The Royal Pawn of Venice

by Mrs. Lawrence Turnbull

  XIX

  The moon had waned and the night was starless when the chimes of SanNicolo told three of the morning in low melodious tones like a voicefrom dreamland, breaking no slumber.

  Suddenly the sharp wild clangor of the great alarum-bell of Famagostacrashed through the silence.

  The citizens sprang from their sleep with cries of terror and rushed tothe windows; but, alas, they had _not_ dreamed that dreaded dangersignal which kept up its fateful toll. Already men, fully armed, werehurrying through the streets that led to the Piazza; whence came echoesof voices talking in quick, awe-struck tones--the flash of torches--ahorseman dashing down from the castle to the walls at the port--soundsof excited action ringing back from the ramparts--the quick gallop of acavalier rushing to join his command.

  What might it mean!

  Commander Saplana moved calmly out among his mounted suite, fullyequipped, from the Castle into the Piazza; yet there had not been manymoments in which to make ready since the first notes of that wild alarumhad sounded!

  Those among the citizens entitled to bear arms were quickly accoutredand dashed out to mingle with the throng.

  "What is it?" men questioned of each other--but no one knew.

  Had the Genoese returned to storm by night this post of vantage so longtheir own--and still so coveted?

  Were the Turks upon them?

  Was it some intrigue of Ferdinand of Naples?

  Was it treason?

  Was it Carlotta come from Rhodes, with men-at-arms, to surprise them?

  There was stealthy talk of a foreign galley in the port.

  Some one had noted strange sailors in the throng: one might not be sureof the letters on their caps, because of the darkness: but they wereChristians--not Turks--thanks be to the Madonna!

  "But the Queen is safe, _Sanctissima Vergine_! The Queen is in theCastle."

  "There is His Excellency, Maestro Gentle, physician to Her Majesty, hepasseth but now, the glimmer of his mail beneath his cloak! Holy saints!A gray-haired man, rushing out into the night--thinking first of theQueen and of her safety! The Madonna will be good to her!"

  The old court physician gave the password at the castle-gate andentered.

  The Signor Andrea Cornaro rode forth from his palace, fully armed, andwith him Marco Bembo, cousin to the Queen--surely, they would know! Thecitizens called to them urgently for some explanation of the tumult, butthey passed swiftly by to the palace of the Bailo, the VenetianResident.

  But the Bailo gave them no comfort.

  "I know naught of the trouble," he answered them, "save that warninghath been sent me by His Excellency, the Count of Tripoli, that it werewiser that I keep within."

  "Then art thou the more needed!" burst from the lips of Cornaro, madedesperate by this coolness; "for it well may be that the Count ofTripoli is a traitor set high in trust!"

  But the Bailo listened to their importunate pleadings as if it were atrifle.

  "Come with us swiftly to the Queen! By all the saints in heaven!--sheshould have her own about her in this danger--whate'er it be!"

  "Nay," he said, and would not move. "This is a place of intrigue--andwarning hath been sent me. It is, perchance, some one who seeketh mylife."

  There was no time to parley.

  "Haste thee to the royal palace," the elder man said to his nephew, asthey galloped away, "and bring from thence, with all speed, the Queen'sChamberlain, the Bernardini--there is none more loyal. Let none hinderthee."

  "I serve our house and our honor!" young Marco called back to him, as heput his horse to the spur.

  "I go at once to Caterina," his uncle answered reassuringly, turning thehead of his good steed towards the castle--a place of security indeed--afortress famed as impregnable.

  * * * * *

  The Royal Palace was doubly guarded--as never before, and Marco when hereached it, plead in vain for admission.

  "By order of the Council of the Realm, no man might enter."

  "Then take, I pray thee, this message to His Excellency, the Chamberlainof the Queen, and bid him come hither--it is for life or death."

  A golden coin, with the head of Janus stamped upon it, glittered in hispalm. The valiant guard received the gift and refused the message.

  "No man shall enter, nor leave this palace to-night: by order of theCouncil of the Realm."

  "I bring an order from His Excellency, Andrea Cornaro, Auditor of HerMajesty, and member of the Council of the Realm," Marco pleadeddesperately.

  "_Our_ orders are of the _Chief of Council_, the Signor MarinRizzo--whom to disobey this night _is death_."

  The foremost guard of the line had led the defense: and among them allthere was no motion to favor this young cousin of their Queen. He was aknight, and brave at arms--but to have fought that band meant certaindeath; and at the castle, one might, perchance, help the Queen!

  "There are some with Caterina to help her," he thought in his loyalheart, as baffled at the palace, he pushed his way across the Piazza andreached the entrance to the castle, "and here she is surely safe."

  The Count of Zaffo, her aged Councillor and friend, had risen from asick-bed to go to her; he had been first to enter the castle-court. "Soill, that he scarce could hold himself upon his palfrey," some one toldthe young knight in the crowd, in answer to his question.

  "The old Councillor scarce could strike a blow for her," thought Marco;"but it is good that he should be within: for his devotion to Caterinais known. And Messer Andrea is there!"

  He drew breath more freely for this gleam of comfort, as he gave theusual password.

  But the guard was obdurate.

  "It is not the password for this night, my Lord."

  "I pray thee--I am cousin to Her Majesty, and _must_ have speech withher."

  "Eccellenza; by order of the castellan, none may pass, save those whogive the word."

  "Then call me hither the castellan."

  "The password hath been given by the Chief of the Council of the Realm;and without it, the gates may not be opened," the castellan answeredwithout preamble, when he appeared for an instant before the slide inthe great gate--as quickly closed, though he had recognized a member ofthe Queen's family.

  "Had his uncle known the password and forgotten to give it to him?"Marco questioned in some anxiety, as he made his way, baffled again,through the crowd in the Piazza, which was growing denser and moreexcited. "And if he had not known it----?"

  He quickened his pace--his horse alert to obey his will, fretting withdilated nostril and pawing hoof at their frequent interruptions.

  The citizens had gathered in force, but no one of them knew the cause ofthe commotion, and they were not immediately formidable in the midst ofthis armed body of knights and soldiers who kept secret council andobeyed the slightest word of their commanders. Marco searched theirfaces, as well as he might for the uncertain glare of the torches, butin vain. If he could but find General Visconti and his men, they mightcut their way into the fortress--they, being Venetians, were surelyloyal to the Queen!

  His brain was in a whirl--he could think of nothing that was best, everymoment might count--yet he crossed and recrossed his steps, turning downdark streets and back again into the Piazza; he was no longer sure ofthe safety of the castle; he was growing desperate.

  But Visconti's men did not reveal themselves, and Marco worked his wayout of the Piazza--since they surely were _not_ there, and since no hintof what was passing within the fortress came from behind theporte-cullis--the single opening upon the square.

  Little did he dream that Visconti's men, _because they were Venetiansand known to be in sympathy with the Queen_ were kept that night, byorder of the Council of the Realm, in close detention.

  The troop of horse stood impassible before the entrance and the sentryas tranquilly kept guard upon the turrets, as Marco passed them on hisway to a small gate upon the seaward side which he had once noticed andnow hoped had been forgotten, and where, in truth he entered
when hereached it; for it had not been thought important by the planners ofthis night's strange revel--possibly because few knew of it, or perhaps,because there were none from the port who would not be welcome, for thefleets of Venice were known to be at anchor off the coasts of Turkey,having sailed thither in glad and unsuspecting temper after thecourtesies of the baptismal and coronation fetes.

  * * * * *

  It chanced that it was through this same small, unguarded doorway thatAndrea Cornaro had passed when--unaware of the new password for thenight and zealously kept in ignorance thereof by his colleagues inoffice--he had been denied admission at the great gate upon the Piazza.As all persuasion brought him the more strenuous denial, he felt sure ofsome perfidy and the more bent upon reaching his niece at allhazards--for he was not one to be easily overcome by obstacles.

  Meanwhile, Messer Andrea, Auditor to the Queen and Member of the Councilof the Realm, had meant to scale the walls by the seaside and fight hisway, hand to hand if need be, to the Queen's side, when he had chancedupon this little gate upon the moat so long unused that its rusty boltyielded without over-much persuasion to his pressure from without. Thefirst court upon which it gave entrance--being the farthest from thePiazza--was dark and deserted, and he passed, without resistance intothe second court, finding it also empty, except for the sentry passingto and fro on his monotonous duty.

  The man saluted as he offered the usual password, then, recognizing oneof the Queen's Council, presented arms.

  Here, at least, all was tranquil--possibly his fears had been too great.

  But from the third court--the one first entered from the Piazza, therecame as he neared the arched passage that led from court to courtthrough the thickness of the massive walls, hints of commotion that madehim pause to consider whether he might not more surely reach the Queenby some other stairway.

  As he drew back into the shadow to make some farther plan, the Count ofTripoli, with Rizzo di Marin, Chief of Council, came through, from thefirst court, followed by one or two mounted nobles, questioning thesentry as to whether anyone had passed that way, and he heard the mangive his name.

  "Sua Eccellenza, Messer Andrea Cornaro."

  The Count of Tripoli repeated this answer, with an accent of surprise.

  "He gave the password?" he questioned, sternly.

  "_Eccellenza, si--come sempre._"

  Andrea Cornaro, to whom fear was unknown, thinking himself called,immediately responded, coming forward into the light.

  "I have somewhat to discuss with thee," Rizzo said nonchalantly. "Wilthave a mount? We will go forth upon the ramparts and see whether all bein order."

  "I have but left my horse," Cornaro answered, calling the animal to himwith a motion of his hand, "but I would first know of this tumult." Hekept his hand upon the bridle and remained standing, while he lookedsearchingly from Rizzo to Tripoli, the Governor of Famagosta.

  "What is this tumult?" he repeated angrily, seeing them not quick toanswer.

  "Nay, Friend, how knowest thou not? being of the Council--as we:" Rizzoanswered with a hint of provocation in his tone. "It is but somedifference of the soldiers as to rations and pay: it threatened mutinyand had to be met. It will be put down. Mount then, your Excellency."

  "'Rations,' and 'pay,'" Cornaro answered scornfully, "to rouse the cityand 'put it down'--at dead of night!"

  "Aye: since they chose this time for their own deed of darkness, wemen-at-arms may not be dainty about the hour of retribution."

  "The Queen--my niece," said Andrea, taking a sudden resolution andthrowing the reins across his horse's neck; "I will first go to her.Later I wait thy pleasure, Signor Rizzo; on the ramparts, or where thouwilt.--This is no lightsome night for a woman--a mere girl."

  "'A woman'--'a mere girl'!"--the Chief of Council began tauntingly.

  Cornaro's hand was upon his sword.

  "_Scusi!_" Rizzo said, suavely, being not yet ready for the break. "Imeant no disrespect--but she is young to rule. If thou wilt take thyhorse, we will first seek the Queen, who would speak with thee. Nay--notby that court--the winding mount is quieter."

  The Count of Tripoli and his companions had already left them and passedinto the first court, in eager converse; but Cornaro was scarcely in thesaddle before a sudden great uproar in the streets of the city beyondthe fort arrested them. Cries, as of many men in concert, proclaimingAlfonso, son of Ferdinand of Naples, Prince of Galilee and Heir to theCrown of Cyprus--"by order of the _Council of the Realm_:" deafeningshouts and threats of the citizens, protesting:--sounds of clashes ofarms, terrorizing the people:--the sudden crash of the alarum bell,bursting forth anew to drown their protests:--

  Then again the traitorous cries, passing off through the more distantstreets of the city:

  "_Viva Alfonso--Prince of Galilee and Heir to the Crown of Cyprus!_"

  "What meaneth this insolence!" Cornaro cried, white with passion andinstantly drawing his sword.

  * * * * *

  The Neapolitan was not braver than the Venetian--but with an infinitelycooler brain, well-skilled in villany and intrigue and troubled by nosense of honor, he seized his opportunity, and when his victim's arm wasraised, he dealt him a desperate blow on the head which hurled him, withstunning force from his horse. And then, upon the pavement of thecastle-court, having him at disadvantage and senseless from the blow,the valiant Chief of Council, cruelly and like no loyal knight, summonedhis mercenaries to his aid and dispatched his enemy with quicksword-thrusts, bidding them toss the lifeless body into the moat thatcircled the castle walls.

  The faithful horse was the solitary mourner who watched his unconsciousmaster while life was ebbing and sought to comfort him with mournfulwhinnies of almost human affection.

  * * * * *

  Had the young knight Marco Bembo but known of his uncle's barbarousmurder, and that the white-haired Councillor Zaffo lay foullyslaughtered in the first court of the castle because of his great crimeof loyalty to the Queen, he might have paused before he attempted toforce an entrance to the fortress. And yet he would not--being loyal asthe venerable Councillor himself, and as full of bravery as AndreaCornaro; the thought of the Queen's greater need would but have spurredhis courage.

  The young Venetian had reached the second court without molestation,when he turned to silence the cry that came from a swaggering band ofsailors who had followed him and were shouting for "Alfonso--Prince ofGalilee!" They fell upon him at the signal from Rizzo which marked himguilty--for was he not a Venetian?

  "_E tu, traditor!_"

  The words rang out unanswered, save by his desperate sword.

  They were but six, and he was standing against treason, for the Queenand the honor of his house!

  He fought them all, without a groan, until his strength was spent; andthey, eager to do the will of this ruffianly king-maker, who was winninga fresh coronet for their Prince of Naples--this man of force who wouldmake much booty possible--fought six to one, and spared not.

  And then, by bidding of their Chief, they flung the palpitating,tortured, lifeless remnant of what--one little hour before--had been aloyal, noble, winsome man, dreaming of duty and high achievement--intothe horror of the moat by the pitiful wreck of Andrea Cornaro--the twomurdered for the double crimes of relationship and loyalty to thetrembling girl-Queen.