For the first time since the death of Janus, the magnificent hall of the
Upper Court in the Palace of the Assizes was filled with a noble
assembly of Cyprian patricians who came in state, each with his train of
vassals, who were also privileged to enter the great judgment hall and
witness the imposing ceremony of the opening of the Court. Each baron
wore at the point of his lance the small square banner with the device
and color of his ancestral house and the motto, "_Cour, Coin, Justice_,"
which was the privilege of his class, signifying that he was entitled to
receive homage and tribute from his vassals--his _hommes liges_ and his
serfs, and to render judgment upon their minor causes.
The long arcaded corridors leading out to the court-yards of the palace
were thronged with serfs in attendance upon the knights and barons, and
with citizens who had no seat of right in the assembly; and beyond, from
the court-yards, came the sound of the champing of steeds impatient for
the voice of their masters and chafing under the unwelcome restraint of
their attendants, who kept up a ceaseless babel of adjuration and
coaxing.
Every noble of Cyprus in sympathy with the present Government was
waiting with his vassals and suites in splendid array to pay his homage
to the young Queen, who now first since the death of her child was to
appear among them at a high function; there were others who, uncertain
or careless of their sentiments had responded to the urgent invitation
of the Council of the Realm, from no stronger motive than a mild
curiosity; and possibly a few had come with a wrathful determination to
find something to condemn in the bearing of the Queen that might
stimulate an organized opposition.
Between the splendid shafts of the monoliths that rose like a Cyprian
forest from the polished marble pavement, a vast company of the
hierarchy of Cyprus--Greek, Latin, and Armenian, in rich sacerdotal
vestments--were waiting to take part in the solemn ceremonial; for the
royal white-robed procession had already ascended the steps of the dias
where the newly appointed Archbishop of Nikosia would offer his prayer
of consecration and receive the pledge of the Queen faithfully to uphold
the laws of the Realm.
The majestic martial music to which the procession had moved had
diminished to a dim, melodic undertone, over which the prayer of the
Primate rose and fell in swift, rhythmic periods--a litany of ascription
and petition, to which the people, standing with faces towards the East
and with outstretched hands, responded full-voiced.
O Thou, God over all, great in Majesty and power, to Thee we ascribe all
praise!
_To Thee we ascribe all praise!_
O Thou, Lord of lords and King of kings, grant to Caterina, Sovereign of
this Realm, grace and wisdom to rule her people.
_Grace and wisdom to rule her people!_
And grant to her, O Giver of all good, Thy benediction, with gladness!
_Thy benediction, with gladness!_
O Thou, Creator of Life and Immortality, Lord of the living and of the
dead, grant that the soul of thy servant Janus may rest in peace!
_May rest in peace!_
O Thou, Holy and Ineffable, around whose throne the pure souls of
sinless little ones float as an effluence of Thy love, grant to the soul
of our infant King, Thy joy perpetual.
_Thy joy perpetual!_
O Thou, supreme in justice, Ruler of all rulers and Judge of all men,
grant to the rulers of this Court wisdom, that they may judge
righteously!
_That they may judge righteously!_
Yet, O Eternal Father, Thou who art merciful, grant us to temper
judgment with mercy.
_Judgment with mercy!_
Thou, who art Everlasting Truth, grant us to be true.
_Grant us to be true!_
And then, while the Archbishop was standing with hands outspread in
benediction over the kneeling throng, the music of a wonderful, rhythmic
_Amen_, oft repeated, thrilled and throbbed from arch to arch.
* * * * *
How cruel the changes that had swept the island-kingdom since the last
High Court had assembled in this Council-Chamber! Their young and
charming monarch, in the very exuberance of life, had been summoned
without warning to lay it down. His little child, the hope of the realm,
had come and passed as swiftly as some fair vision of the night, leaving
scarcely a trace of his short earthly career save in the heart of the
mother where its every memory would be cherished deathlessly. And for
their fair young Queen, who stood among them widowed and childless--in
lieu of the fulfilment of the radiant hopes which had brought her
hither, there had been a pitiful record of conspiracy, betrayal and
captivity.
These memories smote upon the nobler souls in the throng, moving them to
compassion and admiration; for what knight among them could more bravely
have borne such suffering and thwarting?
But Caterina, in trailing garments glistening like the snows of Troodos,
stood like a queenly lily among her white-robed maids of honor, exalted
by the solemnity of the service and looking deep into the heart of her
life-problems--ignoring self and contests--dreaming only of duty and the
achievement that her people's love might render possible.
They had feared to see her in mourning robes, with a woful court about
her,--trembling, sorrow-weighted, pitiful and unimpressive; and a low
murmur of admiration just stirred the hush of the chamber as she took
her place under the royal canopy and turned to confront the great
assembly--the strength of suffering and resolve in the beautiful
unsmiling face, which yet seemed to promise and crave for love--to plead
with them for their allegiance.
She stood so for a moment, quite still; then she stretched out both arms
to them with a sudden impulse.
"_My people!_" she said brokenly.
Her voice thrilled them, and they answered with a burst of loyalty warm
enough to screen the silence of those who took no part in the grateful
chorus.
She only bowed her head in acknowledgment, struggling with her emotion:
then moving a little aside, she laid her hand upon the arm of the
alabaster seat that Janus had been wont to use,--it was filled with
lilies in memory of the infant King and guarded by the group of
white-clad pages who should have been his knights. And now, as if the
touch gave her courage, her voice came clear and unwavering.
"_My people!_" she said again, lingering on the words as if the claim
were inexpressibly dear to her; "because ye were _his_ people--my
husband's--the King's: because ye should have been _his_--my little,
little son's;--_because they have left me their work to do_."
She paused for a moment to steady her voice, for a sudden desperate
sense of loneliness and self-pity had overpowered her as she looked into
the sea of faces turned to hers and saw--with the intense spiritual
insight granted to the few in crucial moments--the conflicting emotions
with which they regarded her.
Then, as swiftly, there flashed into her recollection the memory of the
scene in Venice, on the day of her betrothal, when there had been
revealed to her the sacredness of the tie possible between a Queen and
her people--a vision of the holy, surging, passionate mother-love,
adequate to all sacrifice. Surely for these days of her desolation that
early vision had been granted; and with the force of a heavenly message
its memory now brought her strength.
The appeal in her eyes deepened, and the lines of her mouth grew more
tender, while she held herself firmly erect,--as one accustomed to
rule,--and the tones of her voice took on the accent of unquestioned
authority.
"Dear people of Cyprus," she said quite calmly, "I _need_ your
love--that together we may rule wisely."
She had not dreamed that ever again she should taste so dear a joy as
came with the sound of this tumultuous response to her appeal; for the
hearts of the nobles had warmed to her, and a wave of compunction and
loyalty swept the assembly.
As she took her seat upon the throne and gave the signal to open the
court, the light in her face was a radiance beautiful to behold.
* * * * *
"Bow down before the Majesty of the Law!" His Grace the Archbishop,
solemnly proclaimed, while two priests from Santa Soffia stepped forth
from under the arcades, reverently carrying the illuminated MS. of the
Evangel which had been the treasure of their monastery from earliest
ages; and behind them came others of their brotherhood bearing the
quaint, copper casket in which were enshrined those revered Books of the
Law known as the "_Assizes of Jerusalem_," and esteemed among all the
codes of the nations for their wisdom and justice.
The ancient volumes which bore this title had long since disappeared, in
the destruction of Jerusalem; and tradition, prone to assign to
well-known authors of illustrious deeds many good feats accomplished by
those who remain nameless, had ascribed the compilation of this early
masterpiece of judicial wisdom to Godfrey de Bouillon. It had been
sacredly kept in the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and
guarded by a decree ordaining that it should not be opened except in the
presence of certain high officials.
Upon the maxims of this ancient work, faithfully digested in the famous
law-schools of Nikosia by their greatest scholars, the present volume of
Assizes had been founded; and among those most largely concerned in its
authorship was Joan of Iblin--the distinguished ancestor of Dama
Margherita.
Dama Margherita had never been present when the volume was opened, for
like the famous code which had preceded it, it was hedged about with
solemn formalities and might not be unsealed save in the presence of the
Sovereign and four barons of the realm; and she leaned eagerly forward
as the herald, who parted the crowd before the bearers of the sacred
chest reiterated again and again the command:
"Bow down before the Majesty of the Law!"
The little procession proceeded slowly through the intricacies of the
throng, all heads bowing as they passed, until they brought it under the
dome that was raised over the dias where the thrones were set for the
Sovereigns, and where, looking upward, one might read in great golden
characters, wrought above the frieze, this admonition from the Book of
the Law:
_Whoever shall appear in this Court and bear false witness, be he the
noblest in the land, he shall lose his head._
The Queen, to show her reverence, had risen from her throne as they
paused before her, and descending the steps she laid her hand upon the
Evangel, where His Grace the Archbishop held open the page for her, and
kneeling to kiss the venerated Book of the Assizes, she solemnly swore
to uphold the laws and statutes of Cyprus.
* * * * *
But this day was destined to become memorable in the annals of the
courts.
There had been some disputes and decrees of minor interest to be passed
upon before the matter of the recent conspiracy had been brought
forward. This had absorbed the attention of the most learned Cyprian men
at law for some time past, and at this first session of the Court of
Assizes, the summing up of evidence and the closing arguments were to be
laid before the tribunal and sentence would be declared. The revelations
of the trial had thus far been kept secret--but it was known from other
sources that the identity of many of those implicated had been
discovered, and an important prisoner, who was supposed to have had a
large share in shaping the plot, was to be brought into court to close
her trial.
It was she, they said, who, trusted near the person of Her Majesty,
having full opportunity of access to those highest in authority and of
friendly intercourse with all the ancient Cyprian nobility, had been
chosen by the chiefs of the conspiracy to receive and transmit their
orders covertly; to win converts for the scheme, wherever there might be
hope of partisans, and to protect their plans from suspicion. The charge
was "High Treason," for it was whispered that the seizure of the
strongholds was but to have been a step toward the seizure of the Crown,
and this leader came of an ambitious race, than which no family of
Cyprus could boast a more ancient lineage.
In the innermost circle about the Queen, whatever the suspicions of the
maids and knights might have been, the name of this arch-offender was
not even whispered: for their dear Queen herself, with eyes that were
dark with emotion, had pleaded with them.
"For love of me, seek not to know until her innocence or guilt shall be
declared. If she should be innocent--which may our Blessed Lady
grant!--let us save her from dishonor in thought and name."
But one of their number had been long absent, on a visit, it had been
declared, to her distant estates; and if some who came less frequently
to court, named the name of "Madama di Niuna" over-curiously, the
courtiers turned their faces from each other, lest their eyes should
betray the request of their beloved Sovereign Lady--for so had her
misfortunes and her graces and high demeanor won their loyalty.
The prisoner stood before her judges, when they led her into the Hall of
the Assizes, mercifully swathed from head to foot in the filmy silken
veil usually worn by the women of Nikosia; but through the snowy folds
which concealed the features, there came the gleam of the fantastic
jewelled garb, and the lines of the pose--proudly defiant--were plainly
discernible--it could be none other than the young and beautiful and
high-born Dama Ecciva de Montferrat.
The young maids of honor turned sad eyes upon each other, each seeking
to touch the hand of her nearest companion, by way of assurance, while
all waited, in a stress of suspense that was near despair.
Throughout the trial, the splendid assembly followed every phase with
breathless attention, yet with conflicting emotions,--for the prisoner
was one of their peers and all felt the case to be momentous; while, as
the masterly arguments proceeded, and the evidence seemed irrefutable,
perhaps few among them could have determined how it should be most
wisely decided, in view of the waverings and discontent which had
threatened to undermine the Government.
And now the judges and the learned men had withdrawn for private
consultation, and the assembly waited for the verdict in a hush through
which one might have counted the heart-beats sounding in tumultuous
rhythm; but the girlish prisoner still kept her defiant
attitude--tapping the pavement impatiently with her tiny booted foot--as
making light of any crime that might be imputed to Dama Ecciva de
Montferrat.
Then, more swiftly than one might tell it, a blaze of irrepressible
human passion broke upon the decorous quiet of the Chamber; the nobles
sprang to their feet, struggling for expression; for the awful
announcement "_Guilty_," although they had awaited it, brought a sudden
desperate realization of the fearful consequences, as, almost without
pause, the penalty was declared and a piercing shriek rent the air.
"Not _death!_--Holy Saints--NOT DEATH!"
They could see the sinuous figure writhing and panting convulsively
under her wrappings, then tearing her veil like a frenzied woman, as she
sank fainting upon the pavement; and the crowd made way in awe-struck
silence for the Lady Beata with the maidens of the court who closed
about the tortured figure in shielding ministration.
A stately patrician robed in black, fought her way through the excited
throng to the steps of the throne, and threw herself at the feet of the
Queen.
"Have mercy!" she cried; "she is too young to die! Take my life for
hers--_she is my child!_"
A messenger was crossing the chamber from the judge's throne, bearing a
parchment tied in black, a portentous seal depending from the ribbon. It
was the first time that a death-warrant had been presented for the
Queen's signature, and she was visibly agitated.
The agonized mother at her feet kept up her passionate entreaties.
Caterina started up pale and trembling, holding out her hand to the
kneeling figure and drawing her forward:
"Counts and Barons of the Realm, Judges of the Court and all ye people
who look to us for protection! We have sworn before you all to uphold
the laws of Cyprus--we will not fail you!" she protested. "Yet, oh I beg
you to remember that together in this Chamber we have prayed to-day that
we might temper judgment with mercy!--_Let us not sign it!_"
A low murmur of sympathy echoed through the assembly, half-assenting,
and Caterina, perceiving it hurried on.
"Let us rule together wisely," she besought them, "and for the honor of
Cyprus! Let it not be told that our first meeting in this noble assembly
hath been darkened by a sentence of death upon one of our own nobles!
Madonna mia! Grant us to be merciful--spare the noble house of
Montferrat; let the penalty be exile!"
There was a confused murmur in the Hall of the Assizes: disjointed words
punctuated the low babel of sounds: "Exile!" "Exile with confiscation!"
"Death!" "Mercy!" "Death and Confiscation."
They scarcely knew whether they prayed for death or mercy, or whether in
their souls they wished for justice or pardon, for the question was too
weighty to be solved by law, since a nation's peace might hang upon it.
They knew not if they saw distinctly, for the mist that seemed to cloud
their vision--a mist enfolding two women like a halo--the one tall,
black-robed, superb in anguish, with pathetic lines of age upon her hair
and brow, and in her eyes, darker than night, such frenzy of
supplication as one may only offer for a dearer than self: the other
young, tender, fair--all compassion, divine in forgiveness and
comprehension--for were they not both mothers, and had she not suffered
the irreparable loss that she might learn to shield grieving
mother-hearts? She held the Countess of Montferrat closely clasped as if
she would sustain her in her trouble.
"_Not_ confiscation!" she pleaded. "Hath not this mother enough to
suffer in knowing that her child hath missed the highest trust? Shall we
add this also to her pain, and take from her the estates which have been
the home of her people for long ages? Shall she not take the vow of
fealty to the State, instead of her child? And for the Dama Ecciva--we
grieve that it must be exile--yet the safety of the Crown demandeth it.
Be merciful--dear people!"
It was a woman's reason--but a woman's heart, stronger than law or
precedent, had won the day.