The Constable De Bourbon

“They appear hard now, but you will not think them so when you are at liberty, brother,” said the Emperor.

“Neither will you be bound by them,” whispered Marguerite. “The violence offered releases you from all engagements.”

“His majesty must pledge his royal word to return to prison, if all the conditions of the treaty be not fulfilled within three months,” said Lannoy.

“How say you, brother? Will you give that pledge?” demanded Charles V.

“He will – he does!” interposed Marguerite.

“Nay, madame, let the king speak for himself,” said the Emperor.

“I give the required pledge,” said François, with evident reluctance.

“But your majesty must also give hostages for your good faith,” remarked Bourbon.

“Hostages!” exclaimed François.

“Yes, sire, hostages – hostages the most precious to yourself and to your people – your two elder sons. They must take your place, and remain in captivity till all be fulfilled.”

“Sire, you do not require this?” cried François.

“If you mean fairly, brother – as I feel sure you do – where is the hardship?” rejoined Charles V., “I must have an exchange of prisoners.”

“Assent,” whispered Marguerite. “We will soon find means to liberate the princes.”

“Well, sire, I must perforce agree,” said François.

“One point only remains,” said the Emperor. “I would willingly have kept it separate, but circumstances require that it should form part of the treaty. It relates to my sister Leanor, the widowed queen of Portugal.”

“Yes, sire, and I now renew the proposal I have made to you respecting the queen,” said François. “Do you agree to give me her hand?”

“Sire,” interposed Bourbon, haughtily, “you have already promised your sister to me.”

“Before giving that promise I ought to have consulted her,” said Charles.

“You would have me to understand that she declines the alliance,” said Bourbon.

“The queen could scarce hesitate between a proscribed prince and a powerful monarch,” said Marguerite, in a tone that stung Bourbon to the quick.

“You mistake, madame,” he cried, sharply. “‘Tis the prince who is powerful, and the king a prisoner. However, I relinquish my claim. Your Imperial Majesty is free to bestow the queen your sister on whomsoever you list.”

“Then, brother, she is yours,” said the Emperor to François; “and I may now tell you frankly that your chivalrous qualities have won her admiration, and that she can give you her heart as well as her hand. The alliance, I trust, will form a lasting bond of amity between us. By the terms of the treaty you are bound to cede Burgundy to me. I am willing that you should settle the duchy upon my sister, to revert to me in default of issue by the marriage.”

“Sire, I am content,” said François.

“Since we are fully agreed, let the treaty be signed,” said Charles V

The document was then laid on the table, and being duly signed and sealed by the two monarchs, was delivered to the custody of the grand-chancellor.

The Emperor then signified his desire to be left alone with the King of France, and the others withdrew.

“I have a few words to say to you, brother,” said Charles V., drawing near the king. “You are now free – perfectly free. Up to this moment we have treated together as princes, let us now deal as loyal gentlemen. You are esteemed, and with reason, the model of chivalry. Tell me, with the frankness of a preux chevalier, who has never broken his word that you mean to perform the compact you have made with me.”

And he fixed a searching look upon the king as he spoke.

“Sire,” replied François, pointing to a crucifix fixed against the wall beside them, “I swear on that cross to deal loyally with you.”

“Then if you fail, I may say you have forfeited your word?” said the Emperor, still fastening his keen grey eyes upon him.

“You may, sire. But rest easy. Foi de gentilhomme! I shall not fail.”

Perfectly satisfied by these assurances, Charles V. caused the doors of the castle to be thrown open, and conducted his somewhile prisoner to the royal palace, where apartments suitable to his rank were assigned him.

A few days afterwards, François was affianced to Leanor of Portugal, and as soon as he was able to travel, he proceeded with a strong guard, under the charge of Lannoy and Alarcon, towards Fontarabia.

In the centre of the river Bidassoa, which divides France and Spain, a bark was moored, and in this little vessel the exchange between the king and his two sons took place.

François tenderly embraced his sons, and, bidding them farewell, caused himself to be rowed to the opposite bank, exclaiming joyfully, as he leaped ashore, “Once more, I am king.”

Mounting a swift charger, he speeded towards Bayonne, where he found the Duchess d’Angoulême and the court awaiting him.

How he violated the conditions of the treaty of Madrid, and how he broke his plighted faith with the Emperor, it is not the purpose of this history to relate.

END OF THE SIXTH BOOK

BOOK VII. – THE SACK OF ROME

I. HOW VON FRUNDSBERG ONCE MORE ENTERED ITALY WITH HIS LANZ-KNECHTS

Deeply mortified, Bourbon quitted Madrid immediately after the liberation of François I., and returned to Lombardy.

In order to conciliate him, Charles V. had appointed him to the supreme command of the army of Italy, and he had now no rival to thwart him, Pescara having died during his absence.

Francesco Sforza having joined the Italian league, as previously stated, and openly declared against the Emperor, had shut himself up in the citadel of Milan, where he was besieged by the Imperial generals. Their forces were quartered in the city, and the miserable inhabitants, having been disarmed, were completely at the mercy of the rapacious soldiers, who took what they pleased, forcing their victims by torments to give their property. The shops and magazines were gutted of their stores, and the owners not merely robbed, but ill treated.

To prevent egress from the city, the gates were strictly guarded, and many persons committed suicide by hurling themselves from the walls, in order to escape from the horrible tyranny to which they were subjected. It was while the inhabitants were in this miserable condition that Bourbon arrived at Milan to assume the command of the Imperial army.

As soon as he had taken up his quarters in the ducal palace, he was waited upon by the podesta and the magistrates, who represented to him in the most moving terms the lamentable state of the city, and implored him to encamp the army without the walls. Bourbon appeared touched by what he heard, but he professed his inability to relieve the city from oppression, unless the means of doing so were afforded him.

“I feel your distress, and the distress of your fellow-citizens, most acutely,” he said. “But I can only see one remedy for it. All the disorders on the part of the soldiery of which you complain, and which I deeply deplore, are caused by want of pay. The generals have had no money to give them, and have therefore been compelled to tolerate this dreadful licence. I am in the same predicament. Furnish me with thirty thousand ducats, so that I can offer these refractory troops a month’s pay, and I will compel them to encamp without the walls of the city, and so liberate you from further persecution.”

“Alas! my lord, we are in such a strait that we cannot comply with your suggestion,” said the podesta. “We have been plundered of our all.”

“Make a final effort, my good friends,” said Bourbon. “You must have some secret hoards kept for an extremity like the present. Do not hesitate. Without money I cannot help you.”

“We despair of raising the large sum named by your highness,” rejoined the podesta, dolefully. “But should we succeed, may we rely upon your promise? Pardon the doubt. We have been so often deceived.”

“I, too, have been deluded by false promises, and by a monarch whose word should be sacred,” rejoined Bourbon. “Bring the money without fear. If I deceive you, may I perish by the first shot fired by the enemy at the first battle in which I shall be engaged.”.

“Your oath is recorded in heaven, my lord!” said the podesta, solemnly. And he quitted the palace with his brother magistrates.

Two days afterwards, the money was brought and distributed by Bourbon among the soldiery, but he was unable to make good his word. The insatiable Spaniards refused to quit their quarters, and the wretched citizens, betrayed in their last hope, had no other refuge but death.

After holding out for a few weeks, at the end of which time the garrison was reduced to the last extremities, Sforza capitulated, and was allowed to retire to Como, from which city he subsequently fled to join the army of the Italian League.

Had the Emperor possessed the sinews of war, he might easily have subjugated the whole of Italy at this juncture; but as he was unable to pay his army, and allowed it to subsist by plundering the country, he could neither extend his conquests nor retain what he had won. All the cities of Lombardy were ready to throw off the yoke imposed upon them, and to rise against their oppressors. The Italian States, as we have previously mentioned, had leagued together for the defence of the country, and a powerful army had been raised by the Duke of Urbino, assisted by the renowned Giovanni de’ Medici and other leaders, to hold Bourbon in check.

And there was good reason for apprehension. A storm was brewing, which threatened to lay waste the whole of the fair land of Italy. The restless ambition of Bourbon led him to seek for fresh conquests, and he now turned his thoughts towards the south, designing to plunder Rome and make himself King of Naples.

But the army, though devoted to him, was not sufficiently strong for the execution of his plan. While he was considering how he could increase his troops, he learnt, to his great joy, that his late companion-in-arms, Von Frundsberg, had again collected together a large force in Germany, and he immediately despatched Pomperant to acquaint that leader with his project, and to exhort him to enter Italy with all possible despatch, promising him a far larger booty in the new campaign than he had gained at the battle of Pavia.

Incited by this promise, Von Frundsberg entered Italy at the head of fourteen thousand lanz-knechts, and five hundred reiters contributed by the Archduke Ferdinand, under the command of Captain Zucker.

Debouching by the Val de Sabbia, devastating the country as he marched along, plundering the churches and destroying the images, Von Frundsberg at last reached Borgoforte on the Po, whither he was followed by the Duke of Urbino and Giovanni de’ Medici.

A sharp engagement took place, but it was quickly decided in favour of the Germans. During a charge made at the head of his light horse by Medici, that valiant leader was struck by a shot from a falconet, and his leg being grievously shattered, he was carried off the field.

This unlucky event turned the fortune of the day. Discouraged by the fate of their leader, Medici’s cavalry were dispersed by Zucker, while the Venetian infantry retired before Von Frundsberg.

The successful issue of this conflict, the first in which they had been engaged since their irruption into Italy, greatly encouraged the marauding army. Continuing their march without further interruption from the Duke of Urbino, they skirted the right bank of the Po, ravaging the whole territory of Modena, Reggio, and Parma, preying like a cloud of locusts on that rich and fertile district, sacking and burning villages, plundering the churches, and finally halted near Piacenza, where Von Frundsberg pitched his camp to await a junction with Bourbon.

Meanwhile, the army of the Italian League had lost its best leader – the only one, indeed, capable of successfully checking the invasion. From the field of Borgoforte the gallant Giovanni de’ Medici was transported to Mantua, when it was found that his leg was so grievously injured that it was necessary to amputate the limb. The hardy young warrior held a light for the surgeons, and watched them during their task, without shrinking or even changing countenance. But his life could not be saved by the operation.

Thus died Italy’s best champion, and on whom she might have relied at her hour of need.

II. HOW BOURBON COMMENCED HIS MARCH TO HOME

Long before Von Frundsberg and his barbarous hordes had reached Piacenza, Bourbon would have joined them, but he found it impossible to remove the Imperial army from Milan without giving them a modicum of the arrears of pay due to them. Already he had distributed his money and jewels among them, and had nothing more to give. In vain he endeavoured to extort fresh supplies from the miserable citizens; their resources were utterly exhausted, and the worst torments proved ineffectual.

In this dilemma, a plan of raising money occurred to him, and was at once put in execution.

Girolamo Moroni, Sforza’s chancellor and private secretary, had been imprisoned in the Castle of Pavia by Pescara, and still remained a captive. Knowing that Moroni possessed great wealth, and hoping to extort a large sum from him by working on his fears, Bourbon visited him in the castle. The prisoner, who regarded Bourbon as a friend, was well pleased to see him.

“You are come to deliver me?” he said.

“I am come to deliver you from bondage, but not in the way you expect,” rejoined Bourbon, sternly. “Prepare for death. You will be beheaded to-morrow morning.”

“For what crime?” demanded Moroni, trembling. “What have I done?”

“You have conspired against the Emperor, and have induced Francesco Sforza to join the Italian League,” rejoined Bourbon.

“But in putting me to death you will deprive yourself of a most useful agent,” said the wily chancellor. “I can aid you effectually against the League.”

“I care not for the League,” rejoined Bourbon. “But I will save you on one condition. I know you have a large sum of money concealed – ”

“I swear to your highness that you are mistaken,” interrupted Moroni. “I have been despoiled of all my treasures by Pescara.”

“I know better,” said Bourbon. “You have a secret hoard. Pay me thirty thousand ducats, and you shall be set free. Otherwise, your head will fall on the block.”

“Thirty thousand ducats! Impossible, highness! Where am I to get that sum?”

“That is best known to yourself. I will give you two days to find the money. On the morning of the third day, if it be not forthcoming, you will die.”

“I pray your highness to consider that compliance with the demand is impossible.”

“I make no demand,” said Bourbon. “I offer your life on very easy terms.”

And he quitted the cell.

As Moroni remained obstinate, in order to intimidate him still further, Bourbon caused a large scaffold to be reared in the court of the castle, in sight of the windows of his prison-chamber.

These dismal preparations were not without effect. Believing that Bourbon would really execute his threat, Moroni sent for him, and delivered him the money.

“Ha! I felt certain you could procure it,” cried Bourbon, as he took the bags of gold. “This money will enable me to march to Rome.”

On his return to Milan, Bourbon assembled his army, and after distributing the money among them, he thus harangued them:

“Valiant captains and brave soldiers! – The time has now arrived when I must acquaint you with my secret intentions. Ere long, I hope to enrich you all by the sack of Rome – to deliver to you its nobles, its senators, its prelates, with all their wealth. You shall have the whole consistory of cardinals to deal with as you list – nay, Pope Clement himself who has excommunicated us all, and who so unworthily fills the chair of Saint Peter.”

This address was received with enthusiastic acclamations. The captains drew their swords, and the men brandished their halberds, or shook their arquebusses above their heads, and a universal shout arose of “To Rome! – to Rome!”

“I will not deceive you, my brave companions,” pursued Bourbon, as soon as the clamour ceased. “I have nothing more to give you. I am a poor knight – poor as yourselves. But as I have told you, we shall all become rich at Rome. Let us march thither at once. The Baron von Frundsberg and his lanz-knechts are waiting for us near Piacenza. Let us join them without delay, or they may go on and reach Rome before us.”

“We are ready to march at once,” cried a thousand voices. “To Rome! – to Rome! Vive Bourbon!” Bourbon did not allow their enthusiasm to cool, but put them in order of march at once, using so much expedition, that late in the following day he had effected a junction with Von Frundsberg.

When the two armies were combined, Bourbon found himself at the head of twenty-two thousand men – namely, fourteen thousand lanz-knechts brought by Frundsberg, five hundred reiters under Captain tucker, five thousand Spaniards, two thousand Italians, and a thousand light horse.

“With such an army as this,” he said to Von Frundsberg, as they rode together along the lines, “I can conquer all Italy.”

III. HOW BOURBON REACHED THE APENNINES

In the fierce bands of which Bourbon was now the leader, Italy found a scourge such as it had not endured since it was overrun by Alaric. The Spaniards were cruel and rapacious, worse than brigands, and scarcely amenable to discipline. The Germans were equally savage, and even more undisciplined, and, being all Lutherans and inflamed with intense hatred against the Pope and the creed of Rome, believed they were serving the cause of the Reformed religion by plundering and slaughtering its opponents. The Italians, who were commanded by Fabrizio Maramaldo, Sciarra Colonna, and Ludovico Gonzaga, had all the worst qualities of their Spanish and German associates, being bloodthirsty and licentious, and capable of any deed of violence or rapacity. Among the Spanish leaders who still remained with the army was the Marquis del Vasto, but since the death of his redoubted relative, Pescara, and the increased popularity of Bourbon, he exercised little authority over the troops.

Over the whole of this wild host, composed of such heterogeneous materials – Lutherans, Romanists, scoffers at all creeds – no one exercised supreme control but Bourbon. The lanz-knechts were devoted to Von Frunds-berg, and the reiters to Zucker, but neither Spaniards nor Italians would have served under such leaders. By a mixture of firmness and indulgence, which he knew so well how to practise, by his frankness and easiness of manner, Bourbon kept the wildest and most ferocious under a certain restraint and discipline, and though he was often compelled to make a severe example of some mutinous ruffian, the army ever recognised the justice of the sentence, and upheld his authority.

That Bourbon should be content to link his fortunes with soldiers whose professed objects were plunder and violence, may appear surprising, but it must be borne in mind that his nobler impulses had been checked, if not destroyed, by the life he had lately led. Ambition still reigned within his breast, the desire of conquest still animated him strongly as ever – even more strongly, perhaps – but he no longer cared by what means, or by what instruments, he attained his end. If he could gain a crown, no matter how it was won.

Meanwhile, he had succeeded in convincing the soldiers that he had become an adventurer like themselves. As we have said, he had stripped himself of all his money and jewels, and retained only his sword and lance, his accoutrements and his steed. Yet never had he been so powerful as now. None dared to disobey him. While idolising him, the men stood in awe of him, and the captains and generals feared him. He had become the master-spirit of the whole host, by whom all its plans and movements were directed. He was now without territory and without money, his home was the camp, his family the army. Of all his followers, the only one who accompanied him on his march to Rome was Pomperant. Like himself, Pomperant was still proscribed.

Proceeding slowly so as not to fatigue his troops, Bourbon marched by San Donino, Parma, Reggio, and Modena towards Bologna.

He did not stop to attack any of these cities, but contented himself with ravaging the surrounding country, emptying the granaries, and stripping the monasteries and churches of their plate and ornaments. The zealous Lutherans completed the work of destruction by demolishing the shrines and images. Abundance of provisions being brought in each day by the foraging parties, who scoured the country round, the army fared sumptuously, and Von Frundsberg caroused nightly in his tent with Zucker and the German captains.

When within a day’s march of Bologna, Bourbon had a conference with Alfonso d’Este, Duke of Ferrara, who, having been excluded from the Italian League by the Pope, was favourable to the invasion.

Bourbon endeavoured to prevail upon the duke to furnish him with artillery, of which he stood greatly in need. D’Este declined to supply the cannon, but made Bourbon a large subsidy, which enabled him to give two crowns to each of the lanz-knechts, being the first pay they had received since they had started on the expedition.

Having no artillery to attack Bologna, Bourbon continued his march. His position was one of some danger. In his rear was the Duke of Urbino and the Venetian army, while in front were the Pontifical troops, commanded by the Marquis of Saluzzo. The latter, however, retired as the invaders advanced, and the Duke of Urbino, not wishing to risk an engagement, contented himself with harassing their rear.

As he pursued his march, Bourbon’s army was daily augmented by hundreds of lawless adventurers, by deserters from the army of the League, and from the Pontifical army, who flocked round his standard, drawn towards it by the hope of plunder. Bourbon welcomed them all, brigands as they were, the bulk of his host being composed of similar material.

He was now approaching the Apennines, and had reached a wild and picturesque spot on the spur of the mountains, where the army, sheltered by some high rocks, had encamped for the night. The soldiers were collected in groups around their fires, carousing, gambling, jesting, quarrelling, or making merry, as was their wont. Some of the Spanish soldiers were chanting a song, composed in their leader’s honour, which commenced thus:

Calla, calla, Julio Cesar, Hannibal, Scipion,Viva la fama de Bourbon!

While Bourbon was making his rounds, he heard the sentinels challenge a horseman who was riding up the hill towards the camp, and sent Pomperant to question him.

IV. THE PRINCE OF ORANGE

The person stopped by the sentinels was a young man of about five-and-twenty, of martial bearing and aspect. He was tall, well proportioned, and possessed handsome features, characterised by a proud, fierce expression, and Pomperant’s first impression on beholding him was, that he was a Venetian officer charged with a message from the Duke of Urbino; but as he drew near, and the stranger’s countenance could be more clearly distinguished, Pomperant uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, for he recognised in him one of the bitterest enemies of Franee, and one of the most devoted friends of the Duke de Bourbon, the Prince of Orange.

Young as he was, Philibert de Chalons, Prince of Orange, was one of the most distinguished captains of the day. He came of an ancient Burgundian house, and inherited all the warlike qualities of his ancestry. Of a remarkably fierce and vindictive temperament, he never forgave an injury. His animosity towards François I. originated in a slight offered him by that monarch. At the ceremonial of the baptism of the Dauphin, the Prince of Orange was one of the invited guests, and appeared at the Louvre with a retinue befitting his rank, but he was very coldly received by the king, and the apartments designed for him in the palace were given to another. Highly incensed by this treatment, he immediately returned to his castle of Nozerol, and subsequently offered his services to the Emperor, who received him with open arms, and compensated him by other lands for the territories of which he was deprived by the King of France.

Philibert’s conduct justified the Emperor’s sagacity. The young prince greatly distinguished himself at the siege of Fontarabia.

When Bourbon invaded Provence, Philibert sailed from Barcelona to join him, but being taken prisoner, as may be remembered, by Andrea Doria, he was carried to France, and imprisoned in the castle of Lusignan in Poitou, where he was detained in close captivity until after the battle of Pavia.