"There was the nephew, Almerico--much in temper because thy n.o.ble uncle the Contarini would not yield up to his traitorous care the Castle of Cerines for the signature forced from the Queen. There was Fabrici--the very Reverend, the Primate of Cyprus. And then--and then--not last, but first, and deepest and darkest traitor of them all--the very darkest villain of them all--there was Rizzo!"

"Ecciva! Not Rizzo!--the land is free of him!"

"Aye, _Rizzo_, child. Did I tell thee I had news? And for their absences may Heaven be praised!--though, truly, they have deserved worse."

"They have deserved _death_," said Eloisa solemnly: "death between the columns of the Piazzetta--death and confiscation."

"So, my Venetian, thou never wilt remember that we are Cyprians! The drama of confiscation will surely follow upon their deserts, and there will be fiefs the more for their Cyprian betters. But as for death--'death between the columns'--I could almost be glad that Rizzo hath escaped. How shall one not admire the masterful scheming of the man, and the insolence and power of him?--he is fairly great in wile.--Have I not told thee news enough, and of a quality to make thy hair stand on end--the comely hair of a most decorous young Venetian maid?--and thou hast never a word of admiration. Verily, thou art tiresome!"

"It is so terrible, Ecciva: I cannot jest, nor gloat on it for news."

"There, there, sweet child!" Ecciva had slipped easily back into her old, mocking, taunting way--"go look out thy tire for the morrow and try on thy jewels, for the pageant will be fine: and, do thy best, I shall outshine thee--thee and the Dama Margherita! One pageant in six months of woe--it is not over much."

XXVI

The pageant had been brilliant, as one may read in the chronicles of the time.

Even the Queen of the Adriatic, in all her pride, could offer little to surpa.s.s the splendor of this great esplanade by the sea where the review had been held. The pavement of costly mosaic stretched along the coast, guarded by the lofty tower which jutted out upon the sea; while the other side of this unusual piazza was dominated by the famous Citadel which climbed the steep acclivity with intricate windings of crenellated walls, dotted with sentry towers where banners were floating. In that clear atmosphere distance was not appreciable, and the castellated slopes seemed to lead up to the highest peak of the Troodos, whose snow-crowned summit flashed its crystal against the deep blue of the Cyprian sky.

The ma.s.sive walls of modern Famagosta skirted the esplanade, and above their mighty bulwark rose the domes and pinnacles of her palaces and churches--a city of delight. There were strange monuments breaking the sky-line; there were statues and fountains gleaming in the sunlight; there were hedges of rose and myrtle outlining the terraced gardens on the hill-slopes, where rioted all manner of fruits and bloom: back of them the vineyards of Varoschia--lemons, burning like topaz against the dark thatch of their glossy leaves, and near them the thin gray of the olive-trees, outlining with pale shadow the forests that spread to the mountains.

Vast vases of stone looked down from the heights in grotesque shapes--serpents coiled, thrusting out their tongues tipped with rubies, with glaring emeralds for eyes: and below them, deep cut in the living rock and blazoned so that one might read them from afar, the arms of the kingdom--as if sacred pythons, terrible and fierce, kept watch above the harbor for the honor of the realm.

And far off, against that wonderful mountain background, a colossal marble lion stood guard over the ruins of the city that slept upon the coast below--with demoniac, fiery eyes of flashing jewels, striking terror to the souls of mariners who might have wandered with sacrilegious feet among those crumbling tombs and temples in search of buried treasure.

For this buried city on the coast was the ancient city of Salamis, and famed for her magnificence--the _Famagosta Vecchia_ which had furnished many a stately column and intricately wrought carving to enrich the modern city to which Ja.n.u.s had transferred the capital of his kingdom.

Half-buried fragments of palaces and tombs and temples reached far along the coast, giving the touch of pathos and historic interest: and about them swept the broken circles of the splendid aqueduct which, in the days long past, had gathered the waters of the mountain streams to furnish the countless fountains and cisterns of Salamis. Great palms had sprung up in the fissures of the ma.s.sive, gra.s.s-grown arches, and vines trailed draperies of beauty over their decay--and so they stood, a monument to the past, challenging the dwellers of the modern city to a labor so needful for the public weal.

The port was gay with trading ships and colors of many lands; but Mutio di Costanzo studied it with frowning brows, noting only the absence of his own galleys of Cyprus, which lay, unmanned in the dock-yards by order of King Ja.n.u.s the Second! And before them, where he turned his gaze, still frowning, on the silver of the sea rode the galleys of the fleet of Venice--decked with the banners of San Marco and of Cyprus.

Caterina, under her canopy, with all her court about her in fullest state, had received the homage of the people, as she pa.s.sed her forces in review, her cheek tingling with honest pleasure at their enthusiastic greeting. The little Prince had been beside her, crowing his delight at the music, the motion, the noise, the color, in most unkingly fashion, quite unconscious that the storied jewel of his realm--the great ruby that Peter the Valiant had received as the tribute of a conquered Eastern city, glittering in the lace of his infant-cap, by way of royal insignia--demanded a regal bearing.

The presentation to the Mocenigo of the golden shield, richly inlaid with the arms of Cyprus, had made a pretty scenic episode, quite worthy of dramatic Venice.

For Mutio di Costanzo also, and for the Bernardini, there had been demonstrations, as Dama Ecciva had foretold: but the Lady Margherita de Iblin had noticed with uneasiness, that whereas it was a time when the people, high and low, should have a.s.sembled to testify their loyalty and affection, the crowd was chiefly composed of burghers and peasants from the hamlets in city neighborhoods, and that many of the old Cyprian n.o.bles with their tenantry were conspicuously absent. And since the death of Ja.n.u.s, some of those who had formerly been in attendance at court, had rarely shown themselves there.

Dama Margherita spoke of this afterwards to the Admiral, for he had asked for some private conversation with her in her boudoir, when the ceremonies should be over.

"What mean these absences?" she asked, when they had bemoaned the situation.

"Venice is feared, not loved," he answered her.

But she was unwilling to confess that she understood him, having a pride in her land and love for her Queen.

"Pardon, your Excellency," she said, "we were speaking of Cyprus."

He pa.s.sed the interruption by as unworthy, being greatly in earnest.

"And the Queen--a very lovely young woman--is a mere figurehead--a p.a.w.n to be moved at the discretion of the higher powers."

"Then, my Lord, it should be seen to that she hath a Council competent to advise," the Lady Margherita retorted with ready indignation, "instead of a horde of traitors."

Her voice took on a higher key in her excitement, and the Admiral laid his hand lightly on her arm to quiet her.

"Dear Dama Margherita," he said, "we have been in conference with His Excellency the Signor Mocenigo--a very remarkable mind--and the Provveditore Vettore Soranzo; and the vacancies in Her Majesty's Council have been filled with men, whom may Heaven keep more loyal!--But _why_ did not the Counts of the Chamber rise up in eager demonstration of interest to put their best men in those vacant seats? And why--are we quite safe to discuss it here?--_why_ did we--having her interests at heart--not dare to ask the great n.o.bles whom we wished to reach, to take those places?"

"It is because of Ja.n.u.s, who hath been heedless and unfair?" she asked reflecting. "For verily the people love the Queen."

"Let us not deceive ourselves out of our very loyalty. The citizens and the nearer peasants hold her in love and reverence: but those of the larger _casals_ and fiefs--the ancient n.o.bles, have the power; and few of these are in her court. I would it were otherwise."

"It is something, your Excellency, to have won the love of the simpler folk as no Queen of this land hath ever done before," the Lady Margherita said staunchly.

"It is something, but not all," he answered; "the n.o.bles are as much to be taken into consideration as the poorer cla.s.ses. It is not all," he repeated with emphasis. "One may win from sympathy--but one must rule a kingdom by power. And the Queen--G.o.d help her!--is a charming child."

"My Lord!"

"A charming child--with a heart developed and matured like a saint; but with a mind untrained to intrigue, unsuspicious of jealousies, unconscious of any injustice wrought by her husband, not apt to comprehend, perhaps, any grievance of the n.o.bles----"

"May we not help her?" Dama Margherita interrupted eagerly. "She would give back the fiefs if she knew that they had been misplaced--that any right had been violated. And now--after these confiscations----"

"Aye, there are more lands to satisfy their demands, it is true. But in their pride they might refuse--let her not wonder at it, nor cease from her courtesies. The n.o.bles are rather sullen than overt in their discontent. They do not want Venetian galleys in their waters--though they must welcome them--nor to do homage to a Venetian for the gift of their own lands. And the restoration is less simple than was the confiscation. For temporary lords have been created and these remain to be reckoned with--even if the will were there."

"I am sure, your Excellency, that the will would not be lacking if this matter were understood; for Her Majesty is fair and generous, and eager to do all her duty by her people. It is of them, and never of herself, that her heart is full."

The old Knight looked at her with kindling eyes as he raised her hand to his lips with the gallantry of the time; yet retaining it in his own and petting it in fatherly fashion, for she had been his daughter's friend from childhood.

"Dear Margherita," he said with emotion, "it is well for our dear Queen that thou art so loyal; and well for our distraught land that thou shouldst be near her." He kissed her hand again as he released it. "I spoke but to try thee, my child. If there are those near her whom we may not trust--it is not thou: I know that a de Iblin could not be disloyal."

"To try me--my Lord----! _Me!_"

She had drawn away from him, wounded and disdainful, her voice thrilling with anger.

But he answered her quietly and sorrowfully. "Could I risk any hurt to thee, cara Dama Margherita, if duty of plainest speech were not imperative? I trust thee wholly--how else could I speak thus with thee?

I have never for a moment doubted thee; yet one might doubt one's own loyalty in this court of Cyprus--where, it is told me, there is a most subtle intriguer who seeketh to do thee harm."

"So it be not those whose esteem is dear to me," she answered wearily, still smarting from the hurt, "what matters it?"

"My child," he pleaded, "if it had not been needful, I should not have told thee; nor told thee _thus_, but that I wished to see if any suspicion of this had dawned upon thee. But thou, like the Queen, art too n.o.ble to soil thy soul with distrust. Yet, bethink thee, for her sake, if there be any within this circle--however fairly spoken--who may be intriguing against thee, yet seeking in secret to disaffect the court in favor of some other claimant."

"Who brought your Excellency this tale?" she asked; "since all may not be trusted?" Her tone was a challenge, and she moved towards the door to close the interview, but the Admiral would not follow.

"Put by thine indignation, Margherita," he answered patiently, "for I have told thee as I would tell my own Alicia, if danger threatened--if somewhat overclumsily it seemeth to a maiden's fancy. It was told me, in confidence, by one of judgment and most loyal honor, whose name I may not reveal, and who besought me that I should warn thee--_thee, Margherita_--who knew thy loyalty staunch as his own."

A slow, pale flush grew on the girl's proud cheek as she listened and her eyes took on a strange light.