The Honour of Savelli: A Romance. Levett Yeats Sidney
me a pike! And hold the torches so!"
With a sharp point of the pike he quickly cleared away the turf, and, stooping down, lifted up from the hole he exposed, a small brown valise, which had been concealed in the earth. The interest was now intense. Every one crowded round Braccio. Even the vigilance of the guards over me completely relaxed. I felt a touch on my shoulder, and, looking back, saw Hawkwood.
"Would you like to go?" he whispered rapidly. "My horse is ready saddled-you know where to find him."
I thanked him with a look; but shook my head, and the giant fell back.
"Shall I break it open, excellency?" and Braccio held the bag out to D'Alegres.
"My master has the key," put in Tarbes; "I know no more."
"I-the key!" I exclaimed. "Villain, the bag is not mine!"
"It bears your arms, however;" Braccio pointed to a little metal plate on which they were distinctly engraved.
"You must, I am afraid, submit to the further indignity of being searched," said D'Alegres.
There was no hope in resistance and I endured this. Braccio himself searched me, and almost as soon as he began, pulled from an inner pocket of my vest a small key, attached to a fine gold chain.
"Here is the noble knight's key," he exclaimed, "and see; it fits exactly!" He turned it in the lock, opened the valise, and emptied the contents out on a rough camp table. A low murmur went up, for amongst the small heap of articles was Hawkwood's leather bag, and madame's bracelet, whilst something rolled a little on one side, and fell off softly to the turf. A soldier picked it up, and placed it face upwards on the table-the lost medallion.
One by one D'Alegres held up the articles sadly, and I looked round in my agony on the faces of those who but an hour ago were my friends. They had all shrunk back from me, and I was alone within the circle of the guards. D'Entrangues stood with folded arms, and a smile on his lips, and Tarbes glanced from side to side, like an ape seeking chance for escape. I looked towards Hawkwood, but even his face was hard and set.
"I do not see the duchess' rubies here," said D'Alegres.
"I am prepared to produce them to-morrow," replied D'Entrangues; "in the meantime, I trust you have sufficient proof?"
"Give M. d'Entrangues his sword. You need not fight this man," D'Alegres added, pointing to me, "even if he challenges you. Were you a French subject," he said to me, "I would hang you in your boots; as it is I will submit the case to the duke. D'Entrangues, I hold you to your word about the rubies. Provost, see that your prisoner is carefully guarded. You will answer for him with your life."
"Prisoner, your excellency! There are two."
"I have restored M. d'Entrangues his sword."
"There is still another," and the provost pointed to Tarbes.
"Pah!" exclaimed D'Alegres, "hang him out of hand-come, gentlemen!"
One by one they went out. Not another look did they give me. I heard the tread of feet, and the sound of voices in eager conversation, dying out in the distance. I stood as in a dream. Tarbes had been dragged away speechless, and half fainting. When he was outside he found voice, and I heard him alternately cursing D'Alegres, and D'Entrangues and screaming for mercy. Braccio touched me on the arm.
"Come, signore," he said, "you, at any rate, have a few hours left."
CHAPTER II.
RUIN
I started at the man's words, and my rage and despair may be imagined, when I saw that he proposed to bind me, a noble, like any thief! From this I hoped to escape by bringing on death, and, on a sudden, hit the guard next to me on the face, with all my force. Down he went like an ox, and I made a rush to the tent door, little doubting that I should be cut down, and put out of my misery. But they were too quick. I was one, and they were many. In a hand turn I was tripped up, my wrists securely fastened behind my back, and any further resistance on my part impossible. The man whom I felled, scrambled up, and attempted to brain me with the butt of his pike as I went down; but Braccio struck him senseless with the hilt of his sword, and this time he lay in a huddled heap, quiet enough.
I besought Braccio to give me my parole, swearing on the faith of a gentleman, on the honour of a Savelli, that I would not attempt escape, and would go with him quietly, if I were but free from the ignominy of the cords that bound me.
"Shut the cage door, keep your bird," he laughed brutally, "I have to answer for you to-morrow, and I weigh the faith of a gentleman, and the honour-God save the mark-of a Savelli, as that," he snapped his fingers, "when it comes to a consideration of Braccio Fortebraccio's head. So your knighthood must even go as you are, with my love-knots on you. Here, two of you, take charge of this tent, and see after Arnulf there-I never thought his skull so thin-march!"
And in this manner was I led out, two men in front of me, two behind, one on either hand, all with their weapons ready, whilst the provost himself brought up the rear, with his drawn sword in one hand and a lighted torch in the other. Not that light was needed, for the moon had risen, and was in its full. I believe, however, that Braccio held the torch, so that the additional light might the more clearly show who his prisoner was, and I hung down my head as, with quick steps, we marched to the military prison.
"Qui vive là," the challenge rang out crisply, and on the instant the provost replied, "France and Tremouille."
"Pass on," and the sentry, one of Bucicault's arquebusiers, looked at us curiously as we went by. And now, to add to my shame, we met, face to face, a group of late revellers returning to the camp.
"Diable!" called out a gay voice, "our respectable provost is at work I see. What have you got there, Braccio?"
I shuddered, for I recognised Bellegarde, a young noble of the Franche Compte, who had come to seek glory in the Italian war.
"Close up, men-another of my strayed lambs brought back to the fold, Viscompte-pardon me-it is late, and I must hurry on."
But Bellegarde was merry with wine. "Not till you have drunk our health," he laughed, barring the way with his drawn rapier, as he added, "Lowenthal here has a skin of wine from the Rhineland, have a pull at it, man, and let us see the prisoner."
"Blitzen! Der brisoner first, he will hang pefore der herr brovost," and the half-drunk Lanzknecht thrust his wine-skin towards me.
"Gentlemen-gentlemen! have you a care! See here, Viscompte," and Braccio whispered to Bellegarde.
"My God!" said the latter; and then hastily, "Come on, Lowenthal! Let them go."
"Let der brisoner drink. Would you debrife a boor man of his liquor?" replied Lowenthal, and to hide my face, I seized the skin, and raised it to my lips. Even Braccio held the torch away, and Von Lowenthal failed to recognise me in the half-light. My throat was red-hot with thirst, and sick as I was with shame, I drank greedily, and handed the wine-skin back to the German.
"Blitzen!" he said, giving it a shake, "you drink like an honest man. Now, herr brovost, a health to Germany, in honest German wine. What! No! Then drink to der halter, man, and Lowenthal will knight you," swaying to and fro, he attempted to draw his sword.
Matters were at a crisis, for Braccio was not to be trifled with any longer. At this juncture, Bellegarde and the others with him again intervened, and dragged Von Lowenthal away. The provost instantly pressed forwards with a hurried good-night. We did not go so fast, however, as not to perceive, from the noises behind us, that the Lanzknecht had subsided to earth, and was apparently abandoned there, with his wine-skin, by his companions. The sound of his voice, engaged in a drunken monologue, reached us.
"Der rascal Braccio, der knight of der noose und halter. I will gif him der accolade. I-" But we lost the rest as we hurried on, the guards smiling to themselves, and Braccio very ill-tempered.
In a few paces we passed D'Alegres' headquarters, and through an open window, I saw half-a-dozen of my late companions playing at dice, and heard Hawkwood's bass calling the mains. A few steps more brought us to our point, a fortified wing of the Villa Accolti itself, and Braccio, thrusting