The Royal Pawn of Venice. Mrs. Lawrence Turnbull
new in the land—why not 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, as Bernardini spoke—debonair, charming—yet with a power of scorn and haughtiness beneath his facile exterior which won him the hatred of those who were not his friends. He had not found time for any serious talk with his niece, who had already appealed to him; indeed he had no time for anything but the brilliant surface life of the court, where he was a ruling spirit. After his own fashion he had been more than kind and generous to Caterina, showering her with princely gifts, eager that his niece should keep such estate as befitted the bride of Janus, and proud of his own part in securing so great an honor for the Casa Cornaro.
But among the ancient nobles of Cyprus, there were some who resented the knowledge of their King's great indebtedness to this Venetian nobleman.
The cousins Cornaro and Bernardini were of the same generation, and no less anxious for the honor of their house, but they represented opposite poles of Venetian character; Bernardini's gravity and dignity of demeanor concealed a depth of tenderness and consideration which he rarely confessed, yet, a true Venetian statesman, he could observe in silence, nor use his knowledge until it might be of some avail. The King disliked him, fearing his silent judgment, and was already considering how he might get him out of the Queen's household without offense to Venice, whose favor was important for him. Of the Cornaro, although he owed him much, he was less in fear; for Andrea Cornaro was one whom he might meet with his own weapons. The bearing and deference of Bernardini were unimpeachable, but Janus was impatient of his impenetrable reserve.
Caterina laid her hand affectionately on her cousin's arm, in response to his question. "Aluisi," she said gravely, "my Uncle Andrea hath been more than kind—as to a child who asketh only baubles: but, truly, he will not see that one may not rest content to be always a child: he thinketh, perchance, that for women there is no duty but to move regally in the midst of a splendor where he would verily pour out his fortune. A question fretteth his mood, which persistence maketh not more serious. But in a kingdom where discontent hath a share, one must study the heart of the people and win it, if one may. And this is my way to help my husband. The look of the peasants maketh me weary—as if the sunshine of their beautiful land were not for them. I miss the happy faces of our people of Venice!"
"It is a queen-like task," he answered her, a little wondering at her gravity and purpose. "Meanwhile I will talk with the King's Chamberlain about the fiefs and about the old nobility," he continued, eagerly seizing the least tangled thread to draw this uncomfortable conversation to a close; "would not the Lady Margherita de Iblin know far better than I? Shall I ask my mother to send her hither?"
The Lady Margherita—the one of all her Cyprian maids of honor who had most warmly won her friendship—there was no older nor more noble family in 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 rest together in the heat of the day and she shall tell me many things of Cyprus."
But the Chamberlain felt some uneasiness as he went in search of the Cyprian 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 knowledge and speak too freely, what might happen when the King returned? Might he not vent his displeasure on Aluisi himself? And if he were to be dismissed to Venice, who would watch for her as he could do—protect and help her?
But it was true that she ought not to be kept in ignorance of Cyprian affairs, and she herself had made the demand.
In the days that followed, Cyprus began to unfold strange problems for the Queen, as its story fell from the lips of the young Cyprian woman whose confidence she had so freely invited.
"Tell me I pray thee of Carlotta—Sister to the King—all that thou knowest," she said.
"It is a long tale, your Majesty."
"And these summer-days will be long, while the King is at the chase; we must seek wherewith to give them some new interest, for the Court is dull without him," she flushed like a shy, young girl, adding as if to cover her show of feeling: "it is dull with so many absent."
The Lady Margherita was some years older than Caterina, and she felt the gravity of the task that the Queen had imposed upon her—to tell of the contest between her husband and his sister: she was silent in her perplexity.
"It is a matter of history," she said slowly. "Doubtless your Majesty knew that many of us in Cyprus had taken oath of fealty to Carlotta before the Sultan sent us Janus and upheld him for our King. It is a difficult tale to speak of before our Sovereign lady—whom we love."
She looked up, a smile transforming her grave, dark face and deep, sad eyes; the rare sweetness and directness of the young Queen's nature had already won her reverent love: but suddenly, as the Lady Margherita looked at her she grew aware of the unsuspected fund of strength beneath the gracious girlish exterior, realizing that the spring of her actions would be in true nobility—not in selfish pleasure. Might not some good for 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 all sunshine during these few months of bridal festivity, and the Queen was young to look at life through such serious eyes. But she had asked, and the King, who was still a lover, might be steadied by his wife's influence.
Caterina put out her hand in response to the smile and clasped that of Margherita.
"It is for your Majesty to command silence or speech," the Cyprian maid-of-honor said tentatively, as Caterina still held silence. "Yet, if it be speech, I pray your Majesty to remember that it is not I, who am the cause, if my page of history should offend. If I must speak, it can only be what I believe to be truth."
"It is only those who speak truth, my Margherita, of whom one may trust the friendship," Caterina answered gravely. "And I have chosen thee for my friend."
A deep flush colored the Cyprian's ivory cheek as she knelt and kissed the queen's hand in acknowledgment; for the reticent maid had opened her heart, with unwonted warmth, to the appeal of the rare simplicity and force 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 this talisman to help me in my new land," there was a little pathetic lingering on the words, which touched her listener, "'Seek to know the truth concerning all thy people. And tell thy perplexity, if there be any, to Christ and the Madonna.' I would know that I may help the King," the young wife pleaded.
IX
And now, by the Queen's command which might not be denied, the talk flowed through the days of leisure during the absence of the King, while Caterina strolled with her Cyprian maid of honor through the terraced gardens in the cool of the evening, or rested in the heat of the day, in the shaded apartments of the voto. The girl-queen listened with breathless eagerness to the strange revelations, often interrupting with passionate exclamations, for her short taste of Cyprian life had been so colored with the glamour of love and happiness and the excitement of her novel surroundings that the vague forebodings which were beginning to temper the brilliancy had suggested no serious shadows.
In vain Donna Margherita pleaded that she might be allowed to put the theme aside, as she told of the disaffection of some of the ancient nobles of Cyprus who had been despoiled of vast estates because of their sympathy with Queen Carlotta. "But Janus was ever generous," said Margherita, "and none of their riches went into the King's treasury, but always into the hands of those nobles who were loyal to the new Government."
The new Government! Queen Carlotta! The young Venetian's hot resentment rose fiercely against the Republic which had left her in such ignorance of Cyprian matters while she turned her proud young head away that Margherita might not guess how little the name of Carlotta