The Royal Pawn of Venice Part 7

She looked up, a smile transforming her grave, dark face and deep, sad eyes; the rare sweetness and directness of the young Queen's nature had already won her reverent love: but suddenly, as the Lady Margherita looked at her she grew aware of the unsuspected fund of strength beneath the gracious girlish exterior, realizing that the spring of her actions would be in true n.o.bility--not in selfish pleasure. Might not some good for her dear land come from the enlightened love of its youthful Queen?

Yet she hesitated to bring any shadow into the life which had seemed all sunshine during these few months of bridal festivity, and the Queen was young to look at life through such serious eyes. But she had asked, and the King, who was still a lover, might be steadied by his wife's influence.

Caterina put out her hand in response to the smile and clasped that of Margherita.

"It is for your Majesty to command silence or speech," the Cyprian maid-of-honor said tentatively, as Caterina still held silence. "Yet, if it be speech, I pray your Majesty to remember that it is not I, who am the cause, if my page of history should offend. If I must speak, it can only be what I believe to be truth."

"It is only those who speak truth, my Margherita, of whom one may trust the friendship," Caterina answered gravely. "And I have chosen thee for my friend."

A deep flush colored the Cyprian's ivory cheek as she knelt and kissed the queen's hand in acknowledgment; for the reticent maid had opened her heart, with unwonted warmth, to the appeal of the rare simplicity and force of her liege lady's gentle nature.

"I would rather _know_, than fear I know not what," Caterina pursued.

"Our most Reverend and beloved Patriarch of Venice hath given me this talisman to help me in my new land," there was a little pathetic lingering on the words, which touched her listener, "'Seek to know the truth concerning _all_ thy people. And tell thy perplexity, if there be any, to Christ and the Madonna.' I would know that I may help the King,"

the young wife pleaded.

IX

And now, by the Queen's command which might not be denied, the talk flowed through the days of leisure during the absence of the King, while Caterina strolled with her Cyprian maid of honor through the terraced gardens in the cool of the evening, or rested in the heat of the day, in the shaded apartments of the _voto_. The girl-queen listened with breathless eagerness to the strange revelations, often interrupting with pa.s.sionate exclamations, for her short taste of Cyprian life had been so colored with the glamour of love and happiness and the excitement of her novel surroundings that the vague forebodings which were beginning to temper the brilliancy had suggested no serious shadows.

In vain Donna Margherita pleaded that she might be allowed to put the theme aside, as she told of the disaffection of some of the ancient n.o.bles of Cyprus who had been despoiled of vast estates because of their sympathy with Queen Carlotta. "But Ja.n.u.s was ever generous," said Margherita, "and none of their riches went into the King's treasury, but always into the hands of those n.o.bles who were loyal to the new Government."

_The new Government! Queen Carlotta!_ The young Venetian's hot resentment rose fiercely against the Republic which had left her in such ignorance of Cyprian matters while she turned her proud young head away that Margherita might not guess how little the name of Carlotta had meant for her.

"Tell me more of Carlotta--tell me everything," she commanded, steadied by her quick resolve to know and endure whatever the past might hold for her; and Margherita, who had been watching her with strange intuition, knew that she might hold nothing back, as she also knew that the young Queen had been kept in absolute ignorance of the complications preceding the accession of Ja.n.u.s. But it was impossible for Caterina to conceal the play of her angry emotions as the tale progressed, and she frankly gave up the attempt. Ja.n.u.s--her beautiful Ja.n.u.s--the idol of the old King--_not_ the legal heir to the throne! Ja.n.u.s, in his boyhood, hated, thwarted, intrigued against--living in very fear of his life!

"Nay!" Margherita a.s.sured her with glowing eyes, "he knew not the color of fear, for he had the heart of a King!"

Then Caterina drew her close and gave her a pa.s.sionate kiss, in seal of a friendship that was never to be broken.

"He had need to be brave," Margherita went on when she could command her voice, for the Queen's great eyes were beseeching, "for Queen Elena cared not how he should be put out of the way so that he might not interfere with her absolute sway nor with the holding of the Crown by her daughter Carlotta, when old King Ja.n.u.s should die."

So this was why, by Queen Elena's command, the dashing, masterful boy of fifteen had been created Archbishop of Cyprus--in the hope that the honors of the Church might absorb his powers and keep the wish for his succession out of the thoughts of the people who idolized him! This holding of the Primacy had been a mystery to Caterina, who, dearly as she loved her hero, knew him to be no saint. But, whatever the rights of Carlotta--who had been left Queen by her father's will (and insistent questions thrust themselves into the thoughts of Caterina while she listened, zealous to escape no detail)--it was evident that Margherita's sympathies went out to Ja.n.u.s.

"He hath more the quality of the Lusignans--to whom the De Iblin were ever loyal," she explained to Caterina, "and Carlotta is like her mother. Ja.n.u.s was first to offer his homage to his sister, pleading that as children of one father there might be truce and loving intercourse between them; but he was refused admittance to the Royal Palace; denied his right, as Primate of Cyprus, to preside at the coronation and commanded to remain within his palace during the ceremony, _lest the love of the people should acclaim him King_. But the crown of Carlotta fell from her head as she returned in stately procession to the palace,"

Margherita exclaimed, crossing herself devoutly--"so one might know that her reign should not be happy!"

"And then?" Caterina questioned, impatiently.

"Ah, yes, your Majesty, there was more; for our brave Ja.n.u.s had been gentle withal, but for ceaseless outrage that forced him to forswear his oath of loyalty. His revenues were withheld: he was beguiled to a banquet in the palace of a high officer of the crown where poisoned meats were set before him, but here, as in many another intrigue, the watchful love of the beautiful Maria da Patras--his unhappy mother--saved his life. Poor lady! she watched and prayed for him, and had no other thought.

"One knows not how--but she always knew--as if some spirit had told her!" Margherita continued in a tone of awe, after a moment's silence.

"For none but she had dreamed the great Sir Tristan traitor to his trust, he who came of the n.o.ble house of De Giblet and was keeper of the Episcopal Palace and on guard at night! Yet once it befell that Sir Tristan came stealthily into the sleeping chamber of the prince, and the pages of the night who stand at arms beside the couch had fallen to the pavement, heavy with some strange sleep. But Donna Maria had watched and warned and our Ja.n.u.s was already stealing far on his way to Alexandria, when Sir Tristan drew aside the curtains and plunged his dagger deep into the ma.s.s of pillows which in the darkness wore some semblance of a sleeping form. It was told that he howled with rage at such childish thwarting, for Donna Maria had men at hand who came running at the outcry and took Sir Tristan into safe keeping."

"Madre Sanctissima!" Caterina exclaimed in her excitement, and urging the recital with a quick motion of her hand.

"It was the last time, sweet Lady, that our Ja.n.u.s might feel Carlotta's power; for soon he returned from Alexandria to take possession of Cyprus by order of the Sultan, our Suzerain, upheld by his armies and his treasure. For the charm of the Prince had won their hearts; the circ.u.mstance of his birth and a woman's rights were of small account in the estimation of the Sultan, and the march of our young King from his landing to his capital was a victory--the people kneeling in his pathway--wild with the joy of welcome."

Margherita had told the tale with eloquence, her breath coming quickly, her color rising, but Caterina was fairly startled by the dramatic ring in her voice as she told how Carlotta, at the last moment, finding further resistance impossible, had sent an envoy to Ja.n.u.s to promise him the revenues of his See, once more, if he would but lay down his arms and renew his allegiance. But the magnificent amba.s.sador from Alexandria, whom the Sultan had sent with Ja.n.u.s to see his will enforced, made reply:

"It is the will of my master--the Sultan of Sultans, the Lord of lords, the King of kings--that Ja.n.u.s, prince of Cyprus, should reign as King; and my master, the Sultan of sultans, will acknowledge no other sovereign."

Then, suddenly, Caterina felt that she could bear no more; she must be alone to think, and she held up her hand to entreat silence. How tender she would be to him on whom such cruelty had been wreaked--how loving--to make amends for all the hatred of the past! How brave he was, her true knight--how forgiving--to have told her nothing of all this tragedy! It was not strange that his people loved him so--his people who had thronged upon his pathway with acclamation and greeting! Her heart beat high with adoring love and her eyes filled with happy tears.

"My Ja.n.u.s!" she cried, and then again, "my Ja.n.u.s," she whispered softly, filling the syllables with a wealth of tenderness and sympathy. She felt that she could not wait until he should come again; these few days had seemed so long!

But her elation pa.s.sed and a sense of overwhelming disaster possessed her. "The Senate had known it all--the Senate had told her nothing--_nothing about Carlotta_. Why had they not named her--was it because--because----?"

And then the questionings that had come to her hastily and been lost in the recital of the perils and escapes of one so beloved came back with renewed force and would not be quieted, but called out for an answer.

When Ja.n.u.s came she would ask him--in her staunch fair soul, she knew that she _must_ ask him, though he might be angry and the bare thought of this made her shrink and quail--it even shadowed a little the pleasure of his longed-for coming--for he had always been so knightly to her. But yet, she could not wait! A great horror came over her of the old Queen, who had been painted as without principle and of wild pa.s.sions--shrinking from nothing so that she might gain her will, and she was glad in her soul that Elena was not the mother of her Ja.n.u.s, while she struggled with her Venetian pride and promised herself to be the truer to him for his wrongs. And so the night wore on; and between her longing and her trouble there was no sleep for her while the day delayed.

A vague shape of terror seemed to hover between her and her vision of the future that had been so golden. Where was Carlotta? Might she not come again and strive to win back her crown? Were the n.o.bles many who would uphold her?

Nay; but it was Ja.n.u.s whom the people loved--Ja.n.u.s! who had been crowned their king, with all solemn ceremony in Alexandria, by order of the Suzerain of Cyprus--to oppose him was rebellion! Ja.n.u.s--her beloved--so winsome, so masterful! Then, slowly out of the darkness rose the n.o.ble face of Lorenzo the Giustinian, full of quiet and strength--her mother's face, loving, comforting--both asking her best of her; and the Question grew in her soul. "Perhaps Carlotta's right was greater--_could it be greater_ than her husband's?"

X

All day the queen had been restless and depressed, starting at the sound of a footfall only to drop her eyes again in disappointment and relapse into unquiet revery; the weight of empire hung heavily upon her girlish spirit and she was unutterably lonely in the absence of Ja.n.u.s which seemed so unduly prolonged. It was the latest day that he had named for his possible absence, and still no courier had come to announce his return.

The noon had been unusually sultry, the stifling heat of the upper chambers oppressed her and the ceaseless, rasping whir of the cicala smote her with weariness, but she resisted the attempt of her ladies to detain her in the cooler atmosphere of the _voto_, for in these underground chambers she could have no sight of the great plain beyond the boundaries of the palace-gardens--and she preferred remaining in the halls that overlooked the terraces--turning her eyes often in the direction of the forest.

It was like a pall upon them all to see their young mistress, usually so gracious and responsive, wholly absorbed in her troubled revery; but to-day her maidens played their sweetest strains upon their silvery lutes, without her answering smile; the gentlemen of her court sought in vain for some diversion to distract her; even the Lady Margherita could do nothing for her pleasure, while she watched in un.o.btrusive tenderness, feeling that quiet, however unsatisfying, was more welcome than speech.

The pages, at a sign from the Lady Margherita, had dipped their fronds of feather in the great vases of mountain-snow that stood between the columns, and waved them about the chamber; the queen followed their movements with a fleeting smile as this breath of coolness reached her, then fixed her eyes again, with a despairing look, upon the distant forest.

"She wearieth for the King," her maidens said low to each other, "and verily he may come to-night, for the days have already numbered more than he giveth of wont to the chase."

"She is not like herself," the Lady Ecciva de Montferrat whispered to her young Venetian companion, Eloisa Contarini, as the company strolled out upon the terraces at a sign from the Lady Beata Bernardini whose loving motherly eyes saw that Caterina needed rest and solitude. "She is strange and pale to-day--like one who hath seen a vision." Lady Ecciva spoke with deep seriousness, for superst.i.tion was a vital part of the Cyprian nature, belonging alike to peasant and n.o.ble.

"How meanest thou--_a vision_?" Eloisa questioned, startled.

The other turned to see that they were not followed and answered in an awe-struck tone: "_The vision of the Melusina--the fate of the Lusignans!_ Didst thou not hear her shriek from the Castle of Lusignan in the dead of night?"

"_The Melusina?_ Ecciva, who is _the_ '_Melusina_?'"

"She is the evil genius of the House of Lusignan," Ecciva explained to her excited companion, "all Cyprus knoweth that when the Melusina crieth three times from the towers of the ancient Chateau of Lusignan, in far France, it meaneth death, or some great misfortune to a ruler of this house."

"And thou--didst hear this lamentation verily, Ecciva? I should have died from fear!"

"Yea, thou being from Venice--not knowing that it bodeth not harm for thee--it is misfortune only for some ruler of their house of Lusignan."

"And that is naught to thee!" the Venetian girl exclaimed in astonishment. "Thy King--is he nothing to thee?"