He paused a minute, looking at the room.
'Sometimes I think I have lost in its completion, for it gave me many pleasant hours to watch the progress. The hammer of the carpenter, the click of the trowel on the brick were music to my ears. There is always a melancholy in everything that is finished; with a house, the moment of its completion is the commencement of its decay. Who knows how long it will be before these pictures have mouldered off the walls, and the very walls themselves are crumbling to dust?'
'As long as your family reigns in Forli your palace will preserve its splendour.'
'Yes, and it seems to me that as the family will preserve the house, so the house will preserve the family. I feel myself firmer and more settled in Forli; this seems like a rock to which my fortunes can cling. But I am full of hope. I am still young and strong. I have a good thirty years of life before me, and what can one not do in thirty years? And then, Checco, my children! What a proud day it will be for me when I can take my son by the hand and say to him, "You are a fullgrown man, and you are capable of taking up the sceptre when death takes it from my hand." And it will be a good present I shall leave him. My head is full of plans. Forli shall be rich and strong, and its prince shall not need to fear his neighbours, and the Pope and Florence shall be glad of his friendship.'
He looked into space, as if he saw the future.
'But, meanwhile, I am going to enjoy life. I have a wife whom I love, a house to be proud of, two faithful cities. What more can I want?'
'You are a fortunate man,' said Checco.
There was a short silence. Checco looked at him steadily. The Count turned away, and Checco put his hand to his dagger. He followed him. As he was approaching, the Count turned again with a jewel that he had just taken from the window sill.
'I was looking at this stone when you came,' he said. 'Bonifazio has brought it me from Milan, but I am afraid I cannot afford it. It is very tempting.'
He handed it to Checco to look at.
'I don't think it is better than the one you have on your neck,' he said, pointing to the jewel which was set in a medallion of gold hanging from a heavy chain.
'Oh yes,' said Girolamo. 'It is much finer. Look at the two together.'
Checco approached the stone he held in his hand to the other, and, as he did so, with his other fingers pressed against the Count's chest. He wanted to see whether by any chance he wore a coat of mail; he did not mean to make the same mistake as the Count. He thought there was nothing; but he wished to make quite sure.
'I think you are right,' he said, 'but the setting shows off the other, so that at first sight it seems more brilliant. And no wonder, for the chain is a masterpiece.'
He took it up as if to look at it, and as he did so put his hand on the Count's shoulder. He was certain now.
'Yes,' said Girolamo, 'that was made for me by the best goldsmith in Rome. It is really a work of art.'
'Here is your stone,' said Checco, handing it to him, but awkwardly, so that when Girolamo wanted to take it, it fell between their hands. Instinctively he bent down to catch it. In a moment Checco drew his dagger and buried it in the Count's back. He staggered forward and fell in a heap on his face.
'Oh God!' he cried, 'I am killed.'
It was the first thing we had heard outside. We heard the cry, the heavy fall. The servant rushed to the curtain.
'They are killing my master,' he cried.
'Be quiet, you fool!' I said, seizing his head from behind and with my hands on his mouth dragging him backwards. At the same moment Matteo drew his dagger and pierced the man's heart. He gave a convulsive leap into the air, and then as he fell I pushed him so that he rolled to one side.
Immediately afterwards the curtain was lifted and Checco appeared, leaning against the doorpost. He was as pale as death, and trembling violently. He stood silent for a moment, openmouthed, so that I thought he was about to faint; then with an effort he said in a hoarse, broken voice,
'Gentlemen, we are free!'
A cry burst from us,
'Liberty!'
Lodovico Pansecchi asked,
'Is he dead?'
A visible shudder passed through Checco, as if he had been struck by an icy wind. He staggered to a chair and groaned,
'Oh God!'
'I will go and see,' said Pansecchi, lifting the curtain and entering.
We stood still, waiting for him. We heard a heavy sound, and as he appeared, he said,
'There is no doubt now.'
There was blood on his hands. Going up to Checco, he handed him the jewelled dagger.
'Take this. It will be more use to you than where you left it.'
Checco turned away in disgust.
'Here, take mine,' said Matteo. 'I will take yours. It will bring me good luck.'
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a step was heard outside. Scipione looked out cautiously.
'Andrea Framonti,' he whispered.
'Good luck, indeed!' said Matteo.
It was the captain of the guard. He was in the habit of coming every day about this hour to receive the password from the Count. We had forgotten him. He entered.
'Goodday to you, gentlemen! Are you waiting to see the Count?'
He caught sight of the corpse lying against the wall.
'Good God! what is this? What is?'
He looked at us, and stopped suddenly. We had surrounded him.
'Treason!' he cried. 'Where is the Count?'
He looked behind him; Scipione and Matteo barred the door.
'Treason!' he shouted, drawing his sword.
At the same moment we drew ours and rushed for him. He parried a few of our blows, but we were too many, and he fell pierced with a dozen wounds.
The sight of the fray had a magical effect on Checco. We saw him standing up, drawn to his full height, his cheeks aflame, his eyes flashing.
'Good, my friends, good! Luck is on our side,' he said. 'Now we must look alive and work. Give me my dagger, Matteo; it is sacred now. It has been christened in blood with the name of Liberty. Liberty, my friends, Liberty!'
We flourished our swords and shouted,
'Liberty!'
'Now, you, Filippo, take Lodovico Pansecchi and Marco, and go to the apartment of the Countess; tell her that she and her children are prisoners, and let no one enter or leave. Do this at any cost. The rest of us will go out and rouse the people. I have twenty servants armed whom I told to wait in the piazza; they will come and guard the Palace and give you any help you need. Come!'
I did not know the way to the Countess's chamber, but Marco had been a special favourite and knew well the ins and outs of the Palace. He guided me to the door, where we waited. In a few minutes we heard cries in the piazza, and shouts of 'Liberty.' There came a tramp of feet up the stairs. It was Checco's armed servants. Some of them appeared where we were. I sent Marco to lead the others.
'Clear the Palace of all the servants. Drive them out into the piazza, and if anyone resists, kill him.'
Marco nodded and went off. The door of the Countess's apartments was opened, and a lady said,
'What is this noise?'
But immediately she saw us, she gave a shriek and ran back. Then, leaving two men to guard the door, I entered with Pansecchi and the rest. The Countess came forward.
'What is the meaning of this?' she said angrily. 'Who are you? What are these men?'
'Madam,' I said, 'the Count, your husband, is dead, and I have been sent to take you prisoner.'
The women began to weep and wail, but the Countess did not move a muscle. She appeared indifferent to my intelligence.
The women began to weep and wail, but the Countess did not move a muscle. She appeared indifferent to my intelligence.
'You,' I said, pointing to the ladies and women servants, 'you are to leave the Palace at once. The Countess will be so good as to remain here with her children.'
Then I asked where the children were. The women looked at their mistress, who said shortly,
'Bring them!'
I signed to Pansecchi, who accompanied one of the ladies out of the room, and reappeared with the three little children.
'Now, madam,' I said, 'will you dismiss these ladies?'
She looked at me a moment, hesitating. The cries from the piazza were growing greater; it was becoming a roar that mounted to the Palace windows.
'You can leave me,' she said.
They broke again into shrieks and cries, and seemed disinclined to obey the order. I had no time to waste.
'If you do not go at once, I shall have you thrown out!'
The Countess stamped her foot.
'Go when I tell you! Go!' she said. 'I want no crying and screaming.'
They moved to the door like a flock of sheep, trampling on one another, bemoaning their fate. At last I had the room free.
'Madam,' I said, 'you must allow two soldiers to remain in the room.'
I locked the two doors of the chamber, mounted a guard outside each, and left her.
XXIV
I went out into the piazza. It was full of men, but where was the enthusiasm we had expected, the tumult, the shouts of joy? Was not the tyrant dead? But they stood there dismayed, confounded, like sheep. And was not the tyrant dead? I saw partisans of Checco rushing through the crowd with cries of 'Death to all tyrants,' and 'Liberty, liberty!' but the people did not move. Here and there were men mounted on barrows, haranguing the people, throwing out words of fire, but the wind was still and they did not spread. Some of the younger ones were talking excitedly, but the merchants kept calm, seeming afraid. They asked what was to happen nowwhat Checco would do? Some suggested that the town should be offered to the Pope; others talked of Lodovico Sforza and the vengeance he would bring from Milan.
I caught sight of Alessandra Moratini.
'What news? What news?'
'Oh God, I don't know!' he said with an expression of agony. 'They won't move. I thought they would rise up and take the work out of our hands. But they are as dull as stones.'
'And the others?' I asked.
'They are going through the town trying to rouse the people. God knows what success they will have!'
At that moment there was a stir at one end of the square, and a crowd of mechanics surged in, headed by a gigantic butcher, flourishing a great meataxe. They were crying 'Liberty!' Matteo went towards them and began to address them, but the butcher interrupted him and shouted coarse words of enthusiasm, at which they all yelled with applause.
Checco came on the scene, accompanied by his servants. A small crowd followed, crying,
'Bravo, Checco! bravo!'
As soon as the mechanics saw him, they rushed towards him, surrounding him with cries and cheers. The square was growing fuller every moment; the shops had been closed, and from all quarters came swarming artisans and apprentices. I made my way to Checco and whispered to him,
'The people! Fire them, and the rest will follow.'
'A leader of rabble!'
'Never mind,' I said. 'Make use of them. Give way to them now, and they will do your will. Give them the body of the Count!'
He looked at me, then nodded and whispered,
'Quickly!'
I ran to the Palace and told Marco Scorsacana what I had come for. We went into the Hall of the Nymphs; the body was lying on its face, almost doubled up, and the floor was stained with a horrible stream of blood; in the back were two wounds. Lodovico had indeed made sure that the Count was safe. We caught hold of the body; it was not yet cold, and dragged it to the window. With difficulty we lifted it on to the sill.
'Here is your enemy!' I cried.
Then hoisting him, we pushed him out, and he fell on the stones with a great, dull thud. A mighty shout burst from the mob as they rushed at the body. One man tore the chain off his neck, but as he was running away with it another snatched at it. In the struggle it broke, and one got away with the chain, the other with the jewel. Then, with cries of hate, they set on the corpse. They kicked him and slapped his face and spat on him. The rings were wrenched off his fingers, his coat was torn away; they took his shoes, his hose; in less than a minute everything had been robbed, and he was lying naked, naked as when he was born. They had no mercy those people; they began to laugh and jeer, and make foul jokes about his nakedness.
The piazza was thronged, and every moment people entered; the women of the lower classes had come, joining their shrill cries to the shouts of the men. The noise was stupendous, and above all rang the cries of Liberty and Death.
'The Countess! The Countess!'
It became the general cry, drowning the others, and from all quarters.
'Where is the Countess? Bring her out. Death to the Countess!'
A cry went up that she was in the Palace, and the shout became,
'To the Palace! To the Palace!'
Checco said to us,
'We must save her. If they get hold of her she will be torn to pieces. Let her be taken to my house.'
Matteo and Pansecchi took all the soldiers they could and entered the Palace. In a few minutes they appeared with Caterina and her children; they had surrounded her and were walking with drawn swords.
A yell broke from these thousands of throats, and they surged towards the little band. Checco shouted out to them to let her go in peace, and they held back a little; but as she passed they hissed and cursed and called her foul names. Caterina walked proudly, neither turning to the right nor to the left, no sign of terror on her face, not even a pallid cheek. She might have been traversing the piazza amidst the homage of her people. Suddenly it occurred to a man that she had jewels concealed on her. He pushed through the guards and put his hand to her bosom. She lifted her hand and hit him in the face. A cry of rage broke from the populace, and they made a rush. Matteo and his men stopped, closing together, and he said,
'By God! I swear I will kill any man who comes within my reach.'
They shrank back frightened, and taking advantage of this, the little band hurried out of the piazza.
Then the people looked at one another, waiting for something to do, not knowing where to begin. Their eyes were beginning to flame, and their hands to itch for destruction. Checco saw their feeling, and at once pointed to the Palace.
'There are the fruits of your labours, your money, your jewels, your taxes. Go and take back your own. There is the Palace. We give you the Palace.'
They broke into a cheer, a rush was made, and they struggled in by the great doors, fighting their way up the stairs in search of plunder, dispersing through the splendid rooms.
Checco looked at them disappearing through the gateway.
'Now, we have them at last.'
In a few minutes the stream at the Palace gates became double, for it consisted of those coming out as well as of those going in. The confusion became greater and greater, and the rival bands elbowed and struggled and fought. The windows were burst open and things thrown outcoverlets, linen, curtains, gorgeous silks, Oriental brocades, satinsand the women stood below to catch them. Sometimes there was a struggle for possession, but the objects were poured out so fast that everyone could be satisfied. Through the doors men could be seen coming with their arms full, their pockets bulging, and handing their plunder to their wives to take home, while they themselves rushed in again. All the little things were taken first, and then it was the turn of the furniture. People came out with chairs or coffers on their heads, bearing them away quickly lest their claim should be disputed. Sometimes the entrance was stopped by two or three men coming out with a heavy chest or with the pieces of a bedstead. Then the shouting and pushing and confusion were worse than ever. Even the furniture gave out under the keen hands, and looking round they saw that the walls and floors were bare. But there was still something for them. They made for the doors and wrenched them away. From the piazza we saw men tear out the window frames, even the hinges were taken, and they streamed out of the Palace heavily laden, their hands bloody from the work of destruction.