The Shame of Motley | Page 7

that I should afford myself more protection against the
inclement January night than that of my foliated cape, my crested cap
and silken hose. So, a black cloak, heavy and ample, a broad-brimmed
hat, and a pair of riding boots of untanned leather were my further
equipment. In the lining of one of those boots I concealed the Lord
Cesare's package; his money--some twenty ducats--I carried in a belt
about my waist, and his ring I set boldly on my finger.
Few moments did it need me to make ready, yet fewer, it seems, would
the Borgia impatience have had me employ; for scarce was I booted
when someone knocked at my door. I opened, and there entered a very
mountain of a man, whose corselet flashed back the yellow light of my
tapers, as might have done a mirror, and whose harsh voice barked out
to ask if I was ready.
I had had some former acquaintance with this fellow, having first met
him during the previous year, on the occasion of the Court of Pesaro's
sojourn at Rome. His name was Ramiro del' Orca, and throughout the
Papal army it stood synonymous for masterfulness and grim brutality.
He was, as I have said, an enormous man, of prodigious bodily strength,
heavy, yet of good proportions. Of his face one gathered the impression
of a blazing furnace. His cheeks and nose were of a vivid red, and still
more fiery was the hair, now hidden 'neath his morion, and the beard
that tapered to a dagger's point. His very eyes kept tune with the red

harmony of his ferocious countenance, for the whites were ever
bloodshot as a drunkard's--which, with no want of truth, men said he
was.
"Come," grunted that fiery, self-sufficient vassal, "be stirring, sir Fool.
I have orders to see you to the gates. There is a horse ready saddled for
you. It is the Lord Cardinal's parting gift. Resolve me now, which will
be the greater ass--the one that rides, or the one that is ridden?"
"0 monstrous riddle!" I exclaimed, as I took up my cloak and hat. "Who
am I that I should solve it?"
"It baffles you, sir Fool?" quoth he.
"In very truth it does." I ruefully wagged my head so that my bells set
up a jangle. "For the rider is a man and the ridden a horse. But," I
pursued, in that back-biting strain, which is the very essence of the
jester's wit, "were you to make a trio of us, including Messer Ramiro
del' Orca, Captain in the army of his Holiness, no doubt would then
afflict me. I should never hesitate which of the three to pronounce the
ass."
"What shall that mean?" he asked, with darkening brows.
"That its meaning proves obscure to you confirms the verdict I was
hinting at," I taunted him. "For asses are notoriously of dull
perceptions." Then stepping forward briskly: "Come, sir," I sharply
urged him, "whilst we engage upon this pretty play of wit, his
Excellency's business waits, which is an ill thing. Where is this horse
you spoke of?"
He showed me his strong, white teeth in a very evil smile.
"Were it not for that same business--" he began.
"You would do fine things, I am assured," I interrupted him.
"Would I not?" he snarled. "By the Host! I should be wringing your

pert neck, or laying bare your bones with a thong of bullock-hide, you
ill conditioned Fool!"
I looked at him with pleasant, smiling eyes.
"You confirm the opinion that is popularly held of you," said I.
"What may that be?" quoth he, his eyes very evil. "In Rome, I'm told,
they call you hangman."
He growled in his throat like an angered cur, and his hands were jerked
to the level of his breast, the fingers bending talon-wise.
"Body of God!" he muttered fiercely, "I'll teach one fool, at least--"
"Let us cease these pleasantries, I entreat you," I laughed. "Saints
defend me! If your mood incline to raillery you'll find your match in
some lad of the stables. As for me, I have not the time, had I the will, to
engage you further. Let me remind you that I would be gone."
The reminder was well-timed. He bethought him of the journey I must
go, on which he was charged to see me safely started.
"Come on, then," he growled, in a white heat of passion that was only
curbed by the consideration of that slender, pale young cardinal, his
master.
Still, some of his rage he vented in roughly taking me by the collar of
my doublet, and dragging the almost headlong from the room, and so
a-down a flight of steps out into the courtyard. Meet treatment for a
Fool--a treatment to which