Chapter 8.II. Adrian Once More the Guest of Montreal.
Montreal was sitting at the head of a table, surrounded by men, some
military, some civil, whom he called his councillors, and with whom he
apparently debated all his projects. These men, drawn from various cities,
were intimately acquainted with the internal affairs of the several states
to which they belonged. They could tell to a fraction the force of a
signor, the wealth of a merchant, the power of a mob. And thus, in his
lawless camp, Montreal presided, not more as a general than a statesman.
Such knowledge was invaluable to the chief of the Great Company. It
enabled him to calculate exactly the time to attack a foe, and the sum to
demand for a suppression of hostilities. He knew what parties to deal with
- where to importune - where to forbear. And it usually happened that, by
some secret intrigue, the appearance of Montreal's banner before the walls
of a city was the signal for some sedition or some broil within. It may be
that he thus also promoted an ulterior, as well as his present, policy.
The divan were in full consultation when an officer entered, and whispered
a few words in Montreal's ear. His eyes brightened. "Admit him," he said
hastily. "Messires," he added to his councillors, rubbing his hands, "I
think our net has caught our bird. Let us see."
At this moment the drapery was lifted and the Knight admitted.
"How!" muttered Montreal, changing colour, and in evident disappointment.
"Am I to be ever thus balked?"
"Sir Walter de Montreal," said the prisoner, "I am once more your guest.
In these altered features you perhaps scarcely recognise Adrian di
Castello."
"Pardon me, noble Signor," said Montreal, rising with great courtesy; "the
mistake of my varlets disturbed my recollection for a moment. - I rejoice
once more to press a hand that has won so many laurels since last we
parted. Your renown has been grateful to my ears. Ho!" continued the
chieftain, clapping his hands, "see to the refreshment and repose of this
noble Cavalier and his attendants. Lord Adrian, I will join you
presently."
Adrian withdrew. Montreal, forgetful of his councillors, traversed his
tent with hasty strides; then summoning the officer who had admitted
Adrian, he said, "Count Landau still keeps the pass?"
"Yes, General!"
"Hie thee fast back, then - the ambuscade must tarry till nightfall. We
have trapped the wrong fox."
The officer departed, and shortly afterwards Montreal broke up the divan.
He sought Adrian, who was lodged in a tent beside his own.
"My Lord," said Montreal, "it is true that my men had orders to stop every
one on the roads towards Florence. I am at war with that city. Yet I
expected a very different prisoner from you. Need I add, that you and your
men are free?"
"I accept the courtesy, noble Montreal, as frankly as it is rendered. May
I hope hereafter to repay it? Meanwhile permit me, without any disrespect,
to say that had I learned the Grand Company was in this direction, I should
have altered my course. I had heard that your arms were bent (somewhat to
my mind more nobly) against Malatesta, the tyrant of Rimini!"
"They were so. He was my foe; he is my tributary. We conquered him. He
paid us the price of his liberty. We marched by Asciano upon Sienna. For
sixteen thousand florins we spared that city; and we now hang like a
thunderbolt over Florence, which dared to send her puny aid to the defence
of Rimini. Our marches are forced and rapid and our camp in this plain but
just pitched."
"I hear that the Grand Company is allied with Albornoz, and that its
General is secretly the soldier of the Church. Is it so?"
"Ay - Albornoz and I understand one another," replied Montreal, carelessly;
"and not the less so that we have a mutual foe; whom both are sworn to
crush, in Visconti, the archbishop of Milan."
"Visconti! the most potent of the Italian princes. That he has justly
incurred the wrath of the Church I know - and I can readily understand that
Innocent has revoked the pardon which the intrigues of the Archbishop
purchased from Clement VI. But I do not see clearly why Montreal should
willingly provoke so dark and terrible a foe."
Montreal smiled sternly. "Know you not," he said, "the vast ambition of
that Visconti? By the Holy Sepulchre, he is precisely the enemy my soul
leaps to meet! He has a genius worthy to cope with Montreal's. I have
made myself master of his secret plans - they are gigantic! In a word, the
Archbishop designs the conquest of all Italy. His enormous wealth
purchases the corrupt - his dark sagacity ensnares the credulous - his
daring valour awes the weak. Every enemy he humbles - every ally he
enslaves. This is precisely the Prince whose progress Walter de Montreal
must arrest. For this (he said in a whisper as to himself) is precisely
the Prince who, if suffered to extend his power, will frustrate the plans
and break the force of Walter de Montreal."
Adrian was silent, and for the first time a suspicion of the real nature of
the Provencal's designs crossed his breast.
"But, noble Montreal," resumed the Colonna, "give me, if your knowledge
serves, as no doubt it does, - give me the latest tidings of my native
city. I am Roman, and Rome is ever in my thoughts."
"And well she may," replied Montreal, quickly. "Thou knowest that
Albornoz, as Legate of the Pontiff, led the army of the Church into the
Papal Territories. He took with him Cola di Rienzi. Arrived at Monte
Fiascone, crowds of Romans of all ranks hastened thither to render homage
to the Tribune. The Legate was forgotten in the popularity of his
companion. Whether or not Albornoz grew jealous - for he is proud as
Lucifer - of the respect paid to the Tribune, or whether he feared the
restoration of his power, I cannot tell. But he detained him in his camp,
and refused to yield him to all the solicitations and all the deputations
of the Romans. Artfully, however, he fulfilled one of the real objects of
Rienzi's release. Through his means he formally regained the allegiance of
Rome to the Church, and by the attraction of his presence swelled his camp
with Roman recruits. Marching to Viterbo, Rienzi distinguished himself
greatly in deeds of arms against the tyrant ("Vita di Cola di Rienzi".)
John di Vico. Nay, he fought as one worthy of belonging to the Grand
Company. This increased the zeal of the Romans; and the city disgorged
half its inhabitants to attend the person of the bold Tribune. To the
entreaties of these worthy citizens (perhaps the very men who had before
shut up their darling in St. Angelo) the crafty Legate merely replied, 'Arm
against John di Vico - conquer the tyrants of the Territory - re-establish
the patrimony of St. Peter, and Rienzi shall then be proclaimed Senator,
and return to Rome.'
"These words inspired the Romans with so great a zeal, that they willingly
lent their aid to the Legate. Aquapendente, Bolzena yielded, John di Vico
was half reduced and half terrified into submission, and Gabrielli, the
tyrant of Agobbio, has since succumbed. The glory is to the Cardinal, but
the merit with Rienzi."
"And now?"
"Albornoz continued to entertain the Senator-Tribune with great splendour
and fair words, but not a word about restoring him to Rome. Wearied with
this suspense, I have learned by secret intelligence that Rienzi has left
the camp, and betaken himself with few attendants to Florence, where he has
friends, who will provide him with arms and money to enter Rome."
"Ah then! now I guess," said Adrian, with a half smile, "for whom I was
mistaken!"
Montreal blushed slightly. "Fairly conjectured!" said he.
"Meanwhile, at Rome," continued the Provencal - "at Rome, your worthy
House, and that of the Orsini, being elected to the supreme power,
quarrelled among themselves, and could not keep the authority they had won.
Francesco Baroncelli, (This Baroncelli, who has been introduced to the
reader in a former portion of this work, is called by Matteo Villani "a man
of vile birth and little learning - he had been a Notary of the Capitol."
In the midst of the armed dissensions between the Barons, which followed
the expulsion of Rienzi, Baroncelli contrived to make himself Master of the
Capitol, and of what was considered an auxiliary of no common importance -
viz. the Great Bell, by whose alarum Rienzi had so often summoned to arms
the Roman people. Baroncelli was crowned Tribune, clothed in a robe of
gold brocade, and invested with the crozier-sceptre of Rienzi. At first,
his cruelty against the great took the appearance of protection to the
humble; but the excesses of his sons (not exaggerated in the text), and his
own brutal but bold ferocity, soon made him execrated by the people, to
whom he owed his elevation. He had the folly to declare against the Pope;
and this it really was that mainly induced Innocent to restore, and oppose
to their New Demagogue, the former and more illustrious Tribune.
Baroncelli, like Rienzi, was excommunicated; and in his instance, also, the
curse of the Church was the immediate cause of his downfall. In attempting
flight he was massacred by the mob, December, 1353. Some, however, have
maintained that he was slain in combat with Rienzi; and others, by a
confusion of dates, have made him succeed to Rienzi on the death of the
latter. - Matteo Villani, lib. iii. cap. 78. Osservaz. Stor. di Zefirino
Re. MS. Vat. Rip. dal Bzovio, ann. 1353. N. 2.) a new demagogue, a humble
imitator of Rienzi, rose upon the ruins of the peace broken by the nobles,
obtained the title of Tribune, and carried about the very insignia used by
his predecessor. But less wise than Rienzi, he took the antipapal party.
And the Legate was thus enabled to play the papal demagogue against the
usurper. Baroncelli was a weak man, his sons committed every excess in
mimicry of the highborn tyrants of Padua and Milan. Virgins violated and
matrons dishonoured, somewhat contrasted the solemn and majestic decorum of
Rienzi's rule; - in fine, Baroncelli fell massacred by the people. And
now, if you ask what rules Rome, I answer, 'It is the hope of Rienzi.'"
"A strange man, and various fortunes. What will be the end of both!"
"Swift murder to the first, and eternal fame to the last," answered
Montreal, calmly. "Rienzi will be restored; that brave phoenix will wing
its way through storm and cloud to its own funereal pyre: I foresee, I
compassionate, I admire. - And then," added Montreal, "I look beyond!"
"But wherefore feel you so certain that, if restored, Rienzi must fall?"
"Is it not clear to every eye, save his, whom ambition blinds? How can
mortal genius, however great, rule that most depraved people by popular
means? The Barons - (you know their indomitable ferocity) - wedded to
abuse, and loathing every semblance to law; the Barons, humbled for a
moment, will watch their occasion, and rise. The people will again desert.
Or else, grown wise in one respect by experience, the new Senator will see
that popular favour has a loud voice, but a recreant arm. He will, like
the Barons, surround himself by foreign swords. A detachment from the
Grand Company will be his courtiers; they will be his masters! To pay them
the people must be taxed. Then the idol is execrated. No Italian hand can
govern these hardy demons of the north; they will mutiny and fall away. A
new demagogue will lead on the people, and Rienzi will be the victim. Mark
my prophecy!"
"And then the 'beyond' to which you look?"
"Utter prostration of Rome, for new and long ages; God makes not two
Rienzis; or," said Montreal, proudly, "the infusion of a new life into the
worn-out and diseased frame, - the foundation of a new dynasty. Verily,
when I look around me, I believe that the Ruler of nations designs the
restoration of the South by the irruptions of the North; and that out of
the old Franc and Germanic race will be built up the thrones of the future
world!"
As Montreal thus spoke, leaning on his great war-sword, with his fair and
heroic features - so different, in their frank, bold, fearless expression,
from the dark and wily intellect that characterises the lineaments of the
South - eloquent at once with enthusiasm and thought - he might have seemed
no unfitting representative of the genius of that northern chivalry of
which he spake. And Adrian half fancied that he saw before him one of the
old Gothic scourges of the Western World.
Their conversation was here interrupted by the sound of a trumpet, and
presently an officer entering, announced the arrival of ambassadors from
Florence.
"Again you must pardon me, noble Adrian," said Montreal, "and let me claim
you as my guest at least for tonight. Here you may rest secure, and on
parting, my men shall attend you to the frontiers of whatsoever territory
you design to visit."
Adrian, not sorry to see more of a man so celebrated, accepted the
invitation.
Left alone, he leaned his head upon his hand, and soon became lost in his
reflections.
