"You caught a glimpse of whom?" quoth I.

"Why, of the Borgia soldiers."

"Animal," I answered him, "what have we to do with them? They may have
mistaken us for some party of which they are in pursuit. But since we are
not that party, let your jaded beasts travel at a more reasonable speed.
We do not wish to have the air of fugitives."

He understood me, and I was obeyed. For a half-hour we rode at a more
gentle pace. That was about the time they took to come up with us, still
a league or so from Fabriano. We heard their cantering hoofs crushing the
snow, and then a loud imperious voice shouting to us a command to stay.
Instantly we brought up in unconcerned obedience, and they thundered
alongside with cries of triumph at having run their prey to earth.

I cast aside my hat, and thrust my motleyed head through the curtains with
a jangle of bells, to inquire into the reason of this halt. Whom my
appearance astounded the more--whether the lacqueys of Santafior, or the
Borgia men-at-arms that now encircled us--I cannot guess. But in the
crowd of faces that confronted me there was not one but wore a look of
deep amazement.




CHAPTER IV

THE COZENING OF RAMIRO