“Dog!” I muttered softly, “your
knowledge shall be the death of you.”
He drew away from me at last, and during the moments
that I spent in readjusting my visor he sallied, and
charged me again. His blustering was gone and
his face grown pale, for such blows as mine could not
have been without effect. Not a doubt of it
but he was taken with amazement to find such fighting
qualities in a Fool—an amazement that must
have eclipsed even that of finding Boccadoro in the
armour of Giovanni Sforza.
Again he swung his sword in that favourite stroke
of his; but this time I caught the edge upon my mace,
and ere he could recover I aimed a blow straight at
his face. He lowered his head, like a bull on
the point of charging, and so my blow descended again
upon his morion, but with a force that rolled him,
senseless, from the saddle.
Before I could take a breathing space I was beset
by, at least, a dozen of his followers who had stood
at hand during the encounter, never doubting that
victory must be ultimately with their invincible captain.
They drove me back foot by foot, fighting lustily,
and performing—it was said afterwards by
the anxious ones that watched us from the Castle, among
whom was Madonna Paola—such deeds of strength
and prowess as never romancer sang of in his wildest
flight of fancy.
My men had suffered sorely, but the brave Giacomo
still held them together, fired by the example that
I set him, until in the end the day was ours.
Discouraged by the disabling of their captain, so
soon as they had gathered him up our opponents thought
of nothing but retreat; and retreat they did, hotly
pursued by us, and never allowed to pause or slacken
rein until we had hurled them out of the town of Pesaro,
to get them back to Cesare Borgia with the tale of
their ignominious discomfiture.
THE FALL OF PESARO
As we rode back through the town of Pesaro, some fifty
men of the six score that had sallied from the Castle
a half-hour ago, we found the streets well-nigh deserted,
the rebellious citizens having fled back to the shelter
of their homes, like rats to their burrows in time
of peril.
As we advanced through the shambles that we had left
about the Castle gates, it occurred to me that within
the courtyard a crowd would be waiting to receive
and welcome me, and it became necessary to devise some
means of avoiding this reception. I beckoned
Giacomo to my side.
“Let it be given out that I will speak to no
man until I have rendered thanks to Heaven for this
signal victory,” I muttered to the unsuspecting
Albanian. “Do you clear a way for me so
soon a we are within.”
He obeyed me so well that when the bridge had been
let down, he preceded me with a couple of his men
and gently but firmly pressed back those that would
have approached—among the first of whom
were Madonna Paola and her brother.
