'But the greatest grief of all is the loss of your husband, Girolamo. Ah, how beautiful is the grief of a widow! But it was the will of God. And what has he to complain of now? Let us think of him clad in robes of light, with a golden harp in his hands. Ah, lady, he is an angel in heaven, and we are miserable sinners upon earth. How greatly to be envied is his lot! He was a humble, pious man, and he has his reward. Ah'
But she could hold back no longer. She burst forth like a fury.
'Oh, how can you stand before me, uttering these hypocrisies? How dare you say these things to me, when you are enjoying the fruits of his death and my misfortune? Hypocrite! You are the vulture feeding with the crows, and you come and whine and pray and talk to me of the will of God!'
She clasped her hands and lifted them passionately towards heaven.
'Oh, I hope that my turn will come, and then I will show you what is the will of God. Let them take care!'
'You are incensed, dear lady, and you know not what you say. You will regret that you have accepted my consolations with disdain. But I forgive you with a Christian spirit.'
'I do not want your forgiveness. I despise you.'
She uttered the words like the hiss of a serpent. Savello's eyes sparkled a little, and his thin lips were drawn rather thinner than before, but he only sighed, and said gently,
'You are beside yourself. You should turn to the Consoler of Sorrow. Watch and pray!'
'What is it you want with me?' she said, taking no notice of his remark.
Savello hesitated, looking at her. She beat her foot impatiently.
'Quick!' she said. 'Tell me, and let me remain in peace. I am sick of you.'
'I came to offer you consolation, and to bid you be of good faith.'
'Do you think I am a fool? If you have no further business with mego!'
The priest now had some difficulty in containing himself; his eyes betrayed him.
'I am a man of peace, and I desire to spill no blood. Therefore I wished to propose that you should come with me and summon the Castellan to give up the citadel, which may be the means of avoiding much bloodshed, and also of gaining the thanks of the Holy Father.'
'I will not help you. Shall I aid you to conquer my own town?'
'You must remember that you are in our hands, fair lady,' he answered meekly.
'Well?'
'I am a man of peace, but I might not be able to prevent the people from revenging themselves on you for your refusal. It will be impossible to hide from them that you are the cause of the holding back of the citadel.'
'I can well understand that you would hesitate at nothing.'
'It is not I, dear lady'
'Ah, no; you are the servant of the Pope! It is the will of God!'
'You would be wise to do as we request.'
There was a look of such ferocity in his face that one saw he would indeed hesitate at nothing. Caterina thought a little.
'Very well,' she said, to my intense surprise, 'I will do my best.'
'You will gain the gratitude of the Holy Father and my own thanks.'
'I put an equal value upon both.'
'And now, madam, I will leave you. Take comfort, and apply yourself to pious exercises. In prayer you will find a consolation for all your woes.'
He raised his hand as before, and, with the outstretched fingers, repeated the blessing.
XXVII
We went to the fortress in solemn procession, the people, as we passed, mingling shouts of praise for Checco with yells of derision for Caterina. She walked on with her stately indifference, and when the protonotary addressed her, repelled him with disdain.
The Castellan was summoned, and the Countess addressed him in the words which Savello had suggested,
'As Heaven has taken the Count from me, and also the city, I beg you, by the confidence I showed in choosing you as Castellan, to surrender this fortress to the ministers of His Holiness the Pope.'
There was a light tinge of irony in her voice, and her lips showed the shadow of a smile.
The Castellan replied gravely,
'By the confidence you showed in choosing me as Castellan, I refuse to surrender this fortress to the ministers of his Holiness the Pope. And as Heaven has taken the Count from you, and also the city, it may take the citadel too, but, by God! madam, no power on earth shall.'
Caterina turned to Savello,
'What shall I do?'
'Insist.'
She solemnly repeated her request, and he solemnly made his reply.
'It is no good,' she said, 'I know him too well. He thinks I am speaking under compulsion. He does not know that I am acting of my own will, for the great love I bear the Pope and the Church.'
'We must have the citadel,' said Savello, emphatically. 'If we do not get it, I cannot answer for your safety.'
She looked at him; then an idea seemed to occur to her.
'Perhaps if I went in and spoke to him he would consent to surrender.'
'We cannot allow you out of our power,' said Checco.
'You would have my children as hostages.'
'That is true,' mused Savello; 'I think we can let her go.'
Checco disapproved, but the priest overruled him, and the Castellan was summoned again, and ordered to admit the Countess. Savello warned her,
'Remember that we hold your children, and shall not hesitate to hang them before your eyes if'
'I know your Christian spirit, Monsignor,' she interrupted.
* * * * *But when she was inside she turned to us, and from the ramparts addressed us with mocking laughter. The fury which had been boiling within her burst out. She hurled at us words of foul abuse, so that one might have thought her a fishwife; she threatened us with death, and every kind of torture, in revenge for the murder of her husband.
We stood looking up at her with open mouths, dumbfounded. A cry of rage broke from the people; Matteo uttered an oath. Checco looked angrily at Savello, but said nothing. The priest was furious; his big red face grew purple, and his eyes glistened like a serpent's.
'Bastard!' he hissed. 'Bastard!'
Trembling with anger, he ordered the children to be sent for, and he cried out to the Countess,
'Do not think that we shall hesitate. Your sons shall be hanged before your very eyes.'
'I have the means of making more,' she replied scornfully.
She was lionhearted. I could not help feeling admiration for the extraordinary woman. Surely she could not sacrifice her children! And I wondered if a man would have had the courage to give that bold answer to Savello's threats.
Savello's expression had become fiendish. He turned to his assistants.
'Let a double scaffold be erected here, at once and quickly.'
The chiefs of the conspiracy retired to a sheltered place, while the mob gathered in the piazza; and soon the buzz of many voices mingled with hammering and the cries of workmen. The Countess stood above looking at the people, watching the gradual erection of the scaffold.
In a little while its completion was announced. Savello and the others came forward, and the priest once more asked her whether she would surrender. She did not deign to answer. The two boys were brought forwardone was nine, the other seven. As the people looked upon their youth a murmur of pity passed through them. My own heart began to beat a little. They looked at the scaffold and could not understand; but Cesare, the younger, seeing the strange folk round him and the angry faces, began to cry. Ottaviano was feeling rather tearful too; but his superior age made him ashamed, and he was making mighty efforts to restrain himself. All at once Cesare caught sight of his mother, and he called to her. Ottaviano joined him, and they both cried out,
'Mother! Mother!'
She looked at them, but made not the slightest motion, she might have been of stone. Oh, it was horrible; she was too hard!
'Once more, I ask you,' said Savello, 'will you surrender the castle?'
'Nono!'
Her voice was quite steady, ringing clear as a silver bell.
Savello made a sign, and two men approached the boys. Then suddenly they seemed to understand; with a shriek they ran to Checco, and, falling at his feet, clasped his knees. Ottaviano could hold out no longer; he burst into tears, and his brother, at the elder's weakness, redoubled his own cries.
'Oh, Checco, don't let them touch us!'
Checco took no notice of them; he looked straight in front of him. And even when the Count had just fallen under his dagger he had not been so ghastly pale. The children were sobbing desperately at his knees. The men hesitated; but there was no pity in the man of God; he repeated his sign more decisively than before, and the men advanced. The children clung to Checco's legs, crying,
'Checco, don't let them touch us!'
He made no sign. He held his eyes straight in front of him, as if he saw nothing, heard nothing. But his face! Never have I seen such agony.
The children were torn from him, their hands bound behind their backs. How could they! My heart was bursting within me, but I dared say nothing. They were led to the scaffold. A sobbing cry came from the people and wailed through the heavy air.
The Countess stood still, looking at her children. She made not the slightest motion; she might have been of stone.
The children cried out,
'Checco! Checco!'
It was heartbreaking.
'Go on!' said Savello.
A groan burst from Checco, and he swayed to and fro, as if he were going to fall.
'Go on!' said Savello.
But Checco could not bear it.
'Oh, God! Stop!stop!'
'What do you mean?' said Savello, angrily. 'Go on!'
'I cannot! Untie them!'
'You fool! I threatened to hang them, and I will. Go on!'
'You shall not! Untie them, I tell you!'
'I am master here. Go on!'
Checco strode towards him with clenched fists.
'By God, Master Priest, you shall go the way you came, if you thwart me. Untie them!'
In a moment Matteo and I had pushed aside the men who held them, and cut their cords. Checco staggered towards the children, and they with a bound threw themselves into his arms. He clasped them to him passionately, and covered them with kisses. A shout of joy broke from the people, and many burst into tears.
Suddenly we saw a commotion on the castle walls. The Countess had fallen back, and men were pressing round her.
She had fainted.
XXVIII
We went home rather troubled. Savello was walking alone, very angry, with a heavy frown between his eyes, refusing to speak. Checco was silent and angry too, half blaming himself for what he had done, half glad, and Bartolomeo Moratini was by his side, talking to him. Matteo and I were behind with the children. Bartolomeo fell back and joined us.
'I have been trying to persuade Checco to apologise to Savello, but he will not.'
'Neither would I,' said Matteo.
'If they quarrel, it will be the worse for the town.'
'If I were Checco, I would say that the town might go to the devil, but I would not apologise to that damned priest.'
When we reached the Palazzo Orsi a servant came out to meet us, and told Checco that a messenger was waiting with important news. Checco turned to Savello, and said gloomily,
'Will you come? It may need some consultation.'
The protonotary did not answer, but walked sulkily into the house. After a few minutes, Checco came to us, and said,
'The Duke of Milan is marching against Forli with five thousand men.'
No one spoke, but the expression on the protonotary's face grew darker.
'It is fortunate we have preserved the children,' said Bartolomeo. 'They will be more useful to us alive than dead.'
Savello looked at him; and then, as if trying to mend the breach, but rather against his will, said ungraciously,
'Perhaps you were right, Checco, in what you did. I did not see at the moment the political wisdom of your act.'
He could not help the sneer. Checco flushed a little, but on a look from Bartolomeo answered,
'I am sorry if I was too quick of tongue. The excitement of the moment and my temper made me scarcely responsible.'
Checco looked as if it were a very bitter pill he had been forced to swallow; but the words had a reasonable effect, and the clouds began to clear away. An earnest discussion was commenced on the future movements. The first thing was to send for help against the Duke Lodovico. Savello said he would apply to Rome. Checco counted on Lorenzo de' Medici, and messengers were forthwith despatched to both. Then it was decided to gather as much victuals as possible into the town, and fortify the walls, so that they might be prepared for a siege. As to the citadel, we knew it was impossible to take it by storm; but it would not be difficult to starve it into surrender, for on the news of the Count's death the gates had been shut with such precipitation that the garrison could not have food for more than two or three days.
Then Checco sent away his wife and children; he tried to persuade his father to go too, but the Orso said he was too old and would rather die in his own town and palace than rush about the country in search of safety. In the troubled days of his youth he had been exiled many times, and now his only desire was to remain at home in his beloved Forli.
The news of Lodovico's advance threw consternation into the town, and when cartloads of provisions were brought in, and the fortifications worked at day and night, the brave citizens began to quake and tremble. They were going to have a siege and would have to fight, and it was possible that if they did not sufficiently hide themselves behind the walls, they might be killed. As I walked through the streets, I noticed that the whole populace was distinctly paler. It was as if a cold wind had blown between their shoulders, and bleached and pinched their faces. I smiled, and said to them, in myself,
'You have had the plunder of the Palace and the customhouses, my friends, and you liked that very well; now you will have to pay for your pleasure.'
I admired Checco's wisdom in giving them good reasons for being faithful to him. I imagined that, if the beneficent rule of the Countess returned, it would fare ill with those who had taken part in the looting.
Checco had caused his family to leave the town as secretly as possible; the preparations had been made with the greatest care, and the departure effected under cover of night. But it leaked out, and then the care he had taken in concealing the affair made it more talked of. They asked why Checco had sent away his wife and children. Was he afraid of the siege? Did he intend to leave them himself? At the idea of a betrayal, anger mixed itself with their fear, and they cried out against him! And why did he want to do it so secretly? Why should he try to conceal it? A thousand answers were given, and all more or less discreditable to Checco. His wonderful popularity had taken long enough to reach the point when he had walked through the streets amidst showers of narcissi; but it looked as if less days would destroy it than years had built it up. Already he could walk out without being surrounded by the mob and carried about in triumph. The shouts of joy had ceased to be a burden to him; and no one cried 'Pater Patriæ' as he passed. Checco pretended to notice no change, but in his heart it tormented him terribly. The change had begun on the day of the fiasco at the fortress; people blamed the leaders for letting the Countess out of their hands, and it was a perpetual terror to them to have the enemy in their very midst. It would have been bearable to stand an ordinary siege, but when they had their own citadel against them, what could they do?