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Silvestro opened wide those blue eyes, which had wrought such havoc among the Paduan nobility. "Black, Andrea!" he whispered again; "black as pig's blood!" Andrea crossed himself. "Pio Cristo," he prayed, "let me kill a Jew some day!" Even then Castracane, the sceptic, was not satisfied.
So ending as he began, he danced about the hill-top, wringing his hands. But Silvestro, very pale, came quickly up, and laid hold of him. "Tell me all, Andrea," says he; "for I know nothing except that I love Castracane and will save him. Who has taken him?" "It is a lord the Sotto-Prefetto the hook-nosed gentleman with thin eyebrows; him they call Messer Alessandro.
"We have arrived at the dreadful field of Altopascio, where Castruccio Castracane cut up the Florentine legions," says he, "and now, friend, your trials begin.
"Silvestro is my name, Signore," says he; and Andrea knew his game. "We have found our bird, I think," said Alessandro, turning to his men. "Yes, Excellency, this is the lad we want. There was another of them Castracane they call him." "Ah, yes. Where is Castracane, fellow?" "He is over Venda. Gone to Noventa, to his mother," replied Castracane. "Well, we don't want him so far as I know.
"Hey, comrade," said he, grinning, "one sees that the Jew's stair was easier going for thee than Ortone." And he prodded her with his staff. This was not friendly. Ippolita did her best to humour him. "I go up as well as I can, Castracane," she said. "But do you go first, if you will." "Nay, nay," he replied, with a chuckle; "I make very good practice in the rear."
It was certainly a night of wonder. Castracane's arm slipped down to Silvestro's waist; Silvestro sighed, and snuggled into the haven it made. "O holy night!" said he. "Now might miracles happen, and we be by." "Ah," said Castracane, "the miracle of choice would be an angel with a basket of bread and cheese or a beautiful maiden to come and lie in one's arms." Silvestro thrilled.
Silvestro grew hot desperate. Why, after all, would one kill a Jew? Something must be urged, something solid. "There was Annina, you know," said Silvestro, at his wit's end. "Annina that girl you were with? What of her?" Castracane licked his lips. "Well, this Jew, you must understand, was a limber young fellow " "Young!" shouted the other. "You told me he had a great grey beard like a goat."
Not to mention the republics of Lombardy and Romagna, which took the final stamp of despotism at the beginning of the fourteenth century, it is noticeable that Pisa submitted to Uguccione da Faggiuola, Lucca to Castruccio Castracane, and Florence to the Duke of Athens.
Machiavelli's Vita di Castruccio Castracane, though it is rather a historical romance than a trustworthy biography, illustrates the gradual advances made by a bold and ambitious leader from the Captaincy of the people, conferred upon him for one year, to the tyranny of his city.
Silvestro looked about for help: they were out of sight of the others, and there lay Padua, slumbrous in the plain. It seemed as if Castracane meant quarrelling. Well, what must be, must be. "I don't care whether you believe it or not. Now then?" The blue eyes were steady enough on the black by this time. "Look here," said Castracane after a pause, "I'll fight you if you like. That'll settle it."
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