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He sat at the feet of Madonna Gemma, who wore a grass-green gown embroidered with unicorns, emblems of purity. The crone was there also, pretending to doze in the shadows; and so was Foresto the horse-boy, whose dark, still face seemed now and again to mirror Raffaele's look of exultation a look that came only when Madonna Gemma gazed away from him.
One-eyed Baldo also groaned at these goings-on, and swallowed many angry speeches. But Foresto the horse-boy began to hum at his work. This Foresto had attached himself to Lapo's force in the Ferrarese campaign. His habits were solitary. Often when his work was done he wandered into the woods to return with a capful of berries or a squirrel that he had snared.
One morning however, Foresto had time to whisper: "The Arabian." What did that mean? Was the Arab magician, recluse in his wretched hut below the castle, prepared to serve her? Was it through him and Foresto that she might hope to escape or at least to manage some revenge? Thereafter she often watched the renegade's window, from which, no matter how late the hour, shone a glimmering of lamplight.
24 Persuasio ad non credentes terrarum diuersitates per orbem terrae. 25 De Armenia, et Persia. 26 De Ethiopia et diamantibus, ac de infima et media India. 27 De foresto piperis. 28 De Ecclesia beati Thomae Apostoli. 29 De quibusdam meridionalibus insulis, et farina et melle. 30 De Regno Cynocephalorum, et alijs Insulis. 31 De multis alijs insulis Meridionalibus. 32 De bona regione Mangi.
One morning a horseman in green and yellow scallops appeared before the castle. It was Count Nicolotto Muti, elder brother of the troubadour Raffaele. Lapo, having arranged his features, came down to meet the count. They kissed, and entered the keep with their arms round each other's shoulders. Foresto brought in the guest-cup.
But on gaining the keep he found with him only some thirty of his men; the rest had been caught in their beds. Old Baldo gave him a coat of mail. Young Foresto brought him his sword and shield. Climbing the keep-wall, Cercamorte squinted down into the murky courtyard. That whole place now swarmed with his foes. Arrows began to fly.
Nicolotto Muti made a deprecatory gesture, then rose with a rustle of his green and yellow scallops, from which was shaken a fragrance of attar. "My good friend, let us hope so." It was Foresto who, in the courtyard held Muti's stirrup, and secretly pressed into the visitor's hand a pellet of parchment. For Foresto could write excellent Latin.
De foresto Piperis, et fonte iuuentutis. Regio seu insula dicta Lombe, spatiosa quidem est, continens forestum dictum alias Tombar, longum per dietas 18. In orbe vniuerso non noscimus crescere piper, praeterquam in hoc foresto.
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