“Body of God! Do you defy me?” I cried. “Am I Lord of Mondolfo, or am I a lackey in my own house? You'ld best obey me ere I break you, Ser Rinolfo. We shall see whether the men will take my orders,” I added confidently.
The faintest smile illumined his dark face. “The men will not stir a finger at the bidding of any but Madonna the Countess and myself,” he answered hardily.
It was by an effort that I refrained from striking him. And then my mother spoke again.
“It is as Ser Rinolfo says,” she informed me. “So cease this futile resistance, sir son, and accept the expiation that is offered you.”
I looked at her, she avoiding my glance.
“Madonna, I cannot think that it is so,” said I. “These men have known me since I was a little lad. Many of them have followed the fortunes of my father. They'll never turn their backs upon his son in the hour of his need. They are not all so inhuman as my mother.”
“You mistake, sir,” said Rinolfo. “Of the men you knew but one or two remain. Most of our present force has been enrolled by me in the past month.”
This was defeat, utter and pitiful. His tone was too confident, he was too sure of his ground to leave me a doubt as to what would befall if I made appeal to his knavish followers. My arms fell to my sides, and I looked at Gervasio. His face was haggard, and his eyes were very full of sorrow as they rested on me.
“It is true, Agostino,” he said.
And as he spoke, Rinolfo limped out of the room to fetch the Captain of Justice, as my mother had bidden him; and his lips smiled cruelly.