IV. OF THE STRATAGEM PRACTISED BY ANTONIO DE LEYVA.
But while abundance was to be found in the camp of the besiegers, and while the French army was contented and even joyous, severe privation was already experienced in Pavia.
Disappointed in the succours he expected to receive from Lodi, De Leyva had already put the garrison on short allowance, and provisions had become so scarce, that the horrors of famine began to be anticipated. Occasionally supplies were obtained by skirmishing parties, but these were inefficient for a populous city like Pavia, and were speedily exhausted.
But De Leyva appeared wholly unconcerned by the distress he saw around him. Harsh and inflexible, resolute in the performance of his duty, and callous to the sufferings of others, he looked on the people around him with a cold, unpitying eye. So long as the garrison could be fed, he cared not what became of the citizens.
His worst apprehensions were caused by the mutinous spirit which on several occasions of late had been evinced by the German lanz-knechts under De Hohenzollern.
He had tried to allay their discontent by promising them their pay, but as he could not make good his word, his assurances were treated with derision, and the men even threatened, if not paid, to deliver the city to the enemy.
That this would be carried out, De Leyva became convinced by discovering that a secret correspondence existed between the Comte d'Azarnes, one of the German leaders, and Bonnivet. The knowledge of the secret thus obtained he prudently kept to himself, resolving to punish the treachery of Azarnes at a fitting season. As gold, however, must be obtained at whatever risk, he carefully thought over the matter, and at last conceived a stratagem by which he hoped that a supply of money might be safely passed through the French army. During a sortie which he made for the purpose into the park of Mirnbello, he despatched an emissary in whom he could confide, with instructions to Lannoy and Pescara, both of whom were at Lodi.
While François, unable to take the city by assault, was proceeding by slower means, a plan was suggested to him by an officer belonging to the Duke d'Alençon, which promised success, and gave great uneasiness to the besieged. This was no less than to divert the main arm of the Ticino, which flowed past Pavia, into the lesser channel. If the plan could be accomplished, the city, being entirely undefended on this side, must necessarily fall.
Every exertion, therefore, was used by the king to carry the scheme into effect. An enormous number of men were employed in damming up the main arm of the river, and in deepening and widening the channel of the lesser arm so as to receive its waters, and as the work progressed François was greatly elated by the prospect of success, while De Leyva attempted, though vainly, to fortify the exposed part of the city, which, when the bed of the river was laid dry, would be open to attack.
On both sides the opinion now prevailed that Pavia was doomed, but its resolute commander held stoutly on, and would not listen to any terms of capitulation.
Another day, and all would have been over, when just at the critical moment, while prayers were offered in the Duomo for the preservation of the city, torrents of rain began to fall, and continued to pour down without intermission for several hours, until the swollen waters of the Ticino could no longer be restrained, but, bursting the embankments reared against them, returned to their original channel.
Pavia was saved. Fervent thanksgivings were offered up by the citizens, who regarded the occurrence as providential, and a Te Deum was chanted in the Duomo. Discouraged by the ill success of the scheme, François made no attempt to renew it.
Just after this event, which Antonio de Leyva looked upon as a good omen, another incident of a very different nature occurred.
We have said that a large market was held in the park of Mirabello, at which provisions of all kinds were sold by country-folk to the soldiers. One morning, two tall and robust young men, with handsome and sunburnt visages, and clad like peasants, were allowed to pass through the French camp, there being nothing either in their looks or deportment calculated to excite suspicion. Each led a mule charged with a couple of large casks, apparently filled with wine, and as the two young peasants strode along they laughed and jested with the soldiers.
On arriving at the place where the market was held, they were speedily surrounded by eager customers, and while chaffering with them moved gradually nearer and nearer to the city walls, until it became evident that they had attracted the notice of the sentinels, and they were cautioned by the soldiers with them not to go any farther. The peasants, however, treated the warning as a joke, and went on.
All at once, a troop of cavalry, headed by De Leyva, issued from a sallyport, and dashing at the party, seized the peasants and their mules, and carried them off into the city before any attempt at rescue could be made by the troops of the Duke d'Alençon, who had witnessed the affair.
As soon as De Leyva was safe within the walls of the city, he gave vent to a hearty fit of laughter, and the two peasants joined in his merriment.
“Admirably executed, by my fay!” exclaimed the governor. “The stratagem has succeeded to a miracle, little do the enemy dream what rare wine they have allowed to escape them. 'Tis a vintage fit for the king's table—ha! ha! But whom have I to thank for the important service thus rendered me?” he added to the foremost of the peasants. “Unless I am mistaken, it is the Seigneur Pomperant.”
“Your excellency is right,” replied the other. “Lan-noy and Pescara could find no better messenger than myself, so I have come hither disguised, as you see, with my attendant Hugues. Each of those casks contains a thousand golden ducats—a rich prize for the king, if it had fallen into his hands.”
“A good sum, in truth, and if it will not pay the lanz-knechts in full, it will at least stop their mouths for a time,” rejoined De Leyva, laughing. “Again I thank you for the service, though I am sorry you will have to remain in this city. There is plenty of revelry, I am told, each night in the king's camp, but there is none here. All we do in Pavia is to fast, pray, and fight.”
“I am familiar with beleaguered cities,” said Pomperant. “I was in Marseilles during the siege.”
“Marseilles endured no privations,” rejoined De Leyva. “The port was open, and supplies could be sent in by the fleet. But here we are cut off from everything. May I count on speedy succour from Lannoy and Pescara?”
“I fear not,” replied Pomperant. “They are not in a condition to march upon the king's army. But they expect reinforcements.”
“Where is the Duke de Bourbon?” demanded De Leyva.
“In Suabia collecting an army,” replied Pomperant. “From what I have heard from his highness he will get together a large force, and, when he returns, I doubt not he will fly to your succour.”
“I hope he may not come too late,” remarked De Leyva.
“Before setting out, the duke told me that he knew full well your excellency would hold out, and that most assuredly he would be back in time to relieve you.”
“Well, I suppose I must be content,” said De Leyva. “But I am eager to examine the treasure.”
By the governor's orders the casks were then taken to the castello, and on being opened were found full of golden pieces, which De Leyva immediately distributed among the German lanz-lanechts, telling them the remainder of their pay was safe in the hands of the Viceroy of Naples, at Lodi, and should be given to them as soon as it could be sent with safety. By this means confidence was restored, and the tendency to mutiny checked.
The time had now arrived for the punishment of the traitor. On the day after the gold had been distributed as above mentioned, De Leyva sent for Azarnes to the castello, and after conversing with him for some time in a friendly manner, called for wine. A cup of Cyprus was filled, and Azarnes drank it unsuspectingly. Another goblet was offered to De Leyva, but, though he raised it to his lips, he took care not to taste it. After a while, De Leyva drew from his breast the letter addressed to Bonnivet which he had intercepted, and, showing it to Azarnes, asked him sternly if it was his writing. With such evidence against him, the unfortunate man did not dare to attempt denial.
“Your silence proclaims your guilt,” said De Leyva. “You deserve death, but act as I enjoin, and I will pardon you.”
“I am ready to obey your excellency,” rejoined Azarnes.
“Write, then, to Bonnivet that the men are firm, and refuse to deliver up the city,” said De Leyva. “Add that pay has been sent them by the Viceroy of Naples, and that succour is daily expected.”
Azarnes wrote as commanded, and when the letter was finished, De Leyva took it.
“I will send the letter off at once,” he said. “Remain here till I return. I shall not be long absent. I have more to say to you.”
And, with a singular look at Azarnes, he quitted the room.
De Leyva had not been gone many minutes, when the unfortunate man was seized with a mortal sickness, and a frightful suspicion crossing him, he examined the other goblet, and found it untouched. He then knew that he was poisoned, and made for the door, but ere he could reach it his strength utterly forsook him, and he fell on the ground. At this moment De Leyva entered the chamber.
“What! my wine is too potent for you—ha?” he exclaimed.
“You have poisoned me,” groaned the dying man.
“I have been compelled to become your executioner,” rejoined De Leyva. “I would rather have put you to death publicly, but since justice might have been defeated, I have elected this plan.”
The action of the terrible poison was so swift, that ere many minutes Azarnes had ceased to exist.