XXXVI
An Embassy from Venice was expected upon important affairs of State, andthere was an unusual radiance in the face of the Queen, for it had beenannounced that the Illustrissimo, the Signor Zorzi Cornaro, brother toCaterina, was chief of the Commission, and it was long since one of hervery own had been with her.
"_Zia mia_," she said eagerly to the elder Lady of the Bernardini. "Thouwilt see that no courtesy of reception shall be omitted--it is towelcome one of my very own!"
She dwelt on the phrase with a pathetic accent of delight, returning toit again as she discussed some details of the welcome that should beoffered to her brother, whom, for years she had not seen.
Never had an ambassador been received with higher honors in the Court ofNikosia, or with such glad faces by all the attendant circle--for wasnot His Excellency of the Queen's own household?--and it had been rareto see such a light of happiness in her beloved eyes.
And well did the Cornaro seem to carry the honors due to hishouse--being very noble in bearing, as befitted the brother of theQueen; and so eloquent in speech that already before the first day hadpassed, the scholarly men of the Court were exchanging glances ofadmiration at the skill with which he parried their compliments; whileCaterina, noting their courtesy and the deftness with which he had wonthem, grew more than ever radiant, with a certain look of restfulnessand of heart-satisfaction which, since the death of the child, those wholoved her had scarcely seen her wear.
But Aluisi Bernardini grew somewhat graver than his wont, as the banquetproceeded, while he watched his cousin, the newly-arrived Ambassador,less graciously, his lady thought, than he need have done on this firstevening when all were hastening to shower honors upon him.
"Whatever cometh," he said to his wife, as they rose at last from thebrilliant tables and passed out upon the terraces at the invitation ofthe Queen; "whatever cometh, leave her not alone with him, though sheshould urge thee; use thy sweet insistance--as thou knowest how--to keepothers about them for this first evening."
"What meanest thou, Aluisi?" she asked in alarm, and moving quicklyaside, as the gay company swept by, that he might explain himself."Surely she might wish to speak with him alone; she is more happy in hispresence than she hath been for years. Seest thou not?"
"Aye, my very dear one, I see it well. It is that I would hold this rarehappiness for her so long as may be; and there is that in the manner ofmy cousin, the Cornaro, which pleaseth me not. I would not have himunfold to her the matter of his Embassy, if it may be a littledeferred."
"It hath been told thee, already?"
"Not more than to thee. But in all the grace of him I see his head abovehis heart--a certain quality of his father, the 'Magnifico, MarcoCornaro'--as he was known in Venice. Yet one who standeth watching,somewhat apart, may note a hint of displeasure at the splendor of hiswelcome and the loyalty of the court for the Queen: and the ready witwith which he answereth concealeth under its sparkle a certainpersistent measuring of some purpose which he hath much at heart--as ifhe were studying meanwhile how best to compass his end."
She laid her hand entreatingly on his arm. "For once, my Aluisi, it maybe thou dost o'er-reach thyself. Is he not her brother?"
He smiled at her, unconvinced.
"I have watched so long," he said, "and the life of our Queen-Cousinhath been so sadly thwarted that it may well be my fear for her takethflame too lightly. But she hath set such store upon his coming, and withsuch gracious scheming for his pleasure, that if he leave her time shemay soften any hard intent. San Marco grant that I have misjudged him,for he is of our house."
"Thou hast much weight with her," the Dama Margherita answered very low."Stay near me, that we may guard her."
But scarcely had they reached the terraces where all the Court werescattered, than they found the Queen pleading with her brother.
"Not to-night, Zorzi mio! For this one night let us take the pleasure ofthy coming as a brother to my home. Thou must know our customs and ourpeople and let them offer thee glad welcome. I have music and songplanned for thee:--and our Cyprian gardens--with their delights!--Let usstroll awhile."
He made a gesture of dissent.
"The banquet hath been long enough," he said, "nor lacking for sweets.There is meat of stronger quality to digest. Not for feasting I came,but upon an embassy the matter of which we must discuss."
"And _now_?" she asked, still unwilling.
"Said I not 'now'?" he answered resolutely, advancing toward the archeswhich admitted to the palace.
But Bernardini stood in his way, arresting his quick pace.
"My cousin, thy 'now' must wait upon the Queen's good pleasure," hesaid, with due deference. Then, more lightly, "It is the way of ourCourt in Cyprus--which would do thee honor. Her Majesty hath orderedsome festive trifle of music, or other entertainment, which ourmusic-maidens, skilled upon the lute, would fain begin."
At a signal from the Lady Margherita, they came floating out upon theterrace: but the Cornaro turned frowning from them and signed with hishand that his cousin, the Bernardini, should let him pass.
At a glance from the Queen, Bernardini moved courteously aside, butCaterina did not follow: she waited for a moment before she spoke--as ifto weigh her speech.
"If it be for matter of the Embassy which may not be delayed," she said,"I will bid our Chamberlain advise our Council of the Realm, that we mayreceive it with all honor befitting the Court of Venice, so soon as theyshall be gathered in the Audience-Chamber. Though the hour be strange,it is of thy choosing; and thou art our dear guest--as, also, ourhonored Ambassador from the Republic."
The Cornaro stood for a moment as if uncertain what part to play; then,making light of it all, he dismissed his frown and with a whimsicallaugh and graceful deprecatory motions, he turned to his sister andoffered his hand to lead her in.
"Nay, nay, my sister; I spoke of no formal session of State to receivemy Embassy; rather of a friendly talk between us two, touching thematter upon which the Republic hath sent me hither--that we may betterunderstand each other before it be laid before the Council. With thyleave, my cousin."
He passed with a friendly nod and some jesting word, which theBernardini returned more gravely:
"Thou dost verily surround thyself with state, Caterina!" her brotherexclaimed in a tone of stern displeasure, when she had indicated achamber where they might be alone, and he had carefully assured himselfthat the quaint Eastern draperies concealed no guards--the while shewatched him in amazement.
"It is better for thee that there be no listeners," he said, as heplaced a seat before her and sat down, fixing her with his gaze.
"Hearken without speech until I have spoken." His tone was threatening.
She turned white and red, half starting up, but cowed by his manner,fell back into her seat again.
"Is this my brother," she asked, "or is it the Ambassador?"
"Nay; leave tragedy, Caterina; I am come to bring thee word of a greatopportunity."
"For my people?--For Cyprus?" she responded with instant interest.
He laughed, a curious, unmirthful laugh.
"Aye--for 'thy people'--'for Cyprus,' verily. Listen! Thou hast it inthy power, at this moment, to bestow a gift upon the Republic--thou whoart the Daughter of Venice--that shall make thee memorable throughoutthe ages."
She was taken unaware; yet suddenly the happenings of all the past yearsseemed to converge in her, as their central point, binding her hand andfoot so that she might not free herself: an icy bolt shot through her:"I--I fail to understand," she answered faintly, for there was somewhatin his look that interpreted the meaning she would fain have missed.
"Aye: it _is_ hard to understand--that thou, who art one of our CasaCornaro--a woman--upon whom Venice hath bestowed such fatherly andunceasing care--should have it in thy power so to reward the Republic,who might have seized the throne of Cyprus, without waiting for thygift! Yet, of her grace, the Serenissima Repubblica doth verily ask itof thee, as a favor--tho
u who art Daughter to Venice. Thou mayest wellfind it hard to understand!"
She rose, indignantly.
"Hath the Signoria of Venice broken faith with her ally of Cyprus? Isshe not content to wait for the sovereignty of this realm until mydeath--knowing that by my will Venice hath been created heir to thisthrone--that she should wish to deprive me now of that which hath cometo me through so great sorrow, by the will of my husband, the King?"
He watched her curiously, while the color came and went with hertumultuous emotions, and her troubled breathing; and he changed histone--being subtle.
"I said that the Signoria would have thanked thee for thy gift of therealm; and that the ages should have decreed thee great honor for thyqueenly giving: but it would have been more of their courtesy than ofthine. For thou dost verily hold too great a matter this little kingdomof Cyprus--forgetting the nets that have many times been spread forthee; and the disfavor of those Cyprian nobles who would have a man torule over them and not a woman--young and without power--unless Venicebe her ally and defender! Even now, thou mightest have been a slave inthe land of the Turk, were it not for thy faithful upholding by thegalleys of Venice, which came between thee and the devastators. Where isthe generous response of a woman who, without them, were nothing?--Ithought thee more noble!"
She was bewildered, and he had cut her to the quick.
"Nay, Zorzi: thou dost not comprehend. A Queen must first be faithful toher people."
"Aye--'to her people!'" he retorted scornfully. "And are thy people ofVenice, or of Cyprus?--that thou mayest be faithful neither to one norto the other! Wilt thou show thy faith to Cyprus by turning thine onlyhelpers and defenders from thee, that thine enemies of the coasts mayhave free entrance to thine unprotected harbors, while the galleys ofVenice no longer waste upon thine ingratitude their unrequited care?"
"It is not true!" she cried; "they would not thus desert me."
"It is like a woman to build a belief without foundation," he answeredher--calmly, as one who makes a study at his ease.
"And this is verily thy mission from Venice--_and to me?_"
"I have spoken," he said, "but the time is short: thou mayest not delayto reply--Venice hath so decreed."
"My people love me," she pleaded, with a gasp. "I have only them to livefor!"
"Thou hast only them, if thou wilt perforce give up thine own," heanswered readily; "it is of thine own choice."
"What meanest thou?" she questioned, grasping his arm in terror:"Zorzi!"
He shook off her touch and answered her unmoved. "The choice will bethine, between thy people of Cyprus--who love thee, thou sayest--and thypeople of Venice--we of the Casa Cornaro and the Signoria, whom thouwilt offend and who have spent themselves upon thee. _They will leavethee to thine own devices, withdrawing every galley from thy Cypriancoasts._"
She gave a low moan, pressing her trembling hands to her brow, as ifbrain-weary from perplexity; then she turned to her brother again withthe exclamation:
"How shouldst thou so utterly desert me, Zorzi--_thou_, and my peoplewhom I love!"
"The mercy of the Republic is at an end," he assured heruncompromisingly, "and for the Casa Cornaro--thou dost mistake, whichseemeth easy for thee; it is rather thou who wilt disgrace me--thybrother, with his honorable pride in his house and his most noblecountry. For him and his children there will no longer be honors, norany favor of the Senate: upon thy brother, who doth so faithfullycounsel thee and from his heart, will fall the enmity of the Republicwho hath _forbidden him to fail_ in his mission. And what is left for apatrician who hath suffered exile and confiscation, but death and theextinction of his house? This will be thy doing."
She sprang up, attempting to reach a silken cord that swung upon thewall near her; but Cornaro raised his hand above her and lightly tossedit aside.
"No one shall come between us until I have thy promise: it lieth betweenme and thee."
"I need some one to help me," she implored; "and Aluisi is of our CasaCornaro,--he would understand."
"Two are enough," he said,--"nay, too much; for where the matter isurgent, one sufficeth."
She sat on mutely, wrestling with her problem.
From the time that she had first known of her royal destiny, problems ofrights of governments had never been put before her in unpartisan,clear-cut lines of white and black--as right and wrong: her judgment hadbeen intentionally befogged by those who should have been her teachers,until she found herself Queen by coronation and inheritance, consecratedin her right by the awful seal of the great High-Priest Death--beforewhose inviolable silence questions cease, and the scroll of the closedlife is no longer searched, save with eyes that blur the lines throughoverflowing mercy.
It had been easy for Venice to retain her ascendency over Caterina byintensifying her dependence, by fostering the distinctively feminine andpredominant side of her nature--by insisting upon abnormal claims to herduty, her obedience, her love, her gratitude.
When the eyes of the Queen had finally been opened to see the danger ofthese claims of Venice, it was already too late, for the freedom of herrealm had been inextricably tangled in the toils of Venice. Since thenshe had struggled with all her soul to govern her recalcitrant people bythe only power that she believed in or possessed--the power of love. Butit was love with little knowledge of the problems of nations or themeasures needful to cope with the disaffected nobles who were numerousenough to create an influence and who cared rather for their ownpleasure, than for any duty that they owed to enhance the unity or moralsplendor of their land.
"My Husband left me Queen," she said at last, raising her troubled eyesto his. "It was by his Will that I rule. Have I the right to yield thispower?"
"POWER!"
She recoiled from the irony of the tone.
"They are my people--they love me," she persisted, "and thou canst notknow how the care for them doth fill my life. Have I the right to givethem to any other?"
He laughed again. "Thou hast a veritable talent for creating problemswherewith to vex thyself, my sister, conscience-tossed! Hath one a rightto give that which he can no longer hold? Art thou the first who couldnot rule, to _abdicate_ in favor of a stronger sceptre?"
"We must ask these questions," she said struggling to be firm, "for dutyis not easy to find."
"Nor fortune," he answered coldly. "And one must be wise indeed to knowwhen 'one may grasp it by the hair'--as thou hast the chance with thismost gracious proffer of the Signoria before thee to reject."
She turned her head away that he might not read her thoughts, while shedwelt upon the full meaning of the cruel word he had spoken soeasily--_to abdicate_: it meant the disgrace of rulers, theacknowledgment of supreme weakness--unless to the greater power belongedthe supreme right.
Was this supreme Right vested with Venice, that she might bow withoutquestion? The word smote upon her like a touch of ice and her heartquailed.
Meanwhile Cornaro was watching, urging her decision with furtherarguments. The Signoria would provide for her; she should retain hertitle; she should still be styled '_Caterina, Regina_;' she should livein royal state.--But--_if she did not yield_--our Lord himself in heavenwould be displeased with her, hating no sin so much for any Christian asbase ingratitude;--with much more, to which she made no answer.
And thus the night wore on.
At last she rose, weary and heart-broken.
"My brother," she said in trembling tones, "none of thine arguments moveme: yet thou knowest I should grieve if thou, because of me, shouldstsuffer exile and disgrace, or thy children be held from any honor theymight win. But even for this I could not yield. Thy happiness and minemust be as naught in this great crisis, against the welfare of mypeople. Them only I must consider."
A torrent of imprecation rose to his lips, but he left it unuttered. Foras he turned his angry glance upon her and saw her face pallid anddistraught by the anguish of her struggle, with the strange gleam ofunearthly strength in her sorrowing eyes--it would have seeme
d likecursing a spirit. He crossed himself unconsciously, drawing a littleapart from her, and waited impatiently.
There was a motion of her lips, as if she had more to say: but herstrength was spent, so that her voice would not come with her firsteffort. Cornaro was conscious as he watched her of his fear lest itshould fail her utterly before she found her speech. He knew what he hadto expect if he did not succeed in his mission, and for him the momentwas crucial; others, for a far less bitter thwarting of the will of theSignoria, had suffered death--which had been hinted to him. He had meantto offer this as his supreme argument when all others had failed tocoerce her: but instinctively he held it back, fearing to anger her tothe point of stubborn refusal, for there was some unexpected power ofresistance within the soul of this slight woman.
Just as he was beginning to assure himself that, at all costs he mustuse further persuasion, her voice came--far away and colorless:
"And if I yield----?"
He went nearer, almost abject in the joy of this sudden reaction,promising her with glowing visions, state, glory, luxury, honor, favorof the Senate, ease, everything that his vivid imagination could seizeupon to tempt the fancy of a woman; but she waved her hand impatientlyto arrest his quick flow of words.
"Not for myself--but for my people--what for them?"
"Everything!" he answered undaunted; "security, prosperity; they shallbe ruled as Venice rules her provinces--ever more wisely than the peoplerule themselves. Thou knowest that, because of this, foreign States havecome to plead that Venice would accept their submission."
She knew that this was true; but her heart was like lead within her asshe raised her impotent clasped hands with a sudden, sharp cry of pain."My God! my God! I am not faithless to my vow--Thou knowest. I mustchoose their welfare, though my heart should break!"
* * * * *
As the Cornaro gave his hand to lead her to her chamber in the light ofthe early dawn, she turned to him pitifully imploring his comprehensionof her motive: "The Holy Mother knoweth that I am not faithless to mypeople--since with the favor of the Republic turned from me, I mightneither serve nor guard them.--My lot is bitter!"
But the day had dawned for him, if not for her. "Nay; trust me, sweetSister and Queen, thou hast chosen wisely," he answered with easygallantry, as he kissed her hand and would have left her where the LadyMargherita stood waiting with troubled eyes and heightened color toreceive her--scarcely condescending to notice the Cornaro's homage orhis gay, parting words--"your fair Queen hath done this night an actthat shall send her name down through coming ages, wreathed with glory."
For words came easily to him, and he had been too well content with hisown triumph and escape to weigh the effect of its cost upon Caterina.But now, after the mockery of his conventional salutation--which noneknew better than he to make an expression of profound deference--as heturned his bright gaze upon her, the strained pallor of her face withits deep lines of suffering smote upon him, and he addressed DamaMargherita again with some assumption of concern for his sister'swelfare.
"I fear she is overwearied; but the long discussion upon business of theSenate hath been needful. Yet now there is only rest before her, and Imay leave her, in confidence, in your gracious care."
But the Lady Margherita had turned impatiently from him to busy herselfwith the Queen before he had finished his speech; then she flashed him aglance which he found it hard to meet.
"We who love her need not your counsel, my Lord, to strive to undo your'doing of this night. These are the apartments of Her Majesty. We needto be alone."