Part 36

The young Venetian had reached the second court without molestation, when he turned to silence the cry that came from a swaggering band of sailors who had followed him and were shouting for "Alfonso--Prince of Galilee!" They fell upon him at the signal from Rizzo which marked him guilty--for was he not a Venetian?

"E tu, traditor!"

The words rang out unanswered, save by his desperate sword.

They were but six, and he was standing against treason, for the Queen and the honor of his house!

He fought them all, without a groan, until his strength was spent; and they, eager to do the will of this ruffianly king-maker, who was winning a fresh coronet for their Prince of Naples--this man of force who would make much booty possible--fought six to one, and spared not.

And then, by bidding of their Chief, they flung the palpitating, tortured, lifeless remnant of what--one little hour before--had been a loyal, noble, winsome man, dreaming of duty and high achievement--into the horror of the moat by the pitiful wreck of Andrea Cornaro--the two murdered for the double crimes of relationship and loyalty to the trembling girl-Queen.

His Grace, the Archbishop, was among the first to respond to the summons of the alarum, having his mind filled with weighty matters of life and death which had rendered him sleepless--some of which he had discussed confidentially with General Saplana, who had been one of those most distinguished and trusted by the late King.

With Saplana the Commander of Famagosta, and with his own brother Gioan Peres Fabrici, as with some other members of the Queen's Council, many details of the conspiracy which was now being brought to so satisfactory a conclusion, had been arranged. They knew that the Neapolitan galley would be in port that night to support the uprising and the proclamation that should be made, if fortune favored. They knew of Ferdinand's untiring machinations to win a hold upon this much contested Crown of Cyprus; and none knew better how from the moment that the coveted alliance between Janus and a Princess of Naples had been frustrated by the Venetian marriage, Ferdinand had not ceased from intrigues to that end, secretly and zealously supported by certain men who were holding important positions of trust in the Government of Cyprus.

Andrea Cornaro, by whose means his niece had come to her throne, would be the most formidable individual opponent in any scheme for the benefit of Naples, and it became important to remove him; yet it could not be done without some apparent excuse--because of his relationship to the Queen, and because unless success were complete, they might have cause to dread the strong galleys of Venice. So the wily Primate--keeping perhaps his own counsel as to the fabricator of the plot--invented a scheme which he asserted that the unconscious Cornaro intended to carry into effect that night by which, when the great bell of the Castle should sound the call to arms, the Venetians in Famagosta, under Visconti and his band of Italian soldiers were to rise up and murder every Cyprian member of the Council of the Realm. "Therefore let every man be armed and ready for the defense of Cyprus when the call shall be heard. And spare not the traitors!" he urged upon the Commander of the fortress.

"And if Visconti's men could be under restraint this night," the Archbishop suggested casually, "and if that Chamberlain of the Queen's could be under trusty guard within the palace--not to make suggestions in a matter more to your understanding than mine, your Excellency--but I know the man--a troublesome one and proud and silent--my brother liketh him little. After the Cornaro he is most to fear."

Thus Aluisi Bernardini found himself with his mother, close prisoner in the Royal palace, on the night when his Queen most sorely needed the help he would have perilled his life to give.

* * * * *

The Queen had been restless and could not sleep, being greatly troubled by a missive which the Archbishop had that morning delivered into her hands and which contained a reprimand of no gentle nature, purporting to come from His Holiness of Rome, who charged the Queen and certain gentlemen of her kingdom with being 'wicked and ungrateful,' and assuring her that they were everywhere so regarded, for 'certain reasons well known to the writer,' which were not named.

She had put the letter aside, meaning to discuss it with her Chamberlain in the morning; but in the darkness and solitariness of her chamber, it assumed new proportions, and she finally sent to pray the Lady Margherita to come to her, and they sat far into the night--Dama Margherita trying in vain to comfort her with her assurance that she did not believe the letter to be genuine.

"His Holiness could not speak without reason," she asserted; "and having reasons, why should he not give them--that the fault might be confessed and atoned for?--There are no reasons. It is the work of some one who seeketh to annoy."

Dama Margherita had a positive way of seeing things, which was often helpful to Caterina's more gracious nature.

"Cara Margherita--it was His Grace himself who gave the letter into my hand."

But Dama Margherita had no reverence for the Archbishop of Nikosia.

"I think, your Majesty, that letter is not genuine," she repeated, uncompromisingly.

"But--Margherita--the most reverend, the Archbishop would not----"

Caterina broke off with a vivid flush and left the sentence unfinished, remembering that there had been a previous Archbishop of Nikosia whose code had not been fashioned by her ideals.

Dama Margherita had but just withdrawn when the uproar in the streets began and she rushed back at once to her Lady's side. The sounds came muffled through the massive walls of the castle for there was no outlook on the Piazza; it was the low muttering of a storm, none the less terrible because undeclared. But there could be no mistaking the dread clangor of the bell, and the two young, helpless women clung to each other in trembling silence.

Caterina was the first to recover her composure; she made a pathetic effort to steady her voice as she spoke.

"Margherita, I must know at once what this meaneth. If one of the Council would come to me--there is always one in the Castle--my Uncle Andrea--or the Councillor Zaffo--I would they had not sent Aluisi and the Zia back to the palace!--and--and--I will go to the Boy."

"Dear Lady," Margherita besought her. "Let me rather bring him hither. The Council will be coming at once--they would rather find you here. I will come with the Prince and his aya, so soon as I shall have found one of the Council. Your Majesty will not fear to be left alone?"

"No: No!" Caterina hastened her with a motion of her hand. "The others will be here; thou wilt hasten with the child--and then thou wilt leave me no more!"

But Dama Margherita was already far down the narrow stone corridor, beyond hearing the confession of failing courage which would have brought her instantly back, when a tapestry was thrust hastily aside, and Maestro Gentile, the old white-haired physician, fully armed, but with the air of a hunted man, tottered into the room.

"They seek my life," he gasped, "I know not why. I came through the terror lest your Majesty should need me--for it is a night!--San Nicolò save us!"