[CHAPTER II.]
THE DUCHESS IN SAFETY.
Emerging from the gallery, the Duchess uttered a faint cry, and would have shrunk back again on seeing some dark figures stealthily approaching; but they proved to be only two of her own servants, each with a led horse, on which she and Cynthia were speedily mounted, and on their way to Vallecorsa.
Meantime a desperate conflict was raging in the town and castle, led on by the fiery Barbarossa himself, his lieutenant Dragut, and the renegade Sinan, the most relentless of his corsairs. Again and again resounds the cry "Where is the Duchess, ye Christian dogs?"—"Out of your reach!" they shout back; and a volley of stones descends from the battlements. Defence is vain; the gates are forced in, the assailants pour through the rooms, and, disappointed of their prey, hack and spoil the rich furniture, and carry off what comes ready to hand. Faithful retainers are cut down; others have their hands tied and are carried off to be sold into slavery; among them, a youth called Tebaldo Adimari, the pride and hope of Fondi.
Day was breaking when the corsairs, laden with booty, drew off from the town in good order and formidable numbers, leaving very few of their party behind them. The little town was sick and gasping. Here and there were low wails and continuous sobbings in-doors. Here and there a hollow groan from some ditch. Here and there a broken scimitar, an unrolled turban, a pool of blood. Monks now began to steal forth in couples from the Dominican convent in which St. Thomas Aquinas had taught theology. They went to shrive the dying, bury the dead, and console the bereaved. A Jewish physician, with a couple of Hebrew servants, was also engaged in offices of benevolence; causing some to be carefully removed; binding up the wounds of others on the spot. The peril of the Duchess—though she escaped unscathed—caused great commiseration and excitement at the time. The death and captivity of the nobodies elicited a slight shudder or a shrug, and was passed over.
Cautiously the withered face of the Mother-of-the-maids peered forth from the cellar-door when all was quiet; and fearfully issued forth the train of scared, bewildered females who had taken shelter under her wing. They were relieved to find themselves alive and safe; but lamentations soon succeeded gratulations. Isaura's betrothed had been carried away captive; Tonina's father lay stark and stiff. As for the cameriera, she was weeping herself blind to find the Duchess's room ransacked, the mirror smashed, the gowns tossed like hay, the pictures stabbed, and many of the properties made booty of. She smote her breast and wrung her hands to that degree that it was dreadful to see her.
The news of the attack reaching Rome, Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici, who was much more of a warrior than a churchman, hastened to the rescue with a troop of horse.
Meanwhile, a messenger from Vallecorsa brought a billet from the Duchess.
"Are the wretches gone? Have they done much harm? I have nothing to put on. Is anybody hurt? I suppose I may come back?"