Valperga (16 page)

"He died; and I left this city of my soul. I know not
whether I shall ever again breathe its air; but its memory is a
burning cloud of sunset in the deep azure of the sky: it is that
passage in my life since my father's death, on which my
intellectual eye rests with emotion, pleasurable now, although I
then endured poignant sorrow.

"The passenger that carried the intelligence of my younger
brother's death to my mother, was crossed on the road by one
who came to inform me that the eldest also was no more. He was
killed in an assault on Pistoia. Thus death quickly mowed down the
ranks of our family; and at last I have become a solitary scion of
the stock.

"I returned home by very slow journeys, and in my way was
detained a fortnight at Perugia. When I arrived, I was met by my
mother at our palace in Florence; she burst into tears as she
folded me in her arms, and wept for some time, lamenting with
bitter grief her sad losses. I mingled my tears with hers, and
alas! I soon shed them alone; doubly an orphan through her death, I
mourned over the last of my family. So many losses, following swift
one upon the other, astounded me; and I passed many months, as one
who had wandered from the true path, and had no guide to set her
right. I retreated to my castle, and the solitude frightened me; I
returned to Florence; but the gaieties of that city only told me
more plainly that I was alone, since I sympathized with none there.
But time has healed these wounds, leaving only a tinge of
melancholy in my character which had not belonged to it till
now."

THE winter passed away, and with the summer the toils of the
soldier began. Castruccio left Lucca, and joined the army of
Uguccione against the Florentines. He took leave of his lady; yet
she neither tied the scarf around him, nor bade him go and prosper.
Florence was her native town; and love of their country was a
characteristic of all Florentines. There was in that city an energy
of spirit, which panting to expand itself, sought for new emotions,
or exalted those that were before felt, until each sentiment became
a passion. The Florentines were patriots; there was not one among
them, who would not have sacrificed wealth, life, and happiness, to
the prosperity of his native city. Euthanasia was brought up in the
midst of public discussions and of expressions of public feeling;
the army of the Florentines contained her best friends, the
companions of her youth, all among men whom she had esteemed and
loved; how then could she bid her lover, go, and prosper, when he
went to destroy them? She would have been still more unhappy, could
she have anticipated the event of the campaign.

Uguccione engaged himself in the siege of the castle of Monte
Catini; and the Florentines, after having made every exertion to
assemble and discipline their troops, advanced against him with a
larger army than they had ever before brought into the field. Nor
were the preparations of Uguccione inferior in vigour; he assembled
all his allies, and awaited with confidence the arrival of the
enemy. During this interval however, the chief fell ill, and was
obliged to retire from the camp: the nominal command of the army
devolved on his eldest son Francesco; but all looked up to
Castruccio as their real leader. The Florentines advanced full of
hope; and the Lucchese awaited them with steady courage. The battle
was long and bloody; in the beginning of the combat Francesco was
killed, and Castruccio perceived the soldiers make a sudden halt,
when they saw their general fall: instantly feeling that the
command devolved upon him, he galloped to the front of the lines,
he threw off his casque that he might be distinguished, and,
bidding the trumpets sound, he led his troops to a fresh assault.
His army was drawn out on the plain, and every eye was turned
upwards towards the castle, which, situated on the height of a
steep hill, was the goal they must win. Castruccio had seen service
in France; but with far different feelings did he now engage in
battle. He was surrounded by his friends; he saw those he loved
advance with a steady eye to the danger towards which he led them;
he looked up, and saw above the high seated castle that he must
storm; he saw the closely set ranks of the enemy; he beheld all
this with one glance, one feeling quicker than a look, and the
trumpets sounded while he waved his sword; his spirits were
exhilarated, his heart swelled,--tears-- tears of high and
uncontrollable emotion, filled his eyes, as he dashed through the
ranks of the enemy, and cried, "Victory, or death!" None
dared disobey his voice. His dark brown hair, on which the sun
shone, might be distinguished amidst a forest of hostile javelins.
He was wounded; but he refused to retire; and fixing his eye on the
castle walls--he cried, "There is our home!" All gave way
before his fury; that part of the Florentine army which had been
drawn out on the plain, was dispersed and fled--the rest retreated
towards the castle; when he saw them retreat, when he first
perceived that they gave ground before him, his triumph and ecstasy
rose almost to frenzy; the mountain was steep, he threw himself
from his horse, his troop followed his example; he called on them
by the names of father and brother to follow his steps. "Go
on!" they cried, "go on!" And they broke through all
the impediments placed to impede their ascent, and were seen in
close array, winding up the steep path towards the castle.

The victory was due to him alone; he, ever foremost, scaled the
height, and first displayed the Ghibeline banner from the walls of
the castle of Monte Catini; while, his cheek pale with pain, and
his limbs trembling from loss of blood, it seemed almost as if his
own death would seal the bloody conquest. The Florentines sustained
irreparable loss; their general, the son of the king of Naples,
several of his relations, and many members of the noblest families
in Florence, fell. The loss is compared by the Florentine
historians to the defeat of Cannæ; and many years elapsed before
Florence could fill up the gap among her citizens made by the havoc
of that day.

Such was the news that blanched poor Euthanasia's cheek. She
had spent the period that had elapsed since the departure of
Castruccio, in utter solitude. Her anxiety, and the combat of
feelings which she experienced, destroyed all her peace: she dared
not give her prayers to either side; or if, following the
accustomed bent of her inclinations, she wished success to her
townsmen, the idea of Castruccio defeated, perhaps killed, turned
all her thoughts to double bitterness. Yet, when the Florentines
were indeed defeated, when messenger after messenger brought
intelligence from her terror- stricken friends of the sad losses
they had sustained, when the name of Castruccio as the slayer was
repeated with fear and curses by those whom she tenderly loved;
then indeed the current of her feelings returned with violence to
its accustomed channel, and, bitterly reproaching herself for
having dared to hesitate in a cause where her country was
concerned, she knelt down, and solemnly and deliberately made a
vow, sanctifying it by an appeal to all that she held sacred in
heaven and upon earth,--she made a deep and tremendous vow, never
to ally herself to the enemy of Florence: and then, somewhat calmed
in soul, though ever sorrowing, she waited for the return of
Castruccio to Lucca, so to learn if he could clear himself, or if
indeed he were that enemy to Florence against whom her vow was
made.

If the overthrow and massacre of the Florentines had moved her
soul to its very depths, her horror was tempered with tenderness,
when she heard that Castruccio had been brought back wounded to
Lucca. The glory of this victory was attributed to him alone; and
this glory, which appeared a shame to Euthanasia, excited in her
feelings of confusion and sorrow. Now for the first time she felt
the struggle in her soul, of inclination warring with duty; for the
first time she feared that she ought not to love Castruccio; she
thought of retreating to Florence, and of shutting him out from her
sight, if possible from her thoughts; yet, as she meditated this,
she thought she heard the soft tones of his melodious voice
sounding in her ears, and she sank into grief and tears.

This painful struggle ceased not, until she saw him again; and
then, as before, all pain and doubt vanished. His cheek was pale
from the consequences of his wound, and his person, having thus
lost its usual decision of mien, was more interesting; but his eyes
shone, and they beamed unutterable love upon her. Truly did he look
a hero; for power sat on his brow, and victory seemed to have made
itself a home among the smiles of his lips. "Triumph, my sweet
girl," he said; "all my laurels are spoils for you. Nay,
turn not away as if you disdained them; they are the assurances of
the peace that you desire. Do not doubt me; do not for a moment
suffer a cloud of suspicion to darken your animated countenance.
This sword has made me master of peace and war; and need I say,
that my wise and gentle Euthanasia shall direct my counsels, her
love and honour being the aim and purpose of my life?"

Upon such words could aught but pardon and reconciliation
attend?

Castruccio's wound was slight, and soon healed. But he was
now more than ever immersed in his political plans: throwing off
the mask, he appeared openly as the leader of a party against
Uguccione; his palace was for ever open, and crowded with friends
and followers; and, when he rode through the streets, he was
attended by a band of the first nobles in Lucca. To his other
talents Castruccio joined a vein of raillery and bitter irony,
which, when he chose to exert it, seemed to enter into and wither
the soul of its object. His scoffs and mockery of the Faggiuola
family were repeated through Lucca; and the person against whom
they were particularly directed, the governor whom Uguccione had
appointed, was a man formed to feel in every nerve the agony of
derision.

Francesco having been killed at the battle of Monte Catini,
Uguccione had set his son Ranieri over the Lucchese. Ranieri was
only two-and- twenty years of age; but his straight black hair fell
over a forehead prematurely wrinkled; without the courage of his
father, he possessed all his cunning and ambition, as much cruelty,
and even more deceit. He had long been a pretender to the hand of
the countess of Valperga,--with no hope except that with which his
own vanity inspired him: yet, when he perceived that Castruccio was
his favoured rival, he felt as if he had been robbed of his
inheritance; and the beauty, talents, and glory of his adversary
made him taste to the dregs the cup of envy. The consciousness of
power alone for a while restrained the manifestation of his
feelings. He soothed himself with the idea that Castruccio's
life was in his hands; yet a lurking doubt prevented him from
putting forth his strength; he glared on his enemy, as a tiger who
crouches within reach of his prey; but he dared not spring. He
would gladly have got rid of his rival by private assassination;
but Castruccio was too cautious, and ever went too well attended,
to afford an opportunity for such a measure. Rivalry in love was
however but a small part of the cause of the hate with which
Ranieri was filled; for Castruccio no longer disguised his
abhorrence of the cruelty of Uguccione, or his contempt for the
cowardly and artful policy of his son; and a man far less cunning
than Ranieri might easily perceive that he laboured day and night
for the overthrow of the Faggiuola family.

An accidental scuffle brought these feelings into action; it
were idle to attempt to discover the cause of a quarrel, at a
period when civil broils were so common, not only among the
Italians; but when the capitals of the French and English monarchs
were often stained with blood on the most trivial occasions. This
affray arose between the dependents of Ranieri and of count Fondi;
Castruccio and his companions joined in it; and it ended in the
rout and flight of Faggiuola's men, one of whom was killed.
Ranieri seized this opportunity to send to his father with greater
effect an account of the haughty conduct and machinations of
Castruccio. The truth had been sufficient to awaken the suspicions
of a man, whose rule it was never to permit an enemy to live; but
the colouring that Ranieri gave to the affair, made it appear as if
open war had been declared between the parties at Lucca. Uguccione
had bathed his hands that very winter in the best blood of Pisa;
and he considered one life more as a small sacrifice towards the
completion of his security. His advice therefore was to act
cautiously, but swiftly, and that the next messenger might bring
intelligence of the death of his adversary.

This direction filled Ranieri with unwonted joy; it smoothed the
wrinkles of his brow, and lighted up his eyes with ferocity: he
would willingly have led forth his troops, and seized Castruccio in
the midst of his partizans; but his deceitful disposition suggested
to him a quieter, and as he imagined, a surer mode of proceeding.
The enemies met at church; they disposed themselves on opposite
sides of the aisle,--the followers of Castruccio viewed their
opponents with a careless smile of contempt, which was returned by
a sullen scowl; while Ranieri manifested an alternation of gaiety
and uneasiness, which his art could not entirely conceal. High mass
being over, Castruccio was about to retire, when Ranieri, quitting
his attendants, walked across the aisle; seeing his movement, the
followers of Antelminelli crowded about him; but he bade them fall
back, and with a haughty step, and a smile of conscious
superiority, he also advanced towards his enemy; they met midway,
and the two parties, their hands on their swords, watched every
motion of their respective chiefs during this unexpected parley.
Had not Ranieri's character for artifice been impressed on
every mind, his appearance might now have lulled suspicion;--he
smiled, and spoke with a loud, careless voice; and what was hidden
under this friendly outside seemed rather timidity, than enmity:
Castruccio fixed his eagle-eye upon him; but fear appeared to be
the only feeling which lurked behind the frankness that Ranieri
wished to assume: nor did he shrink from the examination; he
spoke: