“Not so,” answered Montreal; “thou art a bold fellow enough, and a cunning—­but my head in these matters is better than thine.  Besides,” continued the Knight, lowering his voice, and shading his face, “I had vowed a pilgrimage to the beloved river, and the old trysting-place.  Ah me!—­But all this, Brettone, thou understandest not—­let it pass.  As for my safety, since we have come to this amnesty with Albornoz, I fear but little danger even if discovered:  besides, I want the florins.  There are those in this country, Germans, who could eat an Italian army at a meal, whom I would fain engage, and their leaders want earnest-money—­the griping knaves!—­How are the Cardinal’s florins to be paid?”

“Half now—­half when thy troops are before Rimini!”

“Rimini! the thought whets my sword.  Rememberest thou how that accursed Malatesta drove me from Aversa, (This Malatesta, a signior of illustrious family, was one of the most skilful warriors in Italy.  He and his brother Galeotto had been raised to the joint-tyranny of Rimini by the voice of its citizens.  After being long the foes of the Church, they were ultimately named as its captains by the Cardinal Albornoz.) broke up my camp, and made me render to him all my booty?  There fell the work of years!  But for that, my banner now would be floating over St. Angelo.  I will pay back the debt with fire and sword, ere the summer has shed its leaves.”

The fair countenance of Montreal grew terrible as he uttered these words; his hands griped the handle of his sword, and his strong frame heaved visibly; tokens of the fierce and unsparing passions, by the aid of which a life of rapine and revenge had corrupted a nature originally full no less of the mercy than the courage of Provencal chivalry.

Such was the fearful man who now (the wildness of his youth sobered, and his ambition hardened and concentered) was the rival with Rienzi for the mastery of Rome.

Chapter 7.VIII.  The Crowd.—­The Trial.—­The Verdict.—­The Soldier and the Page.

It was on the following evening that a considerable crowd had gathered in the streets of Avignon.  It was the second day of the examination of Rienzi, and with every moment was expected the announcement of the verdict.  Amongst the foreigners of all countries assembled in that seat of the Papal splendour, the interest was intense.  The Italians, even of the highest rank, were in favour of the Tribune, the French against him.  As for the good townspeople of Avignon themselves, they felt but little excitement in any thing that did not bring money into their pockets; and if it had been put to the secret vote, no doubt there would have been a vast majority for burning the prisoner, as a marketable speculation!

Amongst the crowd was a tall man in a plain and rusty suit of armour, but with an air of knightly bearing, which somewhat belied the coarseness of his mail; he wore no helmet, but a small morion of black leather, with a long projecting shade, much used by wayfarers in the hot climates of the south.  A black patch covered nearly the whole of one cheek, and altogether he bore the appearance of a grim soldier, with whom war had dealt harshly, both in purse and person.