'They are growing fresh ones.' Venegono came to his feet again, his weariness forgotten in his excitement. 'Since della Torre's secret return a month ago, orators have been sent to Theodore of Montferrat, to the battered Vignati, to the Esti, and even to Estorre Visconti, to invite them into a league.'
Bellarion laughed. 'Let them league. If they are so mad as to do so, Facino will smash their league into shards when this Bergamo business is over. You forget that under his hand is the strongest army in Italy to-day. We muster over twelve thousand men.'
'My God! I seem to be listening to Facino himself.' Venegono slobbered in his excitement, his eyes wild. 'It was thus he answered me.'
'Why, then, have troubled to come to me?'
'In the hope that you would see what he will not. You talk as if the army were all. You forget that Gian Maria is a thing of venom, like the emblem of his accursed house. Where there is venom and the will to use it, beware the occasion. If anything should happen to Facino, what hope will remain for the Ghibellines of Milan?'
'What should happen to Facino? At what are you hinting, man?'
Venegono looked at him between rage and compassion. 'Where is Mombelli?' he asked. 'Why is he not with Facino now that Facino needs him? Do you know?'
'But is he not with Facino? Has he not yet arrived?'
'Arrived? Why was he ever withdrawn? To be made physician to the Duke. A pretext, my friend, to deprive Facino of his healing services. Do you know that since his coming to Milan he has not been seen? There are rumours that he is dead, that the Duke has murdered him.'
Bellarion considered. Then he shrugged. 'Your imagination fools you, Venegono. If Gian Maria proposed to strike Facino, he would surely attempt something more active and effective.'