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Updated: June 17, 2025
What did the voice say, Meg's voice, but how changed? That she was not to be afraid? That the thudding was the sound of oars not of knife thrusts? This would be Ramiro's boat coming to seize her. Of him and Adrian she could bear no more; she would throw herself into the water and trust to God. One, two, three then utter darkness.
Cesare left Cesena very early on the morning of December 26 the morning of Ramiro's execution and by the 29th he was at Fano, where he received the envoys who came from Ancona with protestations of loyalty, as well as a messenger from Vitellozzo Vitelli, who brought him news of the surrender of Sinigaglia.
"Doubtless," said Foy, angrily, "upon such honour as gentlemen learn in the galleys, Senor Ramiro I beg your pardon, Count Juan de Montalvo." Ramiro's face grew crimson to the hair. "Sir," he said, "were I a different sort of man, for those words you should die in a fashion from which even the boldest might shrink. But you are young and inexperienced, so I will overlook them.
Ramiro's plan would suffer no frustration through my discovery; when to-morrow the sacrilege was discovered the cold body of Lazzaro Biancomonte lying beside the desecrated bier would be but an item in the work of profanation they would find an item that nowise would modify the conclusion to which I anticipated they would come.
Every man there, including Ramiro's table companions, was white to the lips; for accustomed though they might be to horrors in that brigand's nest, this was a horror that surpassed anything they had ever witnessed. The silence irked Messer Ramiro. He looked round from under his shaggy brows, and he spluttered out an oath.
The reason for this that at once arose in my mind was that within the messenger's hat there was a second and more secret communication for the Governor. This secrecy and Ramiro's display of anger at seeing a hint of it betrayed by Lampugnani struck me, not unnaturally, as suspicious. What were these hidden communications that passed between Vitellozzo Vitelli and the Governor of Cesena?
First of all, with the most convincing sincerity, he explained that when he had made use of him, Adrian, he had no idea that he was his son. Of course this was a statement that will not bear a moment's examination, but Ramiro's object was to gain time, and Adrian let it pass.
For just an instant I allowed myself to be tortured by the hope that a miracle had happened, and here was Cesare Borgia come a good eight hours before it was possible for Mariani to have fetched him from Faenza. The same doubt may have crossed Ramiro's mind, for he changed colour and sprang to the door to bawl an order forbidding his men to lower the bridge. But he was too late.
But Ramiro's attention had been diverted from me by the noise. Half-turning in his chair, he called to one of the men-at-arms to ascertain who came. Before the fellow could do his bidding, the door was thrust open and Lucagnolo appeared on the threshold, jaded and worn with hard riding. A certain excitement arose in me at sight of him, despite my confidence that he must be returning empty-handed.
"A courier from the Lord Vitellozzo Vitelli, Tyrant of Citta di Castello," he announced, unwittingly breaking in upon Ramiro's words, "with urgent messages for the high and Mighty Governor of Cesena." On the instant Ramiro rose, the expression of his face changing from cynical amusement to sober concern, the task upon which he was engaged forgotten. "Admit him instantly," he commanded.
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