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He found the family at bay in their hall, the father and his three sons naked except for the shirts of mail that they had hastily slipped on. Behind these four huddled the Grangioia women and children, for the most part pallid from fury rather than from fear, silently awaiting the end. However, Cercamorte's purpose was not to destroy this clan, but to force it into submission to his marquis.
But suddenly Lapo Cercamorte was gayer than he had been since the fall of Grangioia Castle. Every morning, when he had inquired after Madonna Gemma's health, and had sent her all kinds of tidbits, he went down to sit among his men, to play morra, to test swordblades, to crack salty jokes, to let loose his husky guffaw.
It is only your family calling with some of their friends. I entered Grangioia Castle abruptly; now it is tit for tat." The crone brought two helmets, which Lapo and Baldo put on. Then, drawing their long swords, they awaited the onset. The keep gate yielded, and into the hall came rushing a wave of peaked and painted shields.
In those petty Guelph courts, wherever the tender lore of Provence had sanctified the love of troubadour for great lady, the noblemen cried out in fury; the noblewomen, transformed into tigresses, demanded Lapo's death. Old Grangioia and his three sons arrived at the Muti fortress raving for sudden vengeance.
"Now we will give your carcass to the wild beasts, your brothers!" "Let my daughter pass through," bawled old Grangioia; then, receiving no response, struck clumsily at Lapo. With a twist of his sword Lapo disarmed the old man, calling out: "Keep off, kinsman! I will not shed Grangioia blood unless you force me to it. Let Muti come forward.
The masses in the courtyard, inhuman-looking in their ponderous, barrel-shaped helmets, surged forward at the keep with a thunderous outcry: "Grangioia! Grangioia! Havoc on Cercamorte!" "Muti! Muti! Havoc on Cercamorte!" "God and the Monfalcone!" "Strike for Zaladino! Havoc on Cercamorte!" Lapo bared his teeth at them. "By the Five Wounds! half of Lombardy seems to be here.
So, when he had persuaded them to throw down their swords, he put off his flat-topped helmet and seated himself with the Grangioia men. A bargain ensued; he gave them their lives in exchange for their allegiance. And it would have ended there had not the sun, reaching in through a casement toward the group of silent women, touched the face of old Grangioia's youngest daughter, Madonna Gemma.
With a gesture old Grangioia commanded his sons to sit still. After glowering round him at the wall of mail, he let his head sink down, and faltered: "Do you marry her, Cercamorte?" "Why not?" croaked Lapo. "Having just made a peace shall I give offence so soon? No, in this case I will do everything according to honour." That morning Lapo Cercamorte espoused Madonna Gemma Grangioia.
With a hundred men at his back he rode by night to Grangioia Castle. As day was breaking, by a clever bit of stratagem he rushed the gate. Then in that towering, thick-walled fortress, which had suddenly become a trap, sounded the screaming of women, the boom of yielding doors, the clang of steel on black staircases, the battlecries, wild songs, and laughter of Lapo Cercamorte's soldiers.
Yet even the long stare of Lapo Cercamorte she answered with a look of defiance. The conqueror rose, went jingling to her, thumbed a strand of her bright hair, touched her soft cheek with his fingers, which smelled of leather and horses. Grasping her by the elbow, he led her forward. "Is this your daughter, Grangioia? Good. I will take her as a pledge of your loyalty."
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