Leonora D'Orco: A Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

Still farther in the rear appeared a somewhat lugubrious troop, at the head of which was borne a square black banner on a gilded pole. Then came litter after litter with black curtains, followed by a small body of mounted men, whose turbans and cimiters betokened the race from which they sprang.

In the front litter, the curtains of which were in part drawn back, might be seen a man about the middle age, somewhat large and heavy in figure, but with a mild, intelligent face. This was the unfortunate Zizim, the brother of Bajazet, who followed the King of France rather as a guest than a prisoner, but who well knew that he was no more the master of his own actions than if there had been manacles on his wrists. Yet there was hope in his heart--hope which had not tenanted it for many a long month. He knew, indeed, that he was to be subservient to the will of a powerful monarch, but he knew also that, in the coming struggle, when, supported by French troops, he was to shake the throne of his brother, there was a chance, and a good one, of recovering what he rightly or wrongly considered as his own. His family followed in the litters behind him; and a few faithful servants and attendants who shared his fortunes in good and evil, made up the rest of the band.

With drums, and trumpets, and banners flying, and nodding plumes, and all-the pomp and pageantry of war, the French army marched forward, while the first breath of spring was felt in the air, and a slight filmy cloud here and there in the sky promised, like the hopes of youth, an early enjoyment of summer long before, in reality, it approached. Mirth and laughter reigned in the ranks of the French army, and the expedition seemed more like an excursion of pleasure than a great military enterprise.

The day's march was somewhat long, although it did not commence very early; but Charles had suddenly re-awakened to the necessity of reaching Naples speedily; and even the sluggish Duke of Montpensier, who rarely rose before noon-day, was eager to get forward, and had been in the saddle by nine.

At length the halt was ordered; lodgings were found in a small village for the king and the principal personages who attended him; tents were pitched in the fields and groves around; and, after one of those scenes of indescribable bustle and confusion which always attend the first night's encampment of an army, the gay French soldiery gave themselves up to revelry and merriment.

Couriers came from Rome during the evening, bringing delicious wines and delicacies as presents from Pope Alexander to the king; and, although it was somewhat dangerous to eat of his meat or drink of his cup, let it be said, none of the French court was injured that day by the bounties he provided.

On the following morning the march recommenced in the same order; the encampment again took place at night; the night passed away; but, while the army was getting under arms in the early morning, it was found that two of the king's honoured guests were gone.

Cardinal Borgia, the pope's hostage, was nowhere to be found; litters and rosy curtains, attendants on foot and on horseback, pack-horses and mules, had all disappeared, and it became very evident that Cæsar, not liking the position he occupied in the French army, had quitted it, and taken himself back to Rome.

Zizim also, the unfortunate Ottoman prince, had departed, but on a longer journey, and to a more distant land. He had been taken ill during the night; symptoms of poison had shown themselves at an early hour; the disease, whatever it was, had a rapid course, and ere day dawned the eyes of Zizim were closed in the night of death. It was shown that messengers from his friend Pope Alexander had visited him during the preceding evening, and a thousand vague stories ran through the camp not at all complimentary to the moral character of the pope; but Charles VIII., whatever might be his suspicions, sent back the family and the corpse of the Turkish prince to Alexander. The latter, indeed, was a valuable present, perhaps more so than any corpse ever was before or since; for, on delivering it to the agents of Bajazet, the messengers of the pope received three hundred thousand ducats of gold, as compensation for some act faithfully performed.

These events created much surprise and some uneasiness in the court of Charles VIII. The graces, the exceeding beauty, and the winning eloquence of Cæsar Borgia had dissipated all the doubts and suspicions which, even at that early period of his life, hung about him. At a distance, men abhorred and condemned him; once within the magic circle of his influence, fear and hatred passed away, and friendship and confidence succeeded in even the most cautious. But now, when he fled from the post he had voluntarily undertaken, when he set at nought the engagements which he had been the first to propose, suspicion was re-awakened; couriers were sent off in haste to the towns which Alexander had surrendered as securities to the king, and the officers commanding the garrisons were strictly enjoined to keep guard carefully against a surprise.