CHAPTER V. MADONNA'S INGRATITUDE
We stayed in Fossombrone little more than a half-hour, and having made ahasty supper we resumed our way, giving out that we wished to reach Fanoere we slept. And so by the first hour of night Fossombrone was a leagueor so behind us, and we were advancing briskly towards the sea. Overheada moon rode at the full in a clear sky, and its light was reflected bythe snow, so that we were not discomforted by any darkness. We fell,presently, into a gentler pace, for, after all, there could be noadvantage in reaching Pesaro before morning, and as we rode we talked,and I made bold to ask her the cause of her flight from Rome.
She told me then that she was Madonna Paola Sforza di Santafior, andthat Pope Alexander, in his nepotism and his desire to make rich andpowerful alliances for his family, had settled upon her as the wife forhis nephew, Ignacio Borgia. He had been emboldened to this step by thefact that her only protector was her brother, Filippo di Santafior, whomthey had sought to coerce. It was her brother, who, seeing himself in adangerous and unenviable position, had secretly suggested flight toher, urging her to repair to her kinsman Giovanni Sforza at Pesaro. Herflight, however, must have been speedily discovered and the Borgias, whosaw in that act a defiance of their supreme authority, had ordered herpursuit.
But for me, she concluded, that pursuits must have resulted in hercapture, and once they had her back in Rome, willing or unwilling, theywould have driven her into the alliance by means of which they soughtto bring her fortune into their own house. This drew her into freshprotestations of the undying gratitude she entertained towards me,protestations which I would have stemmed, but that she persisted inthem.
"It is a good and noble thing that you have done," said she, "and Ithink that Heaven must have directed you to my aid, for it is scarcelikely that in all Italy I should have found another man who would havedone so much."
"Why, what, after all, is this much that I have done?" I cried. "It isno less than my manhood bade me do; no less than any other would havedone seeing you so beset."
"Nay, that is more than I can ever think," she answered. "Who for thesake of an unknown would have suffered such inconveniences as haveyou? Who would have returned as you have returned to advise me of thedefection of my grooms? Who, when other escort failed, would have gonethe length of journeying all this way to render a service that is beyondrepayment? And, above all, who for the sake of an unknown maid wouldhave submitted to this travesty of yours?"
"Travesty?" quoth I, so struck by that as to interrupt her at last."What travesty, Madonna?"
"Why, this garb of motley that you donned the better to fool my pursuersand that you still wear in my poor service."
I turned in the saddle to stare at her, and in the moonlight I clearlysaw her eyes meet mine. So! that was the reason of her kindness andof the easy familiarity of her speech with me! She deemed me someknight-errant who caracoled through Italy in quest of imperilled maidensneeding aid. Of a certainty she had gathered her knowledge of the worldfrom the works of Messer Bojardo, or perhaps from the "Amadis of Gaul"of Messer Bernardo Tasso. And, no doubt, she thought that suits ofmotley grew on bushes by the roadside, whence those who had a fancy fordisguise might cull them.
Well, well, it were better she should know the truth at once, and choosesuch a demeanour as she considered fitting towards a Fool. I had nostomach for the courtesies that were meant for such a man as I was not.
"Madonna, you are in error," I informed her, speaking slowly. "This garbis no travesty. It is my usual raiment."
There was a pause and I saw the slackening of her reins. No doubt, hadwe been afoot she would have halted, the better to confront me.
"How?" she asked, and a new note, imperious and chill, was soundingalready in her voice. "You would not have me understand that you are bytrade a Fool?
"Allowing that I am not a fool by birth, under what other circumstances,think you, I should be likely to wear the garments of a Fool?"
"But this morning," she protested, after a brief pause, "when first Imet you, you were not so arrayed."
"I was arrayed even as I am now, in a cloak and hat and boots thathid my motley from such undiscerning eyes as were yours and yourgrooms'--all taken up with your own fears as you then were."
There was in the tail of that a sting, as I meant there should be,for the sudden haughtiness of her tone was cutting into me. Was I lessworthy of thanks because I was a Fool? Had I on that account done lessto serve and save her? Or was it that the action which, in a spurred andarmoured knight, had been accounted noble was deemed unworthy ofthanks in a crested, motleyed jester? It seemed, indeed, that some suchreasoning she followed, for after that we spoke no more until we wereapproaching Fano.
A many times before had I felt the shame of my ignoble trade, but neverso acutely as at that moment. It had seared my soul when Giovanni Sforzahad told my story to his Court, ere he had driven me from Pesaro withthreats of hanging, and it had burned even deeper when later, MadonnaLucrezia, upon entrusting me with her letter to her brother, hadupbraided me with the supineness that so long had held me in that vilebondage. But deepest of all went now the burning iron of that disgrace.For my companion's silence seemed to argue that had she known my qualityshe would have scorned the aid of which she had availed herself to suchgood purpose. If any doubt of this had mercifully remained me, her nextwords would have served to have resolved it. It was when the lights ofFano gleamed ahead; we were coming to a cross-roads, and I urged theturning to the left.
"But Fano is in front," she remonstrated coldly.
"This way we can avoid the town and gain the Pesaro road beyond it,"answered I, my tone as cool as hers.
"Yet may it not be that at Fano I might find an escort?"
I could have cried out at her cruelty, for in her words I could but readmy dismissal from her service. There had been no more talk of an escortother than that which I afforded, and with which at first she had beenwell content.
I sat my mule in silence for a moment. She had been very justly servedhad I been the vassal that she deemed me, and had I borne myself in thatcharacter without consideration of her sex, her station or her years.She had been very justly served had I wheeled about and left her thereto make her way to Fano, and thence to Pesaro, as best she might. Shewas without money, as I knew, and she would have found in Fano such areception as would have brought the bitter tears of late repentance toher pretty eyes.
But I was soft-hearted, and, so, I reasoned with her; yet in a mannerthat was to leave her no doubt of the true nature of her situation, andthe need to use me with a little courtesy for the sake of what I mightyet do, if she lacked the grace to treat me with gratitude for the sakeof that which I had done already.
"Madonna," said I. "It were wiser to choose the by-road and forego theescort, since we have dispensed with it so far. There are many reasonswhy a lady should not seek to enter Fano at this hour of night."
"I know of none," she interrupted me.
"That may well be. Nevertheless they exist."
"This night-riding in so lonely a fashion is little to my taste," shetold me sullenly. "I am for Fano."
She had the mercy to spare me the actual words, yet her tone told me asplainly as if she had uttered them that I could go with her or not, asI should choose. In silence, very sore at heart, I turned my mule's headonce more towards the lights of the town.
"Since you are resolved, so be it," was all my answer; and we proceeded.
No word did we exchange until we had entered the main street, when shecurtly asked me which was the best inn.
"'The Golden Fish,'" said I, as curtly, and to "The Golden Fish" wewent.
Arrived there, Madonna Paola took affairs into her own hands. Shedismounted, leaving the reins with a groom, and entering the common-roomshe proclaimed her needs to those that occupied it by loudly callingupon the landlord to find her an escort of three or four knaves toaccompany her at once to Pesaro, where they should be well rewarded bythe Lord Giovanni, her cousin.
I had followed her in, and I ground my teeth at such an egregious pieceof folly. Her hood was thrown back, displaying the lenza of fine linenon her sable hair, and over this a net of purest gold all set withjewels. Her camorra, too, was open, and in her girdle there were gemsfor all to see. There were but a half-dozen men in the room. Two ofthese had a venerable air--they may have been traders journeying toMilan--whilst a third, who sat apart, was a slender, effeminate-lookingyouth. The remaining three were fellows of rough aspect, and when one ofthem--a black-browed ruffian--raised his eyes and fastened them upon theriches that Madonna Paola with such indifference displayed, I knew whatwas to follow.
He rose upon the instant, and stepping forward, he made her a low bow.
"Illustrious lady," said he, "if these two friends of mine and I findfavour with you, here is an escort ready found. We are stout fellows,and very faithful."
Faithful to their cut-throat trade, I made no doubt he meant.
His fellows now rose also, and she looked them over, giving herself theairs of having spent her virgin life in judging men by their appearance.It was in vain I tugged her cloak, in vain I murmured the word "wait"under cover of my hand. She there and then engaged them, and bade themmake ready to set out at once. One more attempt I made to induce her toalter her resolve.
"Madonna," said I, "it is an unwise thing to go a-journeying by nightwith three unknown men, and of such villainous appearance. To me theyseem no better than bandits."
We were standing apart from the others, and she was sipping a cup ofspiced wine that the host had mulled for her. She looked at me with atolerant smile.
"They are poor men," said she. "Would you have them robed in velvet?"
"My quarrel is with their looks, Madonna, not their garments," Ianswered patiently. She laughed lightly, carelessly; even, I thought, atrifle scornfully.
"You are very fanciful," said she, then added--"but if so be that youare afraid to trust yourself in their company, why then, sir, I needbring you no farther out of the road that you were following when firstwe met."
Did the child think that some jealousy actuated me, and prompted me toinspire her with mistrust of my supplanters? She angered me. Yet now,more than ever was I resolved to journey with her. Leave her at themercy of those ruffians, whom in her ignorance she was mad enough totrust, I could not--not even had she whipped me. She was so young, sofrail and slight, that none but a craven could have found it in hisheart to have deserted her just then.
"If it please you Madonna," I answered smoothly, "I will make bold totravel on with you."
It may be that my even accents stung her; perhaps she read in them somemeasure of reproof of the ingratitude that lay in her altered bearingtowards me. Her eyes met mine across the table, and seemed to harden asshe looked. Her answer came in a vastly altered tone.
"Why, if you are bent that way, I shall be glad to have you availyourself of my escort, Boccadoro."
I had suffered the scorn now of her speech, now of her silence, forsome hours, but never was I so near to turning on her as at that moment;never so near to consigning her to the fate to which her headstrongfolly was compelling her. That she should take that tone with me!
The violence of the sudden choler I suppressed turned me pale under hersteady glance. So that, seeing it, her own cheeks flamed crimson, andher eyes fell, as if in token that she realised the meanness of herbearing. To some natures there can be nothing more odious than such arealisation, and of those, I think, was she; for she stamped her footin a sudden pet, and curtly asked the host why there was such delay withthe horses.
"They are at the door, Madonna," he protested, bowing as he spoke. "Andyour escort is already waiting in the saddle."
She turned and strode abruptly towards the threshold. Over her shouldershe called to me:
"If you come with us, Boccadoro, you had best be brisk."
"I follow, Madonna," said I, with a grim relish, "so soon as I have paidthe reckoning."
She halted and half turned, and I thought I saw a slight droop at thecorners of her mouth.
"You are keeping count of what I owe you?" she muttered.
"Aye, Madonna," I answered, more grimly still, "I am keeping count." AndI thought that my wits were vastly at fault if that account were not tobe greatly swelled ere Pesaro was reached. Haply, indeed, my own lifemight go to swell it. I almost took a relish in that thought. Perhapsthen, when I was stiff and cold--done to death in her service--thishandsome, ungrateful child would come to see how much discomfort I hadsuffered for her sake.
My thoughts still ran in that channel as we rode out of Pesaro, for Imisliked the way in which those knaves disposed themselves about us.In front went Madonna Paola; and immediately behind her, so that theirhorses' heads were on a level with her saddle-bow, one on each side,went two of those ruffians. The third, whom I had heard them callStefano, and who was the one who had made her the offer of theirservices, ambled at my side, a few paces in the rear, and sought to drawme into conversation, haply by way of throwing me off my guard.
Mistrust is a fine thing at times. "Forewarned is forearmed," says theproverb, and of all forewarnings there is none we are more likelyto heed than our own mistrust; for whereas we may leave unheeded thewarnings of a friend, we seldom leave unheeded the warnings of ourspirit.
And so, while my amiable and garrulous Ser Stefano engaged me inpleasant conversation--addressing me ever as Messer the Fool, since heknew me not by name--I wrapped my cloak about me, and under cover of itkept my fingers on the hilt of my stout Pistoja dagger, ready to drawand use it at the first sign of mischief. For that sign I was alleyes, and had I been Argus himself I could have kept no better watch.Meanwhile I plied my tongue and maintained as merry a conversation withSer Stefano as you could wish to hear, for he seemed a ready-wittedknave of a most humorous turn of fancy--God rest his rascally soul! Andso it came to pass that I did by him the very thing he sought to do byme; I lulled him into a careless confidence.
At last the sign I had been waiting for was given. I saw it as plainlyas if it had been meant for me; I believe I saw it before the man forwhom it was intended, and but for my fears concerning Madonna Paola, Icould have laughed outright at their clumsy assurance. The man who rodeon Madonna's right turned in his saddle and put up his hand as if tobeckon Stefano. I was regaling him with one of the choicest of MesserSacchetti's paradoxes, gurgling, myself, at the humour of the thing Itold. I paid no heed to the sign. I continued to expound my quip, asthough we had the night before us in which to make its elusive humourclear. But out of the tail of my eye I watched my good friend Stefano,and I saw his right hand steal round to the region of his back whereI knew his dagger to be slung. Yet was I patient. There should be noblundering through an excessive precipitancy. I talked on until I sawthat my suspicions were amply realised. I caught the cold gleam of steelin the hand that he brought back as stealthily as he had carried it tohis poniard. Sant' Iddio! What a coward he was for all his bulk, to goso slyly about the business of stabbing a poor, helpless, defencelessFool.
"But Sacchetti makes his point clear," I babbled on, most blandly;"almost as clear, as comprehensive and as penetrating as should be toyou the point of this." And with a swift movement I swung half-round inmy saddle, and sank my dagger to the hilt in his side even as he was inthe act of raising his.
He made no sound beyond the faintest gurgle--the first vowel of asuddenly choked word of wonder and surprise. He rocked a second in hissaddle, then crashed over, and lay with arms flung wide, like a hugeblack crucifix, upon the white ground. At the same moment a piercingscream broke from Madonna Paola.
I tremble still to think what might have been her fate had not thoseruffians who had laid hands on her fallen into the sorry error ofholding their single adversary too lightly. They heard the thud of thegallant Stefano's fall, and they never doubted that mine was the bodythat had gone down. They heard the rapid hoof-beats of my approach, yet,they never turned their heads to ascertain whether they might not bemistaken
in their firm conviction that it was Messer Stefano who wasjoining them.
I kissed my blade for luck, and drove it straight and full into the backof the fellow on Madonna Paola's right. He cried out, essayed to turnin his saddle that he might deal with this unlooked-for assailant, then,overcome, he lurched forward on to the withers of his horse and thencerolled over, and was dragged away at the gallop, his foot caught in astirrup, by the suddenly startled brute he rode.
So far things had gone with an amazing and delightful ease. If only thelast of them had had the amiability to be intimidated by my prowess andto have taken to his heels, I might have issued from that contest withthe unscathed glory of a very Mars. But from his throat there came, inanswer to his comrade's cry, a roar of rage. He fell back from Madonna,and wheeled his horse to come at me, drawing his sword as he advanced.
"Ride on, Madonna," I shouted. "I will rejoin you presently."
The fellow laughed, a mighty ugly and discomposing laugh, which may ormay not have shaken her faith in my promise to rejoin her. It certainlywent near to shaking mine. However, she displayed a presence of mindfull worthy of the haughtiness and ingratitude of which she had showedherself capable. She urged her mule forward, and, so, left him a clearroad to attack me. I made a mistake then that went mighty near tocosting me my life. I paused to twist my cloak about my left armintending to use it as a buckler. Had I but risked the arm itself, allunprotected, in that task, it may well be that it had served me better.As it was, my preparations were far from complete when already he wasupon me, with the result that the waving slack of my cloak was in my wayto hamper and retard the movements of my arm.
His sword leapt at me, a murderous blue-white flash of moonlit steel.I put up my half-swaddled arm to divert the thrust, holding my daggerready in my right, and gripping my mule with all the strength of mytwo knees. I caught the blade, it is true, and turned aside the strokeintended for my heart. But the slack of the cloak clung to the neck ofmy mule, so that I could not carry my arm far enough to send his pointclear of my body. It took me in the shoulder, stinging me, first icycold then burning hot, as it went tearing its way through. For just asecond was I daunted, more at knowing myself touched than by the actualpain. Then I flung my whole body forward to reach him at the closequarters to which he had come, and I buried my dagger in his breast,high up at the base of his dirty throat.
The force of the blow carried me forward, even as it bore him backward;and so, with his sword-blade in my shoulder, and my dagger where I hadplanted it, we hurtled over together and lay a second amidst what seemeda forest of equine legs. Then something smote me across the head, and Iwas knocked senseless.
Conceive me, if you can, a sorrier, or more useless thing. A senselessFool!