XXII
The horror of the night still lay over Caterina like a dense pall,clouding her understanding, when the Chief of Council and the Archbishoppassed between the guards whom Rizzo had placed to watch within thedoors of the Queen's chambers, where, prostrated by anguish and anxiety,one scheme after another for the recovery of her child absorbed her tothe exclusion of all other grief. She looked up dumbly as Rizzo andFabrici drew near her couch--her eyes deep with unspeakable misery.
The Lady Margherita, watching near her, was indignant at the intrusion;she rose and stood before the Queen.
"My Lords, you forget yourselves--Her Majesty hath not summoned you."
"There are moments, my Lady of Iblin, when Majesty is but a farce--andPower need not do it reverence!"
The Queen heard without heeding the words: but the insolent smile on theface of the speaker displeased her. She closed her eyes and turned herhead away, imploring them by a gesture to leave her. She had exhaustedevery argument to induce them to restore her child or even to disclosehis whereabouts--she had pleaded as only a mother may, but in vain; andworn by the unequal contest and all unnerved, she now feared to angerthem further with impotent protests lest she should tempt them tocruelty towards her child.
The Archbishop took a step towards her, pausing for a moment,irresolute, before attempting further coercion. But the cold glitter inthe eyes of his companion urged him to conclude his task, and he spreada paper open on the table beside her.
From pity, or from wile, if not from shame, he assumed a tone ofdeference as he explained:
"Your Majesty, it will be needful at once to send advices to Venice,bearing our condolences for the sad fate of our noble Messrs AndreaCornaro, and the young Seigneur Marco Bembo."
The names roused her: she had been told of their fate, but everythinghad been forgotten in the later anguish. Now she remembered with a sharpsting of pain, and she turned her face toward the speaker, waiting tohear why they stayed to torment her.
"It will be well for your Majesty to sign this writing, which we haveprepared to explain to the Signoria the tragic ending of the quarrel oftheir Excellencies with a band of laborers whom they had refused topay."
Caterina had been gazing fixedly at the Archbishop while he spoke,trying to understand. Now she made a supreme effort to shake off herlethargy, seeming for the moment so like her usual self that the twoconspirators trembled for their schemes.
"The Council hath not found our signature needful for theirextraordinary action of the night," she said. "This letter is of lessconsequence. We pray you to leave us."
Rizzo strove to hearten his colleague with a glance, as the Archbishopproduced the casket which held the Royal Signet and placed it open onthe table beside the letter which the Queen had thrust aside, and whichlacked only the royal signature to be complete. It had been folded andsuperscribed with all due formality and homage.
"_Serenissimo Principe et Domine excellentissimo, Domine NicoloMarcello, Dei gratia inclito duci Venetiarum, etc., Dominecolendissimo._"
The broad band of white-dressed skin by which it was to be closed wasalready fastened to the letter, though it hung loose with the silkenfillets of blue and white which were to attach the great Seal of Janusthe III--the helpless infant king whom his wily ministers had stolenfrom his mother's arms.
Rizzo, opening the casket, stood for a moment gloating over the masteryhe was to achieve with this little instrument of the Great Seal of theKingdom--his triumphant gaze fastened on his scarlet treasure--a prettytoy of wax for such a ruffian to find of consequence, bearing theescutcheons of Jerusalem, of Cyprus, of Armenia and Lusignan, with thenaked sword of Peter the Valiant for a crest; and for _border,encircling_ the Seal, the legend punctuated by heraldic roses--
"_Jacobus, Dei Gratia, 22 us Rex Jherusalem, Cipri et Armenia._"
* * * * *
"_Rizzo, Rex!_"
The Chief of Council syllabled the sweet morsel of his outrageousthought without utterance. There was no further need for any keeper ofthe Privy Seals; there was no longer any need for anyone but Rizzo inthis Council of the Realm!
But Dama Margherita, closely watching and fearing treachery, stolenearer to the table, standing over the open letter which she had readfrom end to end before the Chief of Council, in his absorption, hadperceived her action. Now he felt her condemnatory eyes upon him, likethe merciless gaze of a fate, and he would not look towards her while herudely seized the letter and pushed it nearer to the Queen.
"It is well for your Majesty to understand," he said imperatively, "thatthis matter is not one for choice--but of necessity."
"We do not understand," the Queen answered haughtily, but already hervoice showed failing strength.
"Guards!" cried the Lady Margherita with tingling cheeks, to the men whostood just within the doorway, "arrest these intruders!--They troublethe Queen's peace."
Unconsciously the men took a step forward--the words had rung out like acommand: but Rizzo, with a face of insolent mastery, made a motion whicharrested them, and they knew that their impulse had been a momentarymadness.
"The Child----" Rizzo began in icy tones, speaking with slow emphasis,his eyes fixed upon the Queen.
The mother sprang to her feet, alert on the instant, her strengthsurging back tumultuously--every faculty tense.
"The child is safe--_while your Majesty is careful to fulfil ourpleasure_."
"My Lords," cried Dama Margherita, fearlessly, "the writing on thisparchment is not true."
The hand of the Chief of Council fell to his sword, as if he would havestruck her down--then--remembering that she was but a woman, in spite ofher splendid courage, he withdrew it with a shower of muttered oaths.
"It is the writing which Her Majesty will sign to insure the safety ofher child," he asserted, in uncompromising tones.
The Queen turned from one pitiless face to the other and knew that therewas no hope for her.
"My God, I shall go mad!" she moaned, as she seized the pen withtrembling fingers, unconscious that she had spoken: then in a last,desperate appeal, she cried to Fabrici:
"Most Reverend Father, by your hopes of Heaven, I implore you--give memy boy again! _il mio dilettissimo figlio!_ See, I sign the parchment!"and with feverish strokes she wrote her name; then with hands strainedtightly together, awaited her answer.
Fabrici moved uncomfortably, turning his gaze away from the stricken,overwrought face: his cruel triumph began to seem unworthy.
But Rizzo calmly affixed the Royal Seal, covering it with the smallwooden case prepared for its protection and knotting it firmly in placewith the silken fillets--so careful lest a bruise should show upon thefair, waxen surface--he who could crush a woman's heart to breaking, orwatch the life-blood dripping from some cruel wound that he had made, aslightly as he would drop the red wax for his stolen signet--it was allone to his deadly purpose.
"Thanks, your Majesty," he said, "there are yet other documents to besigned," and he laid them before her.
"My child!" she cried in extremity; "have mercy--restore him to me--Ihave fulfilled your pleasure!"
"Your Majesty hath forgotten these," said Rizzo, "and the penalty--ifthey are left unsigned."
* * * * *
Again she seized the pen and wrote her name as with herlife-blood--great veins starting out on her white forehead, her eyes dimand blurred, her heart beating so that she scarce could trace the wordsthat seemed an irony:
"_Caterina, Regina!_"
"At last!" she gasped, as the pen fell from her hand--"_MadreSanctissima_--they will bring my boy!"
"It is enough that he is safe," the Chief of Council answered her. "Wedid not promise more."
The Archbishop, stout-hearted though he was, felt his soul quail withinhim, as he glanced at the figure of this young mother agonizing for herchild--his Sovereign to whom he had sworn fealty. He turned away fromher to strengthen his resolve, taking a few paces forward, thinkin
gperhaps of that "_act of homage_," over his own signature, dulywitnessed, sealed and recorded in the Libro delle Rimembranze, "_Homagioet fidelta che e obligato a fare a la Magiesta sua, segondo le lege etusanze di questo regno_."
("Homage and faith, which he is obliged to swear to Her Majesty,according to the laws and customs of this realm.")
Margherita turned to Fabrici, who seemed to her less inhuman than Rizzo,for she had noticed the slight weakening in his attitude. "Pardon me,your Grace," she said in a tone of quiet deference; "hath the learnedbody of the Queen's Council no knowledge of the crime of lese-majesty?"
Fabrici made no answer, being conscious-stricken; but Rizzo turned uponher with blazing eyes.
"Beware!" he stormed, "a man, for less, hath paid the forfeit of hislife."
"Life were worth little," she answered undaunted, "if one must forfeitit for speaking truth--or for so poor attempt as mine to spare our Queenin such extremity."
He had looked to see her cower and shrink as men had often done underthe glare of his angry gaze; but she stood before him tall, straight andcalm--so near that he might have felled her to the ground; there was nofear in her deep eyes while she gave him back his look of hatred,unflinching; dimly he realized that this woman had measured the manhoodin him and found it beneath her scorn.
Then--as if he had not been--she turned her gaze from him.
"Your Grace," she said proudly, "it is for the last time,--yourQueen--whom you have sworn to uphold--and I--Margherita, of the mostancient noble house of the de Iblin, who have ever served theirSovereigns with their life--we _demand_ our Prince of you; and allCyprus is with us!"
But if these dastardly usurpers were inexorable, heaven, more merciful,sent the respite of unconsciousness to quiet the mother's anguish justas she could bear no more. Rizzo was speaking when she tottered andfell into the shielding arms of Margherita.
"We may need the infant," he was explaining pitilessly, "to force a deedof renunciation in favor of Alfonso, _Prince of Galilee_."
"A sword thrust were more merciful," cried Margherita, now roused to apassion of scorn. "How may a man dare perjure his soul to bring her tothis!"
Rizzo having nothing further to gain from the interview left the chamberprecipitately, muttering oaths; but the Archbishop lingered, from a dim,dawning sense of compunction, watching helplessly while Dama Margheritaministered to the victim of these Councillors who had been created toassist their youthful Queen in her weary task of ruling.
"More air!" Dama Margherita ordered of the guards, pointing to theclosely barred windows. "Strong wine--and one of Her Majesty's ladies toaid me--I may not leave her for an instant. The Lady of the Bernardiniwere best--will your Grace give the order? We must needs save her lifewhile she hath yet a favor to grant."