“We must,” I answered fiercely, and ran madly from the room, along the gallery and down the stairs, shouting and raging like a maniac, Cavalcanti following me. Within ten minutes, Galeotto's three score men and another score of those who garrisoned Pagliano for Cavalcanti were in the saddle and galloping hell-for-leather to Piacenza. Ahead on fresh horses went Falcone and I, the Lord of Pagliano spurring beside me and pestering me with questions as to the source of my knowledge. Our great fear was lest we should find the gates of Piacenza closed on our arrival. But we covered the ten miles in something under an hour, and the head of our little column was already through the Fodesta Gate when the first hour of night rang out from the Duomo, giving the signal for the closing of the gates. The officer in charge turned out to view so numerous a company, and challenged us to stand. But I flung him the answer that we were the Black Bands of Ser Galeotto and that we rode by order of the Duke, with which perforce he had to be content; for we did not stay for more and were too numerous to be detained by such meagre force as he commanded. Up the dark street we swept--the same street down which I had last ridden on that night when Gambara had opened the gates of the prison for me--and so we came to the square and to Cosimo's palace. All was in darkness, and the great doors were closed. A strange appearance this for a house to which a bride had so newly come. I dismounted as lightly as if I had not ridden lately more than just the ten miles from Pagliano. Indeed, I had become unconscious of all fatigue, entirely oblivious of the fact that for three nights now I had not slept--save for the three hours at Bologna. I knocked briskly on the iron-studded gates. We stood there waiting, Cavalcanti and Falcone afoot with me, the men on horseback still, a silent phalanx. I issued an order to Falcone. “Ten of them to secure our egress, the rest to remain here and allow none to leave the house.” The equerry stepped back to convey the command in his turn to the men, and the ten he summoned slipped instantly from their saddles and ranged themselves in the shadow of the wall. I knocked again, more imperatively, and at last the postern in the door was opened by an elderly serving-man. “What's this?” he asked, and thrust a lanthorn into my face. “We seek Messer Cosimo d'Anguissola,” I answered. He looked beyond me at the troop that lined the street, and his face became troubled. “Why, what is amiss?” quoth he. “Fool, I shall tell that to your master. Conduct me to him. The matter presses.” “Nay, then--but have you not heard? My lord was wed to-day. You would not have my lord disturbed at such a time?” He seemed to leer. I put my foot into his stomach, and bore him backward, flinging him full length upon the ground. He went over and rolled away into a corner, where he lay bellowing.