The Royal Pawn of Venice

by Mrs. Lawrence Turnbull

  VIII

  Caterina Veneta, Queen of Cyprus, stood on a high balcony of the summerpalace in the Casal of Potamia, one beautiful June morning at earlydawn, waving farewell to the cavalcade of nobles who were winding up thepass that led to the great forests where the patricians of the islandwere wont to pursue their favorite pastime. Janus was among them,leading in the chase as in every art that demanded agility andprowess--lithe, strong and beautiful in her eyes as in the first days oftheir short romance.

  It was the one hour of the torrid day when the air was fragrant with thebreath of flowers and tingling with the freshness of the sea; and in thesparkle of the morning, with sunshine in her heart and love-light in hereyes, she was very fair to look upon.

  The scene had been exhilarating, full of color and motion--laughter andrepartee mingling with the adieux of the knights and seigneurs to theirladies, the notes of the hunting-horns, the snorts of impatient steeds,the short expectant bark of the dogs, as the Master of the hounds, theyoung Count of Jaffa, with his great army of hunters and attendants,moved before the cavalcade into the heart of the forest. A fantastictrain it was, with the picturesque costumes of the riders, the tintedtails of their horses and dogs flashing an orange trail in thesunshine, a touch of coquetry much in vogue among the young Cypriannobles of the day.

  Caterina had watched the start with pride in her husband's grace andcourtly bearing, his beautiful strong youth and the devotion of hischosen group of friends: and the winning charm of his manner, as helooked back with a parting act of homage, brought a flush of pleasure toher cheek. She stood for a moment, her eyes growing deep with deliciousmemories, as she recalled the romance of their first meeting.

  But she was conscious of a little pain at her heart, as she waited,following him with her eyes until the cavalcade was lost to view underthe plumy shadows of the distant cypress-trees. Was it thus that kingsshould spend long summer days when there were rumors of discontent inthe air--rumors definite enough to have reached the palace circle inmysterious undertones, quickly repressed when she turned to ask theirmeaning? Should Janus not have given up his pleasure to stay and examineinto the cause which he had laughed away as a mere nothing--a jest ofsome discontented courtier of one of the old Greek families who had beenin Cyprus before the days of the Lusignans; and all the more if theywere always alert for fancied slights?

  "If he is discontented and it is a mere nothing, why should he not besummoned to state his grievance?" she had persisted, with a trace ofpleading in her attitude that fretted the King. She was not to concernherself with questions of state or popular discontent suggestingunpleasantly the ruling spirit of Helena Paleologue, his father's wife;and he had not brought a girl-bride from Venice to watch his method ofholding the reins!

  His annoyance had been very real under his laughing exterior, as hekissed the tips of her slender fingers in knightly fashion and assuredher that there was nothing to trouble her dainty head about: she shouldkeep her rose-leaf beauty dewy fresh for him, without brooding over thepossible meaning of ancient discontented nobles who belonged to anearlier regime.

  A passing thought came over him while he made his laughing protest, ofthe four conspirators who had just been put to the cruel death whichCyprus reserved for her traitors; but their little game was happilyover, and he dismissed the memory with a slight shrug of his gracefulshoulders. "Was there ever a kingdom without malcontents?" he had asked,turning to his wife. "Was everyone satisfied throughout the length andbreadth of Venetia?"

  She did not know, for she had been a mere child in her Venetian home,without thought for the things of state which few Venetian women dreamedof discussing--still less of influencing. But now, that she was leftalone for a few days, she let her thought dwell upon the question. Waslife more strenuous in Venice, or better ordered? As she recalled theways of her father, the Senator Marco Cornaro, and of the otherstatesmen of his circle, she could not but recognize the fact that thenobles of Venice made the work of the Government their first concern.She would ask her Secretary-Cousin, Aluisi Bernardini; she felt surethat his knowledge and judgment were to be trusted on Venetian matters,although Janus had already told her with unconcealed disdain thatBernardini's opinion was valueless on Cyprian questions, which were newto him--and far too complicated.

  It was not until recently that some dim perception of this complexityhad begun to dawn upon her, athwart the sunshine of her life as brideand queen. When she had first landed on this fabled island she had beentoo much under the influence of the glamour with which her dreams hadinvested Cyprus during the years of her betrothal for any serious studyof conditions, or questions of right and wrong. She had been taught thatkings rule by Divine Right, and no question of succession troubled herconfidence of the people's choice of Janus as their sovereign. For herthere were no disputes to consider, for the troubled state of Cyprus,but too well known in the Council Chambers of the Republic, had neverbeen revealed to her. Janus was the only son of the late King, hisfather, tenderly beloved by him, supported by the Sultan who wasSuzerain of Cyprus, and eagerly welcomed by the people of his realm.These were truths it had been considered wise for her to know, and theyhad been duly declared to her by her monitors of Venice.

  But there were others--conflicting truths--among them the facts of hisbirth and of his contest with Carlotta--with which they haddiplomatically left her to come in contact when there could be nowithdrawal, but which time must unerringly reveal to her, and with nogentle hand.

  The period of rejoicings for the Royal Marriage had been long andbrilliant, as was the custom of the time, and the Coronation-fetes, thejourneyings from city to city of the realm, that she might makeacquaintance with her land and people, had brought them far into theearly spring. But when the excitement of these days was over, she slowlygrew aware of something sinister beneath the smiling surface, and thestudied brilliancy of the atmosphere about her made her fear aconspiracy to keep her in childish ignorance of what was passing withinthe kingdom. But surely, if she were not equal to comprehending thesethings, she must bend herself to the task and try to grow!

  It was of this that the young Queen was thinking as her husband rodeforth with his suite of gay, young nobles to the chase, and she summonedAluisi to her presence.

  Already a blast of heat was rising over the land and the rasping criesof the cicala fretted their talk; and Caterina bade him follow her downinto the _voto_--the vast, cool, underground chambers which, for thepatricians of Cyprus, made life possible during this heated term,between the freshness of the morning and the comfort of the eveningshadows.

  The talk was long and serious.

  "There was never a court without some discontent," he answered lightlyto her questioning; "fair Madame, my cousin and Queen."

  The mingling of protection and affection in his attitude towards her wasso natural in the older man who had known her as the petted child andcousin of their house through the years of intimacy in Venice, that shehad never allowed him to change it when they talked alone together, andit was only in the presence of the court that he taught himself toremember her queenly estate.

  "Nay, Aluisi," she answered, earnestly, "thou art in league with theKing--it was his very answer."

  "It is but truth, in league with truth, most gracious Majesty," heretorted playfully. "Nay--but no league at all; only two liege menspeaking truth; therefore the oneness of speech."

  He had employed the stilted fooling of the period to cover his confusionand to gain time; for the matter was of moment and it had taken himunaware--he did not know how to answer her.

  "Nay, nay, Aluisi--I am distressed; there is some great trouble; Icommand thy knowledge."

  He had never heard her use the word before, and it became her well.

  "Fair cousin, it is not new," he answered deferentially, but pausing tochoose his words, for it was no time to fill her soul with alarms. "Itis, I hear them say, some question of a mutiny in Cerines."

  "It will mean an uprising?--danger for the King?"


  "Nay, have no fear; it was quelled at once."

  "How quelled?"

  "So soon as discovery of the plot was made--before any steps had beentaken to carry out their plans."

  "_How_ quelled?" she asked again, dissatisfied.

  "The manner of it was not reported to me," he answered truthfullyenough; "I knew not that the question would be put to me," he added withan attempt to turn easily from a subject on which he dared not speakfreely to matter more nearly touching his office--of her commands forVenice for the galley that was to sail on the morrow. But meanwhile thevision of horror rose before him of that which he had seen with his owneyes; and lest, watching him so closely she should learn too much, hedropped his gaze, feigning to seek for some items on the tablet he heldin his hand. How should he tell her the story of this plot to influencean uprising, to wrest the stronghold of Cerines for Carlotta, the rivalclaimant and heir? How explain this conspiracy against her husband whenshe probably knew nothing of what lay beneath it? How could he speak ofthe staunch loyalty to Carlotta of the leader of this conspiracy, ofwhom the disaffected were making a hero, and who had preferred any fateto the necessity of swearing fealty to Janus! He had shuddered at thebarbarism which could decree such a fate for the conspirators; nor couldhe forget the horror of those bodies cut in bits, and swung on high, inthe four quarters of the town--a ghastly warning for all men to see--asthey walked to and fro in the marvellous great city of Nikosia--the cityof luxury and of churches.

  But if the treatment of traitors in Venice was scarcely less barbarous,yet the State seemed to each son of the Republic a more awe-inspiringand less personal entity than a kingly head of any other government,justifying severer punishment when betrayed; Venetians had been broughtup to feel that a traitor could ask for no milder fate than to swinghigh upon the Piazzetta between the columns--those who thought otherwisemight avoid looking up as they passed.

  He would not start her questions when it was not for him to answer them.He caught helplessly at some court trifles, trying to evade her mood;but she silenced him with an impatient exclamation.

  When he raised his eyes he found her still watching him, with apathetic, questioning look.

  "They keep things from me, as if I were a child!" she cried indignantly."Can I be a friend to our people if I do not understand them? There aremany things that I would know--the fiefs--the ancient nobles--Carlotta.They told me little in Venice of the things I need to know."

  "What things?" the Chamberlain asked helplessly.

  She looked at him searchingly. "To whom shall I go if not to thee,Aluisi? Art thou not enough my friend to help me?"

  "Messer Andrea, our cousin, being high in favor with his Majesty, hath amore intimate knowledge of Cyprian matters--I being new in the land--whynot appeal to him? Was it not by him that our sweet Lady came hither?"

  She thought of the King's favorite, her Uncle Andrea Cornaro, asBernardini spoke--debonair, charming--yet with a power of scorn andhaughtiness beneath his facile exterior which won him the hatred ofthose who were not his friends. He had not found time for any serioustalk with his niece, who had already appealed to him; indeed he had notime for anything but the brilliant surface life of the court, where hewas a ruling spirit. After his own fashion he had been more than kindand generous to Caterina, showering her with princely gifts, eager thathis niece should keep such estate as befitted the bride of Janus, andproud of his own part in securing so great an honor for the CasaCornaro.

  But among the ancient nobles of Cyprus, there were some who resented theknowledge of their King's great indebtedness to this Venetian nobleman.

  The cousins Cornaro and Bernardini were of the same generation, and noless anxious for the honor of their house, but they represented oppositepoles of Venetian character; Bernardini's gravity and dignity ofdemeanor concealed a depth of tenderness and consideration which herarely confessed, yet, a true Venetian statesman, he could observe insilence, nor use his knowledge until it might be of some avail. The Kingdisliked him, fearing his silent judgment, and was already consideringhow he might get him out of the Queen's household without offense toVenice, whose favor was important for him. Of the Cornaro, although heowed him much, he was less in fear; for Andrea Cornaro was one whom hemight meet with his own weapons. The bearing and deference of Bernardiniwere unimpeachable, but Janus was impatient of his impenetrable reserve.

  Caterina laid her hand affectionately on her cousin's arm, in responseto his question. "Aluisi," she said gravely, "my Uncle Andrea hath beenmore than kind--as to a child who asketh only baubles: but, truly, hewill not see that one may not rest content to be always a child: hethinketh, perchance, that for women there is no duty but to move regallyin the midst of a splendor where he would verily pour out his fortune. Aquestion fretteth his mood, which persistence maketh not more serious.But in a kingdom where discontent hath a share, one must study the heartof the people and win it, if one may. And this is _my_ way to help myhusband. The look of the peasants maketh me weary--as if the sunshineof their beautiful land were not for them. I miss the happy faces of ourpeople of Venice!"

  "It is a queen-like task," he answered her, a little wondering at hergravity and purpose. "Meanwhile I will talk with the King's Chamberlainabout the fiefs and about the old nobility," he continued, eagerlyseizing the least tangled thread to draw this uncomfortable conversationto a close; "would not the Lady Margherita de Iblin know far better thanI? Shall I ask my mother to send her hither?"

  The Lady Margherita--the one of all her Cyprian maids of honor who hadmost warmly won her friendship--there was no older nor more noble familyin the island than the De Iblin; why had she not thought of her before!

  "Aye, bid her come hither," she answered, well-pleased; "we will resttogether in the heat of the day and she shall tell me many things ofCyprus."

  But the Chamberlain felt some uneasiness as he went in search of theCyprian lady who was to be the Queen's companion in more than one long,frank talk. If she were to presume too much upon Caterina's knowledgeand speak too freely, what might happen when the King returned? Might henot vent his displeasure on Aluisi himself? And if he were to bedismissed to Venice, who would watch for her as he could do--protect andhelp her?

  But it was true that she ought not to be kept in ignorance of Cyprianaffairs, and she herself had made the demand.

  In the days that followed, Cyprus began to unfold strange problems forthe Queen, as its story fell from the lips of the young Cyprian womanwhose confidence she had so freely invited.

  "Tell me I pray thee of Carlotta--Sister to the King--all that thouknowest," she said.

  "It is a long tale, your Majesty."

  "And these summer-days will be long, while the King is at the chase; wemust seek wherewith to give them some new interest, for the Court isdull without him," she flushed like a shy, young girl, adding as if tocover her show of feeling: "it is dull with so many absent."

  The Lady Margherita was some years older than Caterina, and she felt thegravity of the task that the Queen had imposed upon her--to tell of thecontest between her husband and his sister: she was silent in herperplexity.

  "It is a matter of history," she said slowly. "Doubtless your Majestyknew that many of us in Cyprus had taken oath of fealty to Carlottabefore the Sultan sent us Janus and upheld him for our King. It is adifficult tale to speak of before our Sovereign lady--whom we love."

  She looked up, a smile transforming her grave, dark face and deep, sadeyes; the rare sweetness and directness of the young Queen's nature hadalready won her reverent love: but suddenly, as the Lady Margheritalooked at her she grew aware of the unsuspected fund of strength beneaththe gracious girlish exterior, realizing that the spring of her actionswould be in true nobility--not in selfish pleasure. Might not some goodfor her dear land come from the enlightened love of its youthful Queen?Yet she hesitated to bring any shadow into the life which had seemed allsunshine during these few months of bridal festivity, and the Queen wasyoung to look at life through such serious eye
s. But she had asked, andthe King, who was still a lover, might be steadied by his wife'sinfluence.

  Caterina put out her hand in response to the smile and clasped that ofMargherita.

  "It is for your Majesty to command silence or speech," the Cyprianmaid-of-honor said tentatively, as Caterina still held silence. "Yet, ifit be speech, I pray your Majesty to remember that it is not I, who amthe cause, if my page of history should offend. If I must speak, it canonly be what I believe to be truth."

  "It is only those who speak truth, my Margherita, of whom one may trustthe friendship," Caterina answered gravely. "And I have chosen thee formy friend."

  A deep flush colored the Cyprian's ivory cheek as she knelt and kissedthe queen's hand in acknowledgment; for the reticent maid had opened herheart, with unwonted warmth, to the appeal of the rare simplicity andforce of her liege lady's gentle nature.

  "I would rather _know_, than fear I know not what," Caterina pursued."Our most Reverend and beloved Patriarch of Venice hath given me thistalisman to help me in my new land," there was a little patheticlingering on the words, which touched her listener, "'Seek to know thetruth concerning _all_ thy people. And tell thy perplexity, if there beany, to Christ and the Madonna.' I would know that I may help the King,"the young wife pleaded.