Would I bear it? Dear God! To achieve
the end in view I would have spent my remaining days
in motley, making sport for grooms and kitchen wenches.
Some such answer did I make him, and he smiled his
satisfaction.
“You shall journey as you are,” he bade
me. “I am guided by my sister, assured
that the coat of a Fool is stouter protection than
the best hauberk ever tempered. When you have
done your errand come you back to me, and you shall
have employment better suited to one who bears the
name of Biancomonte.”
“You may depend upon me in this, my lord,”
I promised gravely. “I shall not fail
you.”
“It is well” said he; and those wondrous
eyes of his rested again upon my face. “How
soon can you set out?”
“At once, my lord. Does not the by-word
say that a fool makes little preparation for a journey?”
He nodded, and moved to a coffer, a beautiful piece
of Venetian work in ultramarine and gold. From
this he took a heavy bag.
“There,” said he, “you will find
the best of all travelling companions.”
I thanked him, and set the bag on the crook of my left
arm, and by its weight I knew how true he was to the
notorious splendour of his race. “And this,”
said he, “is a talisman that may serve to help
you out of any evil plight, and open many a door that
you may find locked.” And he handed me
a signet ring on which was graven the steer that is
the emblem of the House of Borgia.
He raised aloft the hand on which was glistening the
sacred amethyst—two fingers crooked and
two erect. Wondering what this should mean, I
stared inquiry.
“Kneel,” he bade me. And realising
what he would be about, I sank on to my knees whilst
he murmured the Apostolic benediction over my bowed
head. The rushes of the floor were the only witnesses
of the smile that crept to my lips at this sudden
assumption of his churchly office by that most worldly
prince.
THE LIVERIES OF SANTAFIOR
Such preparations as I had to make were soon complete.
Although it was agreed that I was to travel in the
motley, yet, in my lately-born shame of that apparel,
I decided that I would conceal it as best might be,
revealing it only should the need arise. Moreover,
it was incumbent that I should afford myself more
protection against the inclement January night than
that of my foliated cape, my crested cap and silken
hose. So, a black cloak, heavy and ample, a broad-brimmed
hat, and a pair of riding boots of untanned leather
were my further equipment. In the lining of one
of those boots I concealed the Lord Cesare’s
package; his money—some twenty ducats—I
carried in a belt about my waist, and his ring I set
boldly on my finger.
Few moments did it need me to make ready, yet fewer,
it seems, would the Borgia impatience have had me
employ; for scarce was I booted when someone knocked
at my door. I opened, and there entered a very
mountain of a man, whose corselet flashed back the
yellow light of my tapers, as might have done a mirror,
and whose harsh voice barked out to ask if I was ready.
