VIII. HOW BOURBON AND HIS BANDS ARRIVED BEFORE ROME.
Next morning, as soon as it was light, Bourbon, who had not taken off his armour, and had only snatched a couple of hours of sleep, rode to the summit of a hill, whence he could command a good view of the city he was about to deliver to destruction.
There lay the ancient capital of the world—and now the chief city of Christendom—the burial-place of the holy apostles and martyrs—there it lay, with its seven hills, its heathen temples and Christian fanes, its ruins, its monuments, its palaces hallowed by a thousand historical recollections. There was the mighty Coliseum, there the Forum, there the Palatine, crowned with the palace of the Caesars. There was Mount Aventine—there the Esquiline, with the Baths of Titus—there the Pincian Hill, with its cypresses. Over all, and dominating the ancient temples, rose the Basilica of Saint Peter—then, however, wanting its incomparable dome. Near to this stately fane were the Vatican and the frowning Castle of Saint Angelo, with the yellow Tiber flowing past its walls. Could he gaze on that time-hallowed city, unmoved—knowing he was about to doom it to destruction? Some feelings of compunction did, indeed, cross him, but he quickly crushed them.
At a later hour in the same day—it was the 5th of May, 1527—the sentinels on the walls and gates of Rome, and on the battlements of the Castle of Saint Angelo, descried the mighty host advancing along the wide and desolate Campagna. Presently came numerous messengers, wild with terror, describing the number and savage character of the troops. But the Pope did not appear to be alarmed by the tidings brought him. Though usually timid and irresolute, he did not exhibit any uneasiness now, but declared that ample preparations had been made for the defence of the city. He would not allow the bridges to be cut connecting the Borgo with the city, and prohibited the terrified merchants from removing their goods by the Tiber.
The reason of this apparent confidence was, that he fully believed he should be able to treat with Bourbon, and save the city from assault by payment of a large subsidy—never reflecting that it was not in Bourbon's power to treat with him, and that nothing less than the sack of the city would content the rapacious soldiery.
The defence of the city had been committed by the Pontiff' to Renzo da Ceri, who persuaded himself that he could resist Bourbon as successfully at Rome as he had done at Marseilles. Besides the garrison of the Castle of Saint Angelo, and the Pope's Swiss guard, there were in Rome at the time about two thousand arquebussiers, and a small troop of cavalry. The walls and fortifications were for the most part in good order, and well supplied with ordnance, and as it was known that Bourbon was entirely without artillery, and almost without munitions, it was not deemed likely he could take the city by assault. Renzo's confidence was, therefore, excusable. But he was wrong. Bourbon had now an army with him whom no walls could keep out.
On arriving before Rome, Bourbon placed his army between the Janiculum Hill and the Vatican, and he had no sooner taken up this position than he sent Pomperant with a trumpet to summon the Pope to surrender the city.
Presenting himself at the ancient Porta Flaminia, which was succeeded, some half a century later, by the Porta del Popolo, Pomperant caused the trumpeter to sound his clarion thrice, and in the name of the Constable de Bourbon summoned the Sovereign Pontiff' to surrender the city.
Response was immediately made in haughty terms by Renzo da Ceri, who ordered Pomperant to retire or he would fire upon him, and the latter accordingly withdrew.
Bourbon expected no other answer, but on receiving it he gave immediate orders that the city should be assaulted on the following morning at daybreak.
At eventide, Bourbon, attended by the Prince of Orange and Pomperant, surveyed the city from the Monte Mario. After a careful examination of the walls, which then formed a circuit of more than five leagues, he decided on making the assault at different points of the Aurelian Wall between the Janiculum Hill and the Vatican. This being settled, he rode back towards the camp.
As yet not a single gun had been fired on either side, for the Pope had ordered his general not to precipitate matters by opening fire from the Castle of Saint Angelo upon the enemy. But the cannon were all shotted, and the sentinels with their arquebusses on the shoulder, were pacing to and fro on the ramparts.
When Bourbon returned to the camp, he called together the men, and thus addressed them:
“Captains and brave soldiers! fortune has at last brought us to the city we have so ardently desired to reach. Rome is before you. On the other side of those old walls countless treasures await you. But you must fight hard to win the treasures. The walls must be scaled, since we have no cannon to breach them.”
“We will do it, noble general,” cried the men. “We need no breach.”
“I myself will lead the assault,” continued Bourbon, “and will show you how to take the city.”
“We will follow, fear not! Vive Bourbon!” shouted the soldiers.
“Listen to me, my friends,” he pursued. “The famous astrologer, Cornelius Agrippa, of whom you must have heard, foretold that I should die before the walls of a great city. It may be here—before Rome—that I am destined to perish. If it be so, I care not. The death will be glorious—worthy of a soldier. I shall lead the assault without fear, certain that you, my brave companions, will capture the city, and avenge me.”
“'Tis a false prediction!” cried a hundred voices. “We will all guard you. You will not die thus. You are destined to be King of Rome.”
“Be my fate what it may,” said Bourbon—“whether I share your triumph, or die beforehand, I know that Rome, with all its treasures, with its Pope, its cardinals, its nobles, and its fair women, will be yours. And now return to your tents, and take your rest. You will have enough to do to-morrow. An hour before dawn, make ready for the assault. Your captains have their full directions. You may rest without fear. I will take care that strict watch is kept.”
The soldiers then dispersed, singing, “Calla, calla! Viva la fama de Bourbon!”
“You have no faith in that idle prediction?” remarked the Prince of Orange to Bourbon, as he accompanied him to his tent.
“I have scarcely thought of it before to-day, but it came upon me forcibly as I gazed on Rome this evening from the Monte Mario,” rejoined Bourbon. “If I should fall, you must take the command of the army.”
“No such necessity, I trust, may arise,” said Philibert. “But the army shall not want a leader.”
“It will have a good one in you,” rejoined Bourbon. “And now leave me. Come to me an hour before daybreak.”
With this the Prince of Orange departed, and Bourbon was left alone, and passed several hours in deep self-communion.
About midnight he roused himself, and, issuing from his tent, looked around. It was a glorious night, and the old walls that rose before him were bathed in the moonbeams. The camp was hushed, and all was so still at the moment, that the tread of the sentinels could be heard on the ramparts. Having looked around for a short time, he re-entered his tent, trimmed his lamp, and sat down to look at a plan of Rome, which was laid on the table before him. From this occupation he was roused by the noise of some one entering the tent, and, looking up, he perceived Pomperant, accompanied by a nun.
Surprised at the sight, he inquired why he was thus disturbed.
“The holy sister herself will explain her errand,” replied Pomperant. “She has ventured forth from the city to see your highness, and I could not refuse to bring her to you.”
“You have done wrong,” said Bourbon, sternly. “I have no time to waste on women now. Depart, good sister.”
“Dismiss me not, I pray your highness, till you have heard what I have to say,” rejoined the nun. “Am I so much changed? Does this garb disguise me so greatly, that you fail to recognise Marcelline d'Herment?”
“Marcelline d'Herment!” exclaimed Bourbon, in surprise.
“I am vowed to Heaven, as you see,” she rejoined. “I have entered a convent in Rome, and hoped to pass the rest of my days in peace. But I have been sorely troubled since I learnt that your highness was marching to lay waste the city, and determined, at whatever risk, to make an effort to save it. With that view I came forth to-night. I ventured to approach the sentinels, and I desired to be brought before your highness. The men refused, but while they were talking with me the Seigneur Pomperant came up, and at once consented to bring me before you.”
“If I have done wrong, I trust your highness will forgive me,” said Pomperant, “but I could not refuse the request.”
“Nay, there is no harm done,” said Bourbon. “But how comes it that you have abandoned the world?” he added to Marcelline. “I thought you had given your heart to Pomperant. Why have you placed this insurmountable bar between yourself and him?”
“Ah! why, indeed?” cried Pomperant, reproachfully.
“I could not do otherwise,” she rejoined. “But I have not come hither to tell my own sad story. I have come to entreat your highness, even at the eleventh hour, to abandon your impious purpose. Oh! prince, listen to me, I implore you. Treason and rebellion are great crimes, but they are as naught compared with the act you are about to commit. If you deliver over Rome to pillage and slaughter, your name will be for ever execrated. Turn back, I implore of you!”
“I cannot turn back. Be that my answer,” said Bourbon, impatiently.
“But it is in your power to save the city!” cried Marcelline. “You can come to terms with his Holiness, who will enable you to satisfy your men.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Bourbon. “Nothing will satisfy them but the plunder of the city.”
“Will no consideration move you?” she cried. “Have you no pity for the innocent and the aged? Will you allow the temples of your religion to be destroyed and polluted?”
“My heart is steeled to pity,” rejoined Bourbon, sternly. “All your solicitations are in vain.”
“Then since you are deaf to all entreaties, tremble!” she cried. “Tremble! for Heaven's vengeance will alight upon you. Grace has been offered you, but you have cast it aside. But you will not enjoy your triumph. You will not enter the city.”
“Who shall prevent me?” demanded Bourbon.
“Heaven,” she rejoined. “Heaven will prevent you.”
“Were you a messenger from Heaven itself, you should not prevent me from being first to scale the walls,” said Bourbon. “This interview can lead to nothing, and must not be prolonged,” he added to Pomperant, “Conduct the Sister Marcelline through the camp, and place her where she may safely enter the city.”
“It shall be dene,” replied Pomperant,
He then withdrew with Marcelline. On reaching the outskirts of the camp, she said to him, “Are you determined to follow Bourbon?”
“To the last,” he rejoined. “If he is shot down, I will take his place.”
Marcelline made no reply, but darted from him, and ran towards the Aurelian Wall.
Plunging into the dry fosse which skirted the wall, she hurried along the bottom of the trench for some distance in the direction of the Vatican. All at once she stopped, and clapped her hands. At the signal, a ladder was let down, and, mounting it, she gained the ramparts.
Marcelline fancied her movements were unobserved, but she was mistaken. Curious to ascertain how she could gain access to the city, Pomperant had followed her. On approaching the spot where she had disappeared, he perceived that the old wall, which was built of brick, and of great solidity, was in this part considerably dilapidated—so much so, as almost to form a breach.
After carefully examining the spot, he hastened back to Bourbon's tent to acquaint him with the important discovery he had made. Bourbon had thrown himself on a couch, but without divesting himself of his armour, and he was wrapped in the last slumber he was destined to enjoy, when Pomperant entered his tent, and aroused him.
“I am sure your highness will forgive me for disturbing you,” he said, “when I tell you that I have discovered a breach in the walls.”
“Ha! that is indeed good news!” cried Bourbon. “But how did you make the discovery?”
“I made it while following Marcelline to see how she entered the city,” replied Pomperant.
“Take me to the spot,” said Bourbon. “I must be satisfied with my own eyes that you have not been deceived. It is strange that you roused me from a dream of the assault. I thought an angel with a flaming brand stood on the battlements to drive me back, but I went on. Listen to me, Pomperant. When dealing with the miserable Milanese, as you know, I took Heaven to witness that I meant them fairly, wishing I might perish by the first shot at the first battle if I played them false. This is the first battle, and not a shot has yet been fired.”
“The first shot will not harm you, my lord,” rejoined Pomperant. “You did not wilfully deceive the Milanese. The Spanish soldiers refused to obey your orders.”
“True,” replied Bourbon; “but I feel that I violated my promise, and if Heaven punishes me, I cannot complain. But come. Let us examine the wall.”
They then quitted the tent, and, enveloped in long russet-coloured cloaks, which completely covered their armour, passed out of the camp, and cautiously approached the Aurelian Wall.