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.