The immediate liberation of the Queen had seemed a well-nigh hopeless
quest to the body of brave men who were on their way to Famagosta, to
pledge the loyalty of their city of Nikosia, so soon as news of the
conspiracy had been proclaimed, and they had deemed it rather to be won
by strategy than prowess. For the Cyprian forces were few and were
chiefly intrenched in the fortress of Famagosta--the most formidable of
all the strongholds of Cyprus--leaving no trained men at arms in the
city itself, which thus lay unprotected, close under the vigilance of
the now hostile Citadel, whose commander, Saplana, had been a favorite
of the King but was now among the traitors. The Count of Tripoli was
foremost among the leaders of this intrigue and he was Governor of the
city of Famagosta! And scattered among this Cyprian corps to see the
orders enforced, was a band of mercenaries _brought from Naples by
Rizzo_!
The situation in Famagosta had been briefly indicated in the despatch
which the courier of Bernardini had urged his spent and panting steed to
deliver in Nikosia; there were also certain dark hints of rumors current
among the outraged populace, that Rizzo, Chief-of-the-Council appointed
to help the Queen, might soon be master of all the strongholds of the
island, having forced letters from the Queen commanding their surrender
to the envoys of the Chief-of-Council.
Outside the cities news travels slowly, as all men know. For along the
highways there are no marke-places whence it may be proclaimed--there is
no eager populace to tell it from mouth to mouth, and these treacherous
orders might even reach the forts and be obeyed in all good faith, by
their Commanders before they could have any suspicion of the revolt of
the Council.
Of the wisdom and foresight of the Queen's Venetian Chamberlain the
Admiral had ample proof; since the Bernardini's message of alarm, sent
the night before the mutiny, had arrived only a few hours before it had
been followed by his second despatch, in swift and terrible
justification.
Because of these rumors Mutio di Costanzo, Admiral of Cyprus, had
ordered messages of warning sent to the chief citadels, as he had been
able, before he left Nikosia; and also because of them, he rode to-day
with a so scanty following not having dared to leave any points of
vantage without sufficient guard.
He turned and surveyed his little band of Knights with frowning
brows--his invincible Knights of the Golden Spurs--they seemed so few in
the face of the perplexities of his problem.
Not that any thought of personal danger for himself or for them, in the
few against the many, entered into his difficulties; but that the facts
made failure a possibility; and there must be no failure.
He raised his visor and each man saw his leader's face as the face of a
conqueror.
"_Coraggio_, Signori!" he cried; "our cause is just! God and San
Giovanni make strong our arms!"
Well might he be proud of this noble company pressing forward silently,
but with quickening pace, at sight of the urgency in their leader's
face.
No noble house of Cyprus could boast more ancient lineage, nor so many
knights entitled to wear the golden spurs, nor more honorable trophies
of the valor dear to knightly hearts. They rode all in full armor, some
bearing their famous shields of crimson with the quaint heraldic lion
rampant on his golden bar--the device which all men knew had been
granted them for extraordinary proof of prowess centuries before.
For this noble family the ancient city of Costanza had been named; and
the quaint church of Santa Maria di Costanza, rich in relics and in
decoration, had been the private chapel of their historic Castle.
To the assuring rhythm of their strenuous tramp the Admiral turned again
to his unsolved problems. For the galleys of Cyprus had hitherto been
kept armed by force, but recently their crews had been disbanded, in
obedience to a strange clause in the will of King Janus. Now, as Mutio
di Costanzo went on his way, wrapped in meditations that were not
cheering, the question came to him--"_Why?_"
Janus, whatever his gifts, had been no judge of men--possibly from too
strong reliance in his own power to conquer them by his personal charm.
Had this disbanding been deftly suggested to the facile King by his
friend, the arch-schemer of Naples?
Was the wily Rizzo, even in those days, planning to leave Cyprus
defenceless?
The Admiral gnashed his teeth and sent up a smothered cry to all the
saints that his wrath might not unnerve him to the point of losing his
iron grip upon himself.
But the situation was not rendered less galling by the reflection that
the port of Famagosta--the sole harbor of importance in the island--was
covered by the citadel commanded by a traitor; that just within the port
a galley flaunting the colors of Naples, rode complacently; and that
there were no longer any Cyprian ships-of-war ready for attack.
But retribution must be near; for he knew that Bernardini had sent
warning followed by immediate details of the revolt, by secret
messengers, concealed in trading-ships to the Venetian fleet off the
African coast, and strong help must be at hand. To risk failure by a
premature attack, for want of patience to endure a temporary disgrace,
would be unmanly weakness. The Madonna be praised, the Chamberlain of
the Queen was a man of resource; the people of the cities were devoted
to her, and the end might be nearer than seemed possible.
The Admiral was impatient for the conference with Bernardini who had
implored him to come without delay.
"At all hazards we shall hold the city-gate," the Chamberlain had
written in the first hours of that dark dawn. "With citadel and port in
command of the traitors and the Queen in their keeping, this post may
have no importance in their eyes. _But our help must come from
without._"
And now the little band of faithful knights were coming in sight of the
city-walls--massive and splendid--a monument to the Lusignans.
"For our Queen and Cyprus!" the Admiral said solemnly, his hand upon his
sword.
The tone of the utterance made it a command.
"So help us God our Seigneur, and San Giovanni!" the knights answered
him in a breath, nerving themselves to attack and success: but they came
silently and with no sounds of battle--by order of their chief--not
knowing whether to expect welcome or conflict, or whether secrecy might
be well.
At the tramp of their horses' feet the warden had advanced to the grille
of reconnoitre and withdrawn the small stone shutter for inspection; his
head appeared behind the bars, but he wore no tell-tale colors:
"Open! in the name of the Queen! to Her Majesty's faithful vassals!"
The Admiral spoke low--for secrecy might be the very discretion of
valor: but fearlessly, for the words were a signal, and every knight
stood ready.
"Who challengeth? Speak low."
Was it the word of caution, or a ruse de guerre?
"One of Nikosia."
The Admiral gave the password which Bernardini had sent in that hasty
note, and listened, trembling as a brave man may with impatience to be
within and at his post of duty, while one by one the bolts were
withdrawn, the portcullises were raised, and the signal to advance was
given--quite silently: the finger of the guard who had been detailed to
accompany them, was upon his lips.
Not until he had conducted them beyond, into the city, did he speak: "We
know not what echoes there may be within those walls," he said, pointing
back to the ponderous gateway with its many vaulted passages.
Then impatient, the Admiral asked for news.
"Your Excellencies are expected: the citizens await you:" it was said in
a tone that meant more than courtesy: Mutio di Costanzo scanned him
narrowly.
"From whom dost hold thy orders?" he asked.
"From the Signor Bernardini, commander of the city," the man answered
readily.
"Then speak."
"The Signor Bernardini hath this night rescued our infant Prince from
the galley of Naples----" He supplemented the statement with an angry
oath coupled with Rizzo's name. "We know not where our Signor hath
hidden him."
"And the Queen?"
The guard shook his head.
"The Signor hath waited for help to come: it is said that her rescue
will be this day. In the Palazzo Reale the guard hath been trebled for
her defense, and every man would give his life for the Queen."
"Is there more?"
"Aye, your Excellency: rumor hath it that that devil of a Rizzo hath
forced Her Majesty to give him letters of surrender for every fortress
of Cyprus, and that to-day he is gone, with other traitors, to receive
the keys of all our citadels. _Panagia mou!_ he is capable of every
treachery! If he were not within----" He indicated the fortress with a
scowl of hatred, then made a motion which seemed to include the entire
city and plant the people, resolute, before the windows of the Queen.
"And the Governor of Famagosta?"
"That traitor Tripoli is in the train of the scoundrel Rizzo, both
faring forth for other treacheries, thinking us safe enough to leave,
with those spies of Naples on guard." His sputtering curses choked
further speech.
"It shall be _now_," said Mutio di Costanzo: "conduct us to the Signor
Bernardini"--yet wondering at the silence of the streets as he passed.
"Your Excellency," said the guard once more, in answer to his question,
"it is the order of the Bernardini who hath commanded quiet and hath
promised, on his life, to restore the Queen to her people."
The hasty conference in the Palazzo Reale, developed the fact that the
citizens of Famagosta, too furious for any considerations of expediency,
had been with difficulty restrained from storming the Citadel and
demanding the Queen's instant release: and now that any trained force,
however small, was upon their side, the critical moment had come. Men,
women and children flocked into the deserted streets and eagerly
followed the cavalcade of Knights to the Piazza San Nicolo, where the
crowd was increasing every moment; and when Bernardini and Mutio di
Costanzo appeared among them, they were greeted with cheers and vivas.
"Regina!"
"Madonna Nostra Reale!"
"Regina!"
"_Subito! Subito!_"
The cries startled the silence of the streets, and further restraint was
impossible.
* * * * *
"_Regina! Madonna Nostra Reale! Subito!_"
The city rang with their shouts--the voice of a multitude magnificent in
righteous emotion--from the gruff tones of the men of the populace
hoarse with anger, to the strident cries and sobs of the women and the
high treble of little children; and clear and calm throughout the
chorus, the clarion-notes of command.
The mighty sound penetrated to the depths of the Citadel, waking the
Cyprian force from its stupor of despondency, rousing the dormant
manhood within them.
It reached the chamber of the captive Queen, who had known no thrill of
hope since that night of horror.
"My God! my God!" she cried, with streaming eyes. "I thank
thee!--_Madonna mia Sanctissima!_ My people are calling for me!"
* * * * *
"In the name of Her Majesty!"
"Surrender command to the Admiral of Cyprus!"
To no mighty force could those strong bars have been more swiftly
withdrawn; nor was there need of contest to displace the trembling
guards of Naples, as the men of Cyprus within the fort hastened to obey
the mandate from without, saluting as the massive gates creaked upon
their hinges and protesting that further haste had been impossible.
"Let every traitor crave mercy!" the Admiral thundered as he crossed the
drawbridge with his cavalcade: "and on your knees crave pardon of your
outraged Queen as we descend."
"Signori!"--to the Knights of the Golden Spurs--"await us here--none
less loyal may stand on guard."
* * * * *
To-day the entire armament of the fortress was less than of wont; for
Rizzo and Tripoli, secure in their victory and confident that there
would be no uprising since none had yet been attempted, had not
hesitated to take a considerable following with them to secure the
surrender of the other citadels of Cyprus "_by order of the Queen_." For
was not Rizzo the happy holder of many pretty bits of parchment signed
by the hand of "Caterina Regina" herself and attested by the royal
signet of Cyprus--which to disobey was treason? It would be a pretty
farce to insist upon the potency of that trembling signature wrested
from the captive Queen when she had worn no semblance of power--a farce
to which the Neapolitan schemer was fully equal.
None but a man who knew the famous stronghold of Famagosta so intimately
as did the Admiral of Cyprus could thus quickly have made sure that the
surrender was complete and that no secret reserves of men and arms were
kept back for further intrigues. To swear in those who would stand for
Cyprus--to banish the mercenaries of Naples and all who were in
sympathy with them to the dungeons below--to make sure of the color of
the guards at port and passage--was not so much longer in the doing than
in the telling.
And yet, to the young Queen and Margherita the moments had seemed hours:
they stood close together; straining every faculty to interpret the
meaning of the commotion below, within the fortress, alternating between
hope and fear as, at intervals, the cries of the people reached them
from the piazza, indistinct and broken by the thickness of the walls;
now and again a fierce imprecation rising above the tumult--yet surely
there were tones of loyalty--voices calling for "Caterina Regina!"
Caterina's strength was well-nigh spent--she had suffered so much; she
caught the hand of Margherita in agitation as the tramp of footsteps
echoed through the corridor nearing the door of her chamber, and
Margherita laid her other hand on Caterina's with an almost maternal
tenderness, from the great pity within her.
"Beloved Lady!" she cried reassuringly; "they bring us glad tidings."
For she read it in their faces as the Bernardini and Mutio di Costanzo
knelt in the low doorway to offer their homage.
But the young Queen seemed to tremble between life and death as she
stretched forth her arms to them with a low wail that almost unnerved
those strong faithful men.
"My Boy! My Boy!--your Prince!"
How may joy immeasurable be told in an instant's space, and one
schooled to agony not die from the swift change to such rapture of
content!
For the Bernardini had answered her: "Safe in the Palazzo Reale: and the
people are clamoring for their Queen!"
And because the Dama Margherita had seen the great shining light in his
eyes her heart went out to him, and she knew that the safety of the
Royal infant meant a tale of loyalty and danger that Aluisi Bernardini
would never tell.
* * * * *
But at last the Admiral and the Bernardini led Caterina forth into the
piazza, pale and calm--the glory of a great gladness in her eyes--the
suffering which had left deep traces in her face disguised by the
exaltation of the moment so that she scarcely seemed less radiant than
when she had last stood there on the day of the coronation fete with her
child in her arms--as any woman of the people might have done, the
tender, baby-cheek pressed close to hers.
Some of them remembered it as they fell on their knees around her,
kissing her hands, offering her homage--reparation--sobbing out their
devotion:
"Regina! Madonna Nostra Reale! Regina! Regina! May the Holy Mother bless
her and our little King!"
She was not a thing of State and jewels, cold and distant like the proud
Queen Elena, but a tender human mother, fair and young, and her heart
had been all but broken when that wicked Chief of Council had stolen
away the child!--the people might gather close about her and weep and
rejoice with her.
"_Madonna Nostra Reale!_"
The air was still ringing with the loyal shouts of the multitude when
Vettore Soranzo with that eagerly expected Venetian fleet, weighed
anchor in the port of Famagosta and with his men streamed through the
unresisting gates of the Fortress into the Piazza San Nicolo, where the
young Queen still stood radiant.
* * * * *
With the holy calm of night peace brooded over the distracted city and
the Cyprian stars looked down on the old, sweet story of mother and
child--as closely clasped beneath the gilded roof of the royal palace as
under the thatch of a peasant shed--smiling, forgetful of the days of
anguish that had parted them.