Ho, boy! cried the leader of the horsemen, Martino di Porto, one of the great House of the Orsini; hast thou seen a boat pass up the river?But thou must have seen ithow long since?
I saw a large boat about half an hour ago, answered the boy, terrified by the rough voice and imperious bearing of the cavalier.
Sailing right a-head, with a green flag at the stern?
The same, noble sir.
On, then! we will stop her course ere the moon rise, said the baron. On!let the boy go with us, lest he prove traitor, and alarm the Colonna.
An Orsini, an Orsini, shouted the multitude; on, on! and, despite the prayers and remonstrances of the boy, he was placed in the thickest of the crowd, and borne, or rather dragged along with the restfrightened, breathless, almost weeping, with his poor little garland still hanging on his arm, while a sling was thrust into his unwilling hand. Still he felt, through all his alarm, a kind of childish curiosity to see the result of the pursuit.
By the loud and eager conversation of those about him, he learned that the vessel he had seen contained a supply of corn destined to a fortress up the river held by the Colonna, then at deadly feud with the Orsini; and it was the object of the expedition in which the boy had been thus lucklessly entrained to intercept the provision, and divert it to the garrison of Martino di Porto. This news somewhat increased his consternation, for the boy belonged to a family that claimed the patronage of the Colonna.
Anxiously and tearfully he looked with every moment up the steep ascent of the Aventine; but his guardian, his protector, still delayed his appearance.
They had now proceeded some way, when a winding in the road brought suddenly before them the object of their pursuit, as, seen by the light of the earliest stars, it scudded rapidly down the stream.
Now, the Saints be blest! quoth the chief; she is ours!
Hold! said a captain (a German) riding next to Martino, in a half whisper; I hear sounds which I like not, by yonder treeshark! The neigh of a horse!by my faith, too, there is the gleam of a corselet.
Push on, my masters, cried Martino; the heron shall not balk the eaglepush on!
With renewed shouts, those on foot pushed forward, till, as they had nearly gained the copse referred to by the German, a small compact body of horsemen, armed cap-a-pie, dashed from amidst the trees, and, with spears in their rests, charged into the ranks of the pursuers.
A Colonna! a Colonna! An Orsini! an Orsini! were shouts loudly and fiercely interchanged. Martino di Porto, a man of great bulk and ferocity, and his cavaliers, who were chiefly German Mercenaries, met the encounter unshaken. Beware the bears hug, cried the Orsini, as down went his antagonist, rider and steed, before his lance.
The contest was short and fierce; the complete armour of the horsemen protected them on either side from wounds,not so unscathed fared the half-armed foot-followers of the Orsini, as they pressed, each pushed on by the other, against the Colonna. After a shower of stones and darts, which fell but as hailstones against the thick mail of the horsemen, they closed in, and, by their number, obstructed the movements of the steeds, while the spear, sword, and battle-axe of their opponents made ruthless havoc amongst their undisciplined ranks. And Martino, who cared little how many of his mere mob were butchered, seeing that his foes were for the moment embarrassed by the wild rush and gathering circle of his foot train (for the place of conflict, though wider than the previous road, was confined and narrow), made a sign to some of his horsemen, and was about to ride forward towards the boat, now nearly out of sight, when a bugle at some distance was answered by one of his enemy at hand; and the shout of Colonna to the rescue! was echoed afar off. A few moments brought in view a numerous train of horse at full speed, with the banners of the Colonna waving gallantly in the front.
A plague on the wizards! who would have imagined they had divined us so craftily! muttered Martino; we must not abide these odds; and the hand he had first raised for advance, now gave the signal of retreat.
Serried breast to breast and in complete order, the horsemen of Martino turned to fly; the foot rabble who had come for spoil remained but for slaughter. They endeavoured to imitate their leaders; but how could they all elude the rushing chargers and sharp lances of their antagonists, whose blood was heated by the affray, and who regarded the lives at their mercy as a boy regards the wasps nest he destroys. The crowd dispersing in all directions,some, indeed, escaped up the hills, where the footing was impracticable to the horses; some plunged into the river and swam across to the opposite bankthose less cool or experienced, who fled right onwards, served, by clogging the way of their enemy, to facilitate the flight of their leaders, but fell themselves, corpse upon corpse, butchered in the unrelenting and unresisted pursuit.
No quarter to the ruffiansevery Orsini slain is a robber the lessstrike for God, the Emperor, and the Colonna! such were the shouts which rung the knell of the dismayed and falling fugitives. Among those who fled onward, in the very path most accessible to the cavalry, was the young brother of Cola, so innocently mixed with the affray. Fast he fled, dizzy with terrorpoor boy, scarce before ever parted from his parents or his brothers side!the trees glided past himthe banks receded:on he sped, and fast behind came the tramp of the hoofsthe shoutsthe cursesthe fierce laughter of the foe, as they bounded over the dead and the dying in their path. He was now at the spot in which his brother had left him; hastily he glanced behind, and saw the couched lance and horrent crest of the horseman close at his rear; despairingly he looked up, and behold! his brother bursting through the tangled brakes that clothed the mountain, and bounding to his succour.
Save me! save me, brother! he shrieked aloud, and the shriek reached Colas ear;the snort of the fiery charger breathed hot upon him;a moment more, and with one wild shrill cry of Mercy, mercy he fell to the grounda corpse: the lance of the pursuer passing through and through him, from back to breast, and nailing him on the very sod where he had sate, full of young life and careless hope, not an hour ago.
The horseman plucked forth his spear, and passed on in pursuit of new victims; his comrades following. Cola had descended,was on the spot,kneeling by his murdered brother. Presently, to the sound of horn and trumpet, came by a nobler company than most of those hitherto engaged; who had been, indeed, but the advanced-guard of the Colonna. At their head rode a man in years, whose long white hair escaped from his plumed cap and mingled with his venerable beard. How is this? said the chief, reining in his steed, young Rienzi!
The youth looked up, as he heard that voice, and then flung himself before the steed of the old noble, and, clasping his hands, cried out in a scarce articulate tone: It is my brother, noble Stephen,a boy, a mere child!the bestthe mildest! See how his blood dabbles the grass;back, backyour horses hoofs are in the stream! Justice, my Lord, justice!you are a great man.
Who slew him? an Orsini, doubtless; you shall have justice.
Thanks, thanks, murmured Rienzi, as he tottered once more to his brothers side, turned the boys face from the grass, and strove wildly to feel the pulse of his heart; he drew back his hand hastily, for it was crimsoned with blood, and lifting that hand on high, shrieked out again, Justice! justice!