"Maybe it would not. It was certainly before the Visconti's rule began," and he looked down the table with a smile at the dark face of Martin della Torre.
"And now the plans, de Lana—Novara to Magenta, Magenta to Vercelli."
He swept the glasses still further back, and spread the parchment de Lana handed him on the colored marble table.
"Vercelli—we hold Vercelli, de Lana?" The officers moved up closer, leaning over the table.
"We hold Vercelli—and Magenta."
Visconti placed a silver goblet to keep the parchment down, and traced the route with the point of his dagger.
"To Turin—to Cuneo—as near as we dare to the stiff-necked Genoese, and we have circled Piedmont."
"And these same Genoese?"
"Let them keep quiet," said Visconti, sheathing his dagger and leaning back, "and they may keep Genoa; we have larger game in view—the Empire. From the walls of Novara the Alps are to be seen, from the walls of Magenta they hide half the sky, from Turin one may touch them, and so we go closer——"