XXIX
For days after the visit of Hagios Johannes, Caterina scarcely spoke, ornoticed what was passing around her; and the Lady of the Bernardini andDama Margherita, with hearts aching from the burden of their pity, werehelpless before such desolation.
But at last the young Queen turned to them with mournful eyes ofcomprehension, holding out her hands to clasp theirs in a convulsivepressure, rousing herself heroically from her absorption and nerving herdormant will to meet the unwelcome stress of life again.
"The Holy Mother hath left you for me to love," she said in a tremulousvoice. "Life is not all a blank."
They could not answer her for tears; but her own eyes were dry.
"I thought," she said, "if it might but have been the will of Christthat death should come to me--also"--she paused a moment to steady hervoice, "it would have been sweet--I was so weary. And when it did notcome to lift me out of the shadow, I longed to carry my broken heartinto some holy Sisterhood and be at rest--I felt no strength to live. Ithought it might have been the will of the Madre Sanctissima, for shehath suffered; and I know not how to live without my _figliodilettissimo_."
Then suddenly she clasped her hands crying out with the passion ofprayer:
"My God! I would have trained him for thee! He should have been a nobleman and a Christian King. Why hast Thou stricken me!"
She turned to them wide-eyed with her question but the Lady Beata, foranswer, could only fold compassionate arms about her--soothing hersilently; so young and so bereft.
But Caterina struggled into quiet speech again, as in aconfessional--sorely needing some comfort of human sympathy after herlong, silent conflict.
"I thought it might have been the will of the Blessed Mother that Ishould rest; but Hagios Johannes hath shown me that it might not be; Ihave taken my vows again to serve my people--to live for them; the padrehath promised me that strength shall come."
Her lip quivered, but she bore herself bravely. "Thou wilt help me,Zia," she continued, in pathetic appeal, "and thou, my Margherita; forlife is difficult. And Aluisi--he will think what must be done for thepeople until my strength returneth--for I have forgotten how to think."She pressed her hands tightly against her forehead as if to compel theresistant brain-power.
Then suddenly she laid her hot, trembling hand on that of hercompassionate, motherly friend, her voice rising into a wail--"FatherJohannes hath said that I must give the people all the love I gave mybaby--but not yet--I cannot do it yet!--Mother of Sorrows forgiveme!--_he doth not know_."
She fell back on her pillows exhausted by her emotion, while in a low,crooning voice the name she loved to utter broke from her longing lipsagain, like a threnody:
"_Figlio dilettissimo!_"
The Lady Beata's heart was wrung with pity.
"Nay, nay, Carinissima," she said, stooping over the couch and speakingwith tender decision, "Hagios Johannes could not know what mothers feel!This holy love for thy little one shall bide ever with thee and growwith thy life. It is thy breath of Heaven! It shall nerve thee to do thework of thy child--to live for the people he would have ruled. Him thoushalt love forever--it is the will of the Madre Beatissima:--but afterthy child shall come his people."
A change passed over the strained, worn face of the young Queen, like afaint breath of comfort.
"Zia mia," she murmured, laying her thin white hand in the warm, restfulclasp: and so passed into the first quiet sleep that she had known fordays.
* * * * *
While the unhappy Queen was bravely struggling to recover her poise,many things were happening; for the death of the infant King had beenthe signal for further manifestations of discontent from a party ofCyprian nobles whose dread of the "Lion of the velvet paw" increased asthe need for some firm governing hand became more evident. They wouldhave liked to anger Venice to the point of withdrawing all protectionand leaving them to their own devices--yet they dared not attempt itopenly, appreciating the futility of any armed resistance thatunassisted Cypriotes might offer.
For the Turk was watching from his near point of vantage; and if he hadhitherto been content with sending his private ships to ravage andterrorize the towns along the coast, this might but be the prelude tomore ambitious projects. Naples was still eagerly awaiting somefavorable moment to lay hands upon the coveted island, and rumors ofwaning favor had been wafted from Alexandria, since Cyprus had allowedthe tribute due to the Sultan to fall in arrears.
Carlotta, upon hearing of the death of the little Janus III, had at oncerenewed her claim to the throne; some of the ancient nobles had declaredfor her, and it was felt, rather than known, that her partisans weresecretly gathering strength. There was evidently some hostile influenceat work in the innermost circle of the Court.
And now, when Cyprus was at extremity, Venice alone--alert, powerful,resourceful--could be relied upon for aid: her protection of the islandin the time of Rizzo's conspiracy, had given her the right to a voice inthe government--or so she claimed, and there were none to gainsay it.Her _Provveditori_ were armed with the plenary power that was notinvariably used to the advantage of Cyprus, yet the vigilant Signoriawere ever ready with fresh instructions--if the paw were of velvet, itwas no longer sheathed!
Letters of condolence were duly sent from the Serenissimo; so, also,came without delay the declaration that the Queen had inherited the fullrights vested in her son, and should reign alone; with the furtherannouncement, so simply stated that it might well seem beyondrefutation--_that Venice was heir to her beloved daughter, CaterinaVeneta_.
* * * * *
No wonder that the Cypriotes gnashed their teeth in their powerlessnessto dispute this insolent assertion, while their indignation effervescedin petty intrigues!
But Dama Ecciva's spirits had revived.
"It is more like the olden days," she said, well content; "for if thereis no splendor of court-life such as our good Janus loved, at leastthere is matter for gossip to brighten the mortal dulness of a court inmourning! The Ambassador hath returned from the Court of Alexandria, andhath made relation of his mission and declared the favor of the Sultan,which, to the surprise of some"--she paused and glanced about her tomake sure that all were listening--"hath been granted to Her Majesty theQueen Caterina--and _not_ to Queen Carlotta."
"There is no Queen Carlotta!" a chorus of indignant young voicesanswered her. "If the Lady of the Bernardini were here----"
"Aye--but she is not." Ecciva returned placidly: "The Madonna be praisedfor a moment's liberty to utter one's thought! She and the DamaMargherita who knoweth more surely to tie one's honest speech than eventhe great Lady of the Bernardini, are gone to the Sala Regia torepresent Her Majesty and receive the splendid gifts which HisExcellency the Ambassador hath brought from Alexandria. And this am Isent to tell you, by the Lady of the Bernardini--who is a gracioustyrant and would save a bit of pleasure for our childish souls out ofthe dulness of the days. And when we hear the champing of horses in thegreat court of the palace--but there is already a tumult below--flythen!"
She had dashed out under the arcades and was leaning between thecolumns, making her quick eager comments to the bevy of maidens who hadfollowed her, as the little train of slaves bearing the royal giftspassed through the court-yard of the palace.
"A regal mantle of cloth of gold, with its gleam of jewels for her lornMajesty--who will never again wear aught but trappings of woe, if shemight have her will--it is a waste of treasure!"
"For shame, Ecciva!"
"Nay; for we are only _we_--not the Dama Margherita; nor the Lady of theBernardini.--Will the mourning bring back the child?--One may weep one'slife away in vain."
"Thou hast no heart, Ecciva: how should we not grieve with her!"
"So it pleaseth one to grieve, I am well content. But the way of weepingis strange to me. Methinks it would be kinder to cheer her soul withsome revelry--or a race on that splendid Arab steed, stepping sodaintily, with its great dar
k eyes and quivering nostrils, where the redcolor comes! The Sultan himself hath chosen this beauty for HerMajesty--she who perchance will never mount him, scorning to do aughtthat would make the blood flow warmer through the veins;--going daily toSan Nicolo with her taper and knowing naught of pleasure in life;unless it verily pleaseth her to grieve! What availeth it to her thatshe is Queen!"
"What availeth it to her to win the love of the people as none hath everdone before!" Eloisa cried hotly, moved from her timidity by herindignation. "That wilt thou never know, Ecciva, who dost so belie thyheart with thy unkind speech. But verily"--she pursued, relenting--"thouart far gentler than thy speech--not untrue, as thou wouldst have usbelieve!"
"What is '_untrue_'?" Dama Ecciva asked, undisturbed. "How may one know?Shall one ask Carlotta?--Or Queen Caterina? Or--if he might but answerus now--the charming Janus?--My brain is too little to unravel themystery."