<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></SPAN>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
<h3>COUNT ANTONIO AND THE LADY OF RILANO.</h3>
<p>From the lips of Tommasino himself, who was cousin to Count Antonio,
greatly loved by him, and partaker of all his enterprises during the
time of his sojourn as an outlaw in the hills, this, the story of the
Lady of Rilano, came to my venerable brother in Christ, Niccolo; and the
same Niccolo, being a very old man, told it to me, so that I know that
the story is true and every part of it, and tread here not on the
doubtful ground of legend, but on the firm rock of the word of honest
men. There is indeed one thing doubtful, Tommasino himself being unable
to know the verity of it; yet that one thing is of small moment, for it
is no more than whether the lady came first to Duke Valentine, offering
her aid, or whether the Duke, who since the affair of the sacred bones
had been ever active in laying schemes against Antonio, cast his eyes on
the lady, and, perceiving that she was very fair and likely to serve his
turn, sent for her, and persuaded her by gifts and by the promise of a
great marriage to take the task in hand.</p>
<p>Be that as it may, it is certain that in the fourth year of Count
Antonio's outlawry, the Lady Venusta came from Rilano, where she dwelt,
and talked alone with the Duke in his cabinet; so that men (and women
with greater urgency) asked what His Highness did to take such a one
into his counsels; for he had himself forbidden her to live in the city
and constrained her to abide in her house at Rilano, by reason of
reports touching her fair fame. Nor did she then stay in Firmola, but,
having had audience of the Duke, returned straightway to Rilano, and for
the space of three weeks rested there; and the Duke told nothing to his
lords of what had passed between him and the lady, while the Count
Antonio and his friends knew not so much as that the Duke had held
conference with the lady; for great penalties had been decreed against
any man who sent word to Antonio of what passed in Firmola, and the
pikemen kept strict guard on all who left or entered the city, so that
it was rather like a town besieged than the chief place of a peaceful
realm.</p>
<p>Now at this time, considering that his hiding-place was too well known
to the Lord Lorenzo and certain of the Duke's Guard, Count Antonio
descended from the hills by night, and, having crossed the plain,
carrying all his equipment with him, mounted again into the heights of
Mount Agnino and pitched his camp in and about a certain cave, which is
protected on two sides by high rocks and on the third by the steep banks
of a river, and can be approached by one path only. This cave was known
to the Duke, but he could not force it without great loss, so that
Antonio was well nigh as safe as when his hiding-place had been unknown;
and yet he was nearer by half to the city, and but seven miles as a bird
flies from the village of Rilano where the Lady Venusta dwelt; although
to one who travelled by the only path that a man could go upright on
his feet the distance was hard on eleven miles. But no other place was
so near, and from Rilano Antonio drew the better part of the provisions
and stores of which he had need, procuring them secretly from the
people, who were very strictly enjoined by the Duke to furnish him with
nothing under pain of forfeiture of all their goods.</p>
<p>Yet one day, when the man they called Bena and a dozen more rode in the
evening through Rilano, returning towards the cave, the maid-servant of
Venusta met them, and, with her, men bearing a great cask of fine wine,
and the maid-servant said to Bena, "My mistress bids you drink; for good
men should not suffer thirst."</p>
<p>But Bena answered her, asking, "Do you know who we are?"</p>
<p>"Aye, I know, and my lady knows," said the girl. "But my lady says that
if she must live at Rilano, then she will do what she pleases in
Rilano."</p>
<p>Bena and his men looked at one another, for they knew of His Highness's
proclamation, but the day having been hot, they being weary, the wine
seeming good, and a woman knowing her own business best, at last they
drank heartily, and, rendering much thanks, rode on and told Tommasino
what had been done. And Tommasino having told Antonio, the Count was
angry with Bena, saying that his gluttony would bring trouble on the
Lady Venusta.</p>
<p>"She should not tempt a man," said Bena sullenly.</p>
<p>All these things happened on the second day of the week; and on the
fourth, towards evening, as Antonio and Tommasino sat in front of the
cave, they saw coming towards them one of the band named Luigi, a big
fellow who had done good service and was also a merry jovial man that
took the lead in good-fellowship. And in his arms Luigi bore the Lady
Venusta. Her gown was dishevelled and torn, and the velvet shoes on her
feet were cut almost to shreds, and she lay back in Luigi's arms, pale
and exhausted. Luigi came and set her down gently before Antonio,
saying, "My lord, three miles from here, in the steepest and roughest
part of the way, I found this lady sunk on the ground and
half-swooning: when I raised her and asked how she came where she was,
and in such a plight, she could answer nothing save, 'Count Antonio!
Carry me to Count Antonio!' So I have brought her in obedience to her
request."</p>
<p>As Luigi ended, Venusta opened her eyes, and, rising to her knees, held
out her hands in supplication, saying, "Protect me, my lord, protect me.
For the Duke has sent me word that to-morrow night he will burn my house
and all that it holds, and will take me and lodge me in prison, and so
use me there that I may know what befalls those who give aid to
traitors. And all this comes upon me, my lord, because I gave a draught
of wine to your men when they were thirsty."</p>
<p>"I feared this thing," said Antonio, "and deeply I grieve at it. But I
am loth to go in open war against the Duke; moreover in the plain he
would be too strong for me. What then can I do? For here is no place in
which a lady, the more if she be alone and unattended, can be lodged
with seemliness."</p>
<p>"If the choice be between this and a prison——" said Venusta with a
faint sorrowful smile.</p>
<p>"Yet it might be that I could convey you beyond His Highness's power,"
pursued Antonio. "But I fear you could not travel far to-night."</p>
<p>"Indeed I am weary even to death," moaned Venusta.</p>
<p>"There is nothing for it but that to-night at least she rest here," said
Antonio to Tommasino.</p>
<p>Tommasino frowned. "When woman comes in," said he behind the screen of
his hand, "safety flies out."</p>
<p>"Better fly safety than courtesy and kindness, cousin," said Count
Antonio, and Tommasino ceased to dissuade him, although he was uneasy
concerning the coming of Venusta.</p>
<p>That night, therefore, all made their camp outside, and gave the cave to
Venusta for her use, having made a curtain of green boughs across its
mouth. But again the next day Venusta was too sick for travel; nay, she
seemed very sick, and she prayed Luigi to go to Rilano and seek a
physician; and Luigi, Antonio having granted him permission, went, and
returned saying that no physician dared come in face of His Highness's
proclamation; but the truth was that Luigi was in the pay of Venusta and
of the Duke, and had sought by his journey not a physician, but means of
informing the Duke how Venusta had sped, and of seeking counsel from him
as to what should next be done. And that day and for four days more
Venusta abode in the cave, protesting that she could not travel; and
Antonio used her with great courtesy, above all when he heard that the
Duke, having stayed to muster all his force for fear of Antonio, had at
length appointed the next day for the burning of her house at Rilano and
the carrying off of all her goods. These tidings he gave her, and though
he spoke gently, she fell at once into great distress, declaring that
she had not believed the Duke would carry out his purpose, and weeping
for her jewels and prized possessions which were in the house.</p>
<p>Now Count Antonio, though no true man could call him fool, had yet a
simplicity nobler it may be than the suspicious wisdom of those who,
reading other hearts by their own, count all men rogues and all women
wanton: and when he saw the lady weeping for the trinkets and her loved
toys and trifles, he said, "Nay, though I cannot meet the Duke face to
face, yet I will ride now and come there before him, and bring what you
value most from the house."</p>
<p>"You will be taken," said she, and she gazed at him with timid admiring
eyes. "I had rather a thousand times lose the jewels than that you
should run into danger, my lord. For I owe to you liberty, and perhaps
life."</p>
<p>"I will leave Tommasino to guard you and ride at once," and Antonio rose
to his feet, smiling at her for her foolish fears.</p>
<p>Then a thing that seemed strange happened. For Antonio gave a sudden cry
of pain. And behold, he had set his foot on the point of a dagger that
was on the ground near to the Lady Venusta; and the dagger ran deep into
his foot, for it was resting on a stone and the point sloped upwards, so
that he trod full and with all his weight on the point; and he sank back
on the ground with the dagger in his foot. How came the dagger there?
How came it to rest against the stone? None could tell then, though it
seems plain to him that considers now. None then thought that the lady
who fled to Antonio as though he were her lover, and lavished tears and
sighs on him, had placed it there. Nor that honest Luigi, who made such
moan of his carelessness in dropping his poniard, had taken more pains
over the losing of his weapon than most men over the preservation of
theirs. Luigi cursed himself, and the lady cried out on fate; and Count
Antonio consoled both of them, saying that the wound would soon be well,
and that it was too light a matter for a lady to dim her bright eyes for
the sake of it.</p>
<p>Yet light as the matter was, it was enough for Venusta's purpose and for
the scheme of Duke Valentine. For Count Antonio could neither mount his
horse nor go afoot to Venusta's house in Rilano; and, if the jewels were
to be saved and the lady's tears dried (mightily, she declared with
pretty self-reproach, was she ashamed to think of the jewels beside
Antonio's hurt, but yet they were dear to her), then Tommasino must go
in his place to Rilano.</p>
<p>"And take all save Bena and two more," said Antonio. "For the Duke will
not come here if he goes to Rilano."</p>
<p>"I," said Bena, "am neither nurse nor physician nor woman. Let Martolo
stay; he says there is already too much blood on his conscience; and let
me go, for there is not so much as I could bear on mine, and maybe we
shall have a chance of an encounter with the foreguard of the Duke."</p>
<p>But Venusta said to Antonio, "Let both of these men go, and let Luigi
stay. For he is a clever fellow, and will aid me in tending your wound."</p>
<p>"So be it," said Antonio. "Let Luigi and the two youngest stay; and do
the rest of you go, and return as speedily as you may. And the Lady
Venusta shall, of her great goodness, dress my wound, which pains me
more than such a trifle should."</p>
<p>Thus the whole band, saving Luigi and two youths, rode off early in the
morning with Tommasino, their intent being to reach Rilano and get clear
of it again before the Duke came thither from the city: and Venusta
sent no message to the Duke, seeing that all had fallen out most
prosperously and as had been arranged between them. For the Duke was not
in truth minded to go at all to Rilano; but at earliest dawn, before
Tommasino had set forth, the Lord Lorenzo left the city with a hundred
pikemen; more he would not take, fearing to be delayed if his troop were
too large; and he made a great circuit, avoiding Rilano and the country
adjacent to it. So that by mid-day Tommasino was come with
thirty-and-four men (the whole strength of the band except the three
with Antonio) to Rilano, and, meeting with no resistance, entered
Venusta's house, and took all that was precious in it, and loaded their
horses with the rich tapestries and the choicest of the furnishings; and
then, having regaled themselves with good cheer, started in the
afternoon to ride back to the cave, Tommasino and Bena grumbling to one
another because they had chanced on no fighting, but not daring to tarry
by reason of Antonio's orders.</p>
<p>But their lamentations were without need; for when they came to the pass
of Mount Agnino, there at the entrance of the road which led up to the
cave, by the side of the river, was encamped a force of eighty pikemen
under the Lieutenant of the Guard. Thus skilfully had the Lord Lorenzo
performed his duty, and cut off Tommasino and his company from all
access to the cave; and now he himself was gone with twenty men up the
mountain path, to take Antonio according to the scheme of the Duke and
the Lady Venusta. But Bena and Tommasino were sore aghast, and said to
one another, "There is treachery. What are we to do?" For the eighty of
the Duke's men were posted strongly, and it was a great hazard to attack
them. Yet this risk they would have run, for they were ready rather to
die than to sit there idle while Antonio was taken; and in all
likelihood they would have died, had the Lieutenant obeyed the orders
which Lorenzo had given him and rested where he was, covered by the hill
and the river. But the Lieutenant was a young man, of hot temper and
impetuous, and to his mistaken pride it seemed as though it were
cowardice for eighty men to shrink from attacking thirty-and-five, and
for the Duke's Guards to play for advantage in a contest with a band of
robbers. Moreover Tommasino's men taunted his men, crying to them to
come down and fight like men in the open. Therefore, counting on a sure
victory and the pardon it would gain, about three o'clock in the
afternoon he cried, "Let us have at these rascals!" and to Tommasino's
great joy, his troop remounted their horses and made ready to charge
from their position. Then Tommasino said, "We are all ready to face the
enemy for my lord and cousin's sake. But I have need now of those who
will run away for his sake."</p>
<p>Then he laid his plans that when the Lieutenant's troop charged, his men
should not stand their ground. And five men he placed on one extremity
of his line, Bena at their head; and four others with himself he posted
at the other extremity; also he spread out his line very wide, so that
it stretched on either side beyond the line of the Lieutenant. And he
bade the twenty-and-five in the centre not abide the onset, but turn and
flee at a gallop, trusting to the speed of their horses for escape. And
he made them fling away all that they had brought from the Lady
Venusta's house, that they might ride the lighter.</p>
<p>"And I pray God," said he, "that you will escape alive; but if you do
not, it is only what your oath to my lord constrains you to. But you and
I, Bena, with our men, will ride, not back towards the plain, but on
towards the hills, and it may be that we shall thus get ahead of the
Lieutenant; and once we are ahead of him in the hilly ground, he will
not catch us before we come to the cave."</p>
<p>"Unless," began Bena, "there be another party——"</p>
<p>"Hist!" said Tommasino, and he whispered to Bena, "They will fear if
they hear all."</p>
<p>Then the Duke's men came forth, and it fell out as Tommasino had
planned; for the body of the Duke's men, when they saw Tommasino's rank
broken and his band flying, set up a great shout of scorn and triumph,
and dug spurs into their horses and pursued the runaways. And the
runaways rode at their top speed, and, having come nearly to Rilano
without being caught, they were three of them overtaken and captured by
the well at the entrance to the village; but the rest, wheeling to the
right, dashed across the plain, making for Antonio's old hiding-place;
and, having lost two more of their number whose horses failed, and
having slain four of the Guard who pursued incautiously ahead of the
rest, they reached the spurs of the hills, and there scattered, every
man by himself, and found refuge, some in the woods, some in shepherds'
huts; so they came off with their lives. But the men with Tommasino and
Bena had ridden straight for the hill-road, and had passed the
Lieutenant before he apprehended Tommasino's scheme. Then he cried aloud
to his men, and eight of them, hearing him, checked their horses, but
could not understand what he desired of them till he cried aloud again,
and pointed with his hand towards where the ten, Tommasino leading and
Bena in the rear, had gained the hill-road and were riding up it as
swiftly as their horses could mount. Then the Lieutenant, cursing his
own folly, gathered them, and they rode after Tommasino and Bena.</p>
<p>"Be of good heart," said the Lieutenant. "They are between us and the
company of my Lord Lorenzo."</p>
<p>Yet though he said this, his mind was not at ease; for the horses of his
men, being unaccustomed to the hills, could not mount the road as did
the sure-footed mountain-horses ridden by Tommasino's company, and the
space widened between them; and at last Tommasino's company disappeared
from sight, at the point where the track turned sharp to the left, round
a great jutting rock that stood across the way and left room for but
three men to ride abreast between river and rock. Then the Lieutenant
drew rein and took counsel with his men, for he feared that Tommasino
would wait for him behind the jutting rock and dash out on his flank as
he rode round. Therefore for a while he considered, and a while longer
he allowed for the breathing of the horses; and then with great caution
rode on towards the jutting rock, which lay about the half of a mile
from him. And when he came near it, he and his men heard a voice cry,
"Quiet, quiet! They are close now!"</p>
<p>"They will dash at us as we go round," said the Lieutenant.</p>
<p>"And we can go no more than three together," said one of the guards.</p>
<p>"Are you all ready?" said the voice behind the cliff, in accents that
but just reached round the rock. "Not a sound, for your lives!" Yet a
sound there was, as of a jingling bit, and then again an angry, "Curse
you, you clumsy fool, be still." And then all was still.</p>
<p>"They are ready for us now," whispered a guard, with an uneasy smile.</p>
<p>"I will go," said the Lieutenant. "Which two of you will lead the way
with me?"</p>
<p>But the men grumbled, saying, "It is the way to death that you ask us to
lead, sir."</p>
<p>Then the Lieutenant drew his men back, and as they retreated they made a
noise great hoping to make Tommasino think they were gone. And, having
thus withdrawn some five hundred paces, they rested in utter quiet for
half an hour. And it was then late afternoon. And the Lieutenant said,
"I will go first alone, and in all likelihood I shall be slain; but do
you follow immediately after me and avenge my death." And this they,
being ashamed for their first refusal, promised to do. Then the
Lieutenant rode softly forward till he came within twenty yards of the
rock, and he clapped spurs to his horse and shouted, and, followed close
by his men crying, "For God and our Duke!" charged round the jutting
rock.</p>
<p>And behold, on the other side of it was not a man! And of Tommasino and
his company naught was to be seen—for they had used the last hour to
put a great distance between them and their pursuers—save that away,
far up the road, in the waning light of the sun, was to be dimly
perceived the figure of a man on horseback, who waved his hat to them
and, turning, was in an instant lost to view. And this man was Bena,
who, by himself and without a blow, had held the passage of the jutting
rock for hard on an hour, and thus given time to Tommasino to ride on
and come upon the rear of Lorenzo's company before the Lieutenant and
his men could hem them in on the other side.</p>
<p>Thus had the day worn to evening, and long had the day seemed to
Antonio, who sat before the mouth of the cave, with Venusta by his side.
All day they had sat thus alone, for Luigi and the two youths had gone
to set snares in the wood behind the cave—or such was the pretext Luigi
made; and Antonio had let them go, charging them to keep in earshot. As
the long day passed, Antonio, seeking to entertain the lady and find
amusement for her through the hours, began to recount to her all that he
had done, how he had seized the Sacred Bones, the manner of his
difference with the Abbot of St. Prisian, and much else. But of the
killing of Duke Paul he would not speak; nor did he speak of his love
for Lucia till Venusta pressed him, making parade of great sympathy for
him. But when he had set his tongue to the task, he grew eloquent, his
eyes gleamed and his cheek flushed, and he spoke in the low reverent
voice that a true lover uses when he speaks of his mistress, as though
his wonted accents were too common and mean for her name. And Venusta
sat listening, casting now and again a look at him out of her deep
eyes, and finding his eyes never on hers but filled with the fancied
vision of Lucia. And at last, growing impatient with him, she broke out
petulantly, "Is this girl, then, different from all others, that you
speak of her as though she were a goddess?"</p>
<p>"I would not have spoken of her but that you pressed me," laughed
Antonio. "Yet in my eyes she is a goddess, as every maid should be to
her lover."</p>
<p>Venusta caught a twig from the ground and broke it sharp across. "Boys'
talk!" said she, and flung the broken twig away.</p>
<p>Antonio laughed gently, and leant back, resting on the rock. "May be,"
said he. "Yet is there none who talks boys' talk for you?"</p>
<p>"I love men," said she, "not boys. And if I were a man I think I would
love a woman, not a goddess."</p>
<p>"It is Heaven's chance, I doubt not," said Antonio, laughing again. "Had
you and I chanced to love, we should not have quarrelled with the boys'
talk nor at the name of goddess."</p>
<p>She flushed suddenly and bit her lip, but she answered in raillery,
"Indeed had it been so, a marvel of a lover I should have had! For you
have not seen your mistress for many, many months, and yet you are
faithful to her. Are you not, my lord?"</p>
<p>"Small credit not to wander where you love to rest," said Antonio.</p>
<p>"And yet youth goes in waiting, and delights missed come not again,"
said she, leaning towards him with a light in her eyes, and scanning his
fair hair and bronzed cheek, his broad shoulders and the sinewy hands
that nursed his knee.</p>
<p>"It may well be that they will not come to me," he said. "For the Duke
has a halter ready for my throat, if by force or guile he can take me."</p>
<p>She started at these words, searching his face; but he was calm and
innocent of any hidden meaning. She forced a laugh as she said, twisting
a curl of her hair round her finger, "The more reason to waste no time,
my Lord Antonio."</p>
<p>Antonio shook his head and said lightly, "But I think he cannot take me
by force, and I know of no man in all the Duchy that would betray me to
a shameful death."</p>
<p>"And of no woman?" she asked, glancing at him from under drooping
lashes.</p>
<p>"No, for I have wronged none; and women are not cruel."</p>
<p>"Yet there may be some, my lord, who call you cruel and therefore would
be cruel in vengeance. A lover faithful as you can have but one friend
among women."</p>
<p>"I know of none such," he laughed. "And surely the vengeance would be
too great for the offence, if there were such."</p>
<p>"Nay, I know not that," said Venusta, frowning.</p>
<p>"I would trust myself to any woman, even though the Duke offered her
great rewards, aye, as readily as I put faith in Lucia herself, or in
you."</p>
<p>"You couple me with her?"</p>
<p>"In that matter most readily," said Antonio.</p>
<p>"But in nothing else?" she asked, flushing again in anger, for still his
eyes were distant, and he turned them never on her.</p>
<p>"You must pardon me," he said. "My eyes are blinded."</p>
<p>For a moment she sat silent; then she said in a low voice, "But blind
eyes have learned to see before now, my lord."</p>
<p>Then Antonio set his eyes on her; and now she could not meet them, but
turned her burning face away. For her soul was in tumult, and she knew
not now whether she loved or hated him, nor whether she would save or
still betray him. And the trust he had in her gnawed her guilty heart.
So that a sudden passion seized her, and she caught Antonio by the arm,
crying, "But if a woman held your life in her hand and asked your love
as its price, Antonio?"</p>
<p>"Such a thing could not be," said he, wondering.</p>
<p>"Nay, but it might. And if it were?"</p>
<p>And Antonio, marvelling more and more at her vehemence, answered, "Love
is dear, and honour is dear; but we of Monte Velluto hold life of no
great price."</p>
<p>"Yet it is a fearful and shameful thing to hang from the city wall."</p>
<p>"There are worse things," said he. "But indeed I count not to do it;"
and he laughed again.</p>
<p>Venusta sprang to her feet and paced the space between the cave and the
river bank with restless steps. Once she flung her hands above her head
and clasped them; then, holding them clasped in front of her, she stood
by Antonio and bent over him, till her hair, falling forward as she
stooped, brushed his forehead and mingled with his fair locks; and she
breathed softly his name, "Antonio, Antonio!" At this he looked up with
a great start, stretching up his hand as though to check her; but he
said nothing. And she, suddenly sobbing, fell on her knees by him; yet,
as suddenly, she ceased to sob, and a smile came on her lips, and she
leant towards him, saying again, "Antonio."</p>
<p>"I pray you, I pray you," said he, seeking to stay her courteously.</p>
<p>Then, careless of her secret, she flashed out in wrath, "Ah, you scorn
me, my lord! You care nothing for me. I am dirt to you. Yet I hold your
life in my hand!" And then in an instant she grew again softened,
beseeching, "Am I so hideous, dear lord, that death is better than my
love? For if you will love me, I will save you."</p>
<p>"I know not how my life is in your hands," said he, glad to catch at
that and leave the rest of what Venusta said.</p>
<p>"Is there any path that leads higher up into the mountains?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Yes, there is one," said he; "but if need came now, I could not climb
it with this wounded foot of mine."</p>
<p>"Luigi and the young men could carry you?"</p>
<p>"Yes; but what need? Tommasino and the band will return soon."</p>
<p>But she caught him by the hand, crying, "Rise, rise; call the men and
let them carry you. Come, there is no time for lingering. And if I save
you, my Lord Antonio——?" And a yearning question sounded in her voice.</p>
<p>"If you save me a thousand times, I can do nothing else than pray you
spare me what is more painful than death to me," said he, looking away
from her and being himself in great confusion.</p>
<p>"Come, come," she cried. "Call them! Perhaps some day——! Call them,
Antonio."</p>
<p>But as she spoke, before Antonio could call, there came a loud cry from
the wood behind the cave, the cry of a man in some great strait.
Antonio's hand flew to his sword, and he rose to his feet, and stood
leaning on his sword. Then he cried aloud to Luigi. And in a moment
Luigi and one of the youths came running; and Luigi, casting one glance
at Venusta, said breathlessly, "My lord, Jacopo's foot slipped, and the
poor fellow has fallen down a precipice thirty feet deep on to the rocks
below, and we fear that he is sore hurt."</p>
<p>Venusta sprang a step forward, for she suspected (what the truth was)
that Luigi himself had aided the slipping of Jacopo's foot by a sudden
lurch against him; but she said nothing, and Antonio bade Luigi go quick
and look after Jacopo, and take the other youth with him.</p>
<p>"But we shall leave you unguarded, my lord," said Luigi with a cunning
show of solicitude.</p>
<p>"I am in no present danger, and the youth may be dying. Go speedily,"
said Antonio.</p>
<p>Luigi turned, and with the other youth (Tommasino told Niccolo his name,
but Niccolo had forgotten it) rushed off; and even as he went, Venusta
cried, "It is a lie! You yourself brought it about!" But Luigi did not
hear her, and Antonio, left again alone, asked her, "What mean you?"</p>
<p>"Nay, I mean naught," said she, affrighted, and, when faced by his
inquiring eyes, not daring to confess her treachery.</p>
<p>"I hope the lad is not killed," said Antonio.</p>
<p>"I care not for a thousand lads. Think of yourself, my lord!" And
planning to rouse Antonio without betraying herself, she said, "I
distrust this man Luigi. Is he faithful? The Duke can offer great
rewards."</p>
<p>"He has served me well. I have no reason to mistrust him," said Antonio.</p>
<p>"Ah, you trust every one!" she cried in passion and in scorn of his
simplicity. "You trust Luigi! You trust me!"</p>
<p>"Why not?" said he. "But indeed now I have no choice. For they cannot
carry both Jacopo and me up the path."</p>
<p>"Jacopo! You would stay for Jacopo?" she flashed out fiercely.</p>
<p>"If nothing else, yet my oath would bind me not to leave him while he
lives. For we of the band are all bound to one another as brethren by an
oath, and it would look ill if I, for whom they all have given much,
were the first to break the oath. So here I am, and here I must stay,"
and Antonio ended smiling, and, his foot hurting him while he stood, sat
down again and rested against the rock.</p>
<p>It was now late, and evening fell; and Venusta knew that the Duke's men
should soon be upon them. And she sat down near Antonio and buried her
face in her hands, and she wept. For Antonio had so won on her by his
honour and his gentleness, and most of all by his loyal clinging to the
poor boy Jacopo, that she could not think of her treachery without
loathing and horror. Yet she dared not tell him; that now seemed worse
to her than death. And while they sat thus, Luigi came and told Antonio
that the youth was sore hurt and that they could not lift him.</p>
<p>"Then stay by him," said Antonio. "I need nothing."</p>
<p>And Luigi bowed, and, turning, went back to the other youth, and bade
him stay by Jacopo, while he went by Antonio's orders to seek for some
one to aid in carrying him. "I may chance," said he, "to find some
shepherds." So he went, not to seek shepherds, but to seek the Duke's
men, and tell them that they might safely come upon Antonio, for he had
now none to guard him.</p>
<p>Then Antonio said to Venusta, "Why do you sit and weep?"</p>
<p>For he thought that she wept because he had scorned the love in which
her words declared her to hold him, and he was sorry. But she made no
answer.</p>
<p>And he went on, "I pray you, do not weep. For think not that I am blind
to your beauty or to the sweet kindness which you have bestowed upon me.
And in all things that I may, I will truly and faithfully serve you to
my death."</p>
<p>Then she raised her head and she said, "That will not be long, Antonio."</p>
<p>"I know not, but for so long as it may be," said he.</p>
<p>"It will not be long," she said again, and burst into quick passionate
sobs, that shook her and left her at last breathless and exhausted.</p>
<p>Antonio looked at her for a while and said, "There is something that you
do not tell me. Yet if it be anything that causes you pain or shame, you
may tell me as readily as you would any man. For I am not a hard man,
and I have many things on my own conscience that forbid me to judge
harshly of another."</p>
<p>She raised her head and she lifted her hand into the air. The stillness
of evening had fallen, and a light wind blew up from the plain. There
seemed no sound save from the flowing of the river and the gentle
rustle of the trees.</p>
<p>"Hark!" said she. "Hark! hark!" and with every repetition of the word
her voice rose till it ended in a cry of terror.</p>
<p>Antonio set his hand to his ear and listened intently. "It is the sound
of men's feet on the rocky path," said he, smiling. "Tommasino returns,
and I doubt not that he brings your jewels with him. Will you not give
him a smiling welcome? Aye, and to me also your smiles would be welcome.
For your weeping melts my heart, and the dimness of your eyes is like a
cloud across the sun."</p>
<p>Venusta's sobs had ceased, and she looked at Antonio with a face calm,
white, and set. "It is not the Lord Tommasino," she said. "The men you
hear are the Duke's men;" and then and there she told him the whole. Yet
she spoke as though neither he nor any other were there, but as though
she rehearsed for her own ear some lesson that she had learnt; so
lifeless and monotonous was her voice as it related the shameful thing.
And at last she ended saying, "Thus in an hour you will be dead, or
captured and held for a worse death. It is I who have done it." And she
bent her head again to meet her hands; yet she did not cover her face,
but rested her chin on her hands, and her eyes were fixed immovably on
Count Antonio.</p>
<p>For the space of a minute or two he sat silent. Then he said, "I fear,
then, that Tommasino and the rest have had a fight against great odds.
But they are stout fellows, Tommasino, and old Bena, and the rest. I
hope it is well with them." Then, after a pause, he went on, "Yes, the
sound of the steps comes nearer. They will be here before long now. But
I had not thought it of Luigi. The rogue! I trust they will not find the
two lads."</p>
<p>Venusta sat silent, waiting for him to reproach her. He read her thought
on her face, and he smiled at her, and said to her, "Go and meet them;
or go, if you will, away up the path. For you should not be here when
the end comes."</p>
<p>Then she flung herself at his feet, asking forgiveness, but finding no
word for her prayer. "Aye, aye," said he gently. "But of God you must
ask it in prayers and good deeds." And he dragged himself to the cave
and set himself with his back against the rock and his face towards the
path along which the Duke's men must come. And he called again to
Venusta, saying, "I pray you, do not stay here." But she heeded him not,
but sat again on the ground, her chin resting on her hands and her eyes
on his.</p>
<p>"Hark, they are near now!" said he. And he looked round at sky and
trees, and at the rippling swift river, and at the long dark shadows of
the hills; and he listened to the faint sounds of the birds and living
creatures in the wood. And a great lust of life came over him, and for a
moment his lip quivered and his head fell; he was very loth to die. Yet
soon he smiled again and raised his head, and so leant easily against
the rock.</p>
<p>Now the Lord Lorenzo and his twenty men, conceiving that the Lieutenant
of the Guard could without difficulty hold Tommasino, had come along
leisurely, desiring to be in good order and not weary when they met
Antonio; for they feared him. And thus it was evening when they came
near the cave and halted a moment to make their plans; and here Luigi
met them and told them how Antonio was alone and unguarded. But Lorenzo
desired, if it were possible, to take Antonio alive and carry him alive
to the Duke, knowing that thus he would win His Highness's greatest
thanks. And while they talked of how this might best be effected, they
in their turn heard the sound of men coming up the road, this sound
being made by Tommasino, Bena, and their party, who had ridden as fast
as the weariness of their horses let them. But because they had ridden
fast, their horses were foundered, and they had dismounted, and were now
coming on foot; and Lorenzo heard them coming just as he also had
decided to go forward on foot, and had caused the horses to be led into
the wood and tethered there. And he asked, "Who are these?"</p>
<p>Then one of his men, a skilled woodsman and hunter, listening, answered,
"They are short of a dozen, my lord. They must be come with tidings from
the Lieutenant of the Guard. For they would be more if the Lieutenant
came himself, or if by chance Tommasino's band had eluded him."</p>
<p>"Come," said Lorenzo. "The capture of the Count must be ours, not
theirs. Let us go forward without delay."</p>
<p>Thus Lorenzo and his men pushed on; and but the half of a mile behind
came Tommasino and his; and again, three or four miles behind them, came
the Lieutenant and his; and all these companies were pressing on towards
the cave where Antonio and Venusta were. But Tommasino's men still
marched the quicker, and they gained on Lorenzo, while the Lieutenant
did not gain on them; yet by reason of the unceasing windings of the
way, as it twisted round rocks and skirted precipices, they did not come
in sight of Lorenzo, nor did he see them; indeed he thought now of
nothing but of coming first on Antonio, and of securing the glory of
taking him before the Lieutenant came up. And Tommasino, drawing near
the cave, gave his men orders to walk very silently; for he hoped to
surprise Lorenzo unawares. Thus, as the sun sank out of sight, Lorenzo
came to the cave and to the open space between it and the river, and
beheld Antonio standing with his back against the rock and his drawn
sword in his hand, and Venusta crouched on the ground some paces away.
When Venusta saw Lorenzo, she gave a sharp stifled cry, but did not
move: Antonio smiled, and drew himself to his full height.</p>
<p>"Your tricks have served you well, my lord," he said. "Here I am alone
and crippled."</p>
<p>"Then yield yourself," said Lorenzo. "We are twenty to one."</p>
<p>"I will not yield," said Antonio. "I can die here as well as at Firmola,
and a thrust is better than a noose."</p>
<p>Then Lorenzo, being a gentleman of high spirit and courage, waved his
men back; and they stood still ten paces off, watching intently as
Lorenzo advanced towards Antonio, for, though Antonio was lamed, yet
they looked to see fine fighting. And Lorenzo advanced towards Antonio,
and said again, "Yield yourself, my lord."</p>
<p>"I will not yield," said Antonio again.</p>
<p>At this instant the woodsman who was with Lorenzo raised his hand to his
ear and listened for a moment; but Tommasino came softly, and the
woodsman was deceived. "It is but leaves," he said, and turned again to
watch Lorenzo. And that lord now sprang fiercely on Antonio and the
swords crossed. And as they crossed, Venusta crawled on her knees
nearer, and as the swords played, nearer still she came, none noticing
her, till at length she was within three yards of Lorenzo. He now was
pressing Antonio hard, for the Count was in great pain from his foot,
and as often as he was compelled to rest his weight on it, it came near
to failing him, nor could he follow up any advantage he might gain
against Lorenzo. Thus passed three or four minutes in the encounter. And
the woodsman cried, "Hark! Here comes the Lieutenant. Quick, my lord, or
you lose half the glory!" Then Lorenzo sprang afresh on Antonio. Yet as
he sprang, another sprang also; and as that other sprang there rose a
shout from Lorenzo's men; yet they did not rush to aid in the capture of
Antonio, but turned themselves round. For Bena, with Tommasino at his
heels, had shot among them like a stone hurled from a catapult; and this
man Bena was a great fighter; and now he was all aflame with love and
fear for Count Antonio. And he crashed through their ranks, and split
the head of the woodsman with the heavy sword he carried; and thus he
came to Lorenzo. But there in amazement he stood still. For Antonio and
Lorenzo had dropped their points and fought no more; but both stood with
their eyes on the slim figure of a girl that lay on the ground between
them; and blood was pouring from a wound in her breast, and she moaned
softly. And while the rest fought fiercely, these three stood looking on
the girl; and Lorenzo looked also on his sword, which was dyed three
inches up the blade. For as he thrust most fiercely at Antonio, Venusta
had sprung at him with the spring of a young tiger, a dagger flashing in
her hand, and in the instinct that sudden danger brings he had turned
his blade against her; and the point of it was deep in her breast before
he drew it back with horror and a cry of "Heavens! I have killed her!"
And she fell full on the ground at the feet of Count Antonio, who had
stood motionless in astonishment, with his sword in rest.</p>
<p>Now the stillness and secrecy of Tommasino's approach had served him
well, for he had come upon Lorenzo's men when they had no thought of an
enemy, but stood crowded together, shoulder to shoulder; and several of
them were slain and more hurt before they could use their swords to any
purpose; but Tommasino's men had fallen on them with great fury, and had
broken through them even as Bena had, and, getting above them, were now,
step by step, driving them down the path, and formed a rampart between
them and the three who stood by the dying lady. And when Bena perceived
this advantage, wasting little thought on Venusta (he was a hard man,
this Bena), he cried to Antonio, "Leave him to me, my lord. We have him
sure!" and in an instant he would have sprung at Lorenzo, who, finding
himself between two enemies, knew that his state was perilous, but was
yet minded to defend himself. But Antonio suddenly cried in a loud
voice, "Stay!" and arrested by his voice, all stood still, Lorenzo
where he was, Tommasino and his men at the top of the path, and the
Guards just below them. And Antonio, leaning on his sword, stepped a
pace forward and said to Lorenzo, "My lord, the dice have fallen against
you. But I would not fight over this lady's body. The truth of all she
did I know, yet she has at the last died that I might live. See, my men
are between you and your men."</p>
<p>"It is the hazard of war," said Lorenzo.</p>
<p>"Aye," said Bena. "He had killed you, my Lord Antonio, had we not come."</p>
<p>But Antonio pointed to the body of Venusta. And she, at the instant,
moaned again, and turned on her back, and gasped, and died: yet just
before she died, her eyes sought Antonio's eyes, and he dropped suddenly
on his knees beside her, and took her hand and kissed her brow. And they
saw that she smiled in dying.</p>
<p>Then Lorenzo brushed a hand across his eyes and said to Antonio, "Suffer
me to go back with my men, and for a week there shall be a truce between
us."</p>
<p>"Let it be so," said Antonio.</p>
<p>And Bena smiled, for he knew that the Lieutenant of the Guard must now
be near at hand. But this he did not tell Antonio, fearing that Antonio
would tell Lorenzo. Then Lorenzo, with uncovered head, passed through
the rank of Tommasino's men; and he took up his dead, and with them went
down the path, leaving Venusta where she lay. And when he had gone two
miles, he met the Lieutenant and his party, pressing on. Yet when the
two companies had joined, they were no more than seventeen whole and
sound men, so many of Lorenzo's had Tommasino's party slain or hurt.
Therefore Lorenzo in his heart was not much grieved at the truce, for it
had been hard with seventeen to force the path to the cave against ten,
all unhurt and sound. And, having sorely chidden the Lieutenant of the
Guard, he rode back, and rested that night in Venusta's house at Rilano,
and the next day rode on to Firmola, and told Duke Valentine how the
expedition had sped.</p>
<p>Then said Duke Valentine, "Force I have tried, and guile I have tried,
and yet this man is delivered from my hand. Fortune fights for him;"
and in chagrin and displeasure he went into his cabinet, and spoke to no
man, and showed himself nowhere in the city, for the space of three
days. But the townsmen, though they dared make no display, rejoiced that
Antonio was safe, and the more because the Duke had laid so cunning and
treacherous a snare for him.</p>
<p>Now Antonio, Tommasino, and the rest, when they were left alone, stood
round the corpse of Venusta, and Antonio told them briefly all the story
of her treachery as she herself had told it to him.</p>
<p>And when he had finished the tale, Bena cried, "She has deserved her
death."</p>
<p>But Tommasino stooped down and composed her limbs and her raiment gently
with his hand, and when he rose up his eyes were dim, and he said, "Yes;"
but at the last she gave her life for Antonio. And though she deserved
death, it grieves me that she is gone to her account thus, without
confession, pardon, or the rites of Holy Church.</p>
<p>Then Antonio said, "Behold, her death is her confession, and the same
should be her pardon. And for the rites——"</p>
<p>He bent over her, and he dipped the tip of his finger in the lady's
blood that had flowed from her wounded breast; and lightly with his
finger-tip he signed the Cross in her own blood on her brow. "That,"
said he, "shall be her Unction; and I think, Tommasino, it will serve."</p>
<p>Thus the Lady Venusta died, and they carried her body down to Rilano and
buried it there. And in after-days a tomb was raised over her, which may
still be seen. But Count Antonio, being rejoined by such of his company
as had escaped by flight from the pursuit of the Duke's troop, abode
still in the hills, and albeit that his force was less, yet by the dread
of his name and of the deeds that he had done he still defied the power
of the Duke, and was not brought to submission.</p>
<p>And whether the poor youth whom Luigi pushed over the precipice lived or
died, Niccolo knew not. But Luigi, having entered the service of the
Duke, played false to him also, and, being convicted on sure evidence of
taking to himself certain moneys that the Duke had charged him to
distribute to the poor, was hanged in the great square a year to the
very day after Venusta died; whereat let him grieve who will; I grieve
not.</p>
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