Adrian had gained the open hall below—­his train and his steed were in sight in the court—­when suddenly the soldiery of the Colonna, rushing through another passage than that which he had passed, surrounded and intercepted his retreat.

“Yield thee, Adrian di Castello,” cried Stefanello from the summit of the stairs; “or your blood be on your own head.”

Three steps did Adrian make through the press, and three of his enemies fell beneath his sword.  “To the rescue!” he shouted to his band, and already those bold and daring troopers had gained the hall.  Presently the alarum bell tolled loud—­the court swarmed with soldiers.  Oppressed by numbers, beat down rather than subdued, Adrian’s little train was soon secured, and the flower of the Colonna, wounded, breathless, disarmed, but still uttering loud defiance, was a prisoner in the fortress of his kinsman.

Chapter 9.IV.  The Position of the Senator.—­The Work of Years.—­The Rewards of Ambition.

The indignation of Rienzi may readily be conceived, on the return of his herald mutilated and dishonoured.  His temper, so naturally stern, was rendered yet more hard by the remembrance of his wrongs and trials; and the result which attended his overtures of conciliation to Stefanello Colonna stung him to the soul.

The bell of the Capitol tolled to arms within ten minutes after the return of the herald.  The great gonfalon of Rome was unfurled on the highest tower; and the very evening after Adrian’s arrest, the forces of the Senator, headed by Rienzi in person, were on the road to Palestrina.  The troopers of the Barons had, however, made incursions as far as Tivoli with the supposed connivance of the inhabitants, and Rienzi halted at that beautiful spot to raise recruits, and receive the allegiance of the suspected, while his soldiers, with Arimbaldo and Brettone at their head, went in search of the marauders.  The brothers of Montreal returned late at night with the intelligence, that the troopers of the Barons had secured themselves amidst the recesses of the wood of Pantano.

The red spot mounted to Rienzi’s brow.  He gazed hard at Brettone, who stated the news to him, and a natural suspicion shot across his mind.

“How!—­escaped!” he said.  “Is it possible?  Enough of such idle skirmishes with these lordly robbers.  Will the hour ever come when I shall meet them hand to hand?  Brettone,” and the brother of Montreal felt the dark eye of Rienzi pierce to his very heart; “Brettone!” said he, with an abrupt change of voice, “are your men to be trusted?  Is there no connivance with the Barons?”

“How!” said Brettone, sullenly, but somewhat confused.

“How me no hows!” quoth the Tribune-Senator, fiercely.  “I know that thou art a valiant Captain of valiant men.  Thou and thy brother Arimbaldo have served me well, and I have rewarded ye well!  Have I not?  Speak!”