The court of the Podestà of Casale was commonly well attended, and often some of the attendance would be distinguished. The Princess Valeria, for instance, would sometimes sit with the ladies in the little minstrels' gallery of what had once been the banqueting-hall of the Communal Palace, and by her presence attest her interest in all that concerned the welfare of the people of Montferrat. Occasionally, too, as became a prince who desired to be regarded as a father of his people, the Marquis Theodore would come to observe for himself how justice was administered in his name, or in the name of the boy whose deputy he was.
On the morning after that affray at Messer Barbaresco's house, both the Regent and his niece were to be seen in that hall of justice, the latter aloft in the gallery, the former in a chair placed on the dais alongside of the Podestà's seat of state. The Regent's countenance was grave, his brow thoughtful. This was proper to the occasion, but hardly due to the causes supposed by the spectators. Disclosures now inevitable might win him an increase of the public sympathy he enjoyed. But because premature they temporarily wrecked his real aims, wrecked in any case by the death of his agent Spigno.
There were other notabilities present. Messer Aliprandi—who had expressly postponed his departure for Milan—was seated beside the Regent. Behind them against the grey stone wall lounged a glittering group of courtiers, in which Castruccio da Fenestrella was conspicuous.
In the body of the court seethed a crowd composed of citizens of almost every degree, rigidly kept clear of the wide space before the dais by a dozen men-at-arms forming a square with partisans held horizontally.
On the left of the Podestà, who was clothed in a scarlet robe and wore a flat round scarlet cap that was edged with miniver, sat his two assessors in black, and below these two scriveners. The Podestà himself, Angelo de' Ferraris, a handsome, bearded man of fifty, was a Genoese, to comply with the universal rule throughout Italy that the high office of justiciary should ever be held by one who was a foreigner to the State, so as to ensure the disinterestedness and purity of the justice he dispensed.
Some minor cases had briefly been heard and judged, and the court now awaited the introduction of that prisoner who was responsible for this concourse above the average in numbers and quality.
He came in at last, between guards, tall, comely, with thick glossy black hair that fell to the nape of his neck, his brave red suit considerably disordered and the worse for wear. He was pale from lack of sleep, for he had spent what was left of the night in the town gaol among the vermin-infested scourings of Casale, where he had deemed it prudent to maintain himself awake. Perhaps because of this, too, he suffered a moment's loss of his admirable self-command when upon first entering there he found himself scanned by eyes so numerous and so varied. For an instant he paused, disconcerted, experiencing something of that shyness which is a mixture of mistrust and resentment, peculiar to wild creatures. But the emotion was transient. Before it could be remarked, he had recovered his normal poise, and advanced to the place assigned him on the broad stone flags, bowed to the Regent and the Podestà, then waited, his head high, his glance steady.
On the hush that fell came the Podestà's voice, sternly calm.
'Your name?'
'Bellarion Cane.' Since that was the name he had given himself when he had sought the Regent, the lie must be maintained. It was dangerous, of course. But dangers hemmed him in on every side.
'Your father's name?'
'Facino Cane is my adoptive father's name. The name of my carnal parents I do not know.'
Desired to explain himself, he did so, and his explanation was a model of brevity and lucidity. It bore witness to a calm which argued to his listeners an easy conscience. But the Podestà was to deal with certain facts rather than uncertain personal impressions.
'You came hither a week ago in the company of one Lorenzaccio da Trino, a bandit with a price on his head. To this one of my officers who is present bears witness. Do you deny it?'
'I do not. It is possible for an honest man to travel in the company of a rogue.'
'You were with him at a house in the district of Casale where a theft was committed and the owner of which was subsequently murdered here in the hostelry of the Stag by this same Lorenzaccio whilst in your company. The murdered man recognised you before he died. Do you confess to this?'
'Confession implies sin and the seeking of forgiveness. I admit the facts freely. They nowise contradict my previous statement. But that is not a confession.'
'Yet if you were innocent of evil why did you run away from my officer? Why did you not remain, and state then what you have stated now?'
'Because the appearances were against me. I acted upon impulse, and foolishly as men act when they do not pause first to reflect.'
'You found shelter in the house of the Lord Annibale Barbaresco. No doubt you told him your story, represented yourself as an innocent man betrayed by appearances, and so moved his compassion.'
The Podestà paused. Bellarion did not answer. He let the statement pass. He knew the source of it. Last night when the officer had roused the house and announced to Barbaresco his prisoner's supposed association with Lorenzaccio, Barbaresco had fastened upon it to explain the events.
'Last night you attempted to rob him, and being caught in the act by Count Spigno, you slew the Count and afterwards wounded the Lord Barbaresco himself. You were in the act of escaping from the house by one of its windows when the watch supervened and caught you. Do you admit all this?'
'I do not. Nor will the circumstances. I am a robber, it is said. I spend a week in Messer Barbaresco's house. On any night of that week I was alone with him, save only for his decrepit old servant. Yet it is pretended that I chose as the occasion for robbing him a night on which seven able-bodied friends are with him. Your potency must see that the facts are mocked by likelihood.'
His potency saw this, as did all present. They saw more. This young man's speech and manner were those of the scholar he proclaimed himself rather than of the robber he was represented.
The justiciary leaned forward, combing his short pointed beard.
'What, then, do you say took place? Let us hear you.'
'Is it not within the forms of law that we should first hear my accuser—this Messer Barbaresco?' Bellarion's bold dark eyes raked the court, seeking the stout person of his late host.
The Podestà smiled a little, and his smile was not quite nice.
'Ah, you know the law? Trust a rogue to know the law.'
'Which is to make a rogue of every lawyer in the land,' said Bellarion, and was rewarded by a titter from the crowd, pleased with a sarcasm that contained more truth than he suspected. 'I know the law as I know divinity and rhetoric and other things. Because I have studied it.'
'Maybe,' said the Podestà grimly. 'But not as closely as you are to study it now.' Messer de' Ferraris, too, could deal in sarcasm.
An officer with excitement spread upon his face came bustling into the court. But paused upon perceiving that the justiciary was speaking.
'Your accuser,' said Messer de' Ferraris, 'you have heard already, or at least his accusation, which I have pronounced to you. That accusation you are now required to answer.'
'Required?' said Bellarion, and all marvelled at the calm of this man who knew no fear of persons. 'By what am I so required? Not by the law, which prescribes that an accused shall hear his accuser in person and be given leave to question him upon his accusations. Your excellency should not be impatient that I stand upon the rights of an accused. Let Messer Barbaresco come forth, and out of his own mouth he shall destroy his falsehood.'
His manner might impress the general, but it did not conciliate his judge.
'Why, rogue, do you command here?'
'The law does,' said Bellarion, 'and I voice the law.'
'You voice the law!' The Podestà smiled upon him. 'Well, well! I will be patient as you bid me in your impudence. Messer Barbaresco shall be heard.' There was an infinite threat in his tone. He leaned back, and looked round the court. 'Let Messer Barbaresco stand forth.'
There was a rustle and mutter of expectation through the court; for this stiff-necked young cockerel promised to give good entertainment. Then the excited officer who had lately entered thrust forward into the open space.
'Excellency, Messer Barbaresco is gone. He left Casale at sunrise, as soon as the gates were opened, and with him went the six whose names were on Messer Bernabó's list. The captain of the Lombard Gate is here to speak to it.'
Bellarion laughed, and was sternly bidden to remember where he stood and to observe the decencies.
The captain of the Lombard Gate stood forth to confirm the other's tale. A party of eight had ridden out of the town soon after sunrise, taking the road to Lombardy. One who rode with his arm in a sling he had certainly recognised for my Lord Barbaresco, and he had recognised three others whom he named and a fourth whom he knew for Barbaresco's servant.
The Regent stroked his chin and turned to the Podestà, who was clearly taken aback.
'Why was this permitted?' he asked sternly.
The Podestà was ill-at-ease. 'I had no news of this man's arrest until long after sunrise. But in any case it is not usual to detain accusers.'
'To detain them, no. But to take certain precautions where the features are so peculiar.'
'Their peculiarity, highness, with submission, becomes apparent only in this flight.'
The Regent sank back in his chair, and his pale blue eyes were veiled behind lowered lids. 'Well, well! I interrupt the course of justice. The prisoner waits.'
A little bewildered, not only by the turn of events, but by the Regent's attitude, the Podestà addressed Bellarion with a little less judicial sternness.
'You have heard, sir, that your accuser is not here to speak in person.'
Again Bellarion laughed. 'I have heard that he has spoken. His flight is an eloquent testimony to the falsehood of his charge.'
'Sir, sir,' the Podestà admonished him. 'You are to satisfy this court. You are to afford us your own version of what took place that the ends of justice may be served.'
Now here was a change of tone, thought Bellarion, and he was no longer addressed contemptuously as 'rogue.' He took full advantage of it.
'I am to testify? Why, so I will.' He looked at the Regent, and found the Regent's eyes upon him, stern and commanding in a face that was set. He read its message.
'But there is little to which I can speak, for I do not know the cause of the quarrel that broke out between Count Spigno and Messer Barbaresco. I was not present at the beginnings. I was drawn to it by the uproar, and when I arrived, Count Spigno was already dead. At sight of me, perhaps because I was a witness and might inform against them, I was set upon by Messer Barbaresco and his friends. I wounded Barbaresco, and so got away, locking myself in a room. I was escaping thence by a window when the watch came up. That is all I can say.'
It was a tale, he thought, that must convey to the Regent the full explanation. But whatever it may have done in that quarter, it did not satisfy the Podestà.
'I could credit this more easily,' said the latter, 'but for the circumstance that Count Spigno and yourself were fully dressed, whilst Messer Barbaresco and the others were in their shirts. That in itself suggests who were the aggressors, who the attacked.'
'It might but for the flight of Messer Barbaresco and the others. Innocent men do not run away.'
'Out of your own mouth you have pronounced it,' thundered the Podestà. 'You profess innocence of association with Lorenzaccio. Yet you ran away on that occasion.'
'Oh, but the difference ... The appearances against a single man unknown in these parts ...'
'Can you explain how you and the dead count came to be dressed and the others not?' It was more than a question. It was a challenge.
Bellarion looked at the Regent. But the Regent made no sign. He continued to eye Bellarion coldly and sternly. Ready enough to tell the full lie he had prepared, yet he had the wit to perceive that the Regent, whilst not suspecting its untruth, might find the disclosure inconvenient, in which case he would certainly be lost. As a spy, he reasoned, he could only be of value to the Regent as long as this fact remained undiscovered. So he took his resolve.
'Why Count Spigno was dressed, I cannot say. My own condition was the result of accident. I had been to court last night. I returned late, and I was tired. I fell asleep in a chair, and slept until the uproar aroused me.'
Bellarion fancied that the Regent's glance approved him. But the Podestà slowly shook his head.
'A convenient tale,' he sneered, 'but lame. Can you do no better?'
'Can any man do better than the truth?' demanded Bellarion firmly, and in the circumstances impudently. 'You ask me to explain things that are outside my knowledge.'
'We shall see.' The tone was a threat. 'The hoist has often been known to stimulate a man's memory and to make it accurate.'
'The hoist?' Bellarion's spirit trembled, for all that his mien preserved its boldness. He looked again at the Regent, this time for succour. The Regent was whispering to Messer Aliprandi, and almost at once the Orator of Milan leaned forward to address the Podestà.
'My I speak a word in your court, my lord?'
The Podestà turned to him in some surprise. It was not often that an ambassador intervened in the trial of a rogue accused of theft and murder.
'At your good pleasure, my lord.'
'With submission, then, may I beg that, considering the identity claimed by this prisoner and the relationship urged with his magnificence the Count of Biandrate, the proceedings against him be suspended until this identity shall have been tested by ordinary means?'
The ambassador paused. The Podestà, supreme autocrat of justice, had thrown up his head, resentful of such very definite interference. But before he could answer, the Regent was adding the weight of his support to the Orator's request.
'However unusual this may be, Messer de' Ferraris,' he said, in his quiet, cultured voice, 'you will realise with me that if the prisoner's identity prove to be as he says, and if his present position should be the result of a chain of unfortunate circumstances, we should by proceeding to extremes merely provoke against Montferrat the resentment of our exalted friend the Count of Biandrate.'
Thus was it demonstrated to Bellarion how much may hang upon a man's wise choice of a parent.
The Podestà bowed his head. There was a moment's silence before he spoke.
'By what means is it proposed that the accused's pretended identity shall be tested?'
It was Bellarion who spoke. 'I had a letter from the Abbot of the Grazie of Cigliano, which this Lorenzaccio stole from me, but which the officer ...'
'We have that letter,' the Podestà interrupted, his voice harsh. 'It says nothing of your paternity, and for the rest it can prove nothing until you prove how it was acquired!'
'He claims,' Aliprandi interposed again, 'to come from the Convent of the Grazie of Cigliano, where Messer Facino Cane placed him some years ago. It should not be difficult, nor greatly delay the satisfaction of justice, to seek at the convent confirmation of his tale. If it is confirmed, let one of the fathers who knows him attend here to say whether this is the same man.'
The Podestà combed his beard in silence. 'And if so?' he inquired at last.
'Why, then, sir, your mind will be delivered at least of the prejudice created by this young man's association with a bandit. And you will be in better case to judge his share in last night's events.'
There, to the general disappointment, ended for the moment the odd affair of Bellarion Cane, which in the disclosures it foreshadowed had promised such unusual entertainment.
The Regent remained in court after Bellarion's removal, lest it be supposed that his interest in the administration of justice had been confined to that case alone. But Messer Aliprandi withdrew, as did most of those others who came from the palace, and amongst them, pale and troubled, went the Princess Valeria. To Dionara she vented something of her dismay and anger.
'A thief, a spy, a murderer,' she said. 'And I trusted him that he might ruin all my hopes. I have the wages of a fool.'
'But if he were what he claims to be?' Monna Dionara asked her.
'Would that make him any less what he is? He was sent to spy on me, that he might discover what was plotting. My heart told me so. Yet to the end I heeded rather his own false tongue.'
'But if he were a spy, why should he have urged you to break off relations with these plotters?'
'So that he might draw from me a fuller revelation of my intentions. It was he who murdered Spigno; Spigno the shrewdest, the most loyal and trustworthy of them all. Spigno upon whom I depended to curb their recklessness and yet to give them audacity in season. And this vile creature of my uncle's has murdered him.' Her eyes were heavy with unshed tears.
'But if so, why was he arrested?'
'An accident. That was not in the reckoning. I went to see how they would deal with that. And I saw.'
Madonna Dionara's vision, however, was less clear, or else clearer.
'Yet I do not understand why he should murder the Count.'
'Do you not?' The Princess laughed a little, quite mirthlessly. 'It is not difficult to reconstruct the happening. Spigno was dressed, and so was he. Spigno suspected him, and followed him last night to watch him. The scoundrel's bold appearance at court was his one mistake, his inexplicable imprudence. Spigno taxed him with it on his return, pressed him, perhaps, with questions that unmasked him, and so to save his own skin this Bellarion slew the Count. Why else are the others all fled? Because they know themselves detected. Is it not all crystal clear?'
The Lady Dionara shook her head. 'If it was your brother's ruin the Marquis Theodore plotted, this surely frustrates his own ends. If it were as you say, Messer Bellarion would have spoken out boldly in court, and told his tale. Why, being what you suppose him, should he keep silent, when by speaking he could best serve the Regent's purposes?'
'I do not know,' the Princess confessed, 'nor does any ever know the Regent's purposes. He works quietly, craftily, slowly, and he will never strike until he is sure that the blow must be final. This rogue's conduct was an obedience to the Regent's commands. Did you not see the looks that passed between them? Did you not see that when Messer Aliprandi intervened it was after a whisper from my uncle?'
'But if this man were not what he says he is, what can the intervention avail in the end?'
Madonna Valeria was wholly scornful now. 'He may be what he claims and yet at the same time what I know him to be. Why not? Where is the contradiction? Yet I dare to prophesy. This Messer Bellarion will not again be brought to trial. The means will be afforded him of breaking prison.'