Leonora D'Orco: A Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  I am about to quote from another who knew well the facts he recorded.His name matters not, but the whole is a translation, upon my word."The king had remaining nine hundred men-at-arms, comprising hishousehold troops, two thousand five hundred Swiss, two thousand of theFrench infantry, and about fifteen hundred men fit to bear arms thatfollowed the army. These troops formed a body of nine thousandcombatants at the utmost, with whom he had to cross all Italy.

  "This small army was not yet out of Naples when Ferdinand had effectedhis landing on the coast of Calabria, at the head of some Spanishtroops. Charles began his march on the 20th day of May, not long afterhis coronation. He met with no impediment on his march to Rome, fromwhich city the pope had fled. He passed through it, strengthenedhimself by the reinforcements collected from various garrisons whichhe had left in the strong places of the ecclesiastical states, andsacked the small town of Toscanella, which refused to receive histroops."

  So far my author; but after quitting Rome, whither did Charles directhis march? First to Viterbo, thence to Sienna, and from Sienna toPisa. Was he bending his steps to Florence? Was the long-looked-forhour coming quick to Lorenzo Visconti? Poor youth! he could not tell.His heart beat when he thought of it. He formed eager and passionateplans--he dreamed dreams of joy. He would press Leonora to animmediate union; he would carry her with him to France; he would takeher to the sweet banks of the Loire, and in that old chateau he somuch loved he would see melt away at least some few of those brightdays of youth which God made for happiness. Oh! the cup and thelip--the cup and the lip! How short the span that will contain manyand momentous events!

  The army arrived at Pisa, and every one asked his neighbour what wasthe direction of the next day's march. No one could tell. The morningbroke, and no orders were given. The citizens of Pisa rejoiced,provided for the French soldiers as if they had been brothers,rivalled each other in showing kindness and courtesy, and lost nomeans in testifying that gratitude which they might well feel, or ofconciliating that friendship which had already proved so valuable.

  The King of France busied himself with their affairs, endeavoured tomoderate between them and the Florentines, and enjoyed all thepleasures of that city in the fairest period of the year; but thoughevery day increased his peril, he spoke not of the forward march, andnever hinted an intention of visiting Florence ere his departure fromItaly.

  At length Lorenzo could endure suspense no longer, and cravedpermission to absent himself for a few days.

  "They must be few indeed," said the king gravely. "If you can ridethither in one day and back in another, you can spend one day withyour sweet lady, my good cousin. On the fourth we march forward forPontremoli."

  The time was very short, but still a day--an hour with Leonora was aboon not to be neglected. It was night when Lorenzo received thepermission, and ere an hour was over he was on the way to Florencewith a small train. The air was clear and calm, the moon was shiningbrightly, near the full, and the ghost-like, dreamy beauty of thewhite marble buildings harmonized with the lights that fell upon them.Oh fair Pisa! city of beauty, of sorrow, and of crime! Standing in thystreets and remembering thy past history, one knows not whether toadmire, to grieve, or to abhor!

  The word was given, the gates were opened, and the train passed out,not numerous enough for any military expedition, yet comprising toomany men, and those too well armed, for any party of mere pleasure,except in days of war and peril. Then the country between Pisa andFlorence was regarded as peaceful, as those days were; but peace was amere name in the time I speak of, and it was well known that armedparties had ravaged the adjacent districts ever since the arrival ofthe King of France at Pisa.

  Yet how calm and tranquil was the sky, how soft and soothing the earlysummer air, how melodiously peaceful the song of the choristers of thenight, and even the voice of the cricket on the tree or the insects inthe grass! The eternal warfare of earth and all earth's denizensseemed stilled as if the universal knell awaited the coming day.

  Through scenes, oh, how fair! passed on Lorenzo and his train, twelvemounted men, fully equipped and armed, and half a dozen pages andservants, and as they rode, the same feelings--varied, but yet thesame--were in the bosom of both leader and followers; a weariness ofthe turmoil and ever-irritating watchfulness of war, a sense ofrelief, a blessed sensation of repose in the quiet night's ride, andthe peaceful moon, and sweet bird's song--a consciousness of calm,such as comes upon the seaman when the storm has blown out its fury,and the sky is clear, and the ocean smooth again.

  The rudest man in all the train felt it, and all were silent as theyrode, for few of them knew the sources of the emotions theyexperienced, fewer sought to analyse them, and only one was moved bypassions which rendered the scenes and circumstances through which hepassed accessories to the drama playing in his own heart. Lorenzo feltthem all, it is true, but it was feeling without perception. Themoonlight, and the trees, and the birds' song, and the glisteningmurmur of the river, all sank into his mind and became part of thedream in which he was living, and yet he remarked none of all thesethings distinctly, and gave every thought to Leonora.

  "She will come with me," he thought, "she will surely come with me.What matters it that the time is short? It is not as if we were themere acquaintances of a day. We have wandered half through Italytogether; she has rested in my arms, and pillowed her head upon mybosom. She will never refuse to come, though there be but one day fordecision and action. But then Mona Francesca, will she not oppose? Sheis one of those soft, considerate women of the world, who dressthemselves at the world's eye, and regulate every look by rule. Shecannot feel as we feel, and will think it easy for me to return a fewmonths hence and claim my bride with all due ceremony--a few months,and a few months! Why life might slip away, and Leonora never be mine.The present only is ours in this fleeting world of change, and we mustnot let it fly from us unimproved. Yet Mona Francesca will certainlyoppose. At all events, she will wish to consult some one, to shieldherself under the opinions of others from the world's comments. OnLeonora only can I rely, and on her must I rely alone. Here, Antonio,ride up beside me here: I wish to speak with you."

  The man rode up, and Lorenzo questioned him much and often. He askedif there were not a church near the villa, and what he knew, if heknew anything, of the priest.

  "There is a church some two miles off in the valley," said Antonio,"but I never saw the priest. The servants told me, however, he was asevere man, who exacted every due to the uttermost."

  That was not the man for Lorenzo's purpose; and he paused and waited,and then propounded other questions, to which he received answers notmuch more satisfactory. At length Antonio exclaimed, with a laugh,"Tell me, my lord, what is it you want with a priest, and it shall gohard but your poor Antonio will find means to gratify you. You cannotwant to confess, methinks, since you confessed last, or you must havesinned somewhat cunningly for me not to find you out."

  "See here, Antonio," replied Lorenzo; "I must be back on the day afterto-morrow at Pisa. Now, in a word, the Signora d'Orco must be mine ereI depart."

  "Oh, then, my lord, take her home with you," said Antonio, with somefeeling. "If your absence now has caused her such pain when you arebut lovers, think how she would pine, poor lady, if you were so longabsent from your wife."

  "Such is my intention, Antonio," answered Lorenzo. "When I meet heragain, I can part with her no more; but here is the difficulty: MonaFrancesca will oppose our hasty union. It must, therefore, be private.Once mine by the bonds of the Church, and with her father's fullconsent, which I have in writing, no opposition can avail. She is minebeyond all power to separate us--she is mine, and for ever. MonaFrancesca must perforce consent to her going with me to France, and,indeed, if she did not, her opposition would be vain."

  "I wish you had brought more men with you, my lord," replied Antonio,"but that is neither here nor there. As we have begun, so we must goon. Then, next, as to a priest, which is now, I suppose, theall-importa
nt question. First, we must find one who is willing; next,we must find one who is sure; and, thirdly, we must find one who isdexterous. Give me but two hours, and I think I can make sure of theman. When I was telling you all about the Villa Morelli, I mentionedthat there was a monastery just above, not a quarter of a mile up themountain. You did not take much notice of what I said, for you did notknow how serviceable it might be. Oh, my lord, you cannot imagine howuseful convents and monasteries are on various occasions, nor whatvarious sorts of men can be found within them. Now there are alwaysmany who have taken priest's orders, and in this monastery there isone, at least, qualified in every way to celebrate matrimony, oranything else you like. He is Madonna Francesca's director, andtherefore must be a holy and devout man."

  There was a slight touch of sarcasm in Antonio's tone, but that didnot prevent Lorenzo from presenting the very reasonable objection thathe was the last man who ought to be asked to perform the marriageceremony of Mona Francesca's temporary ward without her knowledge andconsent.

  "My good lord is not much acquainted with priests and friars," saidAntonio; "but just as certain as Monseigneur Breconnel steals theking's money just when his Majesty has most need of it himself, sowill Fra Benevole marry you to the signora, and help to keep MadonnaFrancesca quiet and ignorant till all is over. Why, I have drunk morethan one bottle with him; and for a sufficient sum--for the benefit ofthe monastery--always for the benefit of the monastery, you know--hewill either give Mona Francesca such a penance for all the sins shehas even wished to commit as will keep her in her own chamber all day,or he will drug her little cup of vino di Monte Capello, which shetakes every morning, so as to make her sleep for four-and-twentyhours, or he will poison her outright and save you all further troubleabout her, just as your lordship likes," and Antonio touched his capwith solemn irony.

  "The two latter alternatives are rather too strong for my taste,Antonio," replied Lorenzo, "but the first will do well enough, if youcan depend upon your boon companion."

  "We can make him reliable, sir," said Antonio; "that depends entirelyupon the ducats. Faith is a very good thing when it is of the rightsort; but the only faith that is good is faith in God and the blessedVirgin. Faith in man must be tied with gold, and then it may holdfast. What am I to promise him if he perform the marriage ceremony, inthe chapel of the villa, between you and the signorina some timeto-morrow, and contrive the means?"

  "Why, Cynic, he will demand the money in hand," said his young master."Why should he trust to your faith if you will not trust to his?"

  "We will both trust half way, my lord," replied Antonio, "and then itwill be the interest of neither to deceive the other. If you please,we will give him half the money for his promise, and the other halfafter his performance. He shall have one moiety when he says he willdo it; and the other when he gives you, under his own hand, thecertificate of the marriage. What do you think he ought to have?"

  "Whatever he asks," replied Lorenzo; "a couple of hundred ducats."

  "Oh! the extravagance of youth!" exclaimed Antonio; "he would poniardhis own father for a quarter of that sum. If I understand you right, Iam to offer him anything he seeks under two hundred ducats."

  "Nay, I placed not that limit absolutely, my good friend," answeredthe youth; "the truth is, Antonio, this marriage must take place atonce. I will not leave my Leonora again, and now she can only go withme as my wife. Whatever he asks he must have. I have about fivehundred ducats with me, and he can surely trust my word for more,should it be necessary."

  "Heaven forgive us!" exclaimed Antonio; "you are almost blasphemous,sir, to suppose that a priest of the Catholic Church would set such aprice upon matrimony when he charges so little for any other sin youplease to mention. I will arrange the matter for you easily, now Iknow how far you will go. You have no mind, perhaps, to have anycardinal assassinated, or any rich lord put out of the way, for I daresay I could get it done gratis, as a sort of make-weight, when yourlordship is so liberal about matrimony! But look upon that matter asall arranged. You have nothing to do but prepare the lady and obtainher consent, and I will let you know, within four hours after wearrive, the when, and the where, and the how."

  "You have but a sad opinion of the clergy of your own country, my goodAntonio," said Lorenzo, with a mind greatly relieved by hiscompanion's promises.

  "On my life, it is not of the clergy alone I have such a favourableopinion," replied Antonio, laughing; "from prince to peasant it is allthe same thing, only the clergy have the best opportunities. Look atour friend Ludovic of Milan; look at your friend Cardinal C?sar; pope,prince, lawyer, doctor, friar, it is all the same thing. We have gotinto a few trifling bad habits here in Italy, what between Guelphs andGhibelines, popes and emperors. Those who dare not draw a sword,unsheath a dagger; and those who wish not to spill blood, becausepeople say it leaves a mark behind it, use poison, which leaves none.Buondoni, who came near killing you, was, I do believe, one of thebest of all the rascals in Italy. He was always ready to peril his ownlife, and rather preferred it. Why, he could have had you put out ofthe way by something dropped into a cup of wine or scattered on abunch of grapes for half a sequin."

  "What! in the Villa Rovera?" asked Lorenzo, in a tone of doubt.

  "It might have been difficult there, it is true," replied Antonio,"and perhaps Ludovic was in a hurry; otherwise he would have had itperformed, as they call it, anywhere on your journey, for less than itcost Buondoni to feed his horses on the road to Milan. Death is cheaphere, my lord. But let us talk of business again. I had better lightenyour purse at once of a hundred ducats, that I may be prepared when wearrive to go to early mass, which I can do safely, as I have nothingon my conscience but a small trifle of matrimony, which we are told isa holy state."

  Lorenzo not only gave him readily the money he required, but wouldfain have pressed more upon him, for he was fearful even of the leastimpediment occurring to frustrate or delay the execution of his plan.

  Throughout the livelong night he and Antonio continued to discussevery part and particular of the scheme they had devised; not, indeed,that there was anything more of importance to be said, but Lorenzoloved to dwell upon details which gave rise to happy thoughts, andAntonio had an amiable toleration for his master's passion.

  Day dawned at length, and found the party of horsemen some five milesfrom the city of Florence; but their course was no longer to bepursued in that direction. Under the guidance of Antonio, they leftthe broad highway between Pisa and Florence, and began to ascend by anarrower and steeper path toward the villa they were seeking. Itwas a wild and somewhat savage region through which they nowpassed--beautiful, indeed, but stern in its beauty.

  The sides of the Apennines in those days were covered with denseforests, which, long after, were cut down to take away their shelterfrom the robbers which infested them; and the oaks and chestnuts hadeven in some places encroached upon the road. In other spots, however,large masses of rock appeared; and in others, again, the path, havingbeen cut along the side of the hill, displayed a grand view over thewide and beautiful valley of the Arno and the surrounding country. Atthe first of these gaps, where the open landscape presented itself,neither Lorenzo nor Antonio looked toward it, for both had matter ofthought within which made them somewhat indifferent to externalobjects. They might have even passed the second and third withoutnotice, but one of the soldiers who followed exclaimed, "That is agood large body of men, my lord."

  "Ha!" cried Lorenzo, immediately turning his eyes to the open country."Indeed it is, Parisot. There must be full five hundred spears."

  "More than that, sir," replied the man; "but they are not coming ourway."

  "Nor going to Florence, either," remarked Antonio. "They are noFlorentine troops, Monsieur Parisot."

  "I do not know what they are," said the soldier, "but I know what theyare not. They are not French troops, or you would see them in betterorder. Why, they are riding along like a flock of Sarcelles."

  "Ay, I see," said Antonio; "not half
the regularity of a flock of wildgeese."

  "Don't you think, my lord," continued Parisot, without remarkingAntonio's quiet sneer at his boast of his countrymen's military array,"don't you think they look like one of those irregular bands which wesometimes saw in the Roman States? people said they were kept up byCardinal Borgia. They go flying about just in the same way, shiftingfrom flank to rear--now in line, now in hedge, and now in no order atall."

  "They do look like them," said Lorenzo; "but I should hardly think thecardinal would venture his men so far as this."

  "Oh, my lord, you cannot tell how far he will venture," said Antonio,"especially when he is only taking the dues of the Church. He and hisholy father have a right to tithes, and those bands are merely sentout to collect a tenth of all the property in Italy. But what are theydoing now? Some twenty of them have gone to that pretty little villato get a draught of water, I warrant."

  "Well, let us pass on," said Lorenzo; "they do not see us up here, orthey might prove troublesome fellow-travellers."

  But before he could move on beyond the break in the trees from whichhe had been observing the cavalry in the valley below, a thin whitesmoke rose up from the villa, and the detachment which had ridden upto it was seen retreating towards the main body of their comrades, whohad paused upon the high road. The next moment a flash of flamemingled with the smoke, and then, from two of the windows, lines offire were seen to extend along a verandah, probably of wood, which ranround three sides of the house. Another moment, and all was in flames,while indistinctly were seen several persons, apparently women, in thehands of the brutal soldiery.

  Lorenzo shut his teeth close and rode on. He uttered not a word aloud,but he thought, "Oh that I had supreme power over this beautiful land,if but for a brief space of time, I would be a tyrant for the people'sgood--remorseless, cruel to all such fiends as these. But I would stopthe crimes that make a hell of a paradise, or die."

  The ascent seemed very long. Oh, how long the last portion of anyjourney seems when we are hastening to those we love! "Is it muchfarther, Antonio? is it much farther?" asked Lorenzo, repeatedly.

  "Only a mile, my lord--only half a mile," replied the man. But themile seemed a day's journey, the half mile a league.

  At length the joyful words were heard, "We turn off here, signor." Butstill the chestnut woods hid the villa from sight; and though Lorenzonow pushed on his jaded horse fast along the more level ground theyhad reached, some more slow moments passed ere he came upon thesmooth, free turf-ground, bedizened with flowers, which Antonio haddescribed at the approach to the villa. It opened out at a turn of theroad very suddenly, and the young knight was upon it ere he was aware.But in an instant he reined in his horse, and was still gazing forwardwith a look of dismay and anguish when his men came up.

  There indeed stood the Villa Morelli--at least what was left of it.There were the old towers firm and perfect externally, though thewindows were cracked and broken; but the more modern edifice which wasturned towards the west for the purpose of catching the full influenceof the most beautiful hour of Italy, with its light gracefularchitecture, its richly-ornamented windows, and fairy colonnade,where was it?

  Parts still stood shattered and toppling over, as if about to fall thenext moment; part lay in fragments upon the terrace, and part hadfallen inward, crushing the luxurious halls and splendidly-furnishedchambers, while here and there a wandering wreath of smoke, and even acreeping line of fire among scorched and broken beams, told by whatagency the ruin had been produced.

  Old men hardened in the petrifying experience of the world, and men ofiron souls created and fashioned for the sterner things of life, maybe brought suddenly into the presence of such scenes, may even havepersonal interest in them, without feeling more than a vague generalsense of disgust and horror at those who have produced them, and thesorrow which is natural to the human mind in seeing fair thingsblighted, either by gradual decay or sudden accident. But LorenzoVisconti was not one of those. There was a certain degree offirmness--even perhaps sternness in his character, it is true; but hewas full of emotions, and sensitive, and very young.

  There had dwelt his young bride when last he heard of her; there hehad every reason to believe she had been dwelling peacefully within afew short hours. Is it wonderful that, besides all the terrible fearswhich rushed in an indistinct crowd through his head, a thousand wildthoughts should crowd upon his brain and seem to paralyse itsfunctions.

  Where was she now? What had become of her? Had she been carried off bythe baud of ruthless marauders he had seen below? Was she buried inthose dreadful ruins? These and a thousand other fearful questionswere flooding his mind like the waves of a sea stirred by a hurricane.

  All paused in awe-struck silence for a moment, and then Lorenzo struckhis horse with the spur, and dashed on up the terrace even among thestill hot fragments. "Ho! is there any one here?" he cried--"is thereany one here? For the love of God, answer if there be! Ride round tothe back, Antonio. Parisot, take that other way to the left. See ifyou can find any to answer. But be quick--be quick! there is no timeto spare."

  "But what would you do, my lord?" asked Antonio, in a sad tone.

  "Pursue the villains to the gates of hell!" cried Lorenzo. "I will, Itell you! quick!"

  More than once Lorenzo repeated the shout, "Ho! is there any onethere?" while the men were absent, and sometimes he would think ofsending some of the men down to a small peasant-house he saw abouthalf a mile below, and then he would remember that he might need themall at a moment's notice; and often would he mutter words to himself,such as "They dare not resist a French pennon. What if they do? Thendie. Better to die a thousand times than live to think of her in theirhands."

  The few minutes the men were absent passed thus as if in a dream; butat length Antonio re-appeared, bringing a man with him pressed tightlyby the arm. It was a peasant of the middle age, who seemed somewhatunwilling to come where he was led, and was evidently afraid; but, ifone might judge from the expression of his face, the dull, heavy lookof despair, there was sorrow mingled with his fear.

  "You need not hold me so hard, signor," he said, in the rich butsomewhat rough Tuscan tongue; "I will come. I only ran from youbecause I thought you were a party of the band."

  "Here!" cried Lorenzo, springing up to meet them; "tell me who hasdone this. What of the ladies who were here? Where are they? What hasbecome of them? Speak, man, quick! I am half mad."

  "Oh, signor, if you had seen your daughter carried away by ruffiansyou might be whole mad," answered the peasant, and his eyes gushedforth with tears.

  "I am sorry for you from my heart," replied Lorenzo, in an alteredtone; "yet, my good friend, give me any information in your power. Mybride may be where your daughter is, and if so I will pursue them."

  The man gave a hopeless, nay, almost a contemptuous look at thehandful of men which followed the young lord.

  "Never mind," said Lorenzo, well understanding what he meant; "onlytell me what you know, and leave the rest to me."

  "All I know is very little, signor," replied the man. "A little beforedaybreak, when it was just grey, I heard a great many horses go by myhouse yonder, coming this way, and, thinking it strange, I got up andlooked after them. I then saw it was a great band of armed men. Myheart misgave me, for my poor Judita was up here helping the people atthe villa. As fast as I could I crept through the vines; but of coursethey were a long way before me, and I found that the way to the villawas guarded. I know not how long I stayed, for if it had been but aminute it would have seemed an hour, but I saw after awhile a brightlight in the windows of that big old tower, and then the windows ofthe great new hall were all in a blaze. Everything had been silenttill then--at least I could not hear anything where I lay hid by thatbig stone, covered with the old uva Sant Angelica--but just whenthe glare came in the windows, there were sounds made themselvesheard--cries, and shrieks, and such noises as make men's hair stand onend. Then a whole party came hurrying out, with a fine, handsome manat their
head--and he was laughing, too--who said to the first ofthose that followed, 'Put them on the horses and away. You are surethat fire has taken everywhere.' What the other answered I do notknow, for just then I caught sight of the women they were draggingout."

  "Who were they?" said Lorenzo, eagerly. "It must have been day by thattime. You must have seen their faces."

  "I saw no one but my daughter, signor," said the poor man, simply; andafter a pause, he added, "and she was soon out of sight for ever. Herbody will be in the Arno or the Mugnione to-morrow, and we shall bechildless."

  Lorenzo's head drooped, and for some moments he kept silence. Therewas an intensity of grief in the poor parent's tone which awed evenhis grief.

  "Could you distinguish any of these men," he asked at length, "so asto know them again?"

  "I saw nothing very clearly," replied the other--"nothing but Judita;only I know that one of the men called the other 'Monsignore.' Helooked to me more like a devil than a cardinal, and yet he was ahandsome man too."

  "My lord, you can see the band from here," said one of Lorenzo'stroop; they are taking the Pisa road. "They will fall in with ouroutposts, if they do not mind."

  "Well, they must be followed, and, if possible, cut off," replied hislord, who had now recovered some presence of mind. "If they take theirway toward Pisa we shall have them."

  "Your pardon, my lord," said Antonio, "but will it not be better to goup to the monastery, and make inquiries there? Depend upon it, thegood fathers did not stand looking on at the burning of the villawithout marking all, if they did not do all they could. They had nodaughters in the villa, and saw more than this poor man, depend uponit. Five minutes will take you thither. You can see one of the towersup yonder, just above the tree-tops."

  "Well bethought," replied his lord; "we may, indeed, hear tidingsthere. But we must not lose sight of the enemy. Parisot, ride on tothe verge of the rocks there. You can see them thence for ten miles,at least, I should think. Keep good watch upon them. All the rest stayhere. I will be back speedily;" and, so saying, with Antonio for aguide, he rode on.