CHAPTER XVIII.
It was in the king's tent, on the night after the fall ofVivizano--for so rapid had been the capture of the place that time fora short march towards Sarzana still remained after its fall, and sowild and uncultivated was the country round, so scanty the supply ofprovisions and fodder, that all were anxious to get into a moreplentiful region--it was in the king's tent then, a wide and sumptuouspavilion, that on the night after the capture of Vivizano a councilwas assembled, amongst the members of which might be seen nearly asmany churchmen as soldiers.
It is impossible to narrate a thousandth part of all that took place;messengers and soldiers came and went; new personages were introducedupon the scene; and some of the old characters which had disappearedreturned to the monarch's court.
A young man, magnificently dressed, and of comely form and face, satnear to Charles on his right hand; and when Bayard, who was standingwith Lorenzo a little behind the king's chair, asked Visconti who thenew comer was, Lorenzo answered:
"That is Pierre de Medici. We were old companions long ago; for he isnot many years my elder."
"His face looks weak!" said Bayard; "I should not think he was equalto his father."
Lorenzo shook his head with a sigh; and De Terrail continued:
"There is our old friend, Ludovic the Moor, too. He arrived to-day, Isuppose. I wonder the king has you here; he was always so anxious tokeep you out of his way."
"The camp is a safer place than the court," said Lorenzo; "he cannotwell poison me here."
"No, nor stab you either," said Bayard, "that is to say, without beingfound out. Yet you had better beware; for he has got a notion, I amtold, that you may some time or another dispute his duchy with him."
"That is nonsense, De Terrail," replied Lorenzo: "the Duke of Orleansis nearer to the dukedom than I am."
"Ay, but policy might keep the duke out and favour you," said Bayard."It does not do to make a subject too powerful. But what are theyabout now? What packet is that which Breconnel is opening and layingits contents before the king?"
"That looks like the papal seal pendant from it," replied Visconti."Hark! the bishop is about to read it aloud."
The conversation of the two young men had been carried on in a lowtone, and many another whispered talk had been going on amongst thecourtiers, drowned by the louder sounds which had issued from theimmediate neighbourhood of the table at which the king sat; but themoment that the Bishop of St. Malo began to read, or rather totranslate aloud, the letters which he held in his hand, and which werewritten in Latin, every tongue was stilled, and each ear bent to hear.
"His Holiness greets your Majesty well," said the bishop; "but hepositively prohibits your advance to Rome under pain of the majorcensures of the Church. These are his words," and he proceeded in asomewhat stumbling and awkward manner to decipher and render intoFrench the pontifical missive.
The despatch was rather diffuse and lengthy, and while the good bishopwent on, an elderly man plainly habited in black, came round andwhispered something several times in the king's ear. Charles turnedtowards him and listened while the prelate went on; and at last themonarch replied, saying something which was not heard by others, andadding a very significant sign. The secret adviser withdrew at onceinto an inner apartment of the tent, from the main chamber of which itwas separated by a crimson curtain. He returned in a moment with alarge book, on the wood and velvet cover of which reposed a crucifixand a rosary. The Bishop of St. Malo read on; but without noticinghim, the man in black knelt before the king, who immediately laid hishand on the crucifix, and then, after murmuring some words in asubdued tone, yet not quite in a whisper, raised the volume to hislips and kissed it with every appearance of reverence.
The book, the crucifix, and the rosary were then removed as silentlyas they had been brought, and the reading of the papal brief proceededwithout interruption. When the prelate had concluded the reading ofthe missive which threatened the monarch of France, the eldest son ofthe Church, with all the thunders of the Vatican if he dared toadvance upon Rome, Charles, in his low, sweet voice, addressed thebishop, saying:
"My Lord Bishop, I have but one answer to make to the prohibition ofHis Holiness, but I trust that answer will be deemed sufficient by allthe members of my council, though all are devout men, and some of thempeculiarly reverend by profession and by sanctity of life. I shouldwish an answer written to our Apostolic Father, assuring him of ourdeep respect and our willingness to obey his injunctions in allmatters of religion, where superior duties from which he himselfcannot set us free do not interpose; but informing him of a fact whichhe does not know, that we are bound by a sacred vow sworn upon theHoly Evangelists, and upon a crucifix which contains a portion of thetrue cross, to visit the shrine of St. Peter before we turn our stepshomewards. Is that not sufficient cause, my Lord Cardinal," hecontinued, looking towards Julian de Rovers, "to pass by allimpediments and prohibitions and go forward on our pilgrimage?"
"Sufficient cause," exclaimed the eager and impetuous prelate, "whatneed of any cause? what need of any vow?"
He paused, almost choked by the impetuosity of his feelings; and asmile which had passed round the council at hearing a vow just taken,alleged as an excuse for disregarding a prohibition issued longbefore, faded away in eagerness to hear the further reply of a manwhose powerful mind and iron will were known to all.
"My lord, the king," he answered, in a calmer tone, after he hadrecovered breath. "Your vow is all-sufficient, but there are weightiercauses even than that solemn vow which call you to Rome. The greatest,the most important task which ever monarch undertook lies before you.A Heresiarch sits in the throne of St. Peter, a man whose privatelife, base and criminal as it is, is pure compared with his publiclife--whose guilt, black as it is, as a priest and a pontiff, is whiteas snow compared with his guilt as the pretended head of the Christianchurch, in negotiating with, and allying himself to infidels--to theslaves of Mahomed, against Christian men and monarchs, the most devoutservants of the holy see. Well may I see consternation, surprise, andeven incredulity, on the countenances of all present! But I speak noton rumour, or the vague report of the enemies of Alexander Borgia,calling himself Pope. Happily into my hands have fallen these letterswhich have passed between him and Bajazet, the Infidel Sultan. Theyare too long to read now; but I deliver them into the hands of thekings council, and will only state a few of the facts which they makemanifest. Thus it appears, from these letters, of which theauthenticity is beyond doubt, that this heretical interloper in thechair of St. Peter, has agreed to receive, and does receive an annualpension from Antichrist, and that he has engaged for three hundredthousand ducats to assassinate an unhappy prince of the infidels,named Zizim, who is in his power, to gratify the impious Sultan of theTurks. Let the council read these letters; let them consider themwell; let them compare the life and conversation of the man with theseacts of the pontiff, and then decide whether it is not the duty of theMost Christian King, not only to march to Rome, but to call a councilof the Church Universal, for the trial and deposition of one who holdshis seat, not by the grace of God, but by the aid of simony, and themachinations of the devil. My lord the king, I address you as theeldest son of the Church, as the descendant of those who havestruggled, and fought, and bled for her; and I call upon you todeliver her from the oppression under which she groans, to eject fromher highest place the profane man who has no right to the seat of St.Peter, and to purify the temple and the altar from the desecration ofa Borgia."[2]
Charles hesitated for a few moments ere he replied, and two or threeof those quiet counsellors, one of whom had previously addressed him,now came separately and spoke to him in low tones over the back of hischair.
"My lord the cardinal," he said at length, "the grave subject yourEminence has brought before us, is of so important a nature that itrequires much and calm consideration. Rome is yet far off, and on ourmarch thither we shall have many an occasion to call for your counsel.This subject, surpassing all others in
importance, must engage ourattention when we can have a more private interview; for it will beneedful to avoid in doing our best to purify the Church, the greatdanger of creating a scandal in the Church itself."
"Wisely spoken, my lord the king," answered the prelate, "but I shouldlike at present to know, who is the messenger who has had thehardihood to bear a prohibition from entering the holy city to thesuccessor of Charlemagne.[3] Can it be one of the Sacred College? Ifso, why is he not here present?"
"Why, to speak the truth," said the Bishop of St. Malo, with a ruefulsmile, "his holiness has not altogether shown the respect which is dueto his own brief, or to his Majesty's crown, in the choice of amessenger. He who has brought the missive is a common courier. Hecalls himself, indeed, a gentleman of Rome, and, by the way, he haswith him a man who desires to see and speak with your Eminence, forwhom, he says, he has letters. They may, perhaps, throw some lightupon the question why his holiness did not entrust such an importantpaper to a more dignified bearer."
To uninstructed ears the words of the good bishop had little specialmeaning; but intrigue and corruption were then so general, especiallyin Italian courts, that the Cardinal Julian at once perceived from thelanguage used, a doubt in the mind of some of the king's counsellorsas to whether, while declaiming against Alexander, he might not besecretly negotiating with him for his own purposes.
"Let the man be brought in," he said, abruptly. "I know not who shouldwrite to me from Rome; but we shall soon see. Good faith! I have hadlittle communication with any one in that city since the taking ofOstia. Let the man be called, I beseech you, my good and reverendlord."
The Bishop of St. Malo spoke to one of the attendants; the man quittedthe tent, and some other business was proceeded with, occupying abouta quarter of an hour, when a personage was introduced and brought tothe end of the table, whom the reader has heard of before. He was asmall, thin, wiry man, dressed as a friar. His countenance was notvery prepossessing, and his complexion both sallow and sun-burned,except where a thick black beard closely shaved, gave a bluish tint tothe skin; and there a great difference of hue in the skin itself,seemed to intimate that the razor had only lately been applied.
"Who are you, sir?" said the cardinal sharply, as soon as hisattention had been directed to the new comer, "and what want you withme? I am Julian de Rovera, Cardinal of St. Peter's, if you are seekingthat person."
"I am but a poor friar of the Order of St. Francis, Brother Martin byname," replied the man, "and the Signor Ramiro d'Orco, a noble lordnow in Rome, hearing that I was journeying to Bologna----"
"But this is not Bologna," said the Cardinal, "nor on the waythither."
"True, your Eminence," answered the other, "but, as I was saying, theSignor Ramiro, hearing that I was going to Bologna, entrusted certainletters to my care for your Eminence, whom he asserted to be his nearrelation----"
"Ay, ay! cousins--first cousins," said the impetuous prelate, "whatthen?"
"Why, holy sir," continued the pretended friar, "finding that you werenot where the Signor Ramiro thought, and knowing that the letters wereimportant, I joined myself to the messenger of his Holiness and cameon hither."
A slight smile passed over the lip of Ludovic the Moor, as the manspoke; and it is not at all improbable that he recognised in the monka follower of his bravo, Buondoni; but he took no notice, and thecardinal exclaimed:
"Where are these letters? Let me see them, brother."
"They are here, Eminence," answered the man, feeling in the breast ofhis gown. "This is for you," and he presented one letter to thecardinal, while he held another in his hand.
"And what is that? Who is that for?" asked Julian, sharply.
"That is for the Signora Leonora d'Orco, if I can find her," repliedthe monk.
"I can find her," said the cardinal; "let me see the letter."
The man hesitated; but the prelate repeated, in a stern tone, "Let mesee the letter," and it was handed to him with evident reluctance.Without the slightest ceremony he broke the seal, even before he hadexamined the letter addressed to himself, and began reading it by thelight of the candelabra which stood near him.
The contents seemed by no means to give him satisfaction, and as hewas much in the habit of venting his thoughts aloud, it is probablethat an oath or two would have found their way to his lips, had he notbeen restrained, not only by a sense of his sacred calling, but by thepresence of so many strangers.
"Santa Maria!" he exclaimed, "did ever man hear! A pretty fathertruly. Would he cradle a new-born infant in a sow's sty?
"Hark ye, friar! if you reach Rome before me, tell my good cousin thatI have too much regard for his wife's child to let her set her foot inthe palace of any of the Borgias. Tell him that, being guarded by anoble gentleman and a good soldier, and guided and directed by me, shewill be quite safe till she reaches Florence, and that there I shallplace her under the matronly care of our cousin, Madonna FrancescaMelloni. Now get you gone."
"Your Eminence says nothing of his letter to yourself," said thepretended friar, with a slight sneer. "I will not fail to give himyour answer to his letter to his daughter."
"Ha! his letter to myself," said Julian; "I had forgotten that--butdoubtless it is of no great importance;--let me see," and he tore openthe epistle.
It seemed to afford him less satisfaction than even the other hadgiven; for his face worked, and many a broken sentence burst angrilyfrom his lips; but at length he turned to the messenger, again saying:
"Tell him I will answer this in person--perhaps in the Vatican. Yetstop; say, moreover, 'none but wolves herd with wolves.' Let him markthat; he will understand. There is money for your convent; now get yegone."
It had not been without some feeling of indignation that Lorenzo hadbeheld Ramiro d'Orco's letter to his daughter so dealt with; but theconclusion to which the prelate came pleased him well.
The whole interview between the cardinal and the messenger had notoccupied much more than about five minutes; but yet it could hardly becalled an episode in the council of King Charles, for on some accountmost of those present seemed to take no inconsiderable interest inwhat was passing at that part of the table, and all other business wassuspended. The eyes of the king and his counsellors were directed nowto the prelate, now to the messenger, and the only sounds thatinterfered with the conversation were some whispered remarks going onamongst the young officers behind.
When the monk was gone, there was a silent pause, as if every onewaited for another to open some new topic for discussion, but atlength the king said--
"You seem dissatisfied with your cousin's letter, my lord cardinal. Isit of importance?"
"Not in the least, sire," answered Julian; "Ramiro tries to composewhat he calls, 'an ancient but really slight difference,' between meand Alexander Borgia. Really slight difference! Oh yes, the saints bepraised, it is as slight as the difference between oil and water, orfire and ice. Can the man think that a few soft words, or the offer oftwo or three towns and castles, can make me look with favour upon asimonise, an adulterer, a poisoner, a heretic, and an abettor ofheretics, in the chair of St. Peter? No, no. There is the letter, mylord the king, for your private reading. I have nothing to conceal; Ideal in no serpent-like policy; and now, with your Majesty'spermission, I will retire. I have not the strength I once had, and Iam somewhat weary. If you will allow me I will take the younggentleman, Lorenzo Visconti, with me, as I see him here. We can takecounsel together as I go to my tent."
"We are sorry to lose your wisdom at our council, my lord cardinal,"replied the king; "but happily our more important business is over.Signor Visconti, conduct his Eminence to his quarters."
"Let me call the torch-bearers, my lord," said Lorenzo, springing tothe entrance of the tent, round which a crowd of attendants wereassembled. But the impetuous prelate came hard upon his steps, andstood more patiently than might have been expected till his flambeauxwere lighted. Two torchbearers and a soldier or two went before, andhe followed with Lorenzo by hi
s side, walking slowly along, andkeeping silence till they had nearly reached his pavilion.
"Well, young man?" said the cardinal at length, "what think you of myreply to my good cousin Ramiro? Did it satisfy you?"
"Fully, your Eminence," answered the young man; "it was all that Icould wish or desire. Indeed I cannot but think that it was a specialblessing of God that you were here to rescue me from a terribledifficulty regarding the Signora Leonora."
"How so--how so?" asked the prelate quickly, "you would not have senther to Rome, would you, even if I had not been here?
"No, my lord cardinal," answered Lorenzo firmly, "but it is a terriblething to teach a child to disobey a parent. You had spiritualauthority and a nearer right, and no one can doubt that you decidedjustly and well. Had I done the same, all men would have judged thatmy mere inclinations led me."
"You are wise and prudent beyond your years," said the old man, wellpleased, "no use of conference as I told you this morning, therebefore Vivizano. I make up my mind of men's characters rapidly butseldom wrongly. Here take Ramiro's letter to Leonora, and recount toher all I did. Tell her, that by the altar I serve and the God Iworship, and the Saviour in whom I put my trust, I could not consentto her being plunged into a sea of guilt and pollution, such as theworld has never seen since the days of Heliogabalus."
"I fear, my lord cardinal, she has retired to rest," said Lorenzo,"but if so I will deliver the letter and your Eminence's wordsto-morrow."
A slight smile came upon the old man's face; but notwithstanding hissternness and occasional violence, softer and kinder emotions wouldsometimes spring up from his heart. He crossed himself as if sorry forthe mere worldly smile; and then looking up on high, where the starswere sparkling clear and bright, he murmured, "Well, after all, thispure young love is a noble and beautiful thing. Good night, my son,God's benison and mine be upon you."
They had now reached the entrance of his tent and there they parted.