I looked at my cousin. “In that case,” said I, “I will not name them.”
Falcone, however, was minded to name himself, for with a grunt he made suddenly to rise. But Galeotto stretched an arm across Bianca, and forced the equerry back into his seat.
Cosimo saw and smiled. He was very sure of himself by now.
“The only witness whose word would carry weight would be the late Lord of Pagliano,” he said. “And the prisoner is more crafty than honest in naming one who is dead. Your excellency will know the precise importance to attach to that.”
Again his excellency nodded. Could it indeed be that I was enmeshed? My calm deserted me.
“Will Messer Cosimo tell your excellency under what circumstances the Lord of Pagliano died?” I cried.
“It is yourself should be better able to inform the Court of that,” answered Cosimo quickly, “since he died at Pagliano after you had borne his daughter thither, as we have proof.”
Gonzaga looked at him sharply. “Are you implying, sir, that there is a further crime for which Messer Agostino d'Anguissola should be indicted?” he inquired.
Cosimo shrugged and pursed his lips. “I will not go so far, since the matter of Ettore Cavalcanti's death does not immediately concern me. Besides, there is enough contained in the indictment as it stands.”
The imputation was none the less terrible, and could not fail of an effect upon the minds of the Ten. I was in despair, for at every question it seemed that the tide of destruction rose higher about me. I deemed myself irrevocably lost. The witnesses I might have called were as good as gagged.