His father before him was poisoned by his best friend, and
as for the last who legitimately bore that title--why, none can say that
the poor lad was fortunate."
"The last who legitimately bore that title?" cried Cosimo, very ruffled.
"I think, sir, it is your aim to affront me."
"And what is more," continued the condottiero, as if Cosimo had not spoken,
"not only are the lords of Mondolfo unlucky in themselves, but they are a
source of ill luck to those they serve. Giovanni's father had but taken
service with Cesare Borgia when the latter's ruin came at the hands of Pope
Julius II. What Giovanni's own friendship cost his friends none knows
better than your highness. So that, when all is said, I think you had
better look about you for another condottiero, magnificent."
The magnificent stood gnawing his beard and brooding darkly, for he was a
grossly superstitious fellow who studied omens and dabbled in horoscopes,
divinations, and the like. And he was struck by the thing that Galeotto
said. He looked at Cosimo darkly. But Cosimo laughed.
"Who believes such old wives' tales? Not I, for one."
"The more fool you!" snapped the Duke.
"Indeed, indeed," Galeotto applauded. "A disbelief in omens can but spring
from an ignorance of such matters. You should study them, Messer Cosimo.
Pages:
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397