Messer Beppo interrupted him with a laugh.
“The necessity is no more present now than it has ever been. Facino Cane will lie as much at your mercy tomorrow night as he has lain on any night in all these weeks of your inaction.”
“What do you say?” breathed Vignate. “At our mercy?” The three of them stared at him.
“At your mercy. A bold stroke and it is done. The line drawn out on a periphery some eighteen miles in length is very tenuous. There are strong posts at Marengo, Aulara, Casalbagliano, and San Michele.”
“Yes, yes. This we know.”
“Marengo and San Michele have been weakened since yesterday, to strengthen the line from Aulara to Casalbagliano in view of the discovery that Alessandria has been fed from there. Aulara and Casalbagliano are the posts farthest from Pavone, which is the strongest post of all and Facino’s quarters.”
Vignate’s eyes began to kindle. He was sufficiently a soldier, after all, to perceive whither Messer Beppo was going. “Yes, yes,” he muttered.
“Under cover of night a strong force could creep out by the northern gate, so as to be across the Tamaro at the outset, and going round by the river fall upon Pavone almost before an alarm could be raised. Before supports could be brought up you would have broken the force that is stationed there. The capture of Facino and his chief captains, who are with him, would be as certain as that the sun is rising now. After that, your besiegers would be a body without a head.”
Followed a silence. Vignate licked his thick lips as he sat huddled there considering.
“By God!” he said, and again, after further thought, “By God!” He looked at his tall captain. The captain tightened his lips and nodded.
“It is well conceived,” he said.
“Well conceived!” cried Beppo on that note of ready laughter. “No better conception is possible in your present pass. You snatch victory from defeat.”
His confidence inspired them visibly. Then Vignate asked a question:
“What is Facino’s force at Pavone? Is it known?”
“Some four or five hundred men. No more. With half that number you could overpower them if you took them by surprise.”
“I do not run unnecessary risks. I’ll take six hundred.”
“Your lordship has decided, then?” said the tall captain.
“What else, Rocco?”
Rocco fingered his bearded chin. “It should succeed. I’d be easier if I were sure the enveloping movement could be made without giving the alarm.”
Unbidden the audacious Messer Beppo broke into their counsel.
“Aye, that’s the difficulty. But it can be overcome. That is where I can serve you; I and my three hundred lances. I move them round during the day wide of the lines and bring up behind Pavone, at Pietramarazzi. At the concerted hour I push them forward, right up against Facino’s rear, and at the moment that you attack in front I charge from behind, and the envelopment is made.”
“But how to know each other in the dark?” said Rocco. “Your force and ours might come to grips, each supposing the other to be Facino’s.”
“My men shall wear their shirts over their armour if yours will do the same.”
“Lord of Heaven!” said Vignate. “You have it all thought out.”
“That is my way. That is how I succeed.”
Vignate heaved himself up. On his broad face it was to be read that he had made up his mind.
“Let it be tonight, then. There is no gain in delay, nor can our stomachs brook it. You are to be depended upon, Captain Farfalla?”
“If we come to terms,” said Beppo easily. “I’m not in the business for the love of adventure.”
Vignate’s countenance sobered from its elation. His eyes narrowed. He became the man of affairs. “And your terms?” quoth he.
“A year’s employment for myself and my condotta at a monthly stipend of fifteen thousand gold florins.”
“God of Heaven!” Vignate ejaculated. “Is that all?” And he laughed scornfully.
“It is for your lordship to refuse.”
“It is for you to be reasonable. Fifteen thou … Besides, I don’t want your condotta for a year.”
“But I prefer the security of a year’s employment. It is security for you, too, of a sort. You’ll be well served.”
“Ten thousand florins for your assistance in this job,” said Vignate firmly.
“I’ll be wishing you good morning,” said Messer Beppo as firmly. “I know my value.”
“You take advantage of my urgent needs,” Vignate complained.
“And you forget what you already owe me for having risked my neck in coming here.”
After that they haggled for a full half-hour, and if guarantees of Messer Beppo’s good faith had been lacking, they had it in the tenacity with which he clung to his demands.
At long length the Lord of Lodi yielded, but with an ill grace and with certain mental reservations notwithstanding the bond drawn up by his monkish secretary. With that parchment in his pocket, Messer Beppo went gaily to breakfast with the Lord Vignate, and thereafter took his leave, and slipped out of the city to carry to the Cardinal at Desana the news of the decision and to prepare for his own part in it.
It was a dazzling morning, all sign of the storm having been swept from the sky, and the air being left the cleaner for its passage.
Messer Beppo smiled as he walked, presumably because on such a morning it was good to live. He was still smiling when towards noon of that same day he strode unannounced into Facino’s quarters at Pavone.
Facino was at dinner with his three captains, and the Countess faced her lord at the foot of the board. He looked up as the newcomer strode to the empty place at the table.
“You’re late, Bellarion. We have been awaiting you and your report. Was there any attempt last night to put a victualling party across the lines?”
“There was,”
