"Quick with thy news then--stand back, De Lana, I must hear this rogue." Giannotto drew closer. "My lord, at noon to-day, Rinalta, the Tuscan captain, rode in. While Roccia was engaging you, some mercenaries forced one of the gates, and before they could be driven back, a house was broken into, some prisoners made----" The Duke fixed his widening eyes upon the speaker, and Giannotto shrank. "What gate?" he asked. "What house? What prisoners?" "The western gate, lord, and Agnolo Vistarnini's house!" With a sound of fury Visconti struck at his secretary violently, with the ends of his bridle. "And I was not told before!" "It was held too small a fray, lord," said the secretary. "Could I tell my Lady Valentine one gate was more to you than another? I besought her to send to you--I besought them all--could I tell them why?" Even as he spoke De Lana rode up resolutely. "More men are needed at the western gate," he said; "the Germans have returned. I will lead them." "No!" cried Visconti; "I, De Lana." The soldier looked surprised. "You, lord? There is no need----" "It is my will," Visconti answered fiercely. "At once, to the western gate!" At his cry the soldiers flung themselves again into the saddle, and those who still sat their horses gathered up their reins. "Your helmet, lord," cried the startled squire; but Visconti swept him aside and rushed bareheaded forward, De Lana and his troop of horsemen after him in a wild riot of sound and light. Giannotto stood bewildered in the doorway; nothing left of the wild tumult that had filled the spaces save echoing shouts and tramping hoofs. "Visconti is mad," he thought. "He has ridden off almost unarmed! Now--I wonder what may happen before he return from the western gate--the night is dark and--dangerous." And with a thoughtful glance up at the cloudy sky, Giannotto slowly withdrew. CHAPTER FIFTEEN A PRISONER FROM MILAN Mastino Della Scala was proving himself. He had come to within fifteen miles of Milan. Verona was his again; that was in itself enough to justify his allies' confidence. Of them Julia Gonzaga's force and Ippolito d'Este's army lay at Brescia, ready at any moment to advance. Della Scala's position lay nearer Milan, and by far the larger half of his support was Carrara, Duke of Padua's contingent, led by the Duke in person. Between the two forces, a quarter of a mile outside Della Scala's camp, was the castle of Brescia, at one time an occasional residence of Barnabas, Visconti's father, and now a gloomy fortress, with an evil reputation; for Barnabas, driven from Milan by his son, had died there--with his wife--of fever it was said. In a gorgeous tent in the midst of Della Scala's camp sat Conrad von Schulembourg and the younger d'Este.