the bed," said Malespini in a low voice to the prisoner, as he lighted one of the tapers in the mantel candelabra, "and take all of these candles, _all_ or you are lost."

"Idiot," shouted the Captain; "it is not yet noon. What need of lights?

Play me no tricks, but leave the room."

Springing from his chair as soon as the door had closed behind Radicofani, Brandilancia examined the huge state-bedstead, and with a little exertion trundled it forward. Behind its tapestry hangings a secret door, suspected only by a crack in the wainscotting, opened beneath his prying fingers, and revealed a spiral staircase leading downward into pitchy darkness. Comprehending Malespini's admonition, he hastily appropriated the candles, and, drawing the bedstead into its place behind him, descended the dizzily circling steps. Eighty-seven he counted, twisting round and round within the turret, and then he paused, for he distinctly heard the sound of rus.h.i.+ng water. The air had become moist as well as cool, and the steps were green and slippery with moss.

Advancing with more caution, he presently found himself in a vaulted pa.s.sage a little higher than his head, where a narrow pathway followed a conduit of dark water, which reflected the flame of his candle in a thousand glancing sparkles.

II

IN WHICH IT IS DEMONSTRATED THAT IT IS SOMETIMES EASIER TO SET OUT UPON A QUEST THAN TO RETURN THEREFROM

It was the Aqua Virgo, the old subterranean aqueduct built by the Emperor Claudius, that pierced the hill beneath the Villa Medici, in which Brandilancia now found himself. If he turned to the left he knew he would soon find egress through the doorway to which the chance fluttering of Marie de' Medici's fan had led him. But this would be to appear upon the streets of Rome in open day, and to run the risk of seizure by Radicofani's guards. Moreover, Malespini's advice to provide himself with so many candles was significant, and Brandilancia unhesitatingly chose the longer way, not doubting that it would finally lead him into the open country.

The stream at his side was of considerable volume and flowed with great swiftness, while the shelf upon which he was advancing was hardly more than ten inches broad. Both it and the wall were slimy with dampness, giving no secure hold to hand or foot. The pathway mounted steadily, and apparently pursued a straight course, but no opening showed itself in the distance, and the light of his taper penetrated but a little way into the blackness. As he glanced backward his shadow loomed in a gigantic and almost unrecognisable form, following him waveringly like a malevolent spirit. His footsteps woke hollow reverberations; the water gurgled and sobbed, and an odor suggestive of the tomb added to the impression that he was wandering in some unexplored catacomb. He could proceed but slowly, and the low temperature chilled him to the bone, but he pushed on resolutely as it seemed to him for interminable hours. "I shall go mad," he thought, "if there is no change in this deadly monotony," and at that instant the vault echoed with the beat of hurrying footsteps.

Brandilancia could see the distant flare of torches, and he knew that his candle was as plainly visible to his pursuers. He dared not extinguish it, but quickened his pace to a run, slipping, almost falling into the water as he dashed recklessly forward. Suddenly, but not an instant too soon, he halted before a void. The pathway had disappeared; another step and he would have plunged into a reservoir of unknown depth which yawned without a barrier before him.

As he lifted his candle and peered across the wide expanse he saw that the tunnel was closed directly opposite him by a wall of solid masonry, and in his dismay almost a minute elapsed before he discovered to the left an open archway which indicated that the tunnel here turned at an angle. But how should he cross to this doorway? The coping which separated the cistern from the ca.n.a.l in the centre of the tunnel was too narrow and the water poured over it noisily. He was about to attempt swimming when he noticed that he was standing upon a plank, evidently placed here to be used as a bridge. He retreated a few steps and pushed it cautiously forward. It reached across the cistern and rested upon the sill of the arched doorway.

In the brief interval thus consumed the footsteps had gained upon him and in the light of the approaching torches he plainly recognised Radicofani, who shouted to him to surrender. Thus beset he ventured the crossing, but the plank was rotten and broke under his weight, falling with him into the reservoir. He struck out in the direction in which he imagined the archway to be, by good fortune found it by feeling along the wall, and clambered upon the ledge which ran along the side of the conduit as in the first tunnel.

He had suffered no other harm than the thorough wetting and the loss of his candles, and the torches of his pursuers, who had now reached the opposite side of the cistern, showed that the tunnel was slightly wider than its opening, and that by hugging the wall he was not visible to Radicofani. The latter had heard the splash and regarded the water dubiously.

"Have you gone to the bottom?" he shouted, but Brandilancia was wisely silent. "If not," cried the Captain, "and you are hiding yonder within hearing, let me tell you that you will die like a rat in a sewer unless you give yourself up at the entrance to that tunnel, where you will find me waiting for you."

Drenched to the skin Brandilancia's teeth chattered with the physical cold, and fear numbed his heart. "What if Radicofani spoke the truth?"

But to carry out his threat the Captain must retrace his steps and ride to the spot where the aqueduct entered the hill. How far he had proceeded Brandilancia could not guess, possibly half or three-fourths of the way. If so there was hope of reaching the opening before Radicofani, and he hurried on with what speed he could consistent with groping his way with hands and feet in the total darkness. The exertion stirred his blood but the tunnel seemed to have no end. His hands were worn and bleeding with clinging to the rough wall, and a great la.s.situde was stealing over him when he caught a faint glimmer of light like that of a star, not the lurid glow of a candle or torch but the blessed white light of day. It was the longed-for opening, though still far away. He thought that he had out-distanced Radicofani and stumbled on, exultation giving him new strength when a sudden eclipse of this star of hope made him crouch motionless, grovelling close to the earth. A man's head and shoulders were silhouetted blackly against the brightness. The man peered cautiously into the tunnel, and listened; but neither hearing nor seeing anything, presently withdrew.

Was it Radicofani? Were workmen preparing to wall up the exit? Ought he to make a sudden rush for life and liberty?

Every instinct prompted him to this resolution, and he crawled cautiously forward to within a few feet of the opening. Again the man appeared, with a sudden bound Brandilancia was upon him and both rolled in a life-and-death struggle upon the ground.

So dazed was he by the glare of the full light of day, so nearly crazed with desperation that he did not recognise the voice that implored him to cease his blows, or realise that his supposed antagonist was the friendly Malespini, who, on the instant that Radicofani had discovered and descended the secret staircase, had slipped his guards and ridden to Brandilancia's succour on the swiftest horse obtainable in Rome.

Hastily exchanging his own mire-besmirched garments for the secretary's un.o.btrusive suit, Brandilancia, with many apologies for his onslaught, listened to Malespini's explanations of a circuitous route by which he could avoid Radicofani, ride to Orte, and, leaving the horse at the inn stables, take the diligence on the following day for Venice. Malespini's suggestions, acceptable in themselves, were gratifyingly supplemented by a tender letter from Marie de' Medici and a purse well filled with gold.

"Of the money I have fortunately no need," Brandilancia replied, "but the care of your mistress for my safety and your own pains in my behalf command my eternal grat.i.tude. You shall both hear from me from Venice, and so farewell."

Malespini's scheme seemed at first likely to be crowned with success, and having secured his seat in the Venetian post, Brandilancia naturally imagined his troubles at an end; but shortly after leaving Orte, where the road turns to the eastward for its climb over the Apennines, the lumbering vehicle came to a sudden halt. Shouts and oaths without, the shrieks of a woman at his side, and the opening of the door by a masked man, formidably armed, sufficiently explained the situation.

The pa.s.sengers on dismounting were relieved of their purses by the bandits, but, with the exception of Brandilancia, were allowed to proceed upon their journey. No explanation was offered for this discrimination, but there was something familiar in the figure of the leader, who, after pointing out Brandilancia, had ridden rapidly on in advance of his men, and the captive wondered at the excellent accoutrements of the band and the good quality of the horse which he was compelled to mount.

They struck at once into a wild mountain gorge, avoiding villages and farms, and when at noon the brigands halted for refreshments in a little wood, and removed their masks, Brandilancia recognised no familiar faces.

Remounting, the brigands pursued their way up a steep bridle path, their destination a strong castle, perched high on a spur of the mountain. The prisoner's heart sank as he noted its isolation and strength, for here a captive might remain for years and finally die undiscovered.

But Brandilancia had not reckoned on the cupidity of his host. His capture had been planned not by hatred, but in the hope of ransom, as was explained to him by the brigand chief, into whose presence he was led upon his arrival at the stronghold.

The man still wore his mask, but at the first word which he uttered Brandilancia to his astonishment recognised the condottiere Radicofani.

Accosted by name, the Captain removed his mask, and coolly confronted his prisoner.

"It is as well," he said, "that you should understand the situation.

Your flight and apparent escape remove my accountability to the Grand Duke for your person. I should not have troubled myself further about you, were it not that upon my empty-handed return to the villa the Signorina Marie de' Medici very indiscreetly taunted me with having allowed a far more important personage than the Earl of Ess.e.x to slip unrecognised through my fingers. Just who you are she did not see fit to divulge; but I gathered that you are of sufficient consequence for your friends to be willing to pay handsomely for your release. You may therefore write to them, and I will see that your letters reach their destination on condition that you advise the fulfilment of my demands."

"The Signorina has unwittingly misled you," Brandilancia replied. "The Grand Duke was right in his belief that the Earl of Ess.e.x had sailed for England, but though I am his accredited representative, as I hope to prove to your master if you will convey me to him, I am a man of no wealth and one whom the world will not miss."

"Tus.h.!.+ my fine fellow; it is useless to attempt to deceive me, and it is against your own interest; for you can make better terms with me than with the Grand Duke, who is by far a greater brigand than your present host."

Thus admonished Brandilancia resigned himself to the inevitable, and wrote two letters; the first to the Earl of Ess.e.x, expressing his regret that he had not been able to personally present to Ferdinando de'

Medici the papers entrusted to him instead of sending them by the hand of Radicofani. While reporting his captive condition, he begged his friend to be at no expense or trouble for his redemption, beyond an explanation to the Grand Duke that he had undertaken the mission upon proper authority and should be allowed to return.

Having dashed off this missive at fever heat Brandilancia paused, pen in hand, moodily regarding the blank sheet before him until gruffly reminded by Radicofani that he must either write or give over the attempt.

He started at the command, for in imagination he had been far away in a thatch-roofed cottage behind hawthorne hedges, where Anne, faithful Anne, had so often welcomed her wild lover. Their wills had clashed after their marriage. She had objected unreasonably when his career led him to London, had been sceptical as to his success, and even, so it seemed to him, as to his genius. There had been angry reproaches and bitter recriminations, but at heart he had never doubted her affection and had always intended to convince her of his own when he could also prove that in following the call of his talent he had acted for her best interest. His stay at the Villa Medici and its very hostess seemed to him now a hallucination whose pa.s.sing left no trace upon his sober senses, but could Anne understand this? If she believed him erring was the high-spirited wife capable of forgiveness? He saw himself condemned and shame-stricken before the tribunal of her unswerving rect.i.tude but none the less he ventured his plea in lines that had been forming themselves, as always when he was under the stress of emotion, with the clarity and perfection of a crystal born from the drip and ooze of some dark cavern.

It is of all his sonnets the one which rings most true, ending with its appeal for reconciliation after long estrangement.

"Your heart My home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again!"

He was not certain that he would be permitted to rejoin her, but he would not sadden Anne by his foreboding. His heart had returned to its allegiance; this was the important thing, and this she should know.

"I leave you now," said Radicofani as Brandilancia handed him the letters, "for I must make speed to wait upon the Grand Duke at Florence.

Regard yourself as my guest rather than as a prisoner. I leave only a few old servants charged to make you as comfortable as the ruinous condition of this old castle of my ancestors will permit. The length of your stay is conditioned only upon the prompt.i.tude of your friends in complying with my conditions. I see that your letters are written in English. No matter, I have no desire to pry into your private affairs and shall send them by the earliest opportunity."

Brandilancia bowed ceremoniously, but sank exhausted into his chair. He was s.h.i.+vering in a violent chill, the first stages of Roman fever, brought on by his experiences in the subterranean aqueduct. For weeks he tossed upon his pallet alternately freezing and burning, much of the time delirious--now wandering with Anne through English meadows with "daisies pied" and "babbling of green fields"--and anon scorching the wings of his soul in the flame of Italian beauty and pa.s.sion.

With the pa.s.sing of the fever he eagerly demanded an interview with Radicofani but was informed that the Captain was still at Florence. He had written that no response of any kind had been received from either of the letters sent to England, though ample time had elapsed for their arrival. Brandilancia was not, however, to be set at liberty on this account, and days lengthened to weeks and weeks to months and he was still a prisoner.

The lofty situation of the castle far above the malaria of the valleys, swept by every wind of heaven, had completed his cure, and as he paced the sightly platform he found himself hungering for liberty and action.

In this reflux of returning health and energy, on one exhilarating morning in early spring, when all nature seemed calling to him to escape, Brandilancia hailed with grat.i.tude the arrival of the secretary Malespini bringing the almost despaired of tidings that his prison doors were open and he was at last free to depart.

"The Grand Duke has commanded this," Brandilancia asked, "through the intervention of my faithful friend the Earl of Ess.e.x?"

"Not so," Malespini responded drily. "You may thank friends nearer at hand, for the Grand Duke knows as little of your existence as your English friends apparently care for it."

"Then it is the Signorina who has effected my deliverance?"