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1653 East Mam Street

Rochester. New York 14609 USA

(716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

(71G) 288 - 5989 - Fa%

■•fW-

SIR JOHN
HAWRWOO

MARION

POLR"^
ANGELLOTTI

I,!

SIR JOHN HAWKWOOD

" I had got my .word free and leapt to the »idj oj jhe Princess
She was tense in'every limb but made no s.gn of fright. ^^^^^ ^^^

».

Sir John Haw kwooci

A TALE OF

The White Company in Italy

Marion Polk Aiigcllott^

TORONTO

McCl.l 1^1 AND ^ (JOODCHll.D

LIMITED

11 IT'

Sir John Haitik-vood

TO MY MOTHER

"There's aye thing yet, there's twa thing yet

To brag on that ye know ;
He never, never failed a friend,

And never feared a foe."

SIR JOHN HAWKWOOD

CHAPTER I

BARK STKET.

"Giovanni Della Gvgua !"
The words, subdued yet perfectly audible, fell on
my ears just as I set my foot on the threshold of
the door leading into the palace loggia. A titter
accompanied them, and a buzz of winspering com-
ment followed. Instantly I swung round on my
hee , narrowed my eyes, and glanced keenly about
to discover the author of the jest.

My task was like to prove no easy one. I saw
at once; for all the busy court-yard was thronged
with onlookers who now fixed me with glances of
amusement. A group of pert young pages in white
and gold hvery were gathered round the fountain-
the taunt might have come from one of them, but
I thought not, for they had learned that I was
no safe butt for their tricks. Gorgeous lackeys
stood about m troops, soldiers of the Prince's Guard

and not far from where I stood I perceived a score

Sir John Hawkwood

" r.y own ireTcln^panio^^J^^ -nng^-^
his left shoulder the jVn^ can. ^^^^^^p^^y

silver, which "^'.nies fellows from England
They were dare-dev,l --og-"' ^ ^„d,ies of Italy,
and France and Spam and all the ^^^ ^^

-n who -'<>„-:,r:Jrhave lien held worse
pense of a kmg. or, w^^'J"" . . j ^^sted no time
by most, at the Pope '"•"s;' ' "^"^^ „j i,t, being
il scanning their faces «or stgns^ o g^^^ ^^ ^^

,,„ .ware ^^^^'^'^^^^^ and all entertained a
great of the earth, they "n . „ ■ „y pres-

lead of me that kept ^'^^^^ ^^,,y Jheard
ence, if not always m my absence^^ ^J^,^^ ^ ^^^
tlie taunt even as 1 haa, a j^^^^ ^

o the front of the throng "y \^ay be-
dear view of the turmod which, tney v

Ueved, was sure '» f°"°*;^„,j ,,here I had halted
Not far from *e th«*^^^, ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^„ «

stood a group of ^f '«"'"„ of the Prince of
cupantsof thecotrrt-ahaUdoe ^^^

Verona's own ^"'"tmpty heads, any of them
with splendtd "rn-ent and emp y _^^ ^^ ^^.

likely enough to have attempted ^^^^„j„

p,„seof me whom*eyd^d^otlo^^ Torre, Prince

of the circle ^ """J^ ^ he was my very bitter
Antonio's favorite. Thougn ^^ ^^^_

enemy and tireless '">»s efforts * ^ ^^^^^

I had never felt any T'fe w^a shrewd man and

Sir John Plawkwood j,

that made him better worth gazing at than any
pipture on the palace walls. To-day he stood
among the laughing young courtiers like a king
among h,s subjects, and I had never seen a more
splendid sight than he, in his rose and silver satin
swinging gold-embroidered cloak, and wide hat with
Its plume buckled with jewels. If I gave him a cer-
tain grudging admiration, however. I nevertheless
hated him with all my heart, and so sure was I now
that the whispered taunt had come from him that I
swung about in his direction, one foot poised for
an advance.

At this instant I felt a hand laid on my arm. It
was Michael O'Meara, my Irish lieutenant, who
stood second in authority in my company of mer-
cenanes, and was the only man in all Verona to
whom I gave an absolute trust. "Whist, now, Sir
John tis wrong you are." he whispered in my ear.

ever LTI'. ' ^ '"'^ ^'" ^"^"S'^ *^^t' what-
fighting. He was too thorough an Irishman for
that-nay. at this very moment his blue eyes were
n.. n f;^ ''''^ "^'^'^^''^ '''' ^°^ battle. " 'Twal
voLe X ":r ^V-^--^' - the same low

del Mayno hey call him-blessed saints, 'tis a

jaw of the man who says it ! Shall I be after goin?
up and taking him by the nose, Sir John, and tS
ing him manners to fit his station ?"

,, Sir John lUwkwood

I looked again at the little group » £»"«'«»:
all of whom were gazing at m. m manifest amuse
ment, and exchanging whispers which, tt took smal
wit on my part to guess, were at ny expense The
,„an whom O'Meara had indicated s.oodj.t Ma
Torr.'. elbow, laughing loudly, and w.th an appear
IZoi delighted mockery which I i-'-''^ "-f,
mvself would not last many moments. He might
Z Ln five and fifty years old, and was very
fat and pompous, with shrewd choleric blue eyes
talftried in thick pockets of <^f-^^l^;^,
gray beard carefully cut m a square H.s dress ot
Ireen and gold velvet was magnificent, and he
tad all the manner of a person used to exacting his
Ml due of deference from those about l"™.^' «»
s^ able in one of his rank and i-P^^-- T -ugh
I had never exchanged a word with h m in the
vhdt time I had spent in Ve™na, 1 k-w^^
well enough for a rich noble of the Court, a kins
^an in some distant fashion, of Prince Antonio
Wm elf and therefore treated by every one with a
flattering attention which there was little about him

'° "k frankly, I would have given something
to have^voided a quarrel with him; for the Prince
under whom I now fought, and whose pay was as
generous as his name in Italy was 'vl had veO^
high ideas of his royal dignity, and of the d gn y
of all who belonged to his house. A quarrel wiA
tri Raimondo was plainly not likely to assure or

Sir John Hawkwood ^5

strengthen my position at a Court where I had
already a round number of intriguing enemies, and
prudence counselled me to turn a deaf ear and pro-
ceed on my way. Nevertheless, I did no such thing
Prudence, truth to tell, got little welcome from me
at that time of my life, and recklessness and dare-
deviltry were the chief traits of my character. Had
It been otherwise, I think I should scarcely have
been hailed by all as the greatest free captain of my
time in Europe; for could a cautious, mild-mannered,
amiable man have ruled my mad band of villains
and cutthroats from the four corners of the earth,
and turned them into the best fighters to be found
anywhere for the hiring of those needing defenders?
Moreover, I had so many jealous enemies that my
one hope of safety lay in the name I had won of
being a man unsafe for meddling and very danger-
ous when provoked.

Del Mayno's words had been heard by his own
circle, who greeted them wi'th laughter and applause;
by the pages and lackeys, who grinned and smirked
and stood a-tiptoe to see what would happen next;
by my own men, who were now waiting in sup^
pressed glee to see the discomfiture which they did
not doubt awaited the jester. Should I turn on
my heel and pass on, to-morrow all the city of Ve-
rona would know the part I had played. There was
but one course for me to pursue, and I did pursue
it-not as the result of all these sage reflections, but

Sir John Hawkwood

•\\

\ if

by instinct and at on«. the moment that O'Mcara'.
"iSdrnt':!'" trtce ..«. -parat.d m. from

l-Xetatrd^^"ca,.-

der almost touched mine-the rogue! I ^ew we
tugh that he was hoping -me 'u" M .^ "-;'.

Srnp Tared ; *: haughtily, and Delia Torre
if;, if incensed at my daring in approach-
scowled as .f """^'^ J „, set his head back

shght rt."" as p ^^.^^ J ^p^„j ,„ J

%^ s°::;':V laughmg faces sobered not a
mtle, and unless I am --'*;" fXt.fd'e'*'''

:h^irr^'fmTi'^rn:"of«^

tr ai — i "L G„./i<., if I am not wrong^

Sir John Hawk wood 17

fancy, as I endeavored to show by killing one gen-
tleman who called me by it, disabling three more,
and giving two others such a lesson in sword-play
as they will not forget. But come— no doubt you
are of a merry turn of mind; I would not be too
hard upon you; and then, you are kin to the Prince.
Take a warning from me that I do not greatly love
jests like this, and the matter shall end here."

My tone infuriated him, as I knew it would. He
turned crimson, puflFed out his cheeks with rage,
and squared his shoulders in fierce determination to
crush me. Those about him scowled on me darkly
and muttered curses on my insolence. "I believe,"
Del Mayno said scornfully, "that you are the English
condottiere who fights the Prince's battles for hire.
That is all I know concerning you. As for your
name, it may be John Hawkwood or Giovanni della
Guglia— do you think I have no better use for my
thoughts than the remf ring of how you style
yourself? What are yo doing here before me,
pray? Did you think, because you heard me speak
your name, that I called you ? Not I. Begone, then,
and if you must have company, talk to my lackeys
yonder— they are nearer your rank than I am."

"Now the Virgin pity you, me poor fool, and aid
ye too— for it's yourself will soon be needing aid
most urgent," I heard my irrepressible Irishman
mutter behind me; and a sigh of rapturous anticipa-
tion ran about among my mercenaries. Del Mayno
heard it too, and with rage.

g Sir John Hawkwooil

"Bid your horse-boys be silent when I speak " he
,ried "Ah Sir John llawkwoo.!, you may th.nk
o ru\. .ave " loiters and thieves and bu he, such
;°s famous Com,«.ny of yours, wi-h l;"-^ '~^
and wild words, but you need not h"!* '°J""
hVnobles of Verona. Yes. we know you, brag^rt
drunkard and cntthroa. that you are-bu. never
dream you can frighten me. Sir Ruffian!

hT stoned partly from exhaustion and partly
i„"tar led horror; for on his las. word I had s.,«d
'" ::td hilt and pulled the weapon out, flashmg
^ IZr his eves For a moment he stared at
lTn"ama«m.n,. while the surrounding cir-
S f hL friends gave back a trifle, and O'Meara u^-
f,red an exclamation of blissful content. Del May
"o'^IsaTd with brutal directness, "you are an old
Z\ and bad^y in want of a lesson. You have called
L" John oVthe Needle. Do you not know that a
ZL is a very sharp thing, not one wUh which «o
lest' Then you shall learn it now. Th.s blue
i de in my hand is my needle, and I am gomg to
eive you some experience of .ts powers. Why do
fJu sLd there staring at me like any .mbecde Ge
^our sword out. unless you desire that I should sp..
Jo« while you wait!" And I made a pass w.thm an

'"th^ad'She would quibble at so far lowering
Ws dignity as to meet me sword in hand-bu U had
forgotten *e power of bare steel. Af er an, Ms
TO very pleasant experience to have a blade flashed

Sir John Hawkwood fn

before your eyes, and Lord Raimondo, a powerful
noble, was not used to such attentions. With a
wild snort c f mingled rage and ftar he pulled his
sword loose and came at me in a fury. I gave
an exclamation of triumph. All was as I would
have it now.

The difference in rank which he had forgotten his
friends remembered for him. There was a cry of
horror from the young courtiers. "Insolence!"
shouted Delia Torre. "Come, let us cut down this
adventurer who would butcher the Prince's kins-
man!" For an instant I felt some alarm, but it was
needless,

"I'm thinking you do very well where you are
and that there you'll stay, my jewels," O'Meara re-
marked blandly, and my uneasiness faded as quickly
as It had come. He had poignantly regretted, I
knev/, his own exclusion from the quarrel, and was
overjoyed at an opportunity to mix in it. "Here you
rogues, come aid your captain !" At which my men,
having no mind at all to see the sport spoiled, pushed
roughly in between the courtiers and myself, and
kept a clear space in which Del Mayno and I might
decide the issue as man to man. Under these cir-
cumstances it was child's play for me to do what I
would, for in all my life I have met but three
swordsmen-by name, the Black Prince, Sir John
Chandos, and Bertrand du Guesclin-who could
best me, and Lord Raimondo was as a babe in my
hands. ^

Sir John Hawkwood

"Now, my friend," I said pleasantly, as I turned
his wild thrusts aside, "I am going to amuse myself.
You have had your jest and enjoyed it, no\\r I shall
have mine. I shall not kill you— what good would
that do me?— but if I do not make you cut a poor
figure this day, then let me never besiege a fort or
sack a town again! You are a very poor swords-
man, and I think that even were my eyes blind-
folded I could parry your thrusts without danger.
Do your best, for with this sword of mine — with
my needle, if you please!— I intend to instruct you
how dangerous a matter was your pretty jibe. Now,
gentlemen, I pray your attention, for the play be-
gins!

With that I sent him backward, stumbling and
panting, wildly defending himself from my attacks ;
and I followed him, driving him onward relentlessly,
and executing a series of thrusts at his fat legs which
made him squeal like a frightened pig. Straight
across the court I drove him, and through the gate-
way into the palace loggia ; and close on cur heels
came the soldiers and pages and lackeys, who, be-
side themselves with excitement now, gave vent to
wild outbursts of laughter and cheering, and fairly
danced for glee as the battle went on.

The great loggia was a fair sunny place, the
brightest spot in all the palace. Flowers lay thickly
scattered over tht pavement, which was built of
Verona marble, with alternating blocks of close-
grained cream-color and rich mottled red, forming a

Sir John Hawkwood

Which had a ,„a. Z?°" t cTnTf afd"^ '^7^
staircase leading down ,o the court .^ ".'"*"«
fcry, through the arcl,« "' ''°"'*- ">«<• the gal-
masses of ros fan , fe fj" "": ''"'" "««
-•••'fling, smothering the senses tihT™' •*""'■"^•
and their heavy perfume F?„ T '" "* "'<»-
geous blooms peeked out „t '*"''"' *"'= Sor-
frames, rare freZtt; ?'""" '" *"'' ei'd«d

-«ine s.yie/ss.rrwrvo:s:f ^r " "^-

covered with giMed leavll d ZTVL^'T
<iid place stood emotv a= T .s. This splen-

Mayno stumbling l^cu ,,wT '"'° " "■'* D^>
but the hubbubrled bv fh 7 '^°"^'' f^'"''
rogues who foitowX wa, th r;"^' "^"""^
help but rouse the paTace h " ' " '""''^ "<"

view. Almost w.thh thr "^ *""" ' ''^'* •"

sounded inKioors Ind = """' "'"''" ^'"^

courtiers, some 'f Sten^ '0™"' °'>*" ^"^
quickly out intothegferf; u ™"°"'' '='™

"ad a good audiencftHaH ,Ie%"" ^'°°'- '
above, half his servantr i 2 ^""" ' ^ourt
packed about theLggt "te ^T' TT '""
was at present on my side. '""'^ "'' J"'

Puttmg forth all mv skill r j
Mayno in such fashio2h,7 Lr "'™""'' °" ^e'
turned into the devi i„ t-' ' ""'r.,'" """■«■« "»
bis desperate .hr^,st;, be'^v „ .hem t *"?'"« ^"
P-% in Whatever spot myXTuiS'rr

}

22 Sir John Hawkwood

We stormed across the loggia like a whirlwind, nar-
rowly escaping a table in our course, then bearing
down on the staircase. Just as we reached it I swung
in a skilful circle and started back again for the
gate, still driving; my reluctant and panting prey be-
fore me. Round and round the loggia we went,
while the spectators cheered us on ; and now I began
to add mockery to my torture.

"So there, so there!" I cried, shaking with laugh-
ter, but taking good care not to miss a thrust. "To
the right, my friend— now to the left— ha, you obey
my guidance as prettily as could be wished ! Prime,
seconde, coupe — come, what makes you squeal so
like a stuck pig? Did I go too deep? Yes, 1 see
a spreading blood-stain on your fine satin hose : but
it is only a prick, as I can show you if I choose to
go deeper. Does my needle please you, my needle
concerning which you were so witty? Does it still
amuse you, now that you know it better? Is it a
sharp needle, eh ?" I th» ^st again, and my wretched
victim leapt into the air with a yell.

"Sir John ! Sir John Hawkwood ! Are you mad ?"
called an angry voice from the gallery, and I knew
that Antonio della Scala, Prince of Verona and
Vincenza, was now numbered among my audience.

I feigned to have heard nothing, and my pretense
was aided by the delighted clamor of the onlookers,
which might well have drowned the Prince's words.
"Bravo, bravo. Sir John!" the soldiers and pages
were crying, in an ecstacy. O'Meara, who had fol-

Sir John Havvkwood ^

beautiful sigh,'- Z Z ,1^°"" ^''' >' " ""'^

gathered, came audftl a„l T '"" """'"^ ^"-
adventurers who dar«l » f . ^^'"' """'"'^ ™

fashion, mingied ^X^pJetlrb "f'V" '"'=
m«m as my unlucltv v J; ^""^ °' ">""-

^aper. The ehase til" "" f™ '^P^^'""^ ""d
a-d round the ZT,f'° '"^ '',°"" "°w. Round
-rceiy a foot Si g Snt'"^ *' -« '-^
only by an apparent inte^vent „ , f f P° I' ''''■^^^'
luarry was scarlet in the fe '„rt ^^^d^ce. My
'vas plain he must soon fall f^' ° '"°""' ">^' ■''

'nPPed and s.umb Ld ihi^/Z'^f .f''.^-'-''- He

to catch breath, and madrwt, ^^."' "" "^°*
"geandangui.h a ".; *'''' ^"""d^ o{ mingled
a new mode^„f torture ' "°™'"' ' "^^ '"^P'^^^ by

^^cZ:^,^ '" ""-^ -ble assem.
effect that DeU^y Jp^tl? ^7'" "> »-h good
liveliest fashion poss"ble "c- "^ "^ '""'"'='' " *'
ably, on my word, irnot^^"!,"" ^° ""^ "^^it-
"ine a useful thins sil! *'P'''"' "eedle of

been like you pi /' ''"0 ?",""'' ' ''' "'^ '^
•"aster? Turn'tft bt ^^Ht-'"™ f ^^f ''^"°"^-
yonr right foot-now vof r r,f; / ,"" '=f'-"ise
"' I will prick agatW" '?'•"■■«■'"• bigher,
s " 1 shook with helples3

24 Sir John Hawkwood

laughter to see the desperate efforts and wild pro-
truding eyes of my pupil. Flesh and blood could
not resist the absurd scene; the loggia was now one
great roar of mirth, and even those in the gallery
held their sides and wiped their eyes.

"Sir John !" the Prince screamed, in a rage. "Do
you hear me? Put up your sword on the instant!
Cease your horse-play and let him go!"

This time I was ready to obey him, for I saw that
my victim could bear no more. "Once again, one
final effort," I cried, and swung my sword in a hiss-
ing circle straight at the feet of Del Mayno, who,
with a wild cry and a convulsive spring, leapt high
into the air and just cleared the blow. "Well done,
my friend. Now rest and get your breath, and take
warning by this lesson that needles are too sharp to
be spoken of in jest— they have .: power to prick,
you see." Still roaring with laughter, I thrust my
sword into its scabbard. "Let Delia Torre and his
friends pass in now, O'Meara. The play is ended,"
I called to the Irishman. And then I stood waiting,
unable to guess what might be the result of my mad
whim, but tolerably certain that the next half-hour
•would prove a stirring one for me.

A '$

CHAPTER II

MISCHIEI'

from luT^2 '"? .* """"" "' '"'"^ "roke

■ne in an ^pron-p^l^^t^^'r'"! "'*"<'
begone!" I cried fnro;« '"umpn. Begone,

"What have ;™ti:7„'Xp"'^. ^"^ "«™-
yourselves off knlV Z T' '"^S'" ? Take

case from the gafey T' '°^!!'°^'' '"^ ^'--
though .he facSd ^.r-n ?™"''^ '" ^ -^'^

mem I had an insane tJ . ^°^ a mo

'-a.ed Raimondo de M vno /"" ''™ '' ' "^^
'oved one scarcely better ttt' .1°'' '[""" '" ""• ^
nouo n,, taste, this U^^' ThXt:;; .?' ""
P"d, foppish, sulkv mo- i .a"g«", this lan-
and covered his hLf".""""" "« cheeks
blond hairtwhaU.r.?> ""' ^°" his
«y- I. was a pTrf „ " trf^ to" "^l' '"'-'"^'^'
read this Prince as e^-'T "'"'^ "'"• and I

among my f ee com„? ^ '" '"^ ™'"''"g ^"hroat

atbotfom« heZstofT ""V"'''" "^ " «"
worst of them. He came of a bloody

Sir John Hawkvvood

\ t\

l1 1

race, a family in which the father slew the son and
the husband the wife; and, unless report slandered
him, he had himself the blood of his only brother
on his conscience. There was an ominous threat
under his languid pretense of indifference— his veiled
sleepy eyes sometimes held the fierce glint of a wild
beast's rage; and more than once I had seen him,
when startled into anger, drop all his airs and graces,
and rave in a violent fashion that might well chill
the blood of any in his power. He accorded me
civil treatment, however, for I was not a little useful
to him. Would he choose to be indulgent now, or
not, I wondered, as I gazed at his slim, lazy, insolent
figure, glittering in violet velvet slashed with gold
and sewn with pearls. In a trial of strength I could
have broken his neck, and the knowledge gave me
a kind of scorn for what he might do.

There was silence for a moment, while the rabble
about the gate eyed me with reverence, and the
crowd in the gallery gave me looks of scorn. I stood
indifferent, staring back at them. No doubt I wore
the plainest attire that could have been found that
day in all the Scaligeri palace, where even the ser-
vants went splendidly dressed. I had a loose leather
jerkin and a short red cloak over my steel cuirass,
there was dust on my high boots, and the plume in
my hat was draggled, though it still arched with a
ruffling air of arrogance. Even O'Meara, clad in
the spoil of many a foray, far outshone me. I could
feel the scorn in the bright eyes above, and it made

Sir John Hawkwood

daggered over tocher! A„,^ ""''" '"S""". he
of the staircase. He was ^.T" ''°°'' "' "" f°°'
^""'S already breathing wri.h anf"""*^ '"■''"^' •"■'
'°^d. my lord, this i.^Z'J^ '" ."'"Seance. "My
passionately. "Am J . ^"""g." he wheezed

■•■' Verona Le ^orr';, l!:r' 7°"'= - any man
marriage— to be put t„ 1 , ^°"'' °"" •"'" h
f^m heaven knowTvw'T;.''^ "■'^ ^""'"'"^^r
diers, and made theTa ", 'i ^"'"' =" ''^ ^is sol-
Never shall I hear h ' „^5':f7'°''' "' all the city..
•«en made a mock ofUnj ° ^" ""'"e" I '>ave
«"nts, I think I sta„ ;"^ ;^' "J- sufferings 1 Holy
on the lowest sten Ji Tl- "'^"' ^«ain!" He fell

■'gs- "He priS me be 1 "'""' ^' '"■' ""''■S
'a« <hr„st of hi 1,7 Iht 'r™'!'' "«• and thaf

a-ded me I could never hlv^? ^"''" ''^'' ■><"
jump above it, and he wouM > "* "''"e"- '»
off at the ankles J wSl v!" . "'' "'°™ -"y 'eet
good lord .'" ^"^ '"d"" this outrage, my

^'«'e'r::rb[~^rr*adarkfrow^^

and then a pretty ul;^^-ZuJ,°f '^'"' "■"'-

S'.-- John." he said coldir«., ^'""' "^ "«•

whim of yours.;' Ita "" chn' ^°" "P'^'" "xs

horse-play, and my ,og™ trT "^ *"" '"' ^°"^

"^d «>ought Fra4cf ir'^,f "'-.? Faith. I

"-arrara and his Paduans

\ li

Sir John Hawkwood

f1 1

were upon us, so great was the Bedlam you raised !"
This was no time for hesitation; my only hope
lay in boldness. I lounged cheerfully across to the
stairs and faced Antonio, while Del Mayno, letting
out a startled squeal at my approach, climbed half
a dozen steps and took sanctuary behind his royal
master's back. "Why, my lord," I explained, laugh-
ing, "the matter is of the simplest. It appears that
various wits among your courtiers are curious as
to my birth, my parentage, my ancestry, and other
matters concerning me which might be thought no
aflFair of theirs. Since I have not cared to gratify
their curiosity, they have invented various histories
to fit me, and of these inventions the favorite one
is that I am the son of a tailor. Therefore, it seems,
they have christened me Giovanni della Guglia —
John of the Needle. You see? I have done my
best to take the point from this jest by dealing
roughly with all who cracked it, bat it appears I
have been too patient; for to-day, as I came into
the palace court, I passed this noble standing among
a crowd of his friends, and he called me very audibly
by the name I have mentioned. Perhaps he thought
his rank would awe me into patience, perhaps he
flattered himself that his skill at the sword equalled
mine — I cannot say ; at any rate the fancy took me
to show him how sharp my needle was and how
dangerous, that he might address me more circum-
spectly in future. I think he has learned his lesson
well," I 2nded, pointing with a roar of laughter

Sir John Hawkwood
to the wretched noble wh« ^

Pr«s.d fury with Wm",lMvr" """ 'f«" »"P-
fashion?" "^ °"'" """sman in a distant

broken. ' "' '^ '"spect.ng tliat it might bl

."'ghly « I had behc* d Z l! ""' "''"' ■"« 'O
'0"ged to worst the DukeTTp^r ."""' '^ ""
7 ■"" ^"d my skiil in warfa e h- '?' """^ »*
all such hopes in sheer rale at ml ^*'"' '"" »>''y
"en as I looked, to mv .fl "^ P''«™ptio„. But
-c-c .he angry w^XX ^Tr^^n"' "' '^°'''''
out the dark line from h^l^u'^'P'-'""^''^<'<'
'h- dangerous gleam Thahr^"''' '"" "^""hed
closed eyes. There was a ^ """ '""' ""'^ h^""
^Poke-angrily, indeed but notT' '"'"«'" ""^ »■=
^-» thronged into the lo "° ? "'■ '° '''°»« --ho
flict. ° "" 'OffSia to watch the con-

"Begone, yonl"hecri.H t-
"PPer lip raised from hif .e,T^^ ">"" "'''l' his
threatening dog 'Do , '" "'' ^^'^'°'> of a
"S- J^° you know no better than to

Sir John Hawkwood

i •

swarm into my very presence with your yells and
shouting? Go, I say, cr I will have the place cleared
with small ceremony!" The onlookers took the
hint and filed hastily out, while those in the gal-
lery followed suit. "Stay, Ranucio," he added to
his favorite, Delia Torre, who had come, up to him.
"And do you stop also," he added to O'Meara, who
indeed had shown no sign of budging, despite the
fierce order for a general departure. The Prince
crossed the loggia slowly and seated himself at a
great table covered with cards and dice and gold
drinking-cups. "And now," he said sourly, "if your
merry humor is satisfied, Sir John, in the name of
Heaven let us sit down and talk like men of sense."
His sudden change of front so amazed me that I
could find no words, and must have cut a foolish
figure enough had not Del Mayno come to my rescue
by diverting the attention of the others to himself.
Pulling himself up with difficulty from his seat on
the stairs, he hurried indignantly over to the Prince.
"Oh, my lord, my lord, am I to have no vengeance ?"
he cried, shaking his clenched hand at me, but pru-
dently keeping the table between us. "I am your
own kinsman, you yourself have said it, and yet you
refuse me redress when I am mocked and outraged?
Send the rogue to prison, or banish him forever
from Verona — let his crime against your dignity and
mine be suitably punished. You will not suffer him to
flaunt it here as if nothing had happened? I tell
you, my lord, I can hardly stand for pain!** Hq

Sir John Hawkwood ,,

Oh, you make too much of thi> «,,*♦
of dealinJ 1 "ie~th,s was not his usual way

ha™ a-r,"^ P"* !'^=" ""^ <'°™ yo" no lasting

nius. pardon » JeJ^ ^ "wt ^rT'' '"T
friend to Verona nt:^ • " " ™ ^ood a

brought aim; o„yo«^^«;"" P'"'" ""« you
concerning a „an XT X avo' K""'"""
tongue next time, and all will be Jd' K ^ * "'"
a doctor for your hurts, .hoi Uhtk ,^7 ^ ^''
deep ones." Del Mavnn fl T '^ *"■* ""^

exhausted. "Go, De, Mayno, T^LC^luT
Zt """ "" ™"'' « "dri, and what 1 1 /^r

of despair:reVan s^^^g^r^ rhe't^^'^'"^''

samts for this miracle then 'f . ^^'"'"^
»P-h.e. With asto^^h^^ri^-dr :,o^-

. i

3«

Sir John Hawkwood

leaned my elbows on the table, and stared straight
before me, collecting my thoughts while I waited
for the Prince to speak. Why he had chosen to
brush aside my offense as a matter of no conse-
quence, he alone knew. It was not from good-na-
ture ; he had none. Was it because he believed that
I alone could help him cast down hit, deadly foe,
Francesco Carrara, the Duke of Padua? Perhaps,
for he hated that ruler fiercely, and feared him too ;
and since I had come to Verona with my mercenaries
I had won him a dozen victories over his rival. Yes,
I was of value to him, and he knew it — that was
surely the cause of his complaisance.

Suddenly I became aware that he was watching
me maliciously. "You are dreaming, Sir John," he
drawled. "Your conduct to-day makes me some-
what doubtful whether you are quite sober. I fear
you could scarcely fight a successful battle for me

now

"Faith, my lord, you show yourself very igno-
rant of war when you say that," I answered, with
a curt laugh — T understood the taunt in his words
well enough, but would not show it. "Soldiers never
fight so well as when their hearts are warmed with
drink- When I stormed the Pont d'Esprit near
Avignon I think not a man in all my force sat his
horse without reeling in the saddle, yet they did not
fight the less well for that. However, I am sober
enough at present, though perhaps I could not have
said so this morning at sunrise ; reassure yourself —

Sir John Hawkwood 3,

lo rj'"' ' """'* *°" " """• ' '" '" "« "«'«'

"This morning at sunrise," said Delia Torre, re-

pe«rng my word, with a sneer on his darkly hand-

moTnilr J ^'' •" ■* '""■ " "" "'"' 1"^" 'hi'
morning when I passed you, I think. You were

vou u^f ?'"• ?T "^ ^""^ '•°e«es were holding
you up and you had a bare sword in your hand
w..h^h you were pricking all who came [„ your'

"Bedad, thin, and what was yourself doinR in the

O Meara, before I could speak. His voice was tus-
pcously sw«t, a bright glint danced " hfs h le
ey«. and his head was thrown back a trifle all of
wh,ch spelt danger where he was conctrl ' ""uy

science to see a man that's had his glass? Trulv

t"med ." , " ' ^'^ P'"" '"""Sh, is now

tro.^rIha„ T"'' ^™ ^''"'"•^ "«« "°*ing
stronger than water; at sight of wine you raise your

Tth uTh ;:clter And r r'"'' ''"'" "° ^'-

word—Sir tIu , ' ""^ y"" """y «"<« my
word— Sir John Hawkwood will be remembered

He paused, for wan. of breath, not for wanfof

Sir John Hawkwood

ideas. In fact, he was merely at the beginning of
his speech, and being quite aware of this fact I
seized the opportunity of silencing him.

"Hold your tongue, Michael," I cried. The Prince
was chuckling in malicious amusement, and Delia
Torre had turned on the Irishman a glare of such
indignant astonishment as he might have worn had
a lackey bearded him. "It matters nothing to those
here whether I go drunken through the streets or
not. I am hired to win battles, not to chant prayers.
The Prince desires to say something to us — give him
a moment to word his thoughts, then, and let Delia
Torre alone."

Antonio was watching me furtively from beneath
lowered lids. "Yes, Sir John," be said slowly, after
a pause, during which O'Meara hummed an air,
Delia Torre scowled, and I racked my brains as to
what could be coming. "I sent for you to-day to
beg your help in a matter of great importance to
me. li is an affair Oi a different sort from what
you have done for me hitherto, but then, it will also
be more profitable. You are not averse to gaining
a round sum of money, eh? If you will carry out
this business to my satisfaction, I will give you a
great bag of golden coins, and fling this diamond
a-top for good measure." He touched an enormous
jewel that sparkled at his throat, then darted a keen
glance at me to mark if I appeared dazzled by the
offer.

"Why, my lord," I said bluntly, "I do not under-

k "i

'<ti*

Sir John Hawkwood ,-

stand you. I have .old my sword to you for a cer
tarn space of time, and .^m bound to aid you !n a 1

on racfr l" "" T'' ^* *^" "' "-=" - our

asie.eorcon,^tXXXnrZryl:
ger ,s my trade, and I am content with Snfettv"
penny you have already given me. You pay "f
my lord, otherwise I should not be here Zjt
you may guess. I do not fight for mere^; of L
•ng- My money must be prepaid when [ le 1
word to a duchy or republic ; the some oT otas
chnkmg m my pouch makes me combat 111,.
n,a^n«n but to no other music wilU t L" tc^^
Delia Torre gave me a look of scorn "I ,hi„k ■•

a^r rm::::rw;err''" r "'''-' ^'-^

go for love of ^eronY^;, l::^^:'"^^
I«t nr, 7 ^'d I nodding. "What cause have

of Tan™ I w^f. ' "5 ""' °*" °' y^"' ''"k slices
Whvh u , , ' '™'" " «'•'« <^°"""-y over.seas»

turt and h, h "i' ' '"' °™ '"°°<'' "■^ ""' na-
ture, and he has done nothing for me save t^ „,

me a certain amount of gold, for whi"h iTate „iv'e^
nim fuJi return Mr» i ^ ^ i . . "'^^^ given

all the time tr wh^hhe hast, n """' ""' """"^
lor wmch he has bought my sword I wiU

Sir John Havvkwood

1 1

be utterly faithful to him, and serve him better than
you could do, you that profess such devotion for
him. He does not hire me for affection, he hires
me that I may fight Padua in his behalf. It is all
a matter of buying and selling." I laughed agaii,
but there was little enough merriment in my heart,
for when I paused to consider my trade it sometimes
appeared to me that I was but a step above the bra-
voes of the day, men who might be hired for a hand-
ful of scudi to waylay and murder on the streets.

"A strange life," said Delia Torre, sourly, "to
roam about all Italy, fighting now for one duchy,
and now for another, and caring nothing for any
save as self-interest leads you."

"That is the kernel of the matter in a few words,"
I assented, undisturbed. "I have no leanings, no
sympathies. I wait, with a clear mind and an un-
biased judgment, until some ruler buys my sword
and my Company ; then I fight, and win. I have had
a checkered life. I have fought the Pope and levied
tribute on him." The Prince and Delia Torre raised
eyes of horror, and hastily crossed themselves, at
which, knowing the measure of true piety possessed
by each, I was again overcome with mirth. "Oh, I
have no love for Church mummery. When I took
Pau by storm I reversed the usual custom — my
men spared the laity and the poor, but robbed the
clergy and sacked their houses, thus getting much
rich booty. In those days my force was called the
Accurst Company; but later the Pope hired me to

Sir John Hawkwood 37

protect him, and I fought in his cause as stoutly as
ever I fought against him, so the name was changed
to the Holy Company. That was very amusing to
me, smce by no flight of fancy could my wild riot-
ing band of mercenaries from all over the world be
thought holy in any fashion. I fought for the
Pisans, too, when they defied Florence, and later I
sold my sword to Florence and served her as well
as though I had never stood in arms against her.
The highest bidder gets me, and I admit it frankly;
but, though I have a keen eye to the lining of my
pockets, I am honest— there lives no man who dare
accuse me of failing to give good measure for my
hire. Why, I would fight for the devil if he paid
me well!" ^

"And perhaps you're doing that same now,"
O'Meara muttered, with a side-glance at the Prince,
who, luckily, failed to catch the remark.

"Was this your mind when you fought at Poic-
tiers under the Black Prince? Did you serve then
for hope of gain and i < ihing else?" asked Delia
Torre, scornfully.

He had put his finger on the one weak spot in
my armor, and I make no doubt that I winced at the
touch. Nay, I was so moved that for an instant I
forgot him and spoke with a gesture of reckless self-
scorn. "Ah, you go too far back. In those days
I was an English soldier, the friend of the greatest
hero this world has ever seen— not a drunken ruf-
fling condottiere whose sword was for sale to any

Sir John Hawkwood

bidder, a besieger and sacker of towns, a man who
fought for money with which to get himself wino as
a means of forget fulness! I loved Eu vard Plan-
tagenet. I think ' would not know me now, and

I am as well pit ,d that he cannot see me "

Coming to my senses, I pulled myself up hastily.
"Why, can you wonder if I am changed now, when
you consider the difference in the men I serve?" I
cried mockingly to Delia Torre. "Do you think I
would fight for love of the Pope or the Gonfalonieri
of Florence or the Pisans, as I fought for love of the
Black Prince?" I let my eyes rest on Antonio as I
ended, and such was my black humor that I cared
not a scudo if he guessed that I included him in the
list.

He was determined not to take offense at me to-
day, it seemed, for he leaned back in his chair and
trifled languidly with his rings, smiling as if in some-
what bored indulgence of my acrid mood. "I quar-
rel with the money-love of no man who can earn his
gold as well as you, Sir John," he drawled placidly,
"and I know that whether you hold me dear or
not, you will fight Francesco Carrara like any de-
mon in my behalf."

"Aye, for the remaining month for which I have
sold you my service, and after that if you choose
to renew the contract on terms profitable to us both,"
I answered, in practical tones. "As for the future,
who knows? I can never say one year where I
may be the next. Stranger things have come to

Sir John Hawkwood 30

pass than that some day I might enter Francesco
yarrara s service and drive the house of Delia Scala
from Verona!" I laughed loudly. "Why, whafs
amiss, my lord ? Has my jest startled you ? I have
no thought of going over to Padua while you con-
tinue to pay nie well."

Antonio had turned a shade paler and shivered
as If m a sudden chill, but he recovered instantly,
^othing-a twinge." he answered, pouring some
wine and ''-inking it.

"Or a presentiment, maybe." I suggested, filling
myself a cup. "Perhaps I am a prophet, though I
never guessed it before. In passing, my lord, it ap-
pears to me that we are wasting time. You sum-
moned me here for some purpose beyond the discus-
sion of my past life ? Your lamented brother, Prince
iiartolomeo. was wont to sit with me often for the
purpose of listening to my war tales, but I cannot re-
call that you ever showed such curiosity until to-

It was believed by all that the death of Bartolo-
meo. which had taken place scarcely three months
before, was the work of the Prince; therefore it was
not customary, as may be believed, to mention the
murdered man's name at Court. I knew this, but
0-day one of my black reckless fits was driving me
to a 1 manner of imprudences at which a calmer man
might have shuddered. Delia Torre, to whom ru-
mor credited a share in the bloody business, started
violently, paled, and favored me with a fierce scowl

Sir John Hawkwood

but the Prince displayed an admirable self-posses-
sion, and gave no sign of concern save a slight quiver
of the lids. "It is true that I had something to'say
to you, Sir John," he answered serenely. "You do
well to remind me. Let us come to the point," and
he glared suspiciously about the loggia to assure
himself that we were quite alone.

"Why so much mystery?" I cried. "What can
you want of me, my lord, that all the world may not
hear? Is it another such enterprise as the taking
of Lerino, which I stormed for you last week? I
left most of my Company there to hold it, you re-
call — I shall have to send for them if you are plan-
ning a new attempt "

"It is nothing of the kind. Listen," said the
Prince, bending across the table and speaking in a
low voice, with his eyes searching now one part of
the loggia, now another, but never meeting mine.
"It is no warlike enterprise, Sir John, and therefore
I am willing to reward you richly if you consent
to undertake it. The affair concerns my cousin, the
Princess Giulia. Ha — why did you start?"

"In wonder that anything concerning her could
concern me also," I answered, mentally cursing his
keen sight.

His painted cheeks flushed slightly, and he bit his
lip. He was very ill at ease, and, perceiving it, I
suspected foul play. "All Verona knows, I think,
that I love my cousin and desire to marry her," he
went on, low but resolutely. "As for her, she is

Sir John Hawkwood 41

very young still and very foolish. She reads ro-
mances and dreams of hero-knights, and longs for
a perfect cavalier to come and woo her. Well, I am
slight of figure and cold of manner and not too
handsome of feature, and I do not resemble the
fairy-knight of her dreams. She repulses me. Now.
Sir John, I have determined to overcome her cold-
ness— I have determined to play a knight's part and
win her favor."

I sat staring at him. "Well, what of it, my lord ?"
I asked bluntly. "This concerns you and the Prin-
cess, not me."

Again he hesitated, then bent closer to me. "It
shall concern you to the tune of a round sum, if you
choose." he muttered. "What I desire is that you
and some score of your men should carry off my
cousin under pretense of holding her to ransom.
You may seize her when the Court is without the
walls on a hunt, and carry her to my deserted
castle near Vincenza. There I will come at once with
fifty horsemen, and after some pretense at resistance
you will yield me the castle and the Princess. Such
a rescue will leave her far less indifferent, far more
kmdly disposed toward me and my love suit ; besides
she will be alone and in my power, and I can make
what terms I choose. As for you, after some pre-
tense at anger I will pardon you in consideration of
your services to Verona, and will privately give you
a rich reward. Now, is not that a simple way to
cam a bag of coins?"

Sir John Hawkwood

i '

i f

si!

In the silence that followed I clenched my hands
till the nails bit into the flesh. The Prince's face
was close to mine, and the impulse to strike him
full across his painted cheeks and pale sneering eyes
was almost more than I could rule. It was
O'Meara's voice which broke the spell, and saved
me, perhaps, from a fatal act. "The divil !" I heard
him mutter soul fully, and in sudden fear lest he
should do some such thing as I had myself contem-
plated, I kicked him warningly under the table — or
tried to kick him, for my boot caught Antonio's leg
instead, and he jumped and muttered an angry oath.

I was calm enough now. "Thank you, my lord,"
I said, bowing. "Your generosity is indeed great,
but I think I will not accept it. I take towns, not
ladies; I make treaties, not marriages. Let your
friend Delia Torre carry out your scheme — he is
more fitted to such an affair than I."

The Prince and his favorite eyed me in a far from
loving fashion. "Ah," said Antonio, and his drawl-
ing voice was thick and unpleasant. "You have scru-
ples, then ? A scheme which a royal prince proposes
to you is not choice enough for your dainty hands ?
Forgive me. Sir John, if I say that I had fancied,
from the tales that have come to my ears concerning
your doings and the doings of the men you lead, that
you had long since ceased to consider the nice bal-
ances of right and custom when a chance of gain
hovered before your eyes !"

"I understand," I answered, and my rage was such

Sir John Hawkwood ^,

that I could hardly answer him. "Now hear me for

rufflmg cutthroat, a bully, a drunkard sometimes!

it IS true that my men are ruffians, thieves, the
scounng of Europe ! But in all my life I have never
shared m such a business as the one you propose for
the gulhng of your innocent cousin, and though I
have led my Company on many a rough wild forav
I have never taken them against a woman. I fight
in the open, my lord, and I choose enemies whom
1 can meet with a high head and without lowered

Antonio rose quietly from the table. "Why vou
have said enough. It is a matter for vour own'de-
cidmg and ,f you prefer hard fighting to an easier
way of gettmg gold, it is all one to me. You shall
combat Padua instead of my pretty cousin. Come
Ranuco He took his favorite's arm. and without
another look at me they passed together across the
loggia, through the gate into the outer court, and so
from my sight.

r I

I ;

CHAPTER III
o'meara's lady

For a full moment the Irishman and myself sat
staring after the departing Italians. At lengtii
O'Meara shook his head, drained the cup of wine
he had filled just before the coming of the crisis, and
said "The divil!" even more soulfully than he had
said it a few instants earlier. This done, he sat
looking at me with so blank an expression that I was
irritated into speech.

"Well," I growled, "and what do you think of
this?"

O'Meara was seldom at a loss for an opinion,
whatever the event. "I'm thinking you and I had
best be after finding a prince in need of soldiers,"
he said lucidly, "for that, come one month and the
end of your bargain, that son of the divil will be
turning us out of Verona — and maybe killing us be-
fore he does that same," he added, like the Irishman
he was.

There was not a little to be said for this view of
the case. I knew Antonio too well to be deceived
by the blandness of his farewell. He never forgave
contumacy on the part of those with whom he had to
deal, and the fact that I had won him a dozen bril-

Sir John HawkwoocI 45

liant victories would not soften liim at all now that
I had dared refuse to aid him in his knavish scheme.
The best I could hope was to be permitted to leave
Verona quietly when the month was ended ; and it
would be quite in keeping with the Prince's char-
acter f, as O'Meara suggested, he tried to take re-
venge on me in the meantime.

" 'Tis a black-hearted rogue he is, Prince or no
Prince, and that jewel of a Delia Torre is his worthy
follower," the Irishman muttered, drinking again.
"Had ye consented to their nefarious dealing and
carried off the Princess, would they have kept the
bargain, do you think? Not they. When she was
rescued, you would have hanged. Trust me for that
—'tis myself has the keen eye to read villains such
as these."

I made no response to this profound remark,
though I quite agreed with the speaker. He was not
one to be discouraged by silence. "Faith, and after
this I've no doubt at all he killed his brother, as 'tis
said he did, bad 'cess to him," he went on with ani-
mation. "And what are you going to do now, Sir
John, I should be glad to hear ?"

"I am going to reflect seriously over the matter,
so pray keep your thoughts to yourself and let me
have peace," I answered rather savagely, though it
was impossible for me to feel real irritation against
him. And going across the loggia I flung myself
down on a gilded settle hidden behind the marble pil-
lars.

» '

•

f
i }

I \\

46 Sir Jolm Ilawkwood

"Faith, with all the pleasure in life," O'Meara
rejoined good-naturedly; and by way of obedience
he immediately began to walk noisily up and down,
his spurs ringing on the pavement. From time to
time he paused to rock on his heels, and sang light-
heartedly a song marked by a rich brogue and a
merry rollicking lilt, which ran somewhat as fol-
lows:

"In me childhood I learned from the priest

— And believed it, the more to me shame! —
That the divil, that evil old beast,

Was for all this world's mischief to blame.
Some years later, I learned in one minute

Just be watching a dimple and curl.
That for mischief the divil's not in it

With a sweet little, shy little girl!"

I smiled despite myself as I watched him. Far
from home as he had travelled in the course of an
adventurous career, he had the stamp of his land
in every feature and gesture, and must have been
known for an Irishman had one met him among the
Turks. There was no better fighter in Europe, yet
how boyish he looked and how gay ! A mass of red
hair curled under his swaggering plumed hat, and his
long-lashed Irish-blue eyes were merry and twinkling
one moment, aggressive the next, and an instant later
filled with a coaxing, flattering light if they chanced
to rest on a pretty face. Abounding humor and rich

Sir John Ifawkwooi aj

joy of living spoke in the wide curves of his mouth
the quick swing of liis slioulders. the half-ronicking.*
half-.' fiant toss of his head. He was honest and
loyal to the bone, for all his flippant ways, and it
meant much to me, placed as I was in Italy, to have
such a friend.

Even as I looked one of his quick changes of hu-
mor came over him, and, abandoning his catch, he
paused before the gate and shook his fist savagely
m the direction whither the Prince and Delia Torre
had gone. "Ill luck come to you both, with your
proud scowling faces and sneering mouths !" he cried
heartily. "If I had you in my troop I'd put you
through your paces, the pair of ye I May the divil
fly away with you, say I-for you're no friends to
Sir John,^ bless him I and I've no manner of use for
you " He started and wheeled about in sur-
prise, for at this moment his animated tirade was
abruptly broken by a great red rose which, striking
him lightly in the face, rebounded into his out-
stretched hands.

The loggia was apparently deserted and empty,
and nothing rewarded his eager gaze; but he had
evidently some suspicion as to the invisible agency
responsible for the flower, and no unpleasant sus-
picion either, to judge from the sudden clearing of
the anger on his forehead and the quick change of
his blue eyes from savagery to delight. Recon-
noitenng with the cautious skill of an experienced
soldier, he made a brisk circuit of the loggia and

liil

: \

48 Sir John Hawkwood

despite his quickness almost suffered a defeat, for
the second rose, coining from an unexpected quar-
ter, struck the back of his head and caused him to
breathe an audible wish that he had eyes in that un-
likely spot. Whirling about again, he proved too
quick for the strategist above, who had no time to
draw back behind the sheltering pillar of the gal-
lery, and stood confessed in the full light of day. At
the sight O'Meara gave a loud crow of triumph and
rejoicing. "Aha, Madonna Francesca!" he cried,
"you, is it, in ambush in the gallery there, and fling-
ing roses as pretty as yourself ?"

The sight above was indeed a sufficiently charm-
ing one to rejoice sourer eyes than those of the im-
pressionable Irishman. Leaning on the rail of the
gallery, framed by the gleaming whiteness of the
marble walls and pillars and the clinging red masses
of the vivid roses, was the slender figure of a
girl in a pale green gown broidered with scarlet.
She had a crown of misty gold hair, a pair of shy
dark eyes fit to witch any unwary heart from the
breast of the man who gazed into them, and a
soft, coquettish, whimsical red mouth, just now
a-curve with the most tempting smile to be imag-
ined. "Good-day, Messer O'Meara," she said de-
murely, gazing down at the enraptured soldier of
fortune below.

O'Meara flung out his hands in an ecstacy of ad-
miration. "Indeed, and you're a vision to make the
dead quicken again," he cried, enthusiastically ; then,

;[■

Sir John Hawkwood jg

moderating his voice to a coaxing tone, "Come down,
Madonna. Sure, now, this loggia down here is a
most mviting place, cool, green, flowery, many times
fairer than that gallery perched in the air. Come
down, then."

Francesca di Montalto shook her head, though
with a laugh. "No. From here I have a better view
of you, with your knitted brow and set lips. Ah, how
sour you looked when I first came out and saw you!
When you look so I should never dare come down
to you, lest you should devour me."

"Ah, Madonna," cried the Irishman, fatuous with
delight, " 'tis a grave wrong you do me. Were I
the sourest curmudgeon that ever breathed the air,
one glimpse of you would set me to beaming, and
make me as smooth as a summer morning!"

"Yet you were out of humor before you saw me,"
the girl persisted.

"I was that same," admitted O'Meara, scowling
slightly even in his bliss at the remembrance of his
tilt with the Prince and Delia Torre, and shaking
his fist at the gate by whicli they had departed. "Foul
fall their black hearts and -.heir silky tongues! But
what for am I raving at the likes of them, when
you stand there above me, welcome as flowers in
May.? Come down. Madonna."

Francesca left the gallery and came slowly down
the staircase, a witching figure as »he moved among
the roses. "I must do as you ask me, I suppose "
she answered, as the Irishman advanced to join

Vih

Sir John Hawkwood

her. "I would not be cruel to you now, when you
have but just come home from battle. I hear there
was great bloodshed at Lerino."

"There was that, praise be!" O'Meara responded,
meeting her at the foot of the stairs and kissing
both her hands with fervor. "Ah, Madonna Fran-
cesca, if there is anything on earth could give me
as great pleasure as gazing into your eyes, 'tis a
rousing fracas, a desperate fight, with the odds,
maybe, a little against me, just to make the winning
sweeter. And, bedad, 'twas a pleasure I got; these
Paduans fight well, and gave us a pretty struggle."
His blue eyes shone riotously with pure joy in the
recolle^aon, and Francesca frowned and drew her
hands pettishly away.

"Fie, you make me shudder with your talk of
blood," she complained, sitting down on a marble
bench built in against the stairs. "To fight, to kill
men, to see dead bodies all about you — I cannot see
any pleasure in that, Messer O'Meara."

Michael, who was wont to show an alarming tru-
culence toward any who dared criticise him by word
or look, and would have called any man on earth to
account for such a speech as this, now looked as
crestfallen as a guilty school-boy. "No, truly, I
suppose no woman could," he admitted, sitting down
beside her with a rueful look. "However," he added,
cheering up swiftly, "I'll not say another word about
such matters. Instead, we'll talk of you. Ah, ma-

Sir John Hawkwood 51

vourneen!" rapturously, "where did you get your

eyes ? They're two stars from heaven "

"You would make me vain if I believed you,"
Francesca pouted. "To how many other ladies have
you said that?"

"A hundred, no less," the Irishman confessed
cheerfully.

"Oh!" cried the girl indignantly, and started up
from the bench.

O'Meara restrained her. "But never with such
fervor as I'm saying it now," he assured her hastily,
whereupon she sank back appeased. I suppres:ed a
chuckle. At first I had wondered that neither of
them took any notice of me, but after a moment's
reflection I realized that the screen of flowers and
marble quite shut me oflF from the lady's sight. As
for O'Meara, he was perfectly aware of my presence,
and if he chose to do his love-making within my
hearing, that was his own afifair.

"I swear on my soul it's the truth I'm telling you,"
he was protesting. "Since the night I saw you mask-
ing it here in your Venetian dress, I've been no bet-
ter than your slave. Sure, I love you, sweetheart.
Say you love me, and bedad, I'll be the happiest man
the sun shines on. Say it, say it. Is it without
mercy you are, that you can take pleasure in the tor-
ments of a fellow-creature ?"

"But I do not love you," Francesca protested de-
murely. "And my father hates you— it is well he
cannot see us talking here."

! I|

•V

! i

Sir John Hawkwood

"Hates me? Heaven bless the old man! But no
matter," cried O'Meara. " 'Tis easy enough to solve
that difficulty — we'll just be marrying without ask-
ing his leave, since 'tis plain enough he'd be after de-
nying it. Give me your consent, and 'tis little enough
I'll care for his. You'll not starve with me, Ma-
donna, never think it; I'll dress you in silks and
hang you with jewels if I have to take Padua to
get them for you. Faith, though, for your sake I
wish that instead of standing here a soldier of for-
tune I had the inheritance that will be mine some
fine day. Over in blessed Ireland, you know, is
a castle that will come to me yet if I live long
enough, and the lands and titles of the grimmest,
most cantankerous old uncle the Lord ever made.
Little good they do me now ! The old sinne- turned
me out because he hated my roving ways, and de-
clines to hear my name spoken in his house, bless
his heart!"

"Why, then," the girl exclaimed, between laughter
and disapproval, "how comes it you left Ireland?"

"Heaven knows," said O'Meara. "There are men
made like that, Madonna — men who must roam the
world. I never yet saw a place so fair it made me
forget that there were other places just as fair yet
to be seen — and, bedad, it was the same with faces
till I saw yours and lost all interest in life save as it
meant the joy of seeing you !"

Francesca pursed her lips in an effort \o conceal
her delight. "If my father knew that you left wealth

Sir John Hawkwood 53

and comfort to come a-soldiering over here," she
said severely, "he would think you even more foolish
than he does now."

"It is with your father's daughter I am con-
cerned," rejoined the Irishman. "Ah, but the woo-
ing of a woman is a maddening thing! I have but
one thought in my head—to win you; you have a
thousand thoughts in yours, and talk of them all.
Madonna, I implore you, take pity on me— say yes,
or say no."

"Then— no," Francesca murmured demurely, her
eyes on her lap. O'Meara flung away angrily in
the direction of the gate, whereupon she started up
eagerly and pursued him. "Don't go!" she begged.

"Go! I wasn't going, more black shame to me,"
cried O'Meara— thereby losing, it struck me, an
opportunity to bring the pretty coquette very quickly
to terms. "Had I the spirit of a cat, I'd speak to
you no more ; but I've no spirit left. Come, be mer-
ciful," he urged, blarneying her. "Take pity on me,
won't you now ?"

"Ireland is very far away," she answered du-
biously, enticing him back to the abandoned bench.
"I should be very lonely there, without my father
and the Princess Giulia."

"The Prince's cousin?" said O'Meara absently.
He was skilfully attempting to capture her hand,
which, with equal skill, she kept out of his reach.
"She's a fair lady, yet surely you can learn to live
without her."

I* i

lif

iti

Sir John Hawkwood

Francesca's pretty coquettish face grew very se-
rious. "The Princess has been my friend since we
were both children," she answered, "and surely no
two have ever loved more than we, though her
house is a royal one and mine sunk in poverty."

"I understand — you've seen better days, you're
poor but proud ; sure and I'm like that too," broke in
the irrepressible Irishman.

"She is very dear to me, and I think she would
not be happy without me," the girl went on, un-
heeding him. "She needs me, for in spite of her
birth and riches she is not happy. Look you." She
turned on O'Meara a sweet serious face of confi-
dence, which made him gasp for admiration. "The
Princess Giulia is akin, through her dead mother,
both to Prince Antonio and his foe the Duke of
Padua. She is a great heiress, with a splendid dowry
of lands and castles and gold, and therefore in her
childhood both the Duke of Padua and Can Sig-
norio. Prince Antonio's father, claimed her as th^r
ward when the death of her parents left her an or-
phan. Well, Can Signorio, a shrewder man than his
rival, got her into his hands and brought her here to
his Court, where she has grown up ; and now Prince
Antonio has his mind settled to wed her." She
dropped her head with a heavy sigh of distress.

"Well," said O'Meara, more from a desire to com-
fort her than from conviction, "surely that is not
such an evil fate, to wed with the last of the Scali-
geri, the man who reigns over Verona?"

Sir John Hawkwood 55

"Indeed!" Francesca murmured, drawing away
from him. "Do you think so? Then I am glad
you have not the choosing of my husband !"

"But that is just what I do hope to have," he as-
sured her, and she dimpled demurely and allowed
him to diminish the distance she had put between
them.

"But oh, indeed, Messer O'Meara, this Court is
no place for a girl like my Princess, a lady who is
young and beautiful and rich and good," she said,
growing swiftly serious. "Verona is a place of plot-
ting and evil, as all must admit who know its his-
tory. The royal throne has blood-stains on it, and
for a century now the Delle Scale have shed the
blood of their own kin. Can Signorio slew two of
his brothers who blocked his way to power; and

Antonio " She bent closer to O'Meara, a look

of horror on her face. "Three months ago there
were two Princes of Verona, sharing equally in
power— Antonio and Bartolomeo. All the city
dreaded the first and loved the last. He was like a
young god, Bartolomeo della Scala, with his blond
hair and laughing eyes and merry mouth. He
laughed from dawn till dark, he was the happiest
man on earth, and whenever he passed through the
streets the people cheered for joy. All loved him,
the nobles, the merchants, the peasants, even the
beggars. He hunted and hawked and danced and
feasted, and vowed that the gods, in pity of human
misery, had created one man whose whole life should

^Ii-

Sir John Havvkwood

be radiantly happy. Then came a morning when
he was found stabbed in the Street of the Two
Moors, near the Palazzo Nogarola. It was said he
had gone by night to see old Nogarola's daughter,
whom he loved, and that he had been killed by
her father and young Malaspina, her betrothed. They
were executed, these two men, and the girl died on
the rack, protesting her innocence to the end. She
spoke truth, Messer O'Meara. None of these were
guilty. Bartolomeo died by the will of his brother,
by the hands of bravoes hired by Delia Torre — he
was stabbed in his sleep, lying on a couch in the pal-
ace, where he had thrown himself when he came
home weary from hunting. All the city knows this,
yet still Antonio rules, and all fear him too greatly
to dare whisper of his guilt."

She put her hand over her face, and O'Meara
muttered a fierce oath. "There, there, darlint, what
for do you think of such things?" he urged sooth-
ingly. " 'Tis true there are evil men in the world,
but for all that 'tis none so bad a place. Sun and
flowers and love are fitter matters for the brain of a
dainty witch like yourself!"

She paid him no heed. "And it is this Prince, this
murderer, who dares to say he will wed my Prin-
cess !" she cried passionately. "He loves her in some
strange, cold, evil fashion of his own ; when his eyes
rest on her they have a gleam that makes me grow
cold. Then, too, he desires her for her great dowry,
which can add so much to his holdings. She haa

Sir John Hawkwood 57

refused to wed him, but he vows he will find a way
to force her— and if he does, though she will be a
great lady and the wife of a sovereign, she will never
be happy again. Oh, when I think of all this I trem-
ble for her. Antonio has set spies to watch her com-
ings and goings, to listen when she and I talk to-
gether in the hall or the gardens. He has bidden
Delia Torre's wife be with her, talk to her of him,
learn her mind and tell him how she looks upon him.
That is a terrible woman. All the Court knows that,
though she brought her lord a rich dowry, she was
but a merchant's daughter; yet now she bears herself
like any queen, and never lowers her eyes before the
Princess Giulia herself. Ah, this is an evil land we
live in, a sad place for those who are weak and help-
less !"

"There, mavourneen, never fret like that, for you
shall never be weak or helpless either while Michael
O'Meara has a sword and a hand to hold it in," cried
the warm-hearted Irishman, quite unmanned at the
sight of tears sparkling in Francesca's pretty eyes.
"But you're right in what you say of this country!
bad 'cess to it; for plotting and stabbing and lying
and all such black-hearted knavery I never saw a
spot to match this bright sunny Italy of yours. Come
say the word, and I'll take you where you need
never wrinkle that sweet little brow with pondering
over forced marriages and murdered princes; where,
if we do fight sometimes^and sure, what would b^
the use of living if we didn't?— the fight is fair and

58 Sir John Hawkwood

honest, and every man for himself, instead of a mat-
ter for bravoes to settle on a dark night, or a cup
of poison to finish at a dinner. Will you do it. Ma-
donna? Will you mate with a poor good-for-noth-
ing soldier of fortune who's not fit to touch the tip
of your finger, and knows he isn't, but loves you
more than all the gold the world could give

him "

Francesca had been listening with a shy demure
smile and no si^n of displeasure, but at this critical
moment she cut him abruptly short. "Oh, hush,
hush, Messer O'Meara!" she whispered, urgently.
"Do you not sec? It is Madonna Violante, Delia
Torre's wife. She hates Sir John and all his fol-
lowers, and I would not have her hear your love-
making for the world."

'if

CHAPTER ly

"^ VIOI.ANTe

For a moment O'Meara, thus rudely checked in
the full tide of his eloquence, stared about him blank-
ly in search of the person whose coming had inter-
rupted the harangue from the conclusion of which
he had hoped so much. Had the intruder been a
man I fancy he might have feared somewhat badly
at that instant, for the Irishman, if meek as a
lamb beneath Francesca's caprices, was by no means
so angelic toward the members of his own sex, and
possessed in large measure the truculence for which
his nation has always been famed. When, however,
he had discovered with the aid of his lady's point^
ing finger the cause of the interruption, he smothered
the oath on his lips and indulged instead in a some-
what rueful laugh.

A woman had come out on the upper gallery and
was standing at the head of the stairs, gazing down
steadily and in obvious displeasure at the two below.
She was a splendid figure and a stately one, for if
Violante della Torre was indeed, as the gossip ran
at Court, the daughter of a merchant, there was little
about her to suggest such origin; hers was rather
the proud disdainful beauty of one born to a great

'•

Sir John Hawkwood

III;

and noble house. She had a thh:k heavy mass of
black hair, a straight, resolute red mouth, and a
haughty face that held httte womanly softness, but
much cold detcrnunation and contiilent strength. Her
eyes, set under wide thick dark brows, were as black
as her hair, and had u straight piercing glance like
the flash of a keen sword. She was dres '-ed splendid-
ly in a purple robe embroidered with ^old and pearls,
and had jewels in her locks and on her neck and
hands. Plainly she was not one to hide her feelings,
for tliough the two below were now looking up at
her she did not chaagc lier attitude or withdraw
her gaze, but stood regarding them with an ominous
intentness that verged on insolence.

This fixed look haa some effect on Francesca, who
stirred, flushed, and presently rose, abandoning
O'Meara, who. not in the least abashed, was sitting
defiantly motionless and returning the lady's stare
with interest. "Good-bye," she murmured, with a
smile and a sigh and a last witching glance from the
corners of her eyes.

"Why, sure you won't be leaving me. Madonna?"
cried the Irishman in dismay. "The divil take her,
if you go because she appears! How dare she glare
at you like that? Come, stay, if only to show her
how little you heed her scowls."

"I dare not," whispered Francesca. "She would
tell my father that I sat here talking with you, and
he would be greatly angered. Good-bye." With a
last alluring glance she left him and ran lightly up

Sir John Hawkwood Oi

the steps, pausing by Violante to drop a curtsy.
Good-day, my lady," she said, in greeting.
Violante nodded somewhat curtly. 'Thank you
Madonna." she answered, in a voice that was full
and rich, but very dominant. "I too wish you a
good-day, and. though you may not thank me for
my solicitude, I take the liberty to also wish you bet-
tcr company."

Francesca flushed charmingly in anger and vexa-
tion, half turned as if to retort, then thought better
of It and vanished through the gallerv door with
a defiant toss of her pretty head, while Violante
having gazed after her in displeasure for a moment'
began slowly to descend the stair:

If Francesca had been intimidated by the fav-
orite's wife, however. O'Meara had not, nor was it
in his nature to retreat save in good order. "Faith
the company was good enough a minute since.'
though now I'll admit 'tis none of the best " he re-
marked truculently, no doubt addressing 'the cir-
cumambient air. since his gaze was directed on no
one in particular. The words had hardly left his
ips when he caught sight of Delia Torre returning
through the loggia gate, a sight that seemed to drive
away his last remnant of patience. "Worse and
worse! I'll be after going into the outer court; this
IS no place for a peaceable man who doesn't want
the crime of murder on his soul," he growled noisi-
ly. passing the favorite and betaking himself out
through the gate.

'ip

11=

62 Sir John Hawkwood

Delia Torre's face had changed swiftly at sight
of his w''*- losing the haughty repellent look it wore
for .' •• -ot of the world, and lighting with a tender
glow that surprised me. "Ah, my sweet, is that
you? I came here on my way to seek you," he said

eagerly.

Violante did not seem to perceive his approach.
She had now reached the last step of the staircase,
and paused there with her head thrown back slightly
and her lip drawn between her teeth. "The insolent
knave!" she said, in the low cutting tones a strong
man might have used under stress of anger. "How
dares he, a hired fighter, a mercenary, address me
in words like those? It is unbearable, monstrous I
Since these gentry came to Verona the city has been
no better than a camp; I marvel how the Prince al-
lows horse-boys in his palace!"

"What? The Irish rogue? Did he dare offer
you an affront?" cried Delia Torre, his dark fa^
flaming into a rage as fierce as Antonio della Scala's
own. "He shall rue it dearly, Violante! This very
instant I will go call my lackeys to beat him from

the palace gates "

I smiled grimly, thinking with pity of the lackeys
to whom such a charge might be given. Having no
desire to spy on the favorite and his wife, I stretched
myself, rose, and was about to emerge from my
hiding-place when the lady's next words halted me.
"Wait, listen," she said swiftly, catching his sleeve
as he swung about. Instantly he paused, his angry

¥■

Sir John Hawkwood 63

eyes softening unconsciously as they rested on her
face. She went on swiftly and angrily, her jewelled
hands clinched, her eyes blazing. "What would you
do to the Irishman? He is a hireling, beneath your
notice, of no consequence. It is his master of whom
we have to think, Ranucio, his master who daily
shows you such insolence as this man shows me."

"Yes, Sir John !" said Delia Torre gloomily. The
rage had died from his face at my name, leaving a
kind of sullen dejection in its place. I sank down
again on the bench. All was fair in war, and if this
worthy couple— my remorseless foes. I knew— were
about to discuss me, I was disposed to learn all I
might of their plans.

The woman confronted her husband in a blaze
of scornful anger that made her magnificently beau-
tiful. "You acknowledge it, then? And yet you
bear It!" she cried fiercely. "Shame! You, a noble
of Verona, the Prince's favorite, stand second in
this Court to a mercenary, a ruffling bravo, an ad-
venturer! one who scorns you openly and treats you
with insolence in Antonio's very presence! When
the Veronese forces go out to battle, who commands
them? Do you? No, you march under this man's
orders! Ah, you are a rare noble indeed, you whom
any drunken bully dares to bait! Sir John Hawk-
wood! a tailor's son, knighted by some trickery, and
disgracing the name of chivalry by his life! Every
tavern in Verona knows him; he drinks and revels
like the worst of his cutthroat fiends; he kills aU

Sir John Hawkwood

1 fi.^

who offend him, cracks the heads of those who
block his way on the streets— and you endure his
insolence ! Are you a man, then, or have I for these
years unknowingly been wedded to a coward?"

"I can do nothing, dear wife," said Delia Torre,
gloomily. His face was very dark, but plainly its
rage was all for me and not at all for Violante. "He
has had the Prince's favor from the first, or I would
have made short work of putting him from my way
forever. I hate him to the death "

"And I ! I could kill him with my own hand, that
he dares hold the power that you should enjoy, my
husband, my beloved!" cried his wife, with an out-
burst of passionate tenderness that transfigured her.
At the words Delia Torre caught her hands in his
and kissed them, and she smiled on him radiantly,
but a moment later drew away, the lines of her
face hardening again. "Come, listen, Ranucio, for
this matter is serious. For months now this Eng-
lishman has led every siege and every sally, has won
great victories for Antonio, and thrust you aside.
The Prince has given him more favor and more, till
all the Court has begun to whisper that with his
warlike successes and his bluster and his tales of
adventure he has got the love of our master, and
will push you aside and rule as favorite. And why
not? Antonio has taken a strange fancy to him,
humors his wild ways, delights in showing him
honor. Last week, when you spoke against him, the
Prince silenced you sternly ; another month, and he

Sir John Hawkwood

will maybe banish you and set up this roeue in-
stead ." *

"I too feared that until to-day, but now I have
good news," answered Delia Torre, with a look of
evil triumph. "Sir John is a fool, and has done
that which will not be undone easily. Listen, my
beloved. To-day Antonio, in my presence, spoke to
the Englishman concerning this affair of the Prin-
cess Giulia— I told you of it last night, you recall?"
"Yes, yes," she cried eagerly. "Go on."
"He refused to play his part. Yes, believe it or
not as you please, this ruffianly cutthroat, this man
who has a 'vorse name than any in Verona, has
scruples in ih.s matter, and will not carry off the
girl, though the Prince offered his famous dia-
mond and a fat bag of coins in payment. I think
he is mad! Well, the affair must be carried through
without his help. The Prince has determined that
It shall be done during the hunt to-morrow. \ ou
and I are to draw off the Princess from the others,
and then to feign to lose our way. After some
wandering we will come upon the little road-inn near
the black wood— you know the place?— and alight
there for an instant's rest and food. Then a party
of the Prince's troopers will come upon us, led by
Gianni Potrero, who has done other matters of this
sort for our master and may be trusted. They will
seize her and carry her off to the castle near Vin-
cenza, you understand, showing her no rudeness, and
declaring their intention to hold her for ransom. The

'ill

66 Sir John Hawkwood

next day Antonio will ride out with his men and
rescue her, and he trusts she will be sufficiently
grateful to love him in return. It is a foolish scheme,
eh? Were I in his place I would seize her and
force her into marriage, and care little enough
for her love if I could get her lands; but my lord
is mad over her face as well as her moneybags, and
he is the master. It should be easily done, I think,
if once we can separate her f- m the rest of the
hunt ; and your sharp wits will .d a way to do that.
eh?"

"The plan is very bold," said Violante thought-
fully. "To seize the Princess in Antonio's own
lands, his troopers aiding! Unless she is witless she
must surely guess that none would dare a thing so
desperate without the Prince's connivance. Well,
it matters nothing to us. What has this to do with
Sir John Hawkwood ?"

Delia Torre's dark handsome face lit up with a
sneering triumph. "This, my sweet— that Antonio
is bitterly angered against him f6r his refusal, and
for his rough handling of that old fool Lord Rai-
mondo, and for a hundred other small insolences
which he has done in the past. The day of reckoning
Is at hand now. Antonio has determined to be re-
venged, and faith, when he is in such a mood I do
not envy the man he hates. He is not very merci-
ful, our royal master. Well, he plans to be gracious
as ever to Sir John for some ten days more, and
allow him to besiege and take one more Paduan town

Sir John Hawkwood

which would be better in our hands than Duke
Francesco's. Then, says my lord, he will need the
Englishman no more, and will throw him into prison
— and once that is done we need feel small uneasi-
ness, for those who enter a cell in Verona do not
often come out. He is an imbecile, this man. Had
he played his cards well and done all the Prince
desired he might have risen to be the favorite and
to see me banished; as it is, I shall rule here long
after he is dead."

Violante threw out her hands in a gesture of
fierce delight. "All, Ranucio," she cried, "this is
surely a happy turn of fate for us ! I had thought
Sir John Hawkwood a man of sense, not a madman
who would fling away all things for some weak
scruple! Now he will be cleared from our path,
and you will have none to stand in your way, my
lord, my love!" Her eyes narrowed shrewdly, and
she stood for a moment lost in deep thought.
"Ranucio," she said, slowly, "the Prince is variable,
as we have reason to know; he blows hot one day
and cold the next. In a week he may change his
mind and forgive the Englishman, and then what
advantage will we have gained from all this ? I tell
you, now when Antonio is wroth against him is the
time to make his downfall quite sure by a final
blow."

"With all my heart," Delia Torre answered. "I
would give half my life to ruin him. But how?"

She laid her hand on his arm. "I have thought

Sir John Hawkwood

much over the matter," she told him, "but I had not
hoped for so favoring a chance as this. Antonio
IS angered and suspicious, ready to believe any tale
that comes to his ears. Listen— you know that his
hatred of Padua is no less than a madness. He
dreams of a day when he shall take Francesco
Carrara prisoner and spurn him with his foot; he
plans fearful torments for him, he lives only to con-
quer him and his lands. Now, my friend, what
thmk you he would do to a servant of his who
sought to betray him to Padua?"

"We know that already," Delia Torre answered,
stanng at her. "Do you not recall the fate of poor
Cagliari, whose treachery was discovered a year
ago? They tore his eyes from his head, pulled out
his tongue— faugh! I shudder still when I recall it!"
Violante smiled, her resolute red lips curling apart
so evilly that I thought she had the look of a
sorceress at her incantations. All of this conference
was, it must be admitted, no very pleasant hearing
for me, and I had a presentiment that worse still
was to come. Fortunately, among my very few vir-
tues I numbered courage and coolness, and I now re-
tained sufficient presence of mind to remain motion-
less behind my flowery screen and lose no word of
what was said. "Well." the woman continued slowlv,
"do you not understand? Sir John Hawkwood has
betrayed us. For a long time he has been plotting
with Francesco Carrara. All that we need is to
intercept a packet from him to the Duke, contain-

Sir John Hawkwood 69

ing clear proofs of his treason, and lay it before
our lord the Prince !"

Her plan was clear to me on the instant, and its
horrible cunning struck me with a kind of stunned
admiration. Small wonder Ranucio della Torre
had ruled Verona for years, with a woman such as
this to help him cast down his rivals and clear his
path! At present he was looking at her stupidly.
"But Sir John has not conspired," he muttered, "and
there is no such packet, Violante."

"No," she answered, with the same evil smile.
"But if you arrested one of Sir John's troopers as
he was leaving the city, searched him — ^yourself,
without witnesses, or with witnesses whom you
might trust — and then gave Antonio a packet pur-
porting to have been concealed upon him — what
then, my good friend? Would it lessen the Prince's
wrath that the packet was a forged one? For he
would not know that, you see."

Della Torre started as the meaning of her words
burst on him. For a moment he stood quite silent,
reflecting, while she watched him eagerly. "It might
be done as you say; the plan is a shrewd one
enough," he said presently, in a curiously muffled
voice. "But in doing this I doom the Englishman
to a frightful death, to sufferings of such horror
as your mind could never paint. Antonio has no jot
of mercy in Him, and an accusation such as this
would turn him to a fiend "

"Well, and what of that?" cried his wife. "Are

r 1

I
n5

70 Sir John Hawkwood

you so soft-hearted that you care what ill comes to
an enemy? Such a chance may never come again.
See, you run no risk, you can never be discov-
ered "

••It would be treachery," said Delia Torre. "I am
not a good man, not a scrupulous man ; you know it.
But I have never done such a thing as this."

••Think," she urged craftily. "He will be swept
from your path forever. You need never again
fear that he will get the Prince's favor by his vic-
tories. He will never more crack his insolent jests
at your expense "

••But to see him die in torment by my plotting ! I
do not like it," the favorite muttered. "I would
rather fight in the open. Consider "

"You hesitate?" Violante cried scornfully. "Are
you then one of these white-faced churchmen who
dare not snatch what they dare long for ? Are you
a coward? Then let this Englishman climb higher,
higher, finally take your place as favorite and cause
your ruin! Scruples will never hinder him; he will
form a plot of his own, and carry it out, and con-
quer. Choose between your fall and his. Since
when, Ranucio, have you grown so scrupulous?
You were of a different mind when you joined with
Antonio in his plot for his brother's death !"

"Hush, Violante! Are yor msdr ' cried her hus-
band, peering about the loggia with startled eyes.
"U you were heard to ^^ak such words "

"You pleased me better in that business," she

Sir John Hawkwood 71

swept on passionately. "Then you did not fear to
look on flowing blood— then you were a man! Barto-
lomeo hated you, Antonio favored you, and your
fortune hung on which of the two got full power
in Verona. You made your choice, and shared in
the killing. Well, have you been the worse for it?"
"Indeed, I have never looked back with pleasure
to that night," said Delia Torre, hoarsely. "When
I shut my eyes I can see Bartolomeo as he lay at my
feet when all was over, blood on his blond head,
blood running from his scarlet hunting-habit. And
what you urge on me is worse. You propose black

treachery "

"Can you put such a name to words of mine?"
cried Violante. "Then you scorn me, you despise
me! It is natural, I suppose. You are a noble, and
I am but the daughter of a merchant ; though you
wedded me, you do not hold me your equal, but
look down on me and my thoughts of honor. Ah,
I knew your Court friends made a mock of me, but
I had believed you held me dear. Now I see the
truth "

"Hush, hush!" cried Delia Torre, his face as
• white as if she had struck him. "When you say
such words you tear my heart in two. Why, my
sweet, you know you are all the world to me — you
know that since the day when, riding out to hunt
with the Prince, I saw you standing in the door of
your father's shop, I have had no thought but for
you. I love you, Violante; I am as proud to call

Sir John Hawkwood

you wife as if you were a king's daughter; I love
you "

He had caught her in his arms, and she clung to
him passionately. "As I love you, my husband, my
beloved!" she breathed; then, freeing herself, "But
as I shall love you no more if you prove iraven now!
Do as I entreat you, assure Hawkwood's ruin, or I
despise you, and despise myself that I have wor-
shipped you. For your sake and for mine, stamp
down this adventurer. Every day sees his star more
in the ascendant. Soon he will overthrow you, and
I shall see you in the dust, and my heart will be
broken and my life shattered. Oh, will you hesi-
tate in a desperate case like this?"

Delia Torre made a gesture of surrender. "I
will do it. You shall have your way. You know
very well that I can refuse you nothing, my be-
loved," he said, and she cried out triumphantly and
swayed toward him with a flushed face and starry
eyes.

"In a good hour!" she exclaimed. "All will be
well now. Come into the palace, Ranucio, and we
will speak further of this and perfect the plan." She
put out her hand and took his, and they passed to-
gether up the stairs and through the gallery door.

'*4

CHAPTER V.

CIULIA

For some time after their departure I made no
movement to come out from my hiding-place, but
remained motionless, my chin propped in my hands
and my thoughts busy with what I had overheard.
Long years of peril and tense situations had given
me sound nerves, yet I take no shame to confess that
at present I felt a trifle blank and not a little at a
loss. Antonio della Scala had shown me favor and
indulgence for so long that I had fancied myself
necessary to him, and had believed no action on my
part could prick him into anger. Well, I was ex-
cellently paid for my conceit. He was tired of me ;
he had no doubt been checking up for a long time
certain curt speeches of mine, which I, like a true
soldier, had forgotten as soon as said, and now
meant to wipe the score clear once for all. For
some ten days yet he would show me his usual
graciousness ; he would send me out to capture him
another town. I was glad to have heard that, at
least! Certainly I would spare myself the trouble of
any further fighting in his cause. Then he planhed
to throw me into prison; and, as if this were not
enough, Della Torre and his wife were plotting to

^•4 Sir John llawkwood

regale him with such a set of hes concerning me as
woultl surely drive him into a nuinlerous fury. Car-
rara was his pet hatred, even as \'iolantc had said,
and he would have small mercy on me if he suspected
me of treason. 1 had seen Antonio della Scala mas-
tered hy rage more than once, and at such times he
was no more nor less than a hend, delighting in the
blackest cruelty, laughing to see his victims suffer.
No dotibt he would plan for me some such end as
Caglinri had enjoyed, the wretched traitor who had
lost his eyes and tongue, and then l)een broken on
the wheel.

I laughed at the thought, setting my shoulders
back and jerking my head. I had weathered worse
storms than this m my time. Danger and I wf-re
old friends, and it would surprise me not 1 little
if I left my b(5nes to bleach in Verona. "There
is a way out of everything." I reflected, to encourage
myself. "In this case, no doubt, the wisest course
is to take myself out of Antonio's lands as quickly
asmayac^ And where shalll go? Well, as to that,
no doubt I can find a refuge. There are princes
and dukes a-plenty Wiio would be glad enough to get
me and my lances for friends. I will go find
O'Mear^i- and talk with him concerning the mat-
ter " A slight sound startled me, and I glanced

up hastily.

A young and very beautiful girl was slowly de-
scending the staircase, one hand resting lightly on
the balustrade, the other gathering up her gown.

Sir John Hawkwood

She might have been seventeen or eighteen years old,
not more, yet her obvious youth was counter-acted
in some sort by a dcHcate remote air of pride and
aloofness, the look, it might be, of one placed so high
above the rest of the world that its doings could
concern her little. Her hair was soft and dark, and
shaded a low forehead. She had large, lustrous
dark eye^ that were both sweet and proud, screened
by black lashes that fell on her cheeks when she let
them droop. Her skin was of the waxen whiteness
of a camellia blossom, and her scarlet lips curved
in lines that were at once soft and haughty. She
wore a white dress with a cluster of yellow roses
pinned at the breast, and had across her shoulders
a white scarf flowered and branched in gold. Framed
by the mass of flowers above and below, her slender
figure stood out clearly, marvellously and delicately
beautiful, perfect as some flawless painting. All
about her breathed a subtle compelling charm,
though she had the air of one too proud to value any
homage paid her loveliness.

She descended the stairs very slowly, stood for a
moment gazing about her, and then seated herself on
the marble bench where Francesca and O'Meara had
ensconced themselves among the flowers. Her head
fell back against the roses, and she sat motionless
and silent, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes
fixed absently on the loggia gate. She did not look
happy; her every feature spoke of a vague unrest
?.nd trouble, long hidden, revealed for an instant

Sir John Hawkwood

here in solitude as though she had raised a curtain
and displayed a hidden window.

It was the Princess Giulia, Antonio della Scala's
cousin, known as the proudest and loveHest lady in
all Italy. I had seen her a hundred times, but never
before had I seen her alone, and never had I seen
this look of trouble in uer eyes. One might have
thought, indeed, that she had small cause for any
grief. She was young, she was rich, she had great
beauty and a great dowry. All her life she had
lived in a gorgeous Court, served and flattered and
adored. She spent her days in hawking and danc-
ing and feasting, and many men had loved her in
vain, and now the Prince of Verona desired to put
his crown on her head and his sceptre in her hands.
I had seen her dancing in the great hall of the palace,
splendid in silks and jewels, and walking in the gar-
dens with twenty cavaliers about her, and riding
through the city with a falcon on her wrist, and al-
ways there had been a proud smile on her lips and a
serene look on her face. Yet now there was trouble
in her eyes; and I, who knew trouble too, and hid
it from all under rough laughter or rougher temper,
had power to read that it was no passing thing that
moved her, but some doubt or fear that had long
Iain heavy on her heart.

On the instant I forgot my own danger, Della
Torre's treachery, the Prince's deadly plot against
me; now I remembered only that this lady too was
in the toils, that they meant to practice on her and

Sir John Hawkwood 'jy

drive her into marriage with the Prince. They had
desired me to help them in it. Saints! was I sunk
so low that men believed me capable of such a deed
as that? And yet why not, since I was known to
all for a ruffling bully and brawler, as ungentle as
my troopers? I bit my lip savagely and muttered a
curse. The best thing I could do was to go hang my-
self ; failing that, to get to horse and speedily take
myself away from a city which was like to prove un-
healthy for me if I dallied long.

As for this giri, what was she to me? I could
not help her even if I desired it. Suppose I warned
her of what was in the wind, would she believe me?
Would she suspect Antonio della Scala, her own
cousin, on the word of one who bore such a name
as mine? Her face sp ke of a pnde that would
scorn any man not of royal birth and blood— how
much more Sir John Hawkwood, free companion,
cutthroat mercenary? Well, and even if the scheme
succeeded, it would not be such a bad fate for her
to sit by Antonio and rule Verona. I had affairs
enough of my own to consider, and had better cease
to think of hers.

Instead of carrying out this sensible resolution,
I rose, came out of my flowery screen, and ap-
proached the bench. "Your pardon, Princess," I said,
pausing before her, "will you grant me a word on a
matter of much import ?"

The troubled look vanished from her eyes at
sound of my voice. She looked up quickly, met my

■■ !

P"!

78 Sir John Hawkwood

gaze, and recognized me. On the instant her mouth
hardened and her every feature took on an air of
haughty surprise and scorn. She looked very beauti-
ful in this guise, but also very forbidding, and I
saw anew the folly of my attempt. "What can you
desire of me?" she asked, in the tone she might have
used to a lackey. "You mistake, I think ; I do not
know you — I have never seen you before."

That she should greet me so roused the slumber-
ing devil that, alas, lay always near the surface with
me in those wild days of my life. Nor was I quite
without excuse. That day I had refused to join
Antonio's plot against her, and had so lost his favor
and plunged myself into an imbroglio that was like
to cost me dear. Now I came to warn her, and she
looked at me as ar the dust beneath her scarlet-shod
feet. It was never my way to turn the other cheek,
and a great anger rose in me and blotted out reason.

I flung back my head and laughed, and she stared
at me with widening eyes. No doubt I looked
dangerous enough, with my rough jerkin and grim
scarred face and black look of niirtli. "You have
never seen me before?" I cried, still shaking,
though I was far more savage than light-hearted.
"What, have you never seen the White Company
march through the streets of Verona under my com-
mand? Then you are the only person in the city
who has not! And have you never marked me in
all the times I have come to the palace to confer with
the Prince? I have passed within touch of you

Sir John Hawkvvood

often; and once a jewelled clasp fell from your
sleeve as I went by, and I restored it to you and
received a cold word of thanks in payment. Oh,
yes, Princess, you mistake ; you have seen me before
to-day."

Of the two of us. Princess and condottiere, the
great lady was the more at a loss for an instant. I
doubt not it was the first time in all her life that
such words had fallen on her ears, and they stunned
her. At once, however, her amazement passed,
and a fierce anger blazed up in her eyes. " I know
not what right you have to speak to me or to ap-
proach me or to question my words," she said,
watching me through lowered lids and speaking with
a contempt that bit me, "but I suppose you know
no better. It is true we have seen each other be-
fore to-day; and I have not only seen you, I have
heard of you, Sir John Hawkwood." She clinched
her hands, still fully meeting my gaze. "I have
heard of your tavern revels, your street brawls, your
drunken shameless fashion of life — and I turn cold
with rage to think that you dare address me, the
Prince's cousin, the first lady of tlie Court ! Learn
your proper place, sir ; go out yonder in the square
and talk to the horse-boys and the pages. Do not
address us who are of another world, or my cousin
will know how to teach you better manners." She
turned her eyes disdainfully aside, and sat with a
slight flush on her cheeks, her quick breath stirring
the roses at her breast.

Sir John Ilawkwood

:!.

|i '

"Yes," I said, unmoved and smiling darkly on
her, "you know me for a wild reveller and brawler,
do you not? Yet many nobles are that. It is not for
my fashion of life that you despise me, but because
my birth is less high than yours. If I were blame-
less as any saint, would you not even then disdain
to hold speech with me unless I could show as many
quarterings as these Court fops?"

Again she tried to crush me with her scorn.
Strangely enough, no thought appeared to come to
her of leaving me and so ending our distasteful inter-
view—or perhaps she wished to humble me first.
"It is not my custom," she said haughtily, "to talk
with tailors, sir. 1 have heard that your father
was of that profession." Had she accused me of
being fathered by the devil her tone could have
held no more contempt.

I laughed again, and this time with real amuse-
ment. "Do you know. Madonna Giulia," I asked,
"that some dozen persons have already made that
statement to me, and that all of them have bittei!y
repented it almo.st within the instant? Ah, well, I
will not avenge myself on you — I will even tell you
the facts of my parentage, though I have never done
as much before. Those who say that my father was
a tailor lie most villainously. He was not. He was
a tanner. And I too was a tanner's apprentice be-
fore I left England ind took to soldiering."

She turned her eyes away from me as if loath to
contemplate a thing so mean. The action stung me

^t|

Sir John Ilawkwood

unreasonably. "Yes, you tliink 1 come of very poor
stock," 1 said harshly, "but to my miiiU my birth
is as good as Prince Antonio's."

She looked at me, her anger lost in utter amaze-
ment. "Why, you talk madness," she exclaimed.
"You are a tanner's son, and you would compare
yourself with a Delia Scala, a great and powerful
Prince?"

"He is descended from a crafty murderer; his
father and his grandfather were villains, so were
all his race from the beginning," I answered reck-
lessly. "Look at him, Princess— what do you see
in him ? A hero, a mighty ruler ? I see a smirking,
drawling fop with paint on his cheeks, tricked out
in silks and jewels, appearing more like a woman
than a man. If I engaged with him in a hand to
hand contest, which of us would win. do you think—
the last of all the Scaligeri, or plain John Hawk-
wood, who has the strength of an ox in his arm and
the skill of a fiend with his sword? Faith. I would
rather be myself than Antonio della Scala!"

She stared at me in anger mixed with wonder.
"I think you are quite mad," she said indignantly.
"How dare you speak so to me concerning my own
.>"

'This noble blood, of what use is it?" I demanded
bitterly. "How many of your great lords and
princes can take towns and win battles, as I can do?
If they tried to fight for themselves, they would fail
most shamefull; . They hire me to do such work for

race

Sir John Hawkwood

»i i'

■nl

them! I keep them firmly seated on their thrones,
I make them great and powerful — but they despise
me because I have no ancient title with which to
deck out my name! Little enough do I care for
that, when I see that it is I who rule their destinies
by the winning of their battles. It seems to me, when
I pause to reflect, that I am greater and more power-
ful than those who hold their heads so high and re-
joice so loudly over the possession of a few quar-
terings!"

She laughed with a light scorn more biting than
her anger. "It is something to be a prince, to rule
and hire others," she said. "You would know that.
Sir John Hawkwood, if you were yourself of good
birth. As it is, I do not think my cousin need care
very greatly whether he pleases you or not. It is
not the custom of the Scaligeri to seek the love of
free companions."

So young and lovely was she in her pride, so soft
of feature despite her contempt, that I felt the
anger die from my heart as I looked at her. I
remembered how this cousin whom she defended
planned to dupe her into marriage, and my face set
hard at the thought. "Princess," I said gently,
"you defend the house of Delia Scala with great
warmth. Do you love it so? You are kin to the
house of Carrara too, and Duke Francesco claims
you for his ward — do you not wish at times that
you might go to him and be quit of this bloody
Court ruled by an evil Prince?"

■i

Sir John Hawkwood

Her blazing eyes sought to shrivel me with their
fire. "Are you mad to speak to me in this fashion?"
she flashed; and then, passionately, "Prince An-
tonio is not evil, nor is his Court bloody. I have
lived here since my childhood; Can Signorio della
Scala was kind to me as any father, and my cousin
Antonio has never denied mc any indulgence. I am
happy here, and your insolence is very great to

question me concerning the matter " She broke

off, striving to resume her cold aloofness.

"No, you are not happy at all," 1 answered, with
a directness that was brutal. "It is part of my trade
to read others, and long practice has made my eyes
sharp. You may tell me what you please, but I
know very well that you are troubled and distressed,
and would be friglitened if you had not a higher
braver spirit than is given to most women."

She sat staring at me, too dazed for words.

"I read you plainly enough," I went on harshly.
If I were to help her or convince her it could not be
by gentleness. "You know that Della Scala desires
to marry you, and the thought fills you with horror,
though you seek to convince yourself that you are
wrong. You fear this simpering fool who killed
his own brother "

At the words a blank staring terror filled her face.
She swayed on the marble bench, put out her hands
for support, and, with the air of one sick with fear
of what she might see, turned her eyes slowly about
the loggia to discover if I had been overheard. Yes ;

Sir John Ilawkwood

she had poured scorn and anger on my head, but in
that moment her first thought was plainly for my
danger. She was a woman, after all, and not with-
out a heart.

"Well, I was right. I see," said I, laughing grimly.
"You fear him. And why not? If he will slay a
brother, may he not slay a wife too? Were I a
fair lady I think I would not choose to wed him,
even though he could make me great and power-
ful. I think his consort will not sleep soundly o'
nights for dreaming of steel and poison. I cannot
blame you. Madonna, that you are fearful and un-
certain rather than happy and proud at thought of
becoming the Princess of Verona."

"You are surely mad," she murmured, still sick
with terror. "Had any heard you then and carried
the tale to my cousin, nothing in all the world
could have saved you from a terrible death. Have
you never seen his wild savage temper, that you dare
tempt him so?" She stiffened, her anger returning.
"Indeed, I think you deserve that some one should
have heard you," she said proudly, though her breath
still came fast. "What you say is a vile invention,
a lie. Prince Bartolomeo was killed by old Nogaro-
la and the young noble to whom his daughter was
betrothed. They have paid the penalty for their
crime, and if the people mouth and chatter suspicions
of my cousin, what need he care for the words of
of the rabble? They are dogs, no more! It is
an unkniglitly thing, Sir John Hawkwood, that

Sir John Hawkwood

you should make such accusations behind the back
of the man in whose service you are!"

"I never bound myself to uphold the Prince's do-
ings in my speech ; I swore only to defend them with
my sword," I answered. "I affirm on my honor
that I believe him guilty of his brother's death. As
for an accusation made behind his back, do you
think I fear him? If you like I will go find him
now, wherever he may be, and ask him to his face
who killed Bartolomeo." And I swung half round
on my heel, possessed by a sudden impulse of wild
reckless daring.

Giulia sprang up from the bench. Her gold-broid-
cred scarf, loosened by the sudden movement, fell
from her shoulders to the pavement. There was
terror in her face. "No, no! Stop, Sir John!" she
cried, clutching my arm with fingers that had grown
suddenly cold. "He would kill you! Do not go!"

For a long minute I made no answer at all, but
stood gazing down into her eyes. "Well, then,"
I said at last, "I will not." Her fingers dropped
from my arm, and she drew away with a slight flush
that was half wonder and half relief. I stooped and
picked up her shining scarf, and she held out her
hand to take it. "This is a pretty thing," I said, eye-
ing it curiously, and keeping it out of her reach.
"Such a token is said to work marvels in time of
battle for the favored knight who bears it. Will you
give me this. Madonna, to knot on the handle of my
lance?"

Sir John Hawkwood

A haughty frown drew her brows together. "As-
suredly I will not," she said coldly. "Return it to
me, thea"

"And why?" I asked, smiling and not obeying

her.

"Because in all my life I have never given a
token, not even to a royal prince," she answered,
her dark eyes flashing angrily into mine. "Return
me my scarf, I say."

I folded it calmly and stored it in my pouch. "I
will wind it about my lance," I said, "and it shall
inspire me to such valorous deeds as I never did
before. I have heard Prince Antonio say that you
love romance. Very good, I will be your knight,
and carry your colors to glory and victory."

A proud anger shook her and dyed her cheeks.
"You dare too much," she cried. "Can you not un-
derstand that I am of royal blood, a princess, a
great lady ? Do you think I will endure the shame
of knowing that you wear my scarf — you, a mer-
cenary, a condottiere, a soldier of fortune, and the
son of a tanner — you, whom my cousin bribes with
scudi to fight his battles? It is beyond bearing!
Give it back ! Why, you fool, do you not know that
I can send the best knights of the Court to take it
from you, if I choose.^"

I laughed recklessly. "Send them then, Madon-
na. I am a rough fellow, I have no knack for chop-
ping words with great ladies, but as for men, I think
I may account for any knight you may send against

Sir John Hawkwood

»f

me. I am not a weakling — you will find that the
tanner's son can hold his own against any noble of
Verona. And I will keep your scarf, and carry it
through all my combats, all my combats till I diel"

We faced each other for a long instant, her eyes
full of rage and scorn, mine full of mirth. "Ah,"
she said, under her breath, "ah, how I hate you, Sir
John Hawkwood!"

The words hurt me strangely. "No, do not hate
me," I said gently, "for I wish you well. Madonna.
I sought you here to tell you a thing that concerns
you greatly. Will you listen? You may trust what
I tell you—"

As I spoke a group of courtiers came out on the
gallery, laughing and chattering. At the sight Giulia
started, dropped her lashes on her flushed cheeks,
and turned from me. "A moment, Princess— only
a moment, for your own sake," I said, low and
urgently. She paid me no heed. Gathering up her
dress, she passed me without another glance, went
quickly up the stairs, and mingled with the group
above.

I had lost my chance to warn her ; I had wasted
precious moments in foolish changing of words —
and to-morrow Antonio della Scala's troopers were
to carry her off and hold her prisoner till his coming.

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CHAPTER VI

THE TURNING-POINT

It was night when I reached the tavern, yet 1
was the first arrival there. The candles were lighted,
and under their softening rays the tiled floor strewn
with old bear-skins appeared less shabby, while the
worn drooping red tapestries on the walls took on a
warmth and richness of color that pleased and held
the eye. At the left of the room was a great fire-
place, full of blazing logs. Blue smoke and the odor
of rcisting meat drifted in from the near-by kitchen,
where supper was being got ready.

I sat down at one of the tables set for whatever
guests might appear, and stared now at the window,
now at the fire, but without noting either the one or
the other. After a time the host's pretty daughter
came in, brought me half-a-dozen flasks of wine at
my order, and lingered, willing to drink or chat with
me had I encouraged her. At another time I might
have paid some heed to her bold laughing eyes, red
saucy lips, and biting wit, but to-night none of these
held interest for me, and I remained darkly silent,
making no answer to her sallies.

"Ah, well," she said after a pause, with a toss of
her comely head, "you are not very civil to-night,

Sir John Havvkwood

Sir John Hawkwood. You are a man of moods,
eh ? Last night you came in laughing and humming
a catch, and kissed me when I brought the wine, and
would have me sit on your knee and drink out of
your cup. You told me battle-tales till near dawn,
do you remember? I vow, though, it would not sur-
prise me over-much if you had forgotten, for you
were in a sad state when you left this house. Had
not Messer O'Meara led you through the streets I
think you would never have found your lodging.
And now you come here and look through me as if
I were made of air! I have seen many men and
many soldiers, Sir John, but none like you!"

"As well for the others!" I muttered, without
looking at her. She laughed and swung herself on
the table-edge, showing a dainty foot and ankle.

"You puzzle me," she said, propping her chin in
her hands. "Sometimes you are gay, sometimes
you are grim. And yet I think you are never
truly merry. When you laugh loudest there is
bitterness in your face, and when you drink most
deeply you have the air of one sick at heart. As for
me, you think no more of me when you smile at me
and talk of my eyes and lips than when you pass me
without a glance. Is not that so?"

She had startled me into looking at her, for the
words were truer ones than I had looked for fronr.
her mouth. She laughed again, and bent toward
me, her neck shining white above the dull red of her
bodice.

90 Sir John Hawkwood

"You are in a black mood now," she said, "one of
the moods that come to you so often, that have cut
those deep lines of reckless gloom across your face.
When you are of this way of thinking your free-
lances fear you as I am quite sure they do not fear
the devil. When you look so you come here for a
wild revelling drinking-bout, or go on the streets
for one of those mad swashbuckling adventures that
have made you feared and haied through all Verona.
You have quarrelled with many men when in this
temper, and always to their hurt. I would give
something to know what comes over you from time
to time. Sir John."

"You who know so much should guess that too,"
I answered, mocking her, but without merriment.

"I think I can," she answered shrewdly. "I think
that there are days when you hate yourself and
scorn your fashion of life, and in such moods
you turn to wine or fighting for relief. That is why
you have so grim and black and reckless a face, why
there is a look of angry defiance in your eyes. So!
you winced then! Did I hit the mark?"

"Go, leave me !" I cried in a rage. "Whatever my
mood may be, it is not one for talk."

"Why, I have no wish to talk with anyone so
rough," she cried, pettishly, and whisked out of the
door with a flirt of her gay petticoat. No sooner
was she gone than I regretted my dismissal of her,
for in truth I was scarce more inclined for solitude
than for chatter that night.

Sir John Hawkwood 91

A little thing had put me out of temper. In the
street near the inn I had passed two friars, dusty
and worn from walking, and they had nudged each
other and whispered at the sight of me. "Sir John
Hawkwood, the great captain," they muttered in
awed tones, and with the deep admiration which, in
wild times, most men of peaceful ways feel for men
of the sword. As they drew back to give me way
they ventured to salute me. "God give you peace, Sir
John Hawkwood," they said together.

I raised my head and stared at them from under
threatening brows. *'God take away your alms,"
I rejoined curtly

The friars stared at each other, amazed at such
a response to their timid civility. They consulted in
whispers for a moment, then the bolder of the
two spoke again. "Have we displeased you. Sir
John? Indeed, we meant no offense," he said, re-
garding me from the shelter of his cowl.

"No offense, when you pray God to give me
peace?" I cried. "Do you not know that I live
by war, and that if peace ever comes to me all my
means of sustenance will be gone? To pray peace
for me is to pray that I shall die of starvation. If
you wish me well, pray that all Italy shall writhe
in the throes of conflict, that blood shall flow like
water." The two friars, comprehending at last, be-
gan to laugh, and I laughed too, but without much
mirth, for I was out of sorts with my freebooting
trade that day.

Sir John Havvkwood

,- ii

As I sat drinking in the tavern their words re-
curred to me and brought a bitter smile to my lips.
"Peace ! What would I do to gain my bread in time
of peace, I wonder," I muttered gloomily. "I am
good for nothing save the taking of towns and the
winning of battles. If the world ever turns from
bloodshed, I shall die for want of bread, or take
refuge in a monastery like those meek fellows. A
rare monk I would make !" I laughed, and again my
laughter was without mirth.

Filling a cup slowly, I drained it, then refilled it.
The candle-light struck across my eyes, and I moved
my chair noisily. "I am good only for warfare,"
I repeated under my breath, and scowled darkly at
the fire. "If one of my many wounds had proved
mortal and I had died, would any living soul have
grieved for me? If in one of my wild sallies I
were to go down and never rise again to my feet, as
may well happen any day of a life like mine, who
would regret me? Who?"

There was O'Meara, my friend and comrade. The
warm-hearted, mercurial Irishman loved me. But
in all the world had I another friend? Many princes
had shown me favor, flattered me, permitted me such
freedom of speech and manner as perhaps they al-
lowed to no one else ; but not for love of me. They
knew my skill as a soldier, my ability to win bat-
tles even when the odds were all against me, and
therefore they made use of me. Well, why not?
I did not love them either, I served them only to

Sir John Hawkwood

get their gold. Why should I care whether or no
they had any affection for me ? Bah ! I was dream-
ing like a foolish girl!

No friend in all the world save the Irishman, an
adventurer like myself! To be sure, my men loved
me after a rough fashion, despite the unceremonious
way in which I was accustomed to treat them. No
doubt they would miss me when the time came that
I could lead them no more. Yet, after all, they
loved my warlike skill, my power to lead them to
victory, rather than myself. A hundred times, un-
der cover of night, I had led them on a sally against
some town, taken the place by storm, given it over
to fire and pillage, and swept away before dawn,
every man laden with the spoils of rich houses. It
was this fashion of life that pleased the White Com-
pany, and they would love anyone who could give
them such diversions.

Having thus conclusively proved my lonely posi-
tion, I poured more wine and drank it, scowling at
the hearth. What was I, after all, but a roystering
adventurer with an evil name for truculence and
wild living? That was how the world thought of
me. That was how

A face took shape between me and the great chim-
ney, a very beautiful, proud face, with dusky hair
and sweet haughty dark eyes veiled by long lashes,
and white skin contrasting with warm scarlet lips.
It was so real that I started, then laughed aloud in
bitterness. How she had scorned me, this cold young

r '(

, i

94 Sir John Hawkwood

girl with the royal look! She thought mc a tavern
loiterer, a man of the same stamp as the members of
my free company. Well, was I not like them ? Was
she not right?

I refilled my empty cup, "I wish I had remained
in England. I wish I had never come across the
seas," I muttered, and drank again.

My thoughts turned to the days when, as a lad, I
had been apprenticed to a tanner, that I might in
time follow my father's trade. Perhaps it would
have been better for me had I done so— yet how I
had hated those months of labor! At the remem-
brance I grimaced, feeling the smell of the tanning-
vats rise again in my nostrils, and the odor of the
steeping hides that my boyish heart had so loathed.
I had been a romantic-minded lad, in spite of my
strength and self-will. Nothing so pleased me as
to hear tales of warfare and chivalry and noble
deeds. I sought out broken old soldiers — there were
hundreds of such in London in those times — and
spent my scant pennies in buying them ale, asking
in return only the story of their adventures in France
and the Low Countries. My stolid practical father
had thought me a fool, and had been confirmed in
this opinion when at last I ran away and joined
the Black Prince's army across the seas. Had it
indeed been a foolish act? If I had remained in
England I might have been a prosperous tanner like
my sire before me, stout and silent, caring nothing

Sir Jolin Hawkwood

for the gleam of arms or the sound of a trumpet.
The picture made me smile grimly.

Those days in France had been happy ones for
me. All my radiant boyish visions h?d seemed to
come true; I had lived among gallant knights and
brave soldiers, and noble gentlemen whose names
stood for chivalry over all the world. My skill alid
my desperate courage won me notice as time went
on ; no less a man than the great Sir John Chandos,
the pride of knighthood, had praised and encouraged
me, and drawn the Prince's notice to my doings. I
had won my golden spurs — ah, the rapture of that
day, when I had the right to mingle with other
knights and surpass them in great deeds if I could 1
At Poictiers I had done good work, had helped not
a little in the winning of the victory, and had led
those who broke through the French King's guard
and took him prisoner.

The Black Prince had loved me and had treated
me as a comrade.

I clinched my hands at the remembrance, for
this man had been my hero, one for whose smile
I would have faced any danger and dared any im-
possible enterprise. I had worshipped this son of a
great ruler, this Prince who was never to be King
of England, yet was to have more fame than anjr
crowned sovereign of them all. What would I not
have done for Black Edward's sake ?

The Peace of Bretigny ended all warfare on the
part of England, and I found myself without means

Sir John I lawk wood

us .

of livelihood. I could never return to my work of
tanning, for the fever of fighting was in my blood
and would never leave it. I gathered a band of
mercenaries, wandered down to Italy, and began to
sell my sword to one ruler and another. I had plied
this trade for long years now, and slowly, slowly, I
had fallen to what I was. It was too late for me to
change.

"Sir John, no one of my lords has a knightUcf
heart than yoxt "

The King's son had spoken these words to me
long ago. I cursed at the remembrance, thinking
of all that had come to pass since. Pulling myself
to my feet, I made my way to the wall, and stared
gloomily into a cracked Venetian mirror that hung
there. The candle-light fell over my shoulder and
threw the reflection of my face back redly, and I
saw myself with a clearness none too pleasing. My
hair was grizzled at the forehead, there were deep
lines about my lips, and an old sword-cut seamed my
right cheek from temple to chin. My eyes were
stern and piercing, my mouth had the look of a
steel trap, and I had an arrogant, reckless air very
like that of my wild troopers.

"Prince Edward, would you know Sir John
Hawkwood if you could see him now?" I muttered
staring at myself.

After a time I went back to my seat, moving
slowly. "Well, well, a few more cups will put me
beyond remorse and regret," I thought savagely,

Sir John Hawkwood

as I poured more wine and brought it to my
lips.

Again GiuHa's face rose before me, pure and
pale, regarding me with dark disdainful eyes. Her
lips moved, and it seemed to me that she was mur-
muring the same words that the Black Prince had
spoken to me so long ago.

In sudden passion I flung my cup violently down.
It clattered on the floor, rolleil over and over, and
stopped at the brink of the fire-place, the spilt wine
marking its course with a thick red stream that had
the look of blood. I laid my arms on the table, bowed
my head ui)on them, and remained quite motion-
less for a long time.

The silence was presently broken by the sound
of hoofs outside, mingling with the catch of an
Irish song in O'Meara's gay rollicking voice. My
lieutenant was coming in search of me. Apparently
he entered by way of the kitchen after leaving his
horse, for his blarneying tones could presently be
heard there addressing the host's daughter. She
detained him as long as possible, no doubt being
taken, like most other women who encountered him,
with his good looks and his gay charm ; and he will-
ingly lingered, being never averse ♦o an exchange of
words with anyone. Laughter ana the noise of a
struggle floated to my ears, then the unmistakable
sound of a kiss. A moment later O'Meara flung
the door open and came in, turning his head across
his shoulder to send back a final shot.

98 Sir John Havvkwood

"Sure and your lips are made of sugar, no less,"
he laughed. "I'd a deal rather breakfast, dine and
sup off tiu'in than off the best meat and wine in the
world. What was it tliey called the food the gods
lived on? I'm thinking 'tis the same as what you —
Now the saints preserve us!" He broke off abruptly,
slamming the door behind him. I had not raised
my head at his entrance, and at sight of my posture
he at once jumped to a conclusion far from flattering
to my general habits. "What, Sir John, again, and
you scarce sober from last night ? By Hivin, it's un-
fit you are to be left alone for a moment. Sorra a
bit of sinse have you got, and I'll say it to your
face — to the back of your neck, rather — if you
break me of my rank for it, or break my head, as
you could do easy enough, you sodden g-1oot you!
How far gone are ye, then?" he scolded, advanc-
ing and shaking my arm energetically. "Think black
shame of yourself. Sir John Hawkwood, you that
are the greatest soldier in Europe, lying here like
any log! Faith and I'm sorry I took the trouble
to defend you against Delia Torre to-day when he
was after hinting you took too much. 'Twas right
he was, and I'll ask his pardon. Are ye gone deaf,
or is it dumb you are?"

"Neither," I answered composedly, straightening
and facing him. It would surely have been an
evil hour for any other man on earth who had so
addressed me, but I was accustomed to allow all
manner of liberties to the Irishman, the more so

S-r Tolin Hawkvvood

that I knew he v'.iAild have flown at the tliroat of
anyone who had dared utter a thousandth part of
the tirade with which he liad just favored me.

At sight of my face he looked properly ashamed
of his misiake. "Kaith and I see you're as sober
as mcsilf," he apologized penitently, "Bad 'cess to
me, I've the mind of a goose — because I see you
with your brow in your hands I must be forming
conclusions as to how many glasses you've had. Sure
and why shouldn't you sit that way if you feel in-
clined? Split me head open if you choose, I'll not
hinder you. There, don't ye be holding it again?*^
me. Sir John, carlint," he coaxed, blarneying me
shamelessly. "After all, 'tis better for a man to
speak out his hard thoughts than to keep them locked
in his heart, is not that the truth? And you know
well that though I may chatter like any jackdaw, I
niver yet failed you in time of need, did I now?"

"Oh, sit down, Michael, and pour yourself some
wine," I said impatiently. "I have something to tell
you. Perhaps, when you have heard it, you will see
the wisdom of leaving me and finding yourself an-
other captain."

"Wirra wirra ! and what is there should make me
feel like that ?" said O'Meara, emptying a cup. "No,
no, I'm thinking you'll just have to put up with me
as long as you live, cruel-like though you may long
to be rid of me. But let's hear this tale of sorrows —
'twill be best for you to get it off your mind."

Thereupon I told him, in detail, all that had

100 Sir John Hawkvvood

j»

passed after he left the loggia of the palace, and all
I had overheard — the Prince's amiable intention to
be rid of me, Violante's plan to complete my dis-
grace, and the plot against the Princess Giulia.
O'Meara heard me out in silence, save for occasional
exclamations of "Mother av mercy!" "Hivin for-
bid !" "The blissid saints preserve us !" and the like.
When I had finished he sat staring at me for some
moments, then passed suddenly from bewilderment
to fury, struck the table a violent blow, and began
with Irish whole-heartedness and volubility to curse
Antonio della Scala. First paying his respects to the
Prince's ancestors, whom he disrespectfully chris-
tened a pack of knaves and cutthroats, he proceeded
to give in detail his unflattering opinion of Can Sig-
norio, and at length arrived at Antonio himself.
On this branch of the subject his vocabulary proved
amazing. He poured forth a steady torrent of abuse,
varied with a strange collection of epith-'ts which
none but an Irishman could have fully comprehend-
ed, but which no one of any nation cculd have had
the slightest difficulty in recognizing as opprobrious
in the extreme. By degrees he be-^ame enraptured
with his own eloquence, and soared to such ex-
traordinary heights that I, albeit in no mood for
mirth, could not repress a burst of laughter. Paus-
ing at last for want of breath, he phook both hands
wildly above his head. "May the divil fly away with
him and take him to his kind!" he gasped, in part-
ing benediction on the unhappy Prince.

Sir John Hawkwood loi

"Be still, you madman," I cried, still laughing.
"How does such raving as that help us? I stand in
need of calm thought now, if ever I stood so in all
my life. Oh, I understand this knave of an Antonio,
and I am aware that I have more to fc.a from him
than from any foe I ever met. If once he gets his
clutches on me I may say good-bye to earth and
make my peace with Heaven. That I have won a
dozen bloody battles for him will not make his
thoughts any the softer to me now !" I propped my
elbows on the table and fell to thinking, with my
eyes narrowed and my brows drawn into a scowl,
while O'Meara watched me and favored me from
time to time with a series of suggestions, each one
more impossible than the last.

"Be Saint Patrick, and why should we let this
villain strike the first blow. Let's march on the
palace and take him prisoner. Why not. Sir John
dear? Sure, and 'tis mesilf has the grand imagina-
tion!" he cried, his blue eyes sparkling with joy
at the thought of battle.

"Too grand a one by far," I retorted curtly. "You
forget that last week, when I took Lerino for my
grateful Prince, I left the White Company within
its walls to hold it should the Paduans try to win
it back. Cortesia Seregno, Antonio's brother-in-
law, is in command of them — he begged the honor
of me, and one cannot refuse such things to a
Prince's kinsman. I fear he is having a sorry time,
poor pompous fool, for I have my doubts how those

102

Sir John Hawkwood

wild devils of mine will amuse themselves once my
hand is off them. I had meant to ride there to-
morrow and restore order." I paused to laugh at
the thought of pompous Seregno, surrounded by the
horde of my grim, scarred, terrible free companions.
"Well, Michael, I have no more than two-score
men here in Verona, and I fear we could not take
the palace with their help."

"Praise be, I have it!" cried the Irishman, with a
war-whoop. "Fling yourself into Lerino! The
White Company will defend you till the last man
falls."

I considered the suggestion for a moment, then
dismissed it with a shake of the head. "No, that
would be a fool's act. Lerino is too close to Padua,
too much desired by Carrara. He would send out
his forces to take it and me — would even heal his
differences with Antonio for the nonce, and join
hands with him in reducing an adventurer bold
enough to seize a town claimed by two great
princes."

"Be the powers, and you're right," confessed
O'Meara, with profound admiration. " 'Tis a great
head you have, no doubt of that. Well, and if you
can't fight, then there's nothing left but *o fly," he
concluded reasonably, "since I take it you've no mind
to sit here waiting till it shall please the Prince to
take you and fling you into prison."

"I could fly very easily," I answered, "though I
should need to show discretion in the choosing of

Sir John Hawkwood 103

my place of refuge, for I have enemies in Italy at
this time. Francesco Carrara is so mightily ang-
ered by the success of my skirmishes against him
that he has sworn to hang me out of hand if ever
I fall into his power — therefore I think it would
not be wise for me to take sanctuary within the
Paduan lines. I have fought so well for Verona that
the houses of Este and Gonzaga both curse my name,
and therefore I will do well to keep clear of Ferrara
and Mantua. The Duke of Milan has an old grudge
against me. No matter, if I have enemies I have also
friends. The Florentines and the Pisans have not
forgotten what I did for them in past days, and
would gladly shelter me for the sake of old times.
They have better memories than Antonio della
Scala."

"Begorra, then, let's get to horse and never draw
rein till we're there," cried O'Meara, "for if the
Prince gets a hint of what we're intending, sure
he'll stop us before ever we're started."

"Yes," I said slowly, "you advise me to the sen-
sible course, Michael. If I delay here, I am no bet-
ter than a fool. But I think I shall not go."

"And why not?" the Irishman exclaimed, regard-
ing me as if he thought my senses had forsaken me.

I was silent for a time, while the fire roared
and the light of the candles flickered dully on the
tapestried walls. "If we get to horse to-morrow
morning and leave Verona behind us," I said,
"what will become of the Princess Giulia?"

iS I i'

y»

104 Sir John Hawkwood

He looked still blanker. " 'Tis mesilf is always
most keen on the ladies," he said, penitently, "y^^
for the moment I had forgot her entirely; 'twaa
you I was considering, not the Princess, God bless
her. Well, but what can you be after doing for her
if you stay? 'Twill be down with the pair of ye, no
less. I'm thinking you must just leave her to be
wedded to the Prince, hich is after all a fate many
a woman would envy "er."

"She fears him," I answered. "I could see it,
Michael, though she has a brave spirit and tries
hard to keep down her terror. Francesco Carrara
is her kinsman and claims her as his ward, and he
at least is a gentleman and a true prince, not a mur-
derer and plotter like Antonio. In his hands she
would be safe. If wt could get her to Padua and
give her over to the Duke "

"Aye, but that's just what we can't do. 'Tis mad
you are," cried O'Meara, with emphasis. "See now ;
I'll give you full a hundred reasons, excellent and
not to be answered, why there's naught but failure
in such an attempt "

"I lack patience to hear them," said I. "You are
right as to danger, but I shall try it whether or no.
My mind is made up." And so it was, though even
to me the enterprise appeared ridiculous. Why
should I risk my life to help a proud scornful girl
who had poured disdain on my head and treated
me like some lackey in disgrace? Yet I meant to

Sir John Hawkwood

105

fling myself into the worst danger of my life for
her sake.

"She'll not believe in your good intentions, nor
let you help her," cried O'Meara. "She's no twit-
tering shivering little fool to fly into hysterics at a
word of warning, let me tell you, but a most scorn-
ful, stubborn lady with a will and temper that I
might be venturing to call the divil's own were she
any less lovely than she is. She'll die shrieking
black hate at you before she'll trust you. 'Tis me-
silf has the keen eye to read women, and I've stud-
ied her particular, being some taken with her
looks."

"I shall help her without asking her leave," I an-
swered grimly. "Leave it to me. A man who has
won a hundred battles can conquer a girl and her
whims, more especially when his life hangs on the
issue."

"I'm thinking you know very little of the sex to
say that," O'Meara rejoined sagely. "Faith, and
I'd rather fight ten men than one woman; ye can
have some idea what a man may do, judging by
what you would do yourself in his stead ; but what-
ever you give a woman credit for, sure and she's
like to do just the opposite, for contrariness, no
less. And be the same token, if there's a thing in
all the world you would give the heart from your
body to keep her from doing, 'tis that thing and no
other she'll do, choosing it from a thousand things
you'd have fancied she'd like better. Ah, women

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Sir John Ilawkwood

are the divil, and that sweet little piece of perfec-
tion, Madonna Francesca, is the most maddening
of all the sex!"

I made no comment on his profound philosophy,
but returned to the subject under discussion. "Well,
Michael, and will you help me in this?' I asked.

" 'Tis the height of insanity !" he wailed, flinging
up his hands in despair.

"Very well," I answered, my scant patience ex-
hausted. "Since the business is so little to your
liking, I will carry it out alone. Do you stay here
in Verona, and when Antonio finds that you have
left me he will not do you any harm."

The roar of mingled grief and rage which he
emitted at this proposal might have been heard at the
palace. He burst into a frenzied appeal to heaven
to witness what he had done to deserve such a
speech, whether he had ever flinched from any dan-
ger in my service, if he were a coward and a pol-
troon and a double-faced villain that I should think
him likely to make peace with Antonio. When at
length I had pacified him, it seemed taken for
granted by both of us that the matter was settled,
and we refilled our cups in preparation for an ami-
cable conference as to details.

"And yet," O'Meara muttered, eyeing me curi-
ously, " 'tis amazed I am at you, no less. Niver did
I guess you were the man to throw yourself among
the lions for the rescue of a lady of whom you
knew nothing. With Antonio planning to clap you

Sir John Hawkwood

107

in prison, and Delia Torre and his she-divil of a
wife concocting nefarious schemes against you, 'tis
this girl you consider. Instead of riding hard and
fast for safety, you make nothing of your danger,
and think only of a gallant rescue for a haughty
lady who'll not thank us, like as not, for the trouble
we're taking. 'Tis a fit adventure for a Paladin, on
me soul, or a mad Irishman like mesilf — ^but no
thing for one like you, a man born in that grim
England. Sure and you must be taken most madly
by the lovely face of her. Is it that. Sir John
dear?"

I was leaning my elbows on the table and star-
ing at the fire. "There is another reason than
that," I answered, more to myself than to him.
"As you say, this is a strange business for my do-
ing, and I scarcely know myself what drives me to
it. But I think — ^yes, I think it is because I desire
to be friends again with the Black Prince."

I had not thought he would understand my
meaning, or I should not have spoken; but Irish-
men have keen wits. He kept silence a moment, not
looking at me. "Yes, yes ; I see," he muttered, and
though his head was turned away I saw that he had
tears in his eyes. "I see now. Sir John. And, be
Saint Patrick," he added, with sudden energy,
"we'll save her, or my name's not Michael
O'Meara! I'll stick by you through thick and thin,
and, impossible or not, we'll find a way to worst
that knave of a Delia Scala ! Brin go hragh, then,

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Sir John Hawkwood

Bay I — and a health to you, Sir John, a health to
you!"

We clasped hands impulsively across the table,
then looked ashamed of our emotion, and settled
back in our chairs *o consider how best to conduct
the perilous business to which we had pledged our-
selves.

If :•

CHAPTER VII

THE FIGHT IN THE INN.

"At the road-inn near the black wood," Delia
Torre had said to his wife when recounting Anton-
io's plot. It was here that Gianni Potrero and his
bravoes were to seize the Princess if all went as the
Prince and his abettors planned; and it was here
that O'Meara and myself alighted quietly in the
afternoon of the fated day, having ridden merrily
out of Verona with the rest of the hunting-party,
separated ourselves from the others on the first op-
portunity, and betaken ourselves hither by the
shortest route known to us.

We had sat until near dawn at the tavern, whis-
pering over our plans, looking suspiciously at those
near us to make sure we were not overheard ; and
in the end we had determined on a course of ac-
tion, reckless indeed, but by no means hopeless. It
was to be a case of diamond cut diamond, and the
success of the first act of our play hung on the
question whether Antonio's bully or I were the
more skilful bravo, whether my men or Potrero's
were the greater ruffians.

I had not slept at all, for at daybreak my work
began. As I had told O'Meara, there were no more

109

111

I'l

110 Sir John Hawkwood

than two-score of my soldiers in Verona — a small
number with which to attempt so perilous an en-
terprise. I had sent two trusty fellows to Flor-
ence, by different routes, with letters from me beg-
ging the Republic, for the sake of old times and my
great services, to send a strong troop of men to
my aid ; and I believed that they would comply, for
it was never the Florentine way to forget old al-
lies — beside which, they were no friends to Antonio
della Scala. Half-a-dozen of my men I had sent to
the deserted castle near Vincenza where Gianni Po-
trero and his troopers meant to take the Princess.
I knew this place well, having spent a night within
its walls more than once when on my way across
country with my company. Despite its deserted
condition it was a strong place, and I believed that
it could be well defended. My six ruffians had
taken heavy loads of provisions with which to
stock the larder, and were to tinker with the bridge
and see that the bolts and bars were firm; for it
was my intention, as it were, to seize Gianni's
thunder — that is, to wrest the Princess from him,
carry her to the very spot where he had planned to
take her, and defend the walls until the force from
Florence should arrive. Then I might send Ma-
donna Gir.lia across the Paduan lines with a strong
escort, and take myself oflf to Florence, to Pisa,
or any other spot where I might get good hire for
my sword. Wherever I might go my White Com-
pany could rejoin me, and we would renew our

Sir John Hawkwood

III

trade. Some may wonder why I did not send to
Lerino now for my troops, instead of writing to
distant Florence; but my reason was simple enough.
These mercenaries of mipe fought not for pleasure
but for gain, and in such an enterprise as this they
would have had small desire to help me. I looked
for trouble with the two-score men who were al
hand, and whose help I must have were I to suc-
ceed. At present they knew nothing of the aim of
the day's adventure, or the reason why I was pre-
paring the old castle for our coming; they believed
it all a part of some service I was doing at the
Prince's bidding. When they discovered that I
was carrying off Antonio's cousin in his very teeth,
they would be sullen enough, and might turn
against me. Well, I thought I could quell them. At
any rate, I would give no thought to that until the
time came.

It was a bright spring day, and the breezes and
sunshine raised my spirits and disposed me to re-
gard the undertaking very hopefully. After all,
win or lose, at least I was drawing sword for some-
thing other than gold, and was risking my life in a
cause that Prince Edward and Sir John Chandos
would have held worthy of me. As O'Meara and I
galloped through the flowering fields and fragrant
woods I found myself singing as merrily as a boy.
The Irishman, for his part, was in the seventh
heaven of bliss at the near prospect of fighting, a
diversion dearer to him than any other thing on

I! I

112

Sir John Hawkwood

earth. It was in the highest of spirits that we
came in sight of the rude little inn, and saw some
hundred paces away from it the thick-growing,
dense little grove known as the black wood.

"We will go there first," I said to O'Meara, "and
fiiKl out whether all is as I ordered." And, striking
spurs to our horses, we galloped quickly over the
soft meadow into the grove.

From a distance of ten feet the sharpest eyes
could have perceived no sign of life, but on forc-
ing our way in among the close-growing trees we
found ourselves in the midst of a small force, made
up of the thirty men with whose help I meant to
free Madonna GiuHa. They were, I must admit,
a villainous-looking set of knaves, not the kind of
gentry among whom a man of tiu ' disposition
would have cared to find himself in ..lose days of
the strong hand. Some were clad in ragged cloaks
and dented armor, others had profited by forays
and were tricked out in bedraggled finery and hats
with stained drooping plumes. The faces of all
were seamed with scars that failed to improve fea-
tures which even without them would have been
unprepossessing in the extreme; one fellow had a
stump of flesh in place of an ear, another lacked
three fingers. These were the pick of the White
Company for skill and wild courage, and also, it
must be admitted, for lawlessness and brutality, as
might be guessed from the far from reassuring
look in their eyes. There were Englishmen among

Sir John Hawkwood

them, Frenchmen, Italians, fellows from the Low
Countries. Some two or three boasted gentle blood,
and these, in their fall, were perhaps of worse
metal than the others. All had been through such
scenes of raiding and pillaging and slaughter as had
left them callous and inhuman, but all were excel-
lent fighters, of a sort that might well wrest vic-
tory from the teeth of death.

"You are here, then — good!" I said, pulling up
my horse. "Were you observed by anyone as you
came?"

"Not we, Sir John," answered the fellow in com-
mand, a rogue with a horribly scarred face, who
had first seen the light of day in Paris, but had
wandered through so many countries that he had
wellnigh forgotten which was the land of his birth.
"We came as quietly as mice, and settled ourselves
snugly here to wait till you should need us. And
we came none too soon; an hour ago Gianni Po-
trero rode up with his men, and they are now
drinking yonder in the inn. Is it with them we
are to fight, Sir John? I had thought he was a
friend of the Prince, even as we are — "

"You think too much, and talk too much," I in-
terrupted curtly. "Remember that I am captain
of this company, and do my bidding without ques-
tion, or you will get into trouble. Now, you will
remain here till I sound my whistle yonder at the
inn ; then charge as you never charged before, throw
down as many of Potrero's men as you may, and be

114

Sir John Hawkwood

III

■H

prepared to riae off again in haste. Have you got
this by heart ? Good — I have no more time to lose,
but must get on to the scene of battle."

Jacques scowled slightly, but gave back and asked
no more questions, and I wheeled my horse with the
certainty that my orders would be obeyed — which,
dmost certainly, they would not have been had I
given a detailed explanation of my aims and inten-
tions. O'Meara and I left the wood, struck spurs
to our mounts, and did not draw rein until we
reached the inn.

The tumult inside was deafening. Apparently the
troopers were passing the time of their long wait
over the cups, and had reached a condition of great
hilarity. We caught snatches of song, the rattle of
dice, and the din of laughter. O'Meara and I
tethered our horses at the door and were about to
enter when a great swaggering figure lurched into
the doorway, aiid a loud drunken voice hailed us in
insolent accents.

"No room here, messers," cried the apparition,
swaying tipsily from side to side. "This inn is full
to-day. We are on the Prince's business, and want
no audience. Ride on up the road, and in an hour's
time you will find another stopping-place — ^but do
not try to enter here, or ill will come of it." His
speech broke into a hiccough.

It was one of Gianni Potrero's men, a black-vis-
ored fierce giant whom I had seen many times in Ve-
rona, and of whom I knew no good. At the uproar

Sir John Hawkwood

IIS

he made a dozen of his comrades come crowding
into the doorway and emphasized his words with
shouts and gestures. As for me, I knew better than
to hesitate while deahng with such gentry. Setting
my hat rakishly on one side and adopting an air as
fierce and ruffling as their own, I advanced quickly
to the door.

"Ill will come of it, did you say?" I roared at
the spokesman. "You are right— but the ill will
come to you if you dare stand in my path!" With
this I seized the ruffian by the neck, buffetted him
across the face, and flung him sprawling out on the
ground. Then, before his comrades had recovered
from their amazement, O'Meara and I had forced
a way into the inn, pushing and elbowing and tread-
ing on the toes of all who barred our path.

The great room within was full of roystering
troopers. For a moment, so numerous did they ap-
pedr, I wondered if my knaves would have any
chance against them when the pinch came ; but in a
moment I saw that the din they made caused the
number to appear far greater than it was, and that
in fact there were no more than twenty men in the
room. When I sounded my whistle I would have
the advantage by ten. This cheered me, and I
turned a composed smile on the crowd that came
cursing round me, and on Gianni Potrero himself,
who leapt up from a table by the window and came
striding forward to see who dared intrude.

We were old enemies, this man and I, for he

ii6

Sir John Hawkwood

I' ''
1 1

'fs!

had long envied me the Prince's favor, and I had
never hidden my contempt for him. Heaven knows
my own profession was no exalted one, but still it
was better than his, for I led out my men only in
fair fight, whereas his troop got their living by mur-
der, black secret work such as they were bent on to-
day, and all manner of knavery more fitted to cut-
throat bravos than to soldiers. A ruler like Antonio
della Scala had need of those who would do his
bidding without question in various matters not fit
for public knowledge, and certainly he could have
found no better helpers than this band of midnight
stabbers under their Arorthy leader. Gianni himself
was a giant, hard u.id merciless as flint, with a vil-
lainous face burnt well-nigh black from exposure
and covered with great scars.

"Who dares come in here when halted in the
Prince's name?" he thundered as he advanced.
"Whoever you may be, my fine gentlemen, I'll have
you lashed away with the stirrup-leathers to teach
you respect for Delia Scala ! Come here, let me have
a look at you !" He ended his speech with a torrent
of oaths, which ceased abruptly as he recognized
me. "Sir John Hawkwood!" he muttered, and
scowled in a fashion which I took to mean that he
would have found an additional zest in carrying out
his threat, now that he knew the name of the in-
truder.

"Yes, Sir John Hawkwood," I said fiercely, fac-
ing him down. "And what of it ? On my soul, my

Sir John Hawk wood

117

good friend, you and your men are rather too in-
solent to please me ! Since when have you possessed
the right to bar my way when I enter a pubHc inn ?
Have you gone mad? Unless you come quickly to
your senses I will take means to sober you," and I
laid my hand threateningly on my sword-hilt.

He gave back a step, scowling blackly on me. For
a moment I saw his eyes roam about among his men,
and it came home to me with unpleasant clearness
that O'Meara and I were but two to twenty. "What
business have you here?" he growled, apparently
undecided what course to pursue. "We are on
the Prince's affairs, and want this inn to our-
selves."

"Then you want what you will not get!" I re-
torted curtly. "Do you think that you are the only
man in Verona who rides on Prince Antonio's busi-
ness? Am I not in his service, too, and far higher
in it than yourself? How can you tell that he has
not sent me here to learn whether you do the busi-
ness to his liking?"

His scowl deepened, but he looked shaken. It was
gall to his soul to think that Antonio could have sent
me on such an errand, yet, since I had enjoyed the
royal favor for so long, he could not deny that the
thing seemed possible enough. "And did he send
you?" he snarled,at length.

"That, if you will pardon me," I retorted coolly,
"is what I have no intention at all of telling you. I
am not one to give account of my comings and go-

ii8 Sir John Hawkwood

ings, Messer Gianni. Yes, look as black as you
please, finger your sword, bite your lip till the blood
comes ! You will learn nothing from me save this —
that I am here on my own business, that I intend
to remain here as long as it may please me, and that
if you meddle with me it will be the maddest act of
all your life." With this benediction I turned my
back on him, sat down at a table near the window,
and, appropriating a flask of wine that siood there-
on, filled two cups for the refreshment of O'Meara
and myself.

He lingered, regarding me with an expression of
baffled rage. I was his better at sword-play, but
with many evil qualities Gianni Potrero was no cow-
ard, .1 had we stood man to man I do not doubt
that he would then and there have flown at my
throat. But between us stood the shadow of Prince
Antonio, a ruler who never forgave those who blun-
dered or meddled with his will. I had been high in
his favor for months past, and he had shown me
such graciousness as he gave to few. Alas, poor
Gianni could not know that all this was now over,
and that the Prince, once my indulgent friend, was
become my bitter enemy, nursing plans for my im-
mediate disgrace. And I thanked Heaven that he
could not know it, for otherwise he and his troop-
ers would have made short work of me before the
whistle at my neck could have called my men to my
assistance. As it was, he stood glowering at me
for a moment in indecision ; then, as I took no no-

it.

Sir John Hawk wood

119

tice of him, he shrugged his shoulders with a black
look.

"Have your way, then," he muttered, "But I
warn you not to meddle with what I am to do here,
unless you want trouble with the Prince. If I
thought you came here without his bidding I would
send you off in short order! Wait till we are both
back in Verona, Sir John, and I'll teach you to treat
me with more respect!"

"When you please," I answered, turning my head
to laugh contemptuously at him. "I will serve you
such a trick as I served my Lord Raimondo yester-
day, and all Verona will laugh at your expense. For
the present, leave me in peace. I have no love for
that ruffian's face of yours, Messer Gianni, and
had rather you bestowed it elsewhere."

He turned on his heel with an oath and a muttered
promise to mar my face into a worse condition than
his at some not distant day, and seated himself at the
next table, where he proceeded to watch me narrow-
ly. I took no notice of him, but began to drink and
jest with O Meara. The Irishman, who was always
particularly bland in moments of danger, produced
cards from his pouch, and we began to play, push-
ing a steadily growing pile of gold back and forth
across the table as the luck ran for us or against.
Potrero regarded us steadily, his men stared at us,
shook their fists furtively, and muttered profane
comments on our presence. Perhaps an hour went
by in this fashion, and I saw that Potrero was be-

'il

f. ■

120

Sir John Hawkwood

ginning to forget us in the anticipation of the Prin-
cess* coming.

" 'Tis as nervous as any ould cat he is," O'Meara
whispered, raking in his gains. "I'm thinking she'll
soon be here. Begorra, and I'd give my soul to kill
that knave of a Potrero in the beautiful melee we are
shortly going to have — I could never abide him, and
my antipathy's growing steady-like every mini'.te I
sit here and watch him glower. I'm confident I
could worst him in a fair fight — Hark, Sir John! did
ye not hear something then?"

I heard the sound of hoofs, very faint at first,
then growing louder. In a moment the troopers
heard it, too, and leapt up with a shout. Potrero
strode about among them in a fury, silencing them
with blows and curses. "To your tables, all of you,"
he stormed. "No man is to take notice of the party
or to make a move against the Princess till I give
the signal. We are not to appear to expect them —
she is not to suspect that my Lord Ranucio and
Madonna Violante have any hand in the business;
it is to appear that we form the plan on seeing her
in our power." He drove them into their seats,
resumed his own, and waited, tense in every
limb.

The clatter of hoofs came closer, and now, look-
ing from the window, I could see the party ap-
proaching. In a moment Delia Torre had pulled up
his horse before the inn, and was speaking back
across his shoulder to those behind. He looked mag-

Sir John Hawkwood

121

nificently handsome in his hunting-habit of gold and
scarlet, a plumed hat shading his face and a hooded
hawk clinging to his wrist; but he looked darkly
angry as well, and I suspected at once that all had
not gone to his liking. In another instant i under-
stood. The rest of the party had come up, and I saw
not only the splendid haughty Madonna Violante
and the slim figure of the Princess, but also Ma-
donna Francesca, and a fat, pompous gentleman in
gold and green, who was, if my eyes did not deceive
me, no other than Raimondo del Mayno. In a flash
I understood that the favorite had only partially suc-
ceeded in his plan ; he had separated Madonna Giulia
from the hunting-party, as had been agreed, and
had brought her safe to the inn ; but in some fashion
Francesca and Del Mayno had contrived to remain
with them.

What was said outside I could not hear, but from
Delia Torre's gestures I gathered that he was urg-
ing them to enter the inn for rest and refreshment
before proceeding on their way. All except the
Princess appeared willing enough, and Del Mayno,
who had no doubt reached an age when 3 day in
the saddle was more wearying than agreeable, plain-
ly assented to the proposition with enthusiasm. For
a time they all clustered around Madonna Giulia,
urging her, and at length she nodded her head
slightly and prepared to dismount. A moment later
they were at the door of the inn.

*"Tis my pretty Francesca, bless her heart,"

122 Sir John Ilawkwood

O'Meara whispered, and I trod savagely on his foot
as a hint for silence.

At the tlireshold they paused, and the Princess,
who was in advance, threw a startled look about at
the crowd of black-faced troopers. "The place is
full," she said across her shoulder to Delia Torre.
"Let us go on. I have no mind to sit among a band
of soldiers."

"Stay but a few moments, Princess," Violante
urged. "Indeed, I can go no further now — I am
faint with the sun and lack of food. These are but
a troop of the Prince's men, riding somewhere on
his business; we have nothing to fear from them."

"I am not afraid," said the Princess, coldly. The
word had been a shrewd one, for it sent her forward
at once into tl.v. inn Delia Torre followed her
closely, shouting to the troopers to make room for
their betters, and bidding the host, whose fright-
ened face peered through the kitchen-door, to bring
out his best food and wine. The party sat down at
a table midway between Gianni Potrero and myself.
I had pulled my hat down low about my eyes, and
since O'Meara had followed my example we ap-
peared in no way different from the men around us.
It was plain on the instant that the spirit of dis-
cord ruled among the party. The Princess, a charm-
ing figure in her green habit laced with silver,
seemed the most out of sorts of them all ; her dark
eyes shone angrily through the slits of her riding-
mask, and she carried her head in the stiff fashion

Sir John Hawkwood

123

of one who wished to blazon forth her displeasure
to all the world. Francesca, close beside her, looked
uneasy and suspicious; Violante was making great
pretense at faintness, though the color in her cheeks
was tolerably bright; Delia Torre was nervously
alert, and Del Mayno was plainly more absorbed in
the longing for meat and wine than in any interest
in his companions.

"You have played the fool very prettily to-day,
my lord," the Princess said indignantly to Delia
Torre, after a strained pause. "I thought it very
kind of you when you asked me if I were not weary
and would not prefer to let you guide me back to
Verona by a shorter road. Had I guessed that you
would lose your way and keep us wandering for
hours, and in the end bring us to such a place as
this, I think I should not have accepted your kind
offer. Hush, child," she added, pulling away from
Francesca, who had whispered in her ear, "I will
speak my mind. Does he think I am to be dragged
all over my cousin's lands to suit his pleasure?"

"Forgive me. Princess," Delia Torre urged. "You
are right, I have played the fool, but even yet 1 can-
not tell how we missed the road "

There was a stir and a movement. Half the
troopers were going out quietly, and I guessed their
aim — to bring the horses to the door. Giulia stared
haughtily at them as they passed her, and drew away
the hem of her habit. "A rare company you have
brought me among," she said angrily.

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"Why, Princess," Violante murmured, with some
malice in her slow smile, "are you so dainty that
the mere passing of these fellows hurts you?"

Giulia gave her a straight glance that held both
suspicion and anger. "Be patient with me. Remem-
ber that, not having been born like you to a lower
rank, I know nothing of such men," she answered,
and the favorite's wife bit her lip.

I heard a subdued noise without — the horses were
being brought around. Potrero heard it, too, and
grew tense and ready. At this instant the host ap-
proached Delia Torre's table with wine and meat,
and Del Mayno raised his voice in thanksgiving.
"Come, niece, patience," he cried. "Eat and drink —
all will seem brighter to you within the hour, I'll
warrant." So saying, he began to heap her plate with
food. Gianni Potrero was starting to rise from his
seat, and on the instant I raised my whistle to my
lips, bent far out of the window, and blew it loudly.

The sudden noise startled all the room, Potrero
most of all. For a moment he hung undecided,
staring about him, and then pulled out his sword
and sprang forward with a cry. But O'Meara, too,
had risen and leapt forward, and the two came to-
gether with a crash in the centre of the room.

"Now a thousand curses on ye, where is it you're
going, anyway?" roared O'Meara, in such a real-
istic pretense at rage as only an Irishman could have
given. "Is it eyeless you are, that you tread on my
toes in this most discourteous manner ? Not from a

Sir John Hawkwood 125

king would I take as much, let alone a marauding
scut like yourself! Me advancing slow and peace-
able-like on me own affairs, and you careening
against me like a bolt from heaven— or likelier the
other place "

The diversion had caused the troopers to halt
open-mouthed for a moment — and that moment was
what we had needed desperately. I had got my
sword free and leapt to the side of the Princess, and
Delia Torre gave back after a brief pretense at
resistance, not recognizing me, and taking me, nat-
urally enough, for one of Potrero's troopers. Then,
even as O'Meara sprang back to join me, I heard the
clatter of hoofs, cries of fright from the men
without, and the shouts of my own ruffians as they
flung themselves from their horses and came into
the inn with swords already bloody from the brief
conflict outside.

The Princess had sprung to her feet. She was
tense in every limb, but made no sign of fright.
Francesca clung to her moaning with terror, and
putting her hands across her eyes to shut out the
evil faces all about her. As for me, I shouted fu-
riously to my men to stand between me and Potrero
and keep a clear path to the door, and they obeyed
me. There was a wild clashing of swords, a circling
and parrying, a fight hand to hand. I had the ad-
vantage in numbers, and my men were the more
skilful; but all my thoughts were fixed on getting
quickly away before the tide of battle turned.

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I caught the Princess up, put my left arm around
her, and took my sword in my free hand. She
fought me furiously, but without making any out-
cry. Francesca clung to her desperately until
O'Meara, comi^- up, caught her and raise I her in
his arms, she screaming and scratching the while
like a madwoman. "Close around us, keep the
others off us," I cried to my men, and as they obeyed
me I ran from the inn and found the horses waiting

at the door.

It had all taken place so quickly that Potrero's
men were utterly dazed, some of them taking us for
a reinforcement, others screaming that the Paduans
were on them, and the remainder, taken unprepared,
giving back in bewilderment. Delia Torre had not
yet discovered that anything was wrong, and be-
lieved us all to be members of the party chosen
for the Princess' capture. Violante had fallen for-
ward in a pretended swoon; but to my amazement
old Del Mayno had kept close beside his niece, and
'.vas at my elbow as I reached the door. He seemed
dazed, and made no effort to draw his sword, so it
was a mystery to me why he should thrust himself
in among us. I suppose that since for many years
now he had enjoyed great honor by virtue of being
the Princess' uncle, it had become second nature
with him to follow her wherever she might go, and
such was his impulse even at a wild moment like

this.

Potrero was shrieking to his men to rally and

Sir John Hawkwood

cut us off. They began to draw together, and pres-
ently surged forward ; but now we had reached the
horses and were mounting. A dozen of my men
wheeled about, in obedience to my order, and
barred the door of the inn till we were in the sad-
dle, then surged out to mount themselves. Del
Mayno had clambered clumsily on a riderless horse
and was striving desperately to keep beside m- and
my burden. The sight made me laugh.

As I put spurs to my gcod mount Potrero and his
men burst out of the inn, raging and cursing. Af-
ter them came Delia Torre, with the bewildered look
of one who begins to perceive that all is not right,
"Farewell, my Lord Ranucio," I cried, waving my
sword at him. "Tell the Prince his plot has failed.
He must sharpen his wits if he wishes to try a throw
with me!"

"A thousand curses!" cried the favorite, his face
black with fury. "It is Sir John Hawkwood!"

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CHAPTER VIII

CASTEIv PAURA

For some time I was too mi :h occupied i .1 put-
ting the greatest possible spac.. bf^tween ourselves
and 01 r foes to give any attention to the lady in my
arms. She had ceased her struggling as soon as I
got to saddle, thus displaying, it struck me, an
amount of common-sense hardly to be expected in a
woman — for had she continued to fight for freedom
she might easily enough have fallen from my rac-
ing horse and come to serious Iiarm. We fairly
flew across tiie country, crossing mecdows and hills
and woods as though our mounts had wings to their
feet , but we went none too fast for my taste, and I
was angry enough when at length I ?aw some among
my troopers give signs of slackening speed.

"What are you about there?" I cried, and cursed
them furio;isly. "Do you think I wished to be over-
taken by Gianni and his men? Is this a pleasure-
party, that you dally here and linger there? Set
spurs to your horses, I say, and ride like men, not
weary girls — or when we reach the castle I will
have a word to say to the loiterers !"

"Faith, never worry over Gianni Potrero and his
men, Sir John," cried a knave with a Flemish ao-

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Sir John Hawkwood 129

cent, spurring up to my side. "Tliey will not be like
to pursue us for many a good hour — I have seen
to that!"

"And how, fool? Are you a sorcerer, then?" I
asked impatiently.

"Nay, God forbid," said he, and crossed himself;
for the worst of my men showed remains of reli-
gion at unexpected times. "But one need not be a
sorcerer to understand horses, Sir John. I was
wearied lying in the wood yonder waiting for your
whistle to blow, and so was Franz here ; and to pass
the time we crept up unseen to the inn stable, and
so doctored all Messer Giaimi's steeds that they will
carry their masters very little distance either to-day
or to-morrow. So, you see, there is no need that
we should kill ourselves with hard riding."

"You are a shrewd fellow, Pierre," I cried, "and
you shall not lose by this business, be sure of that.
Nevertheless, we will not slacken speed. I shall
feel more at ease when I have a castle wall about
me.

Somewhat reassured by this new development, I
now took time to glance down at the Princess, whose
continued stillness had amazed me. No wonder she
was limp and motionless, however; for, as I now
discovered, she was in a dead swoon.

The sight shocked me unreason- . v I had seen
many and many a man lose his senses, yes, and die,
sometimes in horrible suflfering, but this was the
first time I had held a fainting woman in my arms.

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Sir John Hawkwood

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After all, I assured myself, there was no cause for
alarm — she had swooned for terror, and would
come to herself none the worse for it. Perhaps, in-
deed, it was better so, fOi in her right senses she
would have made my task doubly hard. It was
natural, too. In all her sheltered luxurious life she
had known no danger, and this sudden attack of
a crowd of villainous-faced troopers had proved too
much for her, although up to the very instant when
her consciousness failed she had met the danger
bravely and struggled against me like any seasoned
soldier. It gave me an absurd pleasure to remem-
ber that she had made no moan or outcry. She was
a woman, but she had the spirit of a brave man.

I looked down at her as slie lay limp in my clasp,
and a sudden wave of pity came over me, blotting
out all else, making me forget the free lances around
me as completely as if she and I had the whole
world to ourselves. How young she was, though
they called her Princess and bent before her and
flattered her! Shi was scarcely more than a child,
and would have been a surpassingly sweet one but
for the pride of place that had been taught her from
her birth. I could see her white eyelids through
the slits in her mask; her red mouth was bare, and
her chin; both looked very soft and innocent. Her
head rested on my shoulder as confidingly as if she
knew and trusted me instead of hating and despising
me. Its light weight seemed to burn me, and I
thought how pure and beautiful she was, and that

Sir John ivvkwood

131

I was utterly unworthy to touch her. I v/as glad that
I had undertaken to save her from Antonio della
Scala. Even if I lost my life in the attempt, what
did it matter to any on earth whether I lived or
died? While she —

Madonna Francesca was still in O'Meara's care.
She was in a sad state, torn between terror of us
who had seized her and carried her off, and fear of
a fall from the racing horse beneath her. The latter
dread proved the stronger, and she was clinging to
O'Meara as if he were her one hope of salvation,
tightening her clasp convulsively each time his
mount swerved or shied, gasping, sobbing, giving
vent to desperate lamentations and prophecies of her
fast approaching doom. The Irishman was far more
concerned and distressed than he would have been
at the prospect of a deadly conflict with Gianni
Potrero's men, and was making superhuman ef-
forts to soothe and reassure her. He poured out
protestations that no harm was intended, that she
was as safe as in the Prince's palace at Verona;
he declared that soon she should rest and revive
herself, and implored her in the tenderest manner to
trust to him and have no fear of anything. He
might have spared his breath to better advantage.
She heard nothing and saw nothing ; all her faculties
were concentrated on keeping a firm hold around his
neck and escaping from being hurled to earth. As
for O'Meara, despite his distress in her behalf, I
think he found a hint of pleasure in the situation, for

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132 Sir John Hawkwood

I distinctly noted an expression of sliame-faced rap-
ture overspread las face each time her arms tight-
ened convulsively about him.

It was dark when we neared the end of our jour-
ney, and, riding quickly through a dark-green wood,
came on a tiny hill in its midst, crowned by the
deserted place known as Castel Paura. It had been
a noble stronghold once, and had still the grim low-
ering air of the defiant fortress. I breathed a prayer
that my knaves had prepared food and fire for our
coming, for the niglit air was cold, and we were one
and all in need of comfort. As we approached I sound-
ed the horn that hung about my neck, and immedi-
ately lights shone out at the windows and a hoarse
cry of welcome was raised by the men within. We
were at the dark moat now, and a tottering unsteady
drawbridge was being lowered to give us entrance.
Riding across it in imminent danger of being dashed
down to perdition, we passed under the portcullis
and into the outer court, wiiere tiie men I had sent
in advance came crowding round with lighted
torches.

"Have you done as I bade, and prepared the
place for our holding?" I demanded. "You have
patched the drawbridge up, I see; good. What of
the walls? They are broken in parts, but are they
so far gone we cannot man them."

"Oh, we have made a brave stand in worse places
than this. Sir John," one of them answered cheer-
fully, then paused open-mouthed and stared at the

Sir John Hawkwood 133

Princess' figure huddled in my arms. None of them
had gathered the aim of my enterprise as yet, and,
to speak truth, I looked forward with no great an-
ticipation to the moment when light should break
in on them.

"Well, why do you stand there staring like a
fool?" I demanded sharply. "Have you kindled a
fire and prepared supper for us? Lead on to the
hall, and let me see how you have spent your time.
Heaven send, for your own sakes, that you have not
wasted it, for I am in no very easy humor to-night.
What, have you never seen a woman before, that
your eyes must pop from your head at sight of a
mask and a riding-cloak?"

They drew back in a circle, cowed by my rough-
ness, and we rode through to an inner court, where
we dismounted. Bearing the Princess in my arms,
I strode up a flight of stone steps and passed through
a carved doorway into the great hall of the castle.

At a former time, when hung with brocades and
set forth with costly furniture, this apartment must
have been a magnificent one. Now the walls were
bare, the floor crumbling, and the ceiling cracked
and hung with a thousand cobwebs. The great size
of the place made it the more dreary ; it seemed like
a deserted banquet-chamber, a haunt where ghosts
might come at midnight to hold their revels. Never-
theless, the presence of my men had already driven
away a part of the gloom. A great fire blazed cheer-
fully in the wide chimnev, scattered cloaks and

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134 Sir John Hawkwood

weapons lent an air of habitation to floor and walls,
and meat roasting above the flames sent forth an
odor far from displeasing to one as hungry as my-
self.

I strode across the room to a broken wood settle
that stood beneath the window, laid the Princess
upon it, and dropping on my knees beside her began
to chafe her hands. She lay motionless, not stir-
ring, not seeming to breathe. Aly mercenaries came
crowding into the hall after me, and stood herded at
a distance, staring at me with round eyes. I had
no name among them as a lover of women, and they
were surprised enough to see me bringing back two
ladies in my train.

"Where did he get her, eh?" one demanded of
another. "Who is she, and why has he brought her
here?"

Pierre shrugged his shoulders. "She is the Prin-
cess Giulia, Delia Scala's cousin," he answered. "We
carried her ofif from the inn near the black wood.
Gianni Potrero was there for the same purpose, but
we worsted him and got the prize. Tliat is her lady-
in-waiting that Messer O'Meara is just bringing in.
As for the why and the wherefore of the business,
I know no more about it than a babe unborn."

Jacques joined them, looking sour and dissatis-
fied. "This aflFair is not to my taste," I heard him
mutter. "See you, if we carry off the Prince's
cousin we are surely no longer in the Prince's serv-
ice — is not that common-sense? Well, and if we are

Sir John Hawkwood

135

against him, how is this to profit us, tell me that?
We shall run great danger, and gain nothing. What
docs it mean ?"

"I do not know, and, what is more, I have no
mind to ask Sir John!" Pierre answered with a
grin. "You had best leave him alone, too, if you
value a whole skin. For my part, I will trust him
and ask no questions, even if he leads us straiglit
on the city of Verona. He has never yet under-
taken an enterprise that proved unlucky for us, nor
will he now. He has a better head than any of
us, else why should we serve under him as we do?"

Francesca had come in, still clinging to O'Meara.
Poor child, the deserted place and the evil scarred
faces turned on her in the torchlight made her be-
lieve herself in a bad dream, and she looked in-
stinctively for protection to the Irishman, the only
one of us all whom she knew. As yet she had not
seemed to realize his share in her misfortunes,
though no doubt she would visit this on him heavily
later on. The sight of Giulia took her mind from
her own selfish fears, and she ran forward with a
little cry, falling on her knees beside me and catch-
ing her friend's hands.

I rose to my feet and looked about the room.
Never before had I known what ruffians my troop-
ers appeared. It filled me with anger that they
should gaze on the Princess in her swoon, and the
thought of her terror should she wake to find them
all about her struck me like a blow. "Have you got

136

Sir John Hawkwood

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nothing better to do than stand there gaping?" 1
asked roughly. "You have left the bridge down,
I'll be bound, and tlie portcullis up! Pretty soldiers
you! Begone and see the castle is secure — or stop;
is any room but this heated by a fire and in a state
to be oc ;upied ?"

One of the men stammered that he had kindled
a fire in the room oflF the upper gallery, and had
prepared it as well as he might for my housing.

"Good!" I answered, and raising the Princess in
my arms I ran up the great staircase of carved stone,
through a wide fretted gallery that rang hollow and
empty to my tread, and into a room hung with
faded tapestry falling to pieces for decay. A broken
couch stood near the fire, and on this I gently placed
the Princess. Francesca had followed me closely,
and now knelt by her lady and began to remove her
mask and cloak, quite forgetful of her terror the
instant another needed her aid, like the true woman
she was.

"We'd best be leaving them alone," O'Meara said
to me from the doorway.

I nodded. "Do you stay here and see that none of
the men come meddling," I answered, as I swung
round on my heel and went down the stairs to the
great hall.

The shouts of rude glee that came to my ears as
I descended warned me that the knaves had found
some pleasant mode of diversion. I was ready for
anything as I joined them, but so completely had

Sir John Ilawkwood 137

Raimondo del Mayno passed from my mind in the
hurry of the flight that I felt a shock of amazement
as I saw his pompous figure in the midst of a crowd
of my troopers.

He had ridden with us all the way from the inn —
no easy jaunt for a man of his years and size. Since
he had mounted one of my horses and started the
journey beside me, my men had fancied him a part
of the capture, and had kept close about him, cut-
ting off all chance of escape even had sober reflec-
tion led him to attempt flight. I think that at first
the wild rush and the hard riding had dazed him;
and now, finding himself pulled from his horse and
thrust none too gently into a ruined castle which his
high-strung nerves immediately colored as a fitting
spot for a murder, it was small wonder if his heart
failed him. His fat face was very pale above the
splendor of his green and gold hunting-dress, and
he wavered somewhat on his feet, partly from stiff-
ness, but more from alarm. Nevertheless it had ap-
parently occurred to him that his best hope was in a
show of boldness, and he was trying to address my
men in the imperious hectoring fashion he used in
Verona — a course of action not likely to impress
them.

"Where is the Princess? What have you done
with my niece, you villains?" he cried furiously, but
with a quaver in his voice. "Are you mad to seize
upon us and bring us here? Speak, I say, tell me
the meaning of all this! Do you thiiik to hold us

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Sir John Hawkwood

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for ransom? Then let me tell you that this is the
most foolish act of all your lives, for we are kin
to Prince Antonio, and he will not pay you in golden
coins, but in hempen cord. Oh, he will hang you
high, never doubt it, and so avenge this unheard-of
outrage! Take counsel, let us go at once, and per-
haps we will spare you "

My men were in an ecstacy of amusement. They
louted low before him, with exaggerated gestures
of respect that would not have tricked a child ; they
begged him in broken voices to spare them, to plead
with Prince Antonio for them, to have mercy on a
set of poor but honest rogues who were his humble
servants. They dried mock tears with the backs of
their hands, and fell sobbing on each others' breasts.
Some carried the jest so far as to kneel with clasped
hands raised in fervent appeals for grace. My lord,
growing paler and paler, stared at them round-eyed,
as if doubting his own sanity. "Come, brothers,
we dare not keep him prisoner, we must let him go,"
one cried, in a paroxysm of feigned terror. They
surged apart and left an open way to the door, and
Del Mayno, a gleam of hope lighting up his face,
darted forward. Instantly they surged in upon him
again with a hoarse battle-cry that made him yelp
wildly for fright. It was boisterous horse-play, to
be sure, but it was side-splitting, and I stood on
the lowest stair laughing till the tears filled my
eyes.

"Come, my friends," I said at last, striding for-

Sir John Hawkwood

139

ward, "by your leave I will have a word with this
grand gentleman." The circle gave back before me,
and I found myself face to face with my lord, who
straightened himself and made a brave cflfort to
awe me with his royal manner.

"Do yc • command here, then?" he demanded
haughtily. "You will do well to end this outrage
and let us go, for if the Prince "

He started and paused as I thrust my hat back
from my eyes, for until this instant he had not rec-
ognized me. The expression on his fat face was
ludicrous — all its pretense at grandeur fell away,
and his anger merged into a horror so intense that
I stood helpless, rocking from side to side with
laughter. Even it seemed to me that his gray
hair stood more upright in his dismay, that his
round eyes turned to starting bits of blue glass. It
was a strange figure and one far from princely-
looking that I confronted now.

"Ah, I see you know me," I said, when I could
get my breath. "I am your old friend Giovanni della
Guglia, and see, I have brought my needle with me.
Shall I give you another such dancing-lesson as I
gave yesterday in the Prince's loggia? Alas, I fear
your legs are still sore from my pricks, though I
treated you with all gentleness. Why, one might
think you were not pleased to see me. You have
not a cordial manner, my good lord."

He gasped and retreated from me wildly, then
made a last clutch at his vanished dignity. "Sir

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John Hawkwood," he bleated, somewhat in the
fashion of a frightened sheep, "what does this
mean? Why have you brought us here?"

"My good friend," I answered bluntly, "I have
not brought you here, nor do I mean that you shall
stay here. You chose to get to horse and follow us
— that is your afifair, not mine; if you fancy a long
ride I have nothing to say. But we are like to have
to stand a siege in this place, and our provisions
are none too plentiful, so you can understand that
I have no desire for an extra mouth within the gate.
I fancy you eat very heartil), is it not so? Your
girth hints as much. Well, you cannot eat here. Go
out and mount your horse, and make your way back
to Verona. You shall be my ambassador to the
Prince — tell him that Gianni Potrero is a fool, and
that he will do well to find a soldier with better wits
to carry out his plots and plans."

Del Mayno stared at me in dismay. "You will
send me away now, at night, without food?' he
stammered.

"Surely," said I. "We are not your stewards, my
lord. Besides, I thought it was your greatest desire
a moment since to leave us."

He stamped his foot in a weak fury. "I will not
go and leave my niece in your hands !" he stormed.
"I will stay here; you cannot force me away."

"You will not go?" I repeated grimly. And for
a full moment I stared at him, while his courage
oozed visibly under my eyes. "Well, 'it is all the

Sir John Hawkwood

141

same to me. I will get rid of you in another way,
then. Pierre — Franz!"

The two stepped forward promptly. They were
as evil-looking a pair as any men on earth, and Del
Mayno shrank away from tliem with a grunt of
horror.

"Take this old fool up on the battlements," I
said coolly, "and set him to dangle by the neck."

Franz and Pierre caught Lord Raimondo prompt-
ly by the arms, exchanging winks of amusement
across his head. He cried out wildly, but they paid
no heed at all, and dragged him to the door amid
the cheering and laughter of the others. His cour-
age gave way utterly, and he fell forward on his
knees.

"No, no, not that!" he roared piteously. "Spare
me. Sir John Hawkwood — let me go, and I will ride
back to Verona this very night and take your mes-
sage to the Prince !"

"Very good, I will be merciful, though I stand
amazed at my own patience," I answered sternly,
repressing my laughter. "Take him across the moat
instead of to the battlements, you, and give him his
horse, and see him started. God-speed, my lord, and
remember Giovanni della Guglia in your prayers !"

He was now only too eager to be gone. The two
troopers led him out, none too gently, and presently
their footsteps died away in the outer court. I
turned back into the hall. My men were roaring with
laughter at the comedy, but my mirth had passed,

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142

Sir John Hawkwood

leaving a sick disgust and contempt behind. He was
a poor creature, this noble of Verona — in his an-
guish for his own safety he had forgotten his niece
as completely as if she did not exist.

A hand fell lightly on my shoulder, and I turned
to face O'Meara. He was looking at me strangely,
with solemn eyes that concealed a twinkle in their
depths. "Well, man, what is it?" I asked impa-
tiently.

He jerked his thumb in the direction of the stairs.
'She would speak with ye," he announced, in the
solemn manner of one issuing a proclamation.

"The Princess?" I exclaimed. "She has come
to herself, then?" He nodded speechlessly. "What
ails you?" I cried, irritated at his reticence. "Have
you lost your tongue, that you cannot tell me what
she wants?"

"I'm thinking you'll be after wishing some one
else had lost a tongue before many minutes," he ob-
served mysteriously. "As for what she wants, 'tis
she will tell you that. I'm confident she'll do the
subject full justice. And now may the Virgin have
mercy on your soul. Sir John!" he spluttered, re-
treating to the fire in a sudden irrepressible burst of
laughter. "I'd a deal rather face the Paduans, me-
silf!"

ll i

CHAPTER IX

THE DAGGER THRUST.

It was with no very lively anticipation that I went
slowly up the stairs. To be sure, I had done all my
day's work in the Princess Giulia's service, and at
the greatest possible risk rnd sacrifice. I was trying
earnestly to save her from Prince Antonio and his
plots, and to send her in safety to Francesco Car-
rara, who, though no friend of mine, was a brave
and noble ruler and would deal honestly with his
young kinswoman. I deserved her thanks — but I
was tolerably sure that I would not get them. She
knew nothing at all of the Prince's scheme to win
her hand ; she knew only that I had seized her at the
inn and carried her off to a deserted castle garrisoned
by ruffians whose appearance no doubt made her
blood run cold. How was I to convince her of my
friendly intent?

I had enjoyed but one interview with her, and on
that occasion she had shown her unflattering opin-
ion o ' me with a clearness I could have spared. Now
she would believe herself justified in her contempt
for me, and my accusations of the Prince would be
so much wasted breath. For my part, I had no

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Sir John Hawkwood

knowledge of how to deal with great ladies. My life
had lain among men, most of all among my wild
band of free companions, fellows who were to be
ruled by blows and curses, and in no other way. The
thought of changing words with a woman was dis-
concerting to me, and I admitted in advance that
I was like to show to poor advantage in the con-
flict.

And yet, perversely enough, I was pleased at the
fact that she had sent for me. It was like her, this
soft girl whose life I could have crushed out with
one twist of my hands, to demand my presence the
moment that her swoon had passed, and to undaunt-
edly face odds that would have caused many strong
men to quail. She had no fear; I might kill her,
but I could never break her spirit, and the knowl-
edge gave me a ridiculous pleasure. Few women
on earth, I believed, would have done aught but
cower weeping above, listening to the rude sounds
of mirth below, and praying to be left in solitude.
The Prince's cousin was cast in a different mould,
and I honored her for it, and was more than ever
glad that I had risked my life to help her. But I
had something the feeling of a school-boy as I
crossed the gallery and passed through her door.

The fire was blazing merrily, throwing bright
gleams on the mouldering tapestry, and lighting the
ceiling, which was covered by a faded painting in
blue and gold. The women's cloaks and masks were
piled on the floor by the couch, and a whip with a

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145

jewelled handle lay at the threshold, where it had
fallen from Madonna Francesca's hands.

The Princess was standing in the centre of the
room, her head thrown back, her dark eyes regard-
ing me steadily. She was very pale, and her breath
came a trifle fast, but there was no fear in her face
— only anger and scorn that might well have shriv-
eled me had I been the creature of her fancy. The
light gleamed on her green dress, on its heavy sil-
ver broidery, and on the jewels at her throat; she
had the look of a splendid statue. Madonna Fran-
cesca, all her brief courage gone now that her lady
no longer needed her aid, was crouching against the
wall with tears on her cheeks. I had entered, I
thought, in a most quiet fashion — indeed, I fe?r
my manner might have been described as foolish
and shame-faced — but the clash of my spurs and the
glitter of my cuirass proved too much for O'Meara's
charming enchantress, who shrieked, ran forward,
and flung herself kneeling beside Giulia, clutching
with trembling fingers at her gown.

"Hush, Francesca, hush," said the Princess, put-
ting an arm around her, but not withdrawing her
straight gaze from mine. "Be calm, child. Are
you afraid of such creatures as this man?" Her
eyes burned me as she went on. "Sir John Hawk-
wood, I have sent for you to demand the meaning
of this most dastardly and unknightly outrage done
on me and my friend. You seize me in a public
inn, you bring me to this place — where we are I do

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Sir John Hawkwood

not know, for I never saw this castle until to-nighl
— you surround me with men who have the look
of fiends! I, a woman, the cousin of the Prince
of Verona! I who never dreamed that such hor-
rors could be done! Speak, sir!" she cried, her an-
ger growing at my silence. "I have asked you the
meaning of this thing. Are you a false knight, a
villain, a coward? Have you brought me here to
murder me? Speak, do not stand there staring at
me, you that are unworthy to rest your eyes upon
me! Oh, it maddens me that I must breathe the
same air with a thing as vile as you! Tell me
why you have done this, what I must expect —
then leave me, for your presence is more than I can
bear!"

Her words were hard ones, yet I felt no re-
sentment, for so I would have had her face the man
who had served her as she believed with reason that
I had done. Had Gianni Potrero succeeded in his
attempt, had he stood where I stood now, then he
would surely have deserved her anger and con-
tempt; and what cause had she to know that I
was better than Potrero? She was magnifi-
cently beautiful in her brave defiance — very dif-
ferent from her uncle, who had played the woman
below and ridden away, abandoning her gladly to
purchase his own safety. She was the man of her
family, far more fitted to rule Verona than her
foppish painted cousin Antonio, the last of the Scali-
geri. I felt a rush of pride in her spirit, a desire to

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Sir John Hawkwood 147

salute her with my sword as I might have saluted a
brave soldier whom I had met in battle.

"Princess," I said quietly, "you do me great
wrong, but I cannot blame you, since you know
nothing of the causes of my action. Will you lis-
ten patiently to what I desire to tell you?"

"I have no wish to listen to you," she cried pas-
sionately. "Tell me in a word what you desire of
me. Will you kill me here? I do not doubt it;
your soldiers have the air of men who would find
murder a merry pastime! Will you hold me to
ransom? That would be a plan worthy of Sir John
Hawkwood, mercenary, free-lance, noble gentle-
man who sells his sword for scudi and auctions
himself to all the rulers of Europe! Oh, I had not
believed that any man who wore a knight's spurs
could do so vile a deed !"

There was rising irritation in my heart now. She
had the right to feel anger at her capture, yes— but
this harping on my trade, all these hard words as
to my fighting, had begun to sting me. She was
too proud, this girl. She had never learned that
high birth may be a poor thing if unbolstered by
something more. After all, it ill became those who
bought my services to jeer at me for rendering
them. I had brought her house great gain, and
when all was said and done a trade in which I
risked my life almost daily could not be wholly
despicable.
"But I understand— it is not the knight who has

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planned and carried out this pretty scheme," she
continued bitterly, "It is the tanner's son, the peas-
ant, the man who, here in Verona, would never
have owned a sword, but would have been set to
labor for his betters! Perhaps I have been too
hard on you, after all — what should such as you
know of truth and honor?"

I controlled myself with an effort. "Listen to
me, Princess," I said coldly. "It is quite true that
I am not of high birth, it is true that all my life
has not been lived on a noble level. But I swear
to you that when I brought you here to-day at risk
of my own death, I did the noblest thing that I
have ever done yet!"

"And a rare and knightly life yours has been,
then, and an honor to chivalry," she cut me short,
"if the capture of two helpless women may take
such high rank among its deeds!"

"Princess," I said, with what grim patience I
could muster, "if I were indeed the man you think
me, you would serve yourself very ill by the utter-
ing of such words !"

"Ah, Madonna Giulia, for the dear Virgin's
sake let him be," Francesco moaned, pressing her
face against her lady's dress in an agony of ter-
ror. "If you offend him, he can call in those hor-
rible creatures from below-stairs, and then the saints
alone know what might come to us! I saw their
knives as they sat in the hall — great long knives,
with such sharp blades as I shall see in my dreams

Sir John Hawkwood

149

until I die ! You are mad to speak as you do. Let
us pay whatever ransom they desire; surely the
Prince would rather his strong-box were drained
dry than that we should be murdered here! I
would give ten years of my life to be safe within
the walls of Verona !"

"Hush, child," Giulia answered soothingly. "If
we are ':o die, let us at least die bravely. Come, you
will not let this man think that you fear him?"

"There is no need of any fear," I said, getting in
my word at last. "You are safe here, both of you,
and I swear that all I have done to-day has been
in your service "

"In our service ! And how, pray ? Such a tale is
very credible, is it not?" the Princess scoflfed mer-
cilessly. "You take me from Verona, where I live
in the royal palace, where my cousin protects me
and all others serve me. You bring me to this wild
deserted place, surround me with cutthroats, put
me in the midst of such men as have never before
stood in my presence!" She threw her eyes about
the bare gloomy room, shivering in spite of herself.
Only a dauntless resolution h-:-!.! her from despair,
and I knew it, despite her brave front. "I could
gladly dispense with such services. Sir John! But
you have not yet informed me of your object. Is it
ransom? Surely even one as base as you cannot
have done this thing for pure diversion — ^you must
have had a purpose?"

Oh, it was hopeless, the whole of it. I could have

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Sir John Ilawkwood

groaned to think that I had ever hoped to persuade
her of my honesty. If now I told her the tale from
the beginning to the end, if I painted Antonio della
Scala in all his baseness, would she credit a word of
what I said ? Only too well I knew that she would
not. Had I possessed the tongues of angels, what I
told her must needs be lost in the mere fact of the
horror of her surroundings; she could never be-
lieve that I, who had brought her to this place and
surrounded her with these men, had her welfare
at heart. Nor could I honestly blame her. Cradled
in luxury throughout her life, served and flattered
from her birth, she had never known force or vio-
lence until now, and it was but natural she should
hate and distrust me with all her heart. I shrugged
my shoulders and set my teeth, and vowed that
I would save her despite herself. I would hold
this castle till the Florentines sent me succor;
then she should go, well guarded, to Padua — and
once there, Francesco Carrara would never let her
escape. For years he had claimed her as his ward
and schemed to get her in his power, and twice he
had made unsuccessful attempts to seize her. He
would guard her well, and when her first anger
had passed she would be happy, for he was a
kindly man and no doubt would show her all in-
dulgence.

As I stood blackly reflecting, and she watched
me coldly, we heard heavy footsteps in the gallery
without, and after a moment Franz and Pierre ap-

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Sir John Hawkwood

151

pcared at the door, one bearing food and wine and
the other carrying a sadly broken table, found some-
where in the castle. "It was Messer O'Meara bade
us come," Pierre explained hastily, as I wheeled
about to see the meaning of the intrusion. "He
said, Sir John, you would be wishing the two ladit
to break fast after their long ride."

I welcomed the diversion. "A good thought," I
answered. "Come, lay out the table. We are all
worn with riding and will feel the better for food."

The two men moved busily about their work,
throwing curious side-glances at the women, and
no doubt racking their brains as to the meaning
of the night's adventure. Francesca broke into
renewed sobbing, and clung to the Princess as to
her one hope in life, brokenly whispering prayers
now to one saint and now to another, and promis-
ing endless quantities of offerings at their shrines
should she ever see Verona again. Madonna GiuHa
stood rigid and motionless, but her dark eyes fol-
lowed every movement of the two fellows with a
resolutely controlled dread and horror that went to
my heart. They were not such evil rogues, Franz
and Pierre — indeed, I reckoned them among the
best and most faithful of my troop. They were
undeniably thieves, and would not have held back
from murder had they seen any gain to be got that
way, but they possessed a kind of dogged fidelity
and a desperate courage that made me value them
and even feel a vague fondness for them. Never-

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1^2 Sir John Hawkwood

theless, looking at them now, and putting myself by
an eflFort of imagination in the place of my cap-
tives, I could not deny that they had all the air of
most abandoned ruffians. The Fleming was swart
and dark, with a trap-mouth, and a colorless face
so seamed with scars that his own mother would not
have known him had chance thrown her across his
path. Franz, the great blond German, had the look
of a reckless desperate giant, at odds with the world,
and disposed to take vengeance on it for a thousand
wrongs. I could well fancy the terror of two shel-
tered girls at finding themselves at the mercy of
such men, in a castle far from any help or protec-
tion, and the thought softened me again toward
the dauntless little lady who confronted dangers so
far removed from her luxurious life, and never fal-
tered or showed her fright.

I sent the men away when their work was done,
and as they passed the door the Princess and Fran-
cesca breathed audible sighs of relief— though I have
small doubt they both thought me well-nigh as for-
midable as my troopers. I had seen so many peo-
ple gain courage by virtue of food and wine, so
many tempers soothed by the same means, that I
was inclined to bless O'Meara for his inspiration.
No doubt, I told myself hopefully, when the Prin-
cess had eaten she would be more in a mood to
listen patiently to what I had to tell her. With a
determined eflFort at friendliness I waved her toward
the table. "Come, sit, Madonna," I urged her.

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153

"You are weary, and no wonder, for what you have
endured to-day might well have tired a strong man."

She shook her head angrily. "I will not sit at
table with you," she said, bitterly. "I will not break
bread with you, Sir John Hawkwood. You have
me here in your power, and you can kill me if you
choose, but you can never make me deal on equal
terms with a tanner's son and a cutthroat bravo!"

Again I shrugged, trying to hide from her how
the words hurt me. Indeed, after a moment's re-
flection I forgot my own discomfiture in a kind of
amused pity for her. She was white and tired, poor
child, and the look she cast toward the table told
me plainly enough that the roughly cooked meat — a
dish which in the palace at Verona she would have
rejected with scorn — tempted her not a little now.
Yet she would go hungry sooner than sit down with
me ! Oh, she was very young, the pretty termagant,
and it were foolishness on my part to take seriously
a word she said. As for Madonna Francesca, that
charming lady was apparently of a very different
mind from her mistress.

"Oh, why should we refuse?" she whispered pa-
thetically, staring with obvious longing at the steam-
ing food. "We spite ourselves, not him — and after
all, is it worse to sit at table with him than to stand
in the room with him, as we needs must do as
long as he chooses to remain? I have eaten noth-
ing since early morning, and am near dead with
hunger; and that meat has a good odor, while I

»54

Sir John Hawkwood

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would give my rings for a sup of wine. Let us eat,
Mad«iMina Giulia. What good to go suppcrless from
pride?"

"If you hesitate only from distaste to my com-
pany," I cut in, iicfore the Princess could speak,
*'reassurc yourselv,;s, I beg. It was not my intention
to sit down with you, and if you choose I will leave
the room and remain away from you till your meal
is ended. Will that content you, Princess ? Only, I
entreat, do not fast any longer, for you are not ac-
customed to such privations."

As I spoke I saw a quick change in her expres-
sion, a gleam in her eyes, followed immediately by
a cautious glance at me to discover if I had noted
it. Since I looked as stolid and grim as ever, she
apparently took it for granted that I had seen noth-
ing — but I had, and I was quite aware that a plan
had come to her in that instant, and that she was
going to set iier wits against mine. Until now she
had abandoned herself to unreasoning anger and de-
fiance, but at length her mind was turning toward
a means of escape. I could have smiled at the
thought, so absurd did it seem that this girl should
cope with me. After a moment she confirmed my
guess by moving slowly and reluctantly toward the
table, seating herself, and looking up at me with
what she no doubt fancied was a softened air.

"After all, Sir John, it may be that I wrong you,"
she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice
and render it gentle. "You say that you have

Sir John Hawkwood 755

wished to serve me — it may be so, though I confess
I do not understand. My cousin trusts you ; surely
you would not act altogether evilly to me who am
kin to him." She paused an instant as if to con-
strain herself to her part, then added, with an ob-
vious eflfort, "Sit with us, Sir John, it is my de-
sire."

I seated myself at her right hand, suppressing a
smile. Did she fancy that by softer words and
cajolements she miglit persuade me to set her free?
However, I was but too glad if for any cause she
would cease raging at me and eat the food which
she mv.'^ sorely need after her wild ride and her
swoon. I served her, and she thanked me with an
eflFort at graciousness, then began to eat slowly and
without looking at her plate. Not so Madonna Fran-
cesca, who fell on her share with avidity, and I
think forgot for the nonce all her peril in the pleas-
ant occupation of clearing her dish. As for me,
I ate heartily, for I had a true soldier's appetite, and
had yet to see the emotion that should put me out
of temper with my supper. It was not the fare for
dainty women, to be sure, but fatigue and hunger
made a good sauce, and I heard no complaints.

For a time none of us spoke, and the silence,
the ruddy fire, and the fact that a strange lull
seemed to have fallen on us, set me dreaming. I
began to eat more slowly, staring the while at the
Princess as though I would have learned her face
by heart. Surely she was the most beautiful thing

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Sir John Hawkwood

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on which my eyes had ever rested, though in my
long years of soldiering I had seen many foreign
Courts and many famous and lovely ladies. Her
black hair had dragged loose about her forehead;
its soft shadow made her face seem whiter, her eyes
darker, her lips more scarlet. I cursed myself bit-
terly for a fool, and tried to turn my thoughts to
other things. Why had she changed her manner
toward me so suddenly? It was not from any re-
lenting, I was sure of it. Even now I could see that,
despite her pretense at calm, she was laboring under
great emotion.

Some movement of Madonna Francesca's roused
her, and she looked up and caught my eye. "You
said. Sir John," she began, still with that resolute
pretense at graciousness, "that you would tell me
of your reasons for all thi strange doings. I
am more myself now, and can hear you patiently.
Will you not begin at once?"

"Surely, Princess," I answered readily. "It will
be a hard tale for you to believe, I know that; but
I swear to you by all I hold sacred that I will tell
you nothing but the truth. And I think you may
believe me, for the reason that I stand to gain noth-
ing by what I have done, but rather to lose my life
unless all goes according to my hopes. What I have
to say, Madonna, concerns your cousin, Antonio
della Scala "

I broke off abruptly. At the beginning of my
speech she had swayed close to me au if in eager at-

Sir John Hawkvvood 157

tention; but her face had held no consciousness of
what I said, only a strained white look of intentness.
And now, suddenly as a flash of lightning, her hand
flew out, seized the handle of my dagger, and
brought it hissing from its sheath. I caught the
gleam of the steel poised above me, and heard a
low terror-smitten cry from Madonna Francesca.
Then, with the unconscious impulse of the trained
soldier, I acted. My own hand we^t out mechan-
ically, caught the Princess' wrist, and arrested it
just as the dagger reached my breast. The sharp
point tore the folds of my cloak, struck my cuirass,
then stopped; and I stood breathing hard, my clutch
still on the girl's arm, the bright blade still poised
against me.

A hundred times I had been in danger of my
life and had escaped only by a hair-breadth, but
never had any attempt at killing struck me with
such amazement and left me in a state of such be-
wildered emotion. She, the Princess, had tried to
plunge my own dagger into my heart ! The words
beat themselves again and again in my ears, stun-
ning me. I could not believe it — I would have fan-
cied myself in a dream had not the light, flashing on
the steel, given me visible proof of what had passed,
and a hint at what might have been.

I had Madonna Giulia's wrist in my grasp. She
stood motionless, staring at me in breathless fasci-
nation, as if waiting for me to strike her down.
Under the pressure of my fingers her hand opened

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and the dagger rang clattering at our feet. Our
eyes met in a straight look, and her face drew into
lines of desperate anger and despair; but even now
she gave no sign of fear, nor did she make any
effort to pull herself loose from my grasp. Ma-
donna Francesca cried out and caught at my arm.

"So, Princess," I said slowly, looking at her,
"you thought to kill me, eh? To stab me while I
sat with you at the table, and while you shared
my bread ?"

She stared back at me, not pulling away, hardly
seeming to breathe. "Yes, I thought to stab you,"
she said passionately. "Why not? You have im-
prisoned me for some evil purpose of your own —
for all I know it may be your life or mine. I come
of a race that can hate well, that strikes its enemies.
Oh, have I not good cause to kill you. Sir John
Hawkwood, you that have brought me to this hor-
rible place for some horrible purpose?"

After a pause I laughed grimly and released
her. She fell back a little, still staring at me wildly.
I picked up my dagger, regarded the blade critically,
and sheathed it, then strode across the room to the
door, and with my foot on the threshold turned and
looked back. Madonna Francesca had run to the
Princess, and the two were clinging to each other,
their eyes following me in fascinated wonder.

"It is a mistake. Princess," I said coolly, "to try
to stab an old soldier who is far quicker with the
dagger than any lady could be. I am used to such

Sir John Havvkwood len

attempts on my life, and I do not fear them—con-
tmue them, by all means, if the diversion consoles
you. Only, I would advise you to consider this—
had you killed me a moment since God alone can
tell what would have been your fate; you would
have been at the mercy of my devils below-stairs,
and if once my hand were off them I do not like
to consider how two dainty ladies would fare in
their midst. Well, I see that since you look on me
with such hatred, I should waste words in telling
you the tale of why I brought you hither, so I
will leave you to get your rest. Good-night."

Turning on my heel, I left the room and swung
the door shut behind me, and hardly had I crossed
the gallery when I heard them forcing the rusty
bolt into place.

^il

V i

CHAPTER X

AN ATTACK FROM WITHIN

Theb was little sleep for me that night. On
leaving .ae Princess I went to the lower hall, supple-
mented what food I had consumed above by a second
share of meat and wine, and then, after a confer-
ence with O'Meara, went over the castle from top
to bottom to discover how well fitted it was for the
standing of a siege. I was not ill satisfied with what
I found. There were spots, to be sure, where the
walls were thin and broken; but on the whole I fan-
cied that, aided oy the moat and the draw-bridge,
I could make shift to hold the place for as long as
our scant provisions lasted, unless Prince Antonio
came against me with a large force and powerful
cannon. And I thought he would not do this until
he had wasted time in sending Gianni Potrero, or
another troop of the same sort— and every hour
gained was an aid to me, since in ten days or there-
abouts I might look for succor from Florence.
On reflection my spirits rose, and I began to feel
that I had at least a fair chance of success.

I set some ten of my men on sentinel duty, bade
the others get their rest, and sat down by the fire
in the hall. O'Meara joined me and de anded an

Sir John Hawkwood

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account of my interview with the Princess, but I
was in no mood for talk, and after expressing him-
self very freely on the subject of my taciturnity he
went off in dudgeon to get what sleep he could. At
intervals I made the rounds of the castle to see that
my men were not failing in their duty and nodding at
their posts. I found nothing of the sort, but nev-
ertheless I failed to return from my wanderings
with an easy mind, for it was plain to me that a
spirit of discord was stirring in the place. When
I came on two men together, they had their heads
close, and were deep in some conference which, at
sight of me, they broke off with an air half sheepish
and half sullen. Their obedience to my orders was
prompt enough, yet something in their manner
told me plainly that they were out of sorts. The
meaning of all this was easy to guess. There had
been a deal of secret discussion as to why the
Prince's cousin was our prisoner, and some of my
troop had come to the conclusion that the business
was not to their liking.

Returning to the hall, I kicked the fire and pol-
ished the hilt of my sword. If the next four and
twenty hours did not find me with something very
like a mutiny upon my hand, then I had lost all my
shrewdness in reading signs and portents. A mut-
iny! And if I fell, as might happen easily enough
should my free lances conclude that I was bringing
them into trouble, what would then become of the
Princess? Had I, after all, been mad to bring her

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to this place? I shuddered to think what might
chance if O'Meara and I were cut down, and the
wild horde about us were left free to do their own
will. However, it was useless for me to pass the
night in worry. I needed all my strength if I were
to bring this business to a successful termination;
I had better try to sleep. I accordingly stretched
myself near the fire with my cloak rolled into a
pillow, but hardly had I closed my eyes when a
new thought sent me to my feet in a cold chill. What
if some among my men should try tampering with
the Princess' door? I hastened up the stairs like
one gone mad, and drew a free breath only when
I found the gallery quite empty. In the end I
stretched myself at full length close to the threshold,
and as the stone paving was very chilly I cannot say
that I have a pleasant recollection of the remainder
of the night.

When at last I fell asleep it was dawn, and ex-
haustion kept my eyes shut until the sun was well
up. Rising hastily, I stretched my cramped limbs,
thought eagerly of breakfast, and descended to the
lower hall, where various savory smells told me I
might gratify my hunger. This done with, I bade
O'Meara take food to the ladies, whom I had no
intention of seeking that day. It was quite useless,
I knew, to try to convince the Princess of my good
faith, and I had resolved to make no further effort.

O'Meara did not return, and after finishing my
meal in solitude I began to experience considerable

Sir John Hawkwood 163

curiosity as to what he could be about. Yielding
at last, I went quietly up the stairs, but paused with
my foot on the topmost step, my mouth falling open
in astonishment.

The door to the Princess' room was ajar, and Ma-
donna Giulia was no doubt within; but Francesca
and O'Meara had come out into the gallery. For
a moment I smiled, thinking that I understood.
Since Giulia had failed the night before in her at-
tempt to crush me with her anger and her cold
steel, no doubt her lady had determined to see if
she might not have better luck in winning 0*Meara
over to their cause.

At the further end of the gallery, beneath a win-
dow looking out on the inner court, was a wide
stone bench built into the wall; and on this lay
Madonna Francesca in the most limp and pathetic
heap imaginable, her misty golden hair dishevelled,
her dark eyes full of tears, her pretty lips quiv-
ering in a fashion that might well have made any
living man long to kiss them into smiles.

The Irishman stood before her, and at sight of
him I came near to oetraying my presence with a
roar of mirth. It had long been my opinion, based
on wide experience and observation, that Michael
O'Meara was the equal in bravery of any of the
numerous valiant men I had encountered in a long
and warlike career. Nay, he was the better of most
of them, for he had a love of danger for its own
sake, a delight in peril, that many brave men lack.

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Sir John Hawkwood

5 i.

I had seen him lead a charge against odds that
seemed hopeless, I had seen him hold a pass single-
handed with twenty men against him, I had seen
him beat to a jelly a mutineer far larger and more
formidable-looking than himself. But I must con-
fess that to-day he came near to losing my high
opinion for good and all; for never in my life had
I beheld such a picture of abject cowardice as he
now appeared before this little golden-haired lady,
whose head, had she stood on the tips of her toes,
could scarcely have reached the level of his shoul-
der.

"Ah," she sobbed, piteously enough, "I cannot be-
lieve it of you, Messer O'Meara, indeed I cannot.
Only two days ago we were in the Prince's loggia,
and you swore you loved me with all your heart
and soul "

"And I did that same," he protested passionately.

"Yet you have joined in this horrible plot to carry
me off, to take me from Verona and my father and
all my people, and lock me in this grim place
among thieves and cutthroats, whose faces make me
shiver " Her voice broke into renewed sob-
bing. "All night I could not sleep for terror. Are
we to be murdered here? Is that your purpose?"

"Heavn forbid," cried he. "You're as safe here
as in a nunnery, mavourneen, while Sir John and I
live to protect you "

"Fie, never speak your evil captain's name in my
presence," cried the girl. "I had thought you a

Sir John Hawkwood

16S

noble gentleman, Messer O'Meara — I had believed
that if I were in peril you would risk your life to
save me. Instead of that, you carry me off like
any brigand. Ah, I see now that I was very wrong.
You are a bravo, a cutthroat, like the men below
and like your brave Sir John!" It struck me as
rather inconsistent in the lady to herself mention
the name she had chided him for uttering, but he
did not appear to notice it. "Yes, my father was
right, and I am well served for having been so dis-
obedient as to fancy you. I have learned better
now. If ever I get back to Verona in safety, I will
be a dutiful daughter. I will never see you again,
and I will wed with Lord Paolo Ravignani, as my
father wishes. He is not a young man. Lord Paolo,
but at least he does not carry maids off to prison.
And he is handsome, and very rich — he could have
had his choice among all the ladies at the Prince's
Court — I was very foolish to show him coldness,
or to listen to you for a moment when you came
whispering in my ear !"

"Sure and you're not meaning a word of that,"
cried O'Meara, plainly undergoing the torments of
the damned. "Listen, now — we mean no harm by
you; 'tis myself would kill the man that touched a
hair of your head. Never fret so, in the end all
will come well. Can't you be trusting me, dear?"

She turned away from him pettishly. "I can
never trust you again, I can never look on you
without fear and horror," she informed him relent-

i66

Sir John Hawkwood

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lessly. "Do you think 1 shall ever forget tl e ride
you gave me yesterday? Ah, no, you do not love
me, or you would not have risked dashing out my
brains beneath your horse's hoofs. I am stiff and
sore and frightened yet — and see how you bruised
my finger against your steel vest ! It is blue at the
tip, you can see for yourself I" And she extended
a little white hand with an intensely tragic gest-
ure.

The utter horror that instantly depicted itself on
O'Meara's face appeared to mollify her slightly,
and amused me to such a point iiat I came near
betraying my presence by a burst . f laughter. A
bruised finger, indeed! The Irishman was accus-
tomed to see blood run like water, and I had seen
him take wounds that were near mortal with never
a groan ; yet his anguished solicitude was as sincere
as though he were some young girl who had never
looked on a bare blade. Ah, well, his case was
quite hopeless. This merry, dauntless, hard-riding,
hard-hitting comrade of mine was utterly at the
mercy of a flouting, pouting girl, who held his heart
in her hand and wrung it for her diversion. Never-
theless, any one less blinded by love than himself
could have guessed that she was very far from dis-
liking him, and I fancied that if we all won through
the perilous pass where we now stood it was very
likely that Madonna Francesca di Montalto would
choose for her lord and master a penniless soldier
of fortune, setting asitie in his favor a Veronese

Sir John Hawkwood

167

noble whom every lady at the Prince's Court might
well have envied her.

I left the two at their wrangling and made the
round of the castle, finding nothing that heartened
me greatly. The dissatisfaction of the men had
grown in the night; that was plain enough to be
read by any one with eyes. Presently there would
be an outbreak — and I found myself looking for-
ward to it with an uneasiness I had never felt before
in time of peril. Women, I reflected angrily, were
a sore drag to any enterprise; their presence dou-
bled the danger, made the thought of failure a
hundred times more terrible. I gave no sign that
I perceived anything ominous in the wind, but
strode about briskly, praising some, rating others
who appeared laggards, giving curt orders after my
usual fashion. The men toward whom my eyes
were turned assumed for the moment an air of ready
obedience, but I knew that the instant my gaze was
off them they fell to grumbling and plotting behind
my back. The air had the still tenseness of a coming
storm. And if my own troopers turned against me,
how was I to hold the castle against Antonio?

Weary and disheartened, I went up on the bat-
tlements and lay stretched out in the sun, gazing
across the black woods and the fertile country that
melted away in the distance. How soon might I
hope to see the Florentine troop come across that
stretch of land to help me in my need ? And what
if, for reasons of policy, they should forget my

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168 Sir John Hnwkwood

old services and fail mc? I decided that it was
best not to consider this possibihty. Come what
might, having gone thus far I must go further, and
save tlie Princess.

I liad been reflecting in melancholy solitude for
perhaps an hour when hurrying footsteps sounded
near me and Pierre came rushing into sight. "Sir
John, Sir John." he cried eagerly, "come below, I
beg you! Messer O'Mcara has sent me to summon
you. It is the men — curse them, they have gone
mad ! They say you have betrayed them and turned
the Prince against tliem. Last tiight they saw the
jewels that the Princess wore, and now they swear
to seize them and ilivide them, and scatter over Italy
to seek fortune where they may. But first they will
kill vou and Messer O'Meara. and as for the

women-

I waited for no more, but darted down the stairs
with him at my heels. There was a ringing in
my ears, a quick darkness before my eyes. Not
on my own account, let me do myself that ju.stice;
for myself, I was well used to danger and looked
for no other fate than to die some day by the sword ;
nor was my life so noble a thing that I would
have grieved greatly over the losing of it. But the
Princess! Had I brought her here that she might
fall into the hands of men like my mercenaries?
Better a thousand times that I had left her to An-
tonio della Scala! The thought lent wings to my
feet as I hurried down into the castle.

I i

Sir John Hawkwood

iCtC)

The murmur of voices told me that the men
were gathered in the gallery. No doubt they
had swarmed up the stairs to hreak )n Madonna Gi-
ulia's door and help themselves to her jewels. As I
drew nearer I caught the angry note in their tones,
the accent of unbridled lawlessness that spelt terri
ble danger. For a moment I paused on the stairs,
knowing better than to burst in upon them with
any appearance of haste and fright; and in that
moment my anxiety seemed to pass away like a
cloud, leaving me confident of my p<nver to rule
tlie storm. I had subdued these cutthroats before
in time of peril, I would do the same again. There
must be no failure — lor the Princess' sake!

A gieat crash fell on my ears, followed by a
hoarse evil shout of triumph. Delaying no longer,
I left the stairs and strode into the gallery.

The crash had been caused by the breaking in of
the Princess' door, which had flown into splinters
The men were surging forward now, then giving
back slightly, for in the opening stood O'Meara, his
face white with anger, his eyes blazing, and his
drawn sword flashing in his hand. Behind him
stood Madonna Giulia. She was \";ry pale and had
a look of restrained horror, but held herself proudly
erect and made no sign of fear. Francesca was
clinging to her in terror, trembling and hiding her
face.

"God curse ye all for a set of cowardly devils,"
O'Meara was crying fiercely. "Come on, then —

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Sir John Hawkwood

lir^it'

come on. and taste cold steel! Never fear, Princess
—and you, mavourneen, keep u-* irart," he encour-
aged the ladies, across his shoul " 'Tis Sir John
will be after settling the knave. the wink of an
eye when he comes. Ah, would ye, you sons of
perdition? 'Tis black shame you bring on the
name of the White Company with such doings as
these. Now glory be. here's Sir John!" He gave
a war-whoop of delight at seeing me. "All's well
now," he went on to the ladies, with an easy as-
surance most flattering to my powers. "Now there'll
be no more danger at all. at all. Make yourselves
easy, and never trouble to look any more at these
dogs."

I strode across the gallery, straight through the
crowd, which parted instinctively to give me room.
I had reached O'Meara and the doorway before
one of the men shrieked out, bidding the others cut
me off and end me with a dagger-thrust. Again
they surged forward, and I looked on a circle of
fierce evil faces full of the dangerous passions of
the wild beast. All were armed; I caught the
flash of many a ragged-looking knife and many a
keen cutlass. Instinctively I turned my head for a
glance at the Princess. Her eyes had the look of
one who gazed on a vision of hell, nor did they
change as they rested on me. To her I v/as but of
the rest, as evil as they, as brutal. And I have
no doubt I appeared so in that instant, for I had
learned long ago that the only fashion in which

Sir John Hawkvvood 171

one might rule a band of wild ruffians like my free
lances was by playing the part of a wilder ruffian
than the greatest among them; and I confronted
them now with a look fierce and grim enough to put
their swagger to shame.

"Well!" I said sternly. "And what does this
mean, I should be glad to hear? I commanded that
this gallery should be kept empty; I come down to
find my entire force assembled in it. and a door
broken to bits. Who is to blame, then? Who has
led you? Faith, I would not choose to rtand in his
boots, for by my knightly spurs I will have him
beaten to a jelly for this day's work. Answer me.
you dogs— what does this thing mean, and on whose
suggestion did you act ?"

They kept silence for a moment. They had
come there with their minds fully made up to kill
me, yet so strong is the habit of obedience that
my unmoved front made them quail. Had I turned
pale or hesitated ever so little, then they would surely
have fallen on me and struck me down, and the
Princess' fate would have been irrevocably sealed.
Since I confronted them threateningly, they looked
half shame-faced, and no one seemed anxious to
make the first move against the door.

"Well, am I to stand here forever staring at you ?"
I demanded, and backed the question with such
a volley of camp oaths as no doubt oflFended the
Princess more than the sight of steel. "Have you
lost your tongues? You have lost your courage, at

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172

Sir John Hawkwood

least, I see. And you have good cause to lose it,
for you shall all pay for this! What, is there no
one of you that dares stand forward and face me?
Faugh, you are all girls, unfit to wear swords and
bestride horses! Rally up your spirits, find a
spokesman who will dare tell me what all this may
mean I"

My jibes had some effect on them. There w?s
a growl of threatening anger and. encouraged by
the sound, the leader ventured to step forward. It
was Jacques, as I had guessed from the beginning.
For a long time I had known him for a malcontent,
urging the others on to small acts of rebellion, plot-
ting for a time when he might get a large enough
following to leave me and turn into a leader of free
companions on his own account. I had kept him
down with a strong hand, and he had many a
grudge against me to pay oflF. Knowing him as I
did, I felt anew the danger of the moment. If I
failed, if Madonna Giulia fell into this man's
hands

"So. it is you!" I cried contemptuously, as he
came a pace forward. "A pity they could get no
better leader! Let me tell you, my friend, an hour
from now there will not be an inch of skin left
on your back, so flaunt your time while you may,
and act the hero! Go on— have you no tongue'
after all ?" *

For a moment he quailed, then laughed mali-
ciously. "My back is safe enough, mon capitaine,"

Sir John Hawkvvood 173

he mocked. "In an hour— in a half-hour— nay, in
half of that— you will be dead. We have had
enough of you, we are finished with the White
Company. When you are gone, and we have
amused ourselves for a time with the women, we
will g^ back to France and take service there. Say
a prayer, Sir John, if you have not forgotten the
art. We will give you a moment to save your soul !"
The others, surging forward ominously, laughed in
an evil fashion at the jest.

"I am not dead yet," I said coolly, "nor do I think
that such rogues as you can ever kill me. But come,
you make me curious. Why is it that you are all
so angered against me?" And I began to rock
on my heels, laughing as at the best joke in the
world.

"Because you are a traitor to us, mon capitaine,"
the ruffian answered, showing his teeth in a snarling
smile. "You turned against Prince Antonio, giving
us no warning of it, and embarked in this scheme
against his cousin. Now our lives are not worth
a pin here in Verona. Very good, we will put you
out of our way. we will show the Princess good
cheer, .md then we will shake the dust of Verona
from our heels and go uliere we shall be safe.
You have put all our heads into a nocjse, but it is
only your neck that will be wrung. What do you
say to that. Sir John Hawkwood ?" He had come
quite close to me, and was sneering maliciously into
my face.

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'74 Sir John Hawkwood

The situation was desperate, and I took the only
possible course, one which might, I knew, bring
ruin on us, or might perhaps save us— there was
no guessing which. "What do I say?" I retorted.
"I say that you need a lesson in the proper fashion
of address to use to your captain, and that I shall
give it to you!" And I caught him by the back of
the neck and began to beat him lustily with the flat
of my sword.

At his cry of rage and pain I was quite sure that
his comrades would sweep forward and annihilate
me; but they did nothing of the sort. Jacques
was not too well loved among them, though he had
a large following in his rebellion, and I have small
doubt it was the general sentiment that one as boast-
ful as he should be able to defend himself. Since
he was apparently capable of doing nothing more
than to struggle helplessly in my grasp and yell to
them for succor, they at once experienced a feel-
ing of contempt for him, and an added respect for
me. For the moment, at least, my bold move had
succeeded even according to my hopes.

"Have you more to say. you dog?" I asked grimly,
through my teeth, as I belabored him. "Then let
us hear it. by all means. Are you turned coward
already ? You would make a better monk than sol-
dier! Another time you will mind your manners
with me. I think!" And T added another string of
oaths for the benefit of my hearers, who thought no
speech emphatic which was not so garnished. "Well,

Sir John Hawkwood 175

is your lesson learned, or will you have more? Ah
would you then, knave?"

He had marie a desperate clutch at his dagger and
got It out of its sheath ; seeing which, and none too
soon, I struck Inni full across the side of the head
with the hilt of my sword, and he fell like a log
at my feet, m a dead swoon. I kicked the body out
of my way.

"Well," I said coolly, turning to confront the
others, "and who comes next to question me?"

No one answered me. Had they rushed me where
I stood, as I had looked for them to do. nothing on
earth could have saved me. OMeara and I stood
alone, two against two-score. But it is a strange
fact that sheer daring and defiance may sometimes
cow better than numbers ; and, as I looked about
the circle, a feeling of triumph ran through my veins
hke wine, and I knew that there was at least a chance
that I might win through and save the Princess.

There were men at the rear of the crowd who
had taken no part in the tumult, who had merely
waited to see how the tide would turn. These,
I knew, were not unfriendly to me. Others were
well enough disposed save for a natural anger at the
thought that I had led them into danger of the
Prince's vengeance for some purpose of my own. If
I could appease them all might yet go well with my
enterprise.

There was a movement in the crowd, and Pierre
came through and faced me. "I hope, Sir John,

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176 Sir John Hawkw«od

you'll not use me as you did Jacques," he said, kick-
ing contemptuously at the fallen man, and grinning
broadly, **but I'd like to ask you a question of my
own. You've led us for years now, and if in some
ways you've been a hard master, you've been a
just one too. You've played us fair, and never
tricked us. I believe the same of you now. We
can't tell why you have the Prince's cousin here a
prisoner, but I'll never believe you are leading us
into danger without good reason. Just tell me as
much, and say that you mean to play us fair, and
I'll stand for you against any odds that come."

The time for close-mouthed defiance had passed.
If the storm were to blow over, I must quiet these
fellows with some plausible explanation of my
strange actions; and after an instant's reflection I
hit upon the very thing. To be sure, it would not be
truth, and it is the bounden duty of all knights to
scorn false statements. As a common thing I was
as truthful as any other man, but in the present situ-
ation, with the lives of us all hanging on the fall of
the dice, I admit without shame that I would have
sworn away my soul if I could thereby have added
one iota to the Princess' safety.

"Why, you fools," I began, with an appearance
of bluflF heartiness, "I am leading you into no dan-
ger at all, though I will admit the enterprise is a
trifle difficult. Since you have come to your senses
and ceased to threaten me, I am willing enough to
tell you the meaning of it all. A short time since I

Sir John Havvkwood 177

overheard Prince Antonio conferring with Delia
Torre, and learned that he was weary of my services
and had it in mind to turn me off. That was a
poor prospect both for me and for you, eh? so I
looked about for a way to better it. Well, I knew
that this lady was kin to the Duke of Padua, who
claims her as his ward arid has long tried to get
possession of her; and I fancied he might be willing
to give a rich reward to those who put her in his
hands. I held secret communication with him, and
arranged the terms— then I carried off the lady.
We are to hold her safely here until the Duke sends
a strong escort to bring us safely into Padua, where
we will be well treated, I can promise you. Come,
is not this better than waiting in Verona until Prince
Antonio is pleased to turn us adrift? And have I
not a shrewder head than this fellow Jacques, who
would have persuaded you that I had some trick in
mind ? To be sure, there is risk and danger in the
business; but you are not afraid to venture some-
thing in hope of gain, I know of old; and our re-
ward will pay us well for all our trouble. Are you
content?"

I heard the Princess give a low gasp behind me,
but for the moment I paid her no heed at all. I
was looking with desperate eagerness at the troop-
ers to see if they accepted what I had said. If they
did, all was well. Fired by the hope of gain, they
would defend the castle like madmen against any
force that the Prince might send out to take it, and

178

Sir John Hawkwood

h, ■ ^

we would be safe until the Florentine men came to
my aid. After that, I cared very little how soon
they knew that I had tricked them in my tale. Could
it be that the danger had blown over?

It had. They were accustomed to reckless des-
perate enterprises, and what I had told them sound-
ed reasonable enough. After conferring for a time
they began to give back sheepishly, some of them
cursing Antonio for his plan to throw us over, and
congratulating themselves on the rare revenge of
robbing him of his cousin; others guessing how
much Francesco Carrara would give for so great
a service. Presently, too, they began to cast furtive
glances at me, as if uncertain how I might be in-
clined to visit my anger at their unruliness upon
them. "Oh, we were fools to doubt you. Sir John.
You have a better head than any of us," one of the
ring-leaders muttered apologetically.

"You will be fools if you do it twice, for I shall
not be so patient again!" I answered grimly. "For
the present I will be indulgent— after all, you had
some cause for suspicion, and this dog Jacques
stirred you up for his own ends. Take yourselves
oflF, you had better, while I stay in a good-natured
mood!"

They obeyed me with cheers and glances of ad-
miration, and in a moment the gallery was empty.

CHAPTER XI

THK COMING OF VIOLANTfi

When the last man had clattered down the stairs
I swung about on my heel and faced the three who
had stood behind me throughout the episode.
O'Meara had, it struck me, appeared to enjoy him-
self a great deal more than the circumstances war-
ranted. On my coming all feeling of responsibility
and anxi'ity had seemed to leave him, and he had
leaned calmly on the wall, watching my struggles
with a merry glint in his blue eyes, and laughing
heartily when I pommeled Jacques into submission.
Now that all was over he sheathed his sword, then
flung his arms about me and favored me with a
bear's embrace which came near making my ribs
crack.

"Glory be, 'twas yourself settled them in no time,
just as I was after telling the ladies you would,"
he rejoiced, loosening me, and executing a dance
about the gallery in his excitement. "But the affair
was a close one, do you know that? May we never
be nearer dying till our last day comes! Faith
and I knew you'd best them in the end, but at one
time I was mortal afraid they'd kill you first," he

170

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J 80 Sir John Hawk wood

rattled on, twisting his speech into such absurdi-
tiei u only an excited Irishman could have ut-
tered

"Oh, hold your tongue, Michael," I said curtly,
turning to the ladies. Krancesca was on her knees
with her face in her hands, oflfering up fervent pray-
ers in gratitude for her safety. As for the Princess,
she was standing proudly erect just within the door ;
her pale face was turned toward me, and in its every
feature breathed such an indignant contempt as I
shall never forget.

"So now at last I have learned the truth, Sir John
Hawkwood," she said in a low voice that trembled
curiously with emotion. "You have taken a bribe
from the Duke of Padua to seize rne and bring me
to him. Now I understand."

For an instant I did not answer her. Perhaps I
had cherished some vague hope that the manner in
which I had saved her from imminent death might
a litUe soften her toward me— might perhaps even
lead her to say a proud word of thanks. The scorn
and anger in her face hurt me sharply, hurt me as
the knives of my free lances could never have
done.

She continued to look at me with a searching dis-
dain. "Listen, sir," she said presently, in the tone
which she might have used to a dog. "I understand
you very well now. You care only for money.
Honor, knightliness, chivalry— all these are nothing
to you; but golden coins are a great deal. Good—

Sir John Hawkwood i8i

I will make you an offer, as I might make one to a
merchant I am not as rich as the Duke of Padua,
but nevertheless I have much gold. Tell me what
Francesco Carrara has promised yon for this pretty
business, and I will give you double the sum to set
me free."

I bowed low to her. "Thank you. Madonna." I
said, with a bitter laugh. "Remember that even a
man as vile as I may have some scruples, may not
care to betray the master whose enterprise he has
undertaken. I believe that even my enemies do not
deny me this one virtue."

Her face twisted suddenly. "How can it be, how
can u be!" she cried, turning away from me passion-
ately. "Is there no good in you, that you treat a
helpless girl so for your own gain? Have you no
shred of knightliness, you that wear a knight's
spurs?" She confronted me again, and this time
her eyes were kinder. "When you stood between
me and that crowd of cutthroats, Sir John Hawk-
wood, my heart softened to you. I thought, at least
he IS a brave man, at least he does not fear to
risk his life. And a moment later I heard from
your own lips for what base motive you had brought
me here. It is too much; I cannot believe that any
man can fall so low !"

"Madonna Giulia," I cried, "listen to me. What
1 told the men was but a tale of my own inventing,
a means to pacify them and turn them off. Do you
not understand? My motive is different-

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Sir John Hawkwood

Her face hardened again. "I do not believe you !"
she : '.ung at me. "By your own confession you have
lied either to me or to your troopers, and I have
no trust for a knight who lies. Do your will with
me, I cannot escape you ; I am a helpless woman who
cannot wield a sword "

"Small matter for that, Princess, when you pos-
sess a tongue!" I retorted, stung out of my man-
ners. "Since you choose to disbelieve me, I will
say no more. Liar is no pretty word, and since
you use it to me it is as well you are a helpless girl
and not a man with a sword ! We waste time chat-
tering here. Since your door is broken down, I
must beg you to cross the gallery and enter the room
there at the right. One of the men shall build a fire
in it to drive away the chill, though I think the sun
has already warmed it well enough."

She hesitated for a moment, looking as if she
would speak again; but my grim manner silenced
her. She was turning away when Pierre came has-
tily into the gallery.

"Your pardon, Sir John," he cried, much excited,
"but a small company of horsemen are coming from
the direction of Verona. I have seen them from the
battlements. What they want I cannot guess, for
they are not enough to storm the castle "

"Wait for me below," I cut him short. Then,
striding across the gallery, I opened the door of
the room I had chosen for the ladies, bowed to
them, and awaited their entrance. The Princess

Sir John Hawkwood

183

stood motionless, her color risen, her eyes bright as
stars.

"Men are coming from Verona!" she cried.
"They are coming to find me, to free me — is it
not so?"

"That, Princess," I answered coldly, "is what I
propose to descend and discover, if you will first
oblige me by entering this room."

"You will keep me imprisoned here?" she cried
angrily. "You will let me know nothing of this
party that has ridden here to help me ?"

"It would do you no good at all to see them," I
answered. "For depend upon it. Princess, whatever
troop of horsemen ride to Castel Paura to effect
your liberty will turn their horses' heads back to
Verona with their object unfulfilled !"

Our eyes met in a clashing glance. "You have
the right of force. Sir John Hawkwood," she said
coldly, taking Francesca's hand in hers and drawing
the girl forward. They entered the room together,
and I closed the door and drew the outer bolt.

"Come," I said quickly to O'Meara, and we ran
swiftly up to the battlements of the castle.

OflF in the distance a small group of horsemen
were riding in the direction of our stronghold.
They might have been a dozen, not more. "There
is no danger," I said to the Irishman, drawing a
breath of relief as my eye ranged over them. "But
what can it mean? Why are they coming here?"

As we looked they put spurs to their horses and

n\h

IftJl

M i

If!

I4>

184

Sir John Hawkwood

came on at a good pace. Now they were near the
edge of the wood, and I could see the gleam of the
sunlight on bright half -armor and cloaks and plumes.
It was a gaily dressed little party that was coming
to pay us a visit. O'Meara muttered an oath and
caught my arm. "Do you see— do you see?" he
cried excitedly. " 'Tis a woman there in the midst
of them! Now, be all that's wonderful, Sir John,
can you tell me what it is that a woman's wanting
here?"

"I can tell you that she is here for no good pur-
pose," I said curtly, "for I have just recognized
her as Madonna Violante, Delia Torre's wife, and
of all women I have ever seen she is the most dan-
gerous. And yet, why should she come ? Jt would
have been more to the point had they sent a troop
of experienced soldiers."

"Maybe so, and maybe not," said O'Meara, with
a wise shake of his head. " "f is my theory that the
most dangerous soldier in the world is not a sol-
dier at all, but a woman. What is it you'll be doing,
Sir John? You'll not let her put her head in-
side these doors, I'm thinking?"

"We will see what is in the wind," I answered.
"Let us go down into the court and set Pierre to
parleying with them across the moat."

The little party soon reached the castle, and made
known their desire for a conference by sounding a
horn. I sent Pierre to demand their business, and
that worthy presently returned with a puzzled face.

Sir John Hawkvvood 185

"It is my Lord Ranucio della Torre, Sir John
—the Prince's favorite," he told me. "He wants
speech with you, and begs permission to enter with
two of his party. He will tell me nothing of his
business."

O'Meara and I stared at each other, c.niiderably
mystified. However, in such an offer tlie risk lay
all on Della Torre's side, since three people would
be utterly at my mercy once they had entered the
castle. "Lower the draw-bridge and let them in,"
I commanded, "but take care that no more than
three pass the portcullis."

My orders were promptly obeyed, and a moment
later I heard the hoofs of the horses rattling on the
crazy draw-bridge. My troopers came thronging
into the court-yard in great excitement, and I let
them remain, not being averse to a display of
strength in the presence of the Prince's envoy.
There was much struggling and pressing and fight-
ing for place as the three visitors rode slowly in
among us.

Della Torre came first, a splendid sight, as al-
ways. He was superbly mounted, and dressed in
the same gold and scarlet habit which he had worn
the previous day at the hunt. I must do him the
justice, too, to admit that he showed not a little
courage, for though he and I were old enemies, and
the odds stood at present entirely on my side, he
appeared as serene and haughty as though he were
riding into the royal palace at Verona. I had seen

i86

Sir John Hawkwood

it! 1

very great gentlemen look less at ease when sur-
rounded by my grim- faced ruffians, and much as I
detested my Lord Ranucio I admitted inwardly that
he was no coward.

Madonna Violante followed him, glittering in
gold and purple, holding her head high and gazing
through us as if we did not exist. At sight of her
a cold shiver ran over me, a presentiment of evil.
I could have sworn that she had some evil purpose
in mind, and that harm to me would come of her
visit. And yet what harm could come? Truly, I
was growing womanish; I had never felt such
qualms on any former enterprise. Hastily I turned
to look at the third arrival, who proved to be no
other than Gianni Potrero.

There was a moment's silence, then I stepped for-
ward and swept off my plumed hat in a low bow.
"Welcome, my lady — welcome, my lord the favor-
ite, and you, sir knight of the noble order of bra-
voes!" I cried, saluting each in turn. "Truly, strange
things come to pass, do they not? Who would
have guessed that one day Sir John Hawkwood
would receive so noble a party in his own castle —
that the great Delia Torre would be kept waiting
at the moat? Well, and how can I serve you, that
you deign to flatter me by taking note of my exist-
ence ?"

Messer Gianni gave me a very black look and
muttered something inaudible, while Madonna Vio-
lante stared through me as though I were made of

Sir John Hawkwood 187

air. As for Delia Torre, he dismounted slowly,
came forward a step, and spoke in a remote indif-
ferent fashion. "Sir John Hawkwood," he said,
"I have not come here to talk of your mad and
fatal act, your seizure of the royal lady who is
cousin to the Prince of Verona. You know your
own motive in such a deed, you know the conse-
quences which must come of it— but all that you
will settle later with Prince Antonio. I have come
here to-day at my master's bidding to demand one
thing of you, which, if you possess any honor, you
cannot refuse."

"Well ?" I asked curtly. "Come to the point, man !
It is plainly to be seen you are no soldier, you waste
so much good time in words."

He flushed and gave me an angry glance. "Prince
Antonio is filled with anguish at the brutal seizure
of his cousin," he said, trying to resume his meas-
ured fashion of speech, "and is half-mad with anx-
iety for her welfare. If you are not false to your
vows of knighthood. Sir John, if you have any
spark of chivalry left in your nature, you will allow
Madonna Violante to speak alone with the Princess
and to learn from her own lips whether she has
come to any harm."

So this was their object ! I stood in silence for a
time, reflecting. Every instinct bade me refuse to
grant the interview, for I was sure that some deep
plot underlay the seemingly simple request. An
insistent inner voice told me plainly that I should

iM" ii

1 88 Sir John Hawkwood

do well to give them a curt refusal and send them
packing from the castle. And yet my reckless pride
would not allow it. I hated Delia Torre, I hated
Violante, and I would not have them think that I
feared them or anything that they mi^it do.

I turnea to O'Meara, who had stood at my el-
bow throughout the scene. "Go to the Princess," I
bade him, "tell her what has passed, and ask her if
it is her desire to speak with Madonna Violante. If
she wishes for an interview, the matter is all one
to me."

"I trust. Sir John, that this is not a trick," Delia
Torre sneered, as Michael left us. "I know some-
thing of that Irishman of yours— he would swear
black was white at your bidding. Perhaps he will
dally for a few minutes just within the castle door,
then return and inform us that the Princess has no
wish for our company !"

"Pray do not judge Messer O'Meara by yourself,
my lord !" I answered politely. "I am well aware
that it is your business to lie in your master's service,
and that you do it with great success ; but it is an
accomplishment that I have never required from my
followers."

A guffav/ from my troopers pointed the remark,
and increased Delia Torre's fury. He fingered his
sword-hilt, then controlled himself with an effort.
"You use insult safely, Sir John Hawkwood," he
told me, in a voice thickened with passion. "You
know very well that I cannot stoop to fight you."

Sir John Hawkwood

189

"Perhaps if Is more prudent in you to refrain,"
I mocked. "You remember, no doubt, how I served
your friend Lord Raimondo ; you have no taste for
a similar experience "

"I prefer to wait," he answered, white with fury,
"and see the business done by hands more fit than
mine to touch you. The Prince has some pleasant
plans for your end, Sir John. You recall how he
served the traitor Cagliari? Your deatii will be
more lingering still "

"He has not caught me yet," I pointed out. "Keep
your sympathy till it is needed, my good friend. Is
it the wheel he plans for me, or will he despatch me
secretly with a dagger-thrust? I have heard that
the latter is his favorite device. Was it not so that
you and he rid Verona of Bartolomeo della Scala?"
His pallor told me that the blow had gone home.
He recovered himself, however, and was about to
favor me with a fierce retort when O'Meara's voice
announced from behind us that the Princess desired
instant speech with Madonna Violante. I shrugged
my shoulders and bit my lip, for I had entertained a
feeble hope that she might refuse. She had no love
for the favorite's shrewd scheming wife, I was sure
of that, and would never have sought her company
in the days when she was safe in Verona ; but now,
imprisoned among wild free lances in a deserted cas-
tle, no doubt she turned with eagerness toward the
woman who came to her from her home. More-
over, I suspected — perhaps I was wrong, but I do

IQO

Sir John Hawkwood

not think so — that she possessed perversity enough
to take pleasure in sending a message likely to be
the contrary of what I would have desired.

Delia Torre went over to his wife, assisted her
gallantly to dismount, and offered her his arm to
lead her into the castle. I waved him back. "Messer
O'Meara will escort the Lady Violante to the Prin-
cess," I stated coldly. "You, my lord, will remain
here."

For the second time Delia Torre flinched. His
wife was the one person in the world for whom he
felt real tenderness, and to see her go without him
into a castle garrisoned with wild mercenaries hurt
him as few other things could have done. For an
instant I thought him about to refuse to let her go,
but she had no thought of retreat, and it was she
who ruled.

"What matter, my lord?" she said to her hus-
band, gently loosening his clasp. "I am not afraid.
Sir John Hawkwood, I see, enjoys the giving of or-
ders and the regulating of trifles. Well, surely it
would be cruel in us to deny him this pleasure —
he will have so short a time to play the master!"
She gave me a contemptuous glance, then swept into
the castle, her head high. I admitted inwardly
that Madonna Violante, also, was no coward.
O'Meara accompanied her, looking rather grim, and
displaying none of the extremely gallant air he
usually exhibited in the presence of a beautiful
lady.

Sir John Hawkwood 191

For a time there was silence save for the whis-
pers of my staring troopers. Delia Torre was ob-
viously uneasy, Messer Gianni in the sulks. Being
none too happy myself, I decided to divert my-
self with some further exchange of wit with these
two.

"Well, now, Potrero," I began, "tell me frankly,
as one soldier to another, did you not admire the
pretty fashion in which I seized your prey from un-
der your nose at the inn yesterday? Never look
so black — it was a fair fight. If you are a true
soldier you will never bear malice. On my honor,
I think I could not have done it more neatly,
could I?"

He scowled furiously. "He laughs best who
laughs last, Sir John," he muttered. "My day will
come, and very soon. Yes, you played me a pretty
trick, but for all that I would not like to stand in
your boots now !"

"You speak very mysteriously, I see you have a
plot in progress against me," I remarked. "Faith, I
am glad to be quit of the Veronese Court — never
did I see a place so full of plots; they make the
head of a plain blunt Englishman turn round. There
is Delia Torre, for instance. Two days ago he was
plotting with his wife to forge a packet in my hand,
convey it to the Prince's notice, and so convict me
of conspiracy with Padua and put me from his way
forever!'*

Delia Torre turned white as death and gazed at

192

Sir John Hawkwood

me as at an apparition from the grave. Taken ut-
terly by surprise, for once he showed V's true emo*
tions without concealment, and no one who saw
him then could have doubted his guilt for an in-
stant.

"You are mad!" he muttered through dry lips,
after a long moment of frightened silence which I
enjoyed to the full. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that a man should not plan such evil
tricks in an open loggia where he may well be
overheard," I answered airily. "There, pluck up
heart, man. It matters nothing whether I know
your plot or am in ignorance of it, for you will
not need it now — I have put myself from your way
of my own accord. You look extremely foolish,
Delia Torre. If the Prince could see you now I
think he would regret that he ever gave his favor to
a person who so much resembled an imbecile. Take
my counsel — if you must blacken your noble soul
with such schemes, at least school yourself to meet
discovery without such a look of guilt !"

"Keep your advice," he answered rudely, recover-
ing himself. "Do not waste your wits on me, you
will need them all before long to save yourself. It
is you that are the fool. Sir John Hawkwood. Had
you flattered the Prince and done all he bade you.
in time you might have risen to be his favorite —
you might have supplanted me, and ruled Verona!
Instead, you have chosen to stake your life on this
mad enterprise, the saints know why, and you will

Sir Jolm Ilawkwuod 193

come to such an end as will make you envy the
traitor Cagliari !"

"That is as may be," I answered, shruggiii).^
"Whatever my fate proves I shall never envy you,
my Lord Ranucio. But here is Madonna Violante
returned to bear witness that I have not cut the
Princess' throat or robbed her of her jewels."

Delia Torre's wife paused beside us, as calm and
composed as ever. "The Princess is unhurt," she
said to her husband, "and has met with no injury
save the outrage of the seizure, for which this man
must answer to the Prince. Come, we have done
our errand, let us get back to Verona."

Delia Torre helped her to l:er horse, mounted his
own, and made me a low and mocking bow.. "Fare-
well, Sir John," he sneered. "We give you thanks
for your court«sy. When we meet again, I think
we shall stand on a very different footing!"

"Since truthfulness and plain-speaking are a sol-
dier's virtues," I answered coolly, "I must tell you
with all frankness that it would not greatly dis-
please me were we never to meet again."

"I believe it," he cried, with a mocking laugh,
"but the Prince desires otherwise— and the Prince's
will be done, say I !" Again he saluted me, and they
moved slowly out of the court-yard.

I turned to O'Meara. "She did not come here to
pass the time of day with the Princess," I said, knit-
ting my brows. "Why did she come, then? What
have they got in their minds?"

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194

Sir John Hawkwood

He shook his head. "Sorra the day, I've no pow-
er to read thoughts; but it's mischief," he said posi-
tively. "Ah, I hate her, that woman. Were I
Delia Torre, I would have cut her throat the day
after the wedding, except for the fact that I would
never have wedded her at all!"

11 !

bii

u: }

CHAPTER XII

THE WAITING

Thb day passed uneventfully, and the night, and
the next day. I began to doubt my senses. Was
it possible that Antonio della Scala meant to make
no move to rescue his cousin and take vengeance on
me? I had thought that long before this a strong
body of troopers, under Potrero or another of his
sort, would have swooped down upon me and given
me an evil hour by storming my walls. Instead, I
was left in undisturbed possession, and the peaceful
visit of Della Torre and his wife had been the only
notice given to the Princess' capture. I held many a
conference with O'Meara on the subject, and for
once that ready-witted Irishman owned himself
completely at a loss and unable to suggest a solution.
^I tried to cheer myself with all manner of rea-
soning, but when all was said and done the fact
remained that I was not satisfied. Under this in-
activity lay something that menaced me—some-
thing that I would learn when it was too late.

Madonna Violante's coming had one visible re-
sult; it wrought a change in the Princess' behavior.
Hardly had the little troop ridden away from the

196

f !

'Bf

196

Sir John Hawkwood

castle when she sent for me, and asked me, with
the stiflfness of one more accustomed to command-
ing ihan to entreating, if I would not cease to keep
her behind a bolted door. "You are shrewd enough
to know. Sir John, that two helpless girls cannot fly
across a moat," she said, with some scorn, "and
therefore you surely need not fear to let us go
where we please within the castle walls. I am
not accustomed to imprisonment, and it wearies me.
As for Madonna Francesca, she is pining like a bird
in a cage."

I was willing enough to grant her request, for,
now that my men believed they were to gain a rich
reward for taking her to Padua, she was quite safe
from any molestation at their hands. "Surely, Prin-
cess, go where you please," I answered. "I would
have given you the freedom of the castle sooner had
I guessed you would care to wander about it."

She shrugged slightly. "There is small good in
moping over what cannot be helped," she said coldly.
"Very soon my cousin will free me from this hateful
prison, but in the meantime I know not why I should
sicken myself by staying within four walls. Come,
Francesca, we will go on the battlements and breathe
spring air again, since our gaoler is pleased to be
merciful." She passed me with the hint of a scorn-
ful curtsy, and Francesca followed her out to the
stairs.

After that they roamed the castle at their will,
much to my amazement, for I would never have

Sir John Hawkwood

197

guessed that one so proud as the Princess would
have chosen to go about among such men as my
free companions. More than once I found her ques-
tioning one of them in her haughty fashion, and
getting answers that were roughly civil. Most of
the time she sat on the battlements gazing off in
the direction of Verona. O'Meara was often with
them, for the sight of Francesca seemed to draw
him like a magnet ; and though the Princess treated
him very coldly at first, I think she ended by liking
him, as indeed few people in the world could have
failed to do after a brief acquaintance.

As for me, I held to myself, and spent my time
in solitude. If there were hours when I longed to
join the group, if at times the Princess' proud pale
face beckoned me even as Francesca's merry mock-
ing eyes drew the Irishman, I was too proud to yield.
She scorned me and distrusted me, when I was
freely risking my life to help her. Very good, she
should not have my hateful company to endure. I
preferred to pass lonely hours in the castle hall,
thinking of many things, wishing vaguely that I
might wipe out ten years of my life and live them
over in a different fashion. Then the sound of
O'Meara's rollicking: tones raised in song would
come to me from the distance, followed by Fran-
cesca's merry laugh, or sometimes by a few words in
a sweet proud voice that I knew for Madonna Gi-
ulia's. Oh, I was not too happy, and if there were
sins in my life I think I paid the price of them in

198

Sir John Hawkwood

those days when I held the Princess prisoner for the
sake of her own good.

It was near nightfall of the second day, and I
was stretched on the edge of the battlements, star-
ing gloomily across the country. The first hint of
dusk had come, and the sun was setting gloriously
in the distance, "^or hours I had been struggling
fiercely with the Ir .ging to see the Princess, and now
it seemed to me that I could resist no longer. I
cursed myself angrily for a fool. If I went to her,
what would I gain save a few such scornful words
as she might throw to a lackey? Far better to stay
alone, to save at least a shred 01 dignity in her eyes
by showing her that I did not thrust myself into her
presence when she had plainly shown me her con-
tempt. And yet, even as I told myself this, I got to
my feet and went slowly into the castle.

There were voices in the room that opened from
the gallery, and I paused at the door, still silently
urging myself to play the man and remain apart.
They had not seen me, they were intent on each

other. I could pass on unnoticed. Yet I did not

I stood there motionless, gazing at the Princess, who
sat by the window with the last light of the sun
falling across her dark hair.

She was thinking deeply, it appeared, for her face
was turned away from O'Meara and Francesca. My
heart beat more quickly as I looked at her. She
was the loveliest woman in the world, I thought.

r I

Sir John Hawkwcxxi

199

and the farthest from me by birth and nature.
Why was I standing there with my eyes glued to her
face? It gave me no pleasure, only suffering, and
I would do better to go see if my men were keeping
their watch.

"And so, glory be," O'Meara concluded, with
great enthusiasm, "we drove them flying before us
into the back of beyant, and the day was ours — and
all thanks to Sir John !"

The Princess turned slowly toward him. "You
think him a great man, this master of yours?" she
asked, with somerscorn in her voice. Her tone hurt
me. I cursed myself for remaining, yet could not
tear myself away.

"Was it master you said. Princess?" O'Meara
demanded, turning to her with ready good-fellow-
ship. He was equally at ease with a king or with
a beggar; rank had no terrors for him. "No, you're
wrong to use that word. There's no man in all
this broad beautiful earth of ours that can call him*
self master of an O'Meara. My family doesn't
take kindly to masters ; and as for my country, bless
you, I believe it began struggling against them be-
fore ever it was created! An angel straight from
heaven couldn't suit Ireland as a king, and that's
the truth. But if you mean the finest general that
ever stepped, the rarest leader, the best friend and
greatest soldier — bedad, it's perfect he'd be if he'd
only had the good luck to be born in ould Ireland —

ill i

200 Sir John Havvkwood

if you mean Sir John Havvkwood, Princess, why
then, yes, I'm thinking he's the greatest man I've
ever known or ever will know !"

I had dragged myself a few paces from the door,
repeating again and again that I must not enter.
Francesca's pretty voice came to me faintly as she
broke in. "At first I hated your captain," she told
him, "but now there are times when I think he does
not appear altogether evil. He has the look of
one who suffers for his sins "

"You are mad, child," cried the Princess. "He
has taken us prisoners, dragged us from home, and
you defend him! Think of the tales they tell of
him in Verona — a ruffian, a cutthroat, drinking in
taverns, quarreling in the streets, swearing and buf-
feting, ruling his men by terror !" She broke off as
if in utter distaste for my many crimes.

I squared my shoulders and threw back my head.
My hesitation was at an end. Come what might of
it, I would see her and talk with her, though
Heaven knew what I could say, for her charges were
all true enough, and I had no intention of denying
them.

"That's as unjust a speech as ever you uttered in
all your life. Madonna," cried my faithful com-
rade. "You've heard these tales from Court fops,
I'll swear — jackdaws not fit to touch Sir John's
shoes. 'Tis easy enough for men who never fought
in their lives to speak ill of a great soldier, but let
them once try to equal what he's done and they'll

Sir John Hawkwood

201

change their tune, the jewels! And by the same
token," he continued, much excited, " 'tis blithe I'd
be to set them in the midst of a bloody battle, with
the odds all against them and the day well-nigh
lost, and then see if they'd be after knowing the
way to bring order from slaughter and victory from
despair, as I've seen Sir John do more times than I
could count "

"There, Michael, you have chanted my praises
enough," I said, and they started as I strode across
the room. "I have just come from the battlements,
where the evening breeze is very soft and sweet.
Madonna Francesca, I am sure, would enjoy it
greatly if you took her there to walk."

Francesca, I thought, felt no great distaste for
the proposal; but she evidently considered it due
herself to crush me for my presumption. "I will
go if the Princess desires me to leave her, and not
otherwise, Sir John," she answered saucily, with a
fling of her head.

Madonna Giulia folded her hands in her lap and
assumed a look of proud endurance. "Have you
not learned yet, child," she asked, "that Sir John
Hawkwood is the master here, and that we needs
must do as he wills? What matter whether I de-
sire you to go or stay, if he bids you go?"

"You wrong me, Princess," I said, looking at her
straightly. "Do me the justice to admit that hitherto
I have not once entered your presence save when
you have sent to bid me come. If you desire it I

202

Sir John Hawkwood

.lA ]

• ii

will leave you now — you are the mistress, and may
command."

"I had not guessed it," she retorted. "But there,
what matter? Go, Francesca, and I will stay to
hear what ovr gaoler desires to tell me."

Francesca went out readily enough, O'Meara fol-
lowing her in unmistakable rapture at the prospect
of an interview in which to urge his suit. The
Princess and I kept silence for a time, then slie
turned her head and looked at me. "Perhaps, Sir
John," she said, "you have thought better of my of-
fer to out-bid the Duke of Padua ? Is it of that you
wish to speak ?"

"No," I answered grimly. Why had I sought
speech with one who had such power to hurt me
with every word ?

"It would have been better for you had you ac-
cepted that offer when I made it," she murmured,
and I thought there was a tinge of regret in her
voice. "Now I shall escape in spite of you, and
the Prince will not show you any mercy."

"I do not need his mercy yet," I answered more
cheerfully, "and I hope that I never shall."

We were silent again. I turned and walked the
length of the room twice or thrice, seeking for
words to express the things I wished to tell her.
Looking up suddenly, I caught her regarding me
with a gaze that held reluctant pity. One might
have thought her in possession of some secret knowl-
edge that assured her of ultimate escape and venge-

Sir John Hawkwoocl

203

ance. My thoughts went back to Violante's strange
visit, and I wondered anew what would come of it
in the future. Then I forgot all else in the con-
sciousness of Madonna Giulia's softer attitude to-
ward me, the sadder look in her proud eyes, the
gentler curve of her scarlet lips. Let come what
might, for the present it was enough to be close
beside her, and to know that she was not watch-
ing me with the cold disdain I had learned to
dread.

I leaned on the wall and watched her. I could
have touched her hair by stretching out my hand,
and the thought made my heart beat fast. For the
present I had no wish to speak. Words might stir
her to anger and resentment, and this I could not
bear to risk, for some inner voice told me unerringly
that at this instant she did not hate me. It would
be a remembrance that would never leave me while
I lived — the bare room, the twilight shade, the
sweet scent of spring drifting through the window,
and the Princess and I side by side, with no bit-
terness in our hearts and no hard words on our
lips. I had not hoped for even so much happiness.

Madonna Giulia leaned her head against the wall
and looked absently across the room. It was she
who broke the long silence, and I started, fearing an
angry word; but her voice was curiously sad and
gentle. "I wonder why you ever came to Italy, Sir
John," she said, as if to herself. "I wonder what
evil fate ever brought you to Verona."

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204 Sir John Hawkvvood

I did not understand her meaning, but I smiled a
little in the gathering gloom. It was not all an evil
fate that had brought me to Verona, since it had
given me the chance to strike a blow for the Prin-
cess, and to enjoy these few moments of peaceful
happiness. I did not answer her, lest my voice
should break the spell.

"You fought bravely in France," she went on,
"you won a knight's spurs, all men honored you.
What trick of destiny turned you into a mercenary
and set your feet in such a path as this? Now
you will come to a most cruel end, you that might
have lived out a long and honored life in your own
land. It is a sad thought, and against my will it
hurts me."

"I too have often wondered why fate played such
tricks with me," I answered soberly, "and have
cursed destiny and myself. But now. Princess, I am
content. I grudge nothing now." She would not
understand, I knew ; for my meaning was that had
I lived oitt a calm happy life in England I would
not now be standing between her and Antonio della
Scala, the one defense that kept her evil kinsman
from her. Surely this was payment enough for all
the sufferings of my life.

The trouble in her beautiful face was growing
steadily. She clasped her hands and pressed them
against her heart. "There is something under all
this that I cannot understand," she said, looking at
me strangely. "There is more in you than I can

Sir John Hawkwood 205

read, Sir John. I have felt it from the first, and
struggled against the belief, and tried to think you
entirely evil. But to-night— when it is too late— I
find myself douoting and regretting." The pride
was all gone from her eyes now, and only anxiety
remained. "Sir John." she said in a low uncertain
voice, "tell me the truth. Tell me why you brought
me to this place."

^^ "Will you hear me without anger?" I asked.
"Will you listen with an open mind to a stranee
story ?"

She bowed her head. "I will try," she an-
swered.

"Then you shall hear," said 1, "and I swear by
the soul of the Black Prince that I will say no word
that is not the truth."

(•

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CHAPTER XIII
For i,ove of a woman

For a time there was silence in the dim room,
while I gathered my thoughts and tried to still the
l)eating of my heart, and the Princess sat motion-
less, gazing at me with that strange look of trouble
always in her eyes. At last I spoke.

"Before I tell you why I brought you here," I
said, "there is something else that you should know
—something that has ruled my actions for a long
time, that has led us both where we stand to-night,
Will you listen, Princess?"

"Yes," she said, in a low voice.

"I have been in Verona for some eight months,"
I began. "I came here for no love of the Scaligeri,
but because Prince Antonio offered me good pay-
ment for my sword. You know what I am — a free
companion, wandering where my service takes me,
fighting for now one man and now another. It is
not a very noble profession, though as I have prac-
ticed it there is no dishonesty in the trade. As
for the life I have led, you know that too— I should
be foolish to defend it. I heard you tell O'Meara
what you held me— a swaggering cutthroat, a
drunken mercenary."

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Sir John Hawkwood 207

"Perhaps," she said, wistfully, "1 did you
wrong.*'

"No, you were right," I answered, for I had
sworn a solemn oath that she should hear only the
truth from my lips. "I was what you thought me—
though I think that now I am somewhat better.
Well, T came to Verona and entered the Prince's ser-
vice. One day I went to the palace to take leave
of him before marching for an attack on a Paduan
fortress. I was bidden to come to him in his
closet, and on my way there I passed through the
great hall of stat?. It was full of courtiers, who
were laughing, dicing, whispering in the ears of
ladies. I strode through them all in contempt,
thinking of how little use they would be in battle,
pitted against my wild free lances. And then, sud-
denly, I saw you for the first time."

A startled look crossed her face. "You saw—
me ?" she murmured.

"Yes," I said, "I saw you, standing in the alcove
of a window, with a jewelled lute in your hands.
You wore a dress the color of dull gold, and had
pearls on your neck and in your hair. A little
crowd of gentlemen were all about you, and you
were singing a soft catch of song. I could repeat
it word for word ; it has rung in my ears ever since,
in battle, in quiet, even in my dreams. When you
had finished all the room applauded you, and you
smiled in a proud indifferent fashion and tossed the
lute away, As you did so our eyes met. I suppose

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Sir John Hawkwood

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you noted me no more than if I had been a picture
on the wall, but it was otherwise with me. I went
on into the Prince's closet, and he was greatly an-
gered because I seemed to pay no heed to what he
told me Faith, I could not have listened to him
then had he possessed the tongue of an angel !"

The Princess had straightened herself slightly.
"I do not understand, Sir John," she said, with
pride and displeasure entering her voice once more.
"You are surely wasting words. What matter when
you saw me first ?"

"Be patient, Princess," I answered, with a slow
smile. "When you know the truth you will see
that I deserve some kindness from you — and I ask
as my reward only this one hour, and the right to
tell you freely what is in my heart."

She sank back in her seat, looking at me with
the same strange air of perplexity and trouble.

"As time went on," I continued, "I saw you
of*en. Many a time you passed me on the streets,
riding out to the hunt, or with a falcon on your
wrist. Sometimes I saw you in the palace garden,
walking among the flowers, or plucking roses and
lilies. More than once I watched when the Prince
led you out to dance. And always, always, from
the first moment when my eyes fell on you, I loved
you with my whole unworthy heart."

"Sir John Hawkwood !" she cried sharply. "How
dare you say such words? How dare you speak of
love to me? You, a mercenary, an adventurer!"

Sir John Hawkwood 209

Her softness was gone now, and the scornful lady
of the past looked at me once more from her lovely
face.

"Yes, a mercenary, an adventurer, unworthy, God
knows, to touch your finger," I answered soberly.
"But yet a lover, worshipping you with as deep and
revereni an affection as any crowned king or mighty
hero aver gave his lady. I had no thought that you
wouM ever learn it, no hope that I might ever win
you. I believed that I would never even stand face
to face with you and change words on indifferent
subjects. Knowing well how far I stood below you,
I had no wish to lower you by any contact with me.
And yet whenever I might I gazed on you from a
distance, and suffered silently, and endured proudly
— and loved you with all my heart, with all my
heart!"

"You loved me — you ? A tanner's son?" she cried.
It seemed to me that now there was less anger
in her tones, though she strove hard to make them
cruel.

"I am the son of a tanner," I answered, "yet I
love you as never man loved woman before! I
could recount to you the tale of each day I saw you.
Once as I passed you a clasp fell from your sleeve,
and I raised it and placed it in your hand. You
thanked me coldly, not glancing at me, and my heart
beat until it hurt my side. Since the day when first
I saw you, your face has been before me always. I
saw it in camp when I lay before the fire, and longed

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to sleep, and could not for the pain in my soul. I
saw it as I rode into battle, and it so maddened me
that at times I prayed for a straight sword-thrust
to end my useless life and all its agony. Night and
day I saw you, in the streets, in the palace, in the

conflict, in the open country "

"Say rather in the tavern!" she mocked disdain-
fully. But her voice was faint now.

"Yes, in the tavern, too," I said, "when I sat over
the cups till dawn. Does that offend you? It is
true. And many a night I drank till I lost all knowl-
edge, only because the dull pain in my heart was
beyond my bearing, and I could not endure the
proud indifferent gaze your eyes turned on me.
You were part of my life, Princess— you were with
me in my best moments and in my worst ones. You
have made me pay for all my sins, never doubt it.
When I thought of what you were, and of what I
was, and how far I had fallen from what I might
have been, then do you think I did not suffer?"

She did not sp(dak. She was staring at me, her
face very pale in the gloom. Night was coming
fast, and I could see her only with dimness now.

"There is no need that you should feel anger at
me," I toH her gently. "My love never harmed
you. It harmed no one save myself, and even to
me it has brought great good. Do you think, Ma-
donna GiuHa, that I would have had it otherwise?
I would rather suffer for your sake than be happy
because I had never seen you. And I have known

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Sir John Havvkwood 2H

happy hours, too. Will you hate me if I tell you
this? Well, I must take the risk, since I have sworn
to tell the truth. Sometimes I lay by the camp fire
at midnight and dreamed that I was a great prince,
and free to tell you of my love. I pictured myself
wedded to you, setting a crown on your head and
a sceptre in your hands, pouring out jewels at your
feet— or carving you out a great empire with my
sword! Are you angered now? There is worse
to be told— I had a still dearer dream. Sometimes
I pictured what I well knew could never be, what I
would not have had be for your sake. I dreamed
that if you knew me, and learned to love me, out of
the nobleness of your heart you might find the power
to toss away rank and greatness, and gladly give
yourself to a poor soldier of fortune who stood
alone save for his sword. I saw myself shield you
and protect you, and make poverty so sweet a thing
that you would never look back with longing to the
days when you reigned a Princess. I saw you learn
that want, sweetened by love, is far happier than
state and power without it. I pictured us all alone,
you and I, hand in hand, walking through life, well
contented since we had each other. Was not that a
foolish dream. Madonna Giulia? Yet it was so
dear to me that I could not tear it from mv
heart." '

The room was dark now, and I could see nothing
but the dim outline of her form. She did not speak
as I paused, and I was glad, for I had not dared to

212

Sir John Havvkwood

Si,

hope that she would hear my tale with so much pa-
tience.

"I had a third dream," I said slowly. "Sometimes
I thought that, since I could never possess you, it
would be the crown df my life if I might die in
doing you some service. I was accustomed to hold
this the most foolish of all my vain imaginings. You
were rich and great and powerful, and I was the
captain of a rough band of free companions. What
service could the Princess Giulia ever need from
Sir John Hawkwood? And yet at last the time
has come when I can serve you, and I do it gladly
and proudly; and if I die in the enterprise, I will die
in the most worthy act of all my life. First I must
g.., you into safety, then I care not a jot what may
come— it would be as well that my life should end
with its best deed."

"End !" She breathed the word so softly that I
hardly heard it.

"You will think," I said in a low voice, "that my
love was a poor thing, since it made me no better
than I was before — since, seeing your face in my
dreams, I still continued to haunt the taverns, to
game and dice and brawl like any bully of the
streets. But it was love thaj drove me to all this,
love and the desperate knowledge that my longing
was altogether hopeless. I raged against fate, and
my anger drove me to many evil things, and day
by day I made myself more and more unworthy of
a glance from your eyes. But all this passed away

Sir John Hawkwood 213

in the instant that I found I was to have the chance
of serving you. In one short night I became an-
other man, my old self fell away from me like a
husk, I went back ten long years and became again
the man who fought at Poictiers with the Black
Prince. Since I have brought you here to the cas-
tle I have not been the mercenary who served An-
tonio della Scala at Verona, or the bravo who fought
Raimondo del Mayno in the loggia and turned him
into mockery throughout the city. I have been an
English knight once more. It is true that from time
to time I have assumed the manners of my old self,
because so alone could I rule my men for your
service and assure your safety; but it has been a
matter of the surface only, underneath I have been
diflFerent. I am changed, Princess, and through my
love."

In the pause there was a sound of stumbling steps
outside, and Pierre came in from the gallery bear-
ing ligh... The blackness of the room flamed sud-
denly into brightness, and I saw something that
made my heart leap. Pierre set the candles down,
then stood staring stupidly until I curtly bade him
begone, when he clattered out noisily and stumbled
off down the dark stairs.

The Princess was lying back in her chair, her
face hidden in her arms, her shoulders shaken.
She was not angered at me for my presumption,
not embittered at my daring — she was weeping as if
her heart would break. What had I done to woun 1

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Sir John Hawkwood

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her? I cursed myself for a rough fool who had no
place among women, and racked my brains for a
way to soothe her.

"Are you weeping because you pity me, Madon-
na?" I asked, thrilling with joy despite myself at
the thought. "There is no need. God knows I had
not meant to pain you. See you, although my love
is mad and hopeless it has done great good, for it
has wakened me and changed me, and brought me
back to that part of myself which has lain dead
for many years. For as long as I may live now
I can never be again what I was a week ago ; I can
never again sink to be the cutthroat bully that I was
in Verona. I am changed and wakened, and through
my love."

She said nothing, and I crossed the room and
fell on one knee beside her. "You have brought
back the old Sir John Hawkwood, Princess," I said,
"and I thank you, and am your servant for as long
as my life shall last." I gently raised one of her
hands from where it lay against the chair, and
touched it to my lips. It had the chill of death.

"That is all," I said cheerfully, stepping back.
"I thank you for your patient hearing, which will be
a sweet memory to me in days to come, when I am
far from you and may not see your face. Now I
will tell you what chanced in Verona a few days
since, and why I brought you here to save you from

Antonio della Scala "

"No, no, do not tell me ! Ah, what matter now !"

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Sir John Hawkwood 215

The Princess had sprung up from her chair
and was facing me, white as death, and with such
terror and anguish in her eyes as made me cold with
horror.

••What is it?" I cried. "What is it. Madonna?"

"I did not know!" she cried pitifully, appealing
to me as if for pardon. "I did not know — you
never told me ! Ah, why did I not hear you patiently
on the first night you brought me here? Now it is
too late, and there is no help "

"What is it?" I cried again, frightened by the
look of pale anguish on her face.

••They are coming!" she wailed, throwing her
arm across her eyes. "They are coming! Within
the hour they will be here!"

CHAPTER XIV

THK SCARP WITH THE GOLD FLOWERS

For a moment I stood staring at her, too dazed
for words. At last the meaning of her warning
burst on my clouded wits, and I sprang forward
and caught her by the hand. "Be calm, Madonna
Giulia," I said quietly, though my blood was all on
fire. "Be quite calm— whatever comes, no harm
shall touch you. Bo you mean that Antonio della
Scala is co;.,Ing here to-night?"

She uncovered her eyes and looked wildly at me,
and the sight of her anguish moved me as the
thought of danger could never have done. "Yes,"
she murmured, half inaudibly.

"But how can you know that? Who has told
you ?" I asked, in utter amazement.

"Madonna Violante," she answered, with tears of
despair running down her cheeks. "She came here,
and you let her see me, and together we formed the
plot. You can do nothing, they will be here within
the hour!"

In an instant all was clear to me. "Ah!" I cried,
with a sudden sharp, unreasonable bitterness gnaw-
ing at my heart, "you plotted this with Madonna

216

Sir John Hawkwood 217

Violante — ^you told me nothing of it ! You did not
trust me ever so little, Princess, and yet I was freely
risking my life to do you service !"

Every vestige of her pride and scorn had left her.
She looked at me with the pale desperate face of
a suflFering child. "I did not know that you loved
me, that you wished to help me!" she wailed, her
hands stretched out in prayer for pardon. "You
had not told me this. I had heard you say that
you would sell me to Francesco Carrara to fill
your purse and the purses of your bravoes. Ma-
donna Violante told me that I was not safe when
in your hands ; she said that one day you would boast
that you had won my favor, as you boasted now
of tavern girls and camp women "

"Do you not know that Ranucio della Torre and
his wife would lie away their souls if they could
gain thereby?" I said sternly, white with anger at
what they had put in her thoughts concerning me.
"Do you trust them? Do you know me so little,
when I have striven so hard to serve you?"

"You had not spoken then," she repeated drear-
ilv. "I did not know. Ah, what have I done. Sir
John?"

"No great harm, save that by your mistrust you
have hurt me," I answered, forcing myself to cheer-
fulness. "Let them come, they shall not get you!
My free lances, whom you rightly consider evil-faced
fellows enough, have yet one great virtue, they can
hold a castle or a city in the teeth of the devil, if

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Sir John Hawkwood

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need be. Cheer yourself. I will go prepare, and we
will give Antonio dclla Scala such a welcome as will
be little to his fancy." I swung on my heel with a
laugh, for the prospect of a fight was sweet to me
at all times, and I was not loth to show the Princess
that, though not a noble and her peer, I was at least
a brave soldier.

She caught my arm. "Oh, you do not under-
stand. It is useless, you can do nothing. They
will not attack the castle walls— they have a surer
way to make their entrance. I have killed you, Sir
John, when you were striving hard to serve me.
All my life I shall have your blood on my hands
and your death on my soul !"

A wild triumph filled me at the words, for now
I saw that she trusted me. After all, what else
mattered, if she believed in my good faith? "Tell
me all, Madonna," I said, striving to force my
thoughts to the matter in hand. "Never fear, I
will find a way to outwit them."

"You cannot," she moaned, and hid her face
again. "Antonio knows this castle well ; it was his
stronghold before he left it for a place more secure.

He knows the secret passage "

"The passage!" My voice was steady on the
words, but my heart was beating faster.

"Yes, yes. There is an underground passage that
crosses beneath the moat and opens through a mov-
ing block of stone in the castle store-room. They
can enter it through a great hollow oak in the wood

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Sir John Hawkwood 319

yonder. It is an old trick of the place, and has been
tried many times in the past. Do you see now?
They will come and take you, and I have doomed
you to certain death 1" She looked at me with hope-
less eyes.

I understood. For a moment I remained lost in
reluctant admiration for the shrewd scheme, but
this sentiment was soon banished by the thought of
our great danger. "No matter, Madonna Giulia,"
I said cheerfully. "I have seen more desperate af-
fairs than this. Wait here in peace and ease of mind
while I go summon my men, and we will barricade

the entrance to the passage "

She shook her head with a moan. "It is too late.
How can I tell you what I have done? I begged
you to give me the freedom of the castle only that
I might get speech with your men, and I bribed
your fellow Jacques— the soldier whom you beat on

the morning of the mutiny "

"Yes," I said. "Go on. Princess." I knew now
that the matter was desperate, but if my wild life
had done me no other good it had at least given
me the power of meeting danger with coolness, and
my voice was calm and unhurried. She looked at
me in amazement.

"Do you not understand?" she cried. "I have
brought you to ruin. The man was embittered
against you; he was eager for revenge. I bribed
him with the jewels I wore and a promise of gold
in the future, and he helped me."

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^20 Sir John Hawk-vood

"I understand," I answered. "What did he do?
Tell nie in as few words as may be."

"He has taken off the stones from the mouth of
the passage, and left it free for my cousin's men,"
she answered. "None went near the room, he was
free to work there all day. He has pried loose the
door, so that you may not cut off their entrance by
locking it. He has done what you cannot repair
by hours of work— and at any instant we may hear
the cries of my cousin's men! They will kill you;
they will cut you down before my eyes, or worse,
they will take you back to Verona and end your
life by torture. Why do you not curse me. Sir
John?"

She had taken my wild look for anger, and small
blame to her. My calm was gone. Jacques had
made an entrance for Antonio's men, and had ruined
my scheme for the saving of Antonio's cousin. I
could not hold the castle now ; she was doomed.

"Curse you, child?" I said at last, and my voice
had a strange hoarse note that I had never hev.nl
in it before, but which I had heard in the voices
of men who turned cowards at thj pinch. The
sound shamed me, and yet I swear I felt no fear
for myself and took no thought for my own life.
All my mind was set on her. "Why should I curse
you? I am trying to devise a way to save you.
This is a terrible thing that you have done so inno-
cently. It will bring you great trouble "

"To me !" the Princess cried, raising her face in

Sir John Hawkwood 22 1

a bewilderment that drowned her terror. "What
harm can come to me? Are you mad, Sir John? I
shall be safe among my own people ; it is you that
will be in the hands of your foes "

"Vou do not understand. You know nothing."
I said dully. "Can you not see that there were two
plots woven about you? The day I carried you
from the inn to the castle here, Gianni Potrero was
hard upon my heels. He had been minded to do the
same thing— and by the Prince's orders."

"The Prince's orders 1 And why?" she cried,
staring.

"Because you would not wed him when he wooed
you," I muttered, not thinking of what I said, only
wondering how I was to save her. "He planned that
you should be carried off by Gianni Potrero, who
was to make pretense at holding you for ransom.
Later you were to be rescued by the Prince, and he
fancied that you would feel much gratitude and ad-
miration for him, and listen more willingly to his
suit. I overheard the plot in the palace loggia, and
planned to save you by taking you to the Duke of
Padua. Do you understand now?"

She did not answer me, and I turned to look at
her, struck by her silence. She could have turned
no whiter than she was before, but all her strength
seemed gone, and she swayed and fell limply into
her chair. She believed me— she took my state-
ment without question, though it concerned her own

^22 Sir John Havvkwood

cousin. Even in this desperate pass I felt a reclc-
less triumph in the thought.

"Yes," she breathed, struggling hard for compos-
ure. "Yes, I understand at last. In an hour I shall
be in Antonio della Scala's hands and at his mercy
in this wild lonely place. V/hat will become of me
when he finds that I have lo gratitude for him,
that I am not duped, that I fear and loathe him?
He will have me in his power, Sir John, do you
hear? Oh, always I have known that he was an
evil rnan, though for the sake of our common blood
I have struggled hard to think otherwise ! And of
late I have had a horror of him ; when he wooed me
the ghost of dead Bartolomeo rose between us; I
fancied I saw blood upon his hands ! He has sworn
to wed me, and to-night 1 will be in his power!"
She drew herself up with a gesture of desperate
pride. "Heaven help me, am I going to play the
coward, I who have been so suie of my courage?
Am I going to be false to my blood and weep like
any peasant because danger threatens? Oh, I am
ashamed. Sir John — I have ruined you and brought
you to your death, and now I am cold with fear
of my cousin and what may come to me when you
are slain!"

I had scarcely been listening, so intent was I on
finding a way out of the danger. Think as I might,
rack my brains as much as I chose, I could plan
nothing save to barricade the room into which the
secret passage opened, and hold it as best I could;

Sir J hn Hawkwood 223

and this would prove efficacious only for a brief
time, as I very well knew. But now, suddenly a
new thought flashed into my head, and I wheeled' to
face the Princess with an exclamation of joy.

She misunderstood me. "You do not care what
may come to me, then ?" she cried bitterly. "It does
not distress you that I shall fall into my cousin's
power? Ah! then all this talk of love with which
you entertained me a few moments since was but a
cheat?"

"No, Princess," I answered quietly. "I love you,
and it is for me to save you—and so I shall do, with
God's help. Be calm now, waste no time in fear,
for we shall be hard pressed to carry out my scheme
before Antonio comes."

"You will save me?" she cried incredulously.
Voices and laughter came to us from without.
Francesca and her Irish lover were returning from
the battlements, and from the snatches of their talk
which floated down I gathered that he was eloquently
importuning her for a kiss, which she coyly, but
by no means indignantly, refused to grant. A mo-
ment later they were in the room, and the laughter
died on their lips as they gazed from the Princess*
white face to my grim set one.

"What's gone amiss. Sir Johi ' O'Meara cried,
springing forward and catching me by the arm.

I laid my hand on his shoulder and drew him to
me. "Michael," I said soberly, "you are the one
friend I have in all the world. I have trusted you

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Sir John Hawkvvood

for years, though I trust no one else on earth. You
would not refuse me anything on which my heart
was set, would you, 1 d?"

He looked bewildered and somewhat emotional.
"Faith, and I think you've got no need to ask that,"
he answered, almost angrily. "It's ask and have.
Sir John. Tell me to go to Verona and strike the
Prince across the face, or to besiege the city walls
all alone, and I'll not say no "

"I am sure of that," I answered, keeping my
hold on his shoulder. "But would you do some-
thing harder, Michael ? Would you turn your back
on a deadly fight for my sake, and ride for safety
as fast as ever your horse could take you?"

The Irishman's expressive features twisted in an
obvious struggle. " 'Tis a deal to ask of any man,
and above all of one of my country," he cried, "but
bedad, I love you so well I believe I'd be after doing
even that if you asked it! But you'll not ask it,
will you. Sir John, dear?" he pleaded, in manifest
alarm.

"I must, Michael," I answered. He was staring
at me now with his mouth fallen open. Francesca,
conscious that an evil moment was upon us, had run
to the Princess and put her arms about her. "An-
tonio della Scala is to come here within the hour,
and will enter by a secret passage that runs beneath
the moat. We cannot resist him, therefore we
must not let him find the Princess here. I had
meant, as you know, to remain here until a strong

Sir John Hawkwood 225

troop of Florentines might escort Madonna Giulia
safely across the Paduan boundaries, but since this
is impossible you must take her to-night— at once.
You shall have twenty men; it is not a great num-
ber, but I can do nothing better for you. Ride
as if the devil were at your heels, cut through any
obstacles that cross your way, never draw rein for
an instant till you reach Padua and Duke Fran-
cesco. Is it clear in your mind what you have in
hand?"

"And what of yourself meanwhile. Sir John.^"
said O'Meara, in a very low voice.

"Oh, I shall have plenty to do, never doubt it," I
answered cheerfully. "I will remain here and hold
the castle as long as may be against the Prince,
that he may believe Madonna Giulia is still here,
and make no move to pursue her. That should give
you so good a start that you cannot be overtaken."

"Yes, we should get away safely," said O'Meara,
vaguely and indifferently, as if he cared little wheth-
er they did or not. "But you? 'Tis signing your
own death-warrant you are "

"Hush !" I whispered fiercely, with a glance at the
Princess. He broke off and stood silent, very pale,
biting at his lip. I went over to Madonna Fran-
cesca and spoke to her gently. "Madonna, you can
help us greatly in this matter if you choose. Are
you brave enough to run some risk for the sake of
your lady?"

She looked at me in a bewildered fashion. "I

226

Sir John Hawkwood

f^.

do not unc'.erstand," she murmured. "The Princess
is in no danger — what harm can come to her through
falHng into her cousin's hands? It is what she de-
sires "

"No, no, child," cried the Princess, desperately.
I have been tricked, I have been duped by the
Prince. It was his plan to have me brought here
that he might force me into marriage with him. Sir
John heard the plot and did all that a true knight
could to save me, and in my madness I have ruined
him. If Antonio takes me now, the Virgin help
me!"

"Will you aid us in saving your lady?" I asked
Francesca again.

She drew away from the Princess and stood erect,
her pale face raised. "I am not brave, and I am
very foolish and feather-headed," she answered,
with a pitiful little effort at mirth, "but I would
gladly give my life for Madonna Giulia. Tell mc
how I may help her and you shall have no cause to
call me coward."

"Then you must stay here in the castle while she
leaves us," I answered. "O'Meara, go get your
men to horse. Choose out the most evil and greedy
of the troop — the ones who would be most like to
fail me when they found the pinch a hopeless one;
in that way I shall have the stauncher men left
for the holding of the castle, and you will have no
trouble, for those who ride with you will look for a
rich reward in Padua.'*

Sir John Hawkwood 227

He hesitated, looking at me uncertainly. "I've
said Fd leave you, and I'll be keeping my word,
though it hurts me near beyond all bearing to do it,"'
he said, coming close to me. "But Madonna Fran-
cesca there, Sir John? Sure and death is all in the
day's work for us men, but what of a sweet little
girl like that who never has looked on a drop of
blood and never should ? Have we got the right to
bring her into peril ?"

She had heard him, and even at this moment a
famt smile played about her mouth. "I shall not be
in great danger, Messer O'Meara," she said prettily,
coming up and laying her fingers on his arm!
"Prince Antonio will not dare do me any serious
evil, no matter how far I enrage him. My family
is poor now, but we have kinsmen who are powerful
and all Verona would cry out if harm came to me.'

Never fear! But I would— I would " She

broke off with tears filling her eyes.

"What then, mavourneen ?" he cried passionately.
"I would," she repeated, between tears and laugh-
ter, "that you were not going, Messer O'Meara!
You must find means to come back to Verona some

day, for if I should never see you again- "

"Yes? Yes? Tell me, then?" he urged eagerly.
"I would find me a convent!" she answered, .sob-
bing and laughing at one and the same time. 'For
I will be a nun, I vow it, before my IvOrd Ravig-
nani shall call me wife, or any other noble of Verona,
or any man on earth save — savt

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Sir John Hawkwood

It was here that O'Meara forgot all the world in
his rapture, and caught her in his arms and covered
her face with kisses. She clung to him, laughing
joyfully through her tears, as pretty a picture as I
had ever seen; and though I well knew that every
moment was precious to me, I had not the heart to
interrupt the brief heaven of these two who might
never meet again on earth.

"Sir John Hawkwood," said the Princess' voice
in my ear.

She was standing close beside me, pale and tense,
but very composed. "I will not go," she said, and
with an accent of finality that chilled me. "I have
caused all this by my own fault. If I had heard
you patiently when first you brought me here, we
should stand in no danger now. But I would not
listen, I brought all your brave enterprise to failure,
and now I will not save myself and leave you to die
for my sake. I shall stay, and share the evil that
is coming. That is the only reparation I can make
you now!"

The other two were oblivious to us, and did not
see that I bent and took both the Princess' hands
in mine. "You speak like a great lady and a brave
woman," I answered, "but you are wrong. There
is a greater reparation than that which you can
make me. Whether you stay or go, my death is
certain; but it rests with you whether I die in all
content, having redeemed my spotted life in some
part, or whether I die with all my sins uncleansed

Sir John Havvkwood 229

and my heart in a tumult of despair. Go— let me
feel that I have saved you, that I have not lived
in vain. Once you are on the road to Padua I will
be quite happy, and Antonio's daggers will be sweet
to me as they let out my heart's blood. You will
let me die in peace, Madonna Giulia ? I have tried
to serve you, I have risked all in your behalf, and
this is my first and last prayer, the only thing that
I shall ever ask you,"

She was silent for a long moment, and I saw
that there were heavy tears on her lashes. "Yes, I
will go," she said at last, very softly.

"I thank you, Princess." I could say no more
than that in a steady voice.

She raised her eyes to mine, and they had a won-
derful star-like look. "Do you remember. Sir John,"
she said, "that one day in the palace loggia— it was
the afternoon when you would have warned me of
my cousin, and I would not listen— you took my
scarf? Have you it now?"

"Yes," I answered, in amazement.
"Then give it to me," she said.
"You desire it?" I asked, with a keen stab of
pain at my heart. "I was unworthy of it when I
took it, true — but am I all unworthy now? May
I not keep it until the end, the end which will soon
be here?"

She shook her head and held out her hand.
Slowly, biting my lips to keep down the pain, I
drew the soft gold-embroidered thing from under-

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Sir John Hawk wood

> u,

neath my cuirass and gave it to her. She took it,
and now I saw that she was smiling in a wonder-
ful fashion such as I had never before seen on the
Hds of any woman, it was at once so sweet and so
s. d.

"You are the only man who has ever served me
for my own sake and for no object of his own," she
said softly. "You are the truest knight I have
ever known. Sir John." And with her own hands
she passed the scarf across my shoulder and knotted
it over my bright cuirass.

For a moment I could find no words, nor any
power to speak them. Coming to myself at last,
I went on one knee and kissed her hand. "Prin-
cess," I said, my voice quavering in a womanish
fashion for which I felt no shame at all, "you have
given me back my knighthood, and I ask no greater
joy or honor than to die for you."

CHAPTER XV

THE LADY IN THfi MASK

It was no easy task for me to put all thought
of the Princess' sudden kindness out of mv head
and set myself to caring for her safety, but by
a great effort of will I accomplished the feat. I
tore O'Meara from his lady-love, sent him below
to get his men to horse, and followed him to the
court-yard after bidding the Princess change her
riding cloak for that of Madonna Francesca, and
join me as soon as she was prepared. Both women
looked bewildered at the order, but made no pro-
test ; for the time being the mantel of authority had
fallen on my shoulders, and no one in the castle
would have questioned what I commanded.

O'Meara had made a shrewd choice of his men,
as I had known I might trust him to do. They
were the dregs of the troop, fellows to whom under
other circumstances I would not have trusted the
Princess for any inducement the world could offer ;
yet, all being as it was, they were the safest possible
escort for her, since, in their cupidity to win a rich
reward from the Duke of Padua for her safe con-
duct, they would have defended her with the utmost

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Sir John Ilawkwood

fire and fury from any who sought to take her from
them.

The excitement among my free companions was
great, as I had of course foreseen. Tliis new move
of mine bewildered and startled them, and th '
thronged the court in an eager fashion, peering and
muttering, looking for any hint of explanation.
Luckily, however, their late mutiny and the fashion
in which I had convinced them of their stupidity in
doubting me had left them far from sure of their
own judgment, and had inspired them with an added
respect for my shrewdness. The general opinion
now appeared to be that I had some excellent, though
invisible, reason for suddenly despatching the Prin-
cess under a small guard ; there was no great amount
of dissatisfaction expressed, and what there was
seemed caused rather by fear that those who accom-
panied the Princess would get the lion's share of the
reward than by any distrust of me.

"You understand what you are to do?" I said
shortly to the men O'Meara had picked out. "You
will take the Princess to her kinsman, who will make
the matter worth your while. If any try to bar your
way, out through them at whatever cost, and never
rest until you are out of Prince Antonio's lands.
As for the rest of us, we will join you in a day or
two— I have a little matter of a castle to take by
storm before I cry quits with Delia Scala, and these
fellows here shall help me in it and gather in some
booty." This was a happy thought, as a loud cheer

Sir John llawkwood 233

and a sudden lightening of faces proved. "Mou.it
your horses, here comes the Princess. Guard her
well, all of you, or when I reach Padua you shall
answer for it!" With this threat I turned aside
to hide a grim smile at tny own assurance, I knew
well enough that I should never see Padua, that I
had, in fact, but a few minutes left to live. Already
my ears were straining to catch the sound of the
Prince's men within the castle, and my heart was
beating fast in the fear that he might come before
I could get the Princess safely on her way.

She came slowly into the court, cloaked and
masked. I advanced to meet her, took her hand,
and led her up to her horse. Her fingers lay cold
against mine, but she carried her head high. There
could be no leave-taking between us now, lest my
troopers should see that we had come to an under-
standing, and suspect the tale I had told them; but
as I helped her to mount I felt her clasp tighten on
my hand, and knew that the pressure spoke her
thanks as words could scarce have done. "Good
luck on your journey. Madonna Giulia," I cried
bluffly, so that all might hear. "Never tremble, these
fellows will guard you well to Duke Francesco's
doors. 'Tis a pity you have no wish to go there,
but I doubt you will find him such an ogre as your
fancy paints !"

Again her fingers pressed mine, then she with-
drew them. "Good-bye, Sir John Hawkwood," she
breathed, so gently that none save myself caught the

234

Sir Jolin Ha\vk\voo(I

words. "Good-bye. my gallant knight!" She was
in the saddle, and I stepped back.

O'Meara had come up to me. very white, his
eyelids lowered to hide the tears. 'Td rather die
a thousand times than to be leaving you so " he
muttered m my ear. "By all the saints, and' if it
wasn t yourself that bade me be off. and if I didn't
know that it was in this way I'm serving you best
in all you long for. then I'd sell my soul before ever
Idst.rastep! But never give up. Sir John. Fight
like the divil himself, and who knows but you'll best

less. There II be no joy left in the world for me
on the day you leave it!" He put out both his
hands and clasped mine as if he would never let
them go.

An instant later he had sprung on his horse, the
men had closed about Madonna Giulia. and the little
troop was moving slowly out of the court-yard I
heard the horses' hoofs rattle on the crazy draw-
bridge, then the sound diminished, and I knew that
they were in the open. The Princess was on the
way to Padua, and if she did not reach there safely
1 would be because Michael O'Meara was strangely
altered from his old self.

I had the draw-bridge raised again and the port-
cullis lowered, then turned back and faced my men
At any moment now the alarm might sound, the
Princes troopers might be upon us. Every noise
made me start, every clink of mail seemed to me to

Sir John Hawkwood 235

proclaim their approach. It was necessary that we
should make a brave resistance, since in this way
alone could we give the Princess a clear start. I
must in some fashion persuade the fellows to sup-
pf)rt me, and in my extremity I longed for the
tongues of angels.

"Come here, all of you." I cried boldly, standing
by the court entrance. "I have a thing to tell you,
and very little time in which to do it."

They came crowding about eagerly enough, and
as the torch-light fell on their dark scarred faces I
wondered if, in undertaking to play with such a
set of fellows, I had not begun a task utterly without
chance of fulfilment. Franz and Pierre stood in the
first row, almost at my elbow, and their eyes were
turned on me with a faithful dog-like look that
brought me comfort. I looked about keenly, and
discovered skulking in the rear the man I sought—
Jacques, the traitor.

He was white beneath his darkened skin, and his
face had a baffled dangerous look horrible to see.
He alone had understood the departure of the Prin-
cess, yet he had not dared to speak, for to do so
he must convict himself of treason to his comrades,
a thing never forgiven by them and always terri-
bly avenged. He knew, also, that I must have
learned of his treachery, and as our eyes met I saw
the look of a trapped beast shoot across his features.
"Come here, Jacques," I said curtly.
The men opened to let him through. For a mo-

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236 Sir John Hawkwood

ment he stood motionless, afraid to advance, afraid
to refuse obedience. Very slowly he came forward
until he stood before me. His face was ghastly
now. He was sick with terror, yet I knew he was
very dangerous in this mood, and I let not a motion
of his right hand escape me.

"What have you done with the jewels you took
from the Princess as payment for opening a passage
for the Prince?" I asked sharply.

He gave a sharp gasp of horror, then made a
desperate eflfort at denial. "Jewels? You are mad
mon capitaine," he muttered insolently, through pal-
lid lips. "I have seen no jewels, the worse luck for
me "

"So you are a liar as well as a traitor!" I cried
"The two go well together! You fool, I know all;
I know how you took the stones from the mouth
of the passage, how you pried loose the door to give
free entrance "

The movement that I had looked for came. His
right hand went swiftly to the hilt of his dagger
and grasped it, but I was before him. In an in-
stant my sword was out of its sheath, and I ran him
through with as small compunction as though he had
been in body the dog he was at heart.

He went down without a groan and lay huddled
at my feet. I pulled my sword loose, then faced
the circle of my men, who were gazing blankly at
me and their fallen comrade. None spoke for a
time, save to utter disjointed oaths, but there was

Sir John Havvkwood 237

no apparent feeling of anger. Pierre was the first
to break the silence. "So Jacques was a traitor, eh.
Sir John?" he cried. "I always thought as much-
he had eyes that never met those of the man to
whom he spoke. A good riddance, say I ! I could
never abide him. Is it your pleasure, captain, to
tell us what he did?"

"He plotted with the Princess, and opened a se-
cret passage leading under the moat, by which An-
tcnio della Scala will enter the castle within the
hour," I answered coolly, though n-y heart beat
fast. The crisis was close upon me now.

There was a panic at this. The men swayed for-
ward, cursing and shouting. "Then why do we lin-
ger here? To be butchered ? Why did we not all
go to Padua with the Princess?" one screamed, and
the others took up the cry. They would have
burst past me out of the court and under the port-
cullis, but I stood firm in the narrow entrance with
my bared sword in my hand, and they knew its
point too well to dare it.

"Be silent, and hear me!" I shouted sternly, back-
ing my command with such oaths as I thought
most likely to prove effective. "Antonio is coming.
If we flee now, he will pursue us and overtake us.
W..atever we do, there is no hope save in a brave
resistance. We can defend ourselves better here
than out upon the road. Come, courage ! Are you
afraid? You shame the White Company! Faith,
I had known that my graceless rogues possessed few

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^38 Sir John Hawkvvood

virtues, but I had thought that at least they feared
nothing under heaven. Will you scatter in useless
flight, only to be overtaken in the forest yonder
where there are no walls behind which to make a
stand ?"

"Why have you sent away the Princess?" shrilled
a furious voice.

I gave a reckless laugh and tossed my sword in
the air. "Because I think that whatever we do we
shall die to-night," J answered. "Stand or fly the
end will be the same; and I have a fancy to die like
a good soldier. The Prince means ill by Madonna
Giuha, therefore I will not let her fall into his
hands. Look, my knaves, shall we not for once in
our lives do a gallant deed ? For my part. I am
grown weary of blood and booty and drinking and
ruffling, and am minded to strike a blow for a lady
and do a deed of which, in my 'ast moment on earth.
I need not be ashamed. We have done little good
in all our days, you and I; shall we not prove to-
night that after all we are something better than
mercenaries who cut throats for a bag of scudi ?
Shall we not fight for something else than gold? I
am minded to prove my manhood now Who fol
lows me? Who fights for honor and the Princess
Giulia?

! It was a strange appeal to make to such graceless
villains I had never meant to say such words-I
think that the soft touch of Madonna GiuHa's hands
as she knotted her scarf across my breast had

Sir John Hawkwood 239

robbed me of my senses and turned me to a madman,
prating of honor and chivalry and words that had
not passed my lips for years. And yet I think that
nothing I could have said would so have moved my
men. I struck a chord in their breasts that had
been long untouched ; my fire lit an answering fire
in their hearts. With a shock of amazement I saw
a new look come into their dark faces.

"For old times' sake !" Pierre muttered. "For the
time when I wa^ a foolish boy and had never seen
blood flow, and scarce knew a woman save my good
old mother! Yes, to-night I'll fight for something
else than gold!"

"I'll fight for Sir John!" Franz shouted. "Ah,
captain, I've served you now for ten long years, and
where you bid me go I'll go, even if the path leads
straight to death !"

"I'll strike one blow against Delia Scala, I!" an-
other shouted. "He thought to toss oflF our captain,
eh ? He shall get a lesson to-night !"

An evil-faced fellow, whose present degradation
shamed the good blood that ran in his veins, flung
back his head and put his hand on his sword-hilt.
"I'm weary too of being a cutthroat, Sir John
Hawkwood," he cried. "I'll bear myself once more
as I did long years ago, and if I die 'twill be only a
fair price to pay for the luxury !"

For one reason or another all declared roughly
but honestly their willingness to fight. Perhaps
their air of falling in with my mood was but a pre-

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240

Sir John Havvkvvood

tense— perhaps their true thought was that since die
they must in any case, it was as well to bear them-
selves with a reckless disregard for danger. I choose
to believe better of them. Indeed, I was moved and
touched to see in these fellows a fidelity to me, a
kind feeling of remembrance for the long years of
my harsh command, for which I had never given
them credit. It came to me then that there is some-
thing of good in the worst man, that, it might be,
my words had roused the knightlier side of these
wild ruffians even as my love for the Princess Giulia
had roused the knightlier side of my fallen nature.
I laughed out merrily and clapped Pierre on the
shoulder. "Wdl said, lads, all of you!" I cried,
with a wave of my sword. "We will do good work
to-night, and teach Antonio della Scala to say his
prayers before he comes against the men of the
White Company ! Come, let us go block up the pas-
sage and undo as much as we may of this poor
traitor's work "

It was not to be. There was no time left us for
preparations or defense. Even as I spoke my ears
caught the sound for which I had long been listen-
ing, the echo of a battle-cry, the crash of arms and
armor. The Prince's men had entered by the secret
passage and were pouring up into the castle.

With a shout to my troopers to follow me, I took
to my heels, raced through the castle at full speed,
and darted down the steps that led into that part of

Sir John Havvkwood 241

it which lay underground. At the foot of these
stairs we came on our foes.

I had been in many a fight in my life, and had
grown used to bloodshed, as men must who make
a trade of killing. Cold steel was what brought me
my bread, and I had little left to learn of warfare;
but never had I fought as on that night in the de-
serted castle. It was a hopeless business from the
first, since Gianni Potrero, the leader of the in-
vaders, had brought a force that outnumbered my
little band five to one. I knew it, and had no hope
of conquering, or of going out alive from the castle
walls. My whole aim was to give Madonna Giulia
time to get well along the road to Padua, so that
when the truth was learned she might defy pursuit.
I fought as I had not dreamed that any man could
fight, with a wild exultation, a triumph, and all
the knightly ardor of the days of my youth. Not
for a moment could I forget the scarf that lay
across my breast; it seemed to burn me through my
cuirass, as once the Black Prince's sword had
burned my shoulder when he touched it to make me
knight. I was fighting for my lady. I was not a
mercenary any more, but an English gentleman
drawing sword for the woman I loved.

We were driven back up the steps, contesting
every inch of the way. My troopers fought like
heroes, cursing, stumbling, rallying when all seemed
lost, bringing down man after man of our oppo»

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Sir John Hawkwood

nents. The odds against them were hopeless, and
they fell one by one, fighting bravely to the last.
God rest their souls, I say! If they were great
sinners and had led most evil lives, at least they
died that night as soldiers should long to die.

I could not have told how long we had been
fighting. I had been driven to the top of the stairs
and across the passage, and my breath was begin-
nmg to come fast. When I looked around I saw
scarce half-a-dozen of my men about me, and all of
them were panting and had smeared bloody faces.
The mass of our foes were bearing on us heavily
in a new attack. It came over me with a shock of
surprise that I was wounded, and glancing down I
saw that Madonna Giulia's white scarf was stained
with blood. Two more of my men fell. I turned,
ran swiftly forward with a score of men at my heels,'
and dashed into the great hall of the castle.

Had Madonna Francesca obeyed the last order I
had given her? I hoped so, for I must gain more
time yet for the Princess. I looked at the staircase.
Half-way up it crouched the figure of a woman
muffled in a riding-cloak and disguised by a mask.
The invaders saw it too, and a great cry of "The
Princess!" shook the walls. I cleared the room at
a bound, took my stand on the stairs, and waited for
the advance.

Gianni Potrero and his men had darted after me,
and the torch-light shone on their armor and ran
along their bare blades. They looked dangerous,

Sir John Hawkwood

243

for the entertainment had not gone according to
their fancy — we had resisted too bravely and too
well. Now they had conquered, for only Pierre and
Franz were left beside me, and we stood three
against thirty or more. Nevertheless, they hesitated,
for my sword was a famous one, and it is well
known that a staircase is well-nigh as good a coign
of vantage as a guarded fortress.

The knowledge that I could still gain time for
the Princess went to my head like wine. "Who
comes next ? Who comes next ?" I cried tauntingly.
"Brave and gallant gentlemen, do you hesitate to
charge three men ? What, is there not a single brave
soldier among you all? Now shame on a country
so poorly stocked with valor! Small wonder your
Prince must needs hire me to fight his battles, if
his own servants are so backward ! See, I fling you
my gauntlet — will not that rouse you? Or will
you come if I call you cowards? That is a taunt
to be wiped out by blood alone! Who comes to
take the stairs ?"

There was a stir at the door as two men came in,
the soldiers pressing back to give them passage. I
shook with laughter at the sight, for they were An-
tonio della Scala and his favorite, and neither of
them had unsheathed their swords. It seemed that
a share in the fight was not to their taste ; they pre-
ferred to watch from the rear. The Prince was
peering at me with an evil malicious look, his lids
fallen, his pale face twisted into lines of mocking

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244 Sir John Hawkwood

triumph. Delia Torre stood in haughty silence, a
splendid figure of disdain.

"Well, Sir John Hawkwood," said the Prince,
"we have come to take you to Verona and give you
a taste of the wheel." His gaze fell on the cloaked
figure that crouched behind me on the stairs. "Gi-
ulia!" he cried, and at the hoarse note that spoke
in his voice I thanked Heaven that the Princess was
now well on her way. "Never fear, cousin— we
have come to save you and avenge you ! Keep your
courage but a few moments longer, all will go well
now." He wheeled angrily on Gianni Potrero, who
stood fingering his sword. "Man, why are you
loitering here ? Do I pay you t<> stare like any peas-
ant, or to fight like a soldier—which ? Rally your
men, charge the stairs, and take me that villain !"

Messer Gianni looked first at his master and then
at me, and shifted his feet like an uneasy schoolboy.
His men, massed about him, did the same, though
they scowled at me and muttered curses. "Domen-
iddio!" the Prince cried fiercely. "Are you all
cowards, then? Was this knave Hawkwood the one
brave man in my service? Are you afraid of him,
all of you? I will have you thrown in prison when
we reach Verona if you do not mend your ways! I
will dress you as monks and thrust you into a
monastery, for surely you are not soldiers ! Will no
one pluck up heart to take the stairs?" His voice
turned shrill with rage, and he bit his lip till the blood
came.

Sir John Hawkwood 245

Only a few moments more, and the Princess
might smile at all pursuit! I was full of a great
joy and triumph that conquered even a certain sick-
ening faintness, the result of my wound, which was
beginning to creep over me. "Aye, who will come ?"
I cried, saluting them with my sword. "Are you
all afraid of me? You have good cause for fear. I
am not the cutthroat any more, the tavern loiterer,
the bully— I am Sir John Hawkwood, an English
gentleman, the comrade of the Black Prince! I cast
down the gauntlet to all knaves and ruffians, whether
they be princes born or common rogues like Messer
Gianni there. Come forward yourself, Antonio del-
la Scala— let us see which can deal the better
strokes, a man who shames his royal blood, or a
knight who combats for a lady and has faith and
loyalty on his side. Ah, I thank God for this chance
to go back to my youth, to die as I have not lived!
Who comes to take the stairs?"

"Will no one answer him?" the Prince screamed,
hoarse with rage.

"I will," said Ranucio della Torre, coldly. "It is
greater honor than he merits that a noble should
touch his blade, but at least he shall learn that there
is one man here who dares to face him !" He pulled
out his sword and ran forward. "Ho, Sir John
Hawkwood, say your prayers!" he cried as he
came.

"Say yours," I cried back, "my lord the fa-

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Sir John Hawkwood

vorite! You will need them sorely before our bout
is done!"

As our blades rang together my exultation grew.
I was fighting for Madonna Giulia. Here before
me, with his sword crossing mine, was the man who
had plotted against her for his own gain. Here was
the man who had sworn to put on me the stain of
treason. I meant to kill him, though it should be the
last act of my life. The torch-light fell full on his
dark, sombre, splendid face, on the jewels in his hat
and the gold broidery of his cloak. There was bit-
ter hate in his eyes. I had been his enemy for a
long time, and he too meant that our score should
be wiped out by blood.

He fought well, Ranucio della Torre. He was a
base man and an evil man, but never did I meet
with greater skill and courage than his. From the
instant that our blades crossed I knew that I was
pitted against a marvellous fencer — and every mo-
ment I was growing weaker. He was trying to be-
wilder me with many strange thrusts and feints
and parries, but I had lived out my life among
swordsmen and knew all his tricks. We were both
breathing hard, and I was turning faint. The steel
rang and clashed, but save for this noise the room
was very still. All were looking at us wide-eyed, as
at a play.

Knowing my increasing weakness, I ceased to de-
fend myself and began to attack. I tried thrusts
known to few living fencers, keen darts, subtle

Sir John Hawkwood 247

feints. He knew them, and smiled in dark mock-
ery. I pressed on him fiercely, and he stood his
ground without wavering. One by one I tried the
tricks that had given me victory over skiHul rivals,
and one by one he turned them off with a sneer. I
had met my match at last.

Suddenly Delia Torre's point slipped within my
guard. As quick as thought I leapt aside, but he had
grazed me, and I felt a swift sting on my neck and
the trickle of running blood. I recovered on the
instant and renewed the conflict, my face hot, my
knees weakening.

"A hit, a hit ! Ha, you mercenary, it shall be the
heart next," Delia Torre cried, his sombre eyes
glowing with hate and triumph.

"To boast too soon brings ill luck," I retorted.
All was growing dark around me. The great hall
seemed a black blur that framed Delia Torre's ex-
ultant, passionate, vindictive face. The end was
coming fast. Soon my senses would fail me and I
would swoon like any girl. HI was to conquer, I
must act now or never. "For the Princess!" I mut-
tered, as, gathering all my strength, I essayed the
trick that I had learned in Paris — the high thrust,
the sweeping parry, the low lightning-like dart. Our
swords rang together fiercely, then mine slipped
under and ran straight through Delia Torre's throat

For a moment he stood upright and motionless,
then his muscles loosened, and he went down with a
great crash and lay motionless at my feet. I could

248

Sir John Hawkvvood

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not see him now for the growing darkness. I had
fought to the end, tasted the joys of restored knight-
hood, drained the cup to the dregs. With my last
strength I bent my sword across my knee and broke
it. "Saint George and Etigland!" I cried hoarsely,
going back by mstinct to the battle-shout of my
youth ; and I flung the broken pieces down into the
hall and reeled forward after them.

The blood and the conflict had maddened An-
tonio. Seeing the stairs left clear, he leapt over
Delia Torre's body, darted up them, and caught the
cloaked figure in his arms. "Ah, Giulia, I have
you now !" he shouted, and tore the mask from the
woman's face; then stood dumb, gazing into the
eyes of Fraacesca di Montalto.

"Where is the Princess?" he cried at last, looking
about him with the eyes of a madman.

I leaned on the wall and laughed. My mirth had
a strange sound, and I could hardly stand erect.
"The Princess is well on her way to Padua, my
lord," I answered. "Before dawn she will be with
Duke Francesco. He will guard her well, never
fear. Choose yourself another wife, you will never
see her again!"

"Curses on you!" he snarled, with foam on his
lips. "You shall die by such torments as you have
never dreamed "

"I care not what you do to me!" I cried, sway-
ing on my feet. "You cannot take away the mem-
ory of this hour, or the knowledge that I have

Sir John Havvkvvood 249

saved Madonna Glulial You cannot rob me of the
knighthood that I have won back the right to claim.
Saint George and England !' * And then dense black-
ness settled over me, and I flung out my hands and
fell.

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CHAPTER XVI

THE BARGAINING

Four days had passed since the flight of the
Princess and the fall of Castel Paura. Prince An-
tonio was once more in his good city of Verona, and
I was his guest, the victim of an urgent hospitality
I would very gladly have spared.

My wound had not been a deep one, though loss
of blood had caused a long swoon enduring for
some three hours. I had felt small joy when my
senses returned and I found myself little the worse
for wear. Surely, I thought, it were many times bet-
ter to have died fighting r Madonna Giulia, sword
in hand, as became a knight and a c^entleman, than
to come back to life and suffer the indignities that
the Prince was planning for me. I cursed Gianni
Potrero, who was on his knees beside me when I
opened my eyes. He laughed in answer, with more
than a touch of malice. "We have been giving you
as good care as a great noble would have found at
our hands," he said, setting down the cup of wine
which he had been pouring down my throat. "It is
the Prince's own bidding that we cure you — he
values you too much to lose you, Sir John. You
have killed his favorite, you have spirited away his

860

SJr John Hawkwood 251

cousin, and you may guess how dear he holds you
now! He will prove his aflfection later. Oh, you
will not find him ungrateful, believe me when I sav

it!" ^

When morning came we returned to Verona. I
was able to walk well enough by then, though my
head swam a trifle with the first st-ps, and I dreaded
the motion of my horse as a happier man might have
dreaded death. I had passed the night in one of the
upper rooms, strongly guarded, and now they led
me down the stairs and into the great hall, with my
hands bound behind rny back, and my scabbard
hanging empty at my side.

At the foot of the stairs we halted, and I saw
briow me a strange scene. Antonio della Scala
stood at the end of the hall, pale and cold, with an
ominous glimmer in his half-shut eyes; and before
him knelt a woman shrouded in black robes and
a black hood. Beside them, on a sort of litter, was
stretched the body of Ranucio della Torre. The
sun, slanting through the window, gleamed on his
bright cuirass half hidden by its violet sash, his
strong supple figure, his splendid sombre face set
in the cold lines of death. On the instant I under-
stood. No doubt a rider had taken the ill news to
Verona in the night, and Madonna Violante had
come in haste with the litter for the bearing of her
dead husband to his home.

The sight of her up-turned face made me shud-
der. She was an evil woman, and I had borne her

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Sir John Hawkwood

no love, but I could not doubt now that she had lost
all that made her life worth the living, and despite
myself I pitied her. She was white as marble, and
as cold. I knew that there was despair in her
heart, and passionate hate, and the fierce suflFering
of a strong proud nature despoiled of the one thing
It holds most dear. "My lord," she said in low
hard tones, as I stood watching her. "Ranucio della
Torre is dead. Your chosen friend, your most faith-
ful servant, has been killed by a mercenary and a
bravo. Life is all over for me now. save for this
one thing— the winning of vengeance. My lord.
I ask for blood as the payment of blood. I ask for
the death of Sir John Hawkwood."

I came forward and stood close beside the Prince.
Her eyes met mine; there was no change in her set
face save an increased pallor, a tightening of the
features, that told of a bitter hate which would never
die while her heart beat.

"This is the man who killed your lord and my
friend," said Antonio, in his low silky voice. "Take
comfort. Madonna. By my royal ulood I swear that
his act shall not go unavenged. I too have a score
to settle with Sir John Hawkwood, and when I
am done with him I think that his worst enemy will
be quite content. A week from now you and I will
stand side by side in Verona, Madonna Violante,
and watch what remains of this brave soldier, and
then you shall tell me if I have not done what should
appease the ghost of Ranucio della Torre." He

Sir John Hawkwood 253

raised her up and led her out to where her escort
waited, and as I followed with my guards I reflected
that matters looked very dark for me.

Madonna Francesca did not return to Verona
with us. One of the men who rode beside me
after some urging, told me her fate, and I learned
with amazement that she had been sent under a
small escort to Padua, to rejoin her mistress. It
took me a long time to discover from my sulky
guard the cause of this, which proved at last to
have been a desire on Antonio's part to send a mes-
sage to his cousin to the effect that since she had
chosen to leave him she might make her home here-
after with Francesco Carrara, but need never hope
to see again her lands and castles, which he would
guard with a tight hand and not permit to slip
through his fingers as she had done. I was glad to
hear that the Princess would have her favorite lady
at her side again to keep her company in her new
life. With Francesca and Michael O'Meara at
hand, she would be sure of two good and devoted
friends, for I knew the Irishman well enough to
count on him in any cause that I had confided to
his care.

^ It is not my purpose to say much concerning the
journey from Castel Paura to Verona. I might tell
how the pain of my wound worked upon me till I
reeled in my saddle and would have fallen but for
my bonds; or how the Prince, riding at the head of
the party, sometimes checked his horse to gaze on

254

Sir John Hawkwood

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111

me maliciously and tell me of his plans for my en-
tertainment when we should reach the city. But,
truth to tell, I cared little for either suffering or
taunts. The affair of the previous night had lit in
me a fire that would not grow cold while my life
lasted. I had saved Madonna Giulia and redeemed
my •<nighthood, and I could find strength to face
Wi .iOut weakness the worst of the torments which,
as I well knew, would surely be my fate. It was a
better end than I could have hoped. I was content,
and my calm indifference first puzzled, then enraged
the Prince. He redoubled his sneers and threats,
and exhausted himself in the effort to break down
my courage. The very ruffians who were my guards
stared at me in growing wonder, amazed at the
change that a night had worked in the ruffling cap-
tain of free lances whom they had all known and
dreaded in Verona.

We entered the city by the Porta de' Borsari. I
was a proud man in those days, and at another time
it would have been bitter enough to me, this entry
into the city, with my hands and feet tied together
and armed guards pressing all about my horse. The
news ran about the streets, and crowds of people
gathered to gape at me and point and whisper. I
scarcely noted it. Fatigue and pain and humiliation
had no power to touch me when, glancing down
at my cuirass, I saw knotted over it ^^e scarf Ma-
donna Giulia had fastened there. Sue had called
me her knight. Looking up, I saw Antonio's nar-

Sir John Hawkwood

^55

rowed eyes turned on me to drink in the sight of
my shame at being thus paraded through the streets
where I had swaggered so long. Despite myself I
smiled. He had never learned, this Prince, how
one word from a woman can strengthen the heart
and steel it against all petty sufferings, against even
such things as ruin and death.

I was lodged underneath the castle, in one of
the cells where state prisoners were often confined.
Gianni Potrero saw me conducted there, and lin-
gered to point mockingly at the bare stone walls and
the pitiful glimmer of sunlight that filtered through
the window. "No very lordly lodging, eh. Sir John
Hawkwood?" he said, standing staring at me, with
his hands on his sides and his cheeks puffed out. He
had been my rival for so long a time that my fall
was honey on his lips. "But yet a better home than
you will have when a week has passed. Very soon,
my English gentleman, six feet of earth will be your
bed, and our land will be rid of one more bully from
overseas !"

I laughed and flung myself down on a pile of
straw in the corner. "Any lodging is good enough
for an old soldier like myself," I answered, "one
who has learned to sleep on the ground and find
it a soft pillow. Faith, walls of any kind are a
luxury. As for the grave, if I had ever feared it
would I have chosen a profession that has brought
me face to face with death every month of the year?
You arc a poor fighter, Messer Gianni— I learned

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256

Sir John Hawkwood

that in Castel Paura, when I held the stairs and
you dared not come near me. Delia Torre, though
as villainous as yourself, had at least the advantage
of some courage!"

"Your tongue will wag less bravely when you
have had a taste of the wheel," he growled.

I shook my head. "Come, I have two gold coins
left in my pocket," I answered gaily, "and I am
willing to wager them that I meet the wheel more
bravely than you will do when your turn comes—
as come it surely will when Prince Antonio has
squeezed from you all the black service of which
you are capable."

He winced at the thought, crossed himself, and
went out with no further effort to divert himself
at my expense. I laughed again, but felt half re-
gretful that he had gone. Confinement when wait-
ing for death is no cheerful business to the most
courageous of men, and even changing words with
Gianni Potrero was better sport than sitting alone,
counting the hours, watching the sunlight flicker
and fade above me, and wondering how long a
time it would be until the Prince haled me out to
suffer for my service to his cousin.

Knowing as I did that he was not one to delay
in a matter of vengeance, I was not a little amazed
when three long days went by without bringing any
developments. Morning and evening a sour-faced
gaoler came stumbling into my cell with food and
drink, and every night Gianni Potrero came to see

Sir John Hawkwood

2^7

that I had not been spirited away. It was easy to
guess from his air of bi^ffled sulkiness that it pleased
him very ill to see me still alive, but I could drag
nothing from him that helped me to understand the
strange delay.

"Are you so anxious to die, then. Sir John?" he
muttered, leering at me. "Have patience, the end
will come soon enough. This respite is due to the
mercy of the Prince, who, reflecting on your many
sins, has been pleased to give you time to make
your peace with Heaven. Shall I send you a priest
to shrive your soul? One could do little, I fear—
I had best send a round dozen, eh ?"

I answered him with the rough wit taught by
camp life, and he went away cursing and fingering
his dagger. Left alone, i racked my brains in vain
for an explanation. When my gaoler came in with
my frugal meal I began to talk to him, and he
leaned on the wall and watched me as I ate. "I'll
stop until you have finished, 'twill spare me from
coming back to fetch your dish," he muttered ill-tem-
peredly.

"Tell me. Sir Sour-Face," I demanded, "why am
I kept so long in this pestilent hole? Since the
Prince is amiable enough to destine me for the wheel,
why not break me on it and be done with the matter ?
Come, you are surely high in his confidence, let me
into the secret."

"I do not come here to chatter, but to fetch your
food," he answered shortly. From his manner it

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258

Sir John Hawkwood

was plain to me that he could satisfy me if he chose,
and I had dealt with too many ruffians in my life
to be at a loss with this one,

"See," I said, taking out and displaying the two
coins that I had offered to wager with Gianni Pot-
rero. "You shall have your choice—shall I give
you these, or shall I break open your head before
you can reach the door of this room? One or the
other I will do as surely as my name is John Hawk-
wood, and if you are a man of sense you will choose
the gold, for my arm is no light one."

I had risen and shouldered my way between him
and the door, and he shrank away, looking at me
with dread and at the gold with avarice. "But "
he protested, more civilly than he had ever spoken
yet, "if the Prince should learn of what I tell you
he might give me a taste of the rack, and that is
worse than a broken head, signore."
^ "He shall never learn through me," I answered.
Come, will you speak or must I teach you?"
"I will speak," he cried hastily, and clutched at
the gold, which, however, I kept well out of his
rwch until his part of the bargain was fulfilled.
The Prince has had no time to think of you and
your affairs. News has come to him that on the
y.;ry day of your capture the White Company, hear-
ing that you were taken prisoner, surrendered the
town of Lerino to the Paduans. My Lord Cortesia
Seregno, the Prince's brother-in-law, was taken pris-
oner and carried to Padua, and they are moving

Sir John Hawkwood 259

heaven and earth to raise a ransom for him. I
know nothing more." He snatched the coins from
my hand, slipped past me, and vanished, bolting the
door behind him.

I flung myself down again on the straw. Here
was news indeed ! It was like my graceless knaves,
on the hearing that the Prince had turned against
me, and therefore no doubt against them also, to
turn the tables by promptly surrendering the strong-
hold of Lerino into Paduan hands. Cortesia Sereg-
no, whom I had left there in nominal charge when
I returned to Verona after capturing the place, had
apparently proved quite helpless to ride the storm,
and had been delivered over by my fellows to his
enemy Carrara. No doubt a great ransom would
be demanded for him ; and whatever was demanded,
Antonio must pay, — for, having already roused
Italy to indignant horror by the murder of his
brother, he could scarce afford to kindle further re-
sentment by an appearance of lukewarmness in the
cause of his brother-in-law. No doubt, as my gaoler
had said, he would have scant time to think of me
and my affairs for the present. Well, it mattered
little. Since I must die sooner or later, it gave me
small comfort to know that a few more days
stretched before me.

It seemed to me that I had passed a long eter-
nity in confinement. Accustomed as I was to con-
tinual activity and excitement, the spending of my
time behind bars was a keen torment to me. My

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Sir John Hawkwood

wound gave me no more pain and my strength had
come back, but I suffered more thin I had done
on the afternoon they brought ine into Verona. At
times I was hard put to it to apjiear cheerful and
indifferent when Gianni Potrcro paid me his nightly
visit, but here my pride came to my aid, and I never
failed to come off victor in our engagements.

It was morning, and I was sitting staring up at
the barred window, wondering h( v matters had
gone with O'Meara. Suddenly I heard the sound
of feet in the passage without— not the shuffling
tread of my gaoler, but the iard fall of heavy boots
and the ringing of spurs. I g > to my feet on the in-
stant, squaring my shoulders with a reckless laugh.
No doubt they were coming for me at last, and I
could have found it in my heart to be thankful that
the suspense was over. I had never failed when the
test came, and I knew that I could trust myself
not to fail now, whatever tortures they might try
upon me.

The door swung open, and I gaped like any fool
to see the Prince standing on the threshold with
Gianni Potrero and a score of troopers behind
him. He wore a splendid dress of rose and gold,
and carried in his hand a jewelled box from which
he was composedly eating comfits. For a long
moment he stood staring at me from under lowered
lids, his eyes gleaming with hate and malice, his
lips curving in an evil smile. I gave him back look
for look.

Sir John Hawkwood 261

"So, you are not tamed yet, Sir John," he drawled
at last. "You have a stubborn back, but it will bend
before the play is over. I have come to talk to
you, and before I begin we will have your hands
bound behind you, lest your temper should drive
you to some reckless act." He nodded to his men.

I allowed them to bind my hands with a shrug of
disdain. A struggle would have been hopeless, nor
would I stoop to it. "If I were a royal Prince and
the last of the Scaligeri, my lord," I said with a
laugh, "I think I should take shame to fear a plain
English adventurer so much that I dared not face
him save when his hands were pinioned. Faith, I
have the best of the matter, for I do not fear you
one little bit."

"You will not have the best of the matter long,"
he answered, with a threat under his smiling sneer.
"Go, leave me," he added to his men, and they
trooped out and closed the door, Gianni alone re-
maining. The Prince leaned on the wall and stared
at me, and I lounged carelessly, as if quite indiffer-
ent to my fate.

"You have thrown the dice with me, Sir John,"
Antonio drawled, "and you have lost— lost, as my
brother Bartolomeo did, and the traitor Cagliari, and
all other men who have striven to stand between me
and my will. I have got you in my power. Is the
thought a pleasant one to you? Is your heart quite
stout and untroubled when you reflect that I may
tear you on the rack and break you on the wheel ?"

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Sir John Hawkwood

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I nodded. "I am indifferent as to what you do,"
I answered, "and I do not understand why you
waste so many words. It is not the way of English
princes to stand chattering with men who have of-
fended them and who are in their power."

His fixed smile did not alter. "Now some rulers
might call you insolent, Sir John," he said, "but I
have determined to be patient, and patient I shall
be no matter how briskly your tongue wags. I ha\ e
made up my mind to be merciful, do you understand ?
I shall not sentence you to the rack or to the wheel,
I shall not hurt you in any way. Am I not a gener-
ous enemy. Sir John Hawkwood?"

"Such is not your name among your foes," I an-
swered. "I cannot read the meaning of your riddle,
my lord, but of one thing I am very certain, and
that is that you do not wish me well or mean well
by me."

"I have always heard that you were shrewd. Sir
John, and now I perceive that what I heard was
true," the Prince replied, showing his teeth in a
noiseless laugh. "Listen, my friend. Your gal-
lant chevaliers of the White Company have deserted
my banner and surrendered the town of Lerino into
Francesco Carrara's hands "

"I am glad of that." T said, with a shrug. "If
I am to meet an evil end through you. I cannot
see why you should continue to enjoy the towns I
took for you."

"My brother-in-law, Cortesia Sercgno, was taken

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Sir John Hawkwood

263

prisoner when your men surrendered," Antonio went
on slowly.

I laughed. "He is little loss to you, and less gain
to the Paduans," I cried, for indeed I had never
esteemed the pompous gentleman very highl; He
was another such one as Raimondo del Mayno.

"It appears that Carrara is of your mind," said
the Prince, apparently not at all disturbed, "for
when I sent a messenger to offer a rich ransom,
he sent me back word that he valued my brother-in-
law only as a means to an end. He would give up
Cortesia Seregno, he said, in exchange for a more
dangerous enemy, a man whose life imperiled his
power and his sovereignty, a dangerous soldier
against whom he had long vowed vengeance. Can
you guess who this was?"

"No," I answered, "nor shall I try."

"You have heard the name many times," Antonio
murmured, smiling evilly at mc. "It is Sir John
Hawkwood."

All was clear to me on the instam. and I take
some pride in the remembrance that I met the news
without a quiver of the face lo add to my enemy's
triumph. "Well?" I said coolly.

My impassivity forced a gesture of annoyance
from him. "Has not Francesco Carrara often
sworn that if ever you fell into his hands he would
hang you like any thief?" he demanded, his even
voice growing shriller and sharper.

"Yes," said I, "he has sworn that."

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Sir John Hawkwood

He him a chance to fulfil
!ed me. "I am going to

"It is my intention tr
his vow," Antonio inf;
send you to him, Sir Jo!

We stood facing each otlier in silence for a mo-
ment, then the Prince laughed and helped himself to
another comfit. "Danger has given you steady
nerves, my friend," he mocked, "but for all your
brave front I think you are far from happy at this
moment. It is not a pleasant thing to be hanged
like a dog." He came closer, and thrust his snarling
face against mine. "I had planned to kill you my-
self, Sir John," he said, with cold fury in his voice.
"I had planned to torture you and humble you be-
fore I snuflFed out your life; but this way will do
full as well. You robbed me of my cousin, you
killed my favorite. Good— you shall go to Fran-
cesco Carrara, who has hated you for many years
and has sworn to take vengeance on you. In this
fashion I shall gain doubly, for I shall rid myself
of the debt I owe you, and I shall ransom my
brother-in-law at no greater cost than the surrender
of your cursed body. When they fasten the rope
about your neck, then think of Ranucio della Torre
and the blow you dealt him ! When you are set to
dangle in the air, and all turns black about you, and
you struggle in vain to breathe, then recall that you
robbed Antonio della Scala of his bride, and ask
yourself if the game were worth the price! Good-
bye, Sir John Hawkwood. In an hour you leave
Verona on your way to the Paduan Court."

CHAPTER XVII

ON THB ROAD

"And what came next, Sir John?"

"They brought the French King safe into the
lEnghsh camp, is it not so? And the young Duke
of Burgundy as well, he that to-day stands higher
in France than his brother and sovereign? You
helped to capture them ?"

"You saw the blind King of Bohemia dash into
the fight with his horse led by his squires? You
heard him vow to strike one blow before his
death?"

"You saw Chandos, the great chevalier? and the
Black Prince, and the Knights of the Star, who had
vowed to die before they would retreat one step,
from whatever foe?"

They were urging their horses close about me,
bending forward eagerly lest they should lose a
word I let fall. The red light of the morning sun
fell on their dark faces and intent eyes, and gave
them, despite their grim strength, the look of boys
who listen earnestly to a marvelous tale. I an-
swered the hail of questions as best I might, laugh-
ing a little.

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Sir John Hawkwood

"Come, come, we are wasting time, we must mend
our pace; already we have dallied enough on the
way," the voice of the leader cut in sharply. Again
my guards set spurs to their horses, ajid we started
briskly forward. We were very near to Padua
now; I could see its first faint outline in the dis-
tance.

We had passed the night at a road-side inn, and
as we supped before the fire I had made acquaint-
ance with the score of Paduan troopers whom Fran-
cesca Carrara had sent to Verona to De my guards.
It was never my way to mope over what could not
be helped, and despite the great peril in which I
stood I preferred cheerful comradeship to silent
brooding. Soldiers have a fellow-feeling all the
world over, and I was not surprised to discover that
my captors were disposed to treat me civilly enough.
They had met me before, in many a skirmish, and
respected my skill at warfare; having got me in
their power now, and being convinced that they
would never again stand in any danger from me,
they were in high good humor, and showed me rough
civility. The cheerful way in which I met adver-
sity, too, soon won me their approval, and when I
began to jest with them over Ihe wine and tel! them
battle-tales they were ready to swear friendship
with me.

"Indeed, 'tis a pity you ever took service with that
rogue Delia Scala," the leader told me, with real
regret. "Why not have come to Padua and fought

Sir John Hawkwood 267

for Duke Francesco, who makes a generous master
and a just one? Now you have served him so that
he has sworn to hang you, and hang you he will.
You have scarce a day more to exist, you that are
the greatest soldier in Italy. It is evil luck, as I
live."

"If I am to die to-morrow, let me drink to-night,"
I cried laughing, and refilled my cup. We sat late
about the fire, but were early astir, and had taken the
road to Padua by the time the sun was up.

I rode along in a strange content. Before me lay
an old and bitter enemy and the death of a dog. yet
I felt no tremor and no grief. I was ready to meet
my fate with a smile, I who had been so fierce and
so embittered once, who had found no joy save in
smiting my foes. I was much changed indeed, since
I could ride to Padua among armed guards and
feel my heart clean of all hate and all desire for re-
venge.

As we galloped on our way I laughed and jested
with my captors, talking so merrily that they stared
at me in wonder and mounting admiratioa They
were accustomed to bravery, and had seen many
men meet death with a pretense at light-hearted-
ness, but I think my merriment, unforced and nat-
ural, was a new thing in their experience. A strange
gaiety ruled me. Wondering at myself, I suddenly
understood. I had dropped ten long and hateful
years from my life. I had gone back to the days
when first I went soldiering in France. It was so

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Sir Jolin Hawkwood

that I had laughed then, sitting with JoKn Chan-
dos and his friends, dreaming of knightly deeds,
planning gallant enterprises that should win a smile
from our royal master.

I had risked and lost my life for the service of the
Princess Giulia, and in the losing I had gained a far
more precious thing— the renewal of my youth, the
recovery of my knighthood. I would die, but she
was saved, and through me. Far better this, than to
have dragged out a long life of such years as I
had passed of late. Since I had wrecked my own
existence, it was well that I should end it in the sav-
ing of another from evil and suffering. Why should
I desire to live longer, since I had already done
the supreme thing? She was safe now, I could
help her no more, and life far from her presence
would be ceaseless torture. Fate had been merciful
to me in bringing such an end.

Her face rose before me, proud and pale and
sweet. I saw her defy me in the palace loggia, strug-
gle against me in the inn, seek to stab me in the
ruined castle. I saw the change come over her when
I told her of my love, the terror leap into her gaze
when she knew that she had betrayed one who had
striven to serve her. Last, I saw her bend over me
and knot her gold-embroidered scarf across my
breast. "Good-bye, Sir John Hawkwood," she had
said, as I helped her to her horse. "Good-bye, my
gallant knight!" Was it not an easy thing to' die,

Sir John Hawkwood

269

since those words would be in my ears until the
end ?

Sudden longing came over me at the thought I
saw agam the soft dusky masses of her hair the
proud splendor of her eyes, the curve of her scar-
let mouth. Striving hard to put the vision from
niy nnnd. I turned to a comfort that in the last week
had never failed me.

For years now. when I had thought of my sol-
dier hero, the Black Prince. I had turned sick with
shame and hatred of myself. He was dead now
thjs lord of mine; but had he lived, had he seen
me as I had been for long years, what would he
have felt toward his old servant, the man he had
knighted? Always this reflection had roused in me
a pam and a bitterness that nothing could quench-
but now I could hold my head erect, knowing that
If he stood before me T could meet his eyes and
never flinch. I had risked my life in a good cause.
I would lose it in a knightly one. He would have
approved me, he would have said that I had borne
myself like a gentleman of England.

I was friends again with the Black Prince The
thought was so sweet to me that I hugged it car-
ing nothing for a death that would take me toward
the ruler I had served and loved. As we rode along
i found myself singing in a voice as gav as that of
any boy-singing an old camp song that the English
troops had been wont to shout when their idol
went by.

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Sir John Hawkwood

"We met the French near Poictiers town,

Bonny Edward, royal Edward.
We broke their lines, xve mowed them down.

Oh my bonny Edward.
Their King teas there, their princes too.
And Guesclin^ Clisson, and Anjou,
But which of these could cope ivith you.

My soldier prince, my Edzvard?"

It seemed to me, as I sang, that he was close be-
side me, that we were riding stirrup to stirrup.
He was smihng on me, and saying that I had done
well, and that death was a small thing when weighed
with honor. Again I laughed, and again my captors
eyed me curiously, for they could not see the friend
who rode at my rein.

He was still there when we rode at last into Padua,
when we passed through the narrow streets lined
with shops and quaint lioases, and entered the more
splendid quarter of the town. Spring was in the
air, and the city had a blue sky overhead and a car-
pet of flowers underfoot. Roses twined alx)ut the
buildings, towers and pinnacles caught the glimmer-
ing light. Through the pierced traceries of marble
walls stole heavy blossomed boughs that filled the
streets with fragrance. I was in the city of Fran-
cesco Carrara, my old enemy; yet I could scarce
believe that beneath this surface of flowers and mar-
ble and softly stirring leaves there lurked danger and
death.

Ill Iff

Sir John Hawkwood ari

We turned aside into a narrow lane. A great
blank wall loomed before us, shutting out the sun.
"Where are we? What place is this?" I muttered,
dazed by the sudden gloom.

The leader motioned me to be silent. "We are
coming to the private entrance of the royal palace,"
he said curtly. "My commands. Sir John, are to
brmg you in by the secret staircase. Be silent now,
make no noise."

We halted at a door built into the stone wall, and
the leader knocked on it softly with his sword-hilt.
After an instant it swung open, and there was a low-
voiced conference, some man within asking questions
which my gaoler answered. Then I was curtly bid-
den to dismount; a dozen of my guards pressed
round me, and I was led into a long dark hall, empty
save for the man who had admitted us. This fellow
now touched the wall with practiced fingers, and to
my amazement I saw the wooden panels glide away
under his hands, revealing a narrow staircase leading
upward into the dusk. Obeying a low command, I
stumbled forward, my guards around me.

At the top there was more juggling with the wall,
and a second opening appeared, giving us entrance
into a long low room hung with tapestry. Two men
were standing by the window, conversing in whis-
pers ; one had the look of a soldier, the other of a
secretary. The latter started at our appearance,
then came forward hastily. "You have succeeded?
You have brought him?" he cried, peering at me

2^2

Sir John Hawkwood

with short-siglited eyes. "Is it Sir John Hawk-
wood? Wait, then, until I carry the news to my
lord." He went hastily across to the door, knocked,
and vanished into an inner room.

I knew now that I was in the antechamber of
Francesco Carrara, and my heart beat quicker at the
thought. My guards were gazing on me with rough
pity, and I forced myself to look back at them with
a laugh. Scarcely an instant had passed when the
secretary reappeared.

"Sir John Hawkwood is to enter — alone," he
said, and at the last word I saw a glance of sur-
prise pass around the circle.

I nodded carelessly in assent and passed through
the open door, which closed behind me as soon as I
had entered.

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CHAPTER XVIII

CARRARA OF PADUA

It was a magnificent room, an apartment glitter-
ing with all the splendor suitable in a royal palace.
The walls were set in square oaken panels crusted
with blue and gold and gilded with wreaths and
hanging garlands— a medley of rich coloring that
caught the light and flung it back in a ruddy blaze.
The V. hite plastered ground of the ceiling was cov-
ered by a hunting scene, done in deep warm colors
by the hand of Giacomo degli Avanzi, that pupil of
the great Giotto, who was held by many to surpass
his master in grace and skill. Even at this tense mo-
ment I noted it absently— the warm confusion of
plunging horses, the riders in rich habits of blue and
gold that blended with the panels on the walls, the
blue sky atop of them, the golden sun at their backs.
An Eastern carpet of gold and blue covered the
floor, and all about the room was scattered cosily
furniture blazoned in gold with the arms of the
house of Carrara. The breeze, coming in strongly
at the window, blew apart the heavy curtains and
brought me the sweet heavy scent of many flowers
blooming in the gardens below.

In a great throne-like chair beside a littered table

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Sir John Hawkwood

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sat a man whom I guessed at once to be the Duke of
Padua. I have heard many say that princes are
but men, and in no wise different from other and
less fortunate mortals, and no doubt this is true;
but in every ruler that ever I saw. good, bad, or
indifTerent, I have found one common trait — an as-
surance born of years of command, an unconscious
look of superiority that would proclaim the sover-
eign were its owner clad in a leather jerkin and the
rude cuirass of a common soldier. Francesco Car-
rara possessed this characteristic even beyond most
princes. He had the royal air here in his palace,
but I knew that he would also have had it on the
road, in battle, wherever fate might choose to
place him.

He was a man of middle age, not tall, but well and
strongly knit and of powerful build. His hair was
dark, and he had sharp shrewd gray eyes and a
straight determined mouth that could yet curve into
a pleasant smile. His dress of dull green satin was
very rich, and the jewels on his doublet were many,
yet these adornments, which in Antonio della Scala
caught the gaze and roused a sense of contempt,
seemed in this man but the fitting accompaniment of
a great and proud nature. Of all the princes I had
seen, none save Edward Plantaganct had ever so
impressed me as this my old enemy, before whom I
now stood for the first time in my life.

For some moments we remained motionless and
silent. The Duke's eyes met mine steadily and cu-

Sir John Hawkwood

275

riously, and I would not be tlic first to look away.
Fie had a great dog curled at his feet, and pres-
ently the animal, fretted by my sudden entrance
and the long pause, rose with a snarl and advanced
threateningly toward me. I put out my hand to it,
and after an instant of distrust and hesitation it
came closer, eyed me quest ioningly, and in the end
began to lick my fingers.

The Duke of Padua smiled curiously. "I fear my
dog is a Veronese, Sir John Hawkwood," he said,
in the low, level tones of a strong man, "since he
leaves me in this base fashion for one who is the ene-
my of my land."

"Not a Veronese, my lord," I answered, as cheer-
fully as I could, "for, believe me, to-day the
Veronese hate me as much as ever the Paduans
did."

"Yes, the Paduans have hated you for a long
time," he said, with a quiet nod. "It is of that we
have to speak. Will you sit down, Sir John?"

I shook my head, surprised by the invitation. It
amazed me that I should be admitted here without
guards. True, I was unarmed, and any injury I
might do the Duke would not help me to escape,
but nevertheless his indiflFerent unconcern showed
in strange contrast to the action of Prince Antonio,
who had dared speak to me only when my hands
were bound. However, I had no mind to attempt
any mischief. This man was my enemy, he had cap-
tured me, and by all the laws of warfare it was his

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right to wipe the score clean by my death. I was
prepared to suffer without complaint, and as I wait-
ed I confessed inwardly that I preferred to suffer at
this man's bidding rather than at that of the Prince
of Verona.

The Duke leaned back in his chair and regarded
me with inscrutable intentness. "You have been my
foe for a long time, Sir John," he said, "and though
in my life I have had many foes, princes and dukes
and cardinals and generals, rich men and proud,
strong men and great, I must do you the justice of
admitting that none of them brought me such dis-
tress as you. It was natural, that. Kings and
princes are often poor soldiers, and you are a very
good one. For years now, whatever duchy or re-
public you supported, you have found yourself ar-
rayed in arms against Padua. You have taken my
towns and pillaged them, and ravaged my country,
and razed my castles. You have baffled me as no
other man on earth has ever done. I am not patient,
and therefore, some time since, I took an oath
of vengeance against you. Perhaps it reached your
ears?"

"To be sure," I nodded, caressing the head of
the great dog, who was still licking at my hand.
"You swore that if ever I fell into your power, you
would hang me like any thief — have I not got it
right?"

He looked at me steadily, as if searching for
some sign of fear or weakness. "And what did you

Sir John Havvkwood

277

do," he asked curiously, "when you heard of my
intention ?"

"Faith, I swore an oath of my own," I answered.
"I swore that if ever you fell into my power I
would march you through my camp tied to my stir-
rup, that all might see the end to which Sir John
Hawkwood brings his enemies."

The Duke smiled, without any sign of resentment.
"Those who told me that you had courage did not
lie," he said thoughtfully. "There is no reason
why I should show you any mercy. Sir John. You
agree with me, do you not? It is evident that you
would have shown me none. You have injured
me in a thousand ways, and you have dene me but
one service "

"I did that one without intent, then," I cried, "nor
can I call it to mind, my lord."

"A week ago," he answered, "you sent me my
young cousin, the Princess Giulia, of whom I have
long sought to get possession."

"It was for her own sake I did that, not for yours,
and you owe me no thanks," I answered curtly. I
had no wish to speak of the Princess. Death and
I were old friends, I could face him with a calm
defiance, but I was not sure that I could talk of
Madonna Giulia without playing the woman.

"After all," the Duke said deliberately, "I am
not sure that you did me so great a service when
you sent her to me. I desired a rich and docile
ward, whom I might give in marriage in a fashion

278

Sir John Hawkwood

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which would increase my power by a suitable alli-
ance. Instead, I find myself saddled with a lady
whose lands remain in the clutches of Antonio della
Scala; a lady, moreover, who appears far from pli-
ant—who has, in fact, a strong will of her own, and
is scarce likely to play the part of a pawn in my
game of chess. It may be that very soon I shall
wish her back in Verona, unless she mends her
ways."

I could have sworn that there was a twinkle in his
eye, and certainly I was near laughter myself. Ma-
donna Giulia was assuredly not one to wed accord-
ing to her cousin's will, or to follow any guidance
save that of her own desires. "Truly, you are right,
my lord," I said cheerfully. ''If you join issue with
the Princess, I think you will find her a worse enemy
than ever you found me."

"Well, then, it is plain that I owe you nothing at
all," he pointed out briskly. "Do you wish to throw
yourself upon my mercy, to make an appeal for
grace ?"

"No, my lord," I answered, crumpling the dog's
ears in my fingers. "Why should I do that? We
have been fair foes for years. You should never
have caught me could I have prevented it, but for-
tune has proved your friend, and you have got me
at last. Very well, I do not complain; it is a risk I
have long taken. Call in your men and order them
to string me up. I will submit with a good grace,

Sir John Hawkwood

279

and wish you joy of your victory and your venge-
ance."

"You do not wish to plead, then?" he asked cu-
riously.

"I am sure, my lord," I answered, with the bow
I had learned in the days when I served Prince
Edward, and which I had not troubled to bestow
on Antonio della Scala and his like, "that you would
not have begged mercy of me had I captured you.
Give me credit, I beg, for being as good a soldier as
yourself."

"Yet I scarce dare order your execution," he
murmured, with a grave shake of the head. "You
cannot know in what peril I stand on your ac-
count "

"Peril ?" I stared at him blankly.

"Peril, indeed. There is a madman here in Padua,
the Irish gentleman who brought the Princess from
Verona. He has forced his way into my presence
a dozen times, now pleading, now threatening. He
kneels before me and craves mercy for you with
tears in his eyes, then leaps up and swears to kill
me if a hair of your head falls, though I shelter
myself behind a thousand bolts and bars and defend
myself with a thousand soldiers. I could find him
diverting, this gentleman, if he did not cause me to
go in hourly terror of my life. Do you find it
agreeable, Sir John, to have a madman for a
friend r

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I laughed despite myself, but there was a moist-
ure m my eyes, so exactly did this account jibe
with the action I should have expected from Michael
O Meara. If I had but one ally in the world, at
least that one was devoted and faithful to the death
Messer O'Meara was never made to move in courts
rtyy lord," I answered. "He has too true a heart'
Do not let him suffer because of his loyalty to
me— that is the one request I shall ever make you."
He looked at me again in silence. "You are not
the man I had pictured you, Sir John Hawkwood,"
he said at last. "It does not cause me great surprise
that this Messer O'Meara defends you with such
warmth. I think I might have felt some fondness
for you myself had you served me instead of fighting
me with such fury. Why did you sell your sword
to Antonio della Scala ?"

"Not for love of him, my lord, for I always held
him a villain," I answered frankly. "For a bag of
gold coins."

"That speech runs with the evil tales I have heard
of you, but not with the nature I had thought I
read in your face," said the Duke, and I, famed
over all Italy for my truculence, stood dumb be-
neath the rebuke; for it was so that the Black
Prince might have spoken. "Does an English knight
combat only for gain? Well, no matter. Tell me
th,s-when you fought me in Delia Scala's cause,
did you believe that he had the right of the quar-
rel ? ^

Sir John Havvkwood

281

"No, my lord," I answered, looking him frankly
in the eyes. "I believed you to be right ; but for my
own interest I chose to fight on the other side."

"And now Antonio della Scala has thrown you off
and turned against you — for his own interests," said
the Duke shrewdly. "And you blame him for that,
no doubt; yet is the one worse than the other?"

"That is true," I answered honestly, for it was
never my way to avoid a fair thrust. "But it is
useless to talk of this, my lord— I have seen these
things before you pointed them out. I have learned
much in the past few days "

"And I could guess, I think, who was your teach-
er," the Duke interrupted, with that strange hint of a
smile playing once more about his lips. "Then if you
were not to die so soon. Sir John, you would in fu-
ture sell your sword only where there was right as
well as gold ?"

"Small use to consider such questions now!" I
cried. "Your hangman will save me the trouble
of putting together the pieces of my life. Come,
why do you not call him in ? I think, on the whole,
I prefer death to the cheerful occupation of consid-
ering my past sins."

The Duke of Padua rose from his chair and
stood facing me across the table. "Before I call
in the hangman, let us have matters clear between
us," he said calmly. "If you were to live longer,
Sir John, you would fight only for a cause you ap-
proved; and you believe that in my quarrel with

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Sir John Hawkwood

Antonio della Scala I am in the right. Is that
true?"

I looked at him blankly. The dog, anxious for
more caresses, began to jump on me fawningly,
but I scarcely noted it in the sudden whirl of my
thoughts.

'•This being the case," said Francesco Carrara
cheerfully, "will you take service with me, Sir John
Hawkwood? If you consent, I will do for you
what I have never done before— I will break my
oath, and forego my vengeance. No doubt I can
get absolution for my broken vow from his Holiness
the Pope, who is well disposed to me at present.
Well, and how say you ?"

Still I stared at him in silence. The thing was

so unexpected that I could find no words. The

Duke continued to regard me with a quiet smile.

"Well," he said, "have you hated me so long

that you cannot bring yourself to fight in my cause?

That will pass ; last month I hated you with all my

heart, yet now I find you as much to my taste as

ever I found a man yet. Take service v.ith me,

and within the year we will have driven Antonio

della Scala out of Verona. It is said that you are

the best soldier in Italy, Sir John, and I think

you will be of more use to me in armor and a-horse-

back than dangling by a halter. Am I not

right?"

"You do not mean that I shall die ?" I stammered,
far more at a loss than when I had believed that he

Sir John Hawkwood

283

was bent upon my execution. "You wish me to live
•—to serve you ?"

"I read once, in some old book," said the Duke,
thoughtfully, "that a foe, won over, sometimes
makes a better ally than one who has always been
devoted. And it is my own belief, Sir John, that
the man who makes as brave an enemy as you
should make the best of friends. We have grown
to know each other well, you and I, because we
hated; but I think we might as easily feel affection.
You are to my taste, a thing I cannot say of many
men. Am I, perhaps, to yours?"

"Yes," I said, in a low voice that was not alto-
gether steady, "to my taste as never any man I have
served, save one, has ever been. I will repay you,
my lord. I will fight for you as I fought years ago
in France "

"That is well," the Duke responded cheerfully,
"for I mean to put the command of all my forces
in your hands. You might do me great treachery
and bring me to ruin if you abused my trust, but I
do not fear that. I have learned to read men, Sir
John, and I can read you."

"If you read me right, you read great gratitude,
my lord," I answered, and bent my knee to him as
I had not bent it to any ruler since I stood for the
last time before the Black Prince.

%• i

\-f*

Klil -

CHAPTER XIX

IN DUKR rRANCESCO's GARDEN

Before me stretched a wilderness of flowers and
trees, threaded by walks paved with marble. Broad
sloping terraces, covered by many-hued blossoms,
ran off toward the distant walls that shut the palace
in. Roses grew all about in flaming vivid masses,
and lilies and myrtle were everywhere. I heard the
soft plashing of many fountains, and the murmur
of water in the conduits. Nothing met my eyes save
flowers and foliage and birds and great floating but-
terflies, and the warm blue of the spring-time
heaven. It was like a scene from the Decameron,
those romantic tales which I had heard so many
fair ladies quote in Florence.

The Duke of Padua had walked with me to the
gate of the garden, his hand resting on my shoul-
der. "You will find her in among the blossoms,
my pretty cousin," he said, as he left me. "She de-
sires to thank you for the service that you did her.
She says, Sir John, that never in any tale of chiv-
alry did she read of a more gallant knight than
you." He turned away, and I passed into the gar-
den, still dazed with the happenings of the last hour.

384

Sir John Hawkwood

285

Where to search for the Princess I did not know,
but as I wandered aimlessly down one of the many
paths a sound of talk and laughter fell on my ears,
and an instant later I stumbled on as pretty a scene
as man could wish. On the rim of a marble foun-
tarn, dipping her hands in the foamy spray, sat
Francesca di Montalto, looking as sweet as Fiam-
metta of the Decameron herself. She had a crown
of roses in her misty golden hair, and flowers lay
thick about her feet where she had dropped tliem
when she began to play with the water. O'Meara
sat beside her, singing an Irish love catch and
laughing down into her upturned face. So ab-
sorbed and happy did they appear that I would
have passed on had not they caught sight of me
and leapt up with a cry of welcome.

"Glory be!" O'Meara whooped ecstatically, bear-
ing down upon me. " 'Tis Sir John himself, or
may I never swing a sword or drain a glass again!
Oh, Sir John dear, 'tis a sight for sore eyes you are
and this hour's the happiest of my life! Sorra a
free breath did I draw while you were in Delia
Scala's hands, I swear it be every saint in the Cal-
endar!" He caugh. ne in his arms and hugged me
until my ribs were near to cracking, then released
me and began to dance around me in a circle. "Glory
be! Glory be!" he repeated again and again, be-
tween tears and laughter. "Bedad, I knew very
well 'twas not Antonio della Scala would have the
killing of you. It's free you are, and good times are

I:
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286

Sir John Hawkwood

coming, and there's not a cloud in the sky saving
for the one small consideration that I lost the joy of
seeing you kill Ranucio dclla Torre, that jewel of
a Veronese! Have you seen the Duke of Padua,
Sir John? Has he been after offering you service,
as he swore to me by all that's holy that he would?
I pledged my soul to run him through unless he did,
and faith, I'd keep my word, no less!" He flung
himself on me again, and for some moments we
behaved in the most foolish fashion possible.

"And now," O'Meara continued presently, draw-
ing himself up in a stately manner, "I'll be thanking
you, Sir John, to congratulate me in proper terms
on my new dignity." He paused impressively.
" Tis a stupendousi/ exalted person you have now
the honor to address, little as ye guess it."

"Why, what has come to you ?" I demanded.

"What you'll never credit — what I couldn't credit
mesilf till I'd heard it a dozen times and more," he
assured me. "My uncle's gone, and may God rest
his soul and forgive him for all the hard thoughts he
ever had of me — he was right in some of them, I'm
fearing— and pardon me for all the hard words
I've ever said of him — and some of those were gos-
pel truth too!" He crossed himself piously as a
conclusion to this strange petition. "Well, and
what do you say to that, now? I'll thank you to
swear at me no more when you've taken a drop
too much, nor yet to risk me precious life in send-
ing me on enterprises that you well know are hope-

Sir John Hawkwood 287

less, and that arc only saved from being such by
the brilliant genius that distinguishes ivcry one of
my actions! Is it stricken dumb yxi are, or what
for do you stare at me as at a banshee?"

"Your uncle dead !" I repeated slowly. "But how
have you learned that, Michael?"

"Faith, 'twas like a page from a romance," he
declared cheerfully. "The news came to me through
old Patrick, the truest-hearted creature in all this
wide world, who served me when I was a lad, and
my father before me. I sent him a word from
time to time, all these years, and he alone of all in
Ireland knew of my whereabouts, ro when my uncle
died — God rest his soul, and deal better by it than
it deserves! — he crossed the seas and turned his
face toward Verona to bring me the news. On his
way he paused here in Padua for a night's shelter,
and met me, who had come here with the Princess.
'Twas a clear act of Providence, no less. Oh, 'tis
as true as gospel. Sir John. I've gold to throw to
the birds if I choose — but I'll not, I'll throw it at
Madonna Francesca's little feet instead. Do you
comprehend, 'tis myself can make her my Lady
O'Meara now, whenever she ceases to torment me
and makes me the happiest man the sun shines on."

Again I wrung his hands, with warm words of
pleasure and congratulation. "But I thought,
Michael, that Madonna Francesca had ceased long
ago to torture you," I said slyly, M'ith a glance at
that blushing witch. "The night you left Castel

'«

fir

288

Sir John Hawkwood

Paura she seemed far from averse to treating you
with kindness "

"Bedad, and that's what I tell her," cried the
Irishman, "but she has the grand air of one who re-
members nothing! She flouts me, she that threw
herself in my arms that night, never waiting to be
properly entreated! 'Tis a bold-faced minx she
is, no doubt of it. Tell me this now, what cause
had she to guess I wanted her pretty arms stealing
about my neck, that she dared to risk that same "

"Oh!' Francesca cried indignantly. "You are
very brutal, Messer O'Meara, and very foolish as
well. It was only fright that made me do so, and
I will never wed you, never, ne\er "

"Sure and you will, mavourneen," he blarneyed,
going closer to htr, "when you know that should you
do anything else I'd go mad entirely, no less. My
heart's under those p.^tty feet of yours — not an
instant of happiness do I know save in the light of
your eyes — come, be merciful, now, or I'll be after
dying before your sight!"

She smiled shyly, showing two deep dimples that
might well have maddened a colder man than
O'Meara. "Do you hold me so dear, indeed, indeed,
Messer Michele?" she murmured, struggling hard
with the name of Michael, a word ill adapted to
Italian lips. His arm went around her, and she
swayed toward him. I turned away. O'Meara was
my oldest comrade, my truest ally, but I knew that
at times the best friend may outwear his welcome.

Sir John Hawkwood

289

In the distance I caught the flutter of a dress; no
doubt it was the Princess. I would go find her.

My heart was heavy as I strode along, treading
the flowers under ' i> spurred feet. Glad as I
was of Michael's happiness, it seemed to throw into
sharp contrast my own loneliness and the hopeless-
ness of my love. For a moment I ceased to rejoice
over the miraculous good fortune that had come to
me, the saving of my life, the graciousness of Fran-
cesco Carrara, and found myself remembering only
that the two behind me, the Irish soldier and the
Veronese girl, were tasting a bliss for the want of
which I must go lonely and longing to the day of
my death. The perfumed breeze swept across my
face, the birds sang merrily, the odor of flowers rose
all about me, but there was pain at my heart and a
dead weight of suffering on my spirit.
"Sir John Hawkwood! Is it you?"
Before me, among the roses and the lilies, stood
the Princess. She wore a dress of pale golden bro-
cade belted and broidered with great sapphires, and
there were jewels on her neck and in her dusky hair.
Her fingers were full of a great mass of crimson
flowers, over which a huge butterfly hovered long-
ingly, waving its gaudy wings. She was beautiful
beyond all sights that I had ever seen, and her face,
upturned to mine, stole away all my strength and
left me weak and silent, staring at her as a worship-
per gazes at a niched saint. I had seen her many
times, and always her loveliness had been great

29"

Sir John Hawkwood

!i!i Hi

i f

enough to wring my heart, but never had I seen her
so tair as now. There was a new charm clinging
all about her, a look of youth and happiness, and
the smile that curved her scarlet mouth spoke all of
sweetnebs, not at all of the pride and disdain that
had so often marred her beauty. "You have come.
Sir John! You have come at last, and you have no
more to fear from Antonio della Scala!" she said
joyously, and held out both her hands.

I knelt and kissed them, finding no words. She
was welcoming me with all graciousness, greeting
me with such favor as I had never dared to look
for, yet I felt further from her than on the day
when I had first spoken to her in the Prince's loggia,
and she had scorned and mocked me and refused to
listen to my warning. My eyes turned on her again
as I let her hands go, and I caught my breath sharply
for very pain. She stood here in the garden of the
Duke of Padua, whose ward and kinswoman she
was; her rich dress, her jewels, the flowers and
marble that framed her bright figure — all these
things were her proper setting. What was mine?
The camp, or the tavern, or a wild and bloody bat-
tle, but never a palace. She was the Princess Gi-
ulia, I was Sir John Hawkwood, a mercenary and a
leader of free companions. I would do well to leave
her as soon as might be, and never again to approach
one GO far above me.

"You have seen the Duke ?" she was asking eager-
ly. "You have had speech with him, Sir John?"

;1 '^^

Sir John Hawkwood

291

you service, and his

"Yes, Madonna Giulia."

"And he has offered
favor?"

"Yes, Princess." I could say no more. Her
beauty, her radiant kindness, her sweet words all
seemed to make my case but the more hopeless.
Even this show of favor, I told myself savagely,
was but the graciousness of one too proud not to
requite the service done by a man far below her.

"It gives me joy to see you here, Sir John," she
said, her voice trembling. "While you lay in An-
tonio's hands, while I knew that your life was im-
periled for your kindness to me — ah, I had little
pleasure then! Had you paid so dearly for my
saving. I think I would never have known peace
again."

The trees rustled softly in the scented wind. At
my feet lay the scarlet flowers that Madonna Giulia
had dropped when I kissed her hands. The great
butterfly floated down upon them, spread his wings,
and began to draw out the honey.

"What is it, Sir John?" said the Princess, and
I felt her hand laid lightly on my sleeve. "Is not all
well with you? Why do you knit your brows and
bite your lip?"

With an effort I gathered myself up and faced
her as bravely as might be. "All is indeed well with
me," I cried, "if I find you well and happy, Princess.
Come, tell me, have you made a change for the bet-
ter ? Will you find Padua as fair a home as Verona

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292

Sir John Hawkwood

was, and is Duke Francesco as much to your taste
as Prince Antonio?"

She bowed her head. "I breathe freely for the
first time in many years," she answered, "In that
bloody Court of my cousin's I lived in terror, though
my pride made me conceal it from all the world. It
IS -"n evil dream to me now, yet a dream I do not
regret, for without it I had never known the bravest
knight that ever served lady." She smiled on me
in a sweet fashion that wellnigh wrung a groan
from my lips. "I am happy here, Sir John. I find
Duke Francesco a kind gentleman, a loving kins-
man."

"That is well," I answered. "He will cherish you
truly, and wed you in the end to an Este or a Gon-
zaga, some great prince who will set you on a
throne." My voice turned bitter on the words, and
I scorned myself for the weakness. None who had
looked at her then could have pictured her in any
home save a royal one, yet the thought hurt me
beyond bearing.

She smiled wisely and shook her head. "So he saiil
when first I came to him, but now he knows better,"
she murmured. Coming a step closer to me across
the flowers, she looked up into my eyes. "I have
learned a great deal in a little time. Sir John," she
said softly. "A month ago I was a proud, hard girl ;
vain of my rank, scornful of all the world save the
few that had crowns upon their brows. But to-day
I am different. I have learned that royal blood is a

Sir John Hawkwood

293

poor thing if not backed by a noble nature. Which
bore himself in the more knightly fashion toward
me, Sir John Hawkwood who is of poor birth, or
Antonio della Scala who is the last of a great line of
rulers? I have learned a great deal. If ever I wed,
it will not be for place or for power, but for
love."

My breath came fast as I looked across the bril-
liant garden. In the distance I saw O'Meara take
Francesca in his hold and kiss her, and a wild long-
ing seized me to throw out my arms and take the
Princess into them. "May you have love and power
too, and all other blessings," I said, my voice
shaking. "I shall pray always for that. Madonna
Giulia."

Her lustrous dark eyes were still smiling into
mine, stealing away my strength. "The love would
be enough. Sir John — without the place — without
the power," she said softly.

"Then thrice happy the man to whom you will
some day give your love," I said, clenching my
hands, wondering for how long I could find strength
to meet her smiling gaze.

She glanced down at the gaudy butterfly on the
bright flowers. "Do you remember. Sir John," she
asked, in a low voice, "what you told me in Caste!
Paura concerning a dream of yours ? You dreamed
that if I loved enough I might find strength to lay
aside my rank and wealth, to put off my pride of
blood like a worn garment, to face poverty boldly

f |i

•>;'

iilh

mii

294

Sir John Hawkwood

and laugh at it so long as the man I loved stood by
my side "

She broke off, and I stood speechless, my heart
twisted by the memory that her words had called
up. I had told her that in Castel Paura on the
night of the Prince's coming, and she had heard
me gently and without scorn. Why did she hu t me
now by speaking of what could never be ?

"Ah," she cried suddenly and sharply, her hand
falling from my sleeve as she swayed away, "you
are unkind, Sir John. You shame me. Will you
not help me ever so little, then?"

"Help you. Madonna Giulia?" I cried, amazed,
but very eager now. "Do you mean that there is
something which I may yet do for your service?
Tell me then, for on my honor I had never hoped
for such happiness as to aid you once more "

"Yes, there is something you may do to serve me,"
she said. She turned her face up to mine again, and
I saw tears in her eyes and laughter on her lips.
"You may marry me. Sir John Hawkwood," she
murmured, in a wonderful voice unlike any sound
that had ever reached my ears, "you may marry me,
if your love has not died since last you told me
of it!"

For an instant I stared at her like one gone mad.
A great joy swept over me, an exaltation and tri-
umph such as I had never known could exist on
earth. The beating of my heart grew faster and

Sir John Hawkwood 295

faster until it hurt me. "You love me?" I mut-
tered. "You love me?"

She dropped her eyes. Into her cheeks crept a
soft warm flush, and her lips trembled strangely.
"Yes, Sir John. Yes, I love you."

I could not move hand or foot ; a spell seemed to
bind me and keep me gazing at her beautiful low-
ered head. "Since when?" I heard myself say.
"Since when— Giulia? Since the days in Castel
Paura?"

"Before that," she murmured, so low that I could
scarcely catch the words.

"What," I cried, "did you love me when I seized
you at the inn and carried you away ?"

"Before that," she whispered.

"On the day when I spoke to you in the Prince's
loggia to warn you of the plot ?" I did not know my
own voice now.

She looked at me once more, her eyes swimming
with tears and laughter. "I loved you from the
time when first you came to Verona, my knight,"
she told me bravely. "I loved you when I saw you
march through the streets with your Company. I
hung from the window to watch you, and dreamed
afterward of your face, and when you passed me
in the palace my heart leapt at sound of your step.
But I was hard and proud, and scorned all who were
not royal ; and I heard many evil tales of you, and
despised myself that I could not tear the thought of
you from my mind. I was angered against you un-

litH

296

Sir John Hawkwood

til at times I believed my heart was full of hate.
Yet through it all I loved you. I loved you when
I spoke most cruelly to you, I loved you when I de-
spised you most for the tales I heard of your life—
I loved you when, mad with rage because I thought
you had carried me oflF to sell me to the Duke, I
would have stabbed you there in the castle. Can
you forgive me? You thought always of my ser-
vice, and I scorned you, mocked you, would have
killed you. I have been proud and wayward and
cruel, but if you will forgive me — if you will let
me be your wife, Sir John— I will be very obedient
and very true ; I will teach you that I am not all un-
grateful "

I flung out my arms to gather her to me, then
dropped them with a groan. "It cannot be, GiuHa,"
I cried hoarsely. "I cannot wrong you by taking
you to wife. You are a Princess, a lad}- of royal
blood and great possessions "

"I have very little now," she answered, smiling
as if lands and gold were nothing. "Antonio has all
my inheritance in his grasp. I will come to you
very poor — you will be generous to wed so undow-
ered a bride."

"I am to march against Antonio," I answered des-
perately. I had never fought so hard a battle as
this one in all my days ; I had never feared a sword
as I feared the light of her tender eyes. "Duke
Francesco and I will get you back your lands, and
you will be rich again "

Sir John Havvkwood

297-

"Then Duke Francesco shall add them to his pos-
sessions," she cried, with the gesture of one who
tosses away a thing of little worth. "I have told
him that he may keep as much of my inheritance as
it pleases him. As for me, I shall be content to
have my husband's love."

"Giulia! Giulia!" I groaned. "You cannot wed
such a man as I. You are great, you are royal, and
I am a tanner's son "

"The more honor to you then, my dear lord,
that you have a nature nobler than that of any
king," she answered, dropping me such a stately
curtsy as she might have made to the Duke of
Padua.

"I am a rough soldier," I cried. "I am a cap-
tain of mercenaries, a leader of free lances. I have
been a bully and a cutthroat, a tavern loiterer, a
street fighter "

"You are a knight and a gentleman and a soldier,"
she said, with her head high. "I shall never blush
to wear your name — I am proud of you, and I love
you."

"It is madness," I groaned. "It cannot be "

"I love you," she said again. With a sudden
graceful movement she fell on her knees on the
flowery sward before me, turning up a tearful laugh-
ing face full of such tender lovelight as sapped my
last strength away. "Will you wed me, Sir John
Hawkwood?" she murmured. "Will you marry
me? See, I am on my knees before you. If you

298

Sir John Hawkwood

are true chevalier and gallant knight you will never

suffer a lady to humble herself in vain "

"Giulia !" I cried, as I caught her to her feet and
pressed her in my arms. "Giulia, my beloved!"
And it seemed to mc that the sun shone brighter and
the wind blew softer and the flower-scent grew more
rich and sweet as her lips met mine in the glory of
our first kiss.

THE END

NOTE

The great English contloltiere, Sir John Hawk-
wood, was in command of the Paduan forces at the
battle of Castagnaro, on which occasion Antonio
della Scala, the last ruler of the house of Scaliger,
was disastrously defeated and put to flight. Soon
afterward this unfortunate Prince was forced to
quit Verona in disguise and to seek a refuge at
Venice, where after a short and unhappy exile he
died. Verona fell into the hands of Francesco Car-
rara, Duke of Padua.

Sir John Hawkwood lived to a green old ag*^
and died full of years and honors, leaving sons
who later returned to England and there carried
on the name of their famous father. He was deeply
and sincerely mourned by many of those whom he
had served, above all by the Republic of Florence,
which accorded him a magnificent state funeral, and
placed in its great Cathedral an equestrian picture
of the great soldier, which may be seen there to
this day.

\' H-

.m>:i*

The Passover

(Aal

By CLIFFORD HOWARD.

i6mo; cloth. „et, ||.o*

Author 9/ "The Story of a Young Man."

"A Life of Christ/' "Did Jesua Live

in Nazareth?" etc., etc.

The author has Jesus say to John in com-
meriting upon his betrayal by Judas; "No

man would forsake
his friend except he
was constrained by
some untoward temp-
tation." Orthodox
records and traditions
offer no hint as to
the nature of this
untoward t e m p t a-
tion, of this extraor-
dinary and ruthless,
overmastering im-
pulse which alone
could have led a
chosen friend, and a
friend who for more

J t. .... .1''*" t^° years had

proved himself faithful and worthy, to
suddenly renounce his love and confidence
and plot to kill him who had been his con-
stant companion alike in trial and disap-
pointment and triumph and success. Cer-

*ainly, the lure of thirty pieces of silver

less than twenty dollars— cannot be accepted
as anything like an adequate explanation of
so remarkable and tragic a revulsion of
feeling.

R. F. FENNO ft CO., i8 East 17th St., N. Y.

The Vulture's Claw

By C. P. WIIIBBRLEY.

Author of "New Clothe* for the Old Man."
"A Cry in the Night," etc., etc.

lamo; cloth.

fi.5a>

A itory of interesting incidents, quaint
sayings, and a certain irresistible humor that

makes the whole book
appeal to the reader.
The originality of the
plot and the moral it
carries cannot help
but be recognized and
appreciated. It throbs
with human feeling
and energy; from the
standpoint of an eni
tertaining story it is
easily the peer of the
writings of John Fox,
Jr., and Harold Bell
Wright.

From the lovely
bluegrass regions of Kentucky to the rugged
Osarks we are taken, and it is in the por«
trayal of the simple dwellers of the hills
that the author is at his best.

fi. F. FENNO ft CO., i8 East Z7th St, N. Y.

;i|S

^Hiji

Sister dementia

By FREDERICK H. LAW.
i2ino; cloth. |x>50.

"Sister Clementia" is a story of deep, pas-
sionate and lasting love. Like Hawthorne's
"Scarlet Letter," it is also a story of sin and

its consequence. Th^
heroine, who is the
central figure through-
out, is young, sweet
womanly, passionate
impulsive and thor.
oughly charming — a
character that one
loves from the first,
and whom the reader
will not forget when
he has read the book.
Having become in-
volved in an unusual situation, she is seen
struggling between two ideals of duty. Im-
pulsive and always ready to sacrifice herself
for others, she entangles herself in a series
of striking events, with such unexpected
terminations that the reader is interested
from page to page. The story tells how she
takes the failure of her life, repairs its
wrong, and at last succeeds in finding a
well-deserved happiness.

R. F. FENNO & CO., i8 East 17th St, N. Y.

111 !

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For Charles the Rover

By MAY WYNNE.

12ino, cloth

$1.50

Author of "Henry of
Navarre," etc., etc.

A rattling good
story of love and in-
trigue in good old
Ireland in the days
and for the cause of
Charles the Rover.

"Of all the days that's in the year
The tenth of June I love most dear.
When sweet white roses do appear •'
For sake of Charles the Rover. '

"Our noble Ormond, he is drest,
A rose is glancing at his breast;
His famous hounds have doffed his crest.
White roses deck them over."

R. F. FENNO & CO., i8 East 17th St, N. Y.

[if

m ■

i-ji

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A fi

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Fanny Lambert

By HENRY DEVERE STACPOOLB.

Anthor of "The Crimson Azales " "Tht
Blue Lagoon/' etc., etc

i2nio; cloth.

Ix.50.

The two chief figures in this story are
Fanny Lambert and
her father, two en-
tirely unconventional
characters, delightful-
ly simple and un-
worldly. The book is
full of irresistably
humorous touches, ir-
responsible fun
being, in fact, its
characteristic f e a -
ture. The lesser figures, down to the
merest thumbnail sketches, are all in-
cisively drawn.

R. P. FENNO & CO., 18 East 17th St, N. Y.

I I *

re
id
n-
al
li-
n-
ts

r-
n
ts
i-
le