“Will you leave, in tranquil possession, the brigands who have encroached upon the glorious patrimony built up by your illustrious father? Will you dishonour his memory and be false to your name, Lord Duke?”
Thus, and similarly, Bellarion, with a heat that was purely histrionic. He cared no more for the integrity of Gian Galeazzo’s patrimony than he cared for that of the Kingdom of England. What he cared for was that the order to dispossess those tyrants would sound the knell of Theodore of Montferrat. Thus, at last, should he be enabled to complete the service, to which five years ago he had dedicated himself, and to which unfalteringly, if obscurely and tortuously, he had held. Very patiently had he waited for this hour, when, yielding at last to his bold importunities, the Duke summoned a council of the officers of State and the chief condottieri to determine the order in which action should be taken.
At once Bellarion urged that a beginning should be made by recovering Vercelli, than which few strongholds were of more importance to the safety of the duchy.
It provoked a protest from Beccarla, who was the Duke’s Minister of State.
“An odd proposal this from you, Lord Bellarion, remembering that it was by your own action in concert with the Count of Biandrate that the Marquis Theodore was placed in possession of Vercelli.”
Bellarion crushed him with his logic. “Not odd, sir, natural. Then I was on the other side. And if, being on the other side, I conceived it important that Theodore should hold Vercelli, now that I am opposed to him I conceive it equally important that he should be driven from it.”
There was a pause. Filippo Maria, somnolent in his great chair, looked round the group. “What is the military view?” he asked. He had noticed that not one of the captains had voiced an opinion. He was answered now by the burly Koenigshofen.
“I have no views that are not Bellarion’s. I have followed him long enough to know that he’s a safe man to follow.”
Giasone Trotta, uninvited, expressed the same sentiment. Filippo Maria turned to Carmagnola, who sat silent and thoughtful.
“And you, sir?” he asked.
Carmagnola reared his blond head, and Bellarion braced himself for battle. But to his amazement, for once—for the first time in their long association—Carmagnola was on his side.
“I am of Bellarion’s mind, magnificent. We who were with my Lord Facino when he made alliance with Theodore of Montferrat know Theodore for a crafty, daring man of boundless ambition. His occupation of Vercelli is a menace to the peace of the duchy.”
After that the other captains, Valperga and Marsilio, who had been wavering, threw in their votes, so that the military opinion was solidly unanimous.
Filippo Maria balanced the matter for a moment.
“You are not forgetting, sirs, that for Theodore’s good behaviour I have in my hands a precious hostage, in the person of his nephew, the Marquis Gian Giacomo, in whose name Theodore rules. You laugh, Bellarion!”
“That hostage was procured to ensure, not the good faith of Theodore, but the safety of the real Prince of Montferrat. Carmagnola has told your magnificence that Theodore is crafty, daring, and ambitious. It is a part of his ambition to make himself absolute sovereign where at present he is no more than Regent. Let your magnificence judge if the thought of harm to the hostage you hold would be a deterrent to him.”
A while still they debated. Then Filippo Maria announced that he would take thought and make known his decision when it was reached. On that he dismissed them.
As they went from the council chamber the captains witnessed the phenomenon of a yet closer unity between Bellarion and Carmagnola. The new Prince of Valsassina linked arms with Francesco Busone, and drew him away.
“You will do a service in this matter, Ser Francesco, if you send word to Lady Valeria and her brother urging them to come at once to Milan and petition the Duke to place Gian Giacomo upon his throne. He is of full age, and only his absence from Montferrat enables Theodore to continue in the Regency.”
Carmagnola looked at him suspiciously. “Why do you not send that message, yourself?”
Bellarion shrugged and spread his hands a little. “I have not the confidence of the Princess. A message from me might be mistrusted.”
Carmagnola’s fine blue eyes pondered him still with that suspicious glance. “What game do you play?” he asked.
“I see that you mistrust me, too.”
“I ever have done.”
“It’s a compliment,” said Bellarion.
“If it is, I don’t perceive it.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t pay it. You are direct, Carmagnola; and for that I honour you. I am not direct, and yet you may come to honour me for that too when you understand it, if you ever do. You ask what game I play. A game which began long ago, in which this is the last move. The alliance I brought about between Facino and Theodore was a move in this game; the securing of the person of Gian Giacomo of Montferrat as a hostage was another; to make it possible for Theodore to occupy Vercelli and make himself Lord of Genoa, yet another. My only aim was to unbridle his greed so that he should become a menace to the duchy, against such a day as this, when on the Duke’s side it is my duty to advise his definite destruction.”
Carmagnola’s eyes were wide, amazement overspread his florid handsome face.
“By the bones of Saint Ambrose, you play mighty deep!”
Bellarion smiled. “I am frank with you. I explain myself. It is tedious but necessary so as to conquer your mistrust and procure your cooperation.”
“To make me a pawn in this game of yours?”
“That is to describe yourself unflatteringly. Francesco Busone of Carmagnola is
