"It is a long story, my lord," replied the friar; "but to tell you as shortly as may be. The signor's daughter, it seems, is to be married shortly to young Lorenzo Visconti. Now I have an old grudge against that young man. I have promised not to practise against his life, and I will keep my promise, for I always do; but I have not promised not to do him all the harm I can, for revenge I will have, and I can only have it by staying with Ramiro d'Orco."
"That suits me well," replied Cæsar Borgia. "You shall be my servant, Mardocchi, but not quit the good lord. You may remain with him, go with him where he goes, serve him against all men except me; but you will remember you are mine, and be ready to serve me at a moment's notice. I need such men as you. You will receive a hundred ducats in the year from my treasurer, and I count upon you for any service, even should it be against Ramiro himself."
"I trust I may count upon your Eminence's countenance too," said Mardocchi, "in case I should get into any trouble on this Signor Visconti's matters, for my revenge upon him I will have."
"You shall have my protection, and those whom I protect are tolerably safe," said Borgia, rising and going to a small beautiful cabinet that stood in the room. "Here, take this bag of ducats; it is what I promised. Divide them equally with your companions, and say nothing about the ring I have given you. Come to me to-morrow, and we will speak further. I will now retire, and shall sleep better than I have done for weeks."
Mardocchi took the heavy bag, and as he did so, Cæsar Borgia saw that there was blood on the man's hand. It was his brother's blood; and the sight did for an instant touch his obdurate heart, which nothing else had reached. He did not sleep so well that night as he expected.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Ramiro d'Orco sat in his own splendid room while rumours of the death of the unfortunate Duke of Gandia spread consternation through the city; but he had before him a parchment with a large pendant seal, which gave him the important ecclesiastical fief of Imola, and he thought of little else. The first great step he had ever been able to take in that high road of ambition which he had so long been eager to follow was now taken. He saw before him along career of greatness, and he calculated that, step by step, as Cæsar Borgia rose, he must rise with him. He did not over-estimate at all the abilities of that very remarkable man; and it was no wild calculation to presume that, with such abilities, with such courage, with such ambition, and without a scruple, Cæsar Borgia, in that unscrupulous age, must rise to the highest point of power and dignity.
True, the town of Imola had its own lords; true, it was strongly garrisoned; but the barony had been declared forfeited to the Holy See, and the fortifications were too much decayed to withstand a siege. Linked as he was now with Cæsar Borgia, and knowing that his services, especially with the hostile Cardinal of St. Peter's, were necessary to the Holy See, he doubted not that the forces of the pope, which were soon to be employed against Forli, in the immediate neighbourhood of Imola, would be permitted to place him in possession of the vicariate. He was resolved, however, to make sure of that point as early as possible, and if not successful in his application, to raise troops himself and endeavour to surprise the place.
The second day after the assassination of the Duke of Gandia, Ramiro d'Orco, with more splendour than he had yet displayed in Rome, presented himself first at the Vatican, and then at the palace of the cardinal. At the Vatican he was refused admittance, and the attendants told him the dreadful sufferings of the father for the loss of his eldest and best-beloved son. They assured him, and assured him truly, that the pope, shut up in his cabinet, had neither seen any one, nor tasted food of any kind since the death of the duke had been ascertained. At the Borgia palace he was admitted, and he found in the gorgeous saloons a number of the high nobility of Rome, brought thither by the same motive which he himself professed, namely, to condole with the young cardinal upon his brother's death. With a grave air and a sad look, he advanced slowly toward Borgia, and expressed in graceful and well-chosen terms his regret and horror at the event which had occurred.
The drama was well played on both parts, although, to tell the truth, Cæsar was so much amused at the farce, that, had he not been the most complete master of dissimulation in the world, he must have laughed aloud. He looked grave and sad, however; and when Ramiro, after having stayed for some time in the hope that the other visitors would depart, rose to do so himself, Cæsar said to him, in that bland and caressing tone which he knew so well how to use--