The Shame of Motley Part 31

He hesitated a second, then he lowered his hand, his face telling me clearly how deeply he grudged me the respite which, yet, he dared not do other than accord me.

"Where shall I find me a priest?" he grumbled. "Think you the Citadel of Cesena is a monastery? I will wait while you make an act of contrition for your sins. It is all the shrift I can afford you. And get it done, for it is time I was abed. You shall have five minutes in which to clear your soul."

By this it seemed to me--as it may well seem to you--that matters were but little mended, and instead of employing the respite he accorded me in the pious collecting of thoughts which he enjoined, I sat up--very sore from my descent of the stairs--and employed those precious moments in putting forward arguments to turn him from, his murderous purpose.

"I have lived too unG.o.dly a life," I protested, "to be able to squeeze into Paradise through so narrow a tate. As you would hope for your own ultimate salvation, Excellency, I do beseech you not to imperil mine."

This disposed him, at least, to listen to me, and proceeded to a.s.sure him of the harmless nature of my visit to the hall in quest of wine to quench my thirst. I was running the grave risk of dying with lies on my lips, but I was too desperate to give the matter thought just then. His mood seemed to relent; the delay, perhaps, had calmed his first access of pa.s.sion, and he was grown more reasonable. But when Ramiro cooled he was, perhaps, more malignant than ever, for it meant a return to natural condition, and Ramiro's natural condition was one of cruelty unsurpa.s.sed.

"It may be as you say," he answered me at last, sheathing his dagger, "and at least you have my word that I will not slay you without first a.s.suring myself that you have lied. For to-night you shall remain in durance. To-morrow we will apply the question to you."

The hope that had been reviving in my breast fell dead once more, and I turned cold at that threat. And yet, between now and to-morrow, much might betide, and I had cause for thankfulness, perhaps, for this respite. Thus I sought to cheer myself. But I fear I failed. To-morrow he would torture me, not so much to ascertain whether I had spoken truly, but because to his diseased mind it afforded diversion to witness a man's anguish. No doubt it was that had urged him now to spare my life and accord me this merciless piece of mercy.

In a loud voice he called the sentry who was pacing below; and in a moment the man appeared in answer to that summons.

"You will take this knave to the chamber set apart for him up there, and you will leave him secure under lock and bar, bringing me the key of his door."

The fellow informed himself which was the chamber, then turning to me he curtly bade me go with him. Thus was I haled back to my room, with the promise of horrors on the morrow, but with the night before me in which to scheme and pray for some miracle that might yet save me. But the days of miracles were long past. I lay on my bed and deplored with many a sigh that bitter fact. And if aught had been wanting to increase the weight of fear and anguish on my already over-burdened mind, and to aid in what almost seemed an infernal plot to utterly distract me, I had it in fresh, wild conjectures touching Madonna Paola. Where indeed could she be that Ramiro's men had failed to find her for all that they had scoured that part of the country in which I had left her to wait for my return? What if, by now, worse had befallen her than the capture with which Ramiro's lieutenant was charged?

With such doubts as these to haunt me, fretted as I was by my utter inability to take a step in her service, I lay. There for an hour or so in such agony of mind as is begotten only of suspense. In my girdle still reposed the treasonable letter from Vitelli to Ramiro, a mighty weapon with which to accomplish the butcher's overthrow. But how was I to wield it imprisoned here?

I wondered why Mariani had not returned, only to remember that the soldier who had locked me in had carried the key of my prison-chamber to Ramiro.

Suddenly the stillness was disturbed by a faint tap at my door. My instincts and my reason told me it must be Mariani at last. In an instant I had leapt from the bed and whispered through the keyhole:

"Who is there?"

"It is I--Mariani--the seneschal," came the old man's voice, very softly, but nevertheless distinctly. "They have taken the key."

I groaned, then in a gust of pa.s.sion I fell to cursing Ramiro for that precaution.

"You have the letter?" came Mariani's voice again.

"Aye, I have it still," I answered.

"Have you seen what it contains?"

"A plot to a.s.sa.s.sinate the Duke--no less. Enough to get this b.l.o.o.d.y Ramiro broken on the wheel."

I was answered by a sound that was as a gasp of malicious joy. Then the old man's voice added:

"Can you pa.s.s it under the door? There is a sufficient gap."

I felt, and found that he was right; I could pa.s.s the half of my hand underneath. I took the letter and thrust it through. His hands fastened on it instantly, almost s.n.a.t.c.hing it from my fingers before they were ready to release it.

"Have courage," he bade me. "Listen. I shall endeavour to leave Cesena in the morning, and I shall ride straight for Faenza. If I find the Duke there when I arrive, he should be here within some twelve or fourteen hours of my departure. Fence with Ramiro, temporise if you can till then, and all will be well with you."

"I will do what I can," I answered him. "But if he slays me in the meantime, at least I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that he will not be long in following me."

"May G.o.d s.h.i.+eld you," he said fervently.

"May G.o.d speed you," I answered him, with a still greater fervour.

That night, as you may well conceive, I slept but little, and that little ill. The morning, instead of relieving the fears that in the darkness had been with me, seemed to increase them. For now was the time for Mariani to act, and I was fearful as to how he might succeed. I was full of doubts lest some obstacle should have arisen to prevent his departure from Cesena, and I spent my morning in wearisome speculation.

I took an almost childish satisfaction in the thought that since, being a prisoner, I could no longer count myself the Fool of the Court of Cesena, I was free to strip the motley and a.s.sume the more sober garments in which I had been taken, and which--as you may recall--had been placed in my chamber on the previous evening. It was the very plainest raiment. For doublet I wore a buff brigandine, quilted and dagger-proof, and caught at the waist by a girdle of hammered steel; my wine-coloured hose was stout and serviceable, as were my long boots of untanned leather. Yet prouder was I of this sober apparel than ever king of his ermine.

It may have been an hour or so past noon when, at last, my solitude was invaded by a soldier who came to order me into the presence of the Governor. I had been sitting at the window, leaning against the bars and looking out at the desolate white landscape, for there had been a heavy fall of snow in the night, which reminded me--as snow ever did--of my first meeting with Madonna Paola.

I rose upon the instant, and my fears rose with me. But I kept a bold front as I went down into the hall, where Ramiro and the blackguards of his Court were sitting, with three or four men-at-arms at attention by the door. Close to the pulleys appertaining to the torture of the cord stood two leather-clad ruffians--Ramiro's executioners.

At the head of the board, which was still strewn with fragments of food-for they had but dined--sat Ramiro del' Orca. With him were half a dozen of his officers, whose villainous appearance p.r.o.nounced them worthy of their brutal leader. The air was heavy with the pungent odour of viands. I looked round for Mariani, and I took some comfort from the fact that he was absent. Might heaven please that he was even then on his way to Faenza.

Ramiro watched my advance with a smile in which mockery was blent with satisfaction, for all that of the resumption of my proper raiment he seemed to take no heed. No doubt he had dined well, and he was now disposing himself to be amused.

"Messer Bocadaro," said he, when I had come to a standstill, "there was last night a matter that was not cleared up between us and concerning which I expressed an intention of questioning you to-day. I should proceed to do so at once, were it not that there is yet another matter on which I am, if possible, still more desirous you should tell us all you know. Once already have you evaded my questions with answers which at the time I half believed. Even now I do not say that I utterly disbelieve them, but I wish to a.s.sure myself that you told the truth; for if you lied, why then we may still be a.s.sisted by such information the cord shall squeeze from you. I am referring to the mysterious disappearance of Madonna Paola di Santafior--a disappearance of which you have a.s.sured me that you knew nothing, being even in ignorance of the fact that the lady was not really dead. I had confidently expected that the party searching for Madonna Paola would have succeeded ere this in finding her. But this morning my hopes suffered disappointment. My men have returned empty-handed once more."

"For which mercy may Heaven be praised!" I burst out.

He scowled at me; then he laughed evilly.

"My men have returned--all save three. Captain Lucagnolo with two of his followers, has undertaken to go beyond the area I appointed for the search, and to proceed to the village of Cattolica. While he is pursuing his inquiries there, I have resolved to pursue my own here. I now call upon you, Boccadoro, to tell us what you know of Madonna Paola's whereabouts."

"I know nothing," I answered stoutly. "I am prepared to take oath that I know nothing of her whereabouts."

"Tell me, then, at least," said he, "where you bestowed her."

I shook my head, pressing my lips tight.

"Do you think that I would tell you if I had the knowledge?" was the scornful question with which I answered him. "You may pursue your inquiries as you will and where you will, but I pray G.o.d they may all prove as futile as must those that you would pursue here and upon my own person."

This was how I fenced with him, this was the manner in which I followed Mariani's sound advice that I should temporise! Oh! I know that my words were the words of a fool, yet no fear that Ramiro would inspire me could have restrained them.

There was a murmur at the table, and his fellows turned their eyes on Ramiro to see how he would receive this bearding. He smiled quietly, and raising his hand he made a sign to the executioners.

Rude hands seized me from behind, and the doublet was torn from my back by fingers that never paused to untruss my points.

They turned me about, and hurried me along until I stood under the pulleys of the torture, and one of the men held me securely whilst the other pa.s.sed the cords about my wrists. Then both the executioners stepped back, to be ready to hoist me at the Governor's signal.

He delayed it, much as an epicure delays the consumption of a delectable morsel, heightening by suspense the keen desire of his palate. He watched me closely, and had my lips quivered or my eyelids fluttered, he would have hailed with joy such signs of weakness. But I take pride in truthfully writing that I stood bold and impa.s.sively before him, and if I was pale I thank Heaven that pallor was the habit of my countenance, so that from that he could gather no satisfaction. And standing there, I gave him back look for look, and waited.

"For the last time, Boccadoro," he said slowly, attempting by words to shake a demeanour that was proof against the impending facts of the cord, "I ask you to remember what must be the consequences of this stubbornness. If not at the first hoist, why then at the second or the third, the torture will compel you to disclose what you may know. Would you not be better advised to speak at once, while your limbs are soundly planted in their sockets, rather than let yourself be maimed, perhaps for life, ere you will do so?"

There was a stir of hoofs without. They thundered on the planks of the drawbridge and clattered on the stones of the courtyard. The thought of Cesare Borgia rose to my mind. But never did drowning man clutch at a more illusory straw. Cold reason quenched my hope at once. If the greatest imaginable success attended Mariani's journey, the Duke could not reach Cesena before midnight, and to that it wanted some ten hours at least. Moreover, the company that came was small to judge by the sound--a half-dozen horses at the most.

But Ramiro's attention had been diverted from me by the noise.

Half-turning in his chair, he called to one of the men-at-arms to ascertain who came. Before the fellow could do his bidding, the door was thrust open and Lucagnolo appeared on the threshold, jaded and worn with hard riding.