The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1900-03-02
CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVI.
CONCERNING MANY THINGS.
One short and desperate attempt was
made to rescue him. About dozen horse
men charged right at us, and for moment
it appeared as if they would succeed. But
we were too strong, and although they in
Aicted severe loss on us, killing Bande Mere
amongst others, they were cut down, all
but one, who led them. This man, seeing all
was lost, and determined not to be taken
himself, galloped to the quay, and striking
bis spurs home, leaped his horse far into the
river, and made for the vessel. The stream
was running fast and strong, but the good
beast, despite his burden, struggled bravely
against the flood. To relieve the horse, the
cavalier, having torn off his morton, slipped
from the saddle, and with his hand on the
pommel, attempted manfully to swim be-
side the animal. The weight of his culrass,
however, bore him down. Twice his head
sank below the water, twice he rose again
and battled with the flood. Those on the
ship made no effort to save him, and we on
shore could do nothing. He had now, fight
ing every inch of his way, drifted astern of
the vessel, and some one flung a rope at him.
His hand reached out to clasp it, but missed,
horse and dragged them down. He rose yet
once again, his white despairing face
turned towards us, and with supreme eff
fort of hate, shook his clenched hand at me,
and was gone.
So died Crepin D Entrangues, the death of
. brave man, unyielding and fighting to the
Last. The yellow Tiber Kissed in white foam
over the spot where he sank. Perchance
the mad currents dragged his body down to
the slime of the river-bed, picked it up again
in their swirl, tossed it in sport from one to
another, and finally flung it to rot on some
lonely bank, where the gulls screamed above
it, and the foxes of the Maremma gnawed
at the rusty armor, and snapped and
snarled over the white bones in the moon
light.
Everyone knows the history Of the times,
land it is not my intention to dilate on this,
but merely to set down, without comment,
those matters of state in which Fortune al
lowed me to play part. When Cesare sur
rendered at Ostia the Borgia were broken
for ever, and Valentinois allowed, after a
short confinement, to escape to Spain, where
he died like a soldier. Now that the game
was in their hands, the allies began to quar-
rel amongst themselves, the French king to
drivel away his opportunities in gayety, and
the Eenctians to step in, in their Most Sc
rene way, and claim a share of the spolls for
the Lion of st. Mark. Events moved quick
", the genius of the Great Captain won vic
tory after victory for Spain, the death Of
Francis Piccolomini paved the way for the
accession of Rouvere to the papacy as Julius
H., and the Holy League was formed, by
means of which the French were finally
driven from Italy. Thus, in a few years, the
work of D'Amboise was scattered to the
winds, but long before that time I had
sheathed my sword, and concerned myself
no more with war.
But on the day that surrendered my
prisoner TO DAmboise and Orsini, the for
mer already in thought sat in St. Peters
chair, and the latter, at the very least, i'm
agined himself the Lord of the Romagna.
cent forward couriers, with the news of my
success, 10 the cardinal, and ere we reached
Malafede met with a return messenger from
D'Amboise, bearing a brief note of con-
graduation, and adding that Colonna had
made terms to evacuate the portions of the
city he held. The messenger informed me
that the Bailly of Caen had already entered
Rome by the Porta Pia, and that, finding
himself between two fires, old Fabrizi Colon.
ma had made a virtue of necessity, and by
yielding now reserved himself for another
day. This enabled me to go back by an
easier route than we had come, and as we
rode through the Ostian gate, could not
help contrasting my present entry to the
day when Jacopo and had refined in our
weary steeds to let the Borgia pass, and give
his following the road. At the Ponte S
Angelo, surrendered my prisoner to Orsin
in person, and truly thought he would have
but few hours more to live, for GentiP Vir
ginio had long score to settle with the
Borgia, and a longer memory for a wrong
The blood, too, of Paolo, whom Cesare
strangled at Sinigaglia, and that of the Car
dinal Orsini, whom he brutally murdered in
Rome, called aloud for vengeance. Cesart
himself seemed to be aware of this, fol-
whereas up to now he had remained in 9
sullen silence, he found tongue to implars
me, in the most servile manner, not to de
liver him 70 Orsini, and when told him
bad no option, he tried to creep out Of hi
litter, and lay his cap at the feet of hi
enemy. Orsini spoke nothing, merely or
asrin9 hun 70 be borne t. s. Angelo; bu,