Visconti understood the art of bribery, and knew whom to bribe. Carrara, only waiting in the hope of it, had caught eagerly at the bait, and by the returning messenger had agreed to join Visconti and leave Della Scala shorn of more than half his forces. And Mastino, by his absence, had made it child's play. As Carrara returned now to his own tent, thinking and scheming, a captain of mercenaries galloped up.
"The prisoners, my lord, captured by some of Count von Schulembourg's men, in the scuffle outside Milan yesterday, are being brought into the camp--is it to you or to him we bring them?"
"Take them to the castle," he said at last. "I myself will see them presently."
He glanced over his shoulder at Count Conrad's tent. The embroidered entrance was closed, the black and yellow eagles fluttered idly over it--there was no sign of the young German.
"Are those the prisoners?" he asked, pointing to a little group of soldiers guarding a few men.
"Yes, my lord. We had almost forced the gates--when a band rushed out and there was a desperate struggle; we were driven back, and these fellows, in the heat of victory, followed too far. Then we turned and had them, and brought them in for ransom. They seemed worth it."
"I will go and view them," said Carrara suddenly, and he cantered his horse toward the little group.
The noise of the prisoners' arrival was spreading, still there was no sign of Count Conrad, and again the treacherous Carrara smiled. But in a moment more the smile had faded. He noticed among the prisoners a face he surely knew.
Prudence was Giacomo Carrara's ruling quality, and helped him now to keep his wits.
"That fellow yonder," he said, pointing, "he with the red hair--who is he? Has he told his quality?"
"'Twas he who led the chase," was the answer, "screaming like a madman. He is the squire of some nobleman, and gave out he thought we had his master captive."
"I know something of him, unless I much mistake; a dangerous rogue and spy--place him apart, well guarded--in a separate compartment. Pinion him. To-night we will put him to the question."
And again he glanced toward the German's tent. Conrad had not appeared, and the prisoners wound away out of sight into what was once Barnabas Visconti's summer residence, and where Barnabas Visconti not long since had died.