At this moment, foremost among a little group of horsemen, Carrara cantered toward him, black-eyed, smiling, richly dressed, a plumed cap between his smooth white fingers.
"Farewell, Carrara," said Mastino. "Count von Schulembourg is second in command. I leave all to your discretion, subject to my orders already given."
Giacomo bowed, but made no reply other than his smiling eyes. His meditated treasons were ripe for execution, and he could scarce contain himself at the good fortune of it; Visconti's messenger had reached him the same day that Della Scala rode away. There remained only Conrad.
"Till to-morrow at noon," murmured Carrara, repeating Della Scala's last words, as he watched him ride away. "An attack on Milan, in less than a week! You are mad for a woman's silly face—in less than a week I shall have joined Visconti."
Visconti understood the art of bribery, and knew whom to bribe. Carrara, only waiting in the hope of it, had caught eagerly at the bait, and by the returning messenger had agreed to join Visconti and leave Della Scala shorn of more than half his forces. And Mastino, by his absence, had made it child's play. As Carrara returned now to his own tent, thinking and scheming, a captain of mercenaries galloped up.
"The prisoners, my lord, captured by some of Count von Schulembourg's men, in the scuffle outside Milan yesterday, are being brought into the camp—is it to you or to him we bring them?"
Carrara fingered his bridle.
"Take them to the castle," he said at last. "I myself will see them presently."
He glanced over his shoulder at Count Conrad's tent. The embroidered entrance was closed, the black and yellow eagles fluttered idly over it—there was no sign of the young German.