Part 45

Not that any thought of personal danger for himself or for them, in the few against the many, entered into his difficulties; but that the facts made failure a possibility; and there must be no failure.

He raised his visor and each man saw his leader's face as the face of a conqueror.

"Coraggio, Signori!" he cried; "our cause is just! God and San Giovanni make strong our arms!"

Well might he be proud of this noble company pressing forward silently, but with quickening pace, at sight of the urgency in their leader's face.

No noble house of Cyprus could boast more ancient lineage, nor so many knights entitled to wear the golden spurs, nor more honorable trophies of the valor dear to knightly hearts. They rode all in full armor, some bearing their famous shields of crimson with the quaint heraldic lion rampant on his golden bar--the device which all men knew had been granted them for extraordinary proof of prowess centuries before.

For this noble family the ancient city of Costanza had been named; and the quaint church of Santa Maria di Costanza, rich in relics and in decoration, had been the private chapel of their historic Castle.

To the assuring rhythm of their strenuous tramp the Admiral turned again to his unsolved problems. For the galleys of Cyprus had hitherto been kept armed by force, but recently their crews had been disbanded, in obedience to a strange clause in the will of King Janus. Now, as Mutio di Costanzo went on his way, wrapped in meditations that were not cheering, the question came to him--"Why?"

Janus, whatever his gifts, had been no judge of men--possibly from too strong reliance in his own power to conquer them by his personal charm. Had this disbanding been deftly suggested to the facile King by his friend, the arch-schemer of Naples?

Was the wily Rizzo, even in those days, planning to leave Cyprus defenceless?

The Admiral gnashed his teeth and sent up a smothered cry to all the saints that his wrath might not unnerve him to the point of losing his iron grip upon himself.

But the situation was not rendered less galling by the reflection that the port of Famagosta--the sole harbor of importance in the island--was covered by the citadel commanded by a traitor; that just within the port a galley flaunting the colors of Naples, rode complacently; and that there were no longer any Cyprian ships-of-war ready for attack.

But retribution must be near; for he knew that Bernardini had sent warning followed by immediate details of the revolt, by secret messengers, concealed in trading-ships to the Venetian fleet off the African coast, and strong help must be at hand. To risk failure by a premature attack, for want of patience to endure a temporary disgrace, would be unmanly weakness. The Madonna be praised, the Chamberlain of the Queen was a man of resource; the people of the cities were devoted to her, and the end might be nearer than seemed possible.

The Admiral was impatient for the conference with Bernardini who had implored him to come without delay.

"At all hazards we shall hold the city-gate," the Chamberlain had written in the first hours of that dark dawn. "With citadel and port in command of the traitors and the Queen in their keeping, this post may have no importance in their eyes. But our help must come from without."

And now the little band of faithful knights were coming in sight of the city-walls--massive and splendid--a monument to the Lusignans.

"For our Queen and Cyprus!" the Admiral said solemnly, his hand upon his sword.

The tone of the utterance made it a command.

"So help us God our Seigneur, and San Giovanni!" the knights answered him in a breath, nerving themselves to attack and success: but they came silently and with no sounds of battle--by order of their chief--not knowing whether to expect welcome or conflict, or whether secrecy might be well.

At the tramp of their horses' feet the warden had advanced to the grille of reconnoitre and withdrawn the small stone shutter for inspection; his head appeared behind the bars, but he wore no tell-tale colors:

"Open! in the name of the Queen! to Her Majesty's faithful vassals!"

The Admiral spoke low--for secrecy might be the very discretion of valor: but fearlessly, for the words were a signal, and every knight stood ready.

"Who challengeth? Speak low."

Was it the word of caution, or a ruse de guerre?

"One of Nikosia."

The Admiral gave the password which Bernardini had sent in that hasty note, and listened, trembling as a brave man may with impatience to be within and at his post of duty, while one by one the bolts were withdrawn, the portcullises were raised, and the signal to advance was given--quite silently: the finger of the guard who had been detailed to accompany them, was upon his lips.

Not until he had conducted them beyond, into the city, did he speak: "We know not what echoes there may be within those walls," he said, pointing back to the ponderous gateway with its many vaulted passages.

Then impatient, the Admiral asked for news.

"Your Excellencies are expected: the citizens await you:" it was said in a tone that meant more than courtesy: Mutio di Costanzo scanned him narrowly.