“If that were so, and I confess that I do not share your potency’s apprehensions, it would still be the course I should presume to advise. In Theodore you have a neighbour whom ambition makes dangerous. In Gian Giacomo you have a mild and gentle youth, whose thoughts, since his conversion from debauchery, turn rather to religion than to deeds of arms. Place him upon the throne of his fathers, and you have in such a man not only a friendly neighbour but a grateful servant.”
“Ha! You believe in gratitude, Bellarion?”
“I must, since I practise it.”
There followed that night a council of the captains, and since they were still nominally regarded as in the service of Facino’s widow, the Duchess herself attended it, and since the fortunes of the legitimate ruler of Montferrat was one of the issues, the Marquis Gian Giacomo and his sister were also invited to be present.
The Duke, at the head of the long table, with the Duchess on his right and Bellarion on his left, made known the intention to declare war immediately upon the Regent of Montferrat upon two grounds: his occupation of the Milanese stronghold and lands of Vercelli, and his usurpation of the regency beyond the Marquis Gian Giacomo’s attainment of full age. Of his captains now he desired an account of the means at their disposal, and afterwards a decision of those to be employed in the undertaking.
Carmagnola came prepared with a computation of the probable forces which Theodore could levy; and they were considerable; not less than five thousand men. The necessary force to deal with him was next debated, having regard also to certain other enterprises to which Milan was elsewhere committed. At length this was fixed by Bellarion. It was to consist of the Germans under Koenigshofen, Stoffel’s Swiss, Giasone Trotta’s Italian mercenaries, and Marsilio’s condotta, amounting in all to some seven thousand men. That would leave free for other eventualities the condottas of Valperga and of Carmagnola with whom were Ercole Belluno and Ugolino da Tenda.
Against this, and on the plea that the Duke might require the services of the Prince of Valsassina at home, Carmagnola begged that the enterprise against Montferrat should be confided to his leadership, his own condotta taking the place of Bellarion’s, but all else remaining as Bellarion disposed.
The Duke, showing in his pale face no sign of his surprise at this request, looked from Carmagnola to Bellarion, appearing to ponder, what time the Princess Valeria held her breath.
At length the Duke spoke. “Have you anything to say to that, Valsassina?”
“Nothing if your highness is content. You will remember that Theodore of Montferrat is one of the most skilful captains of the day, and if this business is not to drag on unduly, indeed if it is to be brought to a successful issue, you would do well to send against him of your best.”
A sly smile broke upon that sinisterly placid countenance.
“By which you mean yourself.”
“For my part,” said Koenigshofen, “I do not willingly march under another.”
“And for mine,” said Stoffel, “whilst Bellarion lives I do not march under another at all.”
The Duke looked at Carmagnola. “You hear, sir?”
Carmagnola flushed uncomfortably. “I had set my heart upon the enterprise, Lord Duke.”
The Princess Valeria interposed. “By your leave, highness; does my vote count for anything in this matter?”
“Assuredly, madonna. Your own and your brother’s.”
“Then, Lord Duke, my vote, indeed my prayer, is that my Lord of Carmagnola be given the command.”
The Duchess raised her long eyes to look at her in wonder.
Bellarion sat inscrutable.
The request wounded without surprising him. He knew her unconquerable mistrust of him. He had hoped in the end which was now approaching to prove to her its cruel injustice. But if occasion for that were denied him, it would be no great matter. What signified was that her own aims should be accomplished, and, after all, they were not beyond the strength and skill of Carmagnola, who had his talents as a leader when all was said.
The Duke’s lacklustre eyes were steadily upon Valeria. He spoke after a pause.
“Almost you imply a doubt of the Prince of Valsassina’s capacity.”
“Not of his capacity. Oh, not of that!”
“Of what, then?”
The question troubled her. She looked at her brother, and her brother answered for her.
“My sister remembers that the Prince of Valsassina was once the Marquis Theodore’s friend.”
“Was he so? When was that?” The Duke looked at Bellarion, but it was Gian Giacomo who answered the question.
“When, in alliance with him, he placed him in possession of Vercelli and Genoa.”
“The alliance was the Lord Facino’s, not Valsassina’s. Bellarion served under him. But so also did Carmagnola. Where is the difference between them?”
“My Lord of Carmagnola acted then with a view to my brother’s ultimate service,” the Princess answered. “If he was a party to the Marquis Theodore’s occupation of Vercelli, it was only so that in that act the Marquis might provide a cause for the action that is now proposed against him by the Duke of Milan.”
Bellarion laughed softly at the light he suddenly perceived.
“Do you mock that statement, sir?” Carmagnola challenged him. “Do you dare to say what was in my mind at the time?”
“I have honoured you for directness, Carmagnola. But it seems you can be subtle too.”
“Subtle!” Carmagnola flushed indignantly. “In what have I been subtle?”
“In the spirit in which you favoured Theodore’s occupation of Vercelli,” said Bellarion, and so left him gaping foolishly. “What else did you think I had in mind?” He smiled almost ingenuously into the other’s face.
The Duke rapped the table. “Sirs, sirs! We wander. And there is this matter to resolve.”
Bellarion answered him.
“Here, then, is a solution your highness may be disposed to adopt. Instead of Valperga and his troops, I take with me Carmagnola and
