own wall; and the
diamond buttons in his green velvet doublet sparkled merrily in the
sunshine.

At that sight a great silence swept across the multitude, and availing
himself of this, Galeotto again addressed those Piacentini.

"To your homes," he cried to them, "and arm yourselves to defend the
State from your enemies if the need should arise. There hangs the
Duke--dead. He has been slain to liberate our country from unjust
oppression."

Still, it seemed, they did not hear him; for though to us they appeared
to be almost silent, yet there was a rustle and stir amongst them, which
must have deafened each to what was being announced.

They renewed their cries of "Duca!" of "Spaniards!" and "To arms!"

"A curse on your 'Spaniards!'" cried Malvicini. "Here! Take your Duke.
Look at him, and understand." And he slashed the rope across, so that
the body plunged down into the castle ditch.

A few of the foremost of the crowd ran forward and scrambled down into
the ditch to view the body, and from them the rumour of the truth ran
like a ripple over water through that mob, so that in the twinkling of
an eye there was no man in that vast concourse--and all Piacenza seemed
by now to be packed into the square--but knew that Pier Luigi Farnese
was dead.

A sudden hush fell. There were no more cries of "Duca!" They stood
silent, and not a doubt but that in the breasts of the majority surged
a great relief. Even the militia ceased to advance. If the Duke was dead
there was nothing left to do.

Again Galeotto spoke to them, and this time his words were caught by
those in the ditch immediately below us, and from them they were passed
on, and suddenly a great cry went up--a shout of relief, a paean of joy.
If Farnese was dead, and well dead, they could, at last, express the
thing that was in their hearts.

And now at the far end of the square a glint of armour appeared; a troop
of horse emerged, and began slowly to press forward through the crowd,
driving it back on either side, but very gently. They came three
abreast, and there were six score of them, and from their lance-heads
fluttered bannerols showing a sable bar on an argent field. They were
Galeotto's free company, headed by one of his lieutenants. Beyond the Po
they too had been awaiting the salvo of artillery that should be their
signal to advance.

When their identity was understood, and when the crowd had perceived
that they rode to support the holders of the ca