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Ercole had chosen this man because he was intelligent, and had made him understand enough of what was toward, besides offering a substantial reward if he played his part well, and Aventano waited. But Gonzaga, knowing naught of this, abandoned at the last moment the notion of bribing him which Ercole had enjoined him, and which he in his turn had promised Ercole was the course he would pursue.
Since then we have made a brave display of cannon ourselves; and if yesterday he dared not fire, think you he will to-day? But here, assure yourselves, if there is one amongst you that can read." He held out the letter to them. Cappoccio took it, and calling one Aventano, he held it out in his turn.
This Aventano, a youth who had been partly educated for the Church, but had fallen from that lofty purpose, now stood forward and took the letter. He scrutinised it, read it aloud, and pronounced it genuine. "Whom is it addressed to?" demanded Cappoccio. "Nay, nay!" cried Francesco. "What need for that?" "Let be," Cappoccio answered, almost fiercely.
There was nothing Ercole relished less than to be laughed at. He pondered a moment, and it occurred to him that perhaps he was making much of nothing. Then: "You, Aventano," he called, "take your partisan, and patrol the eastern rampart. There, Messer Gonzaga, I have obeyed your wishes; but Messer Francesco shall hear of it when he comes his rounds." Gonzaga left him.
"You seem cold, Excellency," said the young man deferentially, for he had observed that Gonzaga shivered. "A chill morning, Aventano," returned the gallant, with a grin. "True; but the sun is breaking through yonder. It will be warmer soon."
"Why, yes," answered the other abstractedly, and still he remained by the sentinel, his hand, under the gay mantle of blue velvet, nervously fingering the hilt of a dagger that he dared not draw. It came to him that moments were passing, and that the thing must be done. Yet Aventano was a sinewy youth, and if the sudden stab he meditated failed him, he would be at the fellow's mercy.
"If you would have us remain in Roccaleone, let be. Aventano, tell me." "To Messer Romeo Gonzaga," answered the youth, in a voice of wonder. So evil a light leapt to Cappoccio's eye that Francesco carried his free hand to the sword which he had lowered. But Cappoccio only looked up at Gonzaga, and grinned malevolently.
At the thought he shivered again, and his face turned grey. He moved away a step, and then inspiration brought him a cruel ruse. He uttered a cry. "What is that?" he exclaimed, his eyes on the ground. In an instant Aventano was beside him, for his voice had sounded alarmed a tone, in his present condition, not difficult to simulate. "What, Excellency?" "Down there," cried Gonzaga excitedly.
And so, by a strangely avenging justice, the magnificent Gonzaga sank dead on the very spot on which he had so cravenly and dastardly poniarded Aventano. "Throw me that carrion into the moat," growled Gian Maria, still quivering with rage that had prompted his ferocious act. He was obeyed, and thus murdered and murderer were united in a common grave.
As he halted helmet on head, but beaver open a body came hurtling over the battlements and splashed into the foaming waters below. It was the corpse of Aventano, which Gian Maria had peremptorily bidden them to remove from his sight. "I desire to speak with Monna Valentina della Rovere," cried the furious Duke. "You may speak with me, Gian Maria," answered Francesco's voice, clear and metallic.
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