Chapter 16

"Dear Margherita," he said with emotion, "it is well for our dear Queen that thou art so loyal; and well for our distraught land that thou shouldst be near her." He kissed her hand again as he released it. "I spoke but to try thee, my child. If there are those near her whom we may not trust--it is not thou: I know that a de Iblin could not be disloyal."

"To try me--my Lord----! _Me!_"

She had drawn away from him, wounded and disdainful, her voice thrilling with anger.

But he answered her quietly and sorrowfully. "Could I risk any hurt to thee, cara Dama Margherita, if duty of plainest speech were not imperative? I trust thee wholly--how else could I speak thus with thee? I have never for a moment doubted thee; yet one might doubt one's own loyalty in this court of Cyprus--where, it is told me, there is a most subtle intriguer who seeketh to do thee harm."

"So it be not those whose esteem is dear to me," she answered wearily, still smarting from the hurt, "what matters it?"

"My child," he pleaded, "if it had not been needful, I should not have told thee; nor told thee _thus_, but that I wished to see if any suspicion of this had dawned upon thee. But thou, like the Queen, art too noble to soil thy soul with distrust. Yet, bethink thee, for her sake, if there be any within this circle--however fairly spoken--who may be intriguing against thee, yet seeking in secret to disaffect the court in favor of some other claimant."

"Who brought your Excellency this tale?" she asked; "since all may not be trusted?" Her tone was a challenge, and she moved towards the door to close the interview, but the Admiral would not follow.

"Put by thine indignation, Margherita," he answered patiently, "for I have told thee as I would tell my own Alicia, if danger threatened--if somewhat overclumsily it seemeth to a maiden's fancy. It was told me, in confidence, by one of judgment and most loyal honor, whose name I may not reveal, and who besought me that I should warn thee--_thee, Margherita_--who knew thy loyalty staunch as his own."

A slow, pale flush grew on the girl's proud cheek as she listened and her eyes took on a strange light.

"What matters it, my Lord," she said again, "to me, if I have thy trust and--and--that of all men of honor! Forgive the temper of my house!" She stretched out her hand to him.

"So thou but know when to curb it," he answered smiling, "it is thy strength and our pride. And now--as to this other?"

"My Lord, I do not know"--but she paused suddenly.

"It is well," he said watching her, "for I may name no names--but thou art on thy guard. She was named to me as very fair--subtle--charming--of an ancient house of Cyprus--_we have named no names_. Let no confidences escape thee in her presence: but we have no knowledge yet of any traitorous intent that might excuse her dismissal from Court; and if it be but petty, personal jealousy"--again Margherita had flushed unwontedly--"for a mere jealousy, one may not insult a noble, ancient house. It is not known if her sympathy be with Naples, or with Carlotta."

"Your Excellency shall know if aught be discovered that should be told," Margherita promised. "But the matter is difficult."

"As to Her Majesty," the Admiral continued lowering his voice still further, "it hath been found needful to guard her interests, and the Signor Bernardini hath been named to the Council--a most excellent gentleman--if he were not of Venice. I would have had another of our Cyprian nobles, because of this jealousy of Venice. But they have kept themselves so much from court that we have not seen their color; and we dare not trifle with them, for the time is critical."

"Why not thou--Eccellentissimo?"

"Nay; I may keep a wider outlook on the interests of the kingdom without the Council. The city of Nikosia shall stand for her; the trading interests are to watch; the fleets must be re-manned; these intrigues must be thwarted. I outside the court, and thou within, very closely within--as near to the heart of the Queen as she will let thee--we shall work and help her, for her task is not light. She swore her oath of office to me, and I to her gave mine, as solemnly--to help her with my life. It is a heavy load for such tender hands to lift:--a question if one may conquer wile with innocency--yet the strife is noble."

"What may be done to help her?" Dama Margherita questioned, heavy-hearted. "What is my part? It is not only the scandal of watching against intrigue."

"That is no scandal to loyal service: and such her very trust and goodness do demand. But there is more: out of thy fuller knowledge of the Cyprian temper--thy comprehension of their grievances--thy loyal Cyprian pride--thy staunchness to the House of Lusignan--make thyself charming to these great Cyprian nobles; help the Queen to see the need of their conciliation, and stoop a little from thy loftiness to win it for them. To two such women, the impossible is easy. I leave thee now."

"Is there no more?" she asked.

"Nay:--or it is a trifle. If they have found the court a little over-dull, of late, blame them not over-much: the need for gayety and splendor is in their blood--more than in ours of Sicily--more even than in that of Venice--which hath greater gravity. I have spoken with Madama di Thénouris and the Lady of the Bernardini; but Madama di Thénouris hath better understanding of the Cyprian temper, its need of excitement--half barbaric--its impatience with a tone of gloom; the tourneys, the tennis, the hunt, all that bringeth life--let the court be charming again with jewels and color. Too great gravity is not wise."

"Yet to-day, your Excellency, if there were no lack of brilliancy--how many were not there to see!"

"It is the beginning only," he said; "let it not be the end. Great issues have been changed by such trifles."

"Must there be no more than trifles?" she asked, detaining him, dissatisfied.

He looked at her, uncertain whether it were wise to speak further.

"Tell no one that they are trifles: but listen," he said. "It will take _strength_, and _patience_, and _wisdom_ and _cunning_ and _grace_ to rule this people. Shall we ask all this of any woman?" He dwelt upon the words with weighty enunciation.

"Or of any _man_?" she answered, half-mocking at the demand. "And if he were really a man, and not a god--and if one might choose one's King----"

He shook his head slowly in response. "Our paragon might not be found in the House of Lusignan, perchance. But surely he would not be a Louis of Savoy--nor a Ferdinand of Naples--no more than a Carlotta. _Nor any Cyprian noble who hath eyes upon the Crown._"

"Not this, also!" she cried, startled; "_not this!_"

"So rumor hath it; but none is strong enough. It frets me not. I have but told thee since thou art on guard."

"Is there a remedy?" she asked despondent.

"It is not hopeless. The Ministers must rule the land. We must choose our men and bide our time. Our Queen, by her grace, shall win the people's hearts: and all may be well."

"And the little Prince--under her training?--For she will teach him love and justice. She hath vowed him to the service of his land."

"Aye, he is our hope. We must guard her kingdom for him."

Then suddenly his face flamed with wrath. "This Council of the Realm were arch-traitors!" he said fiercely, "and to think that they escaped death!--Wresting power for their own ends--taking no concern for Cyprian interests--they 'forget' the tribute which assures to Cyprus the support of our Suzerain, and wait for Venice to come with careful inquiry to set such failures right! But what cared they whether the provisions of a solemn treaty were kept or broken? They had no thought of honor--they wanted power to overturn the throne--not to uphold it.--The masterful meanness of such creatures is beyond comprehension!"

"It doth unman me!" he said apologetically to Margherita, after this unusual outburst, for Mutio di Costanzo was a man of few words; then,

"Madama di Thénouris is of our private council," he added, to her immense relief, as he left her.

XXVII

It was the Bernardini whose swift thought had sent the first faithful account of the revolt of the Council of the Realm to the Signoria--his ingenuity which had secured the delivery of this true statement before the false story under the signature forced from Caterina had reached Venice--his prowess that had generaled the uprising of the citizens for the Queen's release--his devotion that had rescued the infant Prince from captivity--his foresight that had sent warning to the Admiral Mocenigo before he could be summoned from Venice to the rescue. Such honors as might be decreed to a fidelity beyond reward had come upon Aluisi Bernardini from the Republic, apt in recognition: and the undying gratitude of the Queen was already his.

"What shall I give thee, beloved Cousin?" the Queen had asked him. "Wilt thou be a noble of Cyprus?"

"Dear Lady," he answered, "I want but thy favor. Doth it not suffice me that I am a noble of Venice?"

"Nay--but to prove how thou art in my grace--with rich fiefs and holdings in this land for which thou hast spent thy service right royally."

"He doth not spend 'right royally' who seeketh reward," he answered, smiling down upon her, as he stood before her.

Caterina answered him by quoting the Cyprian proverb, "_Assai dimanda che fidelmente serve_." (Who hath faithfully served hath made a large demand.)

But he shook his head, still smiling.

"Other than I have done, what true knight would do?" he protested. "There could be no question of reward between us--thou being royal Lady of our Casa Cornaro, and I sworn to thy faithful service--my cousin and Queen. But, if thou wilt grant thy favor----"

He had grown suddenly grave.

"Nay, Aluisi, how may I grant what thou already hast?"

"I thank thee, fair Cousin. See how I trust thy favor to bring thee warning--being so much thine elder--dealing so much more with men than thou--being now of thy Council of the Realm----"

"Doth it need so many words from thee to me to excuse a counsel?--from _thee_, who gavest me back my child!"

She held out both hands to him impulsively, as a daughter to a father, her beautiful face radiant with gratitude and affection.

He closed the fair hands for a moment in his own, very tenderly. "I should have envied any," he said, "whose fortune it had been to do this thing for thee. My star hath favored me. Heaven keep our little Prince to bless his realm of Cyprus!"

After a moment's silence, Caterina spoke playfully, to recall him to his theme. "Was it for this fervent vow of loyalty that thou didst crave my grace?"

His face deepened to a seriousness that was almost compassionate.

"Thou knowest that I would fain help thee: thy people would verily spend themselves for thee--thou hast won their hearts. But, among the ancient nobles--it were wise to tell thee frankly--there is some discontent."

"Is it new matter?" she asked, frowning a little. She had motioned him to a seat, for she saw that he had much to say.

"It hath been spoken of before, but since--since the treachery of the Council and--other things--and the most unbounded confidence by the Signoria reposed in me to uphold the Queen--I have sought more nearly to sift the causes of this disaffection. They seem to me to be not beyond conciliation."

"'_Not beyond conciliation_,'" she echoed, "it _seems_ to thee! It is a sad word to bring me of my people, Aluisi, since I would give my life for them." Her eyes had filled with tears.

"It is sad, beloved Lady: but nothing is hopeless that is not finished. Is it not better to see wisely than to ignore?--Let us be brave."

She folded her hands very tightly for a moment, as if struggling with herself; then she lifted her eyes to his.

"Teach me," she said. "What wouldst thou?--Thou shalt verily be made one of the Counts of the Chamber, that I may know _one_ loyal among my Cyprian nobles."

"Nay, nay"--he made an effort to assume a lighter tone--"there is no need; else would it be wise to sail for Venice with the fleet of the Mocenigo! But, pardon me, fair Cousin; there is no need to bind _my_ loyalty with Cyprian titles and Cyprian lands. Let the Sovereign of Cyprus seek _her own nobles_ for such favors."

"Shall I stoop to _buy_ the people of my kingdom?" she asked, a little bitterly. "Is this thy honorable counsel?"

He rose at once. "My Cousin," he said, "thou art not thyself--thine anger doth color thy speech. I crave thy promise to listen fairly to my honest thinking--which it is not over-easy to bring thee." He spoke compassionately.

"Forgive me, Aluisi; I listen."

"Out of thy generous heart, thou wouldst have covered me--who am a Venetian--with Cyprian honors. I thank thee. But I will translate thee to thyself. Was it 'to buy my loyalty?'"

"Nay, nay--but of appreciation--to show thee grace. Thou knowest it, Aluisi!" Her repentance came swift and warm as that of a child.

"I know it well," he answered heartily. "Show but this thy grace to thy Cyprian nobles and win them to thy court. They should come _first_ in favor of their Queen."

"Have I been found lacking?" she asked, slowly; "and if--and if there seemeth little to reward?"

"Reward that little openly, and there shall be more. Bethink thee: there hath been great honor shown the Mocenigo."

"It was so ordered by the Republic," she began in a tone of self-justification; then stopped with a sudden perception of his point.

"Was it for this, perchance, that the Cyprian nobles came less heartily?" he pursued. "Is there no honor that might yet be granted to that most noble knight, the Admiral Costanzo?"

"Whatever favor he would have is already his:--he was the friend of Janus and my own," she answered in a tone of surprise that was almost indignant. And then, with a lingering on the words that was indescribably pathetic, she added:

"Janus hath written of him, '_Nostro caro, fedel a ben amato Sieur Mutio di Costanzo_' (our dear, faithful and well-beloved seigneur) thou mayest read it in our '_Libro delle Rimembranze_.' Could I do aught to add thereto?"

For answer he bowed his head, in tender reverence for her thought: for the loyalty with which she sought and treasured every token of nobility that had been chronicled of her husband--for the proud discretion with which she taught herself such utter silence on her wrongs--for the great love which, growing to a _culte_ through those years of girlish dreams and of fair anticipation, had made this attitude possible for her,--who was all truth.

"His Excellency the Admiral is verily the champion of Cyprus," the Bernardini resumed after a little silence; "and methinks he would hold dear the royal order to re-man the galleys which have been disbanded--as it is now thought, by advice of the traitor Rizzo, or of some other Councillor _in favor of Ferdinand of Naples_. I would fain bring this matter for consideration before the Council, if it hath your Majesty's favor."

"It is well," she said, in a tone of perplexity, "if it seemeth so to the Council of the Realm. But our counsellors of Venice who brought us aid, spoke not of this."

She lifted her liquid dark eyes to his face, as she spoke--a girl of nineteen, bewildered with the intricate jealousies and strifes of her island kingdom--no wonder that she felt her hands weak to hold the sceptre so disputed!

"It may be that _Venice_ hath not so closely at heart the interests of Cyprus as the Queen herself might hold them," he answered slowly and watching her as he spoke. "We must win the Cyprian nobles to our councils and consult their needs and bring them before the people as in the grace of your Majesty. _Let us not always think the thoughts of Venice._" She started and flushed slightly at his last words, but how could he help her else?--"We must do this to bind the hearts of the nobles to our Prince," he added, to give her courage.

"Let us not always think the thoughts of Venice!" The meaning was new to her, and for a few moments she struggled with it silently; then she lifted her eyes to his face and searched it artlessly, as a child might have done, to see if she had fully comprehended his strange speech--most strange from her Venetian Councillor.

But he met her gaze as frankly, having nothing to add to the simple statement wherewith he had sought to arouse this new consciousness within her, and which he wished her to ponder.

"Thou art more Cyprian, my cousin, than any member of the Council hath ever shown himself," she said at length, "and it heartens me--for thou art right. But now--just now--what may be done?" She spoke eagerly, as if from a new standpoint.

"There is Stefano Caduna, a man of the people--most worthy of your Majesty's grace. And there is Pietro Davilla, Seigneur and Knight, who hath proven his loyalty--how if he were to be named Grand Constable of Cyprus? Shall these be spoken of to the Council which will meet to-morrow, that some favor may be decreed them?"

"It is well; it should be done, thou art strength to me, Aluisi."

"Is there aught else that should be brought before the Council?" he asked.

She hesitated a moment, and then added with visible timidity and reluctance, flushing a vivid scarlet:

"There are other things that seem too petty--but since the death of the Auditor, our Uncle Andrea, thou hast perchance noted much scantiness of our treasury, though when it is a question of pageantry, the Council hath ever found enough and to spare. But the land is a rich land; yet there are no moneys in my hand wherewith to reward a favor or grant a dole of charity. If this be a symbol of power----"

"I will replace the voice of Messer Andrea in the Council," he hastened to assure her. "And, meanwhile--we are of one house, my Cousin----"

"Because thou art generous, shall the Council do less than its duty?" she asked proudly. "Or shall I be content to know that measures wise for the ruling of the realm may be frowned upon by those who hold the keys of my treasury--_yet render no account_? The knowledge of this added treachery hath come to me but recently; and this also was of Rizzo's malfeasance. Dost think that moneys shall be found for the manning of our fleet? Or that I have any voice in the spending of them?"

"The Madonna be praised that Rizzo and that Minister of Satan are fled!" he exclaimed devoutly.

"While Rizzo held office, I might ask _no_ question," she said, turning towards him a face of pathetic appeal; for she had never before dared to speak freely of her grievances even to him--in so comprehensive a manner had the Chief of Council known how to assert himself: "and now, that I would fain have knowledge, that I may rule my people wisely, so much there is to set in order, that my heart doth fail me. I have written to the Serenissimo to tell him my perplexities--to pray that he might make it lighter for me to rule."

The Bernardini knew that she had cause for her failing courage, while yet he keenly felt that the remedy should not lie in an appeal to Venice, whose power was the unacknowledged core of bitterness in the growing disaffection among the Cyprian nobles. It might not yet be too late to save the kingdom for Cyprus; and what it lay within his power to do, Venetian though he was, he would do, rather than see this '_isola fortunata_' slip without a struggle, into a mere Venetian province. The knowledge had been painfully growing within him that Venice was playing her hand skilfully--that Caterina would find herself simply a pawn to be moved at will of the Republic, and that "check" would be called whenever that masterful will should elect: there had been signs, too many to ignore, of splendor of movement and expenditure whenever the prestige of the Republic might be concerned--of indifference when the grievances of the Queen were confessed, or the autonomy of the island was in question--of slowly increasing assertion of Venetian power and rights.

He had accepted his mission, at the hands of his Government, to protect the rights of the Queen--not to enslave Cyprus; and his duty stood forth to him in firm, unwavering lines. Yet how should he dismay Caterina further in the attempt to force her fuller comprehension? He hesitated for a moment, but there seemed no other way. For very pity of her he spoke decidedly, with slow insistence holding her attention.

"The Queen of Cyprus _holdeth her kingdom by no favor of Venice_; but of inheritance, through her husband, the King. The failures in the Government should be righted by Cyprian wisdom; we must fill the vacancies with Cypriotes. I will take counsel with His Excellency the Lord Admiral of Cyprus."

XXVIII

It was the birthday of the little Prince:--only one year since he had opened his baby-eyes on life--and the day of his anniversary dawned radiantly.

Then, suddenly, athwart the sunshine and the promise, like the cloud in a perfect sky in a day of June, the shadows gathered and darkened.

The child was stricken.

"There is no hope," they said; and before the day had closed the little dimpled hands were folded over his marble breast, the long dark lashes peacefully swept the violet eyes that would never again unclose; and the tiny restless feet were still--oh, God, how still!--while, on the baby-brows that would never know the weight of the crown he was born to bear, the smile of a cherub crowned him with the promise of fairer Life.

The nobles, the soldiers, the courtiers, the people, they came and looked, often with silent tears, as he lay in state, in the light of countless tapers, on his mound of flowers--offerings not only from royal terraces--for his mother had willed it so--but the gifts which his people had brought, lay there together, rare exotics and the flowers of the field and forest, crushed and mangled, perchance, in some toil-worn hand when they came from far.

How little he seemed to have carried the hope of a kingdom!--how strong, to have swept it away with the mere folding of his baby-hand!--how mighty, to have crushed all dreams of happiness, forever, within his mother's breast!

GOD HAVE MERCY!

* * * * *

When the first days of the shock of the child's death had passed, and the Queen had roused herself to notice those who were anxiously watching her, she asked to be left alone with Dama Margherita: but of the child she would not speak.

"Tell me," she said, "of the saintly Margherita of thine house, the Abbess of San Lazzaro; why left she the world?"

"Dear Lady--beloved Lady"--Dama Margherita pleaded, and would have soothed her; but the Queen would have the story. She laid a hot, tremulous hand on that of her friend and urged her with dry, imploring eyes, as she listened to the tale of the founding of the Abbey of San Lazzaro, while for pity, the tears of Margherita were dropping fast.

"We must turn her from this thought," said Dama Margherita earnestly to the Lady of the Bernardini, as she left the Queen's presence, sorrowfully. "She will not speak of the child; she hath wept no tears; and the fever of her grief, locked within herself, will drive her to madness. She hath asked that Father Johannes be sent for, without delay. Doubtless it is for this scheme. Doth it seem wise to your Excellency now--while she is in this state?"

"Cara Margherita, should we be slow to obey the will of a suffering soul, for fear of what might chance? The reverend Father is wise for her: if any might bring her comfort, it is he."

* * * * *

Father Johannes Lampadisti had been often with the Queen in the past year, and had become her trusted counsellor, and almoner in many matters relating to the people, so that the guards and servants of the palace knew that when the wild prior of the convent from the mountain of the Troödos appeared in the palace court-yard asking audience of the Queen, he was never to be denied.