Love-At-Arms

Rafael Sabatini

Description

Get set for a rip-roaring yarn. Set in early modern Italy, Love-At-Arms skillfully combines all of the elements that have won Rafael Sabatini's work a worldwide following: non-stop action, surprising plot twists, and plenty of swoon-worthy romance. Settle in with Sabatini's Love-At-Arms for an exceptionally gratifying read.

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775454458
• Langue: English

Extrait

LOVE-AT-ARMS
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RAFAEL SABATINI
 
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Love-At-Arms First published in 1907 ISBN 978-1-775454-45-8 © 2011 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Vox Populi Chapter II - On a Mountain Path Chapter III - Sackcloth and Motley Chapter IV - Monna Valentina Chapter V - Gian Maria Chapter VI - The Amorous Duke Chapter VII - Gonzaga the Insidious Chapter VIII - Among the Dregs of Wine Chapter IX - The "Tratta Di Corde" Chapter X - The Braying of an Ass Chapter XI - Wandering Knights Chapter XII - The Fool's Inquisitiveness Chapter XIII - Gian Maria Makes a Vow Chapter XIV - Fortemani Drinks Water Chapter XV - The Mercy of Francesco Chapter XVI - Gonzaga Unmasks Chapter XVII - The Enemy Chapter XVIII - Treachery Chapter XIX - Plot and Counterplot Chapter XX - The Lovers Chapter XXI - The Penitent Chapter XXII - A Revelation Chapter XXIII - In the Armoury Tower Chapter XXIV - The Interrupted Mass Chapter XXV - The Capitulation of Roccaleone
Chapter I - Vox Populi
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From the valley, borne aloft on the wings of the evening breeze, rosefaintly the tolling of an Angelus bell, and in a goat-herd's hut on theheights above stood six men with heads uncovered and bowed, obeyingits summons to evening prayer. A brass lamp, equipped with three beaks,swung from the grimy ceiling, and, with more smoke than flame, shedan indifferent light, and yet a more indifferent smell, throughout thedarkening hovel. But it sufficed at least to reveal in the accoutrementsand trappings of that company a richness that was the more striking bycontrast with the surrounding squalor.
As the last stroke of the Ave Maria faded on the wind that murmuredplaintively through the larches of the hillside, they piously crossedthemselves, and leisurely resuming their head-gear, they looked at oneanother with questioning glances. Yet before any could voice the inquirythat was in the minds of all, a knock fell upon the rotten timbers ofthe door.
"At last!" exclaimed old Fabrizio da Lodi, in a voice charged withrelief, whilst a younger man of good shape and gay garments strode tothe door in obedience to Fabrizio's glance, and set it wide.
Across the threshold stepped a tall figure under a wide, featherlesshat, and wrapped in a cloak which he loosened as he entered, revealingthe very plainest of raiment beneath. A leather hacketon was tightenedat the waist by a girdle of hammered steel, from which depended on hisleft a long sword with ringed, steel quillons, whilst from behind hisright hip peeped the hilt of a stout Pistoja dagger. His hose of redcloth vanished into boots of untanned leather, laced in front and turneddown at the knees, and completed in him the general appearance of amercenary in time of peace, in spite of which the six nobles, in thatplace of paradoxes, bared their heads anew, and stood in attitudes ofdeferential attention.
He paused a moment to throw off his cloak, of which the young man whohad admitted him hastened to relieve him as readily as if he had beenborn a servitor. He next removed his hat, and allowed it to remainslung from his shoulders, displaying, together with a still youthfulcountenance of surpassing strength and nobility, a mane of jet-blackhair coiffed in a broad net of gold thread—the only article of apparelthat might have suggested his station to be higher than at first hadseemed.
He stepped briskly to the coarse and grease-stained table, about whichthe company was standing, and his black eyes ran swiftly over the facesthat confronted him.
"Sirs," he said at last, "I am here. My horse went lame a half-leaguebeyond Sant' Angelo, and I was constrained to end the journey on foot."
"Your Excellency will be tired," cried Fabrizio, with that readysolicitude which is ever at the orders of the great. "A cup of Pugliawine, my lord. Here, Fanfulla," he called, to the young nobleman who hadacted as usher. But the new-comer silenced him and put the matter asidewith a gesture.
"Let that wait. Time imports as you little dream. It may well be,illustrious sirs, that had I not come thus I had not come at all."
"How?" cried one, expressing the wonder that rose in every mind, even ason every countenance some consternation showed. "Are we betrayed?"
"If you are in case to fear betrayal, it may well be, my friends. As Icrossed the bridge over the Metauro and took the path that leads hither,my eyes were caught by a crimson light shining from a tangle of bushesby the roadside. That crimson flame was a reflection of the setting sunflashed from the steel cap of a hidden watcher. The path took me nearer,and with my hat so set that it might best conceal my face, I was alleyes. And as I passed the spot where that spy was ambushed, I discernedamong the leaves that might so well have screened him, but that the sunhad found his helmet out, the evil face of Masuccio Torri." There was astir among the listeners, and their consternation increased, whilst oneor two changed colour. "For whom did he wait? That was the questionthat I asked myself, and I found the answer that it was for me. If I wasright, he must also know the distance I had come, so that he would notlook to see me afoot, nor yet, perhaps, in garments such as these.And so, thanks to all this and to the hat and cloak in which I closelymasked myself, he let me pass unchallenged."
"By the Virgin!" exclaimed Fabrizio hotly, "I'll swear your conclusionswere wrong. In all Italy it was known to no man beyond us six that youwere to meet us here, and with my hand upon the Gospels I could swearthat not one of us has breathed of it."
He looked round at his companions as if inviting them to bear out hiswords, and they were not slow to confirm what he had sworn, in termsas vehement as his own, until in the end the new-comer waved them intosilence.
"Nor have I breathed it," he assured them, "for I respected yourinjunction, Messer Fabrizio. Still—what did Masuccio there, hidden likea thief, by the roadside? Sirs," he continued, in a slightly alteredtone, "I know not to what end you have bidden me hither, but if aught oftreason lurks in your designs, I cry you beware! The Duke has knowledgeof it, or at least, suspicion. If that spy was not set to watch forme, why, then, he was set to watch for all, that he may anon inform hismaster what men were present at this meeting."
Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders in a contemptuous indifference which wasvoiced by his neighbour Ferrabraccio.
"Let him be informed," sneered the latter, a grim smile upon his ruggedface. "The knowledge will come to him too late."
The new-comer threw back his head, and a look that was half wonder, halfenlightenment gleamed in the black depths of his imperious eyes. He tooka deep breath.
"It would seem, sirs, that I was right," said he, with a touch ofsternness, "and that treason is indeed your business."
"My Lord of Aquila," Fabrizio answered him, "we are traitors to a manthat we may remain faithful and loyal to a State."
"What State?" barked the Lord of Aquila contemptuously.
"The Duchy of Babbiano," came the answer.
"You would be false to the Duke that you may be faithful to the Duchy?"he questioned, scorn running ever stronger in his voice. "Sirs, it is ariddle I'll not pretend to solve."
There fell a pause in which they eyed one another, and their glanceswere almost as the glances of baffled men. They had not looked forsuch a tone from him, and they questioned with their eyes and minds thewisdom of going further. At last, with a half-sigh, Fabrizio da Loditurned once more to Aquila.
"Lord Count," he began, in a calm, impressive voice, "I am an old man;the name I bear and the family from which I spring are honourable alike.You cannot think so vilely of me as to opine that in my old age I shoulddo aught to smirch the fair fame of the one or of the other. To be nameda traitor, sir, is to be given a harsh title, and one, I think, thatcould fit no man less than it fits me or any of these my companions.Will you do me the honour, then, to hear me out, Excellency; and whenyou have heard me, judge us. Nay, more than judgment we ask of you, LordCount. We ask for guidance that we may save our country from the ruinthat threatens it, and we promise you that we will take no step that hasnot your sanction—that is not urged by you."
Francesco del Falco, Count of Aquila, eyed the old noble with a glancethat had changed whilst he spoke, so that from scornful that it hadbeen, it had now grown full of mild wonder and inquiry. He slightlyinclined his head in token of acquiescence.
"I beg that you will speak," was all he said, and Fabrizio wouldforthwith have spoken but that Ferrabraccio intervened to demand thatAquila should pass them his knightly word not to betray them in theevent of his rejection of the proposals they had to make. When he hadgiven them his promise, and they had seated themselves upon such rudestools as the place afforded, Fabrizio resumed his office of spokesman,and unfolded the business upon which he had invited the Count amongthem.
In a brief preamble he touched upon the character of Gian Maria Sforza,the reigning Duke of Babbiano—seated upon its throne by his powerfuluncle, Lodovico Sforza, Lord of Milan. He exposed the man's recklessextravagances, his continued self-indulgence, his carelessness inmatters of statecraft, and his apparent disinclination to fulfil theduties which his high station imposed upon him. On all this Fabriziotouched with most