Part 35

The man saluted as he offered the usual password, then, recognizing one of the Queen's Council, presented arms.

Here, at least, all was tranquil--possibly his fears had been too great.

But from the third court--the one first entered from the Piazza, there came as he neared the arched passage that led from court to court through the thickness of the massive walls, hints of commotion that made him pause to consider whether he might not more surely reach the Queen by some other stairway.

As he drew back into the shadow to make some farther plan, the Count of Tripoli, with Rizzo di Marin, Chief of Council, came through, from the first court, followed by one or two mounted nobles, questioning the sentry as to whether anyone had passed that way, and he heard the man give his name.

"Sua Eccellenza, Messer Andrea Cornaro."

The Count of Tripoli repeated this answer, with an accent of surprise.

"He gave the password?" he questioned, sternly.

"Eccellenza, si--come sempre."

Andrea Cornaro, to whom fear was unknown, thinking himself called, immediately responded, coming forward into the light.

"I have somewhat to discuss with thee," Rizzo said nonchalantly. "Wilt have a mount? We will go forth upon the ramparts and see whether all be in order."

"I have but left my horse," Cornaro answered, calling the animal to him with a motion of his hand, "but I would first know of this tumult." He kept his hand upon the bridle and remained standing, while he looked searchingly from Rizzo to Tripoli, the Governor of Famagosta.

"What is this tumult?" he repeated angrily, seeing them not quick to answer.

"Nay, Friend, how knowest thou not? being of the Council--as we:" Rizzo answered with a hint of provocation in his tone. "It is but some difference of the soldiers as to rations and pay: it threatened mutiny and had to be met. It will be put down. Mount then, your Excellency."

"'Rations,' and 'pay,'" Cornaro answered scornfully, "to rouse the city and 'put it down'--at dead of night!"

"Aye: since they chose this time for their own deed of darkness, we men-at-arms may not be dainty about the hour of retribution."

"The Queen--my niece," said Andrea, taking a sudden resolution and throwing the reins across his horse's neck; "I will first go to her. Later I wait thy pleasure, Signor Rizzo; on the ramparts, or where thou wilt.--This is no lightsome night for a woman--a mere girl."

"'A woman'--'a mere girl'!"--the Chief of Council began tauntingly.

Cornaro's hand was upon his sword.

"Scusi!" Rizzo said, suavely, being not yet ready for the break. "I meant no disrespect--but she is young to rule. If thou wilt take thy horse, we will first seek the Queen, who would speak with thee. Nay--not by that court--the winding mount is quieter."

The Count of Tripoli and his companions had already left them and passed into the first court, in eager converse; but Cornaro was scarcely in the saddle before a sudden great uproar in the streets of the city beyond the fort arrested them. Cries, as of many men in concert, proclaiming Alfonso, son of Ferdinand of Naples, Prince of Galilee and Heir to the Crown of Cyprus--"by order of the Council of the Realm:" deafening shouts and threats of the citizens, protesting:--sounds of clashes of arms, terrorizing the people:--the sudden crash of the alarum bell, bursting forth anew to drown their protests:--

Then again the traitorous cries, passing off through the more distant streets of the city:

"Viva Alfonso--Prince of Galilee and Heir to the Crown of Cyprus!"

"What meaneth this insolence!" Cornaro cried, white with passion and instantly drawing his sword.

* * * * *

The Neapolitan was not braver than the Venetian--but with an infinitely cooler brain, well-skilled in villany and intrigue and troubled by no sense of honor, he seized his opportunity, and when his victim's arm was raised, he dealt him a desperate blow on the head which hurled him, with stunning force from his horse. And then, upon the pavement of the castle-court, having him at disadvantage and senseless from the blow, the valiant Chief of Council, cruelly and like no loyal knight, summoned his mercenaries to his aid and dispatched his enemy with quick sword-thrusts, bidding them toss the lifeless body into the moat that circled the castle walls.

The faithful horse was the solitary mourner who watched his unconscious master while life was ebbing and sought to comfort him with mournful whinnies of almost human affection.

* * * * *

Had the young knight Marco Bembo but known of his uncle's barbarous murder, and that the white-haired Councillor Zaffo lay foully slaughtered in the first court of the castle because of his great crime of loyalty to the Queen, he might have paused before he attempted to force an entrance to the fortress. And yet he would not--being loyal as the venerable Councillor himself, and as full of bravery as Andrea Cornaro; the thought of the Queen's greater need would but have spurred his courage.