The Honour of Savelli: A Romance

by S. Levett Yeats

This, however, was not possible, for in a few minutes I found myself with the volume in my lap, my eyes staring into vacancy, and thinking of St. Armande. I began to try and analyse my feelings towards him, but beyond that I was certain he had inspired me with a strong friendship I could go no further. It was this friendship that urged me to accede to his request to be allowed to share in my coming adventure, although I was well able to see that he was anything but fitted for a desperate deed. Still somehow, I could not find it in my heart to refuse him, although I felt I was doing an unwise thing. I consoled myself, or rather tried to console myself, with the reflection that he would have to take his chance like any other man of my troop, and if he fell, well, there was an end of it, and of him. Yet I was not comfortable, and then, to give my thoughts another turn, I bent them on other matters, and it came to my mind that it was a little surprising I had not heard of D'Entrangues in Rome.

When Bayard told me of his petition to the king, I had asked whether anything was known of D'Entrangues' movements, and he said he did not know. It was curious, too, how I appeared to have entirely mastered that mad longing for revenge, which at first held me. It was a direct answer, as it were, to my prayer, and, so thinking, I began to realise how close in reality a man is to the divine power, which he often, too often, thinks far from him. And a certain feeling of satisfaction came upon me at the thought of the strength I had gained by my victory over myself. Indeed, I felt sure, that if my enemy was in my power at the moment that I would not injure him, but let him go without harm.

In this manner, attempting to read, and trying to think, without very much success in either undertaking, I passed my time until my lackey came to assist me to dress, in order to be ready to accompany the cardinal to the Vatican. After dressing, I descended the stairs, and mounting Castor, placed myself at the head of my men, and joined De Briconnet at the grand entrance of the palace. The captain of the cardinal's guard had his full force of thirty swords out, it being a reception night of some importance, and with great courtesy allowed me to place Jacopo and my six men in front of his troop, drawing his own horse alongside of mine, and discussing, with much cunning, of falconry, in which he was more than an adept.

We had to wait some little time for the cardinal, but at length he came, accompanied as usual by Bayard, and with him all the gentlemen of his suite including St. Armande. On reaching the foot of the stairs, D'Amboise enquired somewhat sharply for me; but changed his tone to one of pleasant greeting when he saw I was in waiting.

"St. Dennis!" he exclaimed, "I thought you were not coming after all."

We had but a few yards to ride, and our passage along the Via Alessandrina to the Portone Bronse, took but a few minutes. As we rode up there, we kept the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza di S. Pietro to our left, and saw before us the walls of the new cathedral of St. Peter, then about four or five feet high, the ruins of the old church still standing around it. At the time I speak of, nothing had been done for about fifty years towards advancing the work, begun by Nicholas V., and the great design, afterwards altered and put into execution by Giuliano della Rovere, when he became Pope as Julius II., was then in a skeleton form, looking more like the remains of some sacked shrine than the beginning of a new work. The fifty years of neglect having the effect of making the new work almost as ruinous as the old church founded by Constantine.

Although, as I have mentioned, there were to be great doings at the Vatican that evening, there was no crowd assembled in the Piazza of St. Peter. It was full of soldiers, but the people of Rome, who might have been expected to be there in numbers, to see the processions of nobles and their followers, were conspicuous by their absence. Men-at-arms there were in store, but no happy, jostling crowd of the commons, for a terror was on Rome, and men kept as far as possible from the Borgo. The piazza was, however, brilliantly lit up, and the body guards of the various notables were strictly confined to the places assigned to them, order being maintained by about a thousand men of the Spanish guards of the Pope, under the immediate command of De Leyva. The light from the lamps was reflected back by the glittering arms of the men, and the various ensigns of the great houses were distinctly visible. The single column of Colonna, rose side by side with the eagle and griffin of Borghese, the six lilies of Farnese trembled in the wind, near Colleoni's two-headed lion, and a little in the background was drawn up a solid looking body of cavalry, over whom fluttered the standard of the Borgia; these were Cesare's own lambs, as he called them, veterans of many a hard fought field.

At the entrance steps we halted, and were met by two chamberlains, who, with their staffs of office in their hands, ushered us to the bronze gates, by which we were to enter the Vatican. We passed through amidst a blare of trumpets, each side of the passage being lined with pikemen, standing stiff and motionless as statues. Our way led to the Torre Borgia, the portion of the Vatican occupied by Alexander, and the distant strains of music caught our ears as we went on, and shortly entered the noble reception rooms, which were crowded with people.

The Pope himself stood at the extreme end of the apartment, surrounded by a brilliant group of ladies and gentlemen, and as we came up to make our duty, I had good opportunity of observing him. Alexander was fully seventy years of age, but so hale, hearty, and strong-looking, that he might have easily passed for a man of middle age. He was dressed as a private gentleman, in Spanish costume, with high boots, a jewelled dagger at his side, and a smart velvet cap on his head. But the face itself struck me as remarkable to a degree. He was clean shaven, so that all the features were clearly discernible, the heavy sensual chin, the wide cruel mouth, surmounted by a nose almost Jewish in its curve, the retreating forehead bulging over the eyes, and the eyes themselves, in which there seemed to burn the fires of insatiable appetite, and passion without end; all these, combined together to make up a countenance which was a fitting mask for the evil soul within. I made my obeisance with the others, stifling with difficulty a sudden desire to fling aside the hand I touched, and walk out of the room.

I moved slightly aside, and watched the various groups as they wandered to and fro, or stood together conversing; and the hum of voices, the gay strains of music, and the brilliant dresses made up together a scene well worth the looking at.