“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
