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Updated: June 28, 2025
His hand it was that had held them together, his judgment of which they had had unequivocal signs that had given them courage. He was a leader who had shown himself capable of leading, and out of confidence for whom they would have undertaken anything that he bade them. Whom had they now? Fortemani was but one of themselves, placed in command over them by an event purely adventitious.
She shuddered, and with strange inconsistence: "No," she said, in a choking voice, her lip twisting oddly at the corner. "I do not wish to see his face again." A light gleamed in Gonzaga's eye, and was extinguished on the instant. "Best make certain," he suggested, rising. "I have ordered Fortemani to bring Lanciotto here. He will be waiting now, without. Shall I admit them?"
Let this be a lesson to you, Messer Fortemani. You have gone perilously near hanging, and you have had it proved to you that in moments of peril your men are ready to raise their hands against you. Why is that? Because you have not sought their respect. You have been too much a fellow of theirs in their drinking and their brawling, instead of holding yourself aloof with dignity."
"Nay, there you wrong them," cried Fortemani, with heat. "Give them a leader strong enough to hold them, to encourage and subject them, and they will go anywhere at his bidding." "And there," put in Gonzaga quickly, "you bring us back to the main issue. Such a leader you have shown us that you are not. You have done worse.
"I pray you let be, my good Gonzaga," she answered soothingly, and Gonzaga, ready to faint from spite, obeyed her. "Leave him there, and go," was Paolo's next order to the men, and they departed, leaving the astonished Fortemani standing alone, unbound and sheepish. "Now mark me well, Messer Fortemani," Francesco admonished him.
From the tank, standing breast-deep in that stinking water, his head and face grotesquely masked in a vile green slime of putrid vegetation, Ercole Fortemani bellowed with horrid blasphemy that he would have his aggressor's blood, but stirred never a foot to take it.
Answering that summons to a parley, and with a last word of injunction to Fortemani, who was left in charge of the men at the guns, Francesco rode forward on one of Gian Maria's horses, escorted by Lanciotto and Zaccaria similarly mounted, and each armed with a loaded arquebuse. Under the walls of Roccaleone he drew rein, laughing to himself at this monstrous change of sides.
There is treachery afoot Gonzaga " he gasped, and ended desperately: "Will you come?" Fortemani needed no second bidding. The chance of catching pretty Messer Romeo at a treachery was too sweet a lure. Snorting and puffing for hard drinking had sorely impaired his wind the great captain hurried the fool along, listening as they went to the gasps in which he brought out his story.
Thus they emerged from Roccaleone, and made their way down that rough bridge into the pleasant meadows to the south. Already Fortemani and his dozen men had disappeared at the trot, making for the front of the castle, when Francesco stepped last upon the bridge, and closed the postern after him.
I congratulate you on the watch you keep, Messer Capitano. Your castle is so excellently patrolled that had I been minded for a climb I had scaled your walls and got within your gates without arousing any of your slumbering sentries." Fortemani eyed him with a lowering glance. The prosperity of the past four days had increased the insolence inherent in the man.
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