“Promise to take me to Rome,” he cried. “Promise me the treasures of Saint Peter's and the Vatican for my soldiers. Promise me Antichrist for myself,” he cried, with a ferocious and stunning laugh, “and I am yours, body and soul.”
“I promise you all you ask,” rejoined Bourbon.
“Then the compact is made,” said Von Frundsberg, striking the table with his tremendous fist, and making all the goblets upon it rattle. “We will march for Lombardy to-morrow. Meanwhile, we will drink confusion to François de Valois. You will pledge me in that toast?” he added, draining his capacious cup.
Bourbon and Marx Sittich did him reason, and the carouse was continued to a late hour.
Bourbon did not allow the ardour of his newly-acquired ally to cool, but held him to his promise to march without delay. When Von Frundsberg ordered his men to get ready, and told them whither they were going, they shouted enthusiastically, feeling sure that if they once entered Italy they would find their way to Rome, whither their leader had engaged to take them.
Proceeding by forced marches, Bourbon conducted his newly-acquired army by Lindau and Feldkirch to Coire, and thence, across the Splugen, into Italy.
When he reappeared at Lodi at the head of this force, Lannoy and Pescara were filled with amazement, and though they congratulated him on his extraordinary success with feigned heartiness, it was easy to perceive they were greatly mortified.
Bourbon laughed secretly at their chagrin. His position was now totally changed in regard to them, for the army he had raised was his own, and only recognised him as general.
“I told you I would bring back twelve thousand men with me,” he said to Pescara. “I have kept my word, as you see.”
“I did not think it possible, I own,” rejoined the other. “You have employed your time well, whereas we have done little during your absence. But De Leyva still holds out.'