"Support him by the Swiss, and the Swiss by some men-at-arms, to guard against a sortie, and let him go in God's name," added La Tremouille. "Make haste, Visconti! Select your men well, and call for some ladders from the rear."
"Better summon the place first," said the king.
"It is the rule, sire, and should be done," answered the other; "but methinks these good people imagine they have been summoned already by the answers they send from their walls. There they go again! By my life they are aiming at the royal banner. Pity the artillery is so far behind, or we would answer them in kind. From that youth's eye, however, I think we shall have no need of bombards. He has spied some advantage, I will stake my life."
A trumpet was accordingly sent forward, and was suffered to approach close to the walls; but he returned with the answer that the garrison was strong, had been placed there by the Signoria of Florence, and could not consent to surrender without a stroke struck. In fact, they saw that no artillery was present at the time with the king's army, and did not believe the place could be taken without a breach being made.
In the meantime Lorenzo had addressed a few words to his troop, asking who would accompany him to lead the attack. Such was the confidence he had gained during the march that every man sprung to the ground and professed himself ready, even to the lowest casstelier. Only fifty, however, were selected, and the rest ordered to remain with the horses. Some scaling-ladders were procured, and all was ready to advance when the trumpet returned. A short pause ensued, and then was heard the beat of the drum.
Lorenzo sprang forward; his men came rapidly after, bearing the ladders horizontally; and the Swiss followed with an interval of some fifty yards. A strong body of Gascons, with petards, directed their course towards one of the gates of the town; and a battalion of Swiss moved towards a postern, which had been discovered in the curtain. But Lorenzo was before them all, and lost not an inch of ground. Straight towards what seemed to the eye of the king the most inaccessible spot of the fortress he bent his way, taking advantage of every undulation of the ground to shelter his men from the cannon-balls, which now came somewhat faster than at first, till he arrived within fifty paces of the spot where he had marked the goats climbing and standing. There in a little ravine, which the guns, as they were planted on the walls, could not bear upon, he turned for one moment to the men, exclaiming:
"Here, gentlemen, I have seen the goats go up and down, and surely we can do so too. The lowest part is the most difficult. The ladders--the ladders to the front; now, on with a rush!"
All were active, all were strong. The ditch, then dry, was speedily reached; and the ladders raised. They were too short to approach the summit of the wall, but Lorenzo's keen eye had not deceived him. Where he had seen the goats gathered together several huge stones had fallen; and, from that spot, there was a clear but narrow pathway up. At first it seemed as if he would meet but small resistance; for attacked in three quarters and divided in opinion amongst themselves, the superior officers of the Florentine garrison were consulting whether it would not be better to hang out a white flag and treat for a surrender. But speedily, soldiers came running along the platform above, hand guns and cross-bows were pointed at the ascending party, and large stones were cast down upon their heads. It was too late to treat now: the attack had fully commenced, the struggle was for life or death, and the defenders fought with the energy of despair.
In the meantime there were many and varying feelings in and around the cottage above where Leonora and her women had taken refuge. Fear--for with all the personal courage she had shown, and with an eager longing for his renown, the young girl still felt for her lover's safety. Fear, and hope, and anxious expectations succeeded each other in Leonora's bosom, like the changing aspects of a dream. Now she saw him in imagination mangled and bleeding in the fight; now beheld him carrying the banner of France triumphantly over the worsted foe; now fancied him still detained with the cavalry on the hill, and fretting at inaction.
"Run out--run out, Antonio!" she cried, after bearing the struggle in her heart for some time, "see what has become of your lord, and let me know if he be still on the hill."