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Page 84
"It was such a thing as bothered me in Florence," said Sir Walter.
"I'd seen it before somewhere, but where I know not--a bull's
head of gold on a red field."
Signor Mannetti started and laughed.
"Ha-ha! We will come to the golden bull presently, Sir Walter.
You shall meet him, I promise you!"
Then he broke off and patted his forehead.
"But I go too quickly--far too quickly indeed. I must rest my poor
brain now, or it will rattle in my head like a dry walnut. When
it begins to rattle, I know that I have done enough for the present.
May I walk in the garden again--not alone, but with your
companionship?"
"Of course, unless you would like to retire and rest for a while."
"Presently I shall do so. And please permit nobody to enter the
Grey Room but myself. Not a soul must go or come without me."
Sir Walter spoke.
"You still believe the peril is material then--an active, physical
thing, controlled by a conscious human intelligence?"
"If I am right, it certainly is active enough."
They went into the garden, and Signor Mannetti, finding a snug seat
in the sun, decided to stop there. Henry and his uncle exchanged
glances, and the latter found his faith weakening, for the Italian's
mind appeared to wander. He became more and more irrelevant, as it
seemed. He spoke again of the old dog who was at his master's feet.
"Euthanasia for the aged. Why not? For that matter, I have
considered it for myself in dark moments. Have you ever wondered
why we destroy our pets, for love of them, yet suffer our fellow
creatures to exist and endure to the very dregs Nature's most
fiendish methods of dissolution? Again one of those terrible
problems where mercy and religion cannot see eye to eye."
They uttered appropriate sentiments, and again the old man changed
the subject and broke new ground.
"There was a prince--not your old dog--but a royal lad of the
East--Prince Djem, the brother of the Sultan Bajazet. Do you know
that story? Possibly not--it is unimportant enough, and to this
day the sequel of the incident is buried in a mystery as profound
as that of the Grey Room. Our later historians whitewash
Alexander VI. concerning the matter of Prince Djem; but then it is
so much the habit of later historians to whitewash everybody. A
noble quality in human nature perhaps--to try and see the best,
even while one can only do so by ignoring the worst. Certainly,
as your poet says, 'Distance makes the heart grow fonder'; or, at
any rate, softer. There is a tendency to side with the angels
where we are dealing with historic dead. Nero, Caligula, Calvin,
Alva, Napoleon, Torquemada--all these monsters and portents, and
a thousand such blood-bespattered figures are growing whiter as
they grow fainter. They will have wings and haloes presently. Yet
not for me. I am a good hater, my friends. But Prince Djem--I
wander so. You should be more severe with me and keep me to my
point. Sultan Bajazet wanted his younger brother out of the way,
and he paid the Papacy forty thousand ducats a year to keep the
young fellow a prisoner in Italy. It was a gilded captivty and
doubtless the dissolute Oriental enjoyed himself quite as well at
Rome as he would have done in Constantinople. But after Alexander
had achieved the triple tiara, Bajazet refused to pay his forty
thousand ducats any longer. The Pope, therefore, wrote strongly
to the Sultan, telling him that the King of France designed to
seize Prince Djem and go to war on his account against the Turks.
This does not weary you?"
"No, indeed," declared Mary.
"Alexander added, that to enable him to resist the French and spare
Bajazet's realms the threatened invasion, a sum of forty thousand
ducats must be immediately forthcoming. The Sultan, doubtless
appalled by such a threat, despatched the money with a private
letter. He was as great a diplomat as the Pope himself, and saw
a way to evade this gigantic annual impost by compounding on the
death of Djem. Unfortunately for him, however, both the papal envoy
and Bajazet's own messenger were captured upon their return journey
by the brother of Cardinal della Rovere--Alexander's bitterest
enemy. Thus the contents of the secret letter became known, and
the Christian world heard with horror how Bajazet had offered the
occupant of St. Peter's throne three hundred thousand ducats to
assassinate Prince Djem!
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