Death of a Duchess Read Online Free PDF Page B

must be robbers.’
    ‘They were hooded, my lord, and this was at cocklight; but they did see the colours of one rider by the flambeaux.’
    ‘Colours?’ said the Duke. ‘Whose colours?’
    Sigismondo held out the scrap of cloth. ‘Bandini, your Grace.’
     

Chapter Four
Dark as the grave
    The Duke was on his feet as the two men launched into howling oratory. His handclap, like a thunder crack, silenced them and brought an eruption of men-at-arms through the doors. He held up his hand to still his men, and ordered the doors closed. In the resumed quiet, he nodded to his secretary, who went to stand at his desk. Di Torre was once more sagging, Bandini working his hands inside his sleeves in frustration.
    ‘When I last called you before me,’ said the Duke, and his voice grated with anger, ‘I warned you that one single act more in this feud from either of you would be punished. The fine I threatened then is now exacted. You are both confined to your houses, you and your families.’
    As both men began to speak, he strode to the front of the dais and there towering above them said, ‘Silence!’ The secretary’s quill skittered and squeaked, recording his decree. Sigismondo had stepped back from between the men and stood with hands clasped before him. The Duke’s surge of movement was a tangible force that stilled the antagonists.
    ‘You would speak? You would object? Protest at our mercy? I tell you now — do you mark me, Bandini? Do you hear, di Torre? — that this is the last of our mercy to you. If either lifts hand or causes hand to be lifted against the other, their kin, goods, chattels, servants or lands, that man forfeits his possessions to the State, his household goods and merchandise, moneys and bonds, clothing and chattels, and his very life shall be at Our mercy. I will have these wars no more. Bandini, you will restore the girl. This is Our decree this day and shall not be revoked.’
    He turned on his heel, and strode from the chamber, the great cloak swirling behind him. The secretary still wrote, the guards opened the doors and the Duke’s Marshal entered. Both antagonists seemed stricken to stone. Di Torre recovered first, hurrying to meet his secretary and steward, talking to them frenetically as they followed him to the door, and paying no heed to the slave girl’s shrouded form. Bandini spoke to Sigismondo, who bowed slightly, before he went out by another door. The girl’s body was lifted and taken away. Courtiers entered, crowding round the great fireplace, speculating loudly and with animation on what might have passed, guessing and making bets. Sigismondo turned and came down the length of the room. With one hand he collected Benno from his niche and propelled him past the men-at-arms at the side door into an anteroom of plain unadorned stone. He gave Benno’s head a slight cuff that set it ringing.
    Benno followed him down a stair and into an unexpected small room in a bend of the flight. A leather curtain shut it off from the stair, a lantern burnt on the floor beside a pallet. There was a decided lack of space for anything else. Sigismondo lifted a corner of the bed and pulled out a roll from below it, which undid into a cloak resembling the duke’s only in size, being plain dark wool. He lent Benno a corner of it, furled himself in the rest, and said, ‘We have time to sleep before the feast. If you can make yourself cleaner you may stand behind me at table and get a share.’
    Benno, who had long ceased to smell his own ours, and who had been smelling the feast for some time, felt cheerful. He had not given any thought to how he might eat; that was Sigismondo’s responsibility as his master and he felt well catered for in the prospect. He curled up on the end of the pallet. ‘I’ve never been to a feast before,’ he said.
    ‘Make the most of it. Tomorrow may be well occupied.’
    ‘What—’ Benno said, and stopped.
    ‘Mm — mm. Well done... I’m far from sure that