Chapter 18

"Nay: leave the Queen to the Dama Margherita for this one blissful morning," she interrupted without ceremony: "for I have news--verily; and they may return ere it be told. Which of you knoweth aught of the Holy Sister Violante--she of the down-held lids and silent ways--who slipped into the court the night of that _great signal fire_ upon the mountain, behind the citadel?"

She scanned the eager faces triumphantly, but no one had anything to tell.

"For verily the Sister Violante maketh part of this strange mystery," she proceeded after a moment of impressive silence. "She and the great signal fire--of which no one knew aught!--so innocent were all the gentlemen of the court--and the Bernardini most of all! But they are parts of one romance; and the Violante came to influence Her Majesty; the Violante, with her devout ways, wearing the habit of a holy sisterhood to which her gracious Majesty is wont to give undue reverence--being not apt to penetrate an intrigue--too fair a saint, by far!--The Sister Violante came to win Her Majesty to acquiesce in some strange bidding from Rhodes; or perchance from the Sultan himself."

"How knowest thou, Ecciva?" They crowded around her thrilling with pleasant excitement--the craving for which was unduly whetted by the splendor and aimlessness of the life of this Eastern court--for a romance with such a beginning might have an indefinitely delightful termination; and Dama Ecciva had some strange knack of always knowing more than others of any savory morsel of gossip of which there might be hints in the air.

She looked at them nonchalantly, well-pleased at any sort of dominance, but never confessing it by her attitude.

"Have I not eyes?" she questioned, with tantalizing slowness; "and ears?--Are they to grow dull for lack of usage?"

"Nay; tell us, Ecciva."

She drew nearer and lowered her voice mysteriously. "That Tristan de Giblet--he who would have killed the King the night that he climbed the city-walls and fled to Rhodes--we know the tale----"

"Aye, aye; we know it. And then?"--they pleaded impatiently.

But Dama Ecciva was not to be swerved from the irritating composure which pleased her mood for the moment:

"And one of us--hath any one seen Alicia de Giblet? She hath not been among us since that night of the _signal fire_."

"She hath been ill, in the Château de Giblet this month past," several voices responded at once.

"Perchance, sweet maids;--or in some other less splendid castle where dungeons are of more account than the fine banquet hall of the de Giblet! And because Alicia is sister to this Messer Tristan--I have done much thinking of late--it is time for the Bernardini to return. Let us give over talk."

"Alicia de Giblet was sister to that traitor!" one of them exclaimed indignantly; "and we never dreamed it! But she was _gentilissima_; _poverina_! Ah, the pity of it!"

"But how came she ill, 'because of it,' as thou sayest, Ecciva?" Eloisà questioned, wishing ever to have a reason for her beliefs; "it was long since!"

"The night of the King's flight was long since--verily--before his coronation. Carlotta was Queen, then;--there have been wars and death and woe enough since then! But this night of the signal fire is but a month agone--and _that night came Tristan de Giblet to talk with his sister_, who let him into the Palazzo Reale. The daring of the man! We are not cowards--we Cyprians!"

"Ecciva!--how canst thou verily be sure!"

She touched her eyes again, mysteriously.

"I knew him," she said, "when he was talking with his sister, and I heard her promise him to bring him into the private audience chamber of the Queen."

"And thou, also, wert there?"

"Am I the Margherita to be shown such favor? Nay, but I have an audience-chamber of my own from the window of my turret when there is no light within: and all that day I knew by the face of Alicia that there was some intrigue--which I was not one to miss through heedlessness! Alicia was watching for him that night; and I knew his face when I saw them together on the terrace. And with them was another man--wrapped in a cloak--the feather of his hat drooping low over his face.--And his face--I never turned my eyes away from him and I saw it for a moment when the wind swept his feather aside--his face was the face of--_Rizzo!_" she whispered the name.

"Nay, nay, Ecciva--not he! It could not be _he_!"

"Nay, my trusting children; believe your betters, if you will! As for me--I trust these eyes, rather than the uncertain speech of those who teach us what we _may_ believe. These eyes are good eyes! They have not failed me yet!"

She laughed lightly, satisfied with the impression her tale had made, as she turned away indifferently; but they were eager for the rest.

"There is more, Ecciva!--that which cometh after?--_subito_--for the Lady of the Bernardini might return!" They were all clamoring about her. "And Alicia verily brought him to the Queen's audience-chamber?"

"Nay--bide my time, chatterers, if you would hear the tale--for it hath a sequel--we do not often get one good enough to be spoiled by a too hasty telling.--Rizzo, for it was verily he--can any one forget Rizzo!--he turned from them and began to climb the mountain, there, where the signal fire glowed later. And Tristan, the handsome knight, came into the palace with his sister; and after them come following the holy sister Violante--she who came hither from Rhodes some days before."

"Go on!" they cried eagerly, crowding closer. She waved them away from her.

"There is no more," she answered provokingly--"save that which we all know; _the signal-fire_, and the _galley floating below by the coast, half hidden by the great rock_--for that also I saw from my turret--thanks be to the Madonna for lifting the mortal dulness! And I left sleep for better things that night; for it was well-nigh the hour of matins when the galley set sail for Venice."

"But the audience with the Queen?"

"There was no audience. For I bethought me of somewhat I had _forgotten_ in the ante-chamber--not to miss the knowledge of what was passing--and I sped me thither. And then there was naught left to do but to hide me, somewhat weak of heart, in the tapestry of the ante-chamber; for the door was wide into the Queen's salon, and there was His Excellency the Bernardini, flashing scorn in his speech, so that one thought the air would break into flames--he, the while, standing still enough for an image of a wrathful Kinyras; the Queen's guard was around him, all in full armor--a doughty corps of men to meet those three!--Alicia, white as a spirit, weeping against Tristan; and Violante, shaken out of her holy calm, kneeling to pray His Excellency's grace!"

"And then----?"

"And then they left the Queen's chamber and I dared not creep forth until all was quiet again. But I heard His Excellency's speech as he stood bowing in the doorway when the guards led Tristan forth--a model of courtesy one would have said--for I could see him through a parting in the arras though I risked my life in standing there--'Her Majesty' said the Bernardini--very fair of speech--'doth surely owe such escort to the Illustrissimo, the Seigneur de Giblet, for the attention he would fain have offered in his own person to King Janus, in his Episcopal Palace before he wore the crown of the realm.' And the Seigneur de Giblet, not to be outdone--being Cyprian--answers him--very proud and cold--'Is your Excellency ever so faithful to reward a service _contemplated, but not achieved_?' For he had meant to smother the King in his sleep that night, if Janus had not escaped to Egypt."

They were all silent until Ecciva, less overcome by these tragic memories, resumed her story.

"And after that, Tristan came no more; nor his sister, the fair Alicia; nor Rizzo, the dark-browed. Nor was it many days ere Violante, the most holy sister, had left the court.--Ask the Provveditori!"

"But what message did they bring Her Majesty?"

"Am I a noble of _Venice_ that I should know this mystery which toucheth our realm of Cyprus?" she answered scornfully. "Ask the Bernardini, or the Dama Margherita--to whom he confesseth all his soul!"

"But Rizzo?" Eloisà asked, bewildered.

"And Rizzo--when he had lighted the signal fire on the mountain--thinking perchance, there had been time for the meeting with the Queen which Alicia had promised Tristan--and the galley had come to shore beneath and waited for him,--went on board, nothing doubting, thinking to return to Rhodes--who knoweth?--To Carlotta perchance;--but he found the galley _manned with mariners from the arsenal of Venice_; and Tristan coming to set sail for Venice, with the Queen's guard, all in full armor, to speed him on his way: _and a Venetian General in command, in lieu of the African Captain of the galley who brought him hither_. For one may seek in vain to outwit a Venetian; one must admire them for that, though it work us woe!"

"It is thine own tale, verily, Ecciva; thou speakest to mock us!"

"Nay--faith of Sant'Elenà, it is true and sad enough--if there were not sadder to come. For Tristan, the gallant, handsome knight, being in chains, and fearing worse awaited him when he should reach Venice, wrenched the diamond from a ring he wore and kneaded it into the bread they served him for his breakfast, and swallowed it--and so there was an end."

They still looked at her incredulously--"How shouldst thou know this tale of horror more than others--if it were true?"

She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "If one maketh wise use of opportunity, one need not always wait the telling. But to-morrow the court will be ringing with the tale; it cometh but now from Venice."

"But Rizzo?"

"He is there in Venice in the _pozzi_; and the end will not be easy like that of Tristan. For he is the greatest traitor of them all--verily a traitor almost sublime. It were not so difficult to admire the nerve of the man!--Rizzo----"

But her further speech was lost in the babel of expostulation and question that broke forth, and which would have lasted long but for the return of Madama di Thénouris and Dama Margherita.

XXXI

The court had been recently thrown into consternation by the discovery of a plot to seize the various citadels of the island and hold them for Carlotta. It was evidently well supported and far advanced, as disclosed by the intercepted letters addressed to some unknown person, which had been laid before the Council; all who were mentioned as partisans or confidants in this intrigue were designated under assumed names, but the knowledge which these papers gave the Council was of immense value, enabling them to provide that all the garrisons of Cyprus should be commanded by men of known loyalty to the Queen. Meanwhile vigorous efforts were being made to discover the identity of the person addressed as

"_L'Illustrissima, Madama di Niuna._"

But no light had been thrown upon the matter, although it had been openly discussed in the court-circle.

Dama Margherita had noticed with uneasiness that Ecciva de Montferrat, who was usually on the alert for any excitement, had seemed singularly apathetic when this subject had been broached, and she felt that the trust reposed in her by the Admiral required her to mention her suspicions to Madama di Thénouris, although she shrank from this duty the more because she knew that Dama Ecciva was supposed to be exerting some secret influence against herself.

"Dear Madama di Thénouris," she said appealingly, "it seems so much the more ungracious on my part. Yet it is treachery to our Queen. And if it should be that Dama Ecciva hath been receiving these letters and holding such part in these intrigues--to leave her where she hath free access to the court-circle.--But it cannot be true; she is too young to be so faithless! And if she need not know that I have hinted of my fears? It would seem like some petty revenge--yet I cannot be false to my trust!"

"Thank heaven thou canst not, Margherita, since others find it easy! Yet we must watch for our own assurance, and may thy fears prove naught! Comfort thy soul, for _some_ one is guilty, and the finding of the culprit will clear all others of suspicion."

* * * * *

"It is most strange about these letters," Madama di Thénouris said later, as the young maids of honor sat around her with their embroidery frames. "Tell me, Ecciva----"

There was a sudden convulsive movement of the girl's arm and she gave an exclamation of annoyance as the golden thread snapped in her needle; but she did not look up.

Madama di Thénouris, closely watching, saw that her fingers trembled so that she could scarcely hold her needle.

"Tell me," she pursued in her leisurely fashion, after a slight pause, while Ecciva's needle still remained unthreaded, "what method shall we take to discover the identity of this unknown 'illustrissima'--this _Madama di Niuna_?"

The girl's alarm grew evidently less; but it was a moment more before she answered:

"Why doth your Excellency thus honor me, in calling me in counsel? There are others whose opinion would carry more weight."

"Nevertheless, since I have asked thee, give me thy thought."

"_Madama di Niuna_," the young maid of honor exclaimed petulantly, forgetting her deference, "there is no Madama di Niuna!--How should I know?" The silk was hopelessly knotted and twisted about the tiny pearl she had just threaded, requiring close attention; Madama di Thénouris also seemed to watch her work with interest.

"Thou art right, my child, thou art over-young to have any knowledge of so despicable an intrigue. But the matter is naturally of deep concern for us all," she added, as Ecciva, having recovered her perfect self-control lifted her eyes to Madama di Thénouris with a smile that was intended to thank her for her trust, while assuring her that there was no possible ground for supposing that she had any knowledge of this intrigue.

But the gray-haired court-lady met her gaze searchingly and with no answering smile--she who could be so gracious.

"The Council will follow a clue upon which they have just chanced, and which may lead to the discovery. If Madama di Niuna would come forward to confess," she pursued with quiet emphasis, "it might lessen the penalty for participation in this intrigue--which some among the Council tell us can be nothing less than death."

There was a murmur of abhorrence from the young voices about her, but Dama Ecciva was quite silent, although there had been a motion of her blanched lips as if to speak, and Madama di Thénouris still held her fascinated gaze. Her eyes had suddenly dilated with a look of terror, yet almost instantly reassumed their long oval shape--the lids closing to more than their narrow wont: her embroidery had slipped to the floor, as she rose, and she was treading it under her feet--bruising and grinding it passionately, as if it were some safe, unnoticed outlet to the fear and anger that might smother her. She had flung out her hands desperately, the dainty tapering fingers working with strenuous, nervous motions--but now they were tightly clenched in the rose-leaf palms, and she stood bracing herself, like a statue of defiance. There was an added pallor on the beautiful ivory face--so still she was she scarcely seemed to breathe--yet all at tension--like some wild thing of the tropical forest, suddenly brought to bay, summoning all her strength for the leap that was to free her.

But she might rage in vain against the invisible meshes that held her, although it was but for a brief moment that Madama di Thénouris had searched her soul in silent confession.

XXXII

The times were perilous, and it behooved those whose duty it was to keep the wheels of the machine sufficiently lubricated to run without over-much creaking, to see that not only were all possible precautions taken to secure the Queen's safety, but that everything that might promote the loyalty of the uncertain Cyprian nobility should be encouraged.

Some of the older Greek families lived like petty rulers within their own estates, holding absolute sway over their vassals and enforcing their allegiance at least to the point of not daring to act in opposition to whatever political views their lords might choose to adopt. Yet the fact that an old patrician was not in sympathy with the Crown was by no means an assurance of loyalty to Carlotta; it might simply mean that he was waiting to select one from among the many banners that were eager to float over his happy island of Cyprus--or that a more fervent hope possessed him of gathering to his own standard the various malcontents and of wearing, with true Cyprian magnificence, the royal honors that he craved;--as why should he not? since more than one of those ancient Cyprian families claimed kinship by marriage with the royal house of Lusignan.

Thus it had been decreed by the powers behind the throne that the seat of government should be removed to Nikosia,--the most loyal of all the cities of the realm, whose jealousy at her loss of prestige in being supplanted in this dignity by the less important city of Famagosta should be wisely taken into account; and great preparations were being made for the royal progress about to take place, by which it was hoped to stimulate an increased pride in the Government among the populace and the citizens.

Great hopes were also entertained by the Admiral Mutio di Costanzo, the Bernardini, Dama Margherita and Madama di Thénouris that the _High Court_--an institution distinctively Cyprian, which had not been held since the death of Janus, but of which a session had now been proclaimed throughout the island--would assemble a throng of nobles with their vassals and would prove a strong appeal to their loyalty.

The old Cyprian gentlewoman, Madama di Thénouris, under advice of the Admiral and the Council, had held long frank talks with the Lady of the Bernardini.

"We love our gentle Queen," she said with feeling; "and we do our possible to uphold her. But she also--she must show herself among the nobles--she must claim their loyalty. Hath she the strength to rise above her grief and try to rule? There hath been enough of mourning for the temper of this people; we must have action. We are like children--half-barbaric--more easily swayed by trifles that please us--not of such sober poise as the people of Venice; but the good Lord hath made us thus."

But Caterina was ready to do her part. "Whatever the customs of the country doth require," she answered without hesitation, "I shall have the strength, since it is for my people. Only, cara Madama di Thénouris, thou and the Zia will provide what is best--I cannot think about these things--they seem like trifles; till I grow stronger," she added timidly, in a tone of appeal.

"Nay, beloved Lady; they are but trifles; we will spare you thought of them, that the real matters may help the sooner to win your interest. But it will not be displeasing to your Majesty to see your maidens about you in robes of white--to hold a fairer memory of the infant King, in his innocence and charm, than these robes of woe?" She touched the heavy mourning folds of the Queen's garments, as she spoke.

Caterina started in surprise; but she answered in a moment, with a little effort, "Aye--it will be sweeter--mine also, cara Madama; since never can the grief be less. The Holy Mother, and my _figlio dilettissimo_--it is enough that they know. And it is for his people!"

Yet in the loneliness of the night, after she had made her last prayer at the tomb of Janus, and lighted the last taper with her own hands for him in the Duomo San Nicolò, and wept her last tears before the altar where, but a few short months ago her little son had been baptized and crowned--kneeling on the slab that bore her baby's name--the sense of desolation overpowered her.

"Even this little comfort I must lose," she cried; "Madonna mia--Janus and my boy seemed nearer here! They leave me nothing--nothing!"

But later in her own chamber, alone in the solemn stillness, deep in her heart an appeal that could not be uttered because of its intensity, her strained gaze fastened on the brilliant, star-lit skies as if she would pierce the mysteries of life and death and surprise some effluence of spirit-love--some smile of tenderness from the angel of her little child--a strange calm came to her--a dim perception of eternal values--of the nothingness of time and place--of the everlastingness of any love that has been true.--Then slowly she sank upon her knees, still looking upward, and the anguish lessened and peace and strength descended upon her soul--a gift from the holiness of the night.

It was in such vigils, since her great sorrows had come to her, that the desolate girl-queen had learned her life-lessons--and she was no longer afraid of their solemnity, coming thus into closer friendship with her own soul and a more implicit faith.

"Dear Father in Heaven!" she cried. "Thou knowest it is because I love them that I leave them, to do their life-work! and Thou wilt grant me wisdom! If but I knew--if but I knew my people's need!"

* * * * *

At that most perfect hour of early evening when the sun was sinking rapidly behind the mountains in a flood of gold and crimson glory, and the air was filled with a delicious wandering breeze, soft and refreshing after the heat of the day and laden with the perfumes of a thousand flowers, the Queen set forth upon her journey.

She was accompanied by her full court of knights and maidens, a guard of infantry and escort of cavalry, with many mounted nobles besides, to do her honor,--a sumptuous cavalcade of at least two hundred horse; with such state had the Council of the Realm thought fit to decree the royal progress. With them came forth the dignitaries of Famagosta and other nobles, as was the custom of those days in bidding a ceremonious farewell--to journey with the royal train a league beyond the city which the Queen was leaving to take up her residence in Nikosia.

And thus the cavalcade proceeded on its way, pausing anon, for the greetings of the villagers who came forth to meet them and offer homage--Caterina slow-pacing on her snow-white palfrey--six knights from among the noblest in the land in constant attendance at her bridle, giving place continually to the new group pressing forward to claim their part of this so honorable service.

They had journeyed thus for an evening and a long day, with but the needful pauses for rest and refreshment, when they saw before them in the distance, embowered in delicious gardens of palms and cypresses and rich masses of bloom, the domes and minarets of the city of Nikosia--slender and white and lace-like against the deep blue sky--and climbing the hillside, high above the city, the turrets and crenellated walls of its far-famed citadel.

The chances of travel had often brought the Signor Bernardini and Dama Margherita together, and there had been much friendly talk between them of things which both held dear and in which their hopes for the quieting of the kingdom had a large share. She was flushed and eager beyond her wont, when they first came in sight of the distant city of Nikosia, and he laid his hand upon her bridle and lowered his voice. "Let us not hasten," he said entreatingly; "the journey hath been so beautiful; and our bourne is all too near."

"Nay--not too near--for Her Majesty may well be weary."

"The Dama Margherita hath ever a thought for others," he answered her. "_And for me?_--will she not grant me to reach the bourne I covet?"

"How may I help to that of which I know nothing?" she asked inadvertently, her thoughts being full of the problems they had discussed touching the Queen: then suddenly lifting her eyes and meeting his, she turned her head away in confusion.

"Then I will make confession----" he began eagerly.