Part 47

To no mighty force could those strong bars have been more swiftly withdrawn; nor was there need of contest to displace the trembling guards of Naples, as the men of Cyprus within the fort hastened to obey the mandate from without, saluting as the massive gates creaked upon their hinges and protesting that further haste had been impossible.

"Let every traitor crave mercy!" the Admiral thundered as he crossed the drawbridge with his cavalcade: "and on your knees crave pardon of your outraged Queen as we descend."

"Signori!"--to the Knights of the Golden Spurs--"await us here--none less loyal may stand on guard."

* * * * *

To-day the entire armament of the fortress was less than of wont; for Rizzo and Tripoli, secure in their victory and confident that there would be no uprising since none had yet been attempted, had not hesitated to take a considerable following with them to secure the surrender of the other citadels of Cyprus "by order of the Queen." For was not Rizzo the happy holder of many pretty bits of parchment signed by the hand of "Caterina Regina" herself and attested by the royal signet of Cyprus--which to disobey was treason? It would be a pretty farce to insist upon the potency of that trembling signature wrested from the captive Queen when she had worn no semblance of power--a farce to which the Neapolitan schemer was fully equal.

None but a man who knew the famous stronghold of Famagosta so intimately as did the Admiral of Cyprus could thus quickly have made sure that the surrender was complete and that no secret reserves of men and arms were kept back for further intrigues. To swear in those who would stand for Cyprus--to banish the mercenaries of Naples and all who were in sympathy with them to the dungeons below--to make sure of the color of the guards at port and passage--was not so much longer in the doing than in the telling.

And yet, to the young Queen and Margherita the moments had seemed hours: they stood close together; straining every faculty to interpret the meaning of the commotion below, within the fortress, alternating between hope and fear as, at intervals, the cries of the people reached them from the piazza, indistinct and broken by the thickness of the walls; now and again a fierce imprecation rising above the tumult--yet surely there were tones of loyalty--voices calling for "Caterina Regina!"

Caterina's strength was well-nigh spent--she had suffered so much; she caught the hand of Margherita in agitation as the tramp of footsteps echoed through the corridor nearing the door of her chamber, and Margherita laid her other hand on Caterina's with an almost maternal tenderness, from the great pity within her.

"Beloved Lady!" she cried reassuringly; "they bring us glad tidings."

For she read it in their faces as the Bernardini and Mutio di Costanzo knelt in the low doorway to offer their homage.

But the young Queen seemed to tremble between life and death as she stretched forth her arms to them with a low wail that almost unnerved those strong faithful men.

"My Boy! My Boy!--your Prince!"

How may joy immeasurable be told in an instant's space, and one schooled to agony not die from the swift change to such rapture of content!

For the Bernardini had answered her: "Safe in the Palazzo Reale: and the people are clamoring for their Queen!"

And because the Dama Margherita had seen the great shining light in his eyes her heart went out to him, and she knew that the safety of the Royal infant meant a tale of loyalty and danger that Aluisi Bernardini would never tell.

* * * * *

But at last the Admiral and the Bernardini led Caterina forth into the piazza, pale and calm--the glory of a great gladness in her eyes--the suffering which had left deep traces in her face disguised by the exaltation of the moment so that she scarcely seemed less radiant than when she had last stood there on the day of the coronation fête with her child in her arms--as any woman of the people might have done, the tender, baby-cheek pressed close to hers.

Some of them remembered it as they fell on their knees around her, kissing her hands, offering her homage--reparation--sobbing out their devotion:

"Regina! Madonna Nostra Reale! Regina! Regina! May the Holy Mother bless her and our little King!"

She was not a thing of State and jewels, cold and distant like the proud Queen Elenà, but a tender human mother, fair and young, and her heart had been all but broken when that wicked Chief of Council had stolen away the child!--the people might gather close about her and weep and rejoice with her.

"Madonna Nostra Reale!"

The air was still ringing with the loyal shouts of the multitude when Vettore Soranzo with that eagerly expected Venetian fleet, weighed anchor in the port of Famagosta and with his men streamed through the unresisting gates of the Fortress into the Piazza San Nicolò, where the young Queen still stood radiant.

* * * * *

With the holy calm of night peace brooded over the distracted city and the Cyprian stars looked down on the old, sweet story of mother and child--as closely clasped beneath the gilded roof of the royal palace as under the thatch of a peasant shed--smiling, forgetful of the days of anguish that had parted them.

XXV

The Venetian Admiral Mocenigo, god-father to the little prince, had followed close upon the coming of Vettore Soranzo, and they had lost no time in examining into the causes of the difficulties and in fixing the responsibility for the treachery where it belonged: disloyal officers were replaced by men in sympathy with the government, men of weight and character were sought for to fill the vacancies in the Council of the Realm, and it seemed that days of sunshine were dawning for Caterina, guarded by the affection of her people and the invincible arm of Venice.

These Venetian nobles would have made short work in meting out justice to those chiefs who had been the instigators of the conspiracy, but as yet they had eluded the search; though it was rumored that Saplana, the Turkish commander of the Fortress of Famagosta, with his nephew Almerico to whom the conspirators would assign control of the castle of Cerines,--had been in hiding in the palace of the Archbishop. And a tale was brought to Bernardini by a group of agitated peasants from the hamlet of Varoschia, that at early dawn a man fully armed, with the semblance of Rizzo--"not an apparition, Signore sa--but how could one know the face of him with his vizor down?--was riding like the wind to Famagosta, and with him a multitude of horsemen, coming very silently. We saw them from the vineyards high up on the hillside. And then--quite suddenly--we looked and they were gone--they came no more--by San Nicolò and the Holy Madonna, it is true!"

Significant gestures gave a certain mysterious color to the peasant's tale; but whatever its truth, it was actually known that Rizzo and other of the conspirators had been seen in the neighborhood of Nikosia; and the whereabouts of these intriguers was a topic of absorbing interest, for it was felt that the sunshine would be clearer when Rizzo with his accomplices should have been found and made to suffer the full penalty of their crime.