The Gadfly

by E. L. Voynich

  CHAPTER II.

  IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country folk had come in fromthe villages and hamlets of the district with their pigs and poultry,their dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain cattle. Themarket-place was thronged with a perpetually shifting crowd, laughing,joking, bargaining for dried figs, cheap cakes, and sunflower seeds. Thebrown, bare-footed children sprawled, face downward, on the pavement inthe hot sun, while their mothers sat under the trees with their basketsof butter and eggs.

  Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the people "Good-morning," wasat once surrounded by a clamourous throng of children, holding up forhis acceptance great bunches of irises and scarlet poppies and sweetwhite narcissus from the mountain slopes. His passion for wild flowerswas affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of the little follieswhich sit gracefully on very wise men. If anyone less universallybeloved had filled his house with weeds and grasses they would havelaughed at him; but the "blessed Cardinal" could afford a few harmlesseccentricities.

  "Well, Mariuccia," he said, stopping to pat one of the children on thehead; "you have grown since I saw you last. And how is the grandmother'srheumatism?"

  "She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but mother's bad now."

  "I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to come down here some day andsee whether Dr. Giordani can do anything for her. I will find somewhereto put her up; perhaps the change will do her good. You are lookingbetter, Luigi; how are your eyes?"

  He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers. He always rememberedthe names and ages of the children, their troubles and those of theirparents; and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic interest, for thehealth of the cow that fell sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll thatwas crushed under a cart-wheel last market-day.

  When he returned to the palace the marketing began. A lame man in a blueshirt, with a shock of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scaracross the left cheek, lounged up to one of the booths and, in very badItalian, asked for a drink of lemonade.

  "You're not from these parts," said the woman who poured it out,glancing up at him.

  "No. I come from Corsica."

  "Looking for work?"

  "Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a gentleman that has a farmnear Ravenna came across to Bastia the other day and told me there'splenty of work to be got there."

  "I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts."

  "They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk arecoming to."

  "Have you come over alone?"

  "No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!"

  Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in hispockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig whichhe had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, helooked his part to perfection.

  They sauntered through the market-place together, Michele whistlingbetween his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over hisshoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render his lamenessless observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom importantdirections had to be given.

  "There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner," Michele whisperedsuddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards thehorseman.

  "Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, sir?" he said, touching hisragged cap and running one finger along the bridle. It was the signalagreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been acountry squire's bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the horse'sneck.

  "What sort of work can you do, my man?"

  The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.

  "I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges"--he began; and without any breakin his voice, went straight on: "At one in the morning at the mouth ofthe round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall bewaiting inside the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----"

  "That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been outbefore?"

  "Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flyingsquadron. Don't go by the wood-path; you're safer on the other side. Ifyou meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire at once---- I shouldbe very glad of work, sir."

  "Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven'tgot any coppers to-day."

  A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonouswhine.

  "Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name of the Blessed Virgin------Get out of this place at once; there's a flying squadron comingalong----Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled--It's you they'reafter, Rivarez; they'll be here in two minutes---- And so may the saintsreward you---- You'll have to make a dash for it; there are spies at allthe corners. It's no use trying to slip away without being seen."

  Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand.

  "Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hidein the ravine. We're all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes."

  "No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, andfire after me in order. Move up towards our horses; there they are,tethered by the palace steps; and have your knives ready. We retreatfighting, and when I throw my cap down, cut the halters and jump everyman on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood that way."

  They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that even the nearestbystanders had not supposed their conversation to refer to anythingmore dangerous than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his own mare by thebridle, walked towards the tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching alongbeside him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched hand anda persistent whine. Michele came up whistling; the beggar had warned himin passing, and he quietly handed on the news to three countrymen whowere eating raw onions under a tree. They immediately rose and followedhim; and before anyone's notice had been attracted to them, the wholeseven were standing together by the steps of the palace, each man withone hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered horses within easyreach.

  "Don't betray yourselves till I move," the Gadfly said softly andclearly. "They may not recognize us. When I fire, then begin in order.Don't fire at the men; lame their horses--then they can't follow us.Three of you fire, while the other three reload. If anyone comes betweenyou and our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I throw down my cap,each man for himself; don't stop for anything."

  "Here they come," said Michele; and the Gadfly turned round, with an airof naive and stupid wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in theirbargaining.

  Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. They had greatdifficulty to get past the throng of people at all, and, but for thespies at the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators couldhave slipped quietly away while the attention of the crowd was fixedupon the soldiers. Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.

  "Couldn't we get away now?"

  "No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of them has recognized me. Hehas just sent a man to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance isto lame their horses."

  "Which is the spy?"

  "The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane tous; they are going to come with a rush."

  "Out of the way there!" shouted the captain. "In the name of HisHoliness!"

  The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers madea quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. TheGadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancingtroops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fellback with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after the report, six moreshots were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadilycloser to the tethered horses.

  One of the cavalry horses stumbled and plunged; another fell tothe ground with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking of thepanic-stricken people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer incommand, who had risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above hishead.


  "This way, men!"

  He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the Gadfly had fired againwith his deadly aim. A little stream of blood was trickling down thecaptain's uniform; but he steadied himself with a violent effort, and,clutching at his horse's mane, cried out fiercely:

  "Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!"

  "Another pistol, quick!" the Gadfly called to his men; "and go!"

  He flung down his cap. It was only just in time, for the swords of thenow infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him.

  "Put down your weapons, all of you!"

  Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between the combatants; and oneof the soldiers cried out in a voice sharp with terror:

  "Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!"

  Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced the Gadfly's pistol.

  Five of the conspirators were already on horseback and dashing up thehilly street. Marcone sprang on to the back of his mare. In the momentof riding away, he glanced back to see whether his leader was in need ofhelp. The roan was close at hand, and in another instant all would havebeen safe; but as the figure in the scarlet cassock stepped forward,the Gadfly suddenly wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down.The instant decided everything. Immediately he was surrounded and flungviolently to the ground, and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by ablow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone struck his mare's flankwith the stirrup; the hoofs of the cavalry horses were thundering up thehill behind him; and it would have been worse than useless to stay andbe taken too. Turning in the saddle as he galloped away, to fire a lastshot in the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly, with bloodon his face, trampled under the feet of horses and soldiers and spies;and heard the savage curses of the captors, the yells of triumph andrage.

  Montanelli did not notice what had happened; he had moved away from thesteps, and was trying to calm the terrified people. Presently, as hestooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement of the crowd made himlook up. The soldiers were crossing the square, dragging their prisonerafter them by the rope with which his hands were tied. His face waslivid with pain and exhaustion, and he panted fearfully for breath; buthe looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with white lips, and whispered:

  "I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence."

  *****

  Five days later Martini reached Forli. He had received from Gemma bypost a bundle of printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in caseof his being needed in any special emergency; and, remembering theconversation on the terrace, he guessed the truth at once. All throughthe journey he kept repeating to himself that there was no reason forsupposing anything to have happened to the Gadfly, and that it wasabsurd to attach any importance to the childish superstitions of sonervous and fanciful a person; but the more he reasoned with himselfagainst the idea, the more firmly did it take possession of his mind.

  "I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of course?" he said, as hecame into Gemma's room.

  "He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. He defended himselfdesperately and wounded the captain of the squadron and a spy."

  "Armed resistance; that's bad!"

  "It makes no difference; he was too deeply compromised already for apistol-shot more or less to affect his position much."

  "What do you think they are going to do with him?"

  She grew a shade paler even than before.

  "I think," she said; "that we must not wait to find out what they meanto do."

  "You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?"

  "We MUST."

  He turned away and began to whistle, with his hands behind his back.Gemma let him think undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her headagainst the back of the chair, and looking out into vague distance witha fixed and tragic absorption. When her face wore that expression, ithad a look of Durer's "Melancolia."

  "Have you seen him?" Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp.

  "No; he was to have met me here the next morning."

  "Yes, I remember. Where is he?"

  "In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, they say, in chains."

  He made a gesture of indifference.

  "Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains.If only he isn't wounded----"

  "He seems to have been slightly hurt, but exactly how much we don'tknow. I think you had better hear the account of it from Michelehimself; he was present at the arrest."

  "How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leaveRivarez in the lurch?"

  "It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody did, and followed thedirections given him to the letter. For that matter, so did they all.The only person who seems to have forgotten, or somehow made a mistakeat the last minute, is Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicableabout it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call Michele."

  She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and abroad-shouldered mountaineer.

  "This is Marco," she said. "You have heard of him; he is one of thesmugglers. He has just got here, and perhaps will be able to tell usmore. Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to you about. Willyou tell him what happened, as far as you saw it?"

  Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron.

  "I can't understand how it happened," he concluded. "Not one of us wouldhave left him if we had thought he would be taken; but his directionswere quite precise, and it never occurred to us, when he threw down hiscap, that he would wait to let them surround him. He was close besidethe roan--I saw him cut the tether--and I handed him a loaded pistolmyself before I mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that he missedhis footing,--being lame,--in trying to mount. But even then, he couldhave fired."

  "No, it wasn't that," Marcone interposed. "He didn't attempt to mount.I was the last one to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and Ilooked round to see whether he was safe. He would have got off clear ifit hadn't been for the Cardinal."

  "Ah!" Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement: "TheCardinal?"

  "Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol--confound him! I supposeRivarez must have been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and putthe other one up like this"--laying the back of his left wrist acrosshis eyes--"and of course they all rushed on him."

  "I can't make that out," said Michele. "It's not like Rivarez to losehis head at a crisis."

  "Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing an unarmed man,"Martini put in. Michele shrugged his shoulders.

  "Unarmed men shouldn't poke their noses into the middle of a fight.War is war. If Rivarez had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead ofletting himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd be one honest manthe more and one priest the less."

  He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near tobreaking down in tears.

  "Anyway," said Martini, "the thing's done, and there's no use wastingtime in discussing how it happened. The question now is how we're toarrange an escape for him. I suppose you're all willing to risk it?"

  Michele did not even condescend to answer the superfluous question,and the smuggler only remarked with a little laugh: "I'd shoot my ownbrother, if he weren't willing."

  "Very well, then---- First thing; have you got a plan of the fortress?"

  Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper.

  "I have made out all the plans. Here is the ground floor of thefortress; here are the upper and lower stories of the towers, and herethe plan of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to the valley,and here are the paths and hiding-places in the mountains, and theunderground passages."

  "Do you know which of the towers he is in?"

  "The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have markedit on the plan."

  "How did you get your information?"

  "From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier of the guard. He iscousin to one of our m
en--Gino."

  "You have been quick about it."

  "There's no time to lose. Gino went into Brisighella at once; and someof the plans we already had. That list of hiding-places was made byRivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting."

  "What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?"

  "That we have not been able to find out yet; the Cricket has only justcome to the place, and knows nothing about the other men."

  "We must find out from Gino what the Cricket himself is like. Isanything known of the government's intentions? Is Rivarez likely to betried in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?"

  "That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is the chief town of theLegation and by law cases of importance can be tried only there, in theTribunal of First Instance. But law doesn't count for much in the FourLegations; it depends on the personal fancy of anybody who happens to bein power."

  "They won't take him in to Ravenna," Michele interposed.

  "What makes you think so?"

  "I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military Governor at Brisighella,is uncle to the officer that Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive sort ofbrute and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy."

  "You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?"

  "I think he will try to get him hanged."

  Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was very pale, but her face hadnot changed at the words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.

  "He can hardly do that without some formality," she said quietly; "buthe might possibly get up a court-martial on some pretext or other, andjustify himself afterwards by saying that the peace of the town requiredit."

  "But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?"

  "He has no jurisdiction in military affairs."

  "No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not ventureon such a step without his consent?"

  "He'll never get that," Marcone interrupted. "Montanelli was alwaysagainst the military commissions, and everything of the kind. So longas they keep him in Brisighella nothing serious can happen; the Cardinalwill always take the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is theirtaking him to Ravenna. Once there, he's lost."

  "We shouldn't let him get there," said Michele. "We could manage arescue on the road; but to get him out of the fortress here is anothermatter."

  "I think," said Gemma; "that it would be quite useless to wait for thechance of his being transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt atBrisighella, and we have no time to lose. Cesare, you and I had bettergo over the plan of the fortress together, and see whether we canthink out anything. I have an idea in my head, but I can't get over onepoint."

  "Come, Marcone," said Michele, rising; "we will leave them to think outtheir scheme. I have to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I wantyou to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent those cartridges, and theyought to have been here yesterday."

  When the two men had gone, Martini went up to Gemma and silently heldout his hand. She let her fingers lie in his for a moment.

  "You were always a good friend, Cesare," she said at last; "and a verypresent help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans."