I am home from the University of Virginia, having completed the law course. The restful peace of the old farmhouse is most enjoyable; but there is another blemish upon the landscape; my father is building a second tobacco barn, and the foreman in charge, a union carpenter, or nine-hour man, as we then called him, is a disturbing element, spending his time, when not at work, chewing tobacco and aggressively talking about the rights of labor and the danger to the world of concentrated wealth.

When thus engaged he is a typical nail-keg philosopher; just emerging from ignorance and materialism into the realm of reflective experience.

He has at his tongue’s end all the platitudes of the socialist and possesses the knack of picking platitude and imperfect statistic to fit his theories, whenever he finds a victim.

He does not look upon our government as a government of the people; but a government of the few, who fool all the people all the time.

He is a firm believer in organized labor and the disorganization of everything else, particularly capital. He believes in the equal distribution of property every few years and that the masses should throw off the yoke, but can neither identify nor define the yoke.

Until I heard him talk, in my inexperience, I thought that the world was a reasonably comfortable place in which to live, in fact, I knew no better. We were getting ten cents for tobacco, eighty cents for wheat, fifty cents for corn, five cents for hogs and ten cents a pound for turkeys. We heard no talk of hard times except just before a presidential election.

We paid fifteen dollars per month for farm hands, three dollars a week to the cook; we bought sugar for six cents and flour for five fifty a barrel. We were paying the boss carpenter and chief representative of organized labor three dollars a day, and fifteen dollars per thousand for clear heart yellow pine lumber.

Hawkwood, the carpenter, spoke of the ideals of labor and how he would fight for them through this and other lives until his words, to my conservative and immature mind, seemed threats against organized society.

My views, in the main, he called old-fashioned. I believed a laborer who was thrifty, efficient and industrious did not need a union to help him, arguing the union only helped the inefficient, lazy and profligate.

I tried several times to get him to rest on the springhouse slab or dream couch, but his mind and temperament were too nervously active.

On Sunday he expected to go to Lexington for the day, but at train time a heavy shower caused him to abandon the trip. I asked him to go to Pine Grove church, but he very emphatically declined.

At dinner, with malice aforethought, I kept his plate heaped up and repeatedly filled his goblet with ice-cooled buttermilk. After dinner as it was a very warm day, I suggested we go to the springhouse and read, and from the library got for him Fox’s “Lives of The Martyrs.”

I took the lead and appropriated the rustic chair under the elms, forcing him to occupy the stone bench in the springhouse.

He made several efforts to start an argument on the labor question, which I carefully avoided. After awhile a sonorous snore announced that he had fallen victim to my plot.

His snoring was broken by a jumble of words in English and Italian, though his English, being of a very old form, was harder than the Italian to understand and transcribe. The first words I caught were; “Very well, Sir John, avanti!”

I took down his statement and give to the reader a liberal transcription of my notes.

“I was born in Essex, near Hedingham, on October 20, 1332. My father was a younger brother of Sir John Hawkwood, who was knighted for bravery by the Black Prince two days after the battle of Poitiers, where an English army of eight thousand men defeated a French army of sixty thousand and took King John prisoner.

“My uncle, commanding several companies and rendering most efficient service, was rewarded by being knighted by the King. I was present at the service and officiated as his squire.

“When the successful army returned to England, several hundred of us from Essex and Suffolk remained in France and organized ’The White Company,’ which, with Sir John as commander, became famous as condottieri, or soldiers of fortune, and from 1360 to 1390 sold our services to various Italian powers.

“We served under the standard of Gregory XI, the Marquis of Montferrat, certain legates, the republic of Pisa, and, finally, the signory and council of Florence, from 1378 until the death of Sir John on March 17, 1394. At his death he was entombed with great ceremony in the Duomo. For years prior he had held the office of Captain General with the Florentines.

“From 1374 till 1378 I was captain of one of his companies. In 1378 I was made his aid, in which capacity I served until 1389, when, having been seriously wounded and the possessor of considerable wealth, I retired from service.

“For more than a year Sir John had been in the service of the Marquis of Montferrat at Casale, and as the season was dull and the pay light for our business, it was with pleasure he received word from the Pope to come to Avignon.

“Gregory occupied the papal chair from 1370 to 1378 and, like his immediate predecessors, resided at Avignon until 1376, when he terminated the Babylonian captivity by returning to Rome.

“During this period of exile the church government of Italy was conducted by proud and avaricious legates, who lived as dukes or provincial kings, and in the name of the church assumed to dictate the policy of government to many small potentates, maintaining a standing array of condottieri made up of English, Dutch and Breton recruits.

“Sir John, reasonably satisfied that he would be employed in Italy at some point east of Casale, left his soldiers behind, except thirty troopers, and set out for Avignon. Ten days later he came down the Rhone valley, into the ‘City of Bells,’ just as the sixth hour, or vesper bells, were ringing.

“We fed our horses, washed away the stains of travel, and, supper ready, took our places at a long table, Sir John at the head, I at the foot and fifteen troopers on either side. We refreshed ourselves, a very hungry and thirsty company, with red Rhone wine, macaroni, cheese, fish, mutton, brown bread and a salad.

“Sir John and I were assigned quite sumptuous quarters in the palace, while our soldiers remained at the inn.

“That night Sir John saw the Pope and was recommissioned in his service. His orders were that half of his company should report to the legate at Pisa, while I in command of the other half, about three hundred horsemen, should report to the legate at Bologna. An invasion of Tuscany was contemplated under the direction of these two legates, having in view the humiliation of the Florentines.

“The reason assigned for the campaign was that the Ricci faction had entered into a league with Barnabo of Milan against the church and the Albizzi party.

“The Pope thus expressed himself to Sir John; ’These plebeians are too ambitious. Let the nobility, not the populace, form a federation, living like brothers with the church at its head, an all-wise and benign father. Thus, by a combination of miter and helmet the church, first in Italy and then throughout the world, shall become not alone the spiritual but the temporal head of government. Instituting this plan, we intend to subdue the plebeian faction now in power at Florence.’

“Sir John, at the close of the audience, said to me; ’If it were not for the interference of the church, the republic of Florence and certain other Italian states might hope for the accomplishment of great things. What the Pope wants is the peace of decay and temporal and spiritual supremacy for the church throughout the land. Experience has taught me that adversity is a great teacher. It tolerates no compromises and rewards only patience and strength. Therefore a state is most fortunate that occupies a position of bare supremacy in arms, where it is punished for mistakes and grows strong from reverses.

“’On the other hand, if a government is too strong, the peace of strength brings repose, repose decay, and decay dishonor.

“’Florence, more than any other Italian city, is embarrassed by the natural enmities between the populace and the nobility. The nobility wish to command. The populace, aware of their numerical supremacy, are disinclined to obey, and insist upon ruling the city. Clashes between the two keep the city in a constant uproar and will eventually extinguish its greatness. The populace when in power drive the nobility from the city. When they lose out the banished nobles return and the populace are oppressed. Associated with the people, who are the usual conquerors, are certain adaptable nobles, who, styling themselves reformers, assume to live and think as the common people until they have acquired a sufficient following to control the city, then they assume the government and the nobles are recalled.’

“A member of the Connechi family was legate at Bologna. In the fall of 1374 I reported to him with my three hundred horsemen.

“The preceding summer had been extremely dry, causing a failure of crops through all of central Italy. The people suffered and many died of privation. The legate, aware of this, looked upon the time as auspicious for his invasion and instituted his campaign by seizing provisions in transit, purchased by the Florentines from the northern countries. The following spring he invaded Tuscany.

“The hungry inhabitants, seeing no hope for even the future harvest, offered but feeble opposition. Quite a few castles and small towns were taken and pillaged.

“Our army moved slowly, and despite the legate’s commands, never followed up a victory. It mattered little to us that his enemies lived to fight another day; our business was to line our pockets with plunder. It was no serious affair to defeat our opponents whenever we met. They were untrained in war and were usually officered by mercenaries, who cared little whether they won or lost.

“One night a messenger from Sir John Hawkwood brought word that I should confer with the captains of the Dutch and Breton troops, and if they agreed, we were to mutiny and desert the legate’s standard, when I should proceed with my men to Florence, where he would await us.

“At the conference I learned from the other captains that their commanders had made peace with the Florentines, having been paid one hundred and thirty thousand florins; and that Sir John, having quarreled with the legate at Pisa about our pay had referred the matter to the Pope, who responded; ’The affair is wholly within the discretion of the legate.’ Whereupon he sent back word; ’Henceforth I am an opponent of temporal church rule in Italy and quit your service.’ He then made a contract with the Florentines to assist them in repelling the legate’s armies.

“On the next day, when the condottieri were ordered to attack a small town southwest of our camp, the inhabitants of which had treated us decently, knowing that we bore them no ill-will, we disregarded the order. By prearrangement, each captain at the head of his men assembled in front of the legate’s quarters, when as spokesman I asked an audience.

“In a short while he came forth in his regalia, surrounded by a group of carpet knights and peremptorily demanded:

“’What do you want and why have not you and your comrades begun the assault as ordered?’

“’As spokesman for the English, Dutch and Breton condottieri, I am directed to inform you that we have concluded to sever our connection with your army and seek more satisfactory employment. Our sympathies are with the Florentines rather than the church.’

“‘Those of you who refuse to execute my commands shall be put to death.’

“’Who will execute your order? Surely not your three thousand carpet knights, who can scarcely sit their horses and are coached by their squires. They know nothing of warfare; they but wear their swords as ornaments. Why, my three hundred horsemen alone are more than a match for your knights. They and you do your fighting by proxy. It takes something more than a jeweled sword, bright armor and a coat of arms to make a soldier, and something more than a miter, a string of beads and a colossal capacity for deception, torture and persecution, to make a commander whom men trust and obey.’

“‘So it is your intention to quit my service?’

“‘Yes, and immediately, we shall leave your camp today.’

“Whereupon I returned to my men. After a brief conference we raided the general stores and appropriated a week’s supplies; then, loading our pack horses, mounted and by easy stages rode to Florence.

“The legate, finding himself deserted by his mercenaries, his forces reduced to less than three thousand undisciplined troops, with no one competent to command, hastily retreated to Bologna and sought to make peace with the Florentines.

“But they, justly resentful of his avaricious and unprovoked invasion, refused to make peace, and until his death, nearly three years thereafter, having entered into a league with Barnabo of Milan and certain cities hostile to the church, conducted a successful war against him.

“Three days thereafter we crossed through the pass and camped on the south mountain slope within sight of Florence. The city from the foothills as you look out upon it seems an island forest of tall towers, surrounded by a verdant plain.

“A wall 9350 meters in length, protected by a deep moat, surrounds the city. Every one hundred and sixty meters there is a tower forty meters high and fourteen meters broad. The twelve gates, six on the left bank of the river and six on the right, are strengthened by barbicans.

“No other city presents such striking contrasts or combinations of antithèses, adding much to its picturesque life and appearance. Within arms length of each other you see the noble in his brilliant attire and the laborer in rags; the prelate gorgeously arrayed and the monk in sober gown; almost next door to a cathedral or monastery and which has taken a century to build, and beneath its very shadow, is the hovel of some poor beggar. It is a city of violence, where dominion is maintained by force; yet the pilgrim, with thoughts on God and atonement, may pass in peace. Some are given over to lives of the vilest licentiousness, while their neighbors lead lives of frugality and sanctity.

“We came in by the gate north of the church of San Lorenzo and I found quarters at an inn on Via Por. S. Marcia, near the Ponte Vecchio. I spent several months at this inn, reporting each day to Sir John for orders.

“Sir John was the guest of Silvestro de Medici, the head of one of the noblest of the popular families. In this way I became acquainted with Marcella, the sister of Silvestro, and after a courtship of several months we were married.

“My savings amounted to more than eight thousand florins. The florin is a small gold coin with a lily on one side and the word ‘Florentina’ on the other.

“For sixty-five hundred florins I purchased a small but substantial house on Via Calimara, near the Arte della Lana, the guildhouse of the wool weavers. The armorial design of the art, embossed above the portal, is a lamb bearing a cross.

“Two of my friends, who lived on a side street in the neighborhood, were Michael di Lando, a wool-comber who had considerable influence with his guild, and Ser Nuto, a bailiff of the Signory.

“I had been in Florence six months and married more than a month when Sir John disposed of our services to the eight commissioners of war; when, with great unwillingness, I was forced to leave wife and home and resume command of my three hundred horsemen.

“After having been thus engaged for more than four months, I procured a furlough, expecting to have ten days of quiet at home. It was the month of May and the city at its loveliest. On the third night after my return, my wife and I were eating a late lunch, after a visit to her brother’s palace, when the servant announced that a man was at the door with a message from Sir John, asking that I come at once to the inn of the Golden Hat on the Via de Bardi.

“Buckling on armor and sword, and telling the good wife not to wait up for me, I accompanied the messenger.

“When crossing the Ponte Vecchio in the darkness of its many butcher stalls, the messenger, walking behind, leaped upon my back, seeking to throw me to the floor. He was almost instantly aided by a half-dozen men wearing black robes and cowls covering the head, having eyeholes only; in other words, dressed as friars of the order of Misericordia. One of these struck me on the head with a heavy short sword, and when I regained consciousness I learned I was a prisoner in a dungeon under the cloisters of the monastery of Agnoli. My friend, Ser Nuto, had engineered the capture, which had been ordered by the Bologna legate for my gross insults to him and consequently to the church. My captors, who belonged to the Guelph faction, had cheerfully executed the commission because of my relationship by marriage with the Medici family.

“My dungeon was simply a cistern of huge stones beneath the floor of the cell of a friar of the order and the same size as his cell. The only aperture was in the floor of the cell above and closed by a heavy grating, the key to which, kept by the head of the order, was never entrusted to the friar, who was as powerless to open the grating as I.

“The walls of immense stone were made the more impervious by iron bars, which prevented contact with them, and made my prison an iron cage encased in a stone dungeon. Food was let down by a cord through the grating by a narrow copper bucket, and in the same manner each day the refuse of the cell was removed. The friar who occupied the cell above and who was my jailer was the only person I ever saw except when tortured.

“At the end of a week Ser Nuto came into the cell and, calling down through the grating, said; ’Climb up; you are to go before the holy tribunal.’ The grating was opened, a ladder let down and I climbed up and was led across the open court through a long hall into a large room, where twelve men, laymen and ecclesiastics, sat, the prelate acting as presiding officer. It must have been near midnight. I remember when I crossed the court how brilliantly the stars shone.

“When I came into the room, the prelate said; ’You are charged with the heinous sin of sacrilegious utterances against the holy church, which you will confess and for which you will be tortured even after confession. Your torturing, because of your insults to the church and its high officials, will be a compound of duty and pleasure to us. Until you confess your sins, express sorrow for same and consent to serve the church with loyal and unselfish devotion in whatever tasks shall be assigned you, one of which will be to assist Ser Nuto in decoying Sir John Hawkwood to this monastery you will be tortured the limit of your bodily endurance once a week.’

“From the four corners of the room near the ceiling and extending to the center, were suspended four ropes rigged with pulleys. My hands and feet were tied to these, when they were drawn tight and I was suspended in midair; then I was repeatedly hoisted back and forth from the floor to near the lofty ceiling until my joints were dislocated from the strain and I lost consciousness from pain, though I am glad to say, not once did I utter a cry, give forth a groan or ask mercy of my tormentors.

“When consciousness returned I was on the pallet in my cell and lay there for several days suffering as from severe sprains.

“My jailer was not unkind. His life I felt was not a happy one. He seemed to enjoy conversing with me, though he was forced to lie on the floor and call through the grating.

“This encouraged the hope that in sympathy or for reward I might persuade him to carry word to my wife of my place of imprisonment, when she, through the influence of Sir John or her brother, would be able to procure my release.

“I knew how she must suffer and search for traces of me, fearing I had been murdered and my body thrown into the river or buried in some secret place.

“That night the friar lay down upon the floor and called;

“‘Edward Hawkwood are you awake?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘Has the swelling and soreness left your joints?’

“‘Yes, I feel about well.’

“’In a day or two they will torture you again and continue doing so each week until you confess, express repentance and do what they ask. This I advise you to do, else in the end they will torture you to death, or leave you forgotten to die in your dungeon.’

“‘I at least have this to be thankful for that you are not unkind.’

“’If it were suspected that I treated you other than a caged beast your jailer would be changed and severely punished.’

“‘Discovery is impossible, since you only talk with me at night.’

“’I am not so sure; there are always spies in our brotherhood and all, from the scullion to the prelate, are under surveillance.’

“’I am sorry to learn that, as I hoped to prevail upon you to deliver a message to my wife, telling her where I am confined.’

“’Were I caught in the effort, I should be tortured to death, or confined indefinitely in a dungeon. Should your friends attempt your rescue or ask your release you would be murdered and dropped into come deep secret pit to destroy all evidence, when all would deny that you had been held a prisoner.’

“’My wife will give you a hundred florins if you will but give her a note telling my place of confinement. I have been but a few months married; she loves me dearly and is no doubt crazed by my disappearance.’

“’I wear this cowl and robe and beg as a mendicant on the street yet have always wished to be a soldier fighting to free Tuscany from tyranny; the tyranny not only of the oppressing noble families, chief of whom at this time are the Albizzi, but of the church with whom they are allied. I have suffered too much in mind from disappointment to care for the physical discomforts of others; and had you not been a soldier of renown, fighting against those influences which I condemn, I would have looked upon your imprisonment as incidental and your suffering without sympathy. I know how little I can do and that little at great personal risk, which, if discovered, will be not only your death warrant but my own. I will not carry a written message to your wife, but will stand near your home, pretending to solicit alms, and if she should pass, will tell her your message, but not disclose your place of imprisonment. She will know you are alive and have a friend who at rare intervals will give her news of you and bring back messages from her which you must give me to destroy. That is all that can be done. As my reward, you shall teach me to use the sword so when the opportunity is presented I may do my part as a patriot to rid Tuscany of her oppressors.’

“’You will at least hand this ring to my wife when you deliver my message and await her answer?’

“‘Yes, I will risk that much.’

“That night I slept in peace and had rapturous dreams of freedom.

“On the next day in the afternoon, when my wife left our home to go to her brother’s seeking news of me, she was addressed by a mendicant friar, who had even to touch her arm before she took notice, as she walked as a woman asleep mind lost in sorrow.

“’Do not start; pretend to give me alms and take this ring which your husband sends. He is alive and well but a prisoner. I am his friend and will take a written message to him. Should his friends seek to find his place of confinement he will be murdered. On each Tuesday at this hour, if you pass, I will bring you news of him. I must not be followed on his account.’

“‘Oh! Where is he.’

“’I have told you all I dare. Return home and write him a brief message for which I shall wait; fold it closely and hand me as though it were a small coin.’

“Turning away the friar solicited alms of a passing merchant.

“In a few minutes my wife returned and when he again asked alms she dropped in his hand two florins and between them a note for me.

“That night at a late hour the friar called through the grating and when I answered told me of the meeting and dropped the two florins into my hand, stating he would read the note to me, which he did.

“’You cannot know how much I have suffered believing you dead. I hope and live again since you sent the message and the ring.

“’What shall we do to find or rescue you? If you are not permitted to write send me a piece of your clothing so I may know the messenger comes from you.

“’Use every effort to come home to me as life is worthless with you away. I dare not write more. Can I send you anything?’

“‘Let me have the note so I may see my wife’s handwriting.’

“’I will if you return it so it may be destroyed; your cell may be searched.’

“He dropped it down, then let down a cord to which I tied the note after having read it many times and held it to my lips.

“The succeeding night Ser Nuto came to the cell and I was again brought before the holy tribunal, where an officer stood to take down my confession and a surgeon to feel my pulse and estimate the amount of torture I could bear.

“As I came in a poor man was being tortured and I stood and looked on, a horrified witness, until he died upon the rack.

“Then I was called before the prelate and asked:

“’Will you confess your many sins, declare your repentance and help the Holy Church to secretly take and imprison Sir John Hawkwood?’

“Remembering Sir John’s many kindnesses to me, my duty as a soldier to his commander, and thinking of my dear wife, I unhesitatingly answered; ‘I will not.’

“’It is then my duty to subject you to torture. Reflect that what is done to your body is for the good of your soul and in doing this we are the servants of God. Have you anything to confess in mitigation of our severest torture?’

“‘I have not.’

“I was seized and bound to the ropes and suspended in midair; eight husky friars repeatedly pulled with all their might upon ropes; they swung and jerked me back and forth from floor to ceiling until it seemed arms and legs must be torn from my trunk. I would have lost consciousness long before I did, except I thought of my poor wife rather than myself. Finally the relief of unconsciousness came and hers was the last face I saw.

“It was hours before I regained consciousness and more than a week before I was able to stand.

“A week after the second torture Ser Nuto came for me to be again tortured, but was forced to return and report that I was unable to stand, much less respond to torture.

“While I was on my pallet unable to move, the friar asked for my message to my wife. I told him to cut off the corner of my coat and give her, saying I was well and making every effort for release so I might soon be with her.

“He brought back a note full of hope and tender messages, some money and underclothing. We hid the money under the floor bars of my cell.

“About the time I was able to walk again the prelate of the order died and on the night which had heretofore been selected for my weekly torture the members of the holy tribunal were busy with the reception and entertainment of his successor.

“In some way Ser Nuto’s message of my condition was misunderstood and entry was made in the register opposite my name that I had died from the torture, the friar having told Ser Nuto that I was near death. Thus I became and remained a forgotten prisoner in a dungeon without chance of escape, but for the time free from the dread of torture.

“Until I had been registered as dead frugal meals had been furnished from the kitchen. Now the supply from that source was cut off, except that the friar, by giving the cook a florin each week and telling him that he desired a lunch before retiring, had been able to procure something.

“This was cold and rather a short ration for a man whose appetite was always keen and who had boasted and demonstrated that he could eat a quarter of lamb or a hen at a single meal.

“The friar supplemented this by purchases of fruit and cakes, which he brought to the cell in deep pockets stitched on the lining of his robe, so while I was always hungry, I did not suffer or lose strength.

“He explained the situation to my wife and she filled his pockets with packages of bread, meat, cheese and sweets, so that on each Tuesday night I counted on quite a feast. She also kept him supplied with money to make such purchases as he could carry through the portal without detection by the watchful gatemen.

“We tried all sorts of keys in our effort to unlock the grating, but were unsuccessful. We even had a locksmith make a key from a defective wax impression, but this failed of purpose. The bars might have been cut out with hammer and chisel except the noise would have brought the watchman.

“The friar made a sword of heavy wood and at night when the others slept I would climb up the ladder to the grating and instruct him in its use.

“Could one of the order have seen him, in the brass lamp’s flickering light, making passes and warding off imaginary thrusts with his wooden sword, prancing and jumping back and forth in his narrow cell, clothed only in his under garments, and heard a hollow voice as from a tomb, calling out orders and directing his movements, he would have been convinced that the ancient cloisters were tenanted by ghosts or evil spirits.

“I cannot understand how the swordsman, who for years had worn cowl and habit, could have developed the muscular strength he possessed; which, with his quickness of movement, eye and thought, at the very start of his training made him a dangerous antagonist. He seemed to have the combined strength of several men. It must have been the reward of a clean and regular life, or else a legacy handed down with his fiery spirit from some former churchman or crusader who had greater regard for the helmet than the miter or from a gladiator or soldier ancestry.

“He was always absent during the day and I, having nothing to do to occupy my time, and knowing the importance not only because of my calling but for my health of retaining my muscular flexibility and strength, spent several hours each day climbing around upon and swinging from the bars of the iron cage until finally the rust was worn away and they grew polished from contact with my hands and feet.

“After several months of this I grew so expert and tireless that in giving lessons to my soldier pupil I no longer found it necessary to use the ladder, but swung from the grating, easing first one arm and then the other through the long lesson. One night after he had gone through his sword manual without hesitancy, much less mistake, I said:

“’It is time to throw away that toy and practice with a real weapon, to accustom your arm and hand to the weight and feel of a real sword. When my wife passes you on Tuesday tell her to procure a heavy short sword for you from her brother and to send mine with body armor and helmets for both of us, piece by piece as you can bring it. After we are armed, if I can only get through this grating, we need have no fear of the gate guards.’

“If I am taken or caught you will starve in your dungeon.

“I have thought of that. We must procure the key from the prelate by some subterfuge. Let us first possess our swords and armor, then we will get the key and both escape.

“Within the week the friar made two visits to my house and each time when he left, beneath his outer robe, he wore a corselet and carried a heavy short sword and helmet. We discovered my wife had converted each helmet into a store room which I robbed for a substantial meal.

“The fear that my kind jailer might be removed or not appear from some casualty had caused me to store away a small supply of food and water in a corner of my cell.

“My sword and helmet the friar passed through the grating and when I placed the one upon my head and grasped the familiar handle of the other, new hope kindled in my heart. The corselets were concealed under the couch of my jailer, as mine could not be passed through the grating.

“When he returned that night I called to my companion of the upper story saying; ’Why not go to the custodian of the dungeon and ask for the key to my cell, stating it smells badly and you desire to clean it? He supposes it empty and will readily loan you the key.’

“Your suggestion is a good one and the odor of your cell will certainly confirm the declaration. I will do it; but will wear the corselet and buckle on my sword. If he refuses he is liable to lose both the key and his head.

“A few minutes later I heard him go out and in less than half an hour he returned with the key, which he had no trouble in procuring.

“He fitted it into the lock, I heard the bolts turn and a minute later I stood in the upper cell embracing this morbid, strong-armed friar, who had proven himself my most loyal friend.

“An hour later he returned the key the locksmith had made for us. I had the key to the grating in my pocket and felt in the humor to say; ‘Friend, come to my home and dine tomorrow night,’ though no one knew better than I that thick, high and well-guarded walls opposed our freedom. I felt satisfied, however, if not discovered, that within a few days opportunity would present itself for escape.

“Each night the friar and I, closing fast the outer door, donned our corselets and helmets, and descending into the noise-deadening dungeon, practiced at cutting, thrusting and slashing at each other with our heavy short swords.

“I was surprised at the natural aptitude of the man and his marvelous quickness and strength of wrist. He was a worthy opponent for me though for more than fifteen years I had been ranked the best swordsman of Sir John’s army.

“One night we lost ourselves in the interest of our close contest and made such a noise that it reached the ear of a spy passing the outer door. He tried to effect an entrance but could not; then knocking, and so loudly that finally the sound reached us, and doubtless our neighbors.

“My friend, climbing out, closed the grating, put on his robe and opening the door admitted the spy. Looking around he discovered the key in the grating lock and stooping opened the door and peeped down. He saw nothing in the darkness but the top of a ladder; this he started down, calling for a light.

“I caught him by the ankles, jerked him to the floor and called to my friend to close and bolt the grating, which he did. Whereupon I turned to the spying friar and said; ‘Hand me your robe and cowl.’ With these and my sword and helmet I mounted the ladder to the upper cell.

“My friend said, ‘What shall we do now?’

“‘We will have to keep the spy a prisoner until we escape.’

“’But they will search for him in the morning and in doing so will visit this cell in my absence.’

“’I will don his cowl and habit over my armor and we will escape tonight.’

“’That is impossible, all portals are closed and guarded by watchmen stationed in the barbicans over each gateway. Nor can we scale the walls because the watchmen do not sleep, being put to the torture if found asleep. No one is permitted to leave after night.’

“’Then in the morning as you leave I will go wearing the garment of our prisoner.’

“’It is not possible; each face is scrutinized and no one leaves without a permit. I will leave at the regular time, procure from Sir John Hawkwood two horses, which his servant will hold for us outside the gate. When the horses are ready I will return; then we will leave together.’

“Our plans settled, I returned to my dungeon and, locked in with our prisoner, in a few minutes was asleep. The prisoner sat in one corner on the floor and, from his appearance the next morning, evidently passed an uncomfortable night.

“Before my friend left he passed down my sword, helmet, and the key to the grating. He also cautioned the prisoner not to call out if any one entered the upper cell.

“I set out a supply of food on which the prisoner and I breakfasted. Then, expecting that the upper cell would be visited by a searching party, I made the prisoner lie face down on my pallet, placing the edge of my sword across the back of his neck and telling him if he made the slightest sound I would cut off his head, I stood quietly waiting.

“These preparations were scarcely finished before two men entered the upper cell and looking around a bit and trying the grating, which of course was locked, they went on.

“About an hour later the friar returned and I climbed up the ladder, locking the door after me.

“We put on our metal corselets and swords and over them slipping cowl and habit, went out into the corridor and to the main portal. At the gate were three guards wearing metal helmets, leather jackets and each armed with sword and lance.

“My friend told the guard I was a visiting friar of the order and was to leave in his company. This statement satisfied two of the guards, but the third, more careful, said; ’You must procure a permit from the prelate before I will open the gate.’

“While arguing with him we edged towards the gate and turning quickly started to open it, whereupon he thrust at me with his lance, but my corselet turned it aside.

“Quickly drawing my sword and throwing off the cowl and robe, I made a vicious thrust at him, piercing his leather jacket. He sank at my feet helplessly wounded.

“My companion and I then rushed the other two who turning fled, uttering loud cries of alarm. We ran and opened the small gate, when one of my men rode forward leading two horses, and mounting, the three of us rode rapidly away through a near gate of the city into the open country and by nightfall reached the camp of my horsemen.

“I immediately dispatched a special messenger with a note to my wife telling of my escape and promising within the week to come to her.

“These men were anxious to hear an account of our adventures, believing we had been to England or some distant country on important service; but I had to remain silent to hide the identity of my faithful friend. To their inquiries I answered; ’You must be satisfied with the little we have told; I will say further my experiences have not increased my love for the church, or the Pope.’

“At the monastery they were unable to learn who had escaped with the friar or what became of either of us. Their records showing me dead, made their investigation the more difficult. Of course, in time they learned that was a mistake and doubtless concluded that I accompanied the friar.

“On the following morning I resumed formal command and in a day or two things were moving along as though I had never been absent. The only persons to whom I ever disclosed the place of my imprisonment, were my wife, her brother and Sir John.

“On the third day after I resumed command we were ordered to take an old castle which the owner, though a Tuscan, more churchman than patriot, had voluntarily turned over to the Bologna legate.

“It was situated on the mountain side and made admirable headquarters for several companies of soldiers who acted as a guard for the mountain pass less than a mile distant, through which the legate’s army procured supplies and beyond which we had, as yet, been unable to penetrate.

“To our force of horsemen were added one hundred English bowmen and more than that number of hardy native mountaineers, whom it was thought might render valiant service in scaling or undermining the walls of the castle if we were forced to take it by assault. These additional men made our forces about equal numerically to those occupying the castle. The ex-friar and several mountaineers were the only ones of our force who had ever been within its walls or had knowledge of its interior arrangements. These I sent for, seeking information which might he of value in perfecting our plans for its assault.

“Their description of the stronghold was such as to convince one that its taking was no easy matter.

“The structure was built on a spur which jutted out from the mountain side and which on three sides was too precipitate to be scaled. The overtopping main peaks were too distant to be used by our bowmen. The only approach was across a narrow neck of land which was intersected by a deep moat, crossed only by a narrow drawbridge and against which abutted the perpendicular walls of great height and thickness.

“The ex-friar said; ’A guard of six is always kept at the gate and several watchmen are stationed on the walls. I know of no way by which we can gain admission except, by deception or strategy, we first gain possession of the drawbridge and the gate.’

“‘And how might that be done?’

“’This evening three of us dressed in the habit of the monastery of Agnoli, but wearing armor under our vesture, might approach the gate and ask leave to spend the night, stating we are traveling as messengers to Bologna and have gotten separated from two companions for whom we must wait. During the night you will bring your men to the chestnut wood that lies along the road as you approach the castle and place a dozen of your best archers in the trees nearest the walls. On the morrow just at six we will come to the gate as though leaving the castle and stop there talking with the watchmen. When you are ready our two companions will approach the drawbridge and join us. Then we will assault the six guards and your archers at the same time must kill the watchmen on the wall. While we hold the gate you with your men must cross the drawbridge and get to us. You know we can hold out but a few moments; there must be no delay.’

“’If we adopt this plan I want you and your companions to understand that the danger is great and you will probably be killed by the time we cross. I will force no man to assume the risk. It will be impossible for me to go as I must lead the assault. You will choose the two who go with you and I from volunteers will select two of my best men to meet you at the gate. You shall command the squad and, if successful, Sir John and your companions shall know to whom the credit is due.’

“That afternoon at four, three stalwart Italians left the camp, walking up the mountain. They were equipped in full armor and each carried a bundle under his arm.

“They crossed a rapid mountain stream near the headwaters of the Arno and were seen no more. Shortly thereafter three peaceful-looking friars came forth and took the trail leading to the castle and the pass, as they walked along chanting in a subdued tone the vesper service of their monastery.

“At twilight, dusty and sweat-stained from apparent long travel, they crossed the drawbridge just before it was raised for the night and the gates closed. When challenged by the guards they asked food and shelter for the night. The corporal of the guard interrogated them as to their business in the mountains.

“’We are three of five messengers sent by our order to Bologna. One of the other two was taken sick and forced to remain in the village overnight and a companion stayed with him; they will meet us here or in the pass on the morrow.’

“Reporting to the officer of the day, he was directed to let them in and to provide them with food and a bed of straw in the barracks.

“In the morning, just before six, they came to the gate and stood waiting. They were civilly greeted by the corporal who had let them in the night before, but who was being relieved by another corporal and guard.

“The new squad let down the drawbridge and opened the gate as was the custom when no danger threatened.

“The corporal in charge, who had little love for monks and friars, turning to them said: ’You are three big strapping fellows to be supported by charity. You should be working in the fields or else helping us fight for the church. Why they pay us to do their fighting instead of training you for that purpose I will never understand. Either one of you looks as strong as a bull and with that habit in the ditch, a helmet on your head, wearing corselet and sword you might pass as a soldier. Here come two more of your order; not only the cities but the mountains are full of you. No wonder there is so much poverty in Bologna and Florence.’

“’I have always wished to be a soldier. I would like to try on your helmet and sword and see how my companions and I look dressed as your squad.’

“’Let’s see how the three beggars look in helmets, and you might just as well buckle on our swords. Let the other two across, they can join in the comedy.’

“So we found ourselves within the gates with the swords of the guards in our hands.

“‘Remove your habits and stand forth as men.’

“And so we did and, giving the defenseless, surprised and chagrined corporal a shove, I threw him into the moat and my men forced the others to follow him, where, standing in water and mud to their arm pits and facing an unscalable wall, they yelled an alarm and hoarsely bawled for help.

“In the meantime, the castle and the neighboring wood were in commotion. The watchmen on the walls had been shot down by the archers as had also several soldiers who rushed to see what had caused the uproar. I had a glimpse across the draw of Captain Hawkwood and his soldiers within a hundred yards of the gate, when turning, I saw more than a hundred of the castle guard running towards and within a few feet of our archway.

“They took us for the gate guards and yelled to draw the bridge and close the gate, but instead, sword in hand, we stood at the entrance waiting for them. Then, seeing they faced foes, they came on, but too closely placed for free sword play.

“So the five of us held the gate; then four, then three, then but two, and then I stood alone and as I pitched forward wounded and bleeding in many places, you stepped over me, followed by your men and the battle raged in the court of the castle.

“(The above account was given me by the friar when he recovered. I have told it in his own words.)

“In a few minutes we were masters of the wall and court and our foes masters of the castle proper.

“I had reason to be thankful for our bowmen, who, ranged around and protected by the coping of the wall, made death certain for anyone daring to approach a window or port hole of the castle, else our quarters might have been most uncomfortable.

“Of our five masqueraders three were dead and the other two were sorely wounded in many places. I staunched and dressed the wounds of the ex-friar. In about an hour he opened his eyes and looking at me smiled then sank into semi-conciousness.

“Placing the bowmen on the walls so as to command every aperture of the castle I determined upon an assault of the main portal. The corporal and gate guards having been lifted from the moat were placed in the front line to shield us and we advanced against the great doors of the castle, using a heavy bridge timber as a ram, and in a few minutes effected an entrance, but found each foot of space which we gained a bloody conquest.

“Within an hour after effecting our entrance we were in possession of the ground floor, but our enemy held the upper stories and were too strong and well fortified to be ousted by assault.

“We felt certain they were without food and water, since our assault had been a surprise, and we had captured their storerooms, which were on the ground floor.

“That night we rested, having placed a heavy guard at the gate and on the wall and barricaded ourselves against the upper story. The next morning I sent off fifty men to guard the pass and a messenger to report our progress to Sir John.

“We saw nothing of our foes until afternoon, when we heard them carefully removing their barricades of the door; then it was suddenly thrown open and they stood ready for an assault, facing our barricade, which they had not expected to find.

“Our bowmen, brought in for the purpose, let fly a shower of arrows into their faces at close range, which wounded many. They quickly closed the door and replaced their barricades. More than a dozen of them had been killed or severely wounded by the archers.

“Shortly before sundown the barricade was again removed, the door opened a few inches and a conference asked. I consented that their commander with two aids might be admitted to our quarters.

“To see if they were hungry, a table was prepared with food and drink, at which I asked them to be seated, stating; ’I am about to dine, and after the meal we will discuss any matter you see fit to call up.’

“While the commander ate and drank quite sparingly, I was convinced by the way the two aids responded that they were without provisions.

“We finally agreed upon the terms of their surrender. All were to be liberated and their arms and horses returned, but not until they had retired from the castle and crossed through the pass into the valley towards Bologna.

“Our work, in less than two days, thanks to the ex-friar and his brave companions, was completed. We were the masters of the castle and the pass, which for two years had been held against repeated assaults.

“Shortly afterward we received word that the legate was dead and that his entire force had retired from Tuscany.

“The ex-friar, who now called himself Lorenzo di Puccio was not so seriously wounded as at first appeared. His armor and remarkable expertness as a swordsman had rendered such protection that of his more than thirty wounds only two were rated as serious; and even these, with a month’s careful nursing, in my opinion, would be healed.

“He was placed in the living quarters of the owner of the castle and orders were issued that he should be cared for as a member of the family. In fact, dire punishment was promised the thoroughly frightened owner if he was not given the most careful treatment and nursing. He was even told that the lives of the inmates and the release of the castle depended upon the complete recovery of his patient.

“The result was that Lorenzo received the most solicitous attention from the wife and daughter of the owner. Throughout the day one sat constantly by his bedside and in time both grew quite fond of their patient, regarding him as a most important personage, since such particular orders had been issued for his care. Lorenzo and his fair nurse, the daughter, became lovers, and several months later were married.

“Everything having turned out to the complete satisfaction of Sir John there being no longer an enemy to fight and the campaign practically ended I made application for and was given leave to return home.

“Upon arrival in Florence I found the city torn asunder by jealousy and dissention. Such government as existed was one of gabble. All recognized and appreciated that a fiercer contest than the one just happily closed was impending.

“Criticism of the conduct of the war and the nature of the peace to be made appeared the principal issues but the real issue was factional rule. Though the five war commissioners, with the assistance of Sir John, had carried through the war without the loss of a single battle and had driven the Pope’s legate from Tuscan territory, the campaign had not been conducted in accordance with the great courage and generalship of the stay-at-homes of the other faction.

“All this I perceived with great sadness, since I now claimed to be a citizen of Florence, and upon the enforcement of law and order depended the safety of my wife and property.

“During my imprisonment and absence, I had, reflectively at least, become a personage of importance; as my brother-in-law, Silvestro de Medici, was the head of the Ricci, or anti-Guelph faction, now in power. It was, therefore, incumbent upon me, when I moved about the city, to be attended by a squire and even a small guard of troopers. Next to Sir John, I was considered the most important military officer in the city.

“The Ricci faction was in control of the city. They had the support of the populace and the Alberti and Medici families.

“The faction opposing them was known as the Guelphs and, while not directing the government, had the power to admonish. They controlled the captains of the parts, and had the support of the church, the nobility and the Albizzi family.

“On St. John’s day, when the gathering of their followers would go unnoticed in the vast holiday crowd, they had determined upon seizing the government.

“In the meantime, the government, or Ricci faction, learned of their purpose, and, over their opposition, elected my brother-in-law, Silvestro, Gonfalonier, or chief magistrate of the city.

“He was thoroughly familiar with their schemes for oppressing the people and, as steps towards diminishing their influence, resolved that laws should be enacted retrenching their powers.

“To do this he had first to obtain the consent of the colleague and the council and called together the two bodies the same morning for that purpose.

“When he presented his proposition to the colleagues he was surprised at the opposition encountered and, concluding that his purpose might be defeated upon a vote, excused himself from the colleagues and went before the council, to which body he tendered his resignation, declaring that since he could neither help the government nor the people he felt in duty bound to resign as chief magistrate.

“At this, his friends in the council gave voice to strenuous protest. They raised such a commotion that the colleagues and council, assembling together, demanded that he remain in office and the colleagues, in the midst of the greatest confusion, passed his proposed laws.

“Lorenzo, the ex-friar, now married and living in Florence, was present as a spectator. He became greatly incensed at the remarks of Carlo Strozzi and, seizing him by the throat, would have strangled him had not several of us torn his half-conscious victim away.

“The excitement increased until the whole city was aroused and in arms.

“The plebs, led by Benedetto degli Alberti and Lorenzo, who some time before had joined the wool-combers’ union, and was an intimate friend and trusted lieutenant of Michael di Lando, the head of the strongest trade union or order in the city, were soon so wrought up as to be past restraint and were ready for any acts of violence.

“The merchants closed their doors, the nobles fortified themselves in their homes and many hid their valuables in the churches, the monastery of Agnoli, and the convent of S. Spirito.

“The captains of the parts, and the other forces of the Guelph faction, gathered to organize their deferred revolution and defend themselves; but learning of the action of the colleagues and the council and perceiving the opposition too great and dangerous, separated, each hunting safety for himself.

“A part of the trade unions, particularly the members of the wool-combers, joined the mob to avenge themselves upon the Guelphs. Led by Michael di Lando, Lorenzo and myself, they broke into, looted and burned the house of Lapo, but he escaped, disguised as a monk, into the Casentino. Piero and Carlo, two other of their leaders, hid themselves and so well we could not find them.

“Then we looted and burned the houses of other Guelphs and wound up our orgy by sacking and thoroughly looting the monastery of Agnoli, at which place we found great treasure in gold and jewels, knowing just where to look for it.

“Visiting my old cell in the cloisters we found in one corner of the dungeon a humped up skeleton, which led us to believe that the prison of the captive spy had never been discovered.

“The next day the trade unions appointed each a syndic and these, with the colleagues, sought to quiet the city, but without success.

“On the following day the unions appeared in force bearing the ensigns of their trades and, fully armed, took possession of the palace of the signory.

“Upon this the council in terror created a balia, giving general power to the Signory, the colleagues, the eight commissioners of war, the captains of the parts and the trade unions to reorganize the government of the city.

“The balia restored all privileges to the admonished, annulled all unpopular laws passed by the Guelphs, declared Lopo, Carlo and Piero traitors and outlaws, elected a new signory and appointed Luigi Guiccia, Gonfalonier.

“Still the disorders continued unabated. No business was done, the shops remained closed and the populace, no better satisfied, paraded the streets in armed bands and in a dangerous humor.

“The heads of the trade unions were called before the Signory, when Luigi, the Gonfalonier, speaking for the signory, asked; ’What do you yet want? At your request we have taken all power from the opposition; we have restored to the admonished the power to hold office. You demanded that those participating in the riots and guilty of robbery and arson be pardoned; even this to our shame, we have granted. Yet continuously you appear before us making new demands, continue rioting and by numbers and threats seek to intimidate our body. You have so terrorized the people that no business is transacted. Where will it all end? What more do you want? How will business be restored and peace brought about? What is to become of the city? Your vandalism destroys the very property which furnishes your unions with employment; your employers are powerless to continue in business or give the people work. Why do you not disband and return to work? Your requests, reasonable and unreasonable, have been granted. What better government can you expect than the one you enjoy? It is of your own choosing and based upon the fundamental principle that the supreme authority of the state is in the majority of the people.’

“His suggestions, which were fair and conciliatory, might have prevailed, except that I wanted greater concessions for our particular union; and for that purpose frightened the weakening and consenting ones who had participated in the riots to further violence by telling them that to save themselves they must burn and loot yet more; must commit other and greater wrongs and incite others to join them, saying:

“’If many commit wrongs few or none are punished; the petty criminal is chastised, but the great one is rewarded. When the whole people suffer, few seek vengeance. The government stands great and public wrongs with more patience and resignation than private and little ones. If we hesitate, or lose, or give ground, we will be punished; if we carry our rebellion through to the extent of forcing a reorganization of the government, we conquer and are glorious. Great power is acquired by force and great wealth by fraud; the faithful in service remain in service; and the reward of honesty is poverty; men, like fishes, feed upon one another. To save yourselves you must continue to destroy and excite the opposition to such fear for themselves and their property that they will pardon your offences and look upon you as saviors when you cease to oppress them. Shape your conduct by your desires; if you wish to be masters, continue to oppress; if you wish to be banished and punished as criminals, submit. What I suggest, though dangerous, is under the circumstances not only expedient, but your only course, your only salvation.’

“This reasoning, coupled with similar arguments from Lorenzo, seemed so conclusive that our auditors agreed to our suggestions, and Michael di Lando was chosen to command our organization. He was already head of the wool-combers union, the largest and most powerful in the city, supporting the plebs and the low class people.

“The second night thereafter was fixed upon to put our plans into execution. We bound ourselves in mutual defense and to undertake to gain possession of the republic.

“One of our men named, Simone, was arrested and, when put to the torture, disclosed the plot. While he was being tortured, Nicolo Friano, who was repairing the palace clock, saw it and heard a part of his confession. He fled to our meeting place and reported what he had seen and heard.

“Immediately we armed ourselves and, more than a thousand strong, gathered in the square of S. Spirito, and so the revolution began.

“The signory issued orders that the gonfaloniers of the people and their companies should assemble in the public square at daylight the next morning, but less than a hundred men appeared under arms in support of the government, while our forces had grown to more than three thousand.

“A body of the plebeians first assembled at San Pietro, but there was no force to oppose them. Then other trade unions gathered in various squares and market places, including the palace, or public square.

“They demanded from the signory that all prisoners be released, which was done, and these immediately joined our ranks.

“We took the gonfalon of Justice from its bearer and under the authority of that banner burned and looted many houses and killed many of our enemies. Any member of our companies who desired to punish any private enemy or satisfy his revenge had but to call out; ’Let us burn the house of Luigi Poggi; he is an enemy of the people and unfriendly to our order.’ When leading the way he was followed by and had the assistance of the whole assemblage.

“Many a plebeian in rags was knighted during this period, and many a patrician was satisfied to lose all if he and his family but escaped with their lives.

“By night of that first day our numbers had increased to more than six thousand, and before the following morning we were in possession of all the trade ensigns, were using their headquarters as barracks, and practically controlled the city.

“The signory, assembling, asked our wishes. We named a committee of four to confer with them. They demanded new judges, and three new companies of the arts who should have representation in the signory, one for the wool combers and dyers; one for the barbers and tailors, and a third for the lowest class of the people, that is, the unskilled laborers. We demanded a cancellation of all debts and that our enemies be banished or punished. These demands we forced the signory to grant, and gave our promise that disorders should cease.

“The next morning, while the council was still considering the proposition, a tremendous mob of the trades entered the square carrying their ensigns and so intimidated the council and signory that the members fled with the exception of Alemanno and Niccolo. They were finally driven away by threats that if they did not leave their houses would be burned and their families murdered.

“Then we entered the palace, led by Michael di Lando, who bore the standard of the gonfalonier of justice. The most of our crowd were in rags.

“He took possession of the dias of the presiding officer of the Signory and, turning to his followers, said; ’You are now in possession of the palace and the council hall, in control of the city and in a position to constitute yourselves the governing authority in place of those who have deserted their posts; what is your pleasure?’

“’We wish you for our gonfalonier and that you govern the city as the representative of the trade unions and the people.’

“’I accept your command and shall proceed to restore peace and order in the city.’

“Though meanly clad, he was possessed of much good sense and was not without dignity and courage. With capacity and self-possession, he proceeded at once to exercise the authority he had assumed.

“Lorenzo and I, who all the time had acted as his lieutenants and advisers, to hold the mob in check and at the same time settle an old score dating back to my imprisonment in the monastery, suggested that Ser Nuto, then sheriff, be arrested and delivered to the mob. He had made himself very officious in oppressing the trades and the plebeians.

“While those deputized to find him were searching the city, others built a gallows in the palace square for his execution; we having determined that his execution should be the first to strike terror into those who had opposed our wishes.

“He was soon found and hung by the mob from the gallows by one foot. In less than five minutes he was torn to pieces, nothing remaining but the foot by which he had been suspended.

“The first order issued by Michael di Lando was that any one who burned or looted a house should be punished as Ser Nuto had been.

“He removed the members of the signory and the colleagues and deposed the syndics of the trades. The eight war commissioners who had assumed to set up a new signory were ordered to resign, which they did.

“He then assembled the newly-elected syndics of the trades and in conjunction with them created a new signory, composed of four members from the plebeians, two from the major and two from the minor trades. One of the four members of the plebeians was the ex-friar, appointed under his assumed name of Lorenzo di Puccio. No one ever suspicioned his former connection with the monastery of Agnoli.

“My brother-in-law was awarded the rentals from the butcher stalls of Ponte Vecchio; Michael di Lando retained for himself the provostry of Empoli; Sir John Hawkwood was made Captain General, and I was made his aid, knighted and placed in command of all mercenaries.

“No sooner had order been restored than certain of the trade unions, much incensed at the prospect of work, and a majority of the plebeians who seemed better satisfied with disorder, sought to incite violence by charging that Michael di Lando in reformation of the government had favored the higher or richer class citizens and neglected his associates, who had placed him in power; a charge which was not true. Whereupon many of them took up arms and started fresh disorders.

“They came before him a riotous multitude, demanding many changes. He ordered them to lay down their arms, stating that no concessions would be made to a show of intimidation.

“His answer but enraged them the more. They withdrew and, assembling at Santa Maria Novella, appointed eight leaders and prepared to storm the palace and make good their demands. They then sent a delegation to the signory, directing that they grant their demands.

“This delegation was so arrogant and threatening that Michael di Lando, losing his temper, drew his sword and, after wounding several, had them cast into prison.

“When this was reported, their organization marched towards the palace. Michael, in the meantime gathering his forces, started for their place of assemblage. The opposing forces, traveling different streets, passed on the way; the mob arriving at the palace about the time that his forces reached their place of assemblage.

“With his force, in which was the remnant of The White Company, he returned to the palace, where a fierce contest waged for its possession. Our opponents were vanquished and driven beyond the city walls or found safety by hiding within the city.

“Order was restored and for the first time in many months the city was quiet. Michael gave to the city a just and, for the time, a peaceful administration of three years. While he rescued the city from the lowest plebeians, his administration was artisan-controlled and governed. The signory was made up of nine members, of which the superior trades furnished four and the inferior trades five members.

“Shortly after restoration of order and reorganization new factions were organized between the artificers on the one side, called the plebeians, and the nobles and church on the other, called the popular party.

“It was discovered that certain members of the popular party were in conspiracy with Gianozzo da Salerno of Bologna, who had been prevailed upon to undertake the conquest of the city.

“Piero and Carlo were accused of connection with this conspiracy and Sir John Hawkwood, Tomasso Strozzi and Benedetto Alberti, with a strong force, prepared to resist this invasion.

“Piero was executed. Subsequently Giorgio Scali and Tomasso Strozzi made themselves offensive to the government. Tomasso fled, but Giorgio was made prisoner and beheaded.

“Beginning with this, one disorder followed another in the political struggles between the plebeians and the popular party and the major and minor trades.

“After many balias had been appointed for the reformation of the government and there had been two general assemblies of the people, a new government was formed, controlled by the opposition. They recalled all people banished by Sylvestro. All who had acquired office by the balia of 1378 were deposed. The Guelphs were restored to power and the plebeians and trades deposed. Michael di Lando and Lorenzo di Puccio were banished. The good they had done and the services they had rendered were quickly forgotten.”

The boss carpenter, after more than an hour’s steady talking, stirred and groaned; he opened his eyes and sat up saying;

“I have been dreaming of labor unions and fighting. I believe I will walk to Winchester, as I am expected to talk to some friends at a meeting tonight.”