CHAPTER XXIII.
The young King of France sat in a small room dressed in a gown of black velvet, with a bonnet or toque upon his head, for the winters were now cold, and, to tell the truth, Roman houses were then, as now, better fitted for the summer than the winter months of the year. Beside him stood Lorenzo Visconti, listening rather than speaking; for although, when he craved through the chamberlain a private audience, he had said that he had matters of great moment to communicate to the monarch, Charles, as was not unusual with him, had begun the conversation with tales of his own griefs and annoyances.
"Upon my life, Visconti," he said, "I am of the mind to trust old men no more, for what they have in wisdom and experience is drowned in selfishness and ambition. A very young man may be a fool, but he is rarely a scoundrel; and it is a sad thing, cousin, to be always doubting whether a man in a grey beard is advising you for your interest or his own. Look you now! they promised me that if I but entered Rome, the pope would be brought to terms at once; and now there he sits up in the castle there, looking down upon us like an eagle from his eyrie, without showing one sign of a desire to treat. I have ordered ten bombards to be brought to the bridge and pointed at the gates, and, on my life, they shall fire unless he shows signs of life before noon."
"I think, sire," replied Lorenzo, "you will not have to give the order. His Holiness may have shown no open signs of a desire to treat, but he seems of your Majesty's opinion, that young men are the best counsellors. In a word, sire, I have had a long interview, unsought and unexpected, with Cardinal Borgia this morning, and it is on that account I have intruded on you thus early."
Charles's attention was now fully aroused. "What!" he exclaimed, "have you been admitted to the castle?"
"No, sire," answered Lorenzo; "I last night received a note from Signor Ramiro d'Orco, appointing a place of meeting, and, judging that his object had reference solely to his daughter, I went. We had not conversed five minutes when we were joined by the Cardinal Don Cæsar Borgia, and he gave me, expressly for your Majesty's hearing, his views of the state of affairs in Italy, and hinted very distinctly what are the terms which his Holiness is inclined to concede."
"Speak! speak! tell me all!" cried the king. "By heaven, I hope we shall not be interrupted. Call in the chamberlain or his page. That bishop comes here about this hour; he should, indeed, be here now; but he is somewhat negligent and unpunctual. He shall have to wait, however, for I will not admit him till your tale is done."
The chamberlain was called in, the king's orders given not to admit even his council, and Lorenzo went on to tell his tale. His memory was good, the words of Cæsar Borgia had impressed themselves deeply on his mind, and Charles lost hardly anything by hearing from another mouth.
The monarch was evidently much struck with the new view of his own situation now presented to him. The old adage that "one story is good till another is told," is constantly applicable to every view we take of ourselves, our fate, our circumstances. Whoever told the other story, it would always be found very different from our own. Charles paused long and meditated in silence. His was neither a quick nor a comprehensive mind: and when the golden visions of glory and ambition have once entered into the brain, it is difficult to displace them; but yet he saw obstacles he had never dreamed of, impediments which had been suggested neither by his own judgment nor by the sagacity of his counsellors, dangers which were more than probable, imminent and menacing. His courage was too great, his ambition too deeply engaged, his honour too much implicated for him to recede from his enterprise against Naples. But he saw strong good sense in the plan suggested and the advice given by Cardinal Borgia, and he concluded that they would not be furnished by an enemy, or that if they were, they could not be furnished in an inimical spirit.
He pondered these matters more at length, and perhaps more profoundly than he had ever considered anything before. Steps were heard in the adjoining chamber, a hand was placed upon the latch, words were spoken, some in a tone of remonstrance, and some almost in that of anger, but they did not rouse the young king from his reverie.
At length the king woke, as if he had suddenly come to some resolution. "I will demand only what must absolutely be granted," he said, looking up--"only what is absolutely needful. We must not, by asking too much, risk the loss of all. Now tell me, cousin--you alluded to certain conditions to which the cardinal said his uncle, or rather his father, would agree. Let me know them distinctly, and be sure that you remember them aright."
Lorenzo repeated as closely as possible the words of Cæsar Borgia, giving something even of his manner and intonation. The king listened with fixed attention; but when Lorenzo came to that part of the offer by which it was promised that Zizim should be given into Charles's hands, the words did not produce the effect which the young knight had expected. The monarch remained almost entirely unmoved; the vision of Constantinople had passed away. In showing him his real situation at that actual moment, Borgia had taught the young king the vanity of his schemes for the future.
"Well, then," said Charles, when Lorenzo had concluded, "almost all is offered which I could reasonably demand. There is only one thing left vague, and that is the security to be given that the Roman territory shall be kept open when it either suits me to return or when I see fit to bring reinforcements from France; but the details of that question can be settled by negotiators on both parts. It may give my ministers an opportunity of making something for themselves, and when it can be done with honour, my good cousin, I do not object to advance the interests of those who serve me well."
"Perhaps this little packet, sire, may serve to smooth the way with your Majesty's ministers," said Lorenzo; "I promised to give it to my reverend lord the Bishop of St. Malo some time when he was alone if I could, but I did not engage not to ask your Majesty's permission."
"Oh, give it to him, give it to him," said the good-humoured king; "but he should have been here long ere this. He is becoming sadly tardy."
"I think, sire, he has already come, but your Majesty ordered no one to be admitted."
"True! true!" replied Charles. "Well, then, go, good cousin, take him aside, and give him the packet; then send him in to speak with me."
Lorenzo, as he expected, found the king's minister in the antechamber; but the good bishop was in no very placable mood. He eyed the young cavalier, as he came forth from the king's closet, with a glance that can only be given by a courtier who sees another receive high honour from his sovereign, and he had almost turned on his heel when Lorenzo approached him.
"I wish to speak with you alone for a moment, my lord bishop," said the young man, respectfully.
"I cannot imagine what you can have to say to me, Signor Visconti, nor with the king either," said the minister, tartly; "but, as I have been kept long enough among pages, I may as well gratify you. This way, sir."
Lorenzo followed him with a smile, and the bishop led him to a vacant chamber, saying, as soon as they entered, "Now, sir?"
"I have the honour, my lord," said Lorenzo, "of delivering this into your hands from Cardinal Borgia--"
"Who! what!" exclaimed the prelate, interrupting him, in a tone greatly altered.
"He directed me, reverend sir," continued the young man, not noticing his exclamations, "to place the packet in your hands when you were alone. This must plead my excuse for so venturing to occupy your time and detaining you from the king."
But before Lorenzo had finished the sentence the bishop had torn open the packet, and was gazing in admiration at what it contained. Lorenzo did not wonder at the surprise and satisfaction which had shown themselves on the prelate's face when he saw in his hands the largest and most beautiful diamond he had ever beheld, except among the jewels of the King of France. But there was something more; for the bishop gazed at some words written in the cover, and he murmured, loud enough to be heard, "And a cardinal's hat!" Apparently that was all that was written, for he repeated the words again, "And a cardinal's hat! I understand."
Those few words were quite sufficient, however, for Cæsar Borgia knew his man, and was aware that no long explanations were needed.
Lorenzo was then about to retire, but the bishop stopped him with a very gracious look, saying, "Stay, Signor Visconti, stay! Then you know his Eminence, and have seen him lately."
"My lord, I must not detain you with explanations," said Lorenzo, "for I know his Majesty wishes to consult you on matters of deep importance."
"At all events, I trust, from your bringing me this little token," said the bishop, moving toward the door, "that, notwithstanding your intimacy with the Cardinal of St. Peter's, you are not one of those who will counsel the king to deal hardly with the Holy See."
"My counsel will never be asked, my lord bishop," replied the young nobleman, walking by his side; "but if it were, I should undoubtedly advise his Majesty to come to an accommodation with his Holiness as speedily as possible, and upon as generous terms as may be compatible with his own dignity and security."
"That is well! that is well!" said the bishop, with a gratified smile. "My son, you have my benediction. Blessed be the peace-makers!"
Thus ended their interview; but the following day, to his great surprise, Lorenzo found that the bishop had requested to have his presence at a conference with some negotiators on the part of the pope, alleging that it would be better to have the assistance of some Italian gentleman.
In truth, several military men had been joined with him in the commission, and the good prelate feared that counsels opposite to his own wishes might prevail unless he had the support of some one of whose opinions he had made sure.
The negotiations were not so soon or so easily terminated as either Lorenzo or the king had expected. Though Cæsar Borgia for once acted in good faith, the pope vacillated and delayed, and the subject of the military guarantees was attended with great difficulties.
At length, however, it was agreed that Civita Vecchia, Terracina, and Spoleto, together with Ostia, which would seem to have been already in his possession, should be placed in Charles's hands as security; that the solemn investiture of the kingdom of Naples should be given; that Zizim should be delivered to him; and that Cardinal Borgia should accompany the royal army as a hostage.
On his part, Charles promised to show every outward sign of obedience and submission to the Holy See; and Alexander returned to the Vatican to receive the homage of the King of France for the kingdom of Naples, and to enjoy an apparent triumph over him who had invaded his dominions, set at nought his authority, and driven him from his palace.