Part 34

The Royal Palace was doubly guarded--as never before, and Marco when he reached it, plead in vain for admission.

"By order of the Council of the Realm, no man might enter."

"Then take, I pray thee, this message to His Excellency, the Chamberlain of the Queen, and bid him come hither--it is for life or death."

A golden coin, with the head of Janus stamped upon it, glittered in his palm. The valiant guard received the gift and refused the message.

"No man shall enter, nor leave this palace to-night: by order of the Council of the Realm."

"I bring an order from His Excellency, Andrea Cornaro, Auditor of Her Majesty, and member of the Council of the Realm," Marco pleaded desperately.

"Our orders are of the Chief of Council, the Signor Marin Rizzo--whom to disobey this night is death."

The foremost guard of the line had led the defense: and among them all there was no motion to favor this young cousin of their Queen. He was a knight, and brave at arms--but to have fought that band meant certain death; and at the castle, one might, perchance, help the Queen!

"There are some with Caterina to help her," he thought in his loyal heart, as baffled at the palace, he pushed his way across the Piazza and reached the entrance to the castle, "and here she is surely safe."

The Count of Zaffo, her aged Councillor and friend, had risen from a sick-bed to go to her; he had been first to enter the castle-court. "So ill, that he scarce could hold himself upon his palfrey," some one told the young knight in the crowd, in answer to his question.

"The old Councillor scarce could strike a blow for her," thought Marco; "but it is good that he should be within: for his devotion to Caterina is known. And Messer Andrea is there!"

He drew breath more freely for this gleam of comfort, as he gave the usual password.

But the guard was obdurate.

"It is not the password for this night, my Lord."

"I pray thee--I am cousin to Her Majesty, and must have speech with her."

"Eccellenza; by order of the castellan, none may pass, save those who give the word."

"Then call me hither the castellan."

"The password hath been given by the Chief of the Council of the Realm; and without it, the gates may not be opened," the castellan answered without preamble, when he appeared for an instant before the slide in the great gate--as quickly closed, though he had recognized a member of the Queen's family.

"Had his uncle known the password and forgotten to give it to him?" Marco questioned in some anxiety, as he made his way, baffled again, through the crowd in the Piazza, which was growing denser and more excited. "And if he had not known it----?"

He quickened his pace--his horse alert to obey his will, fretting with dilated nostril and pawing hoof at their frequent interruptions.

The citizens had gathered in force, but no one of them knew the cause of the commotion, and they were not immediately formidable in the midst of this armed body of knights and soldiers who kept secret council and obeyed the slightest word of their commanders. Marco searched their faces, as well as he might for the uncertain glare of the torches, but in vain. If he could but find General Visconti and his men, they might cut their way into the fortress--they, being Venetians, were surely loyal to the Queen!

His brain was in a whirl--he could think of nothing that was best, every moment might count--yet he crossed and recrossed his steps, turning down dark streets and back again into the Piazza; he was no longer sure of the safety of the castle; he was growing desperate.

But Visconti's men did not reveal themselves, and Marco worked his way out of the Piazza--since they surely were not there, and since no hint of what was passing within the fortress came from behind the porte-cullis--the single opening upon the square.

Little did he dream that Visconti's men, because they were Venetians and known to be in sympathy with the Queen were kept that night, by order of the Council of the Realm, in close detention.

The troop of horse stood impassible before the entrance and the sentry as tranquilly kept guard upon the turrets, as Marco passed them on his way to a small gate upon the seaward side which he had once noticed and now hoped had been forgotten, and where, in truth he entered when he reached it; for it had not been thought important by the planners of this night's strange revel--possibly because few knew of it, or perhaps, because there were none from the port who would not be welcome, for the fleets of Venice were known to be at anchor off the coasts of Turkey, having sailed thither in glad and unsuspecting temper after the courtesies of the baptismal and coronation fêtes.

* * * * *

It chanced that it was through this same small, unguarded doorway that Andrea Cornaro had passed when--unaware of the new password for the night and zealously kept in ignorance thereof by his colleagues in office--he had been denied admission at the great gate upon the Piazza. As all persuasion brought him the more strenuous denial, he felt sure of some perfidy and the more bent upon reaching his niece at all hazards--for he was not one to be easily overcome by obstacles.

Meanwhile, Messer Andrea, Auditor to the Queen and Member of the Council of the Realm, had meant to scale the walls by the seaside and fight his way, hand to hand if need be, to the Queen's side, when he had chanced upon this little gate upon the moat so long unused that its rusty bolt yielded without over-much persuasion to his pressure from without. The first court upon which it gave entrance--being the farthest from the Piazza--was dark and deserted, and he passed, without resistance into the second court, finding it also empty, except for the sentry passing to and fro on his monotonous duty.