"The most Holy Father of Rome hath of late been prejudiced against the King--my husband--and I sought for one who might give me counsel, unprejudiced."

If she had been a wily diplomat she could not better have wielded the prior's mood than by this unconscious utterance.

"So help me G.o.d, I will strive to help thee in counsel," he answered fervently. "But are there not men, set apart as Councillors for the realm, to aid one so young in the ruling of her kingdom?"

"Aye, Father," she admitted sadly, "but it is to steady mine own judgment _to judge of theirs_--that I have sent for thee. The question is not for Court Councillors, but for one who hath no part nor lot in this matter--who is often in meditation on holy matters, and hath won wisdom."

He made a motion of deprecation, but she went on speaking in her clear, even voice, still questioning: "Thou knowest well the history of the kings of Lusignan?"

He bowed his head in a.s.sent.

"And the history of the life of the King--my husband?" She dwelt on the word with inexpressible tenderness--the slight pause that followed it was like unuttered music.

Did she know? Was it possible that she knew? he asked himself.

But the question came again.

"And the provisions of his will--for myself and for--for others?" A wave of color had flushed her cheek and brow.

He looked at her searchingly, seeking for words that might best comfort.

"I know them," he said, "the provisions of the will having been told me by your Majesty's messenger: and I, being a Greek, and the friend of the people, that which toucheth them, toucheth me. My daughter, the sins of the race descend from father to son, and are in the blood; and there hath been no loving care of holy women about his childhood--which should be remembered and win forgiveness."

"It is no question of forgiveness," she answered proudly, "of which I would speak with thee--_that_ lieth between our Holy Mother in Heaven and the souls of those who suffer." She seemed to dismiss the subject with an imperious wave of her slight hand. "It is a question of human judgment in which that of a holy man may avail, but in which this knowledge is necessary--else had it not been spoken of."

She paused for a moment to gather strength, while the old man watched her in growing wonder--so young--so wronged--so tender--so brave--so strong to endure!

Hagios Johannes the elder had been known through the long years of his canonization as _Lampadisti_, the _illumined_: and as the prior listened, he prayed with fervor that the wisdom of his sainted predecessor might descend upon his soul.

"My Father," she resumed with a great effort, "I knew not of this history of the last of our Kings of Cyprus, until my marriage had been made.... I knew not of any right of Carlotta, being _own_ daughter to the King, the father of my husband"--again that tremulous pause of unuttered music--"to contest the crown with him, until I learned it in Cyprus, these few weeks past."

Her head drooped lower, but she went on resolutely. "I knew not, until I came to Cyprus--for they who knew and should have told me, held the knowledge from me--that any might question the right of Ja.n.u.s--my husband--to this kingdom of Cyprus--he being only son to the King. For I knew not that his mother was _not_ the Queen, until I came hither."

She paused again to gather strength, lifting her guileless great eyes to his, in agonized appeal, while he watched her dumbly.

"And now, my Father," she said, throwing back her head with sudden vigor, and with the dignity of a great resolve, "this is my question, which hath come to me in the watches of the night and will not be denied, and for which I have summoned thee. I--being wife to Ja.n.u.s, who hath been crowned King of this people--and I, with him, crowned Queen; and by his will left Queen of Cyprus--with Council, appointed by him, to help me rule; shall I, a Christian woman--a Venetian and _not_ a Cyprian--his widow--_hold this kingdom against Carlotta_, who is daughter to the King, the father of my husband--and to the rightful Queen, Elena--his father's lawful wife?"

He was dumbfounded and could not answer her at once; but while he sought for words he bowed his head in mute reverence.

"My daughter," he said at length, "hath this question been put to thee by any men of Cyprus?"

"Nay, Father; but it hath come to me in these sad nights, because I fain would do the _right_--that which is well for my people: and life is very difficult."

"My people," again, uttered with the accent of a mother who folds her child to her heart--it was a revelation; but he must probe more deeply before he could answer her.

"And this palace--and all the palaces of this estate?" he asked slowly, as if he could not comprehend her. "Thou wouldst renounce this splendor when none hath asked it of thee?"

"I would even bear the weight of it, if it be _right_," she said, "though rest were sweeter."

"Thou wouldst be free, perchance, to seek thy home in Venice?"

"Nay, nay!" she exclaimed, shrinking from him--"never Venice again--since she hath sent me hither, knowing all, and told me not. I cannot go back to Venice!"

He pondered gravely.

"Then what is thy will, my daughter?"

"To do the right!" she cried vehemently; "out of my own great sorrow to expiate the wrong! May it not be, my Father, if I shrink not from the right at any cost?"

"I will consider," he said, "since thy will is strong for this sacrifice."

"Sacrifice!" she cried, in her amazement breaking all reserve. "Oh, Father! To call _this_ 'sacrifice,' when the very light of life is gone from me! He was so beautiful and gracious--with such a light in his eyes--and I thought--oh, I _thought_ we were so happy! And now--oh, G.o.d, it breaks my heart--I _loved_ him!"

"Daughter----"

"May not the suffering of one atone for another's sin?" she questioned feverishly.

"Nay--leave that thought, it is too heavy for thee: and not revealed to men, that they may declare it."

"Pray for him, Father! Thou wilt pray for him--thou and all those who come to thee. There will be many, many prayers and G.o.d will hear. For his people loved him--none could stay from loving him, he was so winsome. Mother of Mercies, thou wilt take my anguish for his atonement!--_Oh I suffer!_"

The words came in a low moan, wrung from her unaware. Father Johannes caught the small hands which she had flung out before her clenched, in her pa.s.sionate struggle for control, and with faltering motions of unaccustomed gentleness, he soothed her until she had grown quieter and he could unclasp them. Then he spoke strange words, out of a great compa.s.sion:

"Christ knoweth; for He is Love--and He will save!"

"There is more," she gasped with her spent voice--"but I dare not name it--the thought of it is torture. But it is not true; Madonna mia! it _is not_ true!"

The strong man could bear no more; he groaned in spirit and ground his hands against his breast--his lip curling with scorn at the pain of his own torn flesh. "Tell it!" he commanded; "it _cannot_ be true."

She looked at him, hope dawning in her stricken face. "The words they speak--they who are his enemies--that he had forsworn his faith: it is not true."

"It is the very machination of the Evil One!" he thundered. "I know the slander and the man who fathered it, for spite. And may Heaven forgive its maker--for he hath need--standing high in the holy place of Earth. I _know_ it is not true!"

He looked his faith into her eyes until he had banished her terror, and she put out her wan hand, grateful, for his a.s.surance.

Then he turned from her abruptly and wandered away to weigh her question, looking into the depths of the great forest while he pondered and prayed to be enlightened. He must have sight of his own solitudes if he would keep his judgment free, and though she called to him, timidly, thinking he had forgotten her, he made no answer, being not yet ready.

Surely, it could not be G.o.d's will that so fine a spirit should resign her claim to their uneasy crown!

It was long before he returned to her side, for the shadows were lengthening and a crimson light flamed in the West.

"Daughter," he said with deep solemnity, "it hath come to me with full light in answer to thy question, that thou, being crowned Queen and consecrated in the Duomo of Nikosia, together with King Ja.n.u.s, thy husband--whom this people loved--and decreed by him to hold this realm, which--for the first time in many years, and by his hand, is now united under one sovereign, that thy duty biddeth thee hold and rule it against all other claimants--were it even Carlotta who hath once been called its Queen.

"Rule thou this people with the fear of Heaven in thy true heart--so G.o.d shall make thee wise!"

She came slowly, as to a heavy task, and knelt before him, with clasped hands, kissing the crucifix which he held out to her; the red light streamed through the arches with a fierce illumination.

"Father--and Ja.n.u.s!" she cried--"hear my vow!

"To do for my people as Heaven and the Madonna shall teach me: to bear them in my heart and seek their happiness; to live for them alone! And if harm hath been--oh G.o.d, if harm hath been done--to nerve me to the more strenuous duty, that wrong may be forgiven!"