He did not have time to say more, for the group of conspirators were even then drawing near. They surrounded Rienzi under pretence of asking him some question with regard to the new government. Then quickly they drew their daggers and each one struck him in turn.
But the Tribune had been too vigilant for them. Suspecting treachery on their part he had taken the precaution to don a coat of mail, under his robe of state, and this turned aside all their blows.
Those below who had seen their dastardly attack cried aloud for vengeance.
"Seize them! Kill them! Murderers! Villains!" resounded on all sides; and in a jiffy the gallery was thronged with excited men, led by Cecco a burly blacksmith, and the conspirators were disarmed and bound. They were thrown into separate dungeons, and so fierce was the rage against them that they were glad to hear the heavy doors clang, for they had been afraid of being torn to pieces.
As it was, their hours seemed numbered, for the people surged about the chair of state whereon Rienzi had now taken his seat, and clamoured loudly for the execution of the barons. Rienzi also was justly indignant. He did not care so much for the attack made against his own person as for the barons' total want of honour and disregard of the state's welfare. He saw that they were working for their own interests to the ruin of everyone else, and that the people's new-found liberty would be safer if they were put to death. So he was about to yield to the popular clamour and sign their death warrant when Adrian and Irene entered.
The young nobleman had realised the serious danger threatening his father and the other barons when their attack failed. Wishing to save his kindred and friends, although he knew they deserved punishment, he had hastened in search of Irene and begged her to plead with her brother for the prisoners' lives. This the tender-hearted girl consented to do; and they now came to present the petition together. Falling on their knees before Rienzi they begged him to show mercy rather than justice and prove the greatness of his high office.
This was just the sort of petition that appealed to the high-souled Tribune. He impulsively tore up the sentence which he was about to sign, and calling the people together he addressed them again with that eloquence of which he was so great a master. He asked to be allowed to pardon the barons, as it was him only that they had attacked. The people gave their consent, though not without murmurs, and the prisoners were then summoned to the throne-room.
Rienzi received them in state, and for once they were cowed into submission. Indeed, they expected nothing less than sentence of death; and if any of them had been in Rienzi's place he would have lost no time in pronouncing this sentence. But as we have before seen, the chief fault of Rienzi was too great faith in the promises of other men. Now it led him into the great mistake of his life. To the utter surprise of the prisoners, the Tribune addressed them in words of kindness and pardon.
"Friends," he said quietly, "I have been deeply grieved by the outbreak for which ye are now in chains. As concerns my own life, I care not a straw. I will gladly offer it up at any moment for the good of my country. But in your late attack I cannot but see that ye were aiming at my country rather than me. Ye were violating your words. Ye were breaking the laws. If I regarded only the justice of the case and the requests of my people, I should order you to immediate execution; for this ye have deserved. But the teachings of holy church are that we shall temper our deeds with mercy. I have therefore asked the people, whom ye have offended, to forgive you for my sake. This they will do if ye renew your allegiance,—promising solemnly upon your honour as gentlemen and Christians to respect the laws of the people and my authority as their representative."
During this speech the barons looked at one another in doubt and amazement. Never had they heard its like. Their whole lives had been spent under the principle of "kill or be killed," and the nobility of this young dreamer struck no responsive note in their own breasts. But when he ended his speech of pardon with the condition that they take a new oath of allegiance, they saw it was their only hope of escape. And so they all promised, though sullenly and reluctantly, and each one resolving in his heart to pay no heed to a promise wrung from him by force of circumstances.