Facino was moved to anger. But he dissembled it.
“The people perceive in me the possible saviour of your duchy.” He was smiling, but his eyes were hard. “It is well to propitiate those who have the power to serve us.”
“Do you reprove his highness?” wondered della Torre, scowling.
“Do you boast your power?” growled the Duke.
“I rejoice in it since it is to be used in your potency’s service, unlike Buonterzo’s which is being used against you.”
Behind Facino his Countess watched, and inwardly smiled. These fools were stirring her lord, it seemed, where she could not stir him.
Gabriello, however, interposed to clear the air. “And you are very welcome, Lord Count; your coming is most timely.”
The Duke flashed him a sidelong glance, and grunted: “Huh!”
But Gabriello went on, his manner affable and courtly. “And his highness is grateful to you for the despatch you have used in responding to his call.”
After all, as titular governor, Gabriello spoke with the voice of authority, in matters of administration being even superior to the Duke. And Facino, whose aim was far from provocative, was glad enough to pass through the door Gabriello held for him.
“My despatch is natural enough since I have no object but the service of his highness and the duchy.”
Later, however, when Facino attended a council that evening to determine measures a certain asperity was again in his tone.
He came to the business exacerbated by another scene with his Countess, in which again she had upbraided him for not dealing with these men as their ill will deserved by seizing upon the duchy for himself.
Della Torre’s undisguised malice, the Duke’s mean, vindictive, unreasoning jealousy, scarcely held in curb even by his needs, and Gabriello’s hopeless incompetence, almost drove Facino to conclude that Beatrice was in the right and that he was a fool to continue to serve where he might command.
Trouble came when the question arose of the means at their command to resist Buonterzo, and Gabriello announced that the whole force under their hands amounted to the thousand mercenaries of Facino’s own condotta, commanded by his lieutenant, Francesco Busone of Carmagnola, and some five hundred foot made up of Milanese levies.
Facino denounced this force as utterly inadequate, and informed the Council that to supplement it he had sent to Boucicault for a thousand men.
“A thousand men!” Gabriello was aghast, and so were the others. “But a thousand men will cost the treasury …”
Facino interrupted him. “I have offered fifteen gold florins a month for each man and fifty for the officer commanding them. But my messenger is authorised to pay twice that sum if necessary.”
“Fifteen thousand florins, and perhaps thirty thousand! Why, you’re surely mad! That is twice the sum contributed by the Commune. Whence is the remainder to come? His highness’s allowance is but two thousand five hundred florins a month.”
“The Commune must be made to realise that the duchy is in danger of utter shipwreck. If Buonterzo sacks Milan, it will cost them fifty times the hire of these troops. So they must provide the means to defend it. It is your business, my lord, as one of the ducal governors, to make that clear to them.”
“They will take the view that this levy is far beyond the needs of the case.”
“You must persuade them of their error.”
Gabriello became impatient in his turn. “How can I persuade them of what I do not, myself, believe? After all, Buonterzo cannot be in great strength. I doubt if his whole force amounts to more than a thousand men.”
“You doubt!” Facino stormed now, and banged the table in his wrath. “Am I to get myself and my condotta cut to pieces because you allow conjecture to fill the place of knowledge? You set my reputation on the board in your reckless gambling.”
“Your reputation stands high, Lord Count,” Gabriello sought to mollify him.
“But how long will you let it stand so? I shall presently be known for improvidence and carelessness in estimating the enemy forces and in opposing my troops to impossible odds. Once I am given that character, where do you think I shall be able to hire men to follow me? Mercenaries who make a trade of war do not go into battle to get themselves slaughtered, and they do not follow leaders under whom this happens. That, my lord, you should know. I suffered enough last year against this same Buonterzo, when your reckless lack of information sent me with six hundred men to meet his four thousand. Then, as now, you argued that he was in small strength. That is not an error into which a condottiero is suffered to fall twice. Let it happen again, and I shall never be able to raise another condotta.”
Gian Maria laughed softly, secretly nudged by della Torre. Facino span round on his stool to face the Duke, and his face was white with anger, for he read the meaning of that laugh. In his stupid jealousy the loutish prince would actually welcome such a consummation, unable to perceive its inevitable consequence to himself.
“Your highness laughs! You will not laugh when it is accomplished. You will discover that when there is an end to me as a condottiero, there will be an end to your highness as Duke of Milan. Do you think these will save you?” And rising in his passion he swept a hand to indicate Gabriello, della Torre, and Lonate. “Who will follow Gabriello when he takes the field? All the world knows that his mother was a better soldier than he, and that when she died he could not hold Pisa. And how will these two poor pimps who fawn upon you serve you in your need?”
Gian Maria, livid with anger was on his feet, too, by now. “By God! Facino, if you had dared say the half of this before my father’s face, your head would have been on the Broletto Tower.”
“If I had said
