Part 40

With a gesture he included all the company.

"Heaven hear us!" they swore in deep, angry, concert.

She turned her face to them, a great light shining in her eyes.

"I carry Her Majesty the strength of your loyalty, dear friends," she said. "The Madonna be praised--for her need is sore!"

Then, quite silently, and as with a solemn act of consecration, she made the sign of the Cross before the Leader who was to save the Queen, and with quick footsteps passed under the peristyle.

"Margherita!"

She motioned him back as he would have followed her, and he stood and watched her--his heart in his throat--until she had crossed the moat and been admitted to the Fort--the Lady Margherita--alone--in such a guise--fearless and direct as ever.

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Sunrise was just gilding the sea: it flashed and sparkled as if there were no woe.

XXII

The horror of the night still lay over Caterina like a dense pall, clouding her understanding, when the Chief of Council and the Archbishop passed between the guards whom Rizzo had placed to watch within the doors of the Queen's chambers, where, prostrated by anguish and anxiety, one scheme after another for the recovery of her child absorbed her to the exclusion of all other grief. She looked up dumbly as Rizzo and Fabrici drew near her couch--her eyes deep with unspeakable misery.

The Lady Margherita, watching near her, was indignant at the intrusion; she rose and stood before the Queen.

"My Lords, you forget yourselves--Her Majesty hath not summoned you."

"There are moments, my Lady of Iblin, when Majesty is but a farce--and Power need not do it reverence!"

The Queen heard without heeding the words: but the insolent smile on the face of the speaker displeased her. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, imploring them by a gesture to leave her. She had exhausted every argument to induce them to restore her child or even to disclose his whereabouts--she had pleaded as only a mother may, but in vain; and worn by the unequal contest and all unnerved, she now feared to anger them further with impotent protests lest she should tempt them to cruelty towards her child.

The Archbishop took a step towards her, pausing for a moment, irresolute, before attempting further coercion. But the cold glitter in the eyes of his companion urged him to conclude his task, and he spread a paper open on the table beside her.

From pity, or from wile, if not from shame, he assumed a tone of deference as he explained:

"Your Majesty, it will be needful at once to send advices to Venice, bearing our condolences for the sad fate of our noble Messrs Andrea Cornaro, and the young Seigneur Marco Bembo."

The names roused her: she had been told of their fate, but everything had been forgotten in the later anguish. Now she remembered with a sharp sting of pain, and she turned her face toward the speaker, waiting to hear why they stayed to torment her.

"It will be well for your Majesty to sign this writing, which we have prepared to explain to the Signoria the tragic ending of the quarrel of their Excellencies with a band of laborers whom they had refused to pay."

Caterina had been gazing fixedly at the Archbishop while he spoke, trying to understand. Now she made a supreme effort to shake off her lethargy, seeming for the moment so like her usual self that the two conspirators trembled for their schemes.

"The Council hath not found our signature needful for their extraordinary action of the night," she said. "This letter is of less consequence. We pray you to leave us."

Rizzo strove to hearten his colleague with a glance, as the Archbishop produced the casket which held the Royal Signet and placed it open on the table beside the letter which the Queen had thrust aside, and which lacked only the royal signature to be complete. It had been folded and superscribed with all due formality and homage.

"Serenissimo Principe et Domine excellentissimo, Domine Nicolò Marcello, Dei gratia inclito duci Venetiarum, etc., Domine colendissimo."

The broad band of white-dressed skin by which it was to be closed was already fastened to the letter, though it hung loose with the silken fillets of blue and white which were to attach the great Seal of Janus the III--the helpless infant king whom his wily ministers had stolen from his mother's arms.

Rizzo, opening the casket, stood for a moment gloating over the mastery he was to achieve with this little instrument of the Great Seal of the Kingdom--his triumphant gaze fastened on his scarlet treasure--a pretty toy of wax for such a ruffian to find of consequence, bearing the escutcheons of Jerusalem, of Cyprus, of Armenia and Lusignan, with the naked sword of Peter the Valiant for a crest; and for border, encircling the Seal, the legend punctuated by heraldic roses--

"Jacobus, Dei Gratia, 22 us Rex Jherusalem, Cipri et Armenia."

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