VALENTINOIS: No more! (He turns to go.)
PANTHASILEA (suddenly fierce): Take care! My men still wait. You are walking to your death — for death it will be at a word from me.
VALENTINOIS: Why, what a thing do you conceive me, that I am to be blown this way and that by every gusty emotion you display. You think to stir me to love, to pity, to contempt, and now to fear — and all at your good pleasure
PANTHASILEA (in mounting anger): Have you only scorn and mockery for my love and pity?
VALENTINOIS: Pity? And shall Cesare Borgia owe his life to your compassion?
PANTHASILEA: You may owe death to your own arrogance, if I but speak the word.
VALENTINOIS: Speak it, then. I urge you. Give the signal.
PANTHASILEA (furiously): You will have it so! Why, then...(Shouting, and beating her hands together.) Ho, there! To me! Santafiora!
[As she calls, VALENTINOIS, with a laugh, sweeps aside the curtain.
VALENTINOIS: Let me admit them for you.
[He pushes open the windows, then recoils a little. On the terrace are dimly visible four men in steel caps. PANTHASILEA advances a step, crying out shrilly.
PANTHASILEA: No! No! Wait! Santafiora! No violence — in God’s name!...Ah!
[She ends on a scream, as the men come forward into the light where she can see them.
[Their leader is not Santafiora, but RAMIREZ, and on the breasts of the other three is displayed the bull escutcheon that is the livery of the House of Borgia.
[RAMIREZ bows and speaks to VALENTINOIS.
RAMIREZ: My lord, your orders are fulfilled. We have seized all those who were lurking in the garden. There were six of them. They are fast bound, awaiting your pleasure.
VALENTINOIS: You have done well, RamireZ. You have leave to go.
[RAMIREZ retires, but remains in view at the back of the terrace with his men.
[VALENTINOIS looks at PANTHASILEA, he smiles a little, between mockery and wistfulness. Leaning against the settle for support, she stares back at him wide-eyed. She speaks in a voice of horrified amazement.
PANTHASILEA: You knew! You knew!
VALENTINOIS: From the hour I met you, Panthasilea degli Speranzoni.
PANTHASILEA: That, too!
VALENTINOIS: That, too.
PANTHASILEA (in torturing bewilderment, weakly): Then...then...Why...?
VALENTINOIS: I left you free so that you might fool the defenders of Solignola with your daily letters, until we completed the mine that is to be fired at dawn.
PANTHASILEA: And for that...for that you...
VALENTINOIS: For that and something more. (Suddenly exultant.) The lust of Conquest! I accepted this duel against you and your woman’s arts; and your confession when it came should be the admission that I was conqueror in your heart and soul as I am conqueror elsewhere, as I shall sit a conqueror to-morrow in Solignola.
[He sweeps her a bow, and goes up.
PANTHASILEA (in a strangled voice): Solignola Oh, God! What is left for me now?
VALENTINOIS (pausing on the threshold of the window): For you? Lady, I leave you the memories of this hour.
[With a long-drawn, shuddering sob, she sinks down on the settle, and crouches there under the load of her shameful understanding.
[From the threshold, VALENTINOIS regards her for a moment, his face calm and expressionless. Then he passes out.
CURTAIN
ACT IV
A Hall in the Castle of Solignola. (As Act I.)
It is evening of the following day. In the sky, seen beyond the loggia, an orange glow of sunset pales gradually to lemon as the scene proceeds. This fades out thereafter during the act to palest turquoise and then begins to deepen, first to purple, then to sapphire blue, with the onset of night.
The scene is that of the first act. But the upper part of the stage is now furnished by a large dais upon which a banqueting table is set. At the middle place on the upper side of this there is a large, gilded armchair, flanked by two stools on either side; in addition an armchair is set at each end of the table. A lantern, on a tall pedestal, stands at each upper end of the dais, and there are two leather cushions on the dais in front of the table.
At rise of curtain MICHELETTO DA CORELLA is standing in the loggia, attended by a PAGE. CORELLA is in armour, stained and dusty. He has put of his helmet, and his head is cased in a velvet skull-cap. Two LACKEYS are in the act of completing the furnishings of the banqueting-table, which consists of a platter, goblet and knife and spoon at each place, all gilded and decorated; of dishes of fruit, and tall, decorative wine jugs. A large, beautifully wrought cup of gold is in the middle place, where the great chair is set.
The main doors are open. On the parapet outside Two SWISS, under the direction of FERRANTE, are hauling down the standard of the Speranzoni from the castle flag-staff. They tear it from the halyard and replace it by the banner of Cesare Borgia, which they proceed to hoist.
A carillon of joy-bells — begun before the rise of the curtain crashes out in fullest volume as the flag soars aloft. With this comes now a burst of cheering from the courtyard below. Gradually thereafter the bells diminish, and, with a half-dozen single strokes, cease altogether.
The Two LACKEYS, having completed the furnishing of the table, now withdraw by the small door down right.
CORELLA: Thank heaven that’s over! If there’s a din I hate, boy, it’s the ding-dong of church bells.
PACE: But when they are joy-bells — and rung for victory.
CORELLA: Bells are bells, whatever they may be rung for — distracting as a scolding woman’s tongue. Here, boy, help me off with my harness.
[RAMIREZ enters at back. He, too, is in armour. CORELLA: Ah, Ramirez! Well come. RAMIREZ: Well found, Micheletto!
[While the talk continues now, the PACE is assisting CORELLA to disarm — back and breast, cuissarts and brassards only, which compose the armour.
RAMIREZ: So the job is really finished! And we labourers can lay aside our tools. Faith! It proved none so difficult in the end. These men of Solignola didn’t show much spirit.
CORELLA: Spirit? We blew the spirit out of them when we fired the mine this morning. It took them too completely by surprise.
RAMIREZ: Still, they might have made a better show at the breach. Why, they were just driven in like sheep in panic. I had expected more of them.
CORELLA: The fact is, they had expected less of us. Be thankful.
RAMIREZ: I am. The job is done. We’re here, and all is quiet. Where is the duke?
CORELLA: His highness is closeted with Count Guido (He points L.), settling the details of the terms, and not to be disturbed.
RAMIREZ: But I’ve come for orders.
CORELLA: I have them for you. You are to remain in Solignola with your troop, to furnish a bodyguard for his highness, and to escort him hence to-morrow. But you are to order Naldi and Scipione to withdraw all their men from the town and to encamp them in the valley.
RAMIREZ: Withdraw them from the town?
CORELLA: His highness will take no risk of pillage or any sort of violence. See to it, Ramirez. Let your officers remind them that if any man steals so much as a straw his neck will pay for it.
RAMIREZ: The duke is very tender of these his latest subjects.
CORELLA: That is his usual way.
[The SENESCHAL comes in at back.
CORELLA What is it?
SENESCHAL: The Orators of the Powers are here, to felicitate his highness upon his victory.
CORELLA: Bid them in.
[The SENESCHAL bows and withdraws.
CORELLA: Be off, Ramirez. Draw up your troop in the square before the Duomo. His highness will be there presently.
RAMIREZ: I go.
[He bows and turns to depart. As he is going, the ambassadors enter: MACCHIAVELLI, CAPELLO, SINIBALDI (who is livid with chagrin), MARIANO and GASPARO.
CORELLA: Sirs, to command. His highness bade me announce you the moment you arrived. He will, I know,
be honoured by your congratulations. If you will give me leave, I will let him know at once.
[CORELLA goes out L., followed by the PAGE bearing his arms.
CAPELLO (falsely genial): There is good cause for our congratulations. These people of Solignola take their defeat in excellent part.
SINIBALDI (sourly): As the mountains take rain. Because they cannot help themselves.
MACCHIAVELLI: A happy image, Lord Prince.
SINIBALDI (mistrustful): Eh?
MACCHIAVELLI: Is not the rain beneficent to the mountains? Does it not bring fertility to their slopes?
SINIBALDI: Maybe. But that is not what I had in mind.
CAPELLO (hastening to explain): It is the passive acquiescence in their subjection that amazes the prince.
MACCHIAVELLI: But why should it? The folk of Solignola know that their conquest by the duke is for their ultimate good; they know his way, and that they need apprehend no danger to life or property.
SINIBALDI: What of the life and property of Count Guido, Messer Niccolo? Will you answer for those?
MACCHIAVELLI: As to the property, it was never really his own. Count Guido was but a Vicar of the Holy See, a feudatory of Rome.
SINIBALDI: You take that view, do you?
MACCHIAVELLI: Does not your lordship?
CAPELLO (interrupting hurriedly): But of course, of course!
SINIBALDI: And his life then? What of that?
MACCHIAVELLI: A delicate matter. When a prince conquers such a State as this, he will, if he is a wise prince, do one of two things: either he will constrain the members of the vanquished family to become his friends, or else...
SINIBALDI Or else?
MACCHIAVELLI: Or else put it beyond their power to be his enemies.
SINIBALDI: That, no doubt, is the policy his highness will prefer.
MACCHIAVELLI: Dare you blame him?
SINIBALDI: Sir, I am not so steeped in statecraft that I can find no pity for Count Guido.
MACCHIAVELLI: Pity! That is an emotion. It has no place in policy.
SINIBALDI: It certainly has none in Valentino’s.
MACCHIAVELLI: That is why he is a model prince.
[CORELLA re-enters, and announces.
CORELLA Sirs, his highness!
[VALENTINOIS and GUIDO come in by the door down R., following CORELLA. VALENTINOIS is booted to the thighs and wears a short hacketon, below which gleams the escalloped edge of a coat of mail. Over this he wears the gonfalonier’s mantle as in Act II. Scene I. He is covered by a steel cap, and wears gloves, one of which he is drawing on as he enters. COUNT GUIDO, too, is in leather, and a steel gorget still remains upon him of his armour. His head is bandaged, and he carries his left arm in a sling. He is pale and dejected.
[The ORATORS all bow as VALENTINOIS advances.
VALENTINOIS: Sirs, it honours me that you should seek me here so soon. Twice gives who quickly gives.
CAPELLO: Knowing that at dawn you set out for Rome, this was our only opportunity to present our felicitations.
VALENTINOIS: I make them very welcome, and you, sirs. But my time is short. I am awaited at the Cathedral by the Ancients of the City who are to swear fealty upon my hands. If you will give me your support and company at the ceremony I shall be honoured.
ORATORS (They all bow, mumbling platitudes): Highness, the honour will be ours. It is we shall be honoured! We Could not miss the occasion.
VALENTINOIS: On our return perhaps I may have your company at supper — simple and informal, because I must retire early against to-morrow’s journey. Count Guido, here, will be our host.
[There is a movement of surprise.
VALENTINOIS: For I rejoice to tell you that Count Guido is to continue here in Solignola as Rome’s Vicar and my Vicegerent, subject to certain conditions which have been happily agreed. Count Guido is not required to take the oath in public. He shall be privately sworn before I depart. And now, sirs, if it be your pleasure, we will proceed to the Cathedral.
[They fall back. CORELLA goes ahead to the door at back. Beyond it the SWISS come to attention. VALENTINOIS bows to COUNT GUIDO, and goes up and out, the others following. As he appears at the head of the stairs there is a flourish of trumpets and a burst of cheering from the courtyard below. This is followed by martial music as he descends out of view, which continues some little time, but dwindling in the distance until it fades away entirely.
[The doors are closed by the SWISS, and COUNT GUIDO is left alone. He makes a mute gesture of despair, then crosses with dragging feet towards the chair by the hearth, into which he lets himself fall. He pulls a letter from his pocket, straining his eyes to read it (yet again, having read it previously). As he reads he groans.
[The door at back is softly opened. The SWISS, having followed VALENTINOIS, are no longer on guard there.
[SINIBALDI enters furtively.
[Hearing his step, COUNT GUIDO crushes the letter in his hand, and turns in alarm.
GUIDO: Sinibaldi!
SINIBALDI (in the act of closing the door): I gave them the slip in the courtyard. Let them go to their fawning on this bastard. You had my message?
GUIDO: Your message? Yes. I have it here. God’s curse on you!
SINIBALDI (aghast): On me! Why...
GUIDO: Was it not you that set her on to this? Was it not you who sent her to this ruin that has dragged our own at its heels.
SINIBALDI: My friend, I heed your poor bruised heart, rather than your words. Was It my fault that your daughter failed us in this fashion? Could I foresee that this devil would beguile her so? And to say I sent her! It was she, herself, afire with vengeance, who insisted. Your grief makes you unjust, Lord Count.
GUIDO: I am accursed, I think! Why — as there is God of Pity — did not the pike that broke my arm this morning tear out my heart instead? Why did not the sword that shore my brow bite deep into this old brain? Was I spared that I may go mad? For what was I spared?
SINIBALDI: My friend! My poor friend!
GUIDO: Poor! that is the word. A thing of pity. Count Guido degli Speranzoni, once a proud eagle on these craggy heights; now a poor battered fowl, so tame and broken, that I am to feed from the hand of this ravisher of my power and of my honour!
SINIBALDI: Sh! Have a care!
GUIDO (on a musing, bitter tone, tapping the letter): Three hours you say he stayed alone with her last night, whilst his men made fast all those she had posted in the garden. Three hours!
SINIBALDI: And it’s my belief that but for her weakness she could have taken him the night before. I have it from herself that he was there alone — alone and in secret.
GUIDO: Hell! It seems impossible. I’d not believe it but for her lying letters, her failure and her absence now. Her lover Pietro but three months dead! Her soul, a flame of vengeance! And then...this. That is woman. Woman! Again I ask you, why have I been spared?
SINIBALDI: For vengeance, surely. GUIDO: Eh? Are you mad?
SINIBALDI: This bolt has missed. But I’ve another in my armoury. We’ll end where we should have begun. I was a fool ever to have yielded to this crazy plan of taking him alive.
GUIDO: Do you reproach me with that?
SINIBALDI: If I had insisted on the direct and simple way, we should have had him stiff by now. There was ample opportunity in Assisi, and I must have seiZed it, but that I trusted to your crack-brained scheme.
GUIDO: God’s light, man! Do you think I have no memory? When you came here seeking catspaws to do the work of Venice, you gave a dozen reasons why the hand of the Serene Republic should not be seen. And now we have your big talk of what you would have done but that we thwarted you!
SINIBALDI: In what I would have done the hand of Venice would never have appeared. It will not now in what is yet to do.
GUIDO: Be plain, man.
SINIBALDI: You’ll take a little risk to make him cold, to avenge your ruin and your daughter’s shame?
GUIDO: A little risk? There’s no risk too big to daunt me.
I am to swear fealty to him upon the Scriptures and upon his hands, so that I may purchase a few more years of this dishonoured life. If I can avert that...
SINIBALDI: Listen!
[He looks cautiously round, and draws a little silver phial from his pocket.
SINIBALDI: He delivers himself into our hands. This supper to which we are bidden...Look! One single drop of this, rubbed round the cup from which he is to drink...One drop...So little that it will not show. Let him drink but half the cupful, and in less time than it will take to tell a dozen paternosters he will be journeying over Styx.
Collected Works of Rafael Sabatini Page 581