CHAPTER X.
NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI.
As we reached the street, I expressed the hope that the lady and herstout companion were in safety. The stranger laughed: "Oh,Buonoccorsi, he and La Sirani are no doubt shivering in security bythis time; but let us hasten, for although we have barely more than acouple of cross-bow shots to go, our bravos may return and have betterluck. St. John! but it was a narrow affair."
Our way led back by Santa Felicita, past the Ponte Vecchio, and atlength we came to a halt before a small side door, let into, whatseemed to me, nothing but a vast blank wall. My new friend opened thisdoor noiselessly, with a key he drew from his pocket, and invited meto enter. Pleading ignorance of the way, however, I gave him the pass,and followed him up a narrow and very dark stairway, which opened intoa long gallery, likewise in semidarkness. Up this gallery we went,then there was another small passage, and lifting a curtain at the endof this, we stepped past an open door into a large room, evidently astudy, for it was filled with books all but the side near the passage,which was covered by a heavy tapestry. In the middle of the room was alarge table, littered with papers in much confusion, and eight tallcandles burning in a pair of grotesque candelabra, threw a bright butsoft light over the chamber.
"Sit you down there," said my host, pointing to a chair, "and we willhave something to drink. _Diavolo!_ You are wounded! Why did you notsay?"
I looked at my left arm, and sure enough the coat-sleeve was red, withan enlargening patch. It was only a trifle, however, as we found onexamination; but my companion, who still kept his mask on, insisted onbandaging it, which he did with deft fingers, and then turning to acuriously inlaid cabinet let into the wall, brought thenceforth aflagon of green crystal and two long-stemmed Venetian glasses.
Whilst he was thus engaged my eyes rested on a book on the table, andI saw at a glance that it was the copy of Plutarch's Lives which Cecihad lent me on payment, so that it was most probable that I was in thepresence of the noble, against whom the Medici plot was directed, andin whose library the intendant's nephew was employed, partly I guessedas a spy. My hand was on the book as my host placed the glasses on thetable, and observing the movement, he said with a smile:
"I see, Signore, you not only carry a sharp sword; but know a book aswell."
"As for books, Signore," I answered, "I know but little of them. Thisone, however, I thought I had seen before."
"Indeed," he said, "that is odd, for I believe this is the onlyrendering of Plutarch into Italian which is in existence. Strange,too, as for over a week I could not find it anywhere."
"Very," I answered shortly, and my host, pouring out a glass for me,helped himself, and settling comfortably in a chair opposite to me,slowly removed his mask and laid it aside. I saw before me, a man inthe prime of life, of middle height and slender figure, with however agreat dignity of carriage. His head, covered with short dark hair, wassmall, but well-shaped, his dark eyes sparkled with intelligence, anda slightly aquiline nose curved over a pair of thin, sarcastic lips,which were however now smiling at me with as much good-humour as theycould express.
"Books," he said, "are the delight of my life, without them all wouldbe stale. Here," and he held up a volume, "is a priceless treasure. Itis a manuscript copy of Cicero's De Gloria. I obtained it from myfriend, poor Angelo Poliziano."
"I am afraid," I said, "I could only look at it, for I have notstudied the ancients."
He laid down the book: "Of a truth, men were giants in those days--buthark! That is too loud for a rat." At this moment we heard a distinctrustling behind the tapestry, which hung on one side of the wall. Myhost sprang up, and with his drawn rapier in his hand, lifted thearras. I followed him; but we observed nothing but a door, which wasconcealed behind the curtain. "This is a private door leading to thecorridor, and confound it--it is open. How the devil did this happen?However, this will make things sure." He turned the key which was inthe lock, and removing it, placed it carefully aside in a drawer, andhis face was shaded a little with anxiety. This however he brushed offlike a fly, and resuming our seats, he poured out some more wine forboth of us, and said:
"Signore, now that I observe you closely, it appears to me that yoursword, good as it is, has not helped you to fill your purse."
"It was able to save your life, Messer--I know not your name," Ianswered with a little heat, and rose as if to take my leave. Helaughed cheerfully, and putting his hand on my shoulder, pressed meback into my chair.
"Sit down, signore, I meant no offence, and my name is NiccoloMachiavelli. Will you give me yours in return?"
I was then before the Secretary of the Council of Ten, the craftypolitician who at that time held Florence in his hand, and with whosename all Italy was full. I now understood Ceci's plot at once, but thequestion was, should I give my right name? Sooner or later theSecretary would find out, and I accordingly answered him as honestlyas possible.
"I pass under the name of Donati, your excellency, will that do?"
He leaned back reflectively. "I like confidence when I give it," hesaid, "and yet perhaps it does not matter. You had no idea who I waswhen you helped me?" he added with a quick look.
"Not in the slightest." I did not feel justified in adding more.
"Well, Signore Donati, I have work for which I want a brave man, andif you care to accept it, I offer it to you."
"Your excellency, I will plainly say that I hardly know where to turnfor employment, in fact, I am in such straits that I cannot afford tolook for a hair in any egg that may fall my way; at the same time yourbusiness must be such as I can take with honour."
"With honour of course," he smiled sarcastically, and then added, "Isuppose I can trust you?"
"You need not give me the employment, signore, if you do not think youcan trust me--and pardon me--it is getting late."
"Sit down, man, I did but try you, and you are the man I want. Wheredo you lodge?"
"In the Albizzi Palace, in the street di Pucci."
"Could you leave Florence at a moment's notice?"
"It is a matter of funds."
"They will be provided."
"Then, yes."
"Enough! To-morrow a man will call on you, precisely at noontide, witha letter. I want that letter delivered into the hands of the Cardinalof Rouen at Rome. It is a secret matter, and if you fail in it you mayforfeit your life. If you succeed, his eminence will give you furtheroccupation. Do you accept?"
"Yes."
As I said this we again heard the creaking noise, and Machiavellijumped up as agilely as a panther, and sprung to the door behind thearras. It was open; but no one was there.
"_Maldetto!_" he exclaimed. "Signore, there are spies in my ownhouse--help me to tear down this tapestry."
I did so, and in a few minutes we laid bare the side of the room, andpiled the tapestry in a heap against a bookshelf.
"That is better," Machiavelli said, "you see--the spy, whoever he is,must have a master key. There is no use going into the passage afterhim; but for the present I fancy we are safe. I must have a bolt puton and keep a watch. To resume business however. You say you accept,and only need funds."
"Exactly so."
He pulled from a drawer a bag, which chinked with a pleasant sound tomy ears.
"Here," he said, "are a hundred crowns. It is your fee for the task Iset you."
"It is ample."
"And now, Messer--Donati--farewell! You will always find a friend inme. You know your way--I have left the side door open--and bear aloose sword."
"A word, your excellency."
"Say on."
"Prom what has happened to-night, I see plainly that the plottersagainst your life have friends very near you. If they failed this timethey may not fail again. One of the men who made the attack to-night Irecognised. He is called Brico, formerly an ancient, perhaps still so,in the army of Tremouille."
"I will attend to the Signor Brico."
"Yet
a little more. If your excellency's movements are known it isprobably from within your own house. I would keep an eye on yourlibrary scribe."
"_Per Bacco!_ Signor Donati, but you know too much. I am more and moreyour debtor."
"The hundred crowns have repaid me," I replied as I took my departure,having said all I dared say of the plot without breaking my pledge ofsecrecy to Ceci.
Now it happened that as I gained the corridor, I saw in the dim lighta figure retreating hastily before me; but with noiseless footsteps,and having in mind the strange attempt to play the spy on us, I madeno doubt but that here was the culprit, and followed up. I saw thefigure turn at the end of the corridor and enter another gallery, thenanother, and yet another, finally vanishing as it were against thewall. Owing to my not knowing the way properly, and to the semi-gloom,I was unable to follow fast enough to overtake the spy, who flittedbefore me like a ghost, but in a very human hurry. When at length Icame up to the wall, I looked to see if there was a door of any kind;but could discern nothing, and was so astonished that for a moment Ifelt a little chilled, thinking that it may have been a spirit afterall. Fortifying myself, however, with the thought that if it was aspirit, it seemed in no way anxious to meet me, I went to a closerexamination, and saw by the moonlight that I was before a door,painted in exact imitation of the marble wall. This settled my doubts,and putting my shoulder to it, I made a trial, with all my strength,to force the passage, but in vain. I therefore gave up the matter, andturned to find my way back. This was, however, easier said than done.I could not find the gallery I wanted, and after groping abouthopelessly for a little time, thought that I had best give a shout,which would no doubt summon some one to my aid. I was just about tocarry this into execution, when, on further reflection, it struck methat I might be landed in other difficulties thereby, and that I mightmake another try to free myself, without bringing the house about myears, and perhaps compromising the secretary, who had, I saw, anactive and enterprising enemy under his own roof. So I stilled mytongue and made further exploration, with the result that I foundmyself before a stairway, that led to the floor below me, anddetermined to see where this would take me. Accordingly I descended assoftly as possible, and arrived in a few steps at a small landing,covered by a carpet so thick, that I felt as if I was treading on thesoftest of moss. At the end of the landing, and opposite to me, was ahalf-opened door, the room inside being in light. Stepping noiselesslyup to the door I peered in, and saw a chamber furnished with theutmost luxury, and apparently just vacated by its occupants. In acorner of the room stood a harp, lying on a table close to a lowluxurious seat were some articles of dainty feminine embroidery; softsilken curtains shrouded the walls, and the ceiling was painted,apparently with some representation of the history of the house. Awhite marble figure of Cupid held out at arm's length a lamp, whoseopal shade softened its bright light; and on a gilded triangle, set inan alcove, swung a blue and scarlet macaw--a rare Eastern bird--who,with his head tucked under his wing, slept in a position which wouldbe intolerable torture to any other created thing except a bird. Itwas clear that I had invaded the private sitting-room of the ladies,or lady of the household; and I was about to beat a hasty retreat,when the screen of an inner room was swung aside, and I saw before memy two unknowns of the Garden of St. Michael, and the giver of thetari which had saved me from death. It was too late to go back now, asthe sound of my feet on the marble stairs would certainly reach, andperhaps alarm them, tread I ever so softly; so I resolved to staywhere I was until they retired again, and then go back. This I judgedwould be very shortly as it was late. I had not however sufficientexperience then, of the lengths to which those nocturnal confidences,in which the fair sex indulge with each other, extend. In the meantimeI could not but admire the graceful figures before me, and especiallyof her, who had given me the tari. Clad in a soft clinging robe,clasped by a jewel at her throat, and a silver girdle round her waist,with her pale proud features set in a mass of dark hair, she seemed tome an embodiment of pure womanhood, and I thought how lucky the manwould be who could have such a companion to help him through life. Iguessed also that the other was the wife of Machiavelli, being aidedthereto by her statement, when I drove Luigi off, that her husband wasone who could help me much. At the same time I could not but feel somepity in my heart for her, when I thought she was wedded to a man of acharacter so contradictory as that of the Secretary, who could leave afair wife for the sake of indulging in low dissipation, and come backafter a narrow escape with his life, to bury himself in matters ofstate, or in the perusal of the ancients. However there was no sign ofsorrow on her fair and mirthful face, as with all the teasing natureof a kitten, she walked up to the macaw and stirred him up with herwhite fingers, an attention he did not appear to relish, for heruffled his plume, and let forth an ear-piercing shriek.
"Heavens!" she laughed, "how that bird screams! He is almost as crossas you, Angiola."
"Thanks," replied the other; "I do sympathise with the bird though,for you never leave off teasing. It is enough to make a saint cross,Marietta."
"Well, I won't tease any more," and Marietta put her hand on herfriend's shoulder. "I am sure though it was he, and I will have thatlast word."
I wondered to whom the reference was made, as Angiola replied: "Ireally do not care if it was; but there is a draught, and I must shutthis door."
She came up so quickly that there was no time to retreat, and in amoment I was discovered.
She gave a little cry, and stepped back.
"Who are you, sir? How dare you----!"
I saw that the other was going to scream out, and burst forth: "Madam,I implore you to be still. There is absolutely no danger. I have hadbusiness with his excellency, and missed my way. Pardon theintrusion," and I stood with my cap in my hand.
"Well, sir," said the Lady Angiola, "as you have found out that youhave missed your way, had you not better turn back?"
"Why, Angiola, it is the gentleman who rescued us in the gardens!"called out Madonna Marietta, with a sudden recognition.
"Who looks as if he were here now, to make up for it by cutting ourthroats. According to you he should have been dying of starvation atSanta Felicita."
"Madam," I cut in, "I wish I had died of starvation rather than heardthis. I will however restore what I have received. If you can onlyshow me the way out of this house I shall be grateful, and I againseek pardon for disturbing you."
"I suppose you are speaking the truth. Come, give me that candle,Marietta."
The other handed her a candlestick, and refusing my proffer to bearit, and with a curt request to walk in front, she directed and led mealong the interminable galleries until I recognised the corridor fromwhich I entered. I was again about to thank her, but she simplypointed to the door.
"Your way lies there, sir."
I opened the door and stepped on to the stairway without another word.In shutting the door behind me I glanced once more in her direction.She was already on her way back, the single candle throwing its softlight on her loose robes and graceful figure.
I made my way down the stairs, at the end realising the sensation ofsuddenly finding my foot meet the ground after the last step. Ithought there was yet another and was brought up with a nasty jerk.Stepping out softly into the street, and holding my drawn sword in myhand, I hurried towards my abode. When I had gone about fifty paces, Iheard the sound of a door opening and shutting behind me, but thinkingit was the wind playing with the door I had left unlocked, having nokey, I took no notice, and went on; but soon became aware I was beingfollowed. I stopped therefore, and deliberately faced round. Thefootsteps behind me instantly ceased, and I could make out through themoonlight, the shadowy figure of a man, stooping as if to search forsomething. This was of course nothing but a pretence, and I had half amind to go back and question him. Reflecting, however, that it wouldbe wiser to avoid any further adventures for the night, and that afterall it was but one man, I went on, and my pursuer did likewise, but ata greater distance t
han before, until finally apparently gave thematter up seeing I was on my guard. Crossing the square of SantaFelicita, however, I saw some one running swiftly a little ahead ofme, and then disappear behind the shelter of the small casino of theMedici which stood there. I felt sure it was my shadower. He hadpassed me by some short cut, and was now probably intending to bringmatters to a head. Keeping well in the middle of the road I went on,and to my surprise saw nothing, but in a short time again becameconscious that I was dogged, and dropping into an artifice quickenedmy pace to a run. The sound of rapid footsteps behind me, showed thatmy curious friend was doing likewise, and not to deprive him of theexercise, I kept up the pace, until we reached the street di Pucci andwere close to my lodging. Here I faced about and ran back full speedat my pursuer, feeling sure that the burst I had given him would tryall his speed to get away. He so little calculated on my change offront, that he ran on about twenty yards, before realising what wasthe matter. Then he turned round and was about to make off, when Ireached him, and driving him against the wall held him there, with thepoint of my sword at his breast. Imagine my surprise on seeing beforeme the young man with whom Ceci had gone away on our return from thefuneral of Corte's daughter. He was doubtless also the spy of theevening, and now, with a face white with either terror or angercrouched against the wall, holding a dagger in his hand; but anyattempt to use it would have been useless.
"Well," I said, "have you had enough of this?" and I emphasised thequestion with a sharp prick.
"Mercy!" he called out, thinking his last hour come, and scrabbled onto the pavement.
"Be off with you then!" I said, and assisted his departure with ahearty kick as he rose. He needed no second bidding, but made off at agood pace.
When his figure mingled up with the haze, and was lost to view, Iproceeded on my way wondering a little at the incident. I could nothelp connecting it with the affair in the Secretary's room--the man Ihad chased up the endless galleries of his house, and the attempt atmurder in the Marzocco Inn. Why was I followed? I could not make thisout; but thankful that I had escaped with a whole skin, climbed up thewinding stairway of the tower which led to my chamber. Carefullyshutting the door, I lit my candle, and emptied out the contents ofthe bag I had received from Machiavelli on to my bed so that the coinsmight make no sound.
The Honour of Savelli: A Romance Page 11