CHAPTER XXXV.
Again let us change the scene. There is another whose course we musttrace, from the fatal, the terrible moment when she parted fromLorenzo Visconti in Tuscany, to the death of Charles VIII. Ere we doso, however, it may be needful to notice a small incident whichaffected greatly her fate, without appearing to be in a direct mannerconnected with it.
In a magnificent room in one of those grand buildings, half palace,half fortress, with which Rome in those days abounded, sat C?sarBorgia and Ramiro d'Orco, on the very day on which Charles VIII. beganhis march from Lombardy to France. The cheek of Ramiro was less palethan usual, and there was a slight gathering together of the eyebrows,not to say a frown, which in an ordinary man might have signified verylittle, but in one who had so strong an habitual command over hisfeatures and over his emotions would indicate to those who knew himwell, an unusual degree of excitement. His voice was calm, however,his tone courteous, and from time to time a quiet smile belied theaspect of his brow.
"My lord," he said, "I must have some security. Not that I doubt yourEminence in the least. Heaven forbid! But all wise men like to havesome guarantee for anything that is promised to them, and are alwayswilling to give guarantees for that which they really intend toperform."
"I swear by my soul and my salvation," answered Borgia, "that if youwill aid me in this matter--aid me in its consummation--I will molesther in no shape. She shall be to me as sacred as a nun."
"I am sure your lordship is sincere," replied Ramiro, "but if oathswere to be accepted at all, I would prefer that you swore in somethingyou believe in, rather than by your soul and your salvation. Then asto your looking upon her as sacred as a nun, I have never heard thatyou regarded nuns as sacred at all. It is better we should understandeach other clearly. I find, during your pleasure tour in Tuscany, youentered the Villa Morelli, had very nearly caught and carried heroff, had she not been somewhat too light of foot for yourgentlemen-in-armour, and that you then set fire to the villa in orderto 'smoke her out,' as you expressed yourself. I have all theinformation, my lord, and although you are pleased to pass the matteroff as a wild caprice to gratify your soldiery with a few faircaptives, without any cognizance of her being in the villa, yet theanswers to the inquiries you caused to be made at Florence should havesatisfied you that she could be nowhere else. Now I believe I can aidyou to the very man you want; and, as you are somewhat impatient, cando it without delay; but I must, in the first place, have some strongplace put in my possession, where my daughter can be more safe thanshe was in the Villa Morella, until such time as her lover becomes herhusband, and she leaves Italy for a somewhat quieter land."
C?sar Borgia laughed low and quietly.
"Now what a strange thing is this that men call morality and virtue!"he exclaimed, with a bitter sneer. "Not the chameleon changes colourmore frequently, and more completely according to the things around.But we have no time for philosophical reflections, my dear Ramiro.Tell me, are these men near at hand?"
"They are here in Rome," replied Ramiro d'Orco. "In fact, my lord,being a man of no great wealth and no power, I judged it expedient incoming here in order to seek for both, to gather round me at timesserviceable men from various states of Italy, who might supply menwith a kind of authority tantamount to that which I did not possess.Your Eminence's people, it seems, fail you at this step, although, Godwot, I should have thought they had few scruples left by this time. Iam willing to aid you with mine, provided you insure me against somelittle frailties of your Eminence, which might lead to thingsdispleasing to me."
"Well, well, send the men to me," said C?sar Borgia; "it shall bedone."
"It must be done before they come here, my lord," replied Ramirod'Orco.
A flush passed over the young cardinal's countenance; but he said,starting up suddenly--
"Well, wait here till I return. I must get the donation from hisHoliness."
"Remember, I must have all rights and privileges--of high and lowjustice--of war and of defence, with only reservation of homage of theHoly See. I know not what it is exactly that your Eminence requiresthese men to do; but they have strong stomachs, and are not likely tobe nauseated by trifles."
"I doubt not they are by no means dainty," replied Borgia, and he leftthe room.
Ramiro d'Orco remained alone for more than an hour, during which hehardly moved his position. One sentence did escape his lips just afterC?sar Borgia left him. "This man is angry," he said, "and his anger isdangerous." What he thought afterward I know not; probably it was ofself-preservation, for he drew his dagger, and looked all along theblade, examining most carefully a small groove which extended from thehilt to the point, then sheathed it again, and seemed to fall intoquiet meditation.
At length, when it was well-nigh dark, the door opened again, and thecardinal re-entered with a parchment in his hand. His face was now allplacid and benign, and advancing toward Ramiro, he said, "I have beenlong, my friend; but if you knew how much I have had to do in oneshort hour, you would say I had been expeditious. There--that papergives you Imola and its dependencies, with all the rights andprivileges you require. It took me one half the time to persuade hisHoliness to grant it. Had he known to what it tended, he would havecut off his right hand ere he signed it."
"I thank your Eminence sincerely," replied Ramiro, taking theparchment; "mutual benefits bind men together. They must never be allon one side. Either I miscalculate my own powers, or you shall havethe worth of this gift in a few hours in services of the mostacceptable kind. Now let us know what you want done."
"I want a man removed from my path," said Borgia, abruptly; "one whoseshadow is too tall for me--who stands between me and the sun."
"That is easily done, my lord," replied Ramiro d'Orco, "there is sucha river as the Tiber, and men will fall in at times, especially whenthey are either drunk or badly wounded."
"You catch my meaning readily," replied Borgia. "It were done easily,as you say, Ramiro, were this a common case, but there are men uponwhom vulgar assassins would fear to try their steel."
"They must have faint hearts or poor brains," replied Ramiro. "A manis but a man, and a fisherman's life is as good to him as acardinal's. It is as valuable, too, in the eye of the law; and he whocan conceal one deed can conceal another. May I know at what quarryyou wish me to let loose the hounds?"
C?sar Borgia rose, and walked slowly up and down the room. There wassomething that moved him--that troubled him. What could it be?Remorse? No, he knew no remorse nor pity. The human heart willsometimes, in its dark recesses, conceive things so horrible, that,though it will retain and nourish them as its most cherishedoffspring, it will dread that any other eye should see them, and longto build around them, like the Cretan queen, a dark and intricateedifice, to hide them for ever from man's sight. It might be this thatmoved him. He had need of aid; he had need of instruments; he wasobliged to speak that which he fain would have had done but neveruttered. His beautiful countenance was overshadowed by the expressionof a demon--not a triumphant, but a suffering demon; his eyes werefixed upon vacancy, and his broad, tall forehead was covered with acold dew. At length he seated himself again close to Ramiro d'Orco,and in a voice low but distinct, said--
"My friend, whoever will attain great power must not sufferimpediments to be in his way. He must remove them, Ramiro. Nor mustone prejudice of man, one canting maxim of priests--not even of thosehabitual weaknesses which are implanted in us during childhood, andreared and nourished by women and servants, remain to stumble at. Who,think you, has most kept me from the light since I was born? Who,without striving, has won all the prizes in the games of life, andleft me nothing but the fragrance of his banquet?"
It was nearly dark, and they could hardly see each other's faces, sothat the paleness which spread over Ramiro d'Orco's face escaped theeyes of his companion. Ramiro answered nothing, and Borgia went on.
"When this mighty city was founded, two brothers, equal in power, laidit out and planned it. One was feeble as compare
d with the other, andthe stronger mind soon saw that there was not room for two. Had Remuslived, what had Rome been now? A village in a marsh. But his great andglorious brother knew well what course to take in founding a newdominion, and he took it. Nor is such conduct uncommon nowadays withthose who have strong hearts and seek great objects. Look at thatmighty people whom we poor fools fear and call infidels. Have we everseen, since the days of Rome's greatest glory, a more powerful,energetic, conquering race than the Saracens? Does the sultan, orcaliph, or whatever he may be, suffer his power to be shaken or hiscourse to be impeded by a weak horde of brothers? No, no. He sends outof the troubles of life those who are not gifted for life's mightycontests. Why, this man Bajazet has paid three hundred thousand ducatsfor the dead body of his brother Zizim, lest perchance he should someday trouble his repose. Shall I be more scrupulous when the Duke ofGandia builds up a wall between me and my right course? No, Ramiro,no! I am about to cast off these priestly robes, that only trammel me,to pursue the path which nature by a mistake opened him; to strive inarms and policy for the great designs of ambition; and I would havethe course cleared before me. Do you understand me now, Ramiro?"
"I think I do, my lord," replied Ramiro d'Orco; but Borgia went onwithout attending to him.
"A mistake of nature, did I say? a blunder--a gross blunder. Had I hadGandia's opportunities, should I have neglected them as he has done?What should I have been now? What would my friends have been? Thismiserable cardinalate, what does it give me? Not enough to reward ahorse-boy. Give me but room, and I will make sure to carve me aprincipality out of this land which will enable me to raise my name onhigh, and recompense all who serve me. I will so work the dissensionsof these States, that if I bring them all not under my heel, I willbind a sufficient number in a fasces to render my power unassailable.But I must have room, Ramiro, I must have room; and I must have itquickly. Between this hour and my father's death, who can say whattime will be allowed me? Yet all must be done within that space; andif I pause and hesitate at the first step, the precious moment willhave slipped by. Gandia must die, my friend. He bars my way, heextinguished my light. An accident made him my elder brother; we musthave some accident which shall leave me without one. Now, then, youknow all. Can you help me? How can you help me?"
"I am too old to help you with my own hand, my lord," replied Ramirod'Orco, "but I have those who can and will. You need not explain aughtto them. You need never name the man, but merely designate him byoutward signs. You know his haunts--his habits. Let them watch for himin some convenient place, and treat him as they would some gay gallantwho has raised the jealousy of some noble husband."
"But it must be done quickly, Ramiro," replied the other. "In a fewdays I must quit Rome for Naples, and I would have it finished beforeI go."
"That is easy too," replied Ramiro d'Orco. "You must learn where hemay be found. Give them but the hour and place, and they will spareyou all future trouble."
C?sar Borgia did not seem altogether satisfied. He sat silent, withhis eyes fixed upon the ground, gnawing his lower lip; and, after amoment's pause, passed apparently in intense thought, Ramiro added,
"There is but one way, my lord, in which this thing can be doneproperly and well. You shall see the men yourself; you can be eitherincognito or not, as you please: but deal with them separately. Fourwill be enough, for I know that each man I send you is equal to adozen common cut-throats. You have but to tell me where and when theyshall come to you, and I will have them there, one by one, with aquarter of an hour between their visits."
"You are, indeed, a good deviser, my friend Ramiro," replied Borgia,with a well-pleased look. "No witness to my conversation with either.They can meet and arrange their plans afterward, but that commits notme. As to incognito it is hardly possible and hardly needful. My faceis too well known in Rome, and my word better than any singlebravo's."
"When shall I send them, my lord?" asked Ramiro d'Orco.
"This night--this very night," answered Borgia, eagerly; "no time isto be lost. Such things should be hardly thought of ere they beexecuted. The deed should tread upon the heels of the determination."
"And here?" asked Ramiro.
"Ay, even here," replied Borgia. "Strange people come here sometimesmy Ramiro."
"Then I hasten to fulfil your lordship's will," replied his companion."Lay not your finger on my household gods, and you will find no one toserve you better. I have already given you some proof of it bythrowing such nets around my good cousin, the Cardinal Julian, thatall his enmity toward your father has proved impotent as yet. In thismatter you shall find that I can be serviceable too."
"As to your household gods or goddesses, dear Ramiro," replied Borgia,with a light laugh, "be under no fear. I was a fool about thatbusiness of the villa. I knew not that you would take the thing somuch to heart, for I am too wise to risk the loss of a strong friendfor a light love. You told me just now to swear by something Ibelieved in. I swear by my ambition, Ramiro, that I will never seekyour daughter, or trouble her again. May fortune never favour me if Ido! You will believe that oath, Ramiro?"
"It is the most binding your Eminence could take," replied d'Orco,drily; "and now I take my leave, for I believe with you, that if thisis to be done at all, it should be done at once. Yet one word more; asyou seek no incognito, I will send you a man who knows you already,and whom you know. He is better and more trusty than one of those Ithought of. He has been bred in a rare school for such operations.Buondoni of Milan was his tutor, and Ludovic the Moor the regent ofthe university where he studied."
"Ah! who is he?" asked Borgia, with a smile. "He should be a greatprofessor if he have any genius."
"Oh, he is a ripe scholar, and a man of much ability," answeredRamiro. "He knows the course of the jugular vein, and the exactposition of the heart, as if he were an anatomist. This is no otherthan our good friend, Friar Peter. He may come to you to-night withouthis robes on, but you will find Pierre Mardocchi as good a devil asany friar of them all. But we waste time, and again I take my leave."
What were the feelings of Ramiro d'Orco as he left the Borgia palacewould be difficult to say. He was a man of few scruples, and hardenedin that worst of all philosophies, which some even in our own day areso eager to teach, the main axiom of which is, that all men areequally bad, and bold crime is superior to timid vice by the greatelement of courage. It is hardly possible for a misanthropist to beanything but a villain. And yet, although he would not have shrunkfrom any ordinary crime, there was something in the calm determinationof Borgia to murder his own brother--ay, and even in the arguments hehad used to palliate, if not justify the act, which had sent the bloodback from his cheek and from his lips, and it seemed to stagnate for amoment.
But short consideration was needed to show him that there was but onecourse left for him to pursue with any chance of safety. The dangerousconfidence which C?sar Borgia had placed in him did not admit of anychoice but between death and crime. He must be an accomplice or hemust be an enemy; and to be C?sar Borgia's enemy, for any manunarmoured in mighty power, was to stand upon the brink of the grave.All remorse, all hesitation, therefore, were quickly done away. "Imust serve him well," he thought--"must help him to accomplish thedeed--must teach him he cannot do without me. Then his own interestwill make him my friend in acts, if not in heart."
Not three quarters of an hour had passed ere a friar presented himselfat the Borgia palace. He stayed some twenty minutes, and ere he leftanother man was admitted to the cardinal--a man of swaggering militaryair, who had lost one eye, apparently in fight. These two came forthtogether, crossed over to the other side of the street, and stoodthere conversing for some time under an archway. During the next halfhour, two others, each of whom had previously visited the Borgiapalace, were added to the group, and it must be admitted that fourmore consummate scoundrels have seldom been gathered together.
On the following night there was a great entertainment at the house ofRosa Vanozza, the mother of the Borgias, the concubi
ne of the pope.Guest after guest departed, some with lights to guide their steps,some apparently not so willing that the course they took should bemarked. There was a servant, richly dressed, who stood in the squareopposite the house, who scanned every group as it came out, and at thefarther corner of the square were three or four men, discussing, itwould seem, some knotty point with Italian vehemence of gesture.
Though apparently indifferent to everything but their ownconversation, the eyes of these men also ran over each group that camefrom the Casa Vanozza. All passed by, however, without their moving;the lights wound away through the narrow streets, and all becamedarkness in the square. The men then moved on towards the servant, whostill remained where he had been stationed before, as if intending topass him; but just at the moment they were doing so, he staggered somepaces with a groan, and fell upon the pavement. The men returned tothe spot where they had been previously standing.
A few minutes after, two gay-looking young cavaliers came forth fromVanozza's house, and walked partly across the square together at somedistance from where the dead man lay. One of them looked round,saying, "Where can my valet be? The dog has grown weary of waiting, Isuppose. Have you no servants with you, C?sar?"
"No," replied the other, "I have no fear of walking the streets ofRome alone--I am so beloved, you know, Gandia," and he added a shortbitter sort of a laugh.
"Well, I take this street to the right," said the Duke of Gandia. "Ihave some business down near San Jacomo."
"Good night," said the other. "I know where you are going, Gandia. Youcan't cheat me."
"Good-night, cardinal," replied the duke, laughing, and they parted.
The same night, a few hours afterward, a boatman upon the Tiber,watching a load of wood which he had landed near the church of St.Jerome, and lying apparently asleep in his boat, saw two men comeforth from the narrow alley which ran by the side of the church, andlook cautiously all round, up one street and down another, as if toinsure that all were free from passengers. Everything was still aboutthe city--no step was heard, no moving object seen--and the two menreturned to the alley whence they had issued forth.
Shortly after, four men appeared at the mouth of the alley, one ofwhom was on horseback, and all approached at a quick pace toward aspot on the banks of the Tiber not more than ten yards from the boatin which the man was watching. When they came near he perceived thatthe horseman had the corpse of a dead man behind him, flung carelesslyover the crupper, with the head and arms hanging over on one side, andthe feet and legs on the other. When near the river, the horsemanwheeled his horse and backed it to the brink. His companions then tookthe body from behind him, swung it to and fro several times to give itgreater impetus, and then cast it as far as they could into the Tiber.The horseman then turned and gazed upon the shining surface of theriver, upon which the moon was now pouring a flood of light.
"What is that black thing floating there?" he asked.
"It is his cloak," replied one of the others.
"Cast some stones upon it quick," said the horseman. His orders wereobeyed, and the cloak disappeared.
When the boatman, many days afterward, told his story, upon beingquestioned as to whether he had seen anything particular on the fatalWednesday night, he was asked with some surprise why he had not giveninformation at once. He answered that within the last few years he hadseen more than a hundred dead thrown into the Tiber, and had neverconsidered it any business of his.
On the following day Rome was startled with the intelligence that theDuke of Gandia, the pope's eldest son--the only one, indeed, whopossessed in any degree the love or respect of the people--wasmissing; and sinister rumours spread around.
But there was one man within the gates of Rome who knew the whole onthe Wednesday night. C?sar Borgia went not to bed when he returnedfrom his mother's entertainment; but, dismissing all his train torest, he waited for news of the events which he was well aware were tohappen. I might give a fanciful picture of the agitation of hismind--of the listening ear and the straining eye, and the pallidcheek, and the quivering lip--and it might have every appearance ofverisimilitude; for at that moment a brother was being murdered by hisorder. But it was not so. He sat upon velvet cushions, playing with asmall, silky-haired monkey. He seemed as thoughtless, careless, andsportive as the poor beast itself. For half an hour he amused himselfthus. He teased it, he irritated it, and then he soothed it. Again heteased it, and at length the monkey bit him, when, seizing it by thelegs, he dashed its head against the floor, and the poor beast laydead at his feet. He washed the blood from his hand with ahandkerchief, and stood gazing at the dead brute with a face thatbetokened no grief or regret. At length he kicked the body into acorner, murmuring, "People must not bite me."
People! Did he think that monkey was his brother?
The only time when he showed some degree of agitation was when morethan an hour and a half had elapsed since his return, and yet notidings arrived. "Can they have failed?" he said, in a low voice; "canthey have failed? Oh no, impossible!" and, sitting down again--for hehad risen while the momentary fear crossed his mind--he took up a bookand read some love songs of that day. Nearly another hour passed, andthen a step was heard upon the staircase. The next instant a friarentered the room, and silently closed the door behind him.
"It is done your Eminence," said the man, approaching Borgia, andspeaking low and quietly.
"What have you done with the body?" asked the cardinal.
"It is at the bottom of the Tiber," replied Mardocchi, "I am somewhatlate, for we had to drag him into Michelotto's house, near St.Jerome's, and we did not like to carry him to the river bank as longas a single soul could be seen moving in the streets."
"Right--right," said C?sar Borgia! "that might have been ruinous."
"Not an eye saw," said Mardocchi, "though he fought for a minute ortwo; for Michelotto missed his first blow, and it took nine wounds todispatch him. Some one must have given him three. I only gave himtwo, but they were good ones. One was between the throat and thebreast-bone; the other, which was the best, was in the middle of theleft side; that brought him down, and he never moved or spoke afterthat."
"You are a good and faithful fellow," replied Borgia, "and have boundyou to me for ever. You shall take away with you to-night the ducats Ipromised yourself and your companions; but that ring is for yourself,and engages you in my particular service."
Mardocchi took the ring and held it in his hand, apparentlyhesitating.
"I beg your Eminence to pardon me," he said, at length, "but I cannotquit the Lord Ramiro."
"Ha! do you love the good lord so much?" asked Borgia.
"No, your Eminence, I do not love him at all," replied the friar;"but--but--I have an object in staying with him."
"Speak out--speak out, Mardocchi," said C?sar Borgia; "you havenothing to fear from me, and if I can help you, I will."
"It is a long story, my lord," replied the friar; "but to tell you asshortly as may be. The signor's daughter, it seems, is to be marriedshortly to young Lorenzo Visconti. Now I have an old grudge againstthat young man. I have promised not to practise against his life, andI will keep my promise, for I always do; but I have not promised notto do him all the harm I can, for revenge I will have, and I can onlyhave it by staying with Ramiro d'Orco."
"That suits me well," replied C?sar Borgia. "You shall be my servant,Mardocchi, but not quit the good lord. You may remain with him, gowith him where he goes, serve him against all men except me; but youwill remember you are mine, and be ready to serve me at a moment'snotice. I need such men as you. You will receive a hundred ducats inthe year from my treasurer, and I count upon you for any service, evenshould it be against Ramiro himself."
"I trust I may count upon your Eminence's countenance too," saidMardocchi, "in case I should get into any trouble on this SignorVisconti's matters, for my revenge upon him I will have."
"You shall have my protection, and those whom I protect are tolerablysafe," said Borgia, rising and going
to a small beautiful cabinet thatstood in the room. "Here, take this bag of ducats; it is what Ipromised. Divide them equally with your companions, and say nothingabout the ring I have given you. Come to me to-morrow, and we willspeak further. I will now retire, and shall sleep better than I havedone for weeks."
Mardocchi took the heavy bag, and as he did so, C?sar Borgia saw thatthere was blood on the man's hand. It was his brother's blood; and thesight did for an instant touch his obdurate heart, which nothing elsehad reached. He did not sleep so well that night as he expected.
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