VII
Never was a more brilliant pageant imagined to do honor to the symbolicrite of the _Wedding of the Adriatic_ than the triumphant Signoria hadcalled forth to speed the young Queen to her distant island.
Never did father more solemnly promise his protection to the child fromwhom he was parting, than did Cristoforo Moro, the Serenissimo, pledgethe faith and support of Venetia to the Daughter of the Republic, aswith slow majesty, to the rhythm of an ancient wedding canticle, theBucentoro, escorted by all the galleys of the arsenal of Venice, themighty galleasses of her patrician merchants and the gondolas of hernobles, moved forward, beyond the Lido, where the Ambassador FilippoPodacatharo waited with the fleet of Cyprus--most sumptuouslyoutfitted--to receive the bride of Janus.
And never sailed fairer maiden, more fearlessly, into the far sea of herunknown future, flooded with dreams, as with sunshine. Was it only aglamour, tissued of myth and of legend, that lay on the face of thewaters, dazzling her eyes?
The rejoicings of the people speeded her; the bells of all the campaniliof Venice came echoing to the shores of the Lido; a tumult ofvoices--the voices of the _popolazzo_, shrill and jubilant, called downthe blessings of all the saints upon her--of Santa Caterina--her ownname-saint, fair patron of Betrothals; of charming San Luigi--theblessed guardian of love; of San Nicolo, Saint of the Sea; of MesserSan Marco and San Tadoro; and shrilly, above them all, rose the babel ofwomen's voices, invoking the Madonna, "Star of the Sea, Sancta Maria!"
But most of all, deep within her girlish soul, love speeded her--love,grown strong through these years of waiting on the image she hadfashioned for herself as the portrait of her lord--painted with all theglowing lights of a true and gracious heart that knew no shadows.
As the galleys passed beyond the Lido into the wider water and theDaughter of Venice stood in her royal wedding-robes beside the Doge,under the golden canopy of the Bucentoro, a rosy light flashing from thecirclet of rubies which, like the espousal ring of the Serenissimo, hadbeen consecrated with solemn mass and benediction by the Patriarch ofVenice,--did the words of the ancient rite occur to some among thatthrong of nobles, perchance, as an omen?
"_Sea, we wed thee, in token of our true and perpetual dominion overthee._"
But now, with a memory of the gracious legend of San Francisco delDeserto--that where the birds should light the favor of Heaven wouldfollow, as they passed the convent on their outward way, a multitude ofbirds set free from their golden cages burst upon the air with a floodof song, inspired by their sudden liberty, then came throbbing andoverwrought, to seek shelter among the silken sails of the Cypriangalleys--mere specks of iridescence, flashing like jewels in a chanceray of sunlight.
The people saw and shouted, "_Benedizion della Madonna! Viva Messer SanMarco! Viva la Regina!_"
When the chimes of the campanili had dimmed to a faint cadence, likesome unuttered rhythm of thought, as the distance grew between theoutsailing fleet and all that pageantry of Venice, two faces stood forthlike visions from the bewildering pictures of the morning and dwelt withCaterina forever.
The pleading face of the Mother deep with tenderness, yet shadowed by anunspoken dread of the unknown that lay beyond:
And the gaze of the saintly Patriarch, Lorenzo Giustiniani, full ofstrength and inspiration.
* * * * *
It was early summer, when the mere living was a joy; and there was muchtime for gracious dreaming as the galleys of Cyprus floated down thelength of the Adriatic and past the fair coasts of the Mediterranean,before the coming of that wonderful day of days when the bridal fleetwas nearing the shores of the _Isola Fortunata_ which had been for longthe Mecca of the young Queen's girlish visions.
It lay before her radiant under the Cyprian sky--palaces and rampartsstretching in long lines a-down the coast, against the background ofmountain ranges, densely wooded and crowned with the sparkling snows ofTroodos; there were gardens rainbow-dyed in bloom, cool with the sprayof fountains and the shadows of waving palms; and between the citieswere wonderful, fertile plains flowing down to the foam of the sea--avision of tangled blossoms wreathing with beauty the shattered splendorof temples of outworn divinities, or rippling with tasselled corn andvines and all manner of fruit-bloom, in luxuriant promise of presentgood.
What could there be but happiness in such a home! Already the spell ofthe fabled Cyprian isle was upon her,--could she ever forget this firstvision of her land of dreams--fairer than even her hope had limned it!
As she stood with beating heart, waiting with impatience that she scarcecould bear for the first touch of her new, strange shore, for the firstglimpse of her lover's face--all her pulses tuned to this harmoniousrhythm of sky and sea and romance, it was told her that a messengerwaited to speak with her.
"Let him approach," she said, turning half-unwilling to watch a knightwho advanced, unattended, bearing a missive with the pendant royal sealof Cyprus that she knew so well. He knelt before her, vizor down, yetwith the customary homage; then, rising--
"I am sent by his Majesty the King," he said, "to bear his greeting tohis most gracious Sovereign Lady, or ever her foot shall touch the shorewhich blossoms for her alone."
She drew a little pace away from him, fearing to utter her thought untilshe had seen his face.
"Doth it become one so to speak the message of his King, with _visordown_, Sir Knight, to the bride whom his Majesty would honor?" sheanswered half-playfully--yet a little bashful in her first speech in theGrecian tongue which she had striven to make her own.
"Our Sovereign Lady doth answer right royally," he said, as he bowed hisacquiescence in her command, passing his helmet to one of the knightswho came thronging behind him, and stood confronting her--very courteousand deferent in his bearing, though the breeze was tossing his wavinghair about his throat with a hint of comradery, and there was a world oflove and mastery in his charming face.
Her own--very fair and true and radiant with girlish beauty--flushed,then paled again, with the quickened beating of her heart, and her eyes,eloquent in confession, were fixed on his, which deepened to a glow ofpride and pleasure; yet he was loth to make an end of her charmingconfusion.
"Hath this missive from his Majesty no meaning for his bride of Venice?"he asked, coming nearer.
"Janus!" she cried--all her soul shining in her eyes; and then, in herown soft, Italian tongue:
"How should my heart _not_ know thee!"
The Royal Pawn of Venice Page 7
