me a signet ring on which was graven the steer that is the emblem
of the House of Borgia.

He raised aloft the hand on which was glistening the sacred
amethyst--two fingers crooked and two erect. Wondering what this should
mean, I stared inquiry.

"Kneel," he bade me. And realising what he would be about, I sank on
to my knees whilst he murmured the Apostolic benediction over my bowed
head. The rushes of the floor were the only witnesses of the smile that
crept to my lips at this sudden assumption of his churchly office by
that most worldly prince.

CHAPTER II. THE LIVERIES OF SANTAFIOR

Such preparations as I had to make were soon complete.

Although it was agreed that I was to travel in the motley, yet, in my
lately-born shame of that apparel, I decided that I would conceal it as
best might be, revealing it only should the need arise. Moreover, it
was incumbent that I should afford myself more protection against the
inclement January night than that of my foliated cape, my crested cap
and silken hose. So, a black cloak, heavy and ample, a broad-brimmed
hat, and a pair of riding boots of untanned leather were my further
equipment. In the lining of one of those boots I concealed the Lord
Cesare's package; his money--some twenty ducats--I carried in a belt
about my waist, and his ring I set boldly on my finger.

Few moments did it need me to make ready, yet fewer, it seems, would
the Borgia impatience have had me employ; for scarce was I booted when
someone knocked at my door. I opened, and there entered a very mountain
of a man, whose corselet flashed back the yellow light of my tapers, as
might have done a mirror, and whose harsh voice barked out to ask if I
was ready.

I had had some former acquaintance with this fellow, having first met
him during the previous year, on the occasion of the Court of Pesaro's
sojourn at Rome. His name was Ramiro del' Orca, and throughout the Papal
army it stood synonymous for masterfulness and grim brutality. He was,
as I have said, an enormous man, of prodigious bodily strength, heavy,
yet of good proportions. Of his face one gathered the impression of a
blazing furnace. His cheeks and nose were of a vivid red, and still more
fiery was the hair, now hidden 'neath his morion, and the beard that
tapered to a dagger's point. His very eyes kept tune with the red
harmony of his ferocious countenance, for the whites were ever bloodshot
as a drunkard's--which, with no want of