"Aye, Mother; they are our hope: I thank thee for thy word."

A silence fell again between them, and his face grew less anxious.

"The burden is heavy for thee," she said, as he came and stood near her low couch. "It will ease thee to speak of it, if thou mayest not dismiss it. It is not this last attempt of Carlotta that troubles thee? _That_ hath been crushed?--without renewal?"

He gave a short laugh.

"One knoweth not," he answered, with an attempt at playfulness that showed no color of mirth. "These two hours have I been within. Cornaro was with me. Another _mahona_ may have chanced to land, coming from Africa with some other Valentine to do Carlotta's bidding and a.s.sert her claim to this uneasy crown of Cyprus; _this_ Valentine of Montolipho, poor youth, having no longer a brain to work her schemes.--But danger from within is less easy to quell."

She had never seen him so uneasy: but she tried to control her apprehension since he needed all her strength.

"What saith Andrea Cornaro? Doth he share thy fear?" she asked in a low even tone.

"We spoke together but now of his Grace, the Archbishop, who verily wore a face that boded no good to the child nor his mother--even as he held him in baptism that day--sealing him with the sign of the Holy Cross!--And to-day, in Council--verily Cyprus hath need of a new Council----" he broke off suddenly.

"The Archbishop is not of the Council, Aluisi!"

"But his brother, the Count Carpa.s.so, is more to fear," he cried wrathfully. "They are men of one mind and both creatures of that treacherous King of Naples. If Ja.n.u.s had had more wit, he would have left Gioan Peres Fabrici to this day, bargaining for his cargoes of grain, instead of naming him to the Council of the Realm and lavishing the honors of the kingdom upon this faithless favorite."

"Faithless--my son? It is an evil word."

The quiet interruption arrested the angry flow of his speech.

"I pray that he be not found faithless," he said more quietly, "when he hath a chance to prove his quality. But one would think a man so favored of the King would seek, at every turn, to prove his loyalty before the Queen--in which I find him not overanxious."

"It is thou, perchance, who art overanxious, from the greatness of thine own loyalty, and the burden it hath brought thee."

"Aye--am I!--Where there is cause for mistrust it maketh cowards of us, when faith were better. Thou knowest, gentle Mother, that this Valentine confessed, before his death, that he but heralded a larger craft sent from Rhodes, with knights and gentlemen and letters favoring _Carlotta_!

And Gioan Peres Fabrici, Captain of our galley, sent with speed by prayer of us of Venice to bring them hither to confess themselves, _found them not_. He returned, _with speed_--and _found them not_. What thinkest thou, my Mother? Is it my judgment that is gone from too great anxiety?--Or may a valiant captain not see a brigantine armed upon the water?--a ship--a brig, scarce smaller than his own, perchance--that he should let them slip?"

"Why should he let them slip?--And Valentine may not have spoken truth."

"One speaketh truth, or naught--with death so near. And for thy question--I know not why----" He seemed to be evolving knotty reasons, as he sat, with stern brows, deep in thought. With an effort he roused himself and went on with his tale.

"But yesterday, in Council--for Cornaro and I, we had discussed the matter of the royal residence together, thinking it suited not with the Queen's dignity to remain longer in the fortress--a most mournful palace for one so young and who hath need of some distraction about her to keep her from oversadness. But Rizzo, being Chief of Council, would hear naught of the Queen's return to the Palace. Fabrici also spoke against it."

"It is strange:--but they gave no reason?"

"They gave a reason--one of their own making: that there was a matter of more moment before the Council; that the Queen's pleasure might wait."

"Aluisi! What saidst thou?"

"Cornaro lost patience and answered roundly: that he, being by his late Majesty created Auditor of the realm, and by him greatly trusted--it behooved him as much to uphold the Queen's dignity as to have his word in the choice of the residence and aught else pertaining to the costs of the royal household. And that the Chamberlain of the Queen--I having upheld the demand made by him--was like to know what best might suit her Majesty."

"And then?" the Lady Beata questioned, much agitated.

"'Ye are like to know what best might suit Her Majesty--_both being of Venice_,' Rizzo made answer; and _dismissed the Council_."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments.

"How will Andrea accept this insolence?" the Lady Beata questioned.

"There _is_ more--far more than that for anxiety," Aluisi said, dismissing her question with an impatient gesture. "I would that the Queen and the child were here--in their own palace--or that we were there. The question hath turned to one of larger import than the good pleasure of the Queen; or the wisdom of holding the Queen and the Prince Royal in a fortress, when the land is not at war--as if her own people might not be trusted with her life. But the argument did not touch the Council--not more than the whim of us--_of Venice_"--he spoke bitterly.

"Before, it was expedient. _Now_----"

"Now?" his Mother urged.

"There may be some scheme behind it, and I would we were there. She hath none of her own beside her, if trouble should come."

"She hath Dama Margherita--who loveth her well."

"Dama Margherita," Bernardini echoed, and a feeling of peace came over him.

But the Lady Beata sat pondering, in troubled silence. What could it mean? Caterina had taken up her residence in the fortress before her illness; it had been thought wise, although it had not been publicly declared. A few of her maids of honor and Lady Beata, Chief Lady of her Court, had gone with her. But before the baptism, her suite had returned to the palace, that all might be as usual for the reception of the royal guests; the Queen had lingered from day to day, partly that she might escape the crowd and keep more quiet until the festivities were over.

But now--was it of her own choice? Why did she not return?

"And now--what wilt thou do?" the Lady of the Bernardini asked at length, turning towards her son, failing to see what course of action might be wisest. "May we not go to her to-night?"

"It is too late: the gates are closed; it could do but harm to rouse them for us to pa.s.s, with no cause but our anxieties to offer. But to-morrow, we will compa.s.s it.

"Meanwhile I have done what may be done to bring hither more who are of our ways of thinking; for who should care for her, if not we '_of Venice_?'" It was evident that the thrust rankled. "I saw our Consul yesterday, who seemed not overanxious from what I told him--therefore _I told him not all_--I trust he hath not been tampered with by this most wily 'Council to the Queen!' but before the night had fallen, I sent a letter of warning to Mocenigo who, with his fleet, will be at anchor off the coast of Rhodes--to pray that he will come, or will send our Provveditore Vettore Soranzo to await the need."

His Mother grasped his wrist--her eyes dilating. "It must be long before they can come," she said, in a whisper.

"Not many days," he answered rea.s.suringly; "and I have sent by a trusty Cypriote who will make full speed to bring me back the message that meaneth large reward for him. My warning must reach Mocenigo before any message sent from Cyprus to Venice might get to him again."

"Is there aught else that may be done?"

"I have given command to put my fastest brig in trim, and to-morrow she will sail with merchandise for Venice; all day she hath been lading in the port. The message in my special cypher, known only to the Secretary of the Ten, is ready here." He drew the missive from his breast, as he spoke, replacing it instantly. "Marco Bembo will sail with it on the morrow, which he may well do without suspicion, having come hither for the ceremonies now over. The brig will leave the port with all due tranquillity; and afterward will make all possible speed."

"There could be nothing more," she said rising; "thou hast thought of all."

"I thought also to have some one watching--ready to appeal to the burghers, if need should be: and I have sent but now a most secret message by my own trusty squire to his Eccellenza, Mutio di Costanzo, to tell him what hath chanced. He being Governor and Admiral of Cyprus, hath so great power that it should not be left for the Queen's Council to reach him first--if there should be scheming. Being Vice-Roy of Nikosia, he will have the will of the citizens for his following--if need should be. And his loyalty is sure: it was he, who with our _bail_ of Venice received Caterina's oath of allegiance, after the death of Ja.n.u.s; and he will not fail her."

"Thou hast a right to thy weariness," his Mother said, laying her firm white hand with a weight of tenderness for a moment on his head. "Thou mindest me of thy father--so full of carefulness to be before in any cause that he held dear. I would thou wert not lost to Venice--it was my hope for thee--thou wouldst have been a power in her Councils."

"We would not be false to our own for any fancied glory that might be possible for us," he answered more lightly than he had yet spoken: but he knew that his Mother's ambitions for him were not fulfilled in this mission to Cyprus--that she had sacrificed her heart's desire for him.

He caught her beautiful white hand and spread it tenderly out upon his own--a hand that it had taken generations to fashion--made to command, yet knowing when to yield--modelled with exquisite lines of grace, goodness, courtesy, power--a hand of character, yet with delicate flushes of pink in finger tip and palm, with a touch as tender as strong.

"It is too hard for thee, Madre mia, away from thine old home," he said tenderly. "There is room in the brig for thee to-morrow, if thou wilt: and Marco for thine escort."

She shook her head: "It would be harder to live without my boy," she said resolutely. "Now think on sleep, of which thou hast need--and----"

She half-framed the name of Margherita, yet would not utter it.

He smiled at the wistful look in her face; for he understood. "Nay, Madre mia; such thoughts are not for me. I am a general in an alien camp, with scarce wit enough for my tangled duty."

Then he bent his knee, and kissed her hand, in knightly fashion of the time, as doing her reverence, whom in his heart he loved, and left her--a little comforted by his long confidential talk.