"Had I been in Milan, Barbarossa himself would have burned in the midst of it," said Visconti, sweeping back the glass and silver before him. "The town had weeks to prepare." "Had you been there, Milan would not have burned at all, my lord!" said a flattering voice. "Maybe it would not. It was certainly before the Visconti's rule began," and he looked down the table with a smile at the dark face of Martin della Torre. "And now the plans, de Lana--Novara to Magenta, Magenta to Vercelli." He swept the glasses still further back, and spread the parchment de Lana handed him on the colored marble table. "Vercelli--we hold Vercelli, de Lana?" The officers moved up closer, leaning over the table. "We hold Vercelli--and Magenta." Visconti placed a silver goblet to keep the parchment down, and traced the route with the point of his dagger. "To Turin--to Cuneo--as near as we dare to the stiff-necked Genoese, and we have circled Piedmont." "And these same Genoese?" "Let them keep quiet," said Visconti, sheathing his dagger and leaning back, "and they may keep Genoa; we have larger game in view--the Empire. From the walls of Novara the Alps are to be seen, from the walls of Magenta they hide half the sky, from Turin one may touch them, and so we go closer----" "And hold the Empire in check," said de Lana, with excited eyes. "Ah, my lord, it was almost worth it----" Visconti turned to him sharply. "What do you say, de Lana?" There was a second's pause. This was the first, even vague, reference to what had happened earlier that same night; it seemed weeks since, and yet the sun had not risen on it. Visconti looked at de Lana and laughed. "Almost worth it--almost worth _what_, de Lana?" The soldier, recovering himself, returned his glance. "The extinction of four noble families, my lord." "Did my lord do it?" cried another. "Did he ask the d'Estes to burn Novara?" "No," smiled Visconti. "But had they not, I had done it for them, as I will burn Mantua, and the Gonzagas in it. We will have no seditious spots in the Lombardy _I_ rule. There will be one capital and one ruler," he added sternly. "The d'Estes knew enough to anticipate it." De Lana was silent. "And these prisoners, my lord?" asked da Ribera. "What of them?" "They choke the camp," said another. "They are partisans of Mastino della Scala, naturally," said Visconti. It was the first time the name had been mentioned, and Visconti's eyes flared to see that there was silence at it. "Mastino della Scala, I said--they favored him." "Yes, my lord; him, or the Estes." "You will put them to the sword." "All?" "All!" shouted Visconti, half rising. "I will have no rebellious slaves to groan over Della Scala's grave, and hatch me plots from the ashes of their bones--we will raze the cities to the ground, and put them to the sword. My triumph will need no prisoners to prove it--and see it done, de Lana." They quailed; their attitude acknowledged him the master.