Over a narrow drawbridge they entered the rocca, which was the heart of that great Guelphic fortress, and from a small courtyard they ascended by a winding staircase of stone to a stone chamber whose grey walls were bare of arras, whose Gothic windows were unglazed, and whose vaulted ceiling hung so low that the tall muleteer could have touched it with his raised hand. A monkish table of solid oak, an oaken bench, and a high-backed chair were all its furniture, and a cushion of crimson velvet the only sybaritic touch in that chill austerity. Leaving him there, the young officer passed through a narrow door to a farther room. Thence came presently a swarthy man who was squat and bowlegged with thick, pouting lips and an air of great consequence. He was wrapped in a crimson gown that trailed along the stone floor and attended by a black-robed monk and a tall lean man in a soldier's leathern tunic with sword and dagger hanging from a rich belt. The squat man's keen, haughty eyes played searchingly over the muleteer. 'I am to suppose you have a message for me,' he said, and sat down in the only chair. The monk, who was stout and elderly, found a place on the bench, leaning his elbows on the table. The captain stationed himself behind Vignate, whilst the officer who had brought Messer Beppo lingered in the background by the wall. The tall young muleteer lounged forward, no whit abashed in the presence of the dread Lord of Lodi. 'His excellency the Cardinal of Desana desires you to understand, my lord, that this mule-train of victuals is the last one he will send.' 'What?' Vignate clutched the arms of his chair and half raised himself from his seat. His countenance lost much of its chill dignity. 'It isn't that it's no longer safe; but it's no longer possible. Lorenzaccio, who has had charge of these expeditions, is a prisoner in the hands of Facino. He was caught yesterday morning, on his way back from Alessandria. As likely as not he'll have been hanged by now. But that's no matter. What is important is that they've found us out, and the cordon is now so tightly drawn that it's madness to try to get through.' 'Yet you,' said the tall captain, 'have got through.' 'By a stratagem that's not to be repeated. I took a chance. I stampeded a dozen mules into Facino's lines near Aulara. At the alarm there was a rush for the spot. It drew, as I had reckoned, the men on guard between Aulara and Casalbagliano, leaving a gap. In the dark I drove through that gap before it was repaired.' 'That was shrewd,' said the captain. 'It was necessary,' said Beppo shortly. 'Necessary not only to bring in these provisions, but to warn you that there are no more to follow.' Vignate's eyes looked out of a face that had turned grey. The man's bold manner and crisp speech intrigued him. 'Who are you?' he asked. 'You are no muleteer.'