The Chronicles of Count Antonio

by Anthony Hope

  THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO

  by

  ANTHONY HOPE

  Author of The Prisoner of Zenda, etc.

  With Photogravure Frontispiece by S. W. Van Schaick

  New YorkD. Appleton and Company1895

  Copyright, 1895,By Anthony Hope.

  Copyright, 1895,By D. Appleton and Company.

  _TO THE HONOURABLE SIR HENRY HAWKINS._

  _MY DEAR SIR HENRY_:

  _It gives me very great pleasure to be allowed to dedicate this book to you. I hope you will accept it as a token of thanks for much kindness, of your former Marshal's pleasant memory of his service, and of sincere respect for a clear-sighted, firm, and compassionate Judge._

  _Your affectionate cousin,_

  _A. H. H._

  _London, August, 1895._

  _Behold! She is free._ (Chapter V.)]

  CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I.--HOW COUNT ANTONIO TOOK TO THE HILLS 1

  II.--COUNT ANTONIO AND THE TRAITOR PRINCE 39

  III.--COUNT ANTONIO AND THE PRINCE OF MANTIVOGLIA 71

  IV.--COUNT ANTONIO AND THE WIZARD'S DRUG 116

  V.--COUNT ANTONIO AND THE SACRED BONES 158

  VI.--COUNT ANTONIO AND THE HERMIT OF THE VAULT 202

  VII.--COUNT ANTONIO AND THE LADY OF RILANO 245

  VIII.--THE MANNER OF COUNT ANTONIO'S RETURN 290

  THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO.

  CHAPTER I.

  HOW COUNT ANTONIO TOOK TO THE HILLS.

  Countless are the stories told of the sayings that Count Antonio spokeand of the deeds that he did when he dwelt an outlaw in the hills. Fortales and legends gather round his name thick as the berries hang on abush, and with the passage of every succeeding year it grows harder todiscern where truth lies and where the love of wonder, working togetherwith the sway of a great man's memory, has wrought the embroidery of itsfancy on the plain robe of fact. Yet, amid all that is of uncertainknowledge and so must rest, this much at least should be known andremembered for the honour of a noble family, how it fell out that CountAntonio, a man of high lineage, forsook the service of his Prince,disdained the obligation of his rank, set law at naught, and did whatseemed indeed in his own eyes to be good but was held by many to benothing other than the work of a rebel and a brigand. Yet, although itis by these names that men often speak of him, they love his memory; andI also, Ambrose the Franciscan, having gathered diligently all that Icould come by in the archives of the city or from the lips of aged folk,have learned to love it in some sort. Thus I am minded to write, beforethe time that I must carry what I know with me to the grave, the fulland whole truth concerning Antonio's flight from the city and the Court,seeking in my heart, as I write, excuse for him, and finding in therecord, if little else, yet a tale that lovers must read in pride andsorrow, and, if this be not too high a hope, that princes may study forprofit and for warning.

  Now it was in the tenth year of the reign of Duke Valentine over thecity of Firmola, its territories and dependent towns, that Count Antonioof Monte Velluto--having with him a youthful cousin of his, whom heloved greatly, and whom, by reason of his small stature and of a boyishgaiety he had, men called Tommasino--came from his own house on the hillthat fronts the great gate of the city, to the palace of the Duke, withintent to ask His Highness's sanction for his marriage with the LadyLucia. This lady, being then seventeen years of age, loved Antonio, andhe her, and troth had been privily plighted between them for manymonths; and such was the strength and power of the love they bore theone to the other, that even to this day the old mock at young lovers whoshow themselves overfond, crying, "'Tis Lucia and Antonio!"

  But since the Lady Lucia was an orphan, Antonio came now to the Duke,who enjoyed ward-ship over her, and setting out his passion and how thathis estate was sufficient and his family such as the Duke knew, prayedleave of His Highness to wed her. But the Duke, a crafty and subtleprince, knowing Antonio's temper and the favour in which he was held bythe people, counted not to augment his state and revenues by the gift ofa bride so richly dowered, but chose rather to give her to a favouriteof his, a man in whose devotion he could surely trust and whosedisposition was to serve his master in all things fair and foul, open orsecret. Such an one the Duke found in the Lord Robert de Beauregard, agentleman of Provence, who had quitted his own country, having beendrawn into some tumult there, and, having taken service with the Duke,had risen to a great place in his esteem and confidence. Therefore, whenAntonio preferred his request, the Duke, with many a courteous regretfulphrase, made him aware that the lady stood promised to Robert by theirrevocable sanctity of his princely pledge.

  "So forget, I pray you, my good cousin Antonio," said he, "forget, asyoung men lightly can, this desire of yours, and it shall be my chargeto find you a bride full as fair as the Lady Lucia."

  But Antonio's face went red from brow to chin, as he answered: "Mygracious lord, I love the lady, and she me, and neither can wed another.As for my Lord Robert, your Highness knows well that she loves him not."

  "A girl's love!" smiled the Duke. "A girl's love! It rains and shines,and shines and rains, Antonio."

  "It has shone on me since she knew a man when she looked on him," saidAntonio.

  And Tommasino, who stood by, recking as little of the Duke as of theDuke's deerhound which he was patting the while, broke in, sayingcarelessly, "And this Robert, my lord, is not the man for a pretty girlto love. He is a sour fellow."

  "I thank you for your counsel, my lord Tommasino," smiled the Duke. "YetI love him." Whereat Tommasino lifted his brows and patted the houndagain. "It is enough," added the Duke. "I have promised, Antonio. It isenough."

  "Yes, it is enough," said Antonio; and he and Tommasino, having bowedlow, withdrew from the presence of the Duke. But when he got clearoutside of the Duke's cabinet, Antonio laid his hand on Tommasino'sshoulder, saying, "It is not well that Robert have her."

  "It is mighty ill," said Tommasino.

  And then they walked in silence to the city gate, and, in silencestill, climbed the rugged hill where Antonio's house stood.

  But the Duke sent for Robert de Beauregard into his cabinet and said tohim: "If you be wise, friend Robert, little grass shall grow under yourfeet this side your marriage. This Antonio says not much; but I haveknown him outrun his tongue with deeds."

  "If the lady were as eager as I, the matter would not halt," said Robertwith a laugh. "But she weeps and spits fire at me, and cries forAntonio."

  "She will be cured after the wedding," said the Duke. "But see that shebe well guarded, Robert; let a company of your men watch her. I haveknown the bride to be missing on a marriage day ere now."

  "If he can touch her, he may wed her," cried Robert. "The pikemen areclose about her house, and she can neither go in nor come forth withouttheir knowledge."

  "It is well," said the Duke. "Yet delay not. They are stubborn men,these Counts of Monte Velluto."

  Now had the Lady Lucia been of a spirit as haughty as her lover's, itmay be that she would have refused to wed Robert de Beauregard. But shewas afraid. When Antonio was with her, she had clung to him, and heloved her the more for her timidity. With him gone and forbidden to comenear her, she dared not resist the Duke's will nor brave hisdispleasure; so that a week before the day which the Duke had appointedfor the wedding, she sent to Antonio, bidding him abandon a hope thatwas vain and set himself to forget a most unhappy lady.

  "Robert shall no
t have her," said Antonio, putting the letter in hisbelt.

  "Then the time is short," said Tommasino.

  They were walking together on the terrace before Antonio's house, whencethey looked on the city across the river. Antonio cast his eye on theriver and on the wall of the Duke's garden that ran along it; fairtrees, shrubs, and flowers lined the top of the wall, and the watergleamed in the sunshine.

  "It is strange," said Antonio, musing, "that one maiden can darken for aman all the world that God lights with his sun. Yet since so it is,Tommasino, a man can be but a man; and being a man, he is a poor man, ifhe stand by while another takes his love."

  "And that other a stranger, and, as I swear, a cut-throat," addedTommasino.

  When they had dined and evening began to come on, Antonio made hisservants saddle the best horses in his stable--though, indeed, thechoice was small, for Antonio was not rich as a man of his rank countsriches--and the two rode down the hill towards the city. But, as theywent, Antonio turned once and again in his saddle and gazed long at theold gray house, the round tower, and the narrow gate.

  "Why look behind, and not forward?" asked Tommasino.

  "Because there is a foreboding in me," answered Antonio, "that it willbe long before that gate again I pass through. Were there a hope ofpersuading you, Tommasino, I would bid you turn back, and leave me to goalone on this errand."

  "Keep your breath against when you have to run," laughed Tommasino,pricking his horse and tossing his hair, dark as Antonio's was fair,back from his neck.

  Across the bridge they rode and through the gates, and having traversedthe great square, came to the door of Lucia's house, where it rosefronting the Duke's palace. Here Antonio dismounted, giving his bridleinto Tommasino's hand, and bade the servants carry his name to the LadyLucia. A stir arose among them and much whispering, till an old man,head of the servingmen, came forward, saying: "Pardon, my lord, but weare commanded not to admit you to the Lady Lucia;" and he waved his handtowards the inner part of the porch, where Antonio saw a dozen or morepikemen of the Duke's Guard drawn across the passage to the house; andtheir pikes flashed in the rays of the setting sun as they levelled themin front of their rank.

  Some of the townsmen and apprentice lads, stout fellows, each with astaff, had gathered now around Antonio, whom they loved for his feats ofstrength and his liberal gifts to the poor, and, understanding what wasafoot, one came to him, saying: "There are some, my lord, who wouldenter with you if you are set on entering," and the fellow's eyessparkled; for there was a great enmity in the town against the pikemen,and a lusty youth with a stick in his hand is never loth to find a usefor it.

  For a moment Count Antonio hesitated; for they flocked closer to him,and Tommasino threw him a glance of appeal and touched the hilt of hissword. But he would not that the blood of men who were themselves lovedby mothers, wives, and maids, should be shed in his quarrel, and heraised his hand, bidding them be still.

  "I have no quarrel with the pikeman," said he, "and we must not fightagainst His Highness's servants."

  The faces of the townsmen grew long in disappointment. Tommasino alonelaughed low, recognising in Antonio's gentleness the lull that heralds astorm. The Count was never more dangerous than when he praisedsubmission.

  "But," continued Antonio, "I would fain see the Lady Lucia." And withthis he stepped inside the porch, signing to Tommasino to stay where hewas; but the lad would not, and, leaping down, ran to his kinsman andstood shoulder to shoulder with him.

  Thus they stood facing the line of pikemen, when suddenly the opposingrank opened and Robert de Beauregard himself came through. Startingslightly on sight of Antonio, he yet bowed courteously, baring his head,and Antonio, with Tommasino, did the like.

  "What is your desire, my lord?" asked Robert.

  "I have naught to ask of you," answered Antonio, and he took a stepforward. Robert's hand flew to his sword, and in a moment they wouldhave fought. But now another figure came forward with uplifted hand. Itwas the Duke himself, and he looked on Antonio with his dark smile, andAntonio flushed red.

  "You seek me, Antonio?" asked the Duke.

  "I seek not your Highness, but my plighted wife," said Antonio.

  Duke Valentine smiled still. Coming to Antonio, he passed his armthrough his, and said in most friendly fashion: "Come with me to myhouse, and we will talk of this;" and Antonio, caught fast in the choicebetween obedience and open revolt, went frowning across the square, theDuke's arm through his, Robert on the Duke's other side, and, behind,Tommasino with the horses. But as they went, a sudden cry came from thehouse they left, and a girl's face showed for an instant, tear-stainedand pallid, at an open window. A shiver ran through Antonio; but theDuke pressing his arm, he went still in silence.

  At the door of the palace, a lackey took the horses from Tommasino, andthe four passed through the great hall and through the Duke's cabinetbeyond and into the garden; there the Duke sat down under the wall ofthe garden, near by the fish-pond, and turning suddenly on Antonio,spoke to him fiercely; "Men have died at my hands for less," said he.

  "Then for each of such shall you answer to God," retorted Antonio, notless hotly.

  "You scout my commands in the face of all the city," said the Duke inlow stern tones. "Now, by Heaven, if you seek to see the girl again, Iwill hang you from the tower of the gate. So be warned--now--once: thereshall be no second warning."

  He ceased, and sat with angry eyes on Antonio; and Robert, who stood byhis master, glared as fierce. But Antonio was silent for a while, andrested his arm on Tommasino's shoulder.

  "My fathers have served and fought for your fathers," said he at last."What has this gentleman done for the Duchy?"

  Then Robert spoke suddenly and scornfully: "This he is ready to do, topunish an insolent knave that braves His Highness's will."

  Antonio seemed not to hear him, for he did not move but stood with eyesbent on the Duke's face, looking whether his appeal should reach itsmark. But Tommasino heard; yet never a word spoke Tommasino either, buthe drew off the heavy riding-glove from his left hand, and it hungdangling in the fingers of his right, and he looked at the glove and atRobert and at the glove again.

  "I would his Highness were not here," said Tommasino to Robert with asmile.

  "Hold your peace, boy," said Robert, "or the Duke will have youwhipped."

  Youth loves not to be taunted with its blessed state. "I have no more tosay," cried Tommasino; and without more, caring naught now for thepresence of the Duke, he flung his heavy glove full in Robert's face,and, starting back a pace, drew his sword. Then Antonio knew that thedie was cast, for Tommasino would gain no mercy, having insulted theDuke's favourite and drawn his sword in the Duke's palace; and he alsodrew out his sword, and the pair stood facing the Duke and Robert deBeauregard. It was but for an instant that they stood thus; then Robert,who did not lack courage to resent a blow, unsheathed and rushed at theboy. Antonio left his cousin to defend himself, and, bowing low to theDuke, set his sword at the Duke's breast, before the Duke could so muchas rise from his seat.

  "I would not touch your Highness," said he, "but these gentlemen mustnot be interrupted."

  "You take me at a disadvantage," cried the Duke.

  "If you will swear not to summon your guard, I will sheath my sword, mylord; or, if you will honour me by crossing yours on mine, you shalldraw yours."

  The place where they sat was hidden from the palace windows, yet theDuke trusted that the sound of the clashing steel would bring aid;therefore, not desiring to fight with Antonio (for Duke Valentine lovedto scheme rather than to strike), he sat still, answering nothing. Andnow Tommasino and Robert were engaged, Robert attacking furiously andTommasino parrying him as coolly as though they fenced for pastime inthe school. It was Tommasino's fault to think of naught but the momentand he did not remember that every second might bring the guard uponthem. And Antonio would not call it to his mind, but he said to theDuke: "The boy will kill him, sir. He is a finer swordsman than I, andm
arvellously active."

  Then the Duke, having been pondering on his course, and knowingAntonio--sitting there with the Count's sword against his breast--didby calculation what many a man braver in fight had not dared to do.There was in truth a courage in it, for all that it was born ofshrewdness. For, thus with the sword on his heart, fixing a calm glanceon Antonio, he cried as loudly as he could, "Help, help, treason!"

  Antonio drew back his arm for the stroke; and the Duke sat still; then,swift as thought, Antonio laughed, bowed to Duke Valentine and, turning,rushed between the fighters, striking up their swords. In amazement theystood for a moment: Antonio drove his sword into its sheath, and, whileRobert was yet astounded, he rushed on him, caught him by the waist,and, putting forth his strength, flung him clear and far into thefish-pond. Then seizing Tommasino by the arm he started with him at arun for the great hall. The Duke rose, crying loudly, "Treason,treason!" But Antonio cried "Treason, treason," yet louder than theDuke; and presently Tommasino, who had frowned at his pastime beinginterrupted, fell a-laughing, and between the laughs cried "Treason,treason!" with Antonio. And at the entrance of the hall they met adozen pikemen running; and Antonio, pointing over his shoulder, calledin tones of horror, "Treason, treason!" And Tommasino cried, "The Duke!Help the Duke!" So that they passed untouched through the pikemen, whohesitated an instant in bewilderment but then swept on; for they heardthe Duke's own voice crying still "Treason, treason!" And through thehall and out to the portico passed the cousins, echoing their cries of"Treason!" And every man they met went whither they pointed; and whenthey leapt on their horses, the very lackey that had held them droppedthe bridles with hasty speed and ran into the palace, crying "Treason!"Then Antonio, Tommasino ever following, and both yet crying "Treason!"dashed across the square; and on the way they met the pikemen whoguarded the Lady Lucia, and the townsmen who were mocking and snarlingat the pikemen; and to pikemen and townsmen alike they cried (thoughTommasino hardly could speak now for laughter and lack of breath),"Treason, treason!" And all to whom they cried flocked to the palace,crying in their turn, "Treason, treason!" so that people ran out ofevery house in the neighbourhood and hurried to the palace, crying"Treason!" and every one asking his neighbour what the treason was. Andthus, by the time in which a man might count a hundred, a crowd waspushing and pressing and striving round the gate of the palace, and thecousins were alone on the other side of the great square.

  "Now thanks be to God for that idea!" gasped Tommasino.

  But Antonio gave not thanks till his meal was ended. Raising his voiceas he halted his horse before the Lady Lucia's house, he called loudly,no longer "Treason!" but "Lucia!" And she, knowing his voice, looked outagain from the window; but some hand plucked her away as soon as she hadbut looked. Then Antonio leapt from his horse with an oath and ran tothe door, and finding it unguarded, he rushed in, leaving Tommasinoseated on one horse and holding the other, with one eye on Lucia's houseand the other on the palace, praying that, by the favour of Heaven,Antonio might come out again before the crowd round the Duke's gatesdiscovered why it was, to a man, crying "Treason!"

  But in the palace of the Duke there was great confusion. For thepikemen, finding Robert de Beauregard scrambling out of the fish-pondwith a drawn sword in his hand, and His Highness crying "Treason!" withthe best of them, must have it that the traitor was none other thanRobert himself, and in their dutiful zeal they came nigh to making anend of him then and there, before the Duke could gain silence enough torender his account of the affair audible. And when the first pikemenwere informed, there came others; and these others, finding the firstthronging round the Duke and Robert, cried out on them for the traitors,and were on the point of engaging them; and when they also had been withdifficulty convinced, and the two parties, with His Highness and Robert,turned to the pursuit of the cousins, they found the whole of the greathall utterly blocked by a concourse of the townsmen, delighted beyondmeasure at the chance of an affray with the hated pikemen, who, theyconceived, must beyond doubt be the wicked traitors that had risen inarms against the Duke's life and throne. Narrowly indeed was a greatbattle in the hall averted by the Duke himself, who leapt upon a highseat and spoke long and earnestly to the people, persuading them thatnot the pikemen, but Antonio and Tommasino, were the traitors; which thetownsmen found hard to believe, in part because they wished not tobelieve ill of Antonio, and more inasmuch as every man there knew--andthe women and children also--that Antonio and Tommasino, and none elseof all the city had raised the alarm. But some hearkened at last; andwith these and a solid wedge of the pikemen, the Duke and Robert, withmuch ado, thrust their way through the crowd and won access to the doorof the palace.

  In what time a thousand men may be convinced, you may hope to turn onewoman's mind, and at the instant that the Duke gained the square withhis friends and his guards, Count Antonio had prevailed on the LadyLucia to brave His Highness's wrath. It is true that he had met withsome resistance from the steward, who was in Robert's pay, and hadtarried to buffet the fellow into obedience; and with more from an oldgoverness, who, since she could not be buffeted, had perforce to belocked in a cupboard; yet the better part of the time had to be spent inimploring Lucia herself. At last, with many fears and some tears, shehad yielded, and it was with glad eyes that Tommasino saw the Count comeforth from the door carrying Lucia on his arm; and others saw him also;for a great shout came from the Duke's party across the square, and thepikemen set out at a run with Robert himself at their head. Yet so soonas they were started, Antonio also, bearing Lucia in his arms, hadreached where Tommasino was with the horses, and an instant later he wasmounted and cried, "To the gate!" and he struck in his spurs, and hishorse bounded forward, Tommasino following. No more than a hundred yardslay between them and the gate of the city, and before the pikemen couldbar their path they had reached the gate. The gate-wardens were in theact of shutting it, having perceived the tumult; but Tommasino struckat them with the flat of his sword, and they gave way before therushing horses; and before the great gate was shut, Antonio and he wereon their way through, and the hoofs of their horses clattered over thebridge. Thus Antonio was clear of the city with his lady in his arms andTommasino his cousin safe by his side.

  Yet they were not safe; for neither Duke Valentine nor Robert deBeauregard was a man who sat down under defeat. But few moments hadpassed before there issued from the gate a company of ten mounted andarmed men, and Robert, riding in their front, saw, hard on a mile away,the cousins heading across the plain towards the spot where the spurs ofMount Agnino run down; for there was the way of safety. But it was yetten miles away. And Robert and his company galloped furiously inpursuit, while Duke Valentine watched from the wall of the garden abovethe river.

  Now Count Antonio was a big man and heavy, so that his horse was weigheddown by the twofold burden on its back; and looking behind him, heperceived that Robert's company drew nearer and yet nearer. AndTommasino, looking also, said, "I doubt they are too many for us, foryou have the lady in your arms. We shall not get clear of the hills."

  Then Antonio drew in his horse a little and, letting the bridle fall,took the Lady Lucia in both his arms and kissed her, and having thusdone, lifted her and set her on Tommasino's horse. "Thank God," said he,"that you are no heavier than a feather."

  "Yet two feathers may be too much," said Tommasino.

  "Ride on," said Antonio. "I will check them for a time, so that youshall come safe to the outset of the hill."

  Tommasino obeyed him; and Antonio, riding more softly now, placedhimself between Tommasino and the pursuers. Tommasino rode on with theswooning lady in his arms; but his face was grave and troubled, for, ashe said, two feathers may be overmuch, and Robert's company rode welland swiftly.

  "If Antonio can stop them, it is well," said he; "but if not, I shallnot reach the hills;" and he looked with no great love on the unhappylady, for it seemed like enough that Antonio would be slain for hersake, and Tommasino prized him above a thousand damsels. Yet he rode on,obed
ient.

  But Antonio's scheme had not passed undetected by Robert de Beauregard;and Robert, being a man of guile and cunning, swore aloud an oath that,though he died himself, yet Tommasino should not carry off Lucia.Therefore he charged his men one and all to ride after Tommasino andbring back Lucia, leaving him alone to contend with Antonio; and theywere not loth to obey, for it was little to their taste or wish tosurround Antonio and kill him. Thus, when the company came within fiftyyards of Antonio, the ranks suddenly parted; five diverged to the right,and four to the left, passing Antonio in sweeping curves, so far offthat he could not reach them, while Robert alone rode straight at him.Antonio, perceiving the stratagem, would fain have ridden again afterTommasino; but Robert was hard upon him, and he was in peril of beingthrust through the back as he fled. So he turned and faced his enemy.But although Robert had sworn so boldly before his men, his mind was notwhat he had declared to them, and he desired to meet Antonio alone, notthat he might fight a fair fight with him, but in order treacherously todeceive him--a thing he was ashamed to do before his comrades. Coming upthen to Antonio, he reined in his horse, crying, "My lord, I bring peacefrom His Highness."

  Antonio wondered to hear him; yet, when Robert, his sword lyinguntouched in its sheath, sprang from his horse and approached him, hedismounted also; and Robert said to him: "I have charged them to injureneither the Lady Lucia nor your cousin by so much as a hair; for theDuke bids me say that he will not constrain the lady."

  "Is she then given to me?" cried Antonio, his face lighting up with amarvellous eagerness.

  "Nay, not so fast," answered Robert with subtle cunning. "The Duke willnot give her to you now. But he will exact from you and from me alikean oath not to molest, no, not to see her, for three months, and thenshe shall choose as she will between us."

  While he spoke this fair speech, he had been drawing nearer to Antonio;and Antonio, not yet convinced of his honesty, drew back a pace. ThenRobert let go hold of his horse, unbuckled his sword, flung it on theground, and came to Antonio with outstretched hands. "Behold!" said he;"I am in your mercy, my lord. If you do not believe me, slay me."

  Antonio looked at him with searching wistful eyes; he hated to waragainst the Duke, and his heart was aflame with the hope that dwelt forhim in Robert's words; for he did not doubt but that neither threemonths, nor three years, nor three hundred years, could change hislady's love.

  "You speak fair, sir," said he; "but what warrant have I?"

  "And, save your honour, what warrant have I, who stand here unarmedbefore you?" asked Robert.

  For a while Antonio pondered; then he said, "My lord, I must crave yourpardon for my doubt; but the matter is so great that to your word I darenot trust; but if you will ride back with your men and pray the Duke tosend me a promise under his own hand, to that I will trust. Andmeanwhile Tommasino, with the Lady Lucia, shall abide in a safe place,and I will stay here, awaiting your return; and, if you will, let two ofyour men stay with me."

  "Many a man, my lord," returned Robert, "would take your caution in badpart. But let it be so. Come, we will ride after my company." And herose and caught Antonio's horse by the bridle and brought it to him;"Mount, my lord," said he, standing by.

  Antonio, believing either that the man was true or that histreachery--if treachery there were in him--was foiled, and seeing him toall seeming unarmed, save for a little dagger in his belt which wouldhardly suffice to kill a man and was more a thing of ornament than use,set his foot in the stirrup and prepared to mount. And in so doing heturned his back on Robert de Beauregard. The moment for which thatwicked man had schemed and lied was come. Still holding Antonio'sstirrup with one hand, he drew, swift as lightning, from under hiscloak, a dagger different far from the toy in his belt--short, strong,broad, and keen. And that moment had been Antonio's last, had it notchanced that, on the instant Robert drew the dagger, the horse started apace aside, and Antonio, taken unawares, stumbled forward and came nearfalling on the ground. His salvation lay in that stumble, for Robert,having put all his strength into the blow, and then striking not Antoniobut empty air, in his turn staggered forward, and could not recoverhimself before Antonio turned round, a smile at his own unwariness onhis lips.

  Then he saw the broad keen knife in the hand of Robert. Robert breathedquickly, and glared at him, but did not rush on him. He stood glaring,the knife in his hands, his parted lips displaying grinning teeth. Not aword spoke Antonio, but he drew his sword, and pointed where Robert'ssword lay on the grass. The traitor, recognising the grace that allowedhim to take his sword, shamed, it may be, by such return for his owntreachery, in silence lifted and drew it; and, withdrawing to a distancefrom the horses, which quietly cropped the grass, the two faced oneanother.

  Calm and easy were the bearing and the air of Count Antonio, if thepictures of him that live drawn in the words of those who knew him betruthful; calm and easy ever was he, save when he fought; but then itseemed as though there came upon him a sort of fury akin to madness, or(as the ancients would have fabled) to some inspiration from the God ofWar, which transformed him utterly, imbuing him with a rage and rushingimpetuosity. Here lay his danger when matched with such a swordsman aswas little Tommasino; but for all that, few cared to meet him, somesaying that, though they called themselves as brave as others, yet theyseemed half appalled when Count Antonio set upon them; for he fought asthough he must surely win and as though God were with him. Thus now hedarted upon Robert de Beauregard, in seeming recklessness of receivingthrusts himself, yet ever escaping them by his sudden resource anddexterity and ever himself attacking, leaving no space to take breath,and bewildering the other's practised skill by the dash and brillianceof his assault. And it may be also that the darkness, which was nowfalling fast, hindered Robert the more, for Antonio was famed for thekeenness of his eyes by night. Be these things as they may, in the verymoment when Robert pricked Antonio in the left arm and cried out intriumph on his stroke, Antonio leapt on him and drove his sword throughhis heart; and Robert, with the sword yet in him, fell to the ground,groaning. And when Antonio drew forth the sword, the man at his feetdied. Thus, if it be God's will, may all traitors perish.

  Antonio looked round the plain; but it grew darker still, and even hissight did not avail for more than some threescore yards. Yet he saw adark mass on his right, distant, as he judged, that space or more.Rapidly it moved: surely it was a group of men galloping, and Antoniostood motionless regarding them. But they swept on, not turning whitherhe stood; and he, unable to tell what they did, whether they sought himor whither they went, watched them till they faded away in the darkness;and then, leaving Robert where he lay, he mounted his horse and madespeed towards the hills, praying that there he should find his cousinand the Lady Lucia, escaped from the pursuit of the Duke's men. Yet hadhe known what those dimly discerned riders bore with them, he would havebeen greatly moved at all costs and at every hazard to follow after themand seek to overtake them before they came to the city.

  On he rode towards the hills, quickly, yet not so hastily but that hescanned the ground as he went so well as the night allowed him. The moonwas risen now and to see was easier. When he had covered a distance ofsome two miles, he perceived something lying across his path. Bending tolook, he found it to be the corpse of a horse: he leapt down and bentover it. It was the horse Tommasino had ridden; it was hamstrung, andits throat had been cut. Antonio, seeing it, in sudden apprehension ofcalamity, cried aloud; and to his wonder his cry was answered by avoice which came from a clump of bushes fifty yards on the right. He ranhastily to the spot, thinking nothing of his own safety nor of anythingelse than what had befallen his friends; and under the shelter of thebushes two men of the Duke's Guard, their horses tethered near them,squatted on the ground, and, between, Tommasino lay full length on theground. His face was white, his eyes closed, and a bloody bandage wasabout his head. One of the two by him had forced his lips open and wasgiving him to drink from a bottle. The other sprang up on sight ofAntonio and laid a hand to h
is sword-hilt.

  "Peace, peace!" said Antonio. "Is the lad dead?"

  "He is not dead, my lord, but he is sore hurt."

  "And what do you here with him? And how did you take him?"

  "We came up with him here, and surrounded him; and while some of us heldhim in front, one cut the hamstrings of his horse from behind; and thehorse fell, and with the horse the lady and the young lord. He was up inan instant; but as he rose, the lieutenant struck him on the head anddealt him the wound you see. Then he could fight no more; and thelieutenant took the lady, and with the rest rode back towards the city,leaving us charged with the duty of bringing the young lord in so soonas he was in a state to come with us."

  "They took the lady?"

  "Even so, my lord."

  "And why did they not seek for me?"

  The fellow--Martolo was his name--smiled grimly; and his comrade,looking up, answered: "Maybe they did not wish to find you, my lord.They had been eight to one, and could not have failed to take you in theend."

  "Aye, in the end," said Martolo, laughing now. "Nor," added he, "had thelieutenant such great love for Robert de Beauregard that he wouldrejoice to deliver you to death for his sake, seeing that you are aMonte Velluto and he a rascally----"

  "Peace! He is dead," said Count Antonio.

  "You have killed him?" they cried with one voice.

  "He attacked me in treachery, and I have killed him," answered Antonio.

  For a while there was silence. Then Antonio asked, "The lady--did she gowillingly?"

  "She was frightened and dazed by her fall, my lord; she knew not whatshe did nor what they did to her. And the lieutenant took her in frontof him, and, holding her with all gentleness, so rode towards the city."

  "God keep her," said Antonio.

  "Amen, poor lady!" said Martolo, doffing his cap.

  Then Antonio whistled to his horse, which came to his side; with agesture he bade the men stand aside, and they obeyed him; and hegathered Tommasino in his arms. "Hold my stirrup, that I may mount,"said he; and still they obeyed. But when they saw him mounted, withTommasino seated in front of him, Martolo cried, "But, my lord, we arecharged to take him back and deliver him to the Duke."

  "And if you do?" asked Antonio.

  Martolo made a movement as of one tying a noose.

  "And if you do not?" asked Antonio.

  "Then we had best not show ourselves alive to the Duke."

  Antonio looked down on them. "To whom bear you allegiance?" said he.

  "To His Highness the Duke," they answered, uncovering as they spoke.

  "And to whom besides?" asked Antonio.

  "To none besides," they answered, wondering.

  "Aye, but you do," said he. "To One who wills not that you shoulddeliver to death a lad who has done but what his honour bade him."

  "God's counsel God knows," said Martolo. "We are dead men if we returnalone to the city. You had best slay us yourself, my lord, if we may notcarry the young lord with us."

  "You are honest lads, are you not?" he asked. "By your faces, you aremen of the city."

  "So are we, my lord; but we serve the Duke in his Guard for reward."

  "I love the men of the city as they love me," said Antonio. "And a fewpence a day should not buy a man's soul as well as his body."

  The two men looked at one another in perplexity. The fear and deferencein which they held Antonio forbade them to fall on him; yet they darednot let him take Tommasino. Then, as they stood doubting, he spoke lowand softly to them: "When he that should give law and uphold right dealswrong, and makes white black and black white, it is for gentlemen andhonest men to be a law unto themselves. Mount your horses, then, andfollow me. And so long as I am safe, you shall be safe; and so long as Ilive, you shall live; and while I eat and drink, you shall have to drinkand eat; and you shall be my servants. And when the time of God'swill--whereof God forbid that I should doubt--is come, I will go back toher I love, and you shall go back to them that love you; and men shallsay that you have proved yourselves true men and good."

  Thus it was that two men of the Duke's Guard--Martolo and he whom theycalled Bena (for of his true name there is no record)--went togetherwith Count Antonio and his cousin Tommasino to a secret fastness in thehills; and there in the course of many days Tommasino was healed of thewound which the Lieutenant of the Guard had given him, and rode hishorse again, and held next place to Antonio himself in the band thatgathered round them. For there came to them every man that waswrongfully oppressed; and some came for love of adventure and becausethey hoped to strike good blows; and some came whom Antonio would notreceive, inasmuch as they were greater rogues than were those whosewrath they fled from.

  Such is the tale of how Count Antonio was outlawed from the Duke's peaceand took to the hills. Faithfully have I set it down, and whoso will mayblame the Count, and whoso will may praise him. For myself, I thankHeaven that I am well rid of this same troublesome passion of love thatlikens one man to a lion and another to a fox.

  But the Lady Lucia, being brought back to the city by the Lieutenant ofthe Guard, was lodged in her own house, and the charge of her wascommended by the Duke into the hands of a discreet lady; and for a whileHis Highness, for very shame, forbore to trouble her with suitors. Forhe said, in his bitter humour, as he looked down on the dead body ofRobert de Beauregard: "I have lost two good servants and four strongarms through her; and mayhap, if I find her another suitor, she will robme of yet another stalwart gentleman."

  So she abode, in peace indeed, but in sore desolation and sorrow,longing for the day when Count Antonio should come back to seek her. Andagain was she closely guarded by the Duke.