The Shame of Motley: being the memoir of certain transactions in the life of Lazzaro Biancomonte, of Biancomonte, sometime fool of the court of PesaroSabatini, Rafael
History
The Shame of Motley: being the memoir of certain transactions in the life of Lazzaro Biancomonte, of Biancomonte, sometime fool of the court of Pesaro
He fell to praising my valour, to speaking of the great service I had
rendered him, and of the gratitude that he would ever entertain for me,
all in terms of a fawning, cloying sweetness that disgusted me more
than ever his cruelties had done. I took off my helmet whilst he spoke,
and let it fall with a crash. The face I revealed to him was livid with
fatigue, and blackened with the dust that had caked upon my sweat. He
came forward again and helped hastily to strip off my harness, and when
that was done he fetched a great silver basin and a ewer of embossed
gold from which he poured me fragrant rose-water that I might wash.
Macerated sweet herbs he found me, lupin meal and glasswort, the better
that I might cleanse myself; and when, at last, I was refreshed by my
ablutions, he poured me a goblet of a full-bodied golden wine that
seemed to infuse fresh life into my veins. And all the time he spoke of
the prowess I had shown, and lamented that all these years he should
have had me at his Court and never guessed my worth.
At length I turned to resume my clothes. And since it must excite
comment and perhaps arouse suspicion were I to appear in any but my
jester’s garish livery, I once more assumed my foliated cape, my cap
and bells.
“Wear it yet for a little while,” he said, “and thus complete the
service you have done me. Presently you may doff it for all time, and
resume your true estate. Biancomonte, as I promised you, shall be yours
again. The Lord of Pesaro does not betray his word.”
I smiled grimly at the pride of his utterance.
“It is an easy thing,” said I, “freely to give that which is no longer
ours.”
He coloured with the anger that was ever ready.
“What shall that mean?” he asked.
“Why, that in a few days you will have Cesare Borgia here, and you will
be Lord of Pesaro no more. I have saved your honour for you. More than
that it were idle to attempt.”
“Think not that I shall submit,” he cried. “I shall find in Italy the
help I need to return and drive the usurper out. You must have faith in
that, yourself, else had you never bargained with me as you have done
for the return of your Estates.”
To that I answered nothing, but urged him to go below and show himself;
and the better that he might bear himself among his courtiers, I
detailed to him the most salient features of that fight.
He went, not without a certain uneasiness which, however, was soon
dispelled by the thunder of acclamation with which he was received; not
only by his courtiers, but by the soldiers who had fought in that hot
skirmish, and who believed that it was he had led them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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