Chapter XXIIII: How Bartolommeo Trusted a Strange Jailer

It was morning before Hugh and his father grew weary of talking. Hugh looked up in amazement at the beam of sunlight that straggled through a narrow loophole in the wall.

"I had thought we were far underground," he exclaimed.

"Nay, fair son. This chamber is on the first floor of the Tower of Anemas in the outer walls of Blachernae. Betwixt us and freedom is naught but those stones."

Hugh examined the wall with interest. It was tremendously thick. Looking out through the loopholes was like peering through a tunnel, and midway of the space massy iron bars criss-crossed in an impenetrable barrier.

"Anemas and the nearby towers and walls," his father continued, "were built in part to buttress the terrace on which the Palace is placed. Hence they are vastly heavier than any other section of the fortifications. Around the base of the Tower of Anemas there is a counterfort, and this dungeon is constructed behind the protection of the counterfort as well as within the wall of the tower itself. Nay, Hugh, be not concerned with it. Escape lies not in that direction. An you had all the contrivances of a mason, still you must labour undisturbed for weeks to bore a path through the wall."

"Mayhap we can fall upon our guard when he comes with food," suggested Hugh.

Sir James shook his head.

"Three of the blacks come always together. Now that you are here, I make no doubt that six will come--and they are lusty knaves. Hugh, I like not to stifle your ambitions, but escape from Anemas is no light task."

"Art in the right, fair lord," assented Hugh gloomily. "But, by St. Cuthbert, it should be easier for two than one! And I would fain die striving for freedom, rather than exist at the sufferance of enemies."

His father smiled gently.

"Hast some understanding now, Hugh, of what I have suffered. But I would not hamper you. We will cast about and see what devices we may hit upon. You are like a draught of heady wine, sweet son. I am uplifted even now. Only, I prithee, be patient, for I am old and you are young."

Indeed, Hugh was obliged to commit himself to the routine of the dungeon. Study of the situation convinced him that his father was not exaggerating the difficulties of forcing an escape. The walls were impassable. The guards, who visited them twice a day to bring food and sweep out the dungeon, were alert and powerful, and even if they could be subdued, Hugh had a vivid recollection of the other gates and sentinels who must be overcome before the upper air was reached--and then their troubles would be just begun.

No, he agreed, escape by force was impossible under the present circumstances. He swallowed this unpleasant fact as readily as he could, and set himself to vie with Sir James in keeping his body strong and healthy, in spite of the inevitable languor of confinement. The two wrestled and contended, walked and danced. They had sufficient rough food to eat, and if the chill winter air found access to their chamber, it was proof against dampness. Save on days when the sun never shone they were not uncomfortable.

Hugh had been a prisoner two days when his guards forced him to remove his armour and accept in its stead a woollen cloak to cover his gambeson and quilted drawers. They searched him carefully from head to foot, and took every piece of metal in his possession, even to a medallion of St. Cuthbert which Prior Thomas had given him as a charm to ward off evil. His chief cause for regretting this deprivation was the disappointment his father experienced. Sir James had taken a child-like pleasure in donning the mail and accustoming his muscles to exercise again under the weight of armour. But it showed that their enemies were not forgetting them, and spurred Hugh on to seek a means of escape.

Several weeks passed without incident. Then one evening the door clashed open and Bartolommeo strode in, the six tongueless Ethiopians at his heels.

"Ha, fair sirs," he cried. "How like you this unwonted comradeship? Do you not owe old Bartolommeo a blessing for the service he hath done you? Ay, many folk have said that Bartolommeo had no heart and served the devil! Mayhap, mayhap! But certes he played the rôle of guardian angel when he brought you twain together. How now? How now? Hast talked things over? Art in better frame of mind, Messer Hugh? And you, Sir James--art prepared to be communicative? I have an offer for you, a pledge, an undertaking--ay, a veritable bargain such as one trader makes to another. Belike, you will chaffer with me."

"With you, Bartolommeo, or with your master?" asked Sir James drily.

"A shrewd wit, oh, a shrewd wit," chuckled Bartolommeo. "Ay, you are never sleeping when there is craft afoot. Well, what say you, Messers?"

"There is naught to go upon save Mocenigo's word, then?" said Sir James.

Bartolommeo cocked his head on one side.

"Hast clapped your finger on the worm-hole in the apple," he assented. "Ay, but beggers may not be choosers, an you please, Sir James; and we have you, as I might say, with a dagger to your throat and your helmet-laces cut."

"'Twas so I deemed it," returned Sir James. "There is naught to answer. You know me by now, Bartolommeo, and you know, too, that if you have me here, no less have I that which you seek here."

He touched his head.

"So you have, so you have," Bartolommeo agreed cheerfully. "Ay, and so hath the good youth, your son. 'Tis a tender morsel this sweet chit, Sir James, not used to dungeon fare or the torments of the rack. Mayhap, you would prefer to save him from the torment."

"I would rather he were torn limb from limb than that the secret you seek were imparted to your masters," replied Sir James shortly. "But an you tortured him you would gain naught. You know this, knave, so why clamour uselessly? 'Tis a false scent."

Bartolommeo chuckled again.

"Bravely answered. 'Tis as I expected. Well, Messers, we are busy in the world above, and we may not attend to you as your deserts warrant. But bide in patience. We shall yet give you good entertainment."

It was two weeks before he appeared again. They were weeks of the same dreary routine, the same conscientious exercise, the same utter silence save for what the prisoners said to one another. Yet Hugh did not find it so wearing as he had feared it might be. There was so much to tell his father, there was so much for his father to tell him, that the hours passed rapidly. The only times when his courage failed him were in the night whilst Sir James slept and he conned over Helena's threats and the danger in which Edith might stand. He wondered often if Edith thought of him, if his comrades had any idea of what had become of him, if any one still cared for him or missed him or strove for his release. One night he walked the dungeon until dawn.

The next morning Bartolommeo bustled in.

"I give you greeting, fair lords," the ruffian hailed them jovially. "We must part for a time. I am engaged upon other duties, the import of which I may not tell you. Ha, ha, ha! But I have a choice varlet to take my place. He will watch over you like a mother--ay, like a dam over its kid. Belike, you will regret Bartolommeo even so. Come within, Messer Ranulphio!"

A slender, hairy, little man stole into the dungeon, rubbing his hands together with a certain evil joyousness. His face bristled with a tangled beard, through which stared the sallow skin, and his eyes were very sharp. Hugh started at sight of him. He seemed vaguely familiar, uncannily suggestive of another personality. But there could be no mistake about the wickedness with which he eyed the prisoners.

"At your pleasure, Messer Caraducci," he answered in a cracked, high-pitched voice, with a malignant whine. "Are these the charges I am to take under my care? Ay, they will remember me. They will heed me. I have had knights in my care ere this, and they came to have high respect for me."

Bartolommeo regarded him with affectionate respect.

"Is he not a pleasant bit of a man?" he appealed to Sir James and Hugh. "A very trustworthy fellow, I can tell you. Ere he was fifteen he cut his mother's throat. A year later he slew the household of a noble in Florence for whom he worked, and made off with their ducats. He hath been outlawed from four cities, and hath been a pirate ten years. Oh, we are careful whom we select, Messer Mocenigo and I. We specialise in cut-throats. But this knave is after my own heart. I could envy him some of his deeds, and I take pride that he is a Venetian."

The new jailer bowed with mock humility.

"Two brave bodies for the torment," he whined. "They are no crook-boned scarecrows to fall apart at a twist of the rack. Nay, they will live long and suffer well. I will hold them in good care, Messer Bartolommeo."

"Why do you leave us, Bartolomeo?" enquired Hugh.

"A fair question, Messer Hugh, and I take it kindly that you ask it. Ay, it shows that you are not unmindful of old Bartolommeo's worth. Why, the truth is, there are affairs toward of which I may not speak. But the world will know in time, and Bartolommeo will be rewarded."

"How goes the siege?"

"Siege, say you? Nay, 'tis little enough of a siege. 'Tis more like a fly biting at the back of a bull. The bull flicks his tail, and the fly hangs on. But I say naught against the skill of my countrymen. Ay, I take pride in that I am a Venetian. For first, I have this incomparable compatriot here, Ranulphio, and next, I have those hardy varlets without the walls."

"What have they done?"

"The other night we launched fire-ships against them, planning to destroy their whole fleet. But think you they were dismayed or afraid? Not so. They sallied out in small boats to meet the fire-ships, turned them from their course and did not lose a single galley. A right seaman-like exploit. I am proud of such shipmasters."

"Art in a proudful mood, Bartolommeo," said Sir James. "And the priests say that pride cometh before a fall."

Bartolommeo roared with laughter and clapped his fellow-jailer on the back so hard that Ranulphio sputtered.

"What a treat you will have, Ranulphio! Now do you gauge my trust in you--ay, and my affection--that I turn over to you two such rare souls! I would I might increase our acquaintance, Sir James. But 'tis not every day I may strangle an---- But I say too much. Be assured, fair sirs, I would not leave you, save there was greater game in sight. Pride cometh before a fall! Ay, there is to be a fall for the proud--such a fall as will shake the world."

Ranulphio cackled shrilly in applause, and the two scoundrels left the dungeon arm in arm.

"Now what meant he by that?" said Sir James wonderingly. "But, certes, 'tis strange enough they should trust another with me--the first time in all these years. They must be very sure of us."

"There is some deep villainy afoot," replied Hugh. "Doubt it not, fair lord. Bartolommeo is the chief rogue of Mocenigo, and Mocenigo is the chief rogue of--well, whoever it may be hath paid him most. But tell me: hast ever seen this Ranulphio ere this?"

"Nay, Hugh, he is a stranger, a rat of a man, 'twould seem."

"Ay, but it sticks in my mind he is not a stranger to me. I would I might see clearly. But I may not. It is not the way he looks, but somewhat I cannot put my finger to."

Three nights later the door of the dungeon clanged open, and a lighted torch was thrust inside.

"Hugh!"

Hugh bounded to his feet, blinded by the sudden light, dazed, unbelieving. He put out one hand and touched his father, who had risen at his side.

"Who--who----" he faltered.

"Hugh, it is I."

The torch-flame etched clearly the hooded, muffled figure. Of face and hair there was not a sign. Betrayed once before in this wise, he could scarce trust his ears, scarce dared to credit his tingling senses.

"You--Edith----"

"Yes, it is I, Hugh."

"Who is with you?"

She turned and the light of the torch fell upon the figure of the man behind her who upheld it.

"Ranulphio!" cried Hugh. "Then they have----"

He leaped with hands outstretched, furious, intent to kill. But Edith forced him back. Her hood fell off in the struggle, and her golden hair, gleaming in the scanty light, was tangled in his hands. Perforce he hesitated.

"Hugh, are you mad?" she panted. "Do you not know him?"

"Who?" rasped Hugh.

She nodded behind her.

"Nay, I----"

Ranulphio stepped forward, a broad smile on his bearded face.

"'Twas well played, old comrade," he said. "Ha, to think that I have fooled you! 'Twas more than I expected."

The voice was the voice of Matteo. But still Hugh could not believe.

"Who is he?" he appealed to Edith.

"'Tis Messer Matteo in marvellous disguise. Ay, in sooth, Hugh. Doubt him not."

Hugh drew one hand across his eye.

"Father," he called abruptly. "Fair lord, art here?"

"I am here, Hugh."

"Do you see two figures as I see them?" questioned Hugh.

"I see them, fair son."

"Then am I sane. But----"

"There is no time for buts, Hugh," Matteo interrupted. "Hell bubbles overhead. Comnenus tries his skill once more at overturning a throne. In the confusion we dared to descend here, but if you are to escape we must hurry. There is no time to lose."

"Do you order us. We will obey. But how knew you where to find me?"

"Anon, comrade. For the nonce we have much to do. Follow me."

He led them out into the passageway, sweeping his torch overhead to light them, and barred the door of the empty dungeon. Then they traversed the corridors Hugh remembered on the lower level, until they came to a point where the passage divided. Here lay one of the black guards, stabbed to death.

"We have left a trail of blood," said Matteo with grim satisfaction over his shoulder. "The maid held the torch; I swung the knife. 'Tis a fit ending for such dogs. I would their master might have come within my ken."

"Where is he?" asked Hugh.

"He lurks above. Comnenus employs him with Mocenigo to do his killing. Old Isaac, they say, hath died of sheer fright. Alexius is seized and by now blinded or dead. In the Palace--all through the city--the contending parties riot over who shall be Emperor. But Comnenus and that tigress daughter of his pull the strings."

All this time Edith had been silent, walking at Hugh's side, betwixt him and Sir James. Now Hugh turned to her again.

"How come you hither?"

"'Tis a long story, Hugh. When the lords of the host sent word to the Emperors after your seizure, bidding them give you up or assume the consequences of treachery, I set to work to learn what had been done with you. My father hath ever stayed clear of the intrigue in the Palace, but I have friends of my own. 'Twas not difficult to learn how you had been trapped. The rest is Matteo's doing."

"Nay, she robs herself of merit," Matteo broke in. "All I have done she helped me to do. I was like a madman, Hugh, when Villehardouin came back without you. So were all of us. The Marshal went to Boniface and demanded permission to storm the walls that night, but Dandolo held us back. He counselled us to wait. If they meant to slay you, he said, they would do it before we could reach you. If you were a prisoner, we could afford to await a sure opportunity for your release. So we dispatched a cartel to the Emperors, and for answer came to me a message from your lady here, who bade me come to her in the city, prescribing the disguise I should assume and the part I was to play."

Hugh saw that Edith blushed red as the torch-flame, whose resinous light betrayed her confusion.

"Messer Matteo is over-modest," she insisted. "All I did was to advise him. He acted for himself. He entered the city; he came to Mocenigo as an outcast from the Venetian fleet, begging for service, convincing Mocenigo he was as great a villain as ever lived, and so obtained employment in the political prison. After that, 'twas only necessary to learn where you were imprisoned and await a favourable opportunity to set you free. To-night was made for us."

"Knew you of my imprisonment, my maid?" asked Sir James.

"Not so, fair lord--not until Bartolommeo took Messer Matteo to your dungeon. He was greatly surprised to learn who you were--as was I. My father hath always been told that none knew what had become of you."

Sir James sighed as he walked along.

"I grow bitter when I think of all the years I have languished here," he said, "and 'twas so easy to break loose when the right time came. Ah, well, the Virgin be thanked that there was a maid as brave and true as you, Mistress Edith, and a comrade as staunch and valorous as Messer Matteo. Lion-Heart would have loved a man like you, Sir Jongleur. God knows that without your aid we must have stayed in the hands of our enemies."

Matteo halted in front of a door set deep in the rocky walls of the passage.

"Is this the gate, lady?" he asked.

"Ay," she answered. "This is the postern of Anemas. 'Tis set in the angle of the tower where it joins the walls and is fronted with stone so that it may not be discerned from the outside. There is no moat to cross here, and you will find no further obstacles betwixt you and your friends."

"But you?" exclaimed Hugh.

"I must say farewell, Hugh. My place is here."

"Nay, that cannot be," he denied passionately. "Here you are in danger, Edith. Helena Comnena is your enemy. She hath sworn to me that she will----"

Edith smiled in the torchlight--and Hugh wondered why there was contentment in her smile.

"She may threaten, Hugh, but she cannot harm me. I am the daughter of the Grand Acolyth."

"Be not so sure, lady," intervened Sir James. "The Court is not as it used to be. The adventurers have the upper hand. The Comnenoi are the most powerful family in Constantinople to-day by all we hear. An they mean to injure you, doubt not they will achieve their purpose."

"I thank you, fair lord, for your warning," replied Edith with quiet dignity, "but an the danger were so great as you say, still is my place by my father's side. He hath none but me, and certes, the danger is as great to him."

Sir James bowed before her.

"Right knightly spoken, sweet maid," he said, "Hugh, we may not, with honour, plead further. She hath the right of us."

Hugh looked at her sorrowfully.

"But how will you regain your apartments from here?" he demanded.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"There is naught betwixt me and my chamber but dead men. Messer Matteo hath seen to that."

"Ay, she will be safe an she goes quickly," agreed Matteo. "There is a privy way from the wing of the Palace over our heads to the Grand Acolyth's apartments."

He fumbled at the bars of the door and made ready to swing it open.

"With your favour, Sir James, we must make haste."

"I follow you."

They put their shoulders to the postern-door, and for a brief minute Hugh and Edith stood face to face, alone. His fingers were searching in the breast of his gambeson; her cheeks were pink and her eyes very bright.

"Here is your glove," he said. "Wilt have it back, Edith, or am I still your knight?"

"Art still my knight, Hugh," she answered steadily. "There is none other--nor ever will be. And for that I wronged you when first we met in the Audience Hall above, I cry your pardon. Hast been true to me as I have been true to you."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. The postern-door creaked open behind them.

"Prithee, take the torch, lady," said Matteo. "Come, Hugh."

She stooped quickly and kissed Hugh fair on the lips. Then, before he could say anything, she pushed him through the postern and the stone-fronted door swung shut.