“You have had the laugh of me,” he snarled, fury now ringing in his voice. “But ere you die you may regret it that you mocked me.”
He turned to the executioner.
“Strip him,” he commanded fiercely. “He shall not hang as I intended—at least not before we have torn every bone of his body from its socket. To the cord with him!” And he pointed to the torture at the end of the hall.
The executioner made shift to obey him when suddenly Madonna Paola leapt to her feet, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with a new excitement.
“Is there none here,” he cried, appealing to Ramiro’s officers, “that will draw his sword in the service of his overlord, the Duca Valentino? There stands a traitor, and there one who has proven his loyalty to Cesare Borgia. The Duke is likely to demand a heavy price for the life of that faithful one to whose warning he owes his escape of assassination. Will none of you side now with the right that anon you may stand well with Cesare Borgia when he comes? Or, by idly allowing this traitor to have his way, will you participate in the punishment that must be his?”
It was the very spur they needed. And scarce was that final question of hers flung at those knaves, when the answer came from one of them. It was that same sturdy Lupone.
“I, for one, am for the Duke,” said he, and his sword leapt from its scabbard. “I draw my iron for Valentino. Let every loyal man do likewise and seize this traitor.” And with his sword he pointed at Ramiro.
In an instant three others bared their weapons and ranged themselves beside him. The remaining two—of whom was Lucagnolo—folded their hands, manifesting by that impassivity that they were minded to take neither one side nor the other.
The carnifex paused in his labours of undressing me, and the affair promised to grow interesting. But Ramiro did not stand his ground. Fury swelling his veins and crimsoning his huge face, he sprang to the door and bellowed to his guards. Six men trooped in almost at once, and reinforced by the halberdiers that had been guarding me, they made short work of the resistance of those four officers. In as little time as it takes me to record it, they were disarmed and ranged against the wall behind those guards and others that had come to their support—to be dealt with by Ramiro after he had dealt with me.
His fear of Cesare’s coming was put by for the moment in his fierce lust to be avenged upon me who had betrayed him and the officers who had turned against him. Madonna sank back once more in her despair. The little spark that she had so bravely fanned to life had been quenched almost as soon as it had shown itself.