CHAPTER XLV.
It was a bright and sunshiny morning--considering the season of theyear, more summer-like and warm than usual--and Leonora d'Orco sat inher beautiful little garden without covering for her head, and withher rich black hair in less trim array than usual, falling over herlovely neck and shoulders. Her eyes were fixed upon the fountain inits marble basin just before her, and there was something calm butmelancholy in their gaze. She watched the water as it sprung boundingup, and then fell again in glittering drops, and presently the long,jetty eyelashes overflowed with tears.
"Poor unhappy girl!" she murmured: "the fountain of bright life isdried up for her--the gay and sparkling drops all spent. OhEloise--poor Eloise!"
One of her maids came out and stood by her side; but Leonora did notnotice her, although the girl seemed anxious to tell her something.Her lady turned away her eyes. Below, at the distance of about half amile, lay the city, with its dark walls and citadel strongly markedout in the clear light, and she saw a horseman riding up at headlongspeed.
"Who is that coming, Carlotta?" asked Leonora. "It is not my fathersurely."
"Oh, no, signora," replied the girl. "It looks like the maestro. Hewill speak to you of what I was going to tell you."
"What were you going to tell?" asked Leonora with sudden eagerness.
"Oh! bad news, signora--nothing but bad news now," replied the girl:"they say--I don't know how true it is, but Marco told me--they saythat the lord prefect was arrested last night by the Signor Ramiro'sorder, for poisoning his lady."
Leonora started up with a face as pale as death; but, after gazing onthe girl for a moment with a wild look, she seated herself again andput her hand to her head.
Two minutes had hardly passed ere Leonardo was seen hurrying along theterrace, and the next moment he took her hand and kissed it.
"Pardon, dear lady, pardon my abruptness; but I have no time to lose."
"Speak! speak!" cried Leonardo, in a low but firm tone. "Let me hearall and quickly."
"The trial is over," said Leonora. "Your father would not preside; buthis creatures have condemned him. No time was allowed to summon otherwitnesses. Some poison, concealed in the case of a portrait known tobe Lorenzo's, was found in the unhappy lady's chamber; a girl calledGiovanetta testified that her mistress and Friar Peter both toldher that two papers--one of which she tried upon a dog who diedinstantly, and the other which her mistress took--were given to thecountess by her husband. Some other small circumstances of suspicionappeared, and on this he was condemned, although there were numerousinconsistencies. He is innocent, believe me; but in two hours he willbe done to death before the south gate, unless your father can bepersuaded to respite him. There are many in the town that are sure ofhis innocence, but too few I fear--
"He is innocent! he is innocent!" cried Leonora, with her browburning, and her cheek pale. "He is innocent as a babe. I will godown--I will return with you--I will see my father--I will save him ordie with him."
"But, lady, they will let no one enter the town," said Leonardo; "theyhave trebled the sentries at the gates. All may come forth who will,but no one can return. So they told me as I passed; and, unless youhave the key of the postern, as you once had, I fear--"
"I have--I have," said Leonora; "stay but one moment."
She flew into the house and was but an instant gone. Leonardo saw herhide something like a small vial in her bosom, but the large key wasin her hand; and merely beckoning him to follow, she ran down thesteps of the terrace, and through the garden toward the gate. Leonardofollowed rapidly, merely saying to the girl----
"Send down my horse to the gate."
Leonora was at the postern first, however, but her hands so trembledshe could not put the key in the lock. The painter took it from her,opened the little gate, and, passing in, she sped on towards thecitadel. She did not observe that Leonardo was no longer with her;but, with frantic speed, and hair escaped from all its bindings, shesped on through the almost deserted streets till she reached the gatesof the citadel.
"Where is my father?" she cried; "where is the Lord of Imola?"
"Why, lady," replied a man standing beside the sentinel, "he is nothere; he is in the bishop's piazza, waiting till the execution isover. This is a terrible day, and will bring ruin on the city, I cansee."
But ere his last words were uttered, Leonora was gone.
Ramiro d'Orco truly stood in the square before the bishop's palace,which was not two hundred yards from the south gate. His arms werecrossed upon his chest; his head was held high, his brow contracted;his jaws so firmly set, that when he spoke, in answer to any of thelords and officers who surrounded him, the sounds issued from betweenhis teeth, and his lips were hardly seen to move.
"Do you not think, my lord, this is very dangerous," said one; "do youremember he is the prefect?"
"He himself decided yesterday at this very hour, that no rank canshield a murderer from death," replied Ramiro d'Orco.
"He made no defence," said another, "but denied the competence of yourcourt, declared the charge a lie, and appealed to the Pope and theKing of France."
"He himself pronounced my court competent to all high justice,yesterday," said Ramiro, drily. "Let him appeal. When his head is off,they cannot put it on again. No more of this. He dies, if I live."
A short pause ensued, and then a man was seen running rapidly up thestreet which led toward the south gate.
"Who is this?" asked Ramiro d'Orco. "They have not called noon fromthe belfry yet, have they?"
"No, my lord," answered a young priest; "it wants half an hour ofnoon. But they have taken the prisoner down to the gate," he added,well comprehending what was going on in the heart of his lord. "I sawthem pass as I came up a minute ago. But what has this fellow got inhis arms?"
"He is one of the guards from the gates," said another; "and, by mylife, I think they must have anticipated the hour, for that is a man'shead he is carrying."
"No great evil," murmured Ramiro d'Orco; but a moment after a soldierreached the spot where they stood, and laid a bloody head at Ramiro'sfeet. All, however, remarked that the hair was somewhat grey, and thecrown shaved.
"A pennon of horse from his Highness the Duke of Valentinois is at thegate, my lord, seeking admission," said the messenger, almostbreathless. "We did not admit them, as your lordship had ordered thegates not to be opened; but the leader threw this head in through thewicket, saying that the duke had sent it to you for the love he bearsyou. It is Friar Peter's head, my lord; do you not see? and theofficer says he confessed last night having poisoned the CountessVisconti. What are we to do?"
A murmur of horror ran through the little crowd around, and a look ofrelief and satisfaction at the timely intervention spread over almostevery countenance except that of Ramiro d'Orco, whose brow hadgathered into a deeper frown than ever.
"What are we to do with the lord prefect?" asked the man again.
"Hence, meddling fool!" exclaimed Ramiro d'Orco, stamping his footupon the ground. "Strike off his head! The sentence of my court shallnot be reversed. Strike off his head, I say! Wait no longer--'twill benoon ere you reach the gate again. Away! Then open the gates. But markme, no delay, as you value your own life! Go fast, sirrah! Have yourfeet no strength?"
The soldier ran down the street in haste, and Ramiro turned his eyesfrom the pained and anxious countenances around him; but it was onlyto meet a sight that affected him still more.
"Oh! I would have been spared this!" he cried, as Leonora rushedtoward him and cast herself at his feet.
"My lord--my father!" she exclaimed, stretching out her hands towardshim, "spare him! spare him! He is innocent--you know he is innocent!Lose not a moment--send down the pardon--some gentleman run down. Hepardons him. Be quick! oh be quick!"
"Hold, on your lives!" cried Ramiro d'Orco, in a voice of thunder."Hence, girl. Take her away--some one take her away. He dies, if Ilive!"
"Then hear, Ramiro d'Orco!" cried Leonora, "send me to the blockins
tead of him. I poisoned her more surely than he did. See, here isthe poison. I am ready; take me to the block! I confess the crime.But hear me, lords and gentlemen all: Lorenzo Visconti isinnocent--innocent of the death of his poor wife--innocent of theneglect and insult my father thinks he offered me, and for which, intruth, he does him to death; innocent of all offence, as this hardparent will find when we are both in our still graves."
"Ha! what is that?" exclaimed her father, gazing at her; "sheraves--take her away!"
"I rave not. It is all true," cried Leonora; "so help me God, as hehas explained all. Will you send the pardon now? Oh, speak! speak!"
"It is too late," said Ramiro, in a low and gloomy tone, pointing withhis hand down the street.
Leonora turned and gazed, with her eyes almost starting from her head.Four men were carrying a bier with something stretched upon it, and acloak thrown over all. Leonora sprung upon her feet, uttered a shriekthat rung through the whole square, and then fell senseless on theground.
A brief lapse of forgetfulness came to that wrung and agonized heart,and then she opened her eyes, but she closed them quickly again. Shefancied she was in a dream. What was it she thought she saw? The faceof Lorenzo Visconti bending over her; French soldiers all armed; thebanners of the Church mingled with others she knew not. Oh, it was adream--a deceitful dream!
"Let me take her, Lorenzo," said a voice she had not heard for years;"joy kills as well as sorrow. Leonora--cousin Leonora, it is De Vitry:wake up--wake up. Things are not so bad as they seemed. It was thecorpse of a murdering villain you saw, justly condemned to deathyesterday at this hour. Visconti is safe."
Leonora opened her eyes again, and found herself in the arms of DeVitry. She gazed anxiously round. There stood Lorenzo with his headuncovered, and his upper garment off; and a smile, like that of anangel, came upon her lips; but when he advanced a step towards her,she shrunk back in De Vitry's arms, murmuring, "Take me to my father!Oh! where is my father?" and, covering her eyes with her hands, shewept profusely.
"A litter is coming speedily from the inn there," said Leonardo daVinci; "let me escort her, my lord. You have other matters to attendto just now, and she will be well in privacy for a time. Here comesAntonio with a litter."
De Vitry lifted her in his stalwart arms, and placed her, as tenderlyas if she had been an infant, in the sort of covered bier thencommonly used in Italy by ladies too feeble or too timid to travel onhorseback. Leonardo drew the curtains round; but, leaning his handupon the woodwork, he walked on by her side, while four stout bearerscarried her on toward the gate leading to the villa. Twice Leonoradrew back the curtain and looked out. Once she asked, "Where is myfather? Is this all true, signor maestro, or am I dreaming still?"
"Your father is at the citadel waiting for the French and Romanlords," replied Leonardo. "All is real, my child, and happy is it thatit is so; for both Antonio and I had nearly been too late. The numberof men we could introduce last night was too small; and, had you notleft the postern key in my hands, the Lord of Vitry and the Frenchforces could hardly have entered ere the axe had fallen."
Leonora shuddered and let fall the curtain; but after a moment or twoshe looked out again on the other side, saying--
"Oh! good Antonio, is that you? Surely I saw him--surely I saw yourlord."
"Yes, dear lady, you saw him safe," replied Antonio; "we werepreparing to force the gate; but we should have been too late had notthe maestro brought round the French forces from the other side of thetown and let us in."
"God be praised!" murmured Leonora; "but oh, Antonio, does any onebelieve him guilty still? If they do, that will kill him by a sharperdeath than that of the axe.
"No one does--no one can," replied Antonio. "Mardocchi--that is,Father Peter--made full confession last night of the darkest and mostdamnable plot that ever was hatched. I could not tell the Duke ofValentinois all, for there were many things I could not discover; butwhen I showed him plainly that Mardocchi had betrayed some of his mostterrible secrets, he had him put to the torture; and then thebloody-minded knave confessed the whole, filling up all the gaps thatmy tale had left. The duke showed no reverence for his shaved head,but struck it off, and sent it to Imola, with his whole evidencewritten down by the Dominican who was there present. No, no, lady, noone can entertain even a suspicion now."
"Thank God for that also," said Leonora, in a low tone. "Oh, this hasbeen a terrible day."
Again she let fall the curtain of the litter; and the bearers movedslowly up the hill. They carried her along the terrace to her ownsaloon; but when they stopped, and Leonardo would have aided her todescend, they found her sound asleep.
Tired nature, exhausted with the conflict of passions, had given way,and slumber had sealed her eyes at the first touch of returning peace.There was a sweet, well-contented smile upon her lips, but Leonardomarked a bright red spot upon her cheek, and calling her maids to her,he himself stayed at the villa till she awoke. The burning fever wasalready upon her; her words were incoherent, her pulse beatingterribly. For fourteen days Leonora d'Orco hung between life anddeath; and happy was it, perhaps, that anything occurred to place aveil between her eyes and the last terrible act of the drama in whichshe herself had borne so conspicuous a part.
Every one at all acquainted with Italian history knows what followed;how C?sar Borgia, about four days after the events last recorded hadtaken place, commanded the personal attendance of Ramiro d'Orco on histerrible and treacherous march to Senegaglia; how Ramiro found himselfcompelled to obey, both by the presence of the French and the papaltroops in his capital, and by fear lest his machinations againstLorenzo Visconti should be too closely investigated; and how his deadbody was found one morning out in two pieces, in the marketplace ofBologna. None knew how he died, or by whose command; and Leonora neversuspected that he had suffered a violent death.
That he was dead they told her as soon as she could bear such tidings;and under the escort of De Vitry and his forces she joined BiancaMaria and returned, after some months, to the Milanese. At the end ofsome fifteen or sixteen months, Lorenzo Visconti and Leonora d'Orcocast off the garb of mourning, and united their fates for ever. It wason the day when she reached her twenty-first birthday; and if thereader will look back through this veracious history, he will see thatfew so young have ever gone through such varied and terrible griefsand trials; nor will he wonder that, while I say Leonora d'Orco was atlast happy, I add, that a shade of melancholy mingled with her joy,and that the dark cloud of memory still hung over the past, forming asombre background to the sparkling sunshine of the present.
FOOTNOTES
[Footnote 1: Paul Jovius describes these guns--the embryo musket--amongstthe arms of the Swiss infantry, which did such good service in thecampaign against Naples. They were at first looked upon with greatcontempt by the men-at-arms.]
[Footnote 2: The facts alleged against Alexander by the cardinal were,unfortunately, only too notorious, and the letters produced were theauthentic letters of Borgia and Bajazet. They are still extant andauthenticated by the Apostolic notary. In one from the pope to thesultan he demands "_ut placeat sibi_ (Bajazet) _quam citius mittera.nobis ducatos quadraginta millia in auro venetos, pro annata annipraesentis, quae finiet ultimo die novembris_," and Bajazet sweetlysuggests to his Christian ally, "_dictum Gem_ (Zizim) _levare facereex augustiis istius mundi et transferri ejus animam in alterumsaeculum ubi meliorem habebit quietem_," promising him three hundredthousand ducats as soon as the corpse is delivered to his (Bajazet's)agents.]
[Footnote 3: The Kings of France always claimed to be such, and the bishopflattered the monarch's pride by the allusion.]
THE END.
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Leonora D'Orco: A Historical Romance Page 45