He looked round at his companions as if inviting them to bear out his words, and they were not slow to confirm what he had sworn, in terms as vehement as his own, until in the end the new-comer waved them into silence.
“Nor have I breathed it,” he assured them, “for I respected your injunction, Messer Fabrizio. Still--what did Masuccio there, hidden like a thief, by the roadside? Sirs,” he continued, in a slightly altered tone, “I know not to what end you have bidden me hither, but if aught of treason lurks in your designs, I cry you beware! The Duke has knowledge of it, or at least, suspicion. If that spy was not set to watch for me, why, then, he was set to watch for all, that he may anon inform his master what men were present at this meeting.”
Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders in a contemptuous indifference which was voiced by his neighbour Ferrabraccio.
“Let him be informed,” sneered the latter, a grim smile upon his rugged face. “The knowledge will come to him too late.”
The new-comer threw back his head, and a look that was half wonder, half enlightenment gleamed in the black depths of his imperious eyes. He took a deep breath.
“It would seem, sirs, that I was right,” said he, with a touch of sternness, “and that treason is indeed your business.”
“My Lord of Aquila,” Fabrizio answered him, “we are traitors to a man that we may remain faithful and loyal to a State.”
“What State?” barked the Lord of Aquila contemptuously.
“The Duchy of Babbiano,” came the answer.
“You would be false to the Duke that you may be faithful to the Duchy?” he questioned, scorn running ever stronger in his voice. “Sirs, it is a riddle I'll not pretend to solve.”
There fell a pause in which they eyed one another, and their glances were almost as the glances of baffled men. They had not looked for such a tone from him, and they questioned with their eyes and minds the wisdom of going further. At last, with a half-sigh, Fabrizio da Lodi turned once more to Aquila.
“Lord Count,” he began, in a calm, impressive voice, “I am an old man; the name I bear and the family from which I spring are honourable alike. You cannot think so vilely of me as to opine that in my old age I should do aught to smirch the fair fame of the one or of the other. To be named a traitor, sir, is to be given a harsh title, and one, I think, that could fit no man less than it fits me or any of these my companions. Will you do me the honour, then, to hear me out, Excellency; and when you have heard me, judge us. Nay, more than judgment we ask of you, Lord Count. We ask for guidance that we may save our country from the ruin that threatens it, and we promise you that we will take no step that has not your sanction--that is not urged by you.”