The Royal Pawn of Venice. Mrs. Lawrence Turnbull
booths of the old, wooden Rialto, hung on the outskirts of the crowd before Sér Gobbo, to catch from the gossip of the more lettered ones about him the details of the morrow's festa which he might not read for himself; for the knowledge would make him the oracle of his little circle in Burano—or at least with Giovanna, when he should bestow his silken trifle for the morrow's splendor. For, of course all Venice would be there to see the queen set forth.
"Santa Maria!—the Serenissimo himself upon the Bucentoro will escort the Regina. Heard one ever such splendor!"
"And at the Lido—hast heard, Tonio?—by favor of San Marco and San Nicolò, the gondolieri with their barchette may float in line to make our part of the festa. Oh, the beautiful day!"
"And the Signoria, and all the nobili! and the court of the young Regina—and all the banners and the barca—most beautiful to behold—one might die of the splendor of it, Santissima Maria!"
"Aye, Giuseppe, and the music of all the fleets!—it will be like heaven, if Messer San Marco doth but send the sunshine and the breeze."
"Nay, he could not fail his Venice for a festa that doth him such honor; Messer San Marco è galant uomo! But how then, Tonio, thou hast a sposalizio of thine own—with thy string of coral and thy fazzoletto fit for a Signorina: the bells will be chiming for thee to-morrow?"
"Basta, basta!" Tonio responded with commendable gruffness, considering his contentment at heart, as he hastily retreated to his gondola under the Rialto for needed shelter from the banter which followed him, until some other unwary victim became the centre of the well-meant pleasantry.
"Wait then for a day, Tonio mio, and the Bucentoro will be ready for thee," cries one of the more daring as he vanishes; "hast thou already bespoken thy groomsman? I also am a Castellan."
Across the Piazza San Giacomo, under the famous colonnade of San Giacomo di Rialto, the talk turned chiefly on the great event which was to culminate on the morrow, and which for three years had consumed much time in Senate and State, as the patricians strolled to and fro in lively discussion.
It was here that for generations everything that affected the commerce of Venice was held up in the light of expression as free and candid as it was possible for opinion to be in this highly organized oligarchy; and here as elsewhere, Venice, like a faithful mother, watched over the welfare of her sons, though they were grown to man's estate; and since her commerce was, in fact, the mainspring of her wealth and prestige—a very vital part of her—she kept before their eyes on the exterior of this ancient church in the market-place where her merchant-princes daily met, her admonition to uphold them in righteous dealing. One might decipher it wrought into the wall of the apse under the stones of the frieze, in quaint lettering that tempted to the perusal and endowed the mastered motto with the impressiveness of a rite—for the legend assumed a quality of mystery, being much defaced from time.
"Hoc circa templum sit jus mercatoribus æqum, pondera ne vergant nec sit conventio prava."
(Around the Temple let the merchant's law be just, his weights true, and his covenant faithful.)
Among the frescoes on the walls under the colonnade was the famous mappa mondo, upon which were indicated the various routes of Venetian commerce throughout the world.
Two dignified elderly men wearing the black silk robe of the merchant with chains of heavy gold links were strolling to and fro in eager conversation—their comrades showing signs of deference as they passed.
"Cyprus will seem nearer now," said one of them, pausing for a moment before the map to point out a speck in the Mediterranean with his gold-topped staff.
"A century nearer than it was in the days of Comnenus," the other answered him, with a recollection of the attempted purchase and occupancy of the island in those earlier times. "But now—praise be to San Marco, the time is ripe."
"And Venice hath never ceased to covet that 'Island of Delights!' But now her fleets may lie at anchor in the splendid port of Famagosta while she taketh her leisure in dealing with the merchants of the East; for the King of Cyprus must aye keep faith with the Republic."
"Yet let Venice beware," the other answered, lowering his voice to a confidential tone. "It is not over-easy to hold His Majesty to any faith or compact, by what one may guess from the talk of the Senate: but the favor of Venice is needful to him."
"And none the less that there be those who favor him not. Genoa is wroth at him for having chased them from Famagosta—the most marvellous stronghold in the world, if one may credit Messer Andrea Cornaro, the friend of the King."
"He spake truly, from what I myself should have guessed thereof—getting no closer to the Fortress than any Cyprian might have done six years ago, when I had gone with my fleet to the Syrian Coast for a marvellous cargo of spices, and Cyprus tempted me to a voyage of pleasure, being not so far—the sail of a day with a fair galley. The Genoese held the great Fortress and the splendid city of Famagosta and the country for miles around; an enemy entrenched in the very heart of a kingdom! Small wonder that King Janus, being of a most laudable prowess, should claim his own again—which won him laurels, for the Cyprians had been sore over the matter. Aye; Cyprus is good for the commerce of Venice, and it would be a hard day when the ships of the Republic might not harbor in her waters. And if the good of Venice be the good of Cyprus—the amity is the more like to last!"
"Aye, for the commerce it is well—most truly well. But there will be too many of our patrician daughters in the suite of the young queen when she shall sail on the morrow. I could more easily have spared fewer."
"They are but charming childish faces; and they have left their sisters behind them—they and the little Caterina; it is well that the bride should make a brave showing at the court of Cyprus—which is held for a marvel of splendor."
"Thou knowest it, Messer Querini, having been there?"
"Nay—not at court—it is Messer Andrea Cornaro who will tell of it. But I passed some days at Nikosia, on my way back from Alexandria, and verily the cities were twins for richness. The beauty of the churches—one for each day of the year through—we of Venice may not at all equal, save in our Basilica of San Marco;—the precious altars inlaid with gold and jewels—like our Pala d'Oro that cometh not forth of our treasury save on days of festa; finest statues of ivory and silver; great carven columns wrought like our columns of Acre—but vaster and of that same fineness of workmanship: and such broideries of golden thread and great pearls for draperies and altar-cloths, as one may scarce dream of! And in their market-places, strewn with the spoils of the East are faces and voices of every clime and a very babel of tongues; more—far more than on our own Rialto; with schools for every language. And I saw a thing in Nikosia that in all my journeyings I have not met with before."
"Thy tales are more piquant than the tales of Marco Polo," his friend said rallying him.
"All is marvellous of which thou hast not hitherto known, though it be simpler than thou art wont to behold. So I found strange and noble, a great building already a century and a half old, in the heart of this sumptuous city, whereon it was signified by a writing cut into the stone, that all men of every clime who but confess the name of Christus, being ill or needy, should receive therein, freely given, rest and entertainment."
"If the entertainment were of the wines of Cyprus it would be verily a gift: for these one may even taste who hath not been in her great cities."
"Truth is truth." the other assented. "And that wine of the Commanderie"—the dignified speaker interrupted himself with slow unmistakable signs of approval—"I will make it known to thee to-morrow at the banquet. And her ortolans!—It is a rich land: the Senate hath done well."
"How sayest thou, 'the Senate hath done well?' Is it not that we are losing too many of our own patricians, rather than coming into favor of Cyprus?"
"How 'losing them'—to win relations that be wise for Venice? Andrea Cornaro hath never been one to keep himself at rest in his palace at San Cassiano, and through his wandering hath