The Honour of Savelli: A Romance

by S. Levett Yeats

  CHAPTER XIII.

  ROME.

  As we rode up to the ruinous stretch of the battered wall, and sawbefore us the gate, lying open against the mottled green and greyhigh-ground of the Aventine, that old hill, covered with stragglingand unkempt vineyards, and studded with the walls of monasteries, Iwas moved more than I can tell, for I was about to realise a dream ofmy life, and put foot once again in the place of my birth, a spot notonly bound to me by that tie, but sacred with the hundred legends ofmy forefathers' history, men who had for centuries played so great apart in its fate, until our house was cast forth by the mother-city,to wander as exiles over the land. It is true that since the days ofmy childhood I had not seen Rome, it is true that such memories of itas I had were dim and misty, and that to recall them was like tryingto bring back before one's eyes, when awake, the vague but pleasantvisions of a delightful dream; nevertheless my heart filled with astrange joy, and my pulse began to beat more rapidly, as each strideof my horse brought me nearer home. In short, I was a Roman come backto Rome, and in these words sum up my feelings.

  Filled with such thoughts, I tightened the reins half unconsciously,and my horse, doubtless upset by his voyage, and the hard going fromOstia, very willingly slackened his pace to a walk. Jacopo, as in dutybound, followed my example, and immediately began to buzz into speech.

  "It is nearly six years since I last saw that gate, excellency, whenwith Count Carlo Orsini we rode up, just as it was closed behindCesare Borgia."

  "That was when you left me for a time, on my taking service withVenice."

  "True, your worship; I had no mind for the galleys," and Jacoposhuddered at the recollection of his recent voyage. "My courage," hecontinued, "is firm enough on firm ground, but when the sea plays cupand ball with me, I have no soul to think of my own salvation, letalone fighting. _Ohime!_ But on that villainous craft we have left,there were times when I was only too anxious not to live."

  I smiled as I inquired, "And after your service with the Orsini wheredid you go?"

  "Well, your worship, no sooner did Count Carlo drive those scorpionsof the Colonna and Borgia back to Rome, than the Most Serene Republicmust needs step in and cause peace to be made. This threw me andsundry other honest fellows out of employment, and on to the edge ofstarvation, so we boldly rode into Rome, and changing from the bear tothe bull, tendered our services to the Borgia, and they were snappedup I can tell you. I was lucky enough to find a master in the Duke ofGandia."

  "Lucky, you call it."

  "Ay, your worship! for Giovanni Borgia had an open purse and a freehand. I was with him until he was murdered, and then, affairs beingwarm in Rome, and hearing you had come back from the sea, why, I cameback to the old banner."

  "It is said that Gandia was murdered by the Cardinal Ascanio Sforza."

  "Indeed no, your excellency! I saw the deed done. It was in this way:the Duke and his brother Cesare, then Cardinal of Valencia, supped atthe house of their mother, the Lady Vannozza. After supper they mustneeds walk home together; I was the Duke's sole attendant, but Cesarewas accompanied by his cut-throat Michelotto and half-a-dozen others.On the way some mention was made of Donna Sancia, Don Giuffre's wife,and the brothers came to blows. The Cardinal stabbed the Duke with hisown hand, and he gave a great cry and fell down dead. Seeing it was nouse trying to help a dead man, and being in no hurry to trouble St.Peter myself, I knocked down the strangler Michelotto, and making arun for it, escaped with a whole skin. The body of the Duke was flunginto the Tiber, and was discovered by a charcoal monger of theRipetta, whom Cesare hanged at Tor di Nona, as a reward for hisintelligence. They buried the Duke, as you know, signore, in SantaMaria del Popolo--poor man!"

  "And you mean to say that this was never known to the Pope?"

  "I never said anything about that, your worship; a secret cannot bekept by half-a-dozen, and I dare swear our Lord knows all about it orelse the Cardinal Ascanio would hardly be in the Cesarini as he is.These things, however, must not be spoken of in Rome. Men's tonguesshould be weighted with lead when the Borgia's name crops up."

  We had by this time come opposite the Monte Testaccio, that curiousmound made of old pottery, which lies towards the river, south-west ofthe Ostian Gate, and so engrossed were we in our talk, that we didnot observe a large party of riders of both sexes, with an escort ofmen-at-arms, coming at a hand gallop from our right, straight in ourdirection. Our attention was however sharply drawn to the fact by thecry of an equerry who was riding well in advance of the others, andthis man shouted:

  "The road! The road! Way for His Holiness! Way! Way!"

  We drew off at once to the side, Jacopo dismounting and sinking to hisknees. I however contented myself with uncovering, and watching withno little astonishment the party as they came up. They were evidentlyreturning from hawking, and at the head of the clump of riders weretwo men in full Turkish costume.

  "Who are those Turks?" I asked Jacopo, and the knave still kneeling,and holding his hands up in supplication, answered hurriedly--

  "One is the Soldan Djem, excellency--O Lord, I trust we may not behanged as an afternoon's amusement--the other, the fair one, oldAlexander VI. himself--O Lord! What cursed luck! Kneel, excellency; itis our only chance."

  "Tush!" I replied, and remembered at once that the brother of Bajazet,the Grand Turk, was a hostage in Rome, practically a prisoner in thehands of Alexander, a legacy he had inherited from the Cibo, and whichbrought him forty thousand ducats annually. I could understand Djem inEastern costume, but the Pope masquerading in broad delight as a Moor!It was as wonderful as it was disgusting to me. And then theremembrance of Corte's daughter came to my mind, and as theyapproached, I could hardly refrain from making a dash to rid the worldof the monster who sat in St. Peter's chair. I barely saluted as theypassed, but Jacopo roared out for a blessing, and the papal handairily cast a benediction at us. Alexander was apparently in a highgood-humour, for, turning in his saddle, he made some joking remark toa lady who rode a trifle behind him, whereat she laughed loudly, aharsh unmusical laugh, and glanced at me with a half-amused air, fromunder her heavy lashes as she went by. The rest of the party,spurring, laughing and chattering were a few yards behind; and as theyclattered on to the road, Djem, giving a wild shout of _Allah_!_Allah!_ threw the reins on the neck of his barb, and galloped throughthe gate at full speed, followed by Alexander and the rest of theriders, who urging their mounts to a racing pace, and, both men andwomen, yelling in imitation of the Moor, vanished through the gateafter him in a whirlwind of dust. So quickly did all this happen, thatI had hardly time to observe the faces of those who passed me, andindeed, so astonished was I, that I had scarce room in my mind for anyother feeling. I had of course heard wild tales of the Vatican, andstrange and horrible stories of the Borgia himself, indeed there wasone crime that should have brought down God's lightning on the man,for all that he was the Vicar of Christ; but I never for one momentconceived it possible that Alexander could so far forget his place asto appear in public robed as a heathen, and gallop through the streetsof Rome like a drunken madman.

  When they had gone, Jacopo arose from his knees, and dusting them withhis hands whilst he looked up at me, said: "_Corpo di Bacco!_ But Igave up all for lost. I vow a candle to St. Mary of--I forgetwhere--but to the shrine nearest to the place we dine, for this luckyescape."

  "Come, sirrah!" I said, a little annoyed, "mount. There never was anydanger."

  "Your excellency is pleased to say so," he replied, swinging himselfinto the saddle, "but if you saw two old men and a half-dozen oldwomen strung up for merely blocking the way, as I did at Tor di Nona,perhaps your worship would think as I do."

  I made no reply, allowing Jacopo the run of his tongue to relieve hisfeelings, and we went on slowly until we reached the gate. Here Ispoke, "As you know Rome better than I do, Jacopo, you had best leadthe way; but I want to pass by the two houses of my family before wemake for the Strangers' Quarters, where we
must find a lodging for thenight."

  "Very well, your worship!" and Jacopo drew a little to the front."There they go," he said, shading his eyes with his hands, and turningto the left, where a dun cloud of dust on the Via della Marmoratamarked the progress of the Borgia. "The best way, signore," hecontinued, "is over the hill; we will get a view from there, and thenpassing by the places you want to see, make for a quiet hostel I knowof in the Strangers' Quarters."

  Following him, we rode up the Aventine, until we reached the old wallof Servius Tullius, here we stopped to observe the view. To the westand south-west we could see the green of the Campagna merging into thedistant grey of the Roman Maremma, whilst beyond that a clear blueline, below the flush of the coming sunset, marked the sea. Beneath uslay the Tiber and the Island, the yellow water of the river stirredinto ripples by the breeze, and looking from the distance likehammered brass. Beyond the Tiber rose Monte Gianicolo, behind whichthe top of the Vatican Hill was just visible. To the north the viewwas a little shut in by the Palatine and the church of St. Priscaabove us, and far off rose the cone of Soratte. North-east and eastlay the Palatine, the Esquiline, with the campaniles of Santa MariaMaggiore and San Pietro in Vincoli. Over Monte Coelio we could see theheights of the Sabine Hills, and running our eyes along the AppianWay, we could almost descry the Alban Lake, the mountains beingdistinctly visible. We stayed for a few moments drinking in the view,and then going onwards, turned north-west, past St. Prisca, and beganthe descent, by a winding way, held in by vineyards. Coming down wecaught a glimpse of the three churches of the Aventine, namely S.Sabina, S. Maria Aventina, and St. Alessio, which was held by themonastery of St. Jerome, whose walls rose hard at hand. A look to theright showed us the Circus Maximus, above which towered a huge obelisksurrounded by four lions. At length we came to the Vicola di SanSabina, and at the corner of the street rose the grey walls and squaretower of the castle of the Savelli. I drew rein, and looked at it witha bitter heart, and a sigh I could not control escaped me, as I sawthe breeze catch and spread to the wind the silken folds of thestandard of the Chigi, who bore quartered on their shield the star ofthe Savelli and the tree of De la Rovere. It flaunted there, in allthe insolent pomp of a new house, whose moneybags were full, and thesight of it was enough for me. Jacopo must have caught the look on myface, for he said kindly--

  "Who knows, excellency--luck may turn."

  Well meant as the words were, they jarred on me, and without replyingI moved on, silently raising my sword to the salute, as I passed thegrim gates from which my ancestors held the road as far as the river,and almost held Rome itself.

  As we went past the Island, I did not even raise my head to see theTheatre of Marcellus, within which lay another and the oldest of ourfamily houses, having come to us through Pierleone towards the closeof the eleventh century.

  Jacopo was for going straight on past the monastery of the Aracoeli,on the Capitol; but unluckily I discovered that my horse had cast ashoe, and this was a matter not to be neglected. So we turned to theright, and entered the Campo Vaccino, formerly the Forum of Rome. Itbeing now sunset, here were collected hundreds of oxen and buffaloes,and from the height of Monte Caprino we could hear the bleating of theherds of goats which were pastured thereon, and the tinkling of theirbells as they moved slowly down towards their shelter for the night. Ahundred fires were blazing cheerfully, and served to dissipate theblue vapour which began to hang over the place. Round these fires weregroups of people, mostly countrymen, who seemed in the best ofspirits, as they listened to songs, or watched numbers of their party,who danced merrily to the tune of a pipe. Hard by were a number ofsheds, used by mechanics, and the blaze, which showed a forge in work,soon attracting our attention, we made there at once, and had thehorse attended to.

  Whilst the smith was beating out a shoe, I sat down on a rough bench,my horse being fastened to a wooden post, and Jacopo holding his nagby the bridle paced up and down, occasionally stamping his feet on theground to free them, as he said, from the ants. In other words he wassuffering slightly from cramp. To my right was a large crowd,evidently enjoying a show of jugglery, and from their cries ofwonderment and pleasure, they seemed to be having their money's worth.So I rose and elbowed my way to a good place, unfortunately only intime to see the end of the affair. The juggler was robed in a doctor'sgown, and after performing a trick, he distributed nostrums forvarious ailments, free of payment. Imagine my surprise, in recognisingin him no other than Mathew Corte; and as I came up, he placed atambourine in his little dog's mouth, and bade him carry it round forsubscriptions. Coppers were freely flung in, and as the little animalstopped before me, I dropped in a florin, and stooped to pat its head.As I rose I caught Corte's eye, and saw he knew me, but as he made nosign I stayed quiet. Collecting his money, the doctor bowed histhanks, and began packing up the instruments of his trade. I went backto my seat, and watched the smith at work on my horse, thinking thatCorte must have somehow come into funds, and wondering how he hadmanaged it. After a little time I felt a touch on my shoulder, andturning round saw him beside me. I invited him to a seat, inquiringafter his health.

  "It grows better day by day," he answered, "now that my work is begun.And you, signore?"

  "I can say the same," I answered; "I grow better day by day, now thatmy work is begun."

  "There is a favour I ask, Messer Donati," he went on.

  "What is it?"

  "It is this, and do not think me ungrateful. I am here playing a part.We will meet again, perhaps, under different surroundings. All I askis that if we do, you will make no sign of recognition, nor mention toanyone that you know me."

  "As you wish, Messer Corte."

  "A hundred thanks, and yet another thing--short reckonings make longfriends," and he pressed into my palm two gold pieces, the amount ofthe sum I had left with him the night his daughter died. I had nodesire to take them back, not knowing how Corte stood; but he assuredme he would be deeply offended if I did not, and that he was wellprovided with the sinews of war. Where he had got them I know not, andof course I had no option but to receive back the money I had givenhim, though I did this most unwillingly. When this was over, hepressed my hand once more, and, wishing me good night, hurried off.

  By this time the blacksmith had completed his task, and we delayed nolonger, but went off at once. It was fortunate that Jacopo knew Romeas he did, or we might have been hopelessly lost in the labyrinth ofstreets, some of them in total ruin, some of them entirelyuninhabited, for at the time so hideous was the misgovernment of thecity, that all who could do so had fled from Rome, and those whoremained could not have exceeded thirty thousand in number, of whom atleast ten thousand, men and women, were beings who had lost all claimto the respect of mankind, and were capable of almost any crime. Theseare hard words, but true, nor indeed have I ever seen a place whereall that was bad was so shamelessly exposed, as in Rome when RoderigoBorgia was Pope. At length we reached the Strangers' Quarters, butJacopo's hostel was not to be found, and after searching for it invain, we were content to pull up before the door of a small inn builton the lower slope of Monte Pincio, barely a bow-shot from S. Trinitade' Monte, the church erected by Charles of France in 1495, and alittle beyond the convent of the Dames du Sacre Coeur. I cannot saythat the hostel was an inviting-looking place; in fact it was littlebetter than one of the common _osterie_ or wineshops with which Romeabounded; but it was too late to pick and choose, and for the night atleast, I determined to stay here. Our first duty was to attend to thehorses, which we had stabled in stalls, immediately below the room tobe occupied by me, Jacopo having to put up with lodgings in thestables for the night. After the beasts had been fed and groomed, Iset myself to a plain dinner, washed down with the contents of astraw-covered _mezzo fiasco_ of Frascati. Jacopo waited on me, andwhen I was done, contentedly devoured the remainder of the _manzo_ orboiled beef, and cooled his throat with a bottle of Marino, which Ipresented to him. Whilst he was thus engaged, I went down and hadanother look at the horses, and as I pat
ted their necks, and theywhinnied at me, I thought regretfully of the good beast who lay deadon the Leghorn road, and wondered what had become of Brico, of whom,notwithstanding his villainy, I could hardly think of without smiling.It was in truth strange that a man, so arrant a poltroon at heart,should desert his natural occupation of a lackey, to play the bravo,and pose as a soldier. How he had ever even obtained the rank ofancient was a matter of surprise and wonder to me. At length Idismissed him from my mind, and coming back, found Jacopo at the endof his meal and his bottle. It was late enough now, and giving himwarning to sleep lightly, and to arouse me at once if necessity arose,for I liked not the look of the place, I climbed up the ladder leadingto the loft above the stables, which was to serve me as a chamber forthe night.