The pageant had been brilliant, as one may read in the chronicles of the
time.
Even the Queen of the Adriatic, in all her pride, could offer little to
surpass the splendor of this great esplanade by the sea where the review
had been held. The pavement of costly mosaic stretched along the coast,
guarded by the lofty tower which jutted out upon the sea; while the
other side of this unusual piazza was dominated by the famous Citadel
which climbed the steep acclivity with intricate windings of crenellated
walls, dotted with sentry towers where banners were floating. In that
clear atmosphere distance was not appreciable, and the castellated
slopes seemed to lead up to the highest peak of the Troodos, whose
snow-crowned summit flashed its crystal against the deep blue of the
Cyprian sky.
The massive walls of modern Famagosta skirted the esplanade, and above
their mighty bulwark rose the domes and pinnacles of her palaces and
churches--a city of delight. There were strange monuments breaking the
sky-line; there were statues and fountains gleaming in the sunlight;
there were hedges of rose and myrtle outlining the terraced gardens on
the hill-slopes, where rioted all manner of fruits and bloom: back of
them the vineyards of Varoschia--lemons, burning like topaz against the
dark thatch of their glossy leaves, and near them the thin gray of the
olive-trees, outlining with pale shadow the forests that spread to the
mountains.
Vast vases of stone looked down from the heights in grotesque
shapes--serpents coiled, thrusting out their tongues tipped with rubies,
with glaring emeralds for eyes: and below them, deep cut in the living
rock and blazoned so that one might read them from afar, the arms of the
kingdom--as if sacred pythons, terrible and fierce, kept watch above the
harbor for the honor of the realm.
And far off, against that wonderful mountain background, a colossal
marble lion stood guard over the ruins of the city that slept upon the
coast below--with demoniac, fiery eyes of flashing jewels, striking
terror to the souls of mariners who might have wandered with
sacrilegious feet among those crumbling tombs and temples in search of
buried treasure.
For this buried city on the coast was the ancient city of Salamis, and
famed for her magnificence--the _Famagosta Vecchia_ which had furnished
many a stately column and intricately wrought carving to enrich the
modern city to which Janus had transferred the capital of his kingdom.
Half-buried fragments of palaces and tombs and temples reached far along
the coast, giving the touch of pathos and historic interest: and about
them swept the broken circles of the splendid aqueduct which, in the
days long past, had gathered the waters of the mountain streams to
furnish the countless fountains and cisterns of Salamis. Great palms had
sprung up in the fissures of the massive, grass-grown arches, and vines
trailed draperies of beauty over their decay--and so they stood, a
monument to the past, challenging the dwellers of the modern city to a
labor so needful for the public weal.
The port was gay with trading ships and colors of many lands; but Mutio
di Costanzo studied it with frowning brows, noting only the absence of
his own galleys of Cyprus, which lay, unmanned in the dock-yards by
order of King Janus the Second! And before them, where he turned his
gaze, still frowning, on the silver of the sea rode the galleys of the
fleet of Venice--decked with the banners of San Marco and of Cyprus.
Caterina, under her canopy, with all her court about her in fullest
state, had received the homage of the people, as she passed her forces
in review, her cheek tingling with honest pleasure at their enthusiastic
greeting. The little Prince had been beside her, crowing his delight at
the music, the motion, the noise, the color, in most unkingly fashion,
quite unconscious that the storied jewel of his realm--the great ruby
that Peter the Valiant had received as the tribute of a conquered
Eastern city, glittering in the lace of his infant-cap, by way of royal
insignia--demanded a regal bearing.
The presentation to the Mocenigo of the golden shield, richly inlaid
with the arms of Cyprus, had made a pretty scenic episode, quite worthy
of dramatic Venice.
For Mutio di Costanzo also, and for the Bernardini, there had been
demonstrations, as Dama Ecciva had foretold: but the Lady Margherita de
Iblin had noticed with uneasiness, that whereas it was a time when the
people, high and low, should have assembled to testify their loyalty and
affection, the crowd was chiefly composed of burghers and peasants from
the hamlets in city neighborhoods, and that many of the old Cyprian
nobles with their tenantry were conspicuously absent. And since the
death of Janus, some of those who had formerly been in attendance at
court, had rarely shown themselves there.
Dama Margherita spoke of this afterwards to the Admiral, for he had
asked for some private conversation with her in her boudoir, when the
ceremonies should be over.
"What mean these absences?" she asked, when they had bemoaned the
situation.
"Venice is feared, not loved," he answered her.
But she was unwilling to confess that she understood him, having a pride
in her land and love for her Queen.
"Pardon, your Excellency," she said, "we were speaking of Cyprus."
He passed the interruption by as unworthy, being greatly in earnest.
"And the Queen--a very lovely young woman--is a mere figurehead--a pawn
to be moved at the discretion of the higher powers."
"Then, my Lord, it should be seen to that she hath a Council competent
to advise," the Lady Margherita retorted with ready indignation,
"instead of a horde of traitors."
Her voice took on a higher key in her excitement, and the Admiral laid
his hand lightly on her arm to quiet her.
"Dear Dama Margherita," he said, "we have been in conference with His
Excellency the Signor Mocenigo--a very remarkable mind--and the
Provveditore Vettore Soranzo; and the vacancies in Her Majesty's Council
have been filled with men, whom may Heaven keep more loyal!--But _why_
did not the Counts of the Chamber rise up in eager demonstration of
interest to put their best men in those vacant seats? And why--are we
quite safe to discuss it here?--_why_ did we--having her interests at
heart--not dare to ask the great nobles whom we wished to reach, to take
those places?"
"It is because of Janus, who hath been heedless and unfair?" she asked
reflecting. "For verily the people love the Queen."
"Let us not deceive ourselves out of our very loyalty. The citizens and
the nearer peasants hold her in love and reverence: but those of the
larger _casals_ and fiefs--the ancient nobles, have the power; and few
of these are in her court. I would it were otherwise."
"It is something, your Excellency, to have won the love of the simpler
folk as no Queen of this land hath ever done before," the Lady
Margherita said staunchly.
"It is something, but not all," he answered; "the nobles are as much to
be taken into consideration as the poorer classes. It is not all," he
repeated with emphasis. "One may win from sympathy--but one must rule a
kingdom by power. And the Queen--God help her!--is a charming child."
"My Lord!"
"A charming child--with a heart developed and matured like a saint; but
with a mind untrained to intrigue, unsuspicious of jealousies,
unconscious of any injustice wrought by her husband, not apt to
comprehend, perhaps, any grievance of the nobles----"
"May we not help her?" Dama Margherita interrupted eagerly. "She would
give back the fiefs if she knew that they had been misplaced--that any
right had been violated. And now--after these confiscations----"
"Aye, there are more lands to satisfy their demands, it is true. But in
their pride they might refuse--let her not wonder at it, nor cease from
her courtesies. The nobles are rather sullen than overt in their
discontent. They do not want Venetian galleys in their waters--though
they must welcome them--nor to do homage to a Venetian for the gift of
their own lands. And the restoration is less simple than was the
confiscation. For temporary lords have been created and these remain to
be reckoned with--even if the will were there."
"I am sure, your Excellency, that the will would not be lacking if this
matter were understood; for Her Majesty is fair and generous, and eager
to do all her duty by her people. It is of them, and never of herself,
that her heart is full."
The old Knight looked at her with kindling eyes as he raised her hand to
his lips with the gallantry of the time; yet retaining it in his own and
petting it in fatherly fashion, for she had been his daughter's friend
from childhood.
"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 Thenouris and the Lady of the Bernardini; but Madama di Thenouris
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 Thenouris is of our private council," he added, to her
immense relief, as he left her.