Part 29 (1/2)
Peals of laughter came upon his ear, as he followed one of Stefanello's gentlemen through a winding pa.s.sage that led to the princ.i.p.al chamber. The door was thrown open, and Adrian found himself in a rude hall, to which some appearance of hasty state and attempted comfort had been given. Costly arras imperfectly clothed the stone walls, and the rich seats and decorated tables, which the growing civilization of the northern cities of Italy had already introduced into the palaces of Italian n.o.bles, strangely contrasted the rough pavement, spread with heaps of armour negligently piled around. At the farther end of the apartment, Adrian shudderingly perceived, set in due and exact order, the implements of torture.
Stefanello Colonna, with two other Barons, indolently reclined on seats drawn around a table, in the recess of a deep cas.e.m.e.nt, from which might be still seen the same glorious landscape, bounded by the dim spires of Rome, which Hannibal and Pyrrhus had ascended that very citadel to survey!
Stefanello himself, in the first bloom of youth, bore already on his beardless countenance those traces usually the work of the pa.s.sions and vices of maturest manhood. His features were cast in the mould of the old Stephen's; in their clear, sharp, high-bred outline might be noticed that regular and graceful symmetry, which blood, in men as in animals, will sometimes entail through generations; but the features were wasted and meagre. His brows were knit in an eternal frown; his thin and bloodless lips wore that insolent contempt which seems so peculiarly cold and unlovely in early youth; and the deep and livid hollows round his eyes, spoke of habitual excess and premature exhaustion. By him sat (reconciled by hatred to one another) the hereditary foes of his race; the soft, but cunning and astute features of Luca di Savelli, contrasted with the broad frame and ferocious countenance of the Prince of the Orsini.
The young head of the Colonna rose with some cordiality to receive his cousin. ”Welcome,” he said, ”dear Adrian; you are arrived in time to a.s.sist us with your well-known military skill. Think you not we shall stand a long siege, if the insolent plebeian dare adventure it? You know our friends, the Orsini and the Savelli? Thanks to St. Peter, or Peter's delegate, we have now happily meaner throats to cut than those of each other!”
Thus saying, Stefanello again threw himself listlessly on his seat, and the shrill, woman's voice of Savelli took part in the dialogue.
”I would, n.o.ble Signor, that you had come a few hours earlier: we are still making merry at the recollection-he, he, he!”
”Ah, excellent,” cried Stefanello, joining in the laugh; ”our cousin has had a loss. Know Adrian, that this base fellow, whom the Pope has had the impudence to create Senator, dared but yesterday to send us a varlet, whom he called-by our Lady!-his amba.s.sador!”
”Would you could have seen his mantle, Signor Adrian!” chimed in the Savelli: ”purple velvet, as I live, decorated in gold, with the arms of Rome: we soon spoiled his finery.”
”What!” exclaimed Adrian, ”you did not break the laws of all n.o.bility and knighthood?-you offered no insult to a herald!”
”Herald, sayst thou?” cried Stefanello, frowning till his eyes were scarce visible. ”It is for Princes and Barons alone to employ heralds. An' I had had my will, I would have sent back the minion's head to the usurper.”
”What did ye then?” asked Adrian, coldly.
”Bade our swineherds dip the fellow in the ditch, and gave him a night's lodging in a dungeon to dry himself withal.”
”And this morning-he, he, he!” added the Savelli, ”we had him before us, and drew his teeth, one by one;-I would you could have heard the fellow mumble out for mercy!”
Adrian rose hastily, and struck the table fiercely with his gauntlet.
”Stefanello Colonna,” said he, colouring with n.o.ble rage, ”answer me: did you dare to inflict this indelible disgrace upon the name we jointly bear? Tell me, at least, that you protested against this foul treason to all the laws of civilization and of honour. You answer not. House of the Colonna, can such be thy representative!”
”To me these words!” said Stefanello, trembling with pa.s.sion. ”Beware! Methinks thou art the traitor, leagued perhaps with yon rascal mob. Well do I remember that thou, the betrothed of the Demagogue's sister, didst not join with my uncle and my father of old, but didst basely leave the city to her plebeian tyrant.”
”That did he!” said the fierce Orsini, approaching Adrian menacingly, while the gentle cowardice of Savelli sought in vain to pluck him back by the mantle-”that did he! and but for thy presence, Stefanello-”
”Coward and bl.u.s.terer!” interrupted Adrian, fairly beside himself with indignation and shame, and das.h.i.+ng his gauntlet in the very face of the advancing Orsini-”wouldst thou threaten one who has maintained, in every list of Europe, and against the stoutest Chivalry of the North, the honour of Rome, which thy deeds the while disgraced? By this gage, I spit upon and defy thee. With lance and with brand, on horse and on foot, I maintain against thee and all thy line, that thou art no knight to have thus maltreated, in thy strongholds, a peaceful and unarmed herald. Yes, even here, on the spot of thy disgrace, I challenge thee to arms!”
”To the court below! Follow me,” said Orsini, sullenly, and striding towards the threshold. ”What, ho there! my helmet and breast-plate!”
”Stay, n.o.ble Orsini,” said Stefanello. ”The insult offered to thee is my quarrel-mine was the deed-and against me speaks this degenerate scion of our line. Adrian di Castello-sometime called Colonna-surrender your sword: you are my prisoner!”
”Oh!” said Adrian, grinding his teeth, ”that my ancestral blood did not flow through thy veins-else-but enough! Me! your equal, and the favoured Knight of the Emperor, whose advent now brightens the frontiers of Italy!-me-you dare not detain. For your friends, I shall meet them yet perhaps, ere many days are over, where none shall separate our swords. Till then, remember, Orsini, that it is against no unpractised arm that thou wilt have to redeem thine honour!”
Adrian, his drawn sword in his hand, strode towards the door, and pa.s.sed the Orsini, who stood, lowering and irresolute, in the centre of the apartment.
Savelli whispered Stefanello. ”He says, 'Ere many days be past!' Be sure, dear Signor, that he goes to join Rienzi. Remember, the alliance he once sought with the Tribune's sister may be renewed. Beware of him! Ought he to leave the castle? The name of a Colonna, a.s.sociated with the mob, would distract and divide half our strength.”
”Fear me not,” returned Stefanello, with a malignant smile. ”Ere you spoke, I had determined!”
The young Colonna lifted the arras from the wall, opened a door, and pa.s.sed into a low hall, in which sate twenty mercenaries.
”Quick!” said he. ”Seize and disarm yon stranger in the green mantle-but slay him not. Bid the guard below find dungeons for his train. Quick! ere he reach the gate.”
Adrian had gained the open hall below-his train and his steed were in sight in the court-when suddenly the soldiery of the Colonna, rus.h.i.+ng through another pa.s.sage than that which he had pa.s.sed, surrounded and intercepted his retreat.
”Yield thee, Adrian di Castello,” cried Stefanello from the summit of the stairs; ”or your blood be on your own head.”
Three steps did Adrian make through the press, and three of his enemies fell beneath his sword. ”To the rescue!” he shouted to his band, and already those bold and daring troopers had gained the hall. Presently the alarum bell tolled loud-the court swarmed with soldiers. Oppressed by numbers, beat down rather than subdued, Adrian's little train was soon secured, and the flower of the Colonna, wounded, breathless, disarmed, but still uttering loud defiance, was a prisoner in the fortress of his kinsman.
Chapter 9.IV. The Position of the Senator.-The Work of Years.-The
Rewards of Ambition.
The indignation of Rienzi may readily be conceived, on the return of his herald mutilated and dishonoured. His temper, so naturally stern, was rendered yet more hard by the remembrance of his wrongs and trials; and the result which attended his overtures of conciliation to Stefanello Colonna stung him to the soul.
The bell of the Capitol tolled to arms within ten minutes after the return of the herald. The great gonfalon of Rome was unfurled on the highest tower; and the very evening after Adrian's arrest, the forces of the Senator, headed by Rienzi in person, were on the road to Palestrina. The troopers of the Barons had, however, made incursions as far as Tivoli with the supposed connivance of the inhabitants, and Rienzi halted at that beautiful spot to raise recruits, and receive the allegiance of the suspected, while his soldiers, with Arimbaldo and Brettone at their head, went in search of the marauders. The brothers of Montreal returned late at night with the intelligence, that the troopers of the Barons had secured themselves amidst the recesses of the wood of Pantano.
The red spot mounted to Rienzi's brow. He gazed hard at Brettone, who stated the news to him, and a natural suspicion shot across his mind.
”How!-escaped!” he said. ”Is it possible? Enough of such idle skirmishes with these lordly robbers. Will the hour ever come when I shall meet them hand to hand? Brettone,” and the brother of Montreal felt the dark eye of Rienzi pierce to his very heart; ”Brettone!” said he, with an abrupt change of voice, ”are your men to be trusted? Is there no connivance with the Barons?”
”How!” said Brettone, sullenly, but somewhat confused.
”How me no hows!” quoth the Tribune-Senator, fiercely. ”I know that thou art a valiant Captain of valiant men. Thou and thy brother Arimbaldo have served me well, and I have rewarded ye well! Have I not? Speak!”
”Senator,” answered Arimbaldo, taking up the word, ”you have kept your word to us. You have raised us to the highest rank your power could bestow, and this has amply atoned our humble services.”
”I am glad ye allow thus much,” said the Tribune.
Arimbaldo proceeded, somewhat more loftily, ”I trust, my Lord, you do not doubt us?”
”Arimbaldo,” replied Rienzi, in a voice of deep, but half-suppressed emotion; ”you are a lettered man, and you have seemed to share my projects for the regeneration of our common kind. You ought not to betray me. There is something in unison between us. But, chide me not, I am surrounded by treason, and the very air I breathe seems poison to my lips.”
There was a pathos mingled with Rienzi's words which touched the milder brother of Montreal. He bowed in silence. Rienzi surveyed him wistfully, and sighed. Then, changing the conversation, he spoke of their intended siege of Palestrina, and shortly afterwards retired to rest.
Left alone, the brothers regarded each other for some moments in silence. ”Brettone,” said Arimbaldo at length, in a whispered voice, ”my heart misgives me. I like not Walter's ambitious schemes. With our own countrymen we are frank and loyal, why play the traitor with this high-souled Roman?” (The anonymous biographer of Rienzi makes the following just remark: ”Sono li tedeschi, come discendon de la Alemagna, semplici, puri, senza fraude, come si allocano tra' taliani, diventano mastri coduti, viziosi, che sentono ogni malizia.”-”Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 16.) ”Tus.h.!.+” said Brettone. ”Our brother's hand of iron alone can sway this turbulent people; and if Rienzi be betrayed, so also are his enemies, the Barons. No more of this! I have tidings from Montreal; he will be in Rome in a few days.”
”And then?”
”Rienzi, weakened by the Barons (for he must not conquer)-the Barons, weakened by Rienzi-our Northmen seize the Capitol, and the soldiery, now scattered throughout Italy, will fly to the standard of the Great Captain. Montreal must be first Podesta, then King, of Rome.”
Arimbaldo moved restlessly in his seat, and the brethren conferred no more on their projects.