'You are not required to be,' Carmagnola assured him. 'You may stand aside, my lord, and allow justice to take its course.'
'Sirs,' the Princess appealed to them, 'let me implore you again, at least to send him to the Duke. Let the responsibility of his death lie with his master.'
Carmagnola rose. 'Madonna, what you ask would lead to a mutiny. To-morrow either I send Bellarion's head to his ally in Vercelli, or the men will be out of hand and there will be an end to this campaign. Dismiss your doubts and your fears. His guilt is crystal clear. You need but remember his avowed intention of raising the siege, to see in whose interest he works.'
Heavy-eyed and heavy-hearted she sat, tormented by doubt now that she was face to face with decision where hitherto no single doubt had been.
'You never asked him what alternative he proposed,' she reminded him.
'To what end? That glib dissembler would have fooled us with fresh falsehoods.'
Belluno got to his feet. He had been manifesting impatience for some moments. 'Have we leave to go, my lord? This matter is at an end.'
Ugolino da Tenda followed his example. 'The men below are growing noisier. It is time we pacified them with our decision.'
'Aye, in God's name.' Carmagnola waved them away, and himself strode off from the table towards the hearth. He stirred the logs with his boot and sent an explosion of sparks flying up the chimney. 'Bear him word of our decision, Belluno. Bid him prepare for death. He shall have until daybreak to-morrow to make his soul.'
'O God! If we should be wrong!' groaned the Princess.