Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi


Again and again had the captains of his army assured the indignant
Senator that the fortress was impregnable, and that time and money were
idly wasted upon the siege. Rienzi knew better, but he concealed his
thoughts.

He now summoned to his tent the brothers of Provence, and announced
to them his intention of returning instantly to Rome. "The mercenaries
shall continue the siege under our Lieutenant, and you, with my Roman
Legion, shall accompany me. Your brother, Sir Walter, and I, both want
your presence; we have affairs to arrange between us. After a few days I
shall raise recruits in the city, and return."

This was what the brothers desired; they approved, with evident joy, the
Senator's proposition.

Rienzi next sent for the lieutenant of his bodyguard, the same Riccardo
Annibaldi whom the reader will remember in the earlier part of this
work, as the antagonist of Montreal's lance. This young man--one of
the few nobles who espoused the cause of the Senator--had evinced great
courage and military ability, and promised fair (should Fate spare his
life (It appears that this was the same Annibaldi who was afterwards
slain in an affray:--Petrarch lauds his valour and laments his fate.))
to become one of the best Captains of his time.

"Dear Annibaldi," said Rienzi; "at length I can fulfil the project
on which we have privately conferred. I take with me to Rome the two
Provencal Captains--I leave you chief of the army. Palestrina will yield
now--eh!--ha, ha, ha!--Palestrina will yield now!"

"By my right hand, I think so, Senator," replied Annibaldi. "These
foreigners have hitherto only stirred up quarrels amongst ourselves, and
if not cowards are certainly traitors!"

"Hush, hush, hush! Traitors! The learned Arimbaldo, the brave Brettone,
traitors! Fie on it! No, no; they are very excellent, honourable men,
but not lucky in the camp;--not lucky in the camp;--better speed to them
in the city! And now to business."

The Senator then detailed to Annibaldi the plan he himself had formed
for taking the town, and the military skill of Annibaldi at once
recognised its feasibility.

With his Roman troop, and Montreal's brothers, one at either hand,
Rienzi then departed to Rome.

That night Montreal gave a banquet to Pandulfo di Guido, and to certain
of the principal citizens, whom one by one he had already sounded, and
found hollow at heart to the cause of the Senator.

Pandulfo sate at the right hand of the Knight of St. John, and Montreal
lavished upon him the most courteous attentions.

"Pledge me in this--it is from the Vale of Chiana, near Monte Pulciano,"
said Montreal. "I think I have heard bookmen say (you know, Signor
Pandulfo, we ought all to be bookmen now!) that the site was renowned of
old. In truth, the wine hath a racy flavour."

"I hear," said Bruttini, one of the lesser Barons, (a stanch friend
to the Colonna,) "that in this respect the innkeeper's son has put his
book-learning to some use: he knows every place where the wine grows
richest."

"What! the Senator is turned wine-bibber!" said Montreal, quaffing a
vast goblet full; "that must unfit him for business--'tis a pity."

"Verily, yes," said Pandulfo; "a man at the head of a state should be
temperate--I never drink wine unmixed."

"Ah," whispered Montreal, "if your calm good sense ruled Rome,
then, indeed, the metropolis of Italy might taste of peace. Signor
Vivaldi,"--and the host turned towards a wealthy draper,--"these
disturbances are bad for trade."

"Very, very!" groaned the draper.

"The Barons are your best customers," quoth the minor noble.

"Much, much!" said the draper.

"'Tis a pity that they are thus roughly expelled," said Montreal, in a
melancholy tone. "Would it not be possible, if the Senator (I drink
his health) were less rash--less zealous, rather,--to unite free
institutions with the return of the Barons?--such should be the task of
a truly wise statesman!"

"It surely might be possible," returned Vivaldi; "the Savelli alone
spend more with me than all the rest of Rome."

"I know not if it be possible," said Bruttini; "but I do know that it is
an outrage to all decorum that an innkeeper's son should be enabled to
make a solitude of the palaces of Rome."

"It certainly seems to indicate too vulgar a desire of mob favour," said
Montreal. "However, I trust we shall harmonize all these differences.
Rienzi, perhaps,--nay, doubtless, means well!"

"I would," said Vivaldi, who had received his cue, "that we might form
a mixed constitution--Plebeians and Patricians, each in their separate
order."

"But," said Montreal, gravely, "so new an experiment would demand great
physical force."

"Why, true; but we might call in an umpire--a foreigner who had no
interest in either faction--who might protect the new Buono Stato; a
Podesta, as we have done before--Brancaleone, for instance. How well
and wisely he ruled! that was a golden age for Rome. A Podesta for
ever!--that's my theory."

"You need not seek far for the president of your council," said
Montreal, smiling at Pandulfo; "a citizen at once popular, well-born,
and wealthy, may be found at my right hand."

Pandulfo hemmed, and coloured.

Montreal proceeded. "A committee of trades might furnish an honourable
employment to Signor Vivaldi; and the treatment of all foreign
affairs--the employment of armies, &c., might be left to the Barons,
with a more open competition, Signor di Bruttini, to the Barons of
the second order than has hitherto been conceded to their birth and
importance. Sirs, will you taste the Malvoisie?"

"Still," said Vivaldi, after a pause--(Vivaldi anticipated at least the
supplying with cloth the whole of the Grand Company)--"still, such a
moderate and well-digested constitution would never be acceded to by
Rienzi."

"Why should it? what need of Rienzi?" exclaimed Bruttini. "Rienzi may
take another trip to Bohemia."

"Gently, gently," said Montreal; "I do not despair. All open violence
against the Senator would strengthen his power. No, no, humble
him--admit the Barons, and then insist on your own terms. Between the
two factions you might then establish a fitting balance. And in order
to keep your new constitution from the encroachment of either extreme,
there are warriors and knights, too, who for a certain rank in the
great city of Rome would maintain horse and foot at its service.
We Ultra-Montanes are often harshly judged; we are wanderers and
Ishmaelites, solely because we have no honourable place of rest. Now, if
I--"

"Ay, if you, noble Montreal!" said Vivaldi.

The company remained hushed in breathless attention, when suddenly there
was heard--deep, solemn, muffled,--the great bell of the Capitol!

"Hark!" said Vivaldi, the bell: "It tolls for execution: an unwonted
hour!"

"Sure, the Senator has not returned!" exclaimed Pandulfo di Guido,
turning pale.

"No, no," quoth Bruttini, "it is but a robber, caught two nights ago in
Romagna. I heard that he was to die tonight."

At the word "robber," Montreal changed countenance slightly. The wine
circulated--the bell continued to toll--its suddenness over, it ceased
to alarm. Conversation flowed again.

"What were you saying, Sir Knight?" said Vivaldi.

"Why, let me think on't;--oh, speaking of the necessity of supporting a
new state by force, I said that if I--"

"Ah, that was it!" quoth Bruttini, thumping the table.

"If I were summoned to your aid--summoned, mind ye, and absolved by the
Pope's Legate of my former sins--(they weigh heavily on me, gentles)--I
would myself guard your city from foreign foe and civil disturbance,
with my gallant swordsmen. Not a Roman citizen should contribute a
'danaro' to the cost."

"Viva Fra Moreale!" cried Bruttini; and the shout was echoed by all the
boon companions.

"Enough for me," continued Montreal, "to expiate my offences. Ye know,
gentlemen, my order is vowed to God and the Church--a warrior-monk am I!
Enough for me to expiate my offences, I say, in the defence of the Holy
City. Yet I, too, have my private and more earthly views,--who is above
them? I--the bell changes its note!"

"It is but the change that preludes execution--the poor robber is about
to die!"

Montreal crossed himself, and resumed:--"I am a knight and a noble,"
said he, proudly; "the profession I have followed is that of arms;
but--I will not disguise it--mine equals have regarded me as one who has
stained his scutcheon by too reckless a pursuit of glory and of gain.
I wish to reconcile myself with my order--to purchase a new name--to
vindicate myself to the Grand Master and the Pontiff. I have had hints,
gentles,--hints, that I might best promote my interest by restoring
order to the Papal metropolis. The Legate Albornoz (here is his letter)
recommends me to keep watch upon the Senator."

"Surely," interrupted Pandulfo, "I hear steps below."

"The mob going to the robber's execution," said Bruttini; "proceed, Sir
Knight!"

"And," continued Montreal, surveying his audience before he proceeded
farther, "what think ye--(I do but ask your opinion, wiser than
mine)--what think ye, as a fitting precaution against too arbitrary a
power in the Senator--what think ye of the return of the Colonna, and
the bold Barons of Palestrina?"

"Here's to their health!" cried Vivaldi, rising.

As by a sudden impulse, the company rose. "To the health of the besieged
Barons!" was shouted aloud.

"Next, what if--(I do but humbly suggest)--what if you gave the Senator
a colleague?--it is no affront to him. It was but as yesterday that
one of the Colonna, who was Senator, received a colleague in Bertoldo
Orsini."

"A most wise precaution," cried Vivaldi. "And where a colleague like
Pandulfo di Guido?"

"Viva Pandulfo di Guido!" cried the guests, and again their goblets were
drained to the bottom.

"And if in this I can assist ye by fair words with the Senator, (ye
know he owes me monies--my brothers have served him), command Walter de
Montreal."

"And if fair words fail?" said Vivaldi.

"The Grand Company--(heed me, ye are the counsellors)--the Grand Company
is accustomed to forced marches!"

"Viva Fra Moreale!" cried Bruttini and Vivaldi, simultaneously. "A
health to all, my friends;" continued Bruttini; "a health to the Barons,
Rome's old friends; to Pandulfo di Guido, the Senator's new colleague,
and to Fra Moreale, Rome's new Podesta."

"The bell has ceased," said Vivaldi, putting down his goblet.

"Heaven have mercy on the robber!" added Bruttini.

Scarce had he spoken, ere three taps were heard at the door--the guests
looked at each other in dumb amaze.

"New guests!" said Montreal. "I asked some trusty friends to join us
this evening. By my faith they are welcome! Enter!"

The door opened slowly; three by three entered, in complete armour, the
guards of the Senator. On they marched, regular and speechless. They
surrounded the festive board--they filled the spacious hall, and the
lights of the banquet were reflected upon their corselets as on a wall
of steel.

Not a syllable was uttered by the feasters, they were as if turned to
stone. Presently the guards gave way, and Rienzi himself appeared. He
approached the table, and folding his arms, turned his gaze deliberately
from guest to guest, till at last, his eyes rested on Montreal, who had
also risen, and who alone of the party had recovered the amaze of the
moment.

And there, as these two men, each so celebrated, so proud, able, and
ambitious, stood, front to front--it was literally as if the rival
Spirits of Force and Intellect, Order and Strife, of the Falchion and
the Fasces--the Antagonist Principles by which empires are ruled and
empires overthrown, had met together, incarnate and opposed. They
stood, both silent,--as if fascinated by each other's gaze,--loftier in
stature, and nobler in presence than all around.

Montreal spoke first, and with a forced smile.

"Senator of Rome!--dare I believe that my poor banquet tempts thee, and
may I trust that these armed men are a graceful compliment to one to
whom arms have been a pastime?"

Rienzi answered not, but waved his hand to his guards. Montreal was
seized on the instant. Again he surveyed the guests--as a bird from the
rattle-snake,--shrunk Pandulfo di Guido, trembling, motionless, aghast,
from the glittering eye of the Senator. Slowly Rienzi raised his
fatal hand towards the unhappy citizen--Pandulfo saw,--felt his
doom,--shrieked,--and fell senseless in the arms of the soldiers.

One other and rapid glance cast the Senator round the board, and then,
with a disdainful smile, as if anxious for no meaner prey, turned away.
Not a breath had hitherto passed his lips--all had been dumb
show--and his grim silence had imparted a more freezing terror to his
unguessed-for apparition. Only, when he reached the door, he turned
back, gazed upon the Knight of St. John's bold and undaunted face,
and said, almost in a whisper, "Walter de Montreal!--you heard the
death-knell!"



Chapter 10.IV. The Sentence of Walter de Montreal.

In silence the Captain of the Grand Company was borne to the prison of
the Capitol. In the same building lodged the rivals for the government
of Rome; the one occupied the prison, the other the palace. The guards
forebore the ceremony of fetters, and leaving a lamp on the table,
Montreal perceived he was not alone,--his brothers had preceded him.

"Ye are happily met," said the Knight of St. John; "we have passed
together pleasanter nights than this is likely to be."

"Can you jest, Walter?" said Arimbaldo, half-weeping. "Know you not that
our doom is fixed? Death scowls upon us."

"Death!" repeated Montreal, and for the first time his countenance
changed; perhaps for the first time in his life he felt the thrill and
agony of fear.

"Death!" he repeated again. "Impossible! He dare not, Brettone; the
soldiers, the Northmen!--they will mutiny, they will pluck us back from
the grasp of the headsman!"

"Cast from you so vain a hope," said Brettone sullenly; "the soldiers
are encamped at Palestrina."

"How! Dolt--fool! Came you then to Rome alone! Are we alone with this
dread man?"

"You are the dolt! Why came you hither?" answered the brother.

"Why, indeed! but that I knew thou wast the Captain of the army;
and--but thou said'st right--the folly is mine, to have played against
the crafty Tribune so unequal a brain as thine. Enough! Reproaches are
idle. When were ye arrested?"

"At dusk--the instant we entered the gates of Rome. Rienzi entered
privately."

"Humph! What can he know against me? Who can have betrayed me? My
secretaries are tried--all trustworthy--except that youth, and he so
seemingly zealous--that Angelo Villani!"

"Villani! Angelo Villani!" cried the brothers in a breath. "Hast thou
confided aught to him?"

"Why, I fear he must have seen--at least in part--my correspondence with
you, and with the Barons--he was among my scribes. Know you aught of
him?"

"Walter, Heaven hath demented you!" returned Brettone. "Angelo Villani
is the favourite menial of the Senator."

"Those eyes deceived me, then," muttered Montreal, solemnly and
shuddering; "and, as if her ghost had returned to earth, God smites me
from the grave!"

There was a long silence. At length Montreal, whose bold and sanguine
temper was never long clouded, spoke again.

"Are the Senator's coffers full?--But that is impossible."

"Bare as a Dominican's."

"We are saved, then. He shall name his price for our heads. Money must
be more useful to him than blood."

And as if with that thought all further meditation were rendered
unnecessary, Montreal doffed his mantle, uttered a short prayer, and
flung himself on a pallet in a corner of the cell.

"I have slept on worse beds," said the Knight, stretching himself; and
in a few minutes he was fast asleep.

The brothers listened to his deep-drawn, but regular breathing, with
envy and wonder, but they were in no mood to converse. Still and
speechless, they sate like statues beside the sleeper. Time passed
on, and the first cold air of the hour that succeeds to midnight crept
through the bars of their cell. The bolts crashed, the door opened,
six men-at-arms entered, passed the brothers, and one of them touched
Montreal.

"Ha!" said he, still sleeping, but turning round. "Ha!" said he, in the
soft Provencal tongue, "sweet Adeline, we will not rise yet--it is so
long since we met!"

"What says he?" muttered the guard, shaking Montreal roughly. The Knight
sprang up at once, and his hand grasped the head of his bed as for his
sword. He stared round bewildered, rubbed his eyes, and then gazing on
the guard, became alive to the present.

"Ye are early risers in the Capitol," said he. "What want ye of me?"

"It waits you!"

"It! What?" said Montreal.

"The rack!" replied the soldier, with a malignant scowl.

The Great Captain said not a word. He looked for one moment at the six
swordsmen, as if measuring his single strength against theirs. His eye
then wandered round the room. The rudest bar of iron would have been
dearer to him than he had ever yet found the proofest steel of Milan. He
completed his survey with a sigh, threw his mantle over his shoulders,
nodded at his brethren, and followed the guard.

In a hall of the Capitol, hung with the ominous silk of white rays on a
blood-red ground, sate Rienzi and his councillors. Across a recess was
drawn a black curtain.

"Walter de Montreal," said a small man at the foot of the table, "Knight
of the illustrious order of St. John of Jerusalem--"

"And Captain of the Grand Company!" added the prisoner, in a firm voice.

"You stand accused of divers counts: robbery and murder, in Tuscany,
Romagna, and Apulia--"

"For robbery and murder, brave men, and belted Knights," said Montreal,
drawing himself up, "would use the words 'war and victory.' To those
charges I plead guilty! Proceed."

"You are next accused of treasonable conspiracy against the liberties
of Rome for the restoration of the proscribed Barons--and of traitorous
correspondence with Stefanello Colonna at Palestrina."

"My accuser?"

"Step forth, Angelo Villani!"

"You are my betrayer, then?" said Montreal steadily. "I deserved this.
I beseech you, Senator of Rome, let this young man retire. I confess my
correspondence with the Colonna, and my desire to restore the Barons."

Rienzi motioned to Villani, who bowed and withdrew.

"There rests only then for you, Walter de Montreal, to relate, fully and
faithfully, the details of your conspiracy."

"That is impossible," replied Montreal, carelessly.

"And why?"

"Because, doing as I please with my own life, I will not betray the
lives of others."

"Bethink thee--thou wouldst have betrayed the life of thy judge!"

"Not betrayed--thou didst not trust me."

"The law, Walter de Montreal, hath sharp inquisitors--behold!"

The black curtain was drawn aside, and the eye of Montreal rested on the
executioner and the rack! His proud breast heaved indignantly.

"Senator of Rome," said he, "these instruments are for serfs and
villeins. I have been a warrior and a leader; life and death have been
in my hands--I have used them as I listed; but to mine equal and my foe,
I never proffered the insult of the rack."

"Sir Walter de Montreal," returned the Senator, gravely, but with some
courteous respect, "your answer is that which rises naturally to the
lips of brave men. But learn from me, whom fortune hath made thy judge,
that no more for serf and villein, than for knight and noble, are such
instruments the engines of law, or the tests of truth. I yielded but to
the desire of these reverend councillors, to test thy nerves. But, wert
thou the meanest peasant of the Campagna, before my judgment-seat
thou needst not apprehend the torture. Walter de Montreal, amongst the
Princes of Italy thou hast known, amongst the Roman Barons thou wouldst
have aided, is there one who could make that boast?"

"I desired only," said Montreal, with some hesitation, "to unite the
Barons with thee; nor did I intrigue against thy life!"

Rienzi frowned--"Enough," he said, hastily. "Knight of St. John, I know
thy secret projects, subterfuge and evasion neither befit nor avail
thee. If thou didst not intrigue against my life, thou didst intrigue
against the life of Rome. Thou hast but one favour left to demand on
earth, it is the manner of thy death."

Montreal's lip worked convulsively.

"Senator," said he, in a low voice, "may I crave audience with thee
alone for one minute?"

The councillors looked up.

"My Lord," whispered the eldest of them, "doubtless he hath concealed
weapons--trust him not."

"Prisoner," returned Rienzi, after a moment's pause; "if thou seekest
for mercy thy request is idle, and before my coadjutors I have no
secret; speak out what thou hast to say!"

"Yet listen to me," said the prisoner, folding his arms; "it concerns
not my life, but Rome's welfare."

"Then," said Rienzi, in an altered tone, "thy request is granted. Thou
mayst add to thy guilt the design of the assassin, but for Rome I would
dare greater danger."

So saying, he motioned to the councillors, who slowly withdrew by
the door which had admitted Villani, while the guards retired to the
farthest extremity of the hall.

"Now, Walter de Montreal, be brief, for thy time is short."

"Senator," said Montreal, "my life can but little profit you; men will
say that you destroyed your creditor in order to cancel your debt. Fix a
sum upon my life, estimate it at the price of a monarch's; every florin
shall be paid to you, and your treasury will be filled for five years
to come. If the 'Buono Stato' depends on your government, what I have
asked, your solicitude for Rome will not permit you to refuse."

"You mistake me, bold robber," said Rienzi, sternly; "your treason I
could guard against, and therefore forgive; your ambition, never! Mark
me, I know you! Place your hand on your heart and say whether, could
we change places, you, as Rienzi, would suffer all the gold of earth
to purchase the life of Walter de Montreal? For men's reading of my
conduct, that must I bear; for mine own reading, mine eyes must be
purged from corruption. I am answerable to God for the trust of Rome.
And Rome trembles while the head of the Grand Company lives in the
plotting brain and the daring heart of Walter de Montreal. Man--wealthy,
great, and subtle as you are, your hours are numbered; with the rise of
the sun you die!"

Montreal's eyes, fixed upon the Senator's face, saw hope was over; his
pride and his fortitude returned to him.

"We have wasted words," said he. "I played for a great stake, I have
lost, and must pay the forfeit! I am prepared. On the threshold of the
Unknown World, the dark spirit of prophecy rushes into us. Lord Senator,
I go before thee to announce--that in Heaven or in Hell--ere many days
be over, room must be given to one mightier than I am!"

As he spoke, his form dilated, his eye glared; and Rienzi, cowering as
never had he cowered before, shrunk back, and shaded his face with his
hand.

"The manner of your death?" he asked, in a hollow voice.

"The axe: it is that which befits knight and warrior. For thee, Senator,
Fate hath a less noble death."

"Robber be dumb!" cried Rienzi, passionately; "Guards, bear back the
prisoner. At sunrise, Montreal--"

"Sets the sun of the scourge of Italy," said the Knight, bitterly. "Be
it so. One request more; the Knights of St. John claim affinity with the
Augustine order; grant me an Augustine confessor."

"It is granted; and in return for thy denunciations, I, who can give
thee no earthly mercy, will implore the Judge of all for pardon to thy
soul!"

"Senator, I have done with man's mediation. My brethren? Their deaths
are not necessary to thy safety or thy revenge!"

Rienzi mused a moment: "No," said he, "dangerous tools they were, but
without the workman they may rust unharming. They served me once, too.
Prisoner, their lives are spared."



Chapter 10.V. The Discovery.

The Council was broken up--Rienzi hastened to his own apartments.
Meeting Villani by the way, he pressed the youth's hand affectionately.
"You have saved Rome and me from great peril," said he; "the saints
reward you!" Without tarrying for Villani's answer, he hurried on. Nina,
anxious and perturbed, awaited him in their chamber.

"Not a-bed yet?" said he: "fie, Nina, even thy beauty will not stand
these vigils."

"I could not rest till I had seen thee. I hear (all Rome has heard it
ere this) that thou hast seized Walter de Montreal, and that he will
perish by the headsman."

"The first robber that ever died so brave a death," returned Rienzi,
slowly unrobing himself.

"Cola, I have never crossed your schemes,--your policy, even by a
suggestion. Enough for me to triumph in their success, to mourn for
their failure. Now, I ask thee one request--spare me the life of this
man."

"Nina--"

"Hear me,--for thee I speak! Despite his crimes, his valour and his
genius have gained him admirers, even amongst his foes. Many a prince,
many a state that secretly rejoices at his fall, will affect horror
against his judge. Hear me farther. His brothers aided your return;
the world will term you ungrateful. His brothers lent you monies, the
world--(out on it!)--will term you--"