XV
It was a moonless night in June, with lowering clouds and a threat of distant thunder echoing from the far mountains.
A crowd was gathering, low-voiced and eager, in the Piazza San Nicol: a crowd chiefly of the people, and the faces and costumes of many races came out grotesquely under the spasmodic glare of the torches which flared about the standard of Cyprus, in the centre of the square--the standard was tied with mourning and wreathed with cypress. There were many women--here and there a peasant with a child slumbering in her arms, or clinging sleepily to the tawny silk scarf woven under her own mulberry trees. Here and there, with the fitful motion of the wind, the light touched the fair hair of a chance peasant from the province of _La Kythrea_ into gleams of gold that a Venetian patrician might envy, or brought into sudden relief the smothered pa.s.sion of some beautiful, dark Greek face. But the women were chiefly of the lower Cypriote peasant-type, heavy-featured and unemotional. There was a sprinkling of monkish cowls and of the red fez from the Turkish village of Afdimou which lay in seeming friendliness of relation close to the village of Ormodos, whose population was wholly Greek.
In front of the long facade of the palace of Famagosta a cordon of soldiers stood motionless, while before them the mounted guard paced slowly to and fro; and across the Piazza, with that impatient, surging crowd between, was faintly heard the steady footfall of the sentinels, measuring and remeasuring with unemotional precision their narrow beat before the entrance to the world-famed fortress of Famagosta.
A group of n.o.bles in eager, low-voiced converse crossed the square, pressed through the cordon of soldiers and gave the pa.s.sword and the great door was opened to admit them and closed again.
Two burghers picked out a face among them, as the torches of their escorts flared.
"That was Marin Rizzo, Counsellor to the Queen; a man of power--unscrupulous."
"And more a friend--I have heard it whispered in Nikosia--to Naples than to Cyprus."
"Hast evidence for thy speech?" the other questioned eagerly in a lower tone.
"It is for that we must watch; the time is threatening."
"But Messer Andrea Cornaro was with him: he will know how to guard the interests of the Queen, having been so great a favorite with our Ja.n.u.s, and one for management, despite his courtly ways! Without our Messer Andrea, his niece had never been our Queen."
"Nay--nor if His Holiness had had his will. I had the tale from a source to trust, though the story was kept hushed. It would take one like our Ja.n.u.s, with his royal ways, to scorn the flattering offers of His Holiness! There were also threats!"
"Nay; threats would never move him, except to see the comedy thereof and make his mood the pleasanter! But I had not dreamed him saint enough for the Holy Father to sue to him for an alliance."
"Ah, friend, the ways of those above us be strange! But it was for this, I take it, that His Holiness--who hath a temper most uncommon earthly--sent none to represent him at the Coronation of the King."
The other shrugged his shoulders. "It lacked for naught in splendor; it was a day for Cyprus and for Nikosia."
"_Vanitas Vanitatum_," droned a friar of the Latin Church who had been standing near enough to catch echoes of their speech.
Both men glanced towards him and instinctively moved away.
"Aye; little it matters now--coronation honors or splendors for him! But he had a way with him!"
"And he was one for daring!"
They crossed themselves and lapsed into silence, as their eyes sought the banners drooping, shrouded, before the palace-gates, near the statue of their dead King--a very Apollo for beauty--the pedestal heaped high with withered tokens of loyalty and mourning.
But the ma.s.s of the waiting crowd were silent, scarcely exchanging a whispered confidence;--so still that the long, low boom of the surf upon the sh.o.r.e reached them distinctly, like a responsive heart-throb. They could hear the storm-waves outside the port dashing wildly against the rock-bound coast, with fierce suggestions of strife. But they knew that within their sheltered harbor their waiting galleys rode at anchor, ready to sail at a moment"s notice--for Venice, for Rome, for Egypt--though the flags they bore were still at half-mast, with their King but a month dead.
There was a sense of suppressed excitement in the hush of the throng; almost, one might have said, an atmosphere of prayer. For the great bell of San Nicol--the bell with that wonderful voice of melody--was ringing softly, as for vespers; continuously, as if the people had not answered to the call. Yet many a low-voiced "Ave" responded to the chime as now and again some toil-worn hand lifted the rosary that hung from a girdle, or clasped a rude cross closer.
Restless under the chiming, some simple mother who had fought for her place in the crowd before the palace, deep in her heart besought the blessed Madonna to forgive her because she would not yield it to kneel at the altar in the Duomo; while leaning over the little one slumbering on her breast, she kissed it with a meaning holy as prayer, and did not dream that the angels were watching.
The only steady light in all the square was the soft gleam, as of moonlight, streaming through the windows of the Duomo out into the mist, and here and there among the crowd some face turned towards it and was heartened.
For back of the splendid marble columns of the peristyle, when the light from some torch flashed suddenly upon their polished surfaces, the long lines of palace-windows lay dark; and it was growing late.
"They say that the holy sisters keep vigil this night in the Convent of the Blessed Santa Croce," murmured a woman"s voice.
"Aye," another answered her reverently, "for the love of Santa Elena and the Holy Relic, they will bless our beautiful Lady!"
The theme unsealed their peasant tongues, for this relic brought from the East by the Mother of Constantine, was the glory of Cyprus, and their speech flowed more freely.
"The most Reverend our Archbishop should send for that Santa Croce in procession, to bring it hither--for truly it can do anything!" another woman cried eagerly. She crossed herself and bowed devoutly as she spoke. "For all the world knoweth that once, when it had been lost and the good pater would prove if he had really found it, he held it in the heart of the fire until it glowed like the very flame itself. But when he drew it forth, it was burned not at all--_Santissima Vergine!_--but wood as before--being too holy to burn. A miracle! And then----"
"I also know the miracle about Queen Alixe," another woman interposed, eager to show her knowledge of the marvel of the Relic, "for my sister dwelleth by the gate of the Convent of the Troodos, and she hath much learning of the most blessed Relic;--how that Queen Alixe laid the bit on her tongue--she who could never speak fairly--more like a blockhead of a stammering peasant than a Royal lady--may Heaven forgive me! And how for ever after, her speech flowed freely, so that all might understand her. It must be good to be in Cyprus."
"Holy Mother! but it should be lonely in the great palace," a young peasant-mother confided to her nearest neighbor, as she shifted the baby to her other arm and arranged her wrappings tenderly, with hands that looked too rough for such loving ministration. She was thinking of her Gioan who would be waiting for her with a gruff greeting when she returned, but who was good to her, if he often scolded when the porridge was burned. But men were that way about women"s work, and never knew that an angel would forget when the baby cried. "_But_ she was growing heavy, blessed be the Madonna! Why wasn"t there a light?--It would be good if one might sleep!"
A mounted messenger came out from the fort and dashed across the square; the crowd holding breath, parting silently before him, but surging tumultuously back, to wait--though they were very weary and the shifting clouds were dropping rain. But there were yet no lights in the palace windows.
It was growing darker and the wind was rising; a quick flurry of drops extinguished some of the torches, and in the greater gloom the voice of the wind wailed like an evil omen. But still the women would not go--waiting for that sign of _the light in the palace windows_.
Only they pressed closer to each other and crossed themselves in terror, with smothered e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns and adjurations, shuddering from the superst.i.tions that enthralled their simple natures; for at this season, in Cyprus rain was most unwonted, surely a sign of Heaven"s displeasure!
Still they waited in the darkness of the night, with shivering hearts, with the wind growling like angry fiends out beyond the harbor and down from the environing hills--upheld to this costly tribute of devotion by the dumb, dog-like loyalty which their beautiful young Queen had roused within them, by a smile on her wedding-day and the sorrow that had quenched it.
"It is good, _va_, to see the light in the Duomo! There is many a good candle burning for her at the shrine of Our Lady of Mercy, this night."
"An" there were none for ourselves, we should find one for her!"
"Not a woman of our _casal_ but held a candle in her hand as we came in at the gate of the city; for the silkworms have given us silk and enough to spin this year; and if they had not, we would not grudge it to her.
For she hath a smile like an angel. May our Holy Mother bless her for them both."
"And beautiful--beautiful so that it warms the heart! Dost thou remember the day when she came out of the Duomo, beautiful as the Madonna herself--may our Blessed Lady in Heaven forgive me!--with a necklace and a crown flashing fire, that our Holy Mother of Jesus might wear on the Feast of the Annunciation?--and the smile on her face?--and the King beside her----? Ah, but it was a wedding--Holy Saints!--and they ought to be happy--the great ones!"
"Hush then!--But surely "tis a sin that they left the mourning upon the banner to-night, one should have more respect! If I could get into the Duomo for a drop of Holy water--Sancta Maria!"
But the crowd had swelled to hopeless density, and both women threw out their hands with the magical gesture that never failed to exorcise the evil spirits brought near by such an omen. Then they touched each other rea.s.suringly, and crossed themselves and were silent again.
For a beautiful Greek, not of their own cla.s.s, stepped out from her group of attendants, and knelt on the pavement, stretching out her hands towards the dark palace with a prayer--they could hear her murmuring,--"For _her_ sake--for the sake of the innocent one who hath been wronged--Holy Mother of Angels, grant us one of her blood to rule this land!"
Her heavy veil of mourning fell aside as she hastily rose and joined her attendants, disappearing in the crowd.
"Madama da Patras! Could it be Madama da Patras, mother to the King, kneeling on the pavement in the night!"
"Her heart is broken with grief, and she thought not to be seen, poor lady."
Two n.o.bles were wending their way with difficulty across the Piazza, they lingered a moment, arrested by the words of the prayer.
"This night may make the difference between anarchy and peace for Cyprus," one of them said to his companion, as they resumed their struggle.
"Aye--Cyprus for the Cypriotes,--instead of Genoa, or Venice, or Naples."