But there was no response, and the onlookers remained silent. It was as though a cold mist had settled upon the sunny morning, and Murat hastened on to Monteleone, where he trusted to the gratitude of the citizens for many favours which he had done them in the past. But two Bourbon adherents, a certain Captain Trentacapilli, and an agent of the Duke dell’ Infantado, hastily collected a following of men and weapons and met Joachim on the road, where they opened fire upon him.
He, however, did not return their fire, but only saluted them, whereupon, taking heart from his inaction, they fired again, killing one and injuring another of his followers. The remainder prepared to defend themselves, but Joachim prevented them.
Now a crowd began to collect, and very soon the only avenue of escape for Joachim was by the steep cliff, down which he ran, hailing, as he arrived upon the beach, his ship, which was still but a little distance from the land. His captain, Barbara, though—another upon whom Joachim had lavished every sort of kindness and whom he had raised from nothing at all to the rank of a baron—paid no heed to him, and sailed away with the booty which he had on board.
Then Joachim, despairing at last, attempted to make his escape in a small skiff which lay on the beach; but it was too heavy for him to move, and the next moment Trentacapilli and his rabble were upon him, striking him in the face and tearing off the jewels which he wore upon his cap and breast, and bellowing their insults at him, while he was being led up to the grey, straggling castle; and only when he was inside the gates and out of sight did their howling cease.
A tiny light penetrated through the gloom that surrounded him when Captain Stratti, upon hearing who the prisoner was, treated him with marked deference and respect, addressing him as “Majesty” and securing for him the best room that he could. General Nunziante also, upon arriving, paid him every mark of respect, and endeavoured, as far as it was possible for him to do, to show his sympathy for the unfortunate and betrayed captive.
This treatment appears to have restored Murat considerably, and that night he slept soundly and peacefully. No idea of the sort of vengeance which Ferdinand and his abominable Government were preparing for him appears to have entered his head, and he still seems to have thought it possible to come to some arrangement with that royal hyena, for he remarked to Nunziante, the day before his execution, that it would be easy to come to an accommodation with Ferdinand by the latter yielding to him the kingdom of Naples and by his yielding to Ferdinand his claims to Sicily.
Ferdinand, in the meanwhile, having recovered from the nightmare of terror which had seized him upon the receipt of the news of Joachim’s landing at Pizzo, allowed his joy and relief full play. At first he wanted to imprison every one who could even be suspected of a suspicion in the direction of Muratism, but his courage failed him, and he had to content himself with dispatching Canosa—who may, I think, without injustice, be classed among the three or four worst and most despicable characters that ever infested that sunny land—into Calabria with carte blanche to represent his master.
The order for Murat’s execution was sent down by signal telegraph, and, that done, a court-martial was composed to try him! Seven “judges” were chosen, three of whom, besides the Procurator-General, had been raised from poverty and obscurity and loaded with money and honours by Murat himself; and, in order to save themselves from any taint of common gratitude or even decency, which might bring them into disfavour with their present sovereign lord, they first of all thanked the latter humbly for deigning to make use of them, and by their bearing and remarks during the trial made it impossible for Murat to sit in the same room with them even had he desired to do so.
In the round tower Joachim spent the last night of his life, mercifully undisturbed by the knowledge of the court which was to go through the farce of trying him. It was long after daylight when Nunziante entered, so softly that the sleeping man did not awaken. Nor did Nunziante arouse him—an act of charity which must surely have been put to his credit when the long roll-call summoned him in his turn.
On Joachim’s awakening and opening his eyes, Nunziante broke the news of his approaching trial as gently as possible.